Family Photos- Fall 2013

Apparently, since I can't do anything legitimate to keep my children small, I've decided to quell my urge to stop time by taking a rather unnecessary and grossly inappropriate number of photos of them. 

Enter our Fall 2013 photo shoot with my wonderful long-time friend, Michelle from Michelle C Photography. 

Michelle and I went to high school and college together and were even in the same sorority. She is an absolute gem and we loved the time we got to spend with her in this beautiful Florida park over Thanksgiving.

No, I cannot believe how big my crazies look in these pictures. But I love them. I especially love that she so accurately captured who they are right now. 

This smirk is so Davis. Always giving us a little attitude but in the most adorable way. 

And I cannot even take Madelyn in those boots.

This is what they are like 1/3 of the time- loving and sweet. But the rest of the time they're more like this- perfecting the fine art of snuggle wrestling...

I'm so grateful for this little reminder of where we are right now and I cannot wait to fill our house with these beautiful images!

And then they grow...

Life has been so good and so sweet lately.

I am just loving the kid's ages- they are becoming best buds and it is the most precious thing to watch. I love to spy on them and catch little bits of their conversations. Sometimes I hear Madelyn tell Davis something like "Davis, we need to be kind to each other" and I really feel like I'm killing this parenting thing. The next sentence she yells something like "holy smokes!" and I humbly step down off my pedestal.

I don't know if I'm just more conscious of it now because I see how fast they're growing  or if I just have more time to reflect as they become increasingly independent, but it is so so bittersweet this parenting thing.

I absolutely crave the smell of their sweet baby heads. I want to rock them to sleep. I want to kiss baby rolls and put them in footed jammies forever.

I want to rub their tiny toes while I feed them and then hold them curled up on my chest, marveling over their perfect little features.

They are definitely not my babies anymore. They are rowdy, hilarious, loving, little crazies. And as quickly as my heart starts to break at the loss of what was, it swells with the goodness of where we are now.

There are so many wonderful things about this season, so many reasons I love where we are and the adventure of our every day together.

Life truly is so so good.

My Thoughts on Children's Birthday Parties

I think it's time we address how completely out of control we've all gotten with children's birthday parties.

At what point did ordering pizza, having cake and celebrating with your immediate family become totally unacceptable? Here we are, us moms, complaining that we have too much on our plates, and all we do is continue to add to them.

I did not grow up having a big to do on my birthday, and thus, I am perfectly content with a very small acknowledgement and perhaps a solo trip to Target.

My husband on the other hand, comes from the land of big birthdays. His birthday is his personal equivalent to Hanukkah and requires a minimum of seven day of celebratory activities and fan fare.

For our kids, we've had moderately-sized, casual, and fairly easy birthday parties. Family and closest friends, some coordinated decor and fun food, and always, always cupcakes.

But the more I put it all together, the more it stresses me out. I want our kids to feel special on that day, but they don't need a big party feel that. I want them to know that there are a lot of people who love and pray for them, and that their birthday is as much for us to celebrate as parents as it is for them as growing kids. They certainly do not need a buffet of fancy food made from scratch and 50 presents to open. That is so not the message I want to send.

Yesterday, we celebrated our little miracle boy turning two. We had a small group of people to the house, ate hot dogs and fruit skewers, and the only thing I did to decorate was put out some pretty fall flowers and nice ribbon on the utensils and vases. When anyone asked them what to bring him I said nothing, and I meant it. I wanted everyone to celebrate him, and what a blessing he is to us. And honestly, it was the best birthday yet.

We spent a whopping $30 on decor, we ate easy, simple food, and we spent the afternoon talking and visiting and it was wonderful.

And you know what I was doing two hours before everyone arrived?

This.

I wasn't prepping food, or hand stamping thank you cards. I was smelling his sweet breath and rubbing his soft little head while he napped. It was my favorite memory of the day. I was relaxed, and had I been a manic party planning mess, I would have missed it.

I think going forward, and as they get older, I'd like to let our kids pick an activity to do as a family on their big day, and get back to the special family meal and small celebration. In my quest to simplify every other area of my life, this seems like an easy next step.

Here are a few pictures from our day. This first one makes me melt into a puddle on the floor.

Clearly, he enjoyed himself :)

He had his eye on cupcakes. I don't blame him. 

The lazy mom's decor. Take that, Pinterest. 

No Davis, you may not play football. But please pick any other non-combative sport you'd wish. Preferably, golf of swimming. Love, your mommy.

