the dignity is gone

Friday night.
Standing in line.
Waiting to order pizza.
It's my turn.
I am wrapping up my order when my 4 year old boy starts playing my a** cheeks as if they were a bongo.
He drummed the drum solo of his life.
I turn around to see a 15 person line behind me.
I now have red cheeks. BOTH kinds of cheeks.

Check please!

hello again, I'm back with my 300th post!

Coming back here to write after all this time feels like meeting an old friend. Someone that I know and love very dearly. But at one point I was total bonehead and I didn't really say sorry. And I know it. And they know it. But they love me anyway. And so now we are meeting up to talk/hangout/shoot the breeze. And my hands are clammy and my throat is thick. I'm shaky. I'm nervous to be here again. I think, what do I even have to say? Who even READS this anymore? Well, clearly, no one because you haven't posted anything in over a YEAR (see above: bonehead)

But then........a friend out of the blue asks me........'When are you writing part 2?' and I'm like......FOR WHAT? I laugh nervously.......trying to avoid the subject......trying to avoid that I feel like a TOTAL BONEHEAD. How do you apologize for that? Do you even need to?

"Hi my name is Yana"
{group unison} "HI YANA"
"and I'm a total bonehead"


There. OK. So by now you have probably read my Disaster series (please do, they are tragic!) and know that Chris is still sick but improving and that I could probably write a book about everything we have gone through. I probably should. Maybe I will. For now, let's just work on updating the blog, shall we? Horse before the cart stuff. Typical me.

If you or anyone you know if suffering from Lyme disease and you aren't getting help or answers, EMAIL me. I an angry advocate wife and I would love to pass on the hard earned knowledge we gained.

That's all for today.

love, recovering BH.

The Disaster pt. 2

[I wrote this post a year ago. Just finished putting on it's lipstick and finally hitting publish. If you haven't read part 1, go do it. It's a doozy.]

My eyes peel open around 6:30 am.
I heard sounds of my family breathing deeply in their sleep. My body, on the other hand, aches, and my head hurts from barely sleeping. Only mothers know the feeling of their heart and brain so on edge from a child being sick that they are half asleep only to jolt awake, ready to take action at any given moment.
Except this was different. It wasn't my child who was sick this time; it was my husband. I peel myself out of bed and shower, only to put on yesterdays dirty clothes, and yesterdays underwear inside out.
I check my phone and respond to the numerous texts that I got throughout the night. Our family and friends were all wondering the same thing; 'HOW IS CHRIS TODAY???'
Soon he stirs.
After a few minutes he gets out of bed and into the shower. Gets dressed in yesterdays dirty clothes, with yesterdays inside out underwear. Then he starts to shake and his color goes from pale to ghostly white. His face goes numb and his abdomen spasms and goes stiff. He tells me he feels like he could pass out and not wake up.  He needed to go to the hospital. At this point the kids are awake and I am trying to get the totally incompetent front desk woman to call an ambulance for me. Finally, she connects me to 911 and a seemingly long time later, the EMT's arrive. After checking his vitals, they report that he seems quite stable and while they are legally obliged to tell me that they should bring him in, they suspect that he has the FLU and that he needs to rest. Push your flight back a day or two and he'll be fine, they said. They leave, but not before denying me a bandaid for some injury I incurred on our hell day before; legally, they can't give me anything. I would have to be a patient.
A little while later I get a text that my good friends and sisters Karen and Maryanne were driving down from upstate NY to help us.  Not long after they arrive, we tool Chris to the hospital.
We asked the front desk for a wheelchair and after looking around for a while, they couldn't find one. So we put him in a rolling desk chair and somehow pushed him into the lobby. Pushing that chair on carpet was surprisingly hard. The staff could not have been more unhelpful. This was the worst hotel in the history of bad hotels. Thankfully Karen talked to the manager for me [aka tearing him a new one] and got us a carseat for the baby and a 'discounted hotel rate due to an emergency'. After that the the staff were a little bit nicer to me. [thanks karen!]