Moms- let's give ourselves a break here. If you want to do the big party, if you enjoy it, then by all means please take joy in that. But if you find it stressful, borderline excessive, and if you spend the day running around like a crazy person, take a step back. I've seen the other side, and it is nice :)

Defeat and Margin

Girls, I am having a week. 

And it's Tuesday.

TUESDAY.

The good news is, I'm not a stress eater. The bad news is, I am a stress drinker, and three nights in the past week my dinner consisted of wine and chocolate chips. 

So, there's that. 

I am just feeling plain overwhelmed. A feeling not foreign to working moms, or probably any moms for that matter. But honestly, I just feel like working moms get the worst of it. 

The constant juggling. Constant feeling like you aren't doing enough at home/at work/with your kids/for yourself/for your husband/etc etc etc. Constant cleaning yet still never feeling like the house is clean. Never having enough time for anything (or so it feels). It feels like trying to squeeze 48 hours of activity into a 24 hour day every.single.day. 

And this week, I broke. I hit my threshold. It's mostly my own fault, and I realize that, so I've decided to make some changes. I'm simplifying. My kids are going to be this little for like six seconds in the scheme of our life, and I absolutely refuse to be stressed and stretched anymore. 

I'm creating some margin and taking some of the pressure off of myself. As a self-professed control freak, type A perfectionist, you can understand this does not come easy. But when mama's happy, everyone's happy, right? RIGHT?!

• For starters, I'm giving myself a break from this self-imposed pressure to cook fresh, healthy, balanced, instagram-worth meals every single night of the week. I'm sick of rushing to get dinner ready, doing dishes every night, all of it. So, the two days of the week I'm in the office I'm going to pick up a ready-to-heat meal from Whole Foods on my way home. I'm also going to commit to one crock pot meal a week. The rest, I'll deal with as it comes. And ya'll, I'm buying paper plates (as the hippie in me shudders with disdain). 

• And two, I'm re-instating the monthly house cleaner and strongly considering asking them to come every two weeks. I put them on "hold" this month knowing we had some extra expenses in the hopper (don't we always) but spent a good part of our home time this past weekend cleaning, which meant I wasn't playing with the kids, reading to them, practicing soccer with Madelyn, hanging with Matt, you get the picture. I'm over it. 

If the worst thing my kids eat all week is an organic rotisserie chicken or Applegate nuggets, and I have to shell out more money so I can have more time with them, so be it. I can't be freakin Ina Garten in the 20 minutes I have to get dinner ready each day. I just can't. 

Everything comes with a price, or a compromise rather. I love to work, but it does affect my ability to be the "homemaker" and mother I see myself as. It just does. I love my job and I think the benefits to our family outweigh the negative aspects, but I also have to admit I can't do it all. None of us can. 

And with that, I'm off to pour myself another glass of stress wine. Cheers, ladies. Here's to a new day and a fresh perspective. And maybe even a little more time and a little less crazy. 

The Sweet Spot

I feel like we've ventured in to the sweet spot of parenting littles. It's this happy place where the kids are getting a little bit more independent and their personalities are just exploding, and while our life is loud and chaotic (did I mention loud?) our job as parents is feeling a little bit easier. In some ways I feel like we've hit our stride.

We've done the sleep training. We know how we want to discipline. We are the proud parents of two very good, very healthy eaters. And there probably hasn't been a single time in our lives when we've laughed so much on a daily basis. Those two crazies bring an unthinkable amount of joy to our life.

Yes, there are tantrums. There are constantly messes to clean. My kitchen floor is literally always dirty. Someone always needs me and I've come to think that it's Davis' personal mission to see how many times he can call "mama!" in any given day. The laundry and dishes never end. Ever. But I know this time is  precious. And I know it's limited.

With every bit of independence that they gain my heart breaks just a little. In the span of your life, the time you get to spend with little, squishy, loving babies is so so short. Now on the other side, while our life may be a little bit easier, I grieve for that time with them and I'll never get it back. 

Matt always jokes that I panic when I have to be away from them, and that's partly true. But it's because I see them changing so quickly and I know my time with "babies" is coming to an end. Let's be honest, it's probably been over for a while now.

I will appreciate this stage while it lasts, knowing that every stage is a phase that eventually passes. But it's bittersweet to say the least. 

Little Miss turns four

Last weekend we celebrated the fourth birthday of our sweet baby girl.

 And let me tell you folks, four feels old. 

It is uncharted territory- parenting this little person with strong opinions that she can articulate

 in long detailed sentences.

Beware- sassy girls on the loose

One minute you're stressed over sleep training your infant and the next your baby can get themselves fully ready for bed and put them self to sleep without much more than a hug from you. 

It's bittersweet to say the least.

Oh, but how she just light us up with joy everyday. 

She loves pink. She wants to be a Disney Princess. She insists on wearing dresses as often as possible and will scowl should I suggest she don anything other than a glittery shoe on her foot. 

A princess pinata. Naturally.

She loves to take care of her baby dolls and knows just how to turn her daddy to mush. She likes to tell him he's handsome and say the prayer every night before dinner. And she's just dying for her little brother to get a little bit bigger so he can stop pestering her, though I tell her that's not likely to happen soon. 

If what they say is true- that God lets us pick our parents- consider me forever indebted to her. 

Special thanks to Heidi and Beverly from Sweet Birdie's Nest for the insanely cute invites and door decor. 

Five things I'm doing for ME

Let's be honest.

We all know I'm not one for only showing the "pretty" side of parenthood. Being a parent to two kids is extremely demanding and the incredible rewards of joy, love, and sheer delight are often matched with exhaustion, emotional duress, and goldfish crumbs.

Like, everywhere.

There is nothing I love more than mothering Madelyn and Davis. But I have let it take a toll on loving myself and I'm hoping to put a stop to that in 2013.

So I started doing five things that don't benefit anyone but me. They are selfish, time consuming, and for the most part not at all productive. But I think they are important, so here they are.

1. Exercising. I'm setting aside 20 minutes at least three times a week to exercise. I have Matt watch Davis and Madelyn comes and does the workout with me. Usually she just twirls around in her tutu but sometimes she tries the moves. It's fun, and I think it's important for her to learn that we need to take care of our bodies so that we can be "strong and healthy" as she likes to say.

2. My mom's group. For years I have wanted to join some sort of mom's community but as a working mother there just are not many opportunities available that don't take place during the daytime. Our church has blessed me beyond measure with a mom's bible study every other Wednesday night. It's an amazing group of sweet, smart, and hilarious Christian moms and joining has been invaluable for me, especially since most of my best friends don't just live down the road.

3. Personal care. This will sound ridiculous (because it is), but sometimes I don't even take the time to put on lipstick because I'm running around like a crazy person (exhibit a: the above picture). And really, it's amazing what doing this one things will do for your confidence. Aside from that I'm making time to do my nails, lighting a candle at night while I do my face/teeth routine to make it a bit more enjoyable, and instituting a once-weekly bubble bath night. Oh, and I got a haircut. I'm calling it my chic mom do.

4. Making the spaces where I spend the most time pretty. I used some birthday money I received to buy some pretties for our kitchen that I had been lusting after for way too long and they make me happy every time I see them. Money well spent.

5. I schedule our cleaning people on the same day I get paid. It's a bit Pavlovian but it develops a very conscious work/reward mental connection.

Being a mom is hard

Being a mom is hard

Like, really hard. The people that tell you that, your mother who often reminded you of that- they weren't lying. It's actually really fascinating how you can feel such emotion for someone that isn't you.

And it's hard for reasons you don't expect. It's not just the sleep deprivation, or the semi-loss of a social life, or the inability to leave the house in something that's not dirty or wrinkled. It's hard because of the worry. Because when you have to let go a little you can actually feel your heart break. But really because of the worry.

Yesterday I took my sweet little miracle boy to daycare and it has not gone as I would have hoped. He's scared, he doesn't know anyone or understand why his mommy is leaving him in this loud, scary place. He cries a lot. He won't really sleep and barely eats—and nothing is more uncharacteristic of Davis than not eating. When I picked him up yesterday his face was red and swollen and I could not squeeze him fast enough.

And today when I left he cried and cried as a stranger tried to calm him down and his mommy walked out the door. And I came home and cried and cried because my poor baby thinks I abandoned him and he doesn't feel safe, or comforted, or understand at all why he is at this weird place.

I know it sounds ridiculous. People take their children to daycare every day, he just needs to get used to it, he is safe and he will be fine. I get it.

But he's not just another baby. He's my baby. And when he is upset, I am upset. And I feel like I've failed him. And that is why being a mom is hard.