Instead of driving to the nearest ER, we drove to a rich part of town about 30 minutes away.
Another achingly long wait in the ER waiting room. When you are in a crisis, time creeps by in the most painful manner. Finally, we get into triage and then into a private room. 3-4 hours later we FINALLY see a doctor. We explain the whole story to him and he thinks the same thing - a flu, or a virus. They take lots of blood and run lots of tests. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. But Chris's temperature is still up and down, his blood pressure is up through the roof and then down again, he was shaking, his face was numb, he was nauseous and his body was stiff with muscle spams. It was so frightening. And nearly every nurse and doctor that came into our room would barely look at or touch him, they would only check the monitors. The hours crept by. Tests result came in. All seemed well. But he was looking worse and worse. 8 hours later a new shift of nurses and doctors came and we had to explain the whole thing over again. Some were more compassionate than others, but for the most part, everyone was awful. NEW JERSEY IS THE PIT OF HELL. A nurse came to discharge us in the middle of one of his intense episodes - shaking, spasms, numbness, blood pressure spiking - and she was asking him to sign his discharge papers. I yelled at her "OH Noooooo! He's not going anywhere! We are NOT leaving. Look at him!! Stop looking at your freakin monitors and LOOK AT MY HUSBAND!" She patronizingly told me to calm down and suggested that I should step out of the room because I am adding to my husbands anxiety. OHHHHHH. If looks could kill, I would be guilty of cold, blooded, murder.
Eventually, because they couldn't find anything technically wrong, they discharged us. We made the drive back to our funky hotel and settled into bed, praying that tomorrow he would wake up ok, and we could fly to Hawaii. The next morning I got up, showered, put on my 3 day old dirty clothes, and ditched the underwear.  Chris woke up in rough shape. We quickly realized we were not flying anywhere, and the only place we should be going was back to the ER. We had to explain to the hospital staff why we were there again. They literally rolled our eyes at us.
Thankfully, my sweet 4 month old baby slept through most of this whole thing, and when she wasn't sleeping, she was smiling and making us smile through our tears. I am a highly emotional human being, so naturally, I was an emotional wreck. I was irate from the medical care we were getting and freaking out that my husband was dying!? When I realized that second day in the ER was our 4th wedding anniversary, the tears started flowing and didn't stop. As I sat next to my husband, holding his hand, praying for him, reading the Psalms to him, crying, remembering our 4 years of marriage, remembering the vows I made to him. The vows to stand by his side 'in sickness and in health'. Those words sounds so romantic when you say them, and you know that you meant them, but you hope you wont have to.

After another pointless day in the ER, we were discharged again and like wounded soldiers, we hobbled back to our hotel. After our three days of hell on earth, Chris's concerned parents drove through the night from Maine and arrived at our hotel in the morning. They brought us car seats, food, clothes, clean underwear (HALLELUJAH) tissues and great big hugs. Then they packed us into their tiny car and drove us home. Never been so happy to see my house in all my life.

That was June 2012. We spent that summer in and out of the ER. We saw dozens of doctors. We went to John Hopkins only to be discarded like yesterdays news. We ran countless tests. Gave a minimum of 80 samples of blood. He had CT-Scans, x-rays, Spinal Taps, Lumbar Punctures, saliva tests, stool samples and met a Psychiatrist. We searched and searched and searched until we came to the conclusion of: Lyme Disease. It's a beast of a disease. That is a whole other blog post.

That all began 26 months ago. As of today, my husband has improved to the point where he can work part time 20 hours a week, but still feels the sting of this disease daily, in some way or another.
We only got this far because of the endless support of our family and friends, and mostly, our Faith in the Lord. Even though we have absolutely no idea why this happened, we still trust that He is good.

Sorry it took so long to write all this. I guess in one way or another I had to weed out all the things that weren't vital to survival. Because some days, surviving is the only option I had.

I will try to post again....soon.

The Disaster, pt 1

'..check, check...123. Is this on?'

Hello blog. It's me, your deserter...uh, I meant writer!
I haven't been around much. To say the past year has been 'rough' is a vast understatement. It's been hell. I've tried to come back a few times to say hello and explain it all, but every time I tried, the words just didn't come. It hurt too much to relive it. But it's a new year, and it's time to talk. Here goes nothing.

Have you ever planned for a really big, fun vacation? You got the tickets booked and your calendar is marked. Your husband cleared his work for 12 days for a great family vacation to Hawaii! [cue ukulele music now] You get your bags all packed, ready by the door. You load up the car with your overflowing bags full of stuff you wont need, so you should've just packed a bathing suit kind of  luggage. You load up the kids with their binkies, blankets, suckers and everything else imaginable that could entertainment a 4 month old and a 2 1/2 year old for a 17 hour journey to the islands. You feel invincible. You head to the airport and your excitement matches your sons thrill of seeing "airpwanes!" You are giddy, elated and so ready for vacation. You've been ready for a long time, especially after the new baby arrived. Your first small plane from little city to big connection city goes without a hitch. 'We are doing it! We are going! We are on our way!!!' You get to Newark. You find your gate, load plane number 2. You look at your husband with a twinkle in your eye. Dreaming, soon, we'll be on the beach. You give him that look that parents give each other when then can't believe how well their children are behaving. You give each other high fives. You say 'look at us! We are pros! We are on our way.' Just then the stewardess says there will be a delay, a mechanical delay. One hour wait. No problem, we got this. After an hour, they let you off the plane [side note : stroller is now in the belly of the plane.] No problem, we will just wait some more.  We STILL got this, and we are STILL going to Hawaii. An hour turns into two. Two turns into three. Three turns into meltdown city thanks to no nap. Four turns into toddler running around and screaming like a banshee [it's that crazy thing that happens when they don't nap; they get more energy. It's a phenomenon from the devil himself] Five turns into mommy sobbing because both kids are out of diapers [remember, mommy only brought 4 diapers for each kids, planning that we would already be in our connection city of San Fran by now] So mommy storms over to customer service to ask/plead/beg for diapers. With tears in her eyes and a baby strapped to her chest, she talks to the ladies at the counter. Not only were they were no help but they were extremely rude. No surprise there, the Newark Airport staff all need joy enemas. As she was still at the counter pleading for help, daddy brings over the screaming toddler and says 'You gotta take him, I'm really sick. I need to go to the bathroom'. Mommy looks at daddy not with a twinkle any longer but with dagger eyes. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME.

A few minutes later daddy emerges from the bathroom pale as a ghost. Shaking. Throwing up into the nearby trash cans. Then he lays down on the ground. The plane that has been delayed for 7 hours suddenly begins to board. That's when the the stewardess comes over and says "Ma'am, CALM. DOWN. The paramedics are on their way. You and your husband are NOT getting on the flight." Calm down? CALM DOWN???? WHAT IS HAPPENING?? Stunned. Is this really happening!? Husband is shaking, convulsing, his face and arms are numb, rigid and have spasms. He can't form words. Wife is beside herself with confusion and fear. A few people have gathered around and offered to help hold the toddler and watch carry on bags while wife runs to get medicine. After 10 minutes of solid running [with a baby in a sling] she finds an open store, gets some nausea and diarrhea medicine and returns to husband. Stranger hands over the kid and the bags, and boards the plane. Suddenly, wife is completely alone. In an empty terminal. A strangely deserted wasteland of a terminal at only 9:30 pm.  She could practically see tumble weeds rolling by. Crying, with two crying children, and a very very strangely sick husband. She saw one lone man walking by and he actually looked at her with compassion and asked if she was ok. She replied 'worst *expletive* day of my life.' He said 'yeah, those days always happen in the airport. I'm sorry.'

I wish I could say this was a bad dream, or a movie. But sadly, THIS IS A TRUE STORY AND IT HAPPENED TO ME.