You have to make hard decisions, and sacrifices, and it isn't always fair. In the midst of that, you have to feel emotions that you can't comprehend or even control most of the time. You doubt yourself constantly and there is nothing you can do about it. And some days it's just hard, and there's nothing you can do about that either.

That really happened

So, I guess I'm a cliché now. I'm the mom who took care of everyone but herself and embarrassingly ended up in the ER this past Saturday for dehydration. I like to think of it more as exhaustion like the celebs say, but you can call it what you like.
Remember the neck spasm? And Madelyn's four day viral bonanza of excretions? Well, I got that virus. I'll spare you the details, but I never actually got sick, I was just so nauseous I laid in the fetal position for a few days and barely ate or drank anything. Like, anything. I had three crackers and a Gatorade all day Friday. I was busy taking care of the kids, I felt like crap, and the last thing I wanted to do was eat or drink.
Cut to Saturday night when I got really weak and tired and then started shaking uncontrollably for about an hour. My sweet husband that I'm quite sure I scared to death took me to the hospital and luckily, they saw me right away since my heart rate was high. After a nice big bag of fluids, some anti-nausea meds, and potassium (mine was low) they sent me home. They also kindly confirmed that I am not, in fact, pregnant, which I informed them would have been a massive failure of the pharmaceutical industry.
It took five days in total, but Tuesday I felt Amazing. I had so much energy, I was thrilled to be working, I wasn't the least bit nauseous. And from now on I'm going to be that girl that walks around everywhere with her big bottle of Smartwater.
It has been a bit of a wake up call for me, for sure. I can't be a good mom to the kids if I don't make time for myself. It seems logical but it's easier said than done, though I can see now, absolutely necessary.
So, to close, I think we've learned a few valuable lessons: you may be a mom, and you may be insanely busy, but you are important and your kids will really miss you if you have to spend your days in bed sick and dehydrated. So eat and drink on a regular basis, please. Oh and also, I could never be anorexic. Like, ever.

I should know better

I've been that mom bragging about my perfect children who will eat anything (anything!) for quite some time now and this, this is what I get for all that bragging.

See the below email sent to the BFF yesterday:


note: "try" should ready "tray"

 My sweet little boy, the one for whom I made copious amounts of homemade baby food. The one who ate plain steamed zucchini and broccoli like there was no tomorrow. You know, the organic zucchini I bought from our local farmer's market from a real farmer, not that I was being smug about it.

Well, those days are gone. I'm sure it's a phase like everything else, and I suppose it serves me right. But come on, dude, help your mama out. My mom pride takes a serious hit every time you throw the veggies.

The Things I Wish I Knew

The things I wish I knew when I became a parent for the first time...

Everything is a phase. It doesn’t feel like it when you’re in it—when they won’t sleep, when they cry for hours, when they insist on only eating a certain color food. No, when you’re in it, you feel rationally convinced it is going to go on forever. But it won’t. It never does. Just ride it out.

Your body will go back to normal. It may take a while, but it will. You will not feel like a jiggly blob forever.

The window of time that you get to hold your baby- truly hold them and snuggle them- is so short. Do it whenever you want to and don’t feel guilty. By the time they turn one they’ll be so active they’ll be running away from you (ahem, Davis) and you’ll miss those days when they laid on your chest for hours.

You are doing a great job. Even when you have a bad day, and you have no patience, and you feel like you’re doing everything wrong- you’re doing a great job. All your kids need is love. If you love them, and they know that, you’re already doing better than you think.

Trust your intuition. Don’t ever doubt the God-given sense that mothers have- it’s there for a reason.

Don’t stress- your kids can feel it.

Kids do everything at a different pace. Everything. Do not panic because your child isn’t clapping, or holding their bottle, or waving at the exact second the other kids are. These things are trivial. And they all catch up to each other at some point.

You will never be the same. Ever.

You will understand why mothers cry at Hallmark commercials and feel so silly for all the times you rolled your eyes. Those moments on those commercials, they are important. When you walk into your child’s room and they light up to see you. When you take them to school for the first time. Sitting around the table eating dinner. Brushing your daughter’s hair. Every moment is important…treasure it, and never take even those seemingly mundane activities for granted. Those moments make up your life.

Giving

One of the most important things I think we can teach our children is the importance of giving. I want Madelyn and Davis to grow up knowing every day how lucky they are, and that it is their duty to help others who aren't as fortunate.

Of course, I know this isn't going to just "happen" without diligent and intentional teaching from us as parents. We've tried to explain to Madelyn what it means to donate as we're cleaning out her toys, but at three and a half she's just now starting to really get it. It's absolutely amazing to see that little light go off in her head.