So you get it. IT WAS BAD. [switching to first person now]
About 15 eternity minutes later the paramedics arrive. I'm still trying to constrain a spawn of satan toddler and a baby. I ask the stewardess if I could get my stroller back before the plane departs. She snarkily replied 'Well if you had asked me 10 minutes ago, I might have been able to help you but it's too late now.' I shot her some dagger eyes, and 'oh, you mean while my husband was on the ground convulsing or when I was sprinting through the airport in gladiator sandals with a baby on chest?' She must have've been part human deep down inside, because a few minutes later she located and gave me my stroller. When she looked at me like she was doing me a huge favor and deserved a tip, I didn't even thank her. I was infuriated. Meanwhile the paramedics are checking his levels, and they said his blood pressure was better than theirs {and they laughed} and told us he probably got a stomach bug and go rest if off. Fly in the morning, they said.  Hmm, I've never heard a stomach bug that causes convulsions and spasms, but ok-ay. Thanks to the nice officer who came by to fill out a report, he got the stewardess to give us a hotel voucher. We called for a wheelchair and a guy came by but he said, oh, I'll be back in 20 minutes. Um, no thanks. So we start walking. I am carrying the baby, pushing a toddler and all our bags hanging on the stroller, and trying to support a shaky weak man. He wasn't happy that we didn't wait for him, because he began pushing him so fast that I was left alone in the dust, pushing uphill, with 40+ lbs of stuff to carry. I see Chris in the distance flailing his arms. Eventually they slow down and I catch up to them and because of the momentum I'm pushing I pass them up. I said to the guy over my shoulder ok, come on lets go. And the guy rudely says 'WELL I'M JUST DOING WHAT I WAS TOLD. YOUR HUSBAND TOLD ME TO SLOW DOWN. I said 'SIR. You have no idea what we have been through just now. Please have some compassion.' Yet another airport employee who was a total-a-hole to a beaten down family. Eventually we make it to the hotel van pick up and I reluctantly hand over a tip to the wheelchair guy. We then waited and HOUR for our shuttle.

So let me recap. No food. No water. No energy. No luggage. No diapers. Exhausted kids. Exhausted me. Sick husband. And a dingy airport hotel waiting for us. Thanks to a stranger [friend of my parents] from the city, a lovely girl named Aaron drive in from New York to our hotel and brought me diapers, food, water, hugs, a listening ear, and prayer. I got everyone settled into bed, and I showered. Never been so thankful for a shower and a bed in all my life.

~TO BE CONTINUED~

Confessions of a MO2

First there was 'Confessions of a Pregnant Woman' then came 'Confessions of a New Mom'
And now introducing a new series:
Confessions of a Mom of 2

Bill Cosby once said something to effect of 'it isn't real parenthood until you have 2!'
I have to agree with him.

When you have two, you can't be in two places at once. For instance, I was downstairs nursing Amelie and Ruehl had gone upstairs to play in his room. I noticed he was strangely quiet. Bad things happen when kids are quiet. So I cart upstairs to find him sitting on my bed with an open bottle of Tylenol, broken pieces all over the comforter, and white powder crusted on his face. Had he eaten any? I didn't know. Poison Control Center told me to take him to the E.R. Two kids, one three weeks old, in the ER for God knows how long? Awesome. Sounds like the Hubs needs to come home from work early.
A blood test revealed non-detectable levels in his system, thank God. Who knows how much THAT is gonna cost us. The next day he dumped a bucket of chalk and a roll of toilet paper in the toilet, and drank a bottle of infant gas drops.

When you have two, when one gets sick, so does the other.

When one is hungry, so is the other.

When one cries, often times, so does the other. They like to cry in sync.

When you have two, you have an entourage with you at all times. Namely, when you need to go to the bathroom. Anyone else had the straps of the sling fall into the toilet??

You get really good at doing things one handed and picking things up with your toes. For example I can nurse AND bath a toddler. Impressive, I know.

When you have two, you spend 2x the amount of time thinking about bedtime, and liquor.

When you have two, you 'cook' more frozen pizza and you 'make' more phone calls for take out.

When you have two, there are double the moments that you need to pause and remember to breathe. Take a big deep breath and slowly exhale. And Selah.

When you have two, your phone is full of double the photos, your arms are full of double the love, and you get double the kisses.

My heart is twice as big, and I've got no complaints about that.




- MO2

Amelie's Birth photos

Valentines Day - Pre & Post Kidletts

A Pre-Kidletts Valentines Day Story:

Husband wakes up wife with kisses and a morning romp.
Whispers and promises of more fun to come later.
A sweet ado, and off to work he goes.
Wife spends the afternoon doing whatever the heck she wants and, most importantly, getting ready.
And when pre-kidlett Wife gets ready, she does it right.
Long hot shower, carefully shaved legs, lotion and perfume, curling the hair, curling the eyelashes, make up; the works. And of course, picking out that hot little number, most likely black. Black is slimming.

Husband arrives home from work with a bouquet of favorite flowers adorning his arm.
Husband is super pleased with the hotness of wife. Wife is pleased husband is pleased.
Some flirting, some kissing, and they leave on-time for their romantic dinner.
They drink wine and take long, slow bites, fully enjoying every piece of food that touches their lips.
They look lovingly and longingly into each others eyes. They whisper some more.
They return home, Husband carries Wife over the threshold, and...if you have any imagination at all, you know what comes next.

All in all, a perfect romantic evening.


Post-Kidletts Valentines Day Story:

Wake up bleary eyed from a long night with a newborn.
Husband says, 'I love you'. Bleary eyed Wife says 'Happy Valentines Day babe' and sticks a boob in the baby's mouth and falls back asleep.
Instead of a whisper waking her up she hears ' Mom!! MOM!!! MOOOOOOOOOOM!' thundering from her toddlers room.
She stumbles down the hallway, changes a massive poop diaper and totes toddler downstairs to watch Sesame Street. With both kids spoken for, she bolts into the shower.
Showered, dressed, make up & hair thrown back into a messy chignon in under 4 1/2 minutes.
Wife spends the afternoon changing diapers, nursing, and building skyscrapers with toddler and his blocks.
Husband texts Wife on the way home from the grocery store 'Got into an accident. That was fun.'
A few moments later Wife learns it was minor, Husband is fine and it wasn't his fault.
Wife breathes sigh of relief, then feeds toddler, toddler gets oatmeal everywhere, Wife bathes toddler. [What do you call a woman who bathes a kid and nurses at the same time? SuperWoman.]
Bleary eye and tired Husband arrives home mildly annoyed from the accident, with a slightly crushed single rose adorning his arm. Husband kisses wife, puts away groceries, opens a beer, takes baby from Wife's arms and sits on the couch.
After putting toddler to bed, Husband and Wife start cooking. It's 8 pm. Baby wakes up crying, Wife straps baby in the Moby. With baby finally asleep they finish cooking and sit down around 9 pm to a tasty and hot meal of filet mignon, risotto, and mozzarella caprese. Baby wakes up, of course, so Husband eats meal one handed while holding baby. Toddler rouses, and which parent went to soothe him; this story teller doesn't remember. Wife drinks wine too quickly.
Husband starts to say something romantic, when he is cut off by Wife. Not by her lips, or saying something romantic in return, but rather a fart. Wife had a baby 3 weeks prior and she doesn't have full control of her sphincter muscles yet.
Husband and Wife break into laughter. 'Were you going to say something romantic...and then...I farted???' she sputters in between laughs.
'Yes.'
'Well....let me finish your thought. All.....things.....considered........I  love....you.....aaaaand....?
'...this was a really nice evening.'
'I love you too. Welcome to life with children. Happy Valentines Day babe.
'Happy Valentines day love.'

Husband and wife crawl into bed, with baby, and with a quick kiss, they crash.
No romping for this tired, kidlett-clad couple. There's always next year.

Brink party of 4!

Here's a sneak peak at Amelie's newborn shoot with the amazing Claire Pelella.

5 days 'fresh' !

ps. Where is Rue, you may be asking? Well. 

We did attempt to include our son in this shoot. Attempt, is the key word here.

He was quite hyper. Quite. He would get on the bed, stand up, jump, do a barrel row and fling himself off the bed. Sitting still for two seconds?? Out of the question!

So, we are not pretending that our daughter is perfect and that we don't have a son....

honest!

Photos courtesy : Claire Pelella

Amelie's Birth

My son was 10 days overdue, or  'ripe' as I like to say. So naturally, I fully expected the same treatment from his little sister. When labor started strong and consistent a day before her due date, I didn't believe it was true!