I have felt really moved lately to help orphans. I don't know why, but for some reason God has put it on my heart to help children without a family. I don't feel like it's in our journey to adopt necessarily, I just want to do something to help others adopt, or at least provide for those poor children in some way. So as I was tucking Madelyn in the other night we said her prayers and I told her about how some children don't have enough to eat, or clothes to keep them warm when it's cold. She looked at me with the sweetest little face and said "mommy- we should give them some of ours."

I was a proud mama. I am a proud mama. She's listening. She's absorbing what we're saying. And she wants to help. It was a really awesome moment.

Sometimes you think your words go completely unnoticed. Half the time I say something she just wants to talk to me about her princess dolls and the pretty dress she wore that day. But I know she's listening. And our actions won't go unnoticed.

We are all so very lucky. I think we forget amidst the mass affluence of this country that we are all so very rich. The majority of people in this world don't have basic necessary comforts let alone 400 thread count sheets and a pantry full of food.

My kids will be spoiled, and that's ok. They will know to appreciate it, and as long as they grow up with generous hearts, I'll be happy.

A work in progress

Our family reached a major milestone yesterday. We attended church for the first time as a family of four. I was so excited to get the kids dressed up, pack the diaper bag, and fall into our new Sunday routine now that Davis had clearance to attend the church nursery--until we got there.

I was worried about how he would react- he’s never been left with someone he doesn’t know, let alone in a room he’s unfamiliar with. Turns out he was a total champ. And I was the one who cried like a baby.

Literally, I had to go to the bathroom and compose myself.

It’s funny- I swear I’m still carrying around emotions from the hospital almost one full year later. I can’t seem to let them go. Part of my tears were happy tears because leaving him means that his doctor thinks he’s healed. But leaving him brought back memories of where we’ve been, doubts that we’d ever live a “normal” life or that he would get to participate in these activities, and fear about what happens if he gets sick.

I realize some of this is highly irrational and I’m quite confident my husband thinks I am crazy. I don’t completely disagree with him.

I was talking to Kristin about it and I really feel like what we went through with Davis changed me as a person. I think about the hospital all the time and I cry about it more than I’d like to admit. The fear and the desperation that I felt those 28 days made a dent on my heart and my sense of security that I sincerely cannot seem to fill.

Even though I get to look at that beautiful, thriving child every single day.

Even though I see the x-rays and tests that show he’s ok.

Even though I truly believe in my heart that he is ok.

I can’t let it go.

I hope that changes over time. Maybe I’m just grieving the loss of the part of myself that could live free of doubt and fear. Or maybe I don’t really want to forget because it reminds me to be grateful for every moment, every single day.

Either way, I’m a work in progress. At least now I can relish the small victory of my sweet boy who gets to grow up knowing what it’s like to spend his Sundays at church. For now, that’s good enough for me.

Not the Perfect Mom

Sometimes, more often than not, the solution to my anxiety is merely just to simplify.

A few weeks ago I began the process of planning Davis’ first birthday party. I’m not sure why I call it a process when it is truly a JOY; I guess because it’s a process nonetheless.

As I was thinking through all of the details: time, guest list, food, drinks, theme, invitations, etc. I started to feel my anxiety rising and I couldn’t figure why planning such a happy and blessed event was actually causing me stress.

I had decided on a sailboat theme (boyish enough for the hubs and cute enough for me) and I was feeling all sorts of undue stress trying to figure out how to theme everything for the party. I call it PinDrome (aka Pinterest Syndrome). Suddenly my party was going to be a complete failure unless had monogrammed sailboat party favors, a nautically-themed menu, and perfectly coordinated outfits for the children.

This raised several questions:

1: Good enough for whom exactly?

And

2: What the heck was I doing theme-ing his party? I am not a theme-y person. I didn’t pick a theme for either child’s nursery, I’ve never chosen one for Madelyn’s parties, yet here I was trying to figure out how I was going to incorporate the obviously necessary sailing rope into my tablescape.

So I dropped the theme. And it’s incredible how my anxiety instantaneously vanished. Suddenly, all I had to do was buy some cute plates and napkins (doable), get food on the table (doable), and plan on enjoying the moment with my family (DOABLE).

I’m not a theme person and that’s ok. I can appreciate them from afar, but it’s too much for me. I need simple. I truly believe in every aspect of my life that less is more. And if it’s stressing me out, I probably shouldn’t be doing it.