January 21st we walked to my parents for dinner. I had several contractions on the walk over. I am very familiar with Braxton Hicks, I've had them for the past 3 months. So naturally, I assumed...it wasn't real labor. After we arrived I asked for a small glass of red wine and sat down. Quickly I realized the contractions were quite regular. But no need to time them, 'this isn't real labor. It can't be.' After 30-45 mins of contractions, I pulled out my iPhone and started tracking. Three minutes apart, on-the-dot! Chris, Rue, and my parents sat down at the dining table, but I knew that sitting on the hard dining room chair during contractions would not be fun! I opted to eat my dinner at the counter standing up. 

We walked home at 7:30 telling my mom to keep her phone on because most likely this was really happening and we will probably have a baby the following day. We got home and I jumped into the shower while my husband put my son to bed. They had increased in pain a bit and were two & a half minutes apart and lasting about a minute. During a contraction break I texted my best friends and family - 'This is happening! I'm in labor!' I was so excited. During the breaks I'd be dancing to my birth playlist, texting a friend & checking Facebook. Then a contraction would hit and I would surrender to the pain and squat down. It felt so natural to squat, I knew I was progressing.  After my shower I got dressed, fixed my hair and put on my favorite handkerchief and earrings. I didn't want to look shabby for the paparazzi! While Chris was blowing up the birthing pool I was pacing around, happy as a clam as I waited for the next contraction. When we gave my midwives an update we told them they didn't need to come, because 'we are doing great!' I fully expected to be in labor for hours, so I didn't want them to come too early and just sit around. By 10 the contractions had picked up intensity and I couldn't talk through them. My midwives were wise and decided to come. When they arrived at 11, I gave them a quick hug and then got back into labor mode. I had Chris hang a rope from a beam in our living room so I could hang on to it and bear down. Squatting gave me the most relief. It only took watching me for a few contractions before Rowan suggested to fill up the pool. She told me 'Ok, I think you need to get in now!" and I freaked. 'But you told me I didn't need to get into the pool until transition!! Until I was near the end!?!" to which she responded with a smile, 'You're IN transition!'  That was when I started to freak out. I was crying, and shaking, and laughing. I couldn't believe I could actually be that far already?? I was very emotional. I was never checked by my midwife, but it's safe to say I dilated from a 2/3 centimeters to a 10 in about 4 hours. It was very quick and painful. No wonder I was super emotional!

Right around 11:30 my friend Niki arrived. She came to take pictures. But my mom, was no where to be found. We had texted and called....I was starting to get angry. 'Where is my mom!? Someone CALL HER. NOW.' My mom finally arrived at 11:45. I guess my subconcious was waiting for her because the next contraction came my body started pushing automatically. My midwife noticed.

'You were pushing weren't you' 

'Yeah I guess I was' 

'Ok, well go ahead push.

'You don't even need to check me???'

'Nope, your body knows it's ready'

Around midnight I started pushing. The pain was overwhelming and I thought surely I can't do this. 

But my amazing birth team were all saying the opposite. Rowan suggested Chris get in the tub behind me and hold my legs back. I was not happy with that suggestion....thinking 'this is MY zone. MY birth pool! I don't want him in here!' I relented and he got in. I don't know if I said it out loud or not, but I definitely thought 'I don't like you right now!' and gave him an icy cold stare over my shoulder. Everyone saw it and laughed. But wow, I'm so glad he did get in the water. Having his help really made all the difference. I sat on his lap and he pulled my legs back. I pushed and pushed. When Rowan told me to check myself I felt her head about was about 2 inches in. I gave it my all and pushed. Felt like I was ripping in two. Rowan told me to reach down and feel her head, and I felt her face. Her entire head was out. My body flooded with a glorious joy rush and with that I pushed her out. 12:43 am. They placed her on my chest and I was at total rest. Her little body was covered with a beautiful coating of vernix and she had a little gentle cry. She was so quiet. They didn't suck her nose, or prod her, they just let her be. It was amazing. 

The moment we saw her we knew her name. Amelie Fiora Loraine. We were waiting to see her before we named her. I'm glad too, it is so fitting. After birthing the placenta we walked upstairs into my room and crawled into bed. My son had woken up when he heard us all screaming and rejoicing. So my mom brought Amelie into his room. He was a little shell shocked - why are there so many people in my room taking pictures of me? But he quickly warmed up to the idea and came into our room. He sat next to me and pointed at her- 'Sissy head! Sissy ear! Sissy eye!' We were all up till 4 am, checking her out, taking pictures, getting her weighed and measured - 7 lbs 4 oz and 19 inches long. 6 hours of labor, 3 of those were serious, with 45 minutes of pushing. 

She's 10 days old. We are all adjusting well and enjoying every second of this sweet little girl, our petite Amelie!

She's here!

One minute she's not here, and the next....

Amelie Fiora Loraine Brink has arrived on the earth!

Born punctually on her due date, January 22nd at 12:43 am.
Birthed naturally at home, in water, guided by the loving hands of the best birth team in the world.
She weighed 7 pounds, 4 ounces, 19 inches long.

Amelie (Ah-meh-lie) means industrious, hard working & admiring.
Fiora (Fee-or-ah) means Little Flower.
Loraine is Chris's beloved Grandmother who passed away suddenly last year. We honor her by keeping her name in the family.

She is amazing and we are so in love. We are all doing great.

Birth story and birth pictures to come soon.........but for now:

38 weeks

[enlarged] in the waiting

The girl in my belly has grown a lot in this past month, and I am proof.
We have 2-3 weeks more of waiting before she arrives 'stateside' as I like to say.
The last bit of waiting is always the worst part, mostly because my body is so uncomfortable. But mentally...that's where the waiting messes me up. In the waiting imaginations run wild. The anticipation of the unknown is always more daunting than the actual unknown. I find that over and over again in my life. Because, when you're in it, you're just in it. You can face it. You can deal. When you are waiting to be in it, you only have fear to keep you company. And fear is a mean companion....I'd rather have a sweet snuggly newborn and an unpredictable toddler. At least I know I won't be bored! Haha.

Today I realized my 'baby' is actually nearly 2. This afternoon we moved him into his new room, his big-boy-room, it hit me that his sister, the-new-baby, will take his old place. I will admit, I cried. It's such a bizarre thought! I mean, for nine months I've thought about it...but it's so close I can taste it.

38 weeks. Her clothes are washed, the birth kit is stocked up and I have even picked out a few of my favorite clothes and scarves so I won't have to go hunting for them when it's labor time. And while we still have more to do in terms of being 'ready' like decorating and cleaning, our hearts are ready.

Come on baby girl, mama and daddy [and the rest of the world] want to meet you.

xoxoxox

totes adorbs!

the cute factor in this video is off the charts!

happy birthday Jesus, and merry christmas y'all!

music is a memory

As D-day quickly approaches [44 days, holla!] I am getting my ducks in a row: Things to have on hand for the birthday. Ordering the birth pool liner. Ice cream bucket for the placenta. Say it with me in a spanish accent, PLAAACENTA. Drag out that A. Cheking off the list of midwife requested items: washcloths, towels, coconut water, witch hazel and jumbo jet 747 sized pads. But I've added my own important item thing on the list:
Birth play list! MUSIC!

I had a playlist prepared for Rue's birth, but when shove came to push [ha] all I wanted to listen to was Brian and Jenn Johnson's cd "Love Came Down". That sucker was on repeat for nearly 24 hours. Straight. I didn't want to listen to anything else. Afterwards, I was tempted to throw the cd into a bucket of gasoline and light a match. It was a gorgeous cd, tainted with crazy wonderful painful memories. I couldn't listen to it after [for a long time] without being lurched back to that place, and just turning it off.

Then tonight, it came on my iTunes and all I could do was smile as I remembered my 24 hour labor! It was a beautiful cd for me again! That makes me think I am more ready for this birth that I ever thought.

Isn't it amazing how music [and scent!] can contain such sensory memories and bring us right back to a specific moment in time?