So, we’re having a late afternoon barbecue with our closest friends and family. We’re going to eat with our hands on an old tablecloth and talk about the many ways in which my sweet boy has stolen our hearts. And I will spend the day focusing on what matters, the amazing family Matt and I have built, and will not give one thought to what everyone else is doing.

Form AND Function

I am a form over function girl. I don’t care how it works, or even if it works for that matter, as long as it looks good. This is (just one of the many reasons) why I won’t wear crocs- have you ever seen an uglier shoe in your life? I don’t care how comfortable they are. I’d rather wear my stilettos and be uncomfortable all day yet still have some dignity than wear plastic shoes that look like they were made out of tire rubber.
But sometimes, when the stars align, you find the perfect marriage between form and function. And let me tell you- I have found THE ONE.

Enter, the maxi skirt.

Maxi entered my life last week and we’ve been having a mad love affair ever since. Shauna posted about a skirt she found at TJ Maxx on Instagram and after seeing how cute and flattering it was I knew I had to find one for myself. Well, I found two. And I am obsessed.
Why I haven’t participated in this trend sooner I do not know. It could have made my life a lot easier.
All I have to do is toss a tank top over maxi and immediately I give the illusion that I am totally put together and stylish, yet I feel like I’m wearing pajamas. These are so mom-functional- I can move around freely and comfortably, no one sees my underwear when I bend down (which is often), and because I look so cute, I am a much happier mama.

See honey, we all benefit when mommy goes shopping.

My Life as a Mom

It is 1:30 p.m. and I just finished the cup of coffee I began at 6 a.m. this morning.

I had to fish my toothpaste out of my own urine because someone* thought it would be funny to throw it in the toilet with reckless abandon before I had flushed.
*I'm talking about you, infant

I just threw my duvet cover into the wash because said infant also had a major hand-in-poop incident this morning while on top of my bed.

And I just got back from running errands and found these on my feet.

At least I no longer have to worry about losing my mind… I can now safely assume it’s already gone.

Now and then

Matt took off yesterday to spend a glorious day at The Masters and I was spending my usual Monday at home with the bambinos. I laughed when he called to check in upon arrival, thinking about how our lives have changed in these past few years.

Had we been in the early years of our marriage I could have imagined how the call would have gone.

Matt: Hey honey, just wanted to let you know we're here. How has your morning been?

Me: Great. I drank my coffee while watching the today show. Did my nails and then made a delicious omelet for breakfast. Enjoy yourself and don't rush back, I'm having drinks with the girls after work.

Cut to the actual conversation we had yesterday.

Matt: Hey honey, just wanted to let you know we're here. How has your morning been?

Me: Well, it's been ok. Madelyn has already been in time out once for not listening and Davis woke up at 6 and has been really fussy. I think he's constipated. I gotta run- Madelyn needs help going potty and he's crying because he just rolled into the leg of the chair. Any idea what time you'll be home?

My how things have changed.

Things I'm happy to sacrifice

Everyone tells you that being a parent is the most selfless thing you'll ever do, but like everything else, you never really get it until it happens to you. Honestly, it's hard to even know what it means to be selfless until you are a parent. And I'd wager that what it means to you is vastly different pre and post children.

When we had Madelyn our life didn't really change. Sure we lost some sleep and the ability to travel without 19 suitcases and a monstrous SUV, but we still traveled. We could both easily take off for an afternoon to have some alone time because managing one kiddo is relatively easy...especially, you realize, once you have two.

With Davis things are very very different. Though he looks healthy, happy, and thriving, he is still a 13 week old baby with a heart condition. And this has taken the meaning of selfless sacrifice to a whole new level.

We have very little social life because our sweet boy isn't supposed to be around a lot of people, especially children who could potentially be sick. We've forgone holiday parties, playdates, and even church for his safety (and per doctor's orders). What this usually means is that Matt and Madelyn attend all of the fun things and me and little D stay home. This is actually ok with me-knowing that this is our last baby I want to soak up all of his sweetness as long as I can- and it certainly isn't fair that Madelyn suffer because of her brother's health obstacles.

We don't eat out. We used to love to go out for Mexican or hit up a burger joint on a Saturday night, now we stick to once-a-week Chick-Fil-A drive through that we can bring home. I can't just throw him in the car and run up to the grocery store or Target because those are the other venues the doctors would prefer he avoid. It's just too risky to have him in those environments, especially during this time of year.

Once we were sure of Davis' diagnosis we knew our life would truly never be the same. He can't attend daycare due to the dangers of illness so we've hired a nanny to stay home with him while I work. This is obviously an unplanned financial burden but one we're happy to take on, given that it means we are home with him and the alternative would be waiting for a heart transplant in the hospital. We've completely given up our peace of mind. We can't ever fully relax and assume he is "ok" because we just don't know.

His sweet sister can't even kiss her own brother for fear of what she might be carrying, so she sweetly kisses his toes and his head until we *hopefully* find out, some time down the road, that he's fully recovered.

I'm not saying these things to complain, in fact quite the opposite. It's amazing what you can give up without even a second thought for the sake of your children. Sure I'd love to take Davis out to eat or to a Christmas party where I can show him off to everyone we know--part of the joy of having children is being able to share them with people-but I know right now my selfish wants have to take a backseat to his well being and I am 100% ok with that. I thank God every day for my two little monkeys, and if it means I have to drink my wine at home with Matt instead of in a fancy restaurant, that is fine with me.

28 days in the hospital

I've wanted to write a full account of our month in the hospital for quite some time but haven't felt emotionally ready to relive each and every life-sucking detail all over again. But considering the general deterioration of my brain since leaving work and increasing inability to remember anything, I figure if I don't do it now it may never be done. So here goes.

Davis was due to be born September 19th at 39 weeks via scheduled c-section. The Friday prior I awoke with debilitating pain in my abdomen. Given the close proximity to my due date we raced to the hospital and spent the day running every possible test without any conclusive results. The pain escalated to where I couldn't sit or walk without crying, yet the doctors had no clue what was wrong so they decided to go ahead and get Davis out for fear of really, the unknown. We now know that Davis somehow contracted the enterovirus from me while in utero and my body was essentially rejecting him. My immune system had sent all of my antibodies to the abdomen to fight the infection, my sweet son. Once he came out the pain was completely gone but we still didn't understand why.




At birth he was born with a fever and further testing came back with a positive but unidentifiable blood culture and low white blood cell count. Nothing that appeared too serious, so we went home.

Two days later I felt like he was overly sleepy but wasn't concerned until around 7 p.m. when he spiked a fever of 101. Within literally four minutes we had packed our bags and were on our way to the ER.

Because of his age (6 days) and his fever the ER doctor insisted upon three tests- a blood draw, a urinalysis, and a spinal tap, to which I literally told him he was out of his mind. Long emotional story short, we did them all. And I sat in the hallway outside his door listening to him scream for what felt like years as I truly cried harder than I have ever cried in my entire life. How could you do a spinal tap on a 6 day old? MY 6 day old? It was truly horrifying.

Good thing we did though, because his spinal fluid showed what appeared to be meningitis. We boarded the ambulance to the in-town children's hospital and arrived there at appx. 3 a.m. to begin a new battery of tests. After a few days we came to the conclusion that he had bacterial meningitis. At the time this was the scariest possible thing I could imagine as it meant 14 days of extremely strong antibiotics that could potentially damage his hearing and 14 days in the hospital.

A week later additional tests came back informing us that he had enterovirus. We met with infectious disease specialists, doctor after doctor after doctor, and decided to continue on our current course of treatment for fear that if he also had bacterial meningitis, we didn't want it to go untreated.

Those first few days we had a difficult time regulating his temperature. One night I'd be wiping him down with cold rags as he burned up with a raging fever, the next his temp would plummet and we'd be putting warm compresses in his swaddle. He also had several IVs through which the drugs were administered and eventually a PIC line in his arm and then later two CVLs, surgically inserted IVs that went directly into large veins. Each increasingly scary and each presented their own individual challenges and fears. It turns out Davis has very visible but extremely small, weak veins, and drawing blood or inserting an IV is both difficult (nearly impossible) and painful. The last blood draw before we left they actually had to draw from a vein in his head. Night-mare.

A few days after the entervirus diagnosis a doctor noticed Davis breathing faster than normal and we were whisked off to ICU after an echocardiogram revealed that the virus was attacking his heart. His little heart was enlarged, one of the valves was leaking, and it wasn't pumping efficiently. We spent a few days in pediatric ICU during which he was given drugs to help his heart pump, human antibodies to help his heart heal, and at one point a blood transfusion because of anemia and low blood count. We had to monitor his urine output to make sure his kidneys were receiving enough blood to function and watch for any change in his behavior that may signal his brain wasn't receiving enough blood.