OK, off I go to start compiling my song list. Any recommendations?

paint speaks

I told a friend 'I am painting little miss's bureau tonight' and she asked me 'what color?' and I responded, 'I  don't know yet, I am making custom colors as I go' and she called me quite the 'arteeest'.
Flattering, but I kind of shied away from it. Why? Well, I didn't actually have a 'plan' of what I was going to create. For a perfectionist like moi, sometimes no plan is the best plan. Because if I know exactly what it is I want and can't active it, I am disappointed in myself *creatively*. I am my worst critic. So, instead, I make a point to throw out a plan and listen to the paint.  Paint speaks, and I strive to listen. When I dive into a project and just let my heart be open, and my options wide, I am able to create outside of my box. Go with the flow and throw fear out. Because there's nothing that white primer and 60 grit sand paper can't fit. That's how God feels to me. He speaks, and I try my best to listen with earnest. And I respond, and sometimes what happens in my heart is beautiful and inspiring. Sometimes I mess up and overdo it, and try too hard to make [or be] something perfect, or something that I have seen before. And that's when God steps in with the white out and we start over. He doesn't want us to be someone else, or do something that has been previously created and perfected. He wants to create something new in us, through us. Many beautiful scriptures describe being a new creation:
Ephesians 4:24 -And to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. Ephesians 2:10 - For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.
Isaiah 65:17 - Behold, I will create new heavens and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered, not will they come to mind.

See, white out. And the running theme, 'create something new'.

I love God. I don't think I say that enough on this little blog. But seriously, I do.  It so inspiring to serve a Creator that loves to create something new in me, every day. So friends, let's throw out fear of failure and mistakes and just let God create something new in us. Primer and sandpaper is always there.

preparing for 'D-day'

Every day, I try to remember to take a moment and think about Delivery day.

It's quickly approaching, at a mere 56 days according to my i-Phone ticker. So wether I'm late [heavens, please no, not again] I'm 'ripe' and ready, or even early [gasp! do I even entertain the thought?] time is ticking away. Tick...tick...ticking away. So today I prepared for birth by watching A Baby Story. I usually avoid it completely because as a home birthing mama, the hospital intervention/mantra completely stress me out. But today's episode was a home/water birth, and it was so real. She was in pain, for sure, but it was still peaceful. It was beautiful. She birthed her daughter in the water and pulled her up to her chest. 

AND I LOST IT. Bawling-my-eyes-out LOST IT. It made my heart swell up with overwhelming excitement and anticipation for MY moment. For that first moment when I get to hold my little baby girl in my arms. To finally see the life that I've been growing and dreaming about.  

I can say with all honesty I have about 98% confidence and peace in my heart when I think about labor.

So that leaves a mere 2% of me that is FREAKING out. 

Question for the mamas reading: how did/do you prepare for labor? The first time is so scary and unknown, so is the second[+] time easier because of having less to fear?

I welcome any encouraging advice, prayers and wisdom. I'd like to eradicate that 2% if at all possible ;)

Love, Yana   

November Showers bring PINK girly stuff

My incredible Mother, MIL and best friends showered Little Miss and I last night. Best party ever!
Pink champagne for the ladies, cider for me. Delicious stinky cheese and crackers [my love language] Dried fruit and nuts. Turkish lamb meatballs and chicken kebabs. Tabouli and Fall inspired salads.

The gifts were outta control. Little Miss' shoe collection is quickly overshadowing mine, receiving 8 shoes and booties, all pink and silver. Add those to the 4+ pairs I have already for her, and she owns more shoes than I do! She got a tutu and a crown [YES!] a rad quilt, some sweet headbands and the most incredible hand made baby book. So much pink! I love it. That is just a tiny taste of the love [in gift form] that she received. I can't wait to dress my little fashionista.

I was honored to be sitting in a room full of women that truly love me and are cheering me on as I bring another little life into the world.

The food

The flowers

The Invitation

Cheese & Fruit

Beautiful friends

Beautiful friends continued

Little Miss, Mom, & Me

The handsome Moses Kingsley

Imagining my cider is champagne ;)

My Mother-in-Law & Pastor's wife

Pink cake pops!

Gift bags for the ladies

Opening gifts

Loving friends

oohing & ahhing

Ladies

with my 'baby'

My Beautiful Moms

The man responsible for it all ;)