After a few days he began to show improvement and we moved down to the cardiac stepdown unit where we figured we'd finish out his antibiotics and go home. Except that the day we thought we'd be told we were going home soon, a follow up echo confirmed my worst fears- his heart was getting worse, not better.

For the second time we left for ICU, this time the cardiac ICU which was a completely different environment. I wasn't allowed to stay with him, or breastfeed (so I pumped), visitors were limited, and conversation turned from being cautiously optimisted to talk of a possible heart transplant if this course of meds didn't work. This was by far the low point in our journey. We felt absolutely hopeless, bewildered, and scared to death. I couldn't eat and I barely slept. There were days I did nothing but cry.

48 hours later we were back in the stepdown unit, waiting and waiting and waiting to see if this time his heart would be able to function on its own. And if you've been reading this for long, you know, it did :)

In fact, his heart performed so well it shocked all of the doctors. His last echocardiogram actually almost appeared normal, a possibility none of us had ever considered. And with that, we were released. Of course, not without a myriad of daily maintenance medicines and immediate follow up appointments with the local cardiologist.

For 28 days I slept in his room by his side all but two nights, one of which I was literally kicked out. My mom stayed by my side every single day and went home at night where Matt was taking care of Madelyn. Wonderful friends brought us dinner (Kristin and Matt even snuck in a few beers much to the chagrin of my rule-abiding nurse), pastors visited, people we'd never even met brought us gifts to the hospital. It was an awe-inspiring experience and we're still moved thinking about it today. People all over the country were praying for our little guy and we truly felt it. I know people were praying for me too. Even though I think I probably seemed ok on the outside I was literally having a nervous breakdown on the inside. Then a few days before our release I had a complete change of heart- I realized that if he had to have a heart transplant than that was ok. He was worth every day we would spend in that hospital, and I wouldn't want anyone else in the world to be his mommy, so I better suck it up and deal.

I think one of the greatest blessings is that he was so small he won't remember any of the experience. He won't recall the excrutiating pain he encountered, the wires and monitors, or the smell of the hospital. I on the other hand, will never forget. Emotional drama aside, what it did provide us was 28 days of uninterrupted time together. I held him for 28 straight days in that hospital- praying, singing, crying, and hoping for an absolute miracle. And all I can say is I must be on God's good side because I got one.

Thanksgiving- Gumkowski style

Just wanted to share a few pictures from our Thanksgiving celebration last week. It was a full on Gumkowski holiday (i.e. my mom's entire side of the family was present). Bet you've never heard that last name before. I think it goes without saying that mom was more than happy to take on the last name Green when she married my dad.

Anyways, it was a super fun holiday. A little hectic with two kids, 50 people in attendance, and house guests, but totally worth it. Let's just say mom and I completely forgot to cook the one side dish we were in charge of bringing. Literally completely forgot. And a family holiday is not complete without our corn casserole, but thankfully that means I get to cook it for us this week and we can eat it all ourselves!

Without further adieu, our holiday in pictures.


Here's the whole group after our big meal in my Aunt Donna's backyard. Please disregard the white bottle of RoundUp in the front of the picture. Professional photographers we are not (although I just noticed that there is a tripod on this shot that we aren't using. Strange.)

The boys posing with their cigars. Apparently every family holiday must involve cigars....

And shots. Shots! Who does shots on Thanksgiving?! Not I. But I did enjoy watching.

Mom and her girls (and baby D) (side note: thank you Banana Republic for producing this amply flowy top which allowed me not only to conceal remaining baby poundage but extraneous sweet potato casserole and pecan pie. I am eternally grateful.)

Grandma and Grandpa pre-shots (this is kind of false advertising because Grandma didn't actually do one.)

Southern holiday requirement: corn hole. No prior experience necessary.

It also helps to have a bouncy house present for the children. It's like a large plastic babysitter.

Onlookers. And yes, my Aunt lives in the middle of nowhere. There are actual hay bales across the street. My sister from NYC couldn't believe when a man rode by on a tractor. It was her equivalent to watching Little House on the Prairie.

Me and said sister in the requisite front porch shot.

And a few cuddles with Gigi and the kiddos before leaving town. If you can't tell in the Dora princess dress and cheesy grin, Madelyn has become quite a little ham.

All in all it was a truly wonderful weekend. Now on to Christmas!