Work hard. Be fierce. Take naps.

I became consciously aware that I was taking a week off from blogging last Thursday. The fact that I didn't notice on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday really solidified that I was probably too busy and unfocused to blog anyways. Yes last Thursday I sat in my craft room, looked at my camera and then my laptop and exhaled "We need a break. We'll start fresh next week." I mean, of course I had 1,782 other projects simultaneously in the works. As always. But having one less thing-1,782 instead of 1,783-made the difference. Left just enough space in my mind to ponder where I want to be and what I want to be. In the back of my mind I probed: What do I love about me? What changes do I want to make?

Work hard.
I am a hard worker. If nothing else, at the end of any given day I can hold my chin up high and say I worked hard and played hard and squeezed every last bit of juice out of my day. This trait and habit seems so foundational to the person I am and want to be. Every grade, photo, story are all bits of my work, and where talent fails, hard work steps in. You say, "I can do hard things" and I say, "If you work hard". And I kind of love this aspect of life. I feel like working hard is the little miracle given to us to help us make up the difference. Olympian's have natural talent for sure, but hard work fills the gap between great and best in the world. Hard work is my security blanket. I know I can count on hard work to see me through.

Be fierce.
I want to attack life. You know?...really jump into it with both feet. I want to take risks, and not just the small ones, but the big ones. I want to embrace my heartfelt and intense passion for life like it's my everything and I don't want feel complacent. Being fierce is about being aggressive. Not letting life just happen to you, but molding life into the adventure you want is to be. I think it takes a great deal of bravery and fierceness to actually live the life you dream of living. Last week I decided I can't just talk about my passionate life. I am going to go ahead and live it.

Take naps. 
Literally, it's okay to skip a few things you "have to do" and just sleep instead. Skip a week of blogging. Don't do laundry. I desire more metaphorical naps as well. More vacations and long walks. Taking naps from crossing things off lists and use that time to develop talents and indulge in a good book. Taking naps is also about taking breaks. Breaks from working and being fierce and breaks from people, especially the people who drain you. My single favorite part of graduating from high school was that I no longer was forced be around toxic people. Being a kind a cordial person is at the center of my personal goals, but I think there is something self-healing about distancing yourself from people who make you feel drained. There are plenty of people who suck the life out of life and I don't really need to spend my naps with them.

So after a good long week away from this blog of mine, I came to the conclusion that if I really wanted this to last and I really wanted to find joy in life I needed to keep working hard (I mean really really hard), live the hell out of life, and throw in a few breaks. Nothing revolutionary but insightful nonetheless. 

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portraits of 8 AM

Sometimes it is 8:00 am and Nugget is sleeping. I quietly roll out of bed, tiptoe down the stairs, and sneak a bowl of mini wheats. And then, with cereal in hand, I indulge in some blog reading. The greatest part about this new house-like my absolutely favorite part ever-is my craft room. It's like my sanctuary, a room just for me, well me and my pet cactus. At 8:00 am the sun shines glorious rays of warmth, full throttle through my south-facing window. It is the warmest room at 8:00 am. All is calm at 8:00 am.
But then I feel the pull of laundry
and the rustling of an anxious dog
my fingers drift from scrolling through blogs to my inbox of emails and their answering
upstairs my chubby sidekick starts to rustle and fuss awake
and then it is after 8:00 am
and it is time to begin everything else that happens after 8.

I sure do feel lucky that my moments alone are at 8 am and not yet 5 am. I feel grateful for my home, my freedom, my faith.
But more than anything I am grateful for my family. My husband. And that little Nugget who needs me constantly (but sometimes not at 8 am).

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mommy lunch, it's a doozy

The above pictures are the aftermath of a day date. And here is how the story goes. 

Um k. Lets talk lunch dates with Nugget. 

This week is the birthday week of my good friend Ashley. We girls were like "hey...lets go out and celebrate."

Good idea right?

Not really so much. 

I prepared for lunch date with Nugget like a champ. I got up early. Read scriptures. Lugged Nugget to Zumba. Put Nugget down for a nap. Showered. Makeup. Hair. Dog potty. Nugget up. Bath. Dressed. 

At this point I was sweating profusely. Bangs stuck to forehead. 

So you would think it a good idea to dress us both up for glacier temperatures right?

Um no.

Currently Fall and I are not on speaking terms. She was all "Hey! Here I am with my crisp winds, orange leaves, and cool temps!" And I believed her! Turns out, yesterday was 75 degrees. So this morning for our lunch date I pulled on the skinny cords and knee-high chunky boots. I even put on an obnoxiously large and adorable scarf. 

You wouldn't be able to tell from our above shots (taken after lunch date), but Nugget was forced to endure the same clothes layering torture. In addition to the jeans and long-sleeve onesie pictured above, Liam sported a long-sleeve button down, socks, and shoes. The poor child. 

So you see, my closet wanted 40 degrees. We got 75.

Alrighty. After a 20 minute drive we pulled up to the restaurant. I parked Husband's ridiculously large truck, repelled safely out the truck door, wrestled with Nugget's car seat, and promptly shut my scarf (the obnoxiously large and adorable one that was around my neck) in the truck door. Unloading only took 10 minutes. Woot woot!

At this point I probably could have turned back, but mommy lunch dates are very important you see. 

Nugget and I were the first to arrive (I know, I was surprised too). Three other mommies were on their way and there must be something in the water because in our little group of moms we sported 5 baby boys: 2 nine-month olds (not twins, different moms), 1 seven-month old (Nugget of course), and 2 five-month olds (twins, same mom). 

Highchairs and strollers threatened to consume our whole table. 

By the time we ordered I was pitted out. Delightful!

All of us mommies ate with purpose. We bounced a baby with one hand and scarfed down sandwiches with the other. I was perfectly full after finishing my first sandwich half, but didn't want to crawl out of the maze of babies to find a box, so I promptly consumed my other sandwich half.

Every few seconds another clothing item came off (this sentence taken out of context would sound very naughty ;) ). First my obnoxiously large and adorable scarf (tear). Next Liam's pointless extra shirt. And of course the shoes and socks had to go (mom, he can't even walk yet, duh).

By the time we finished I felt like I had completed a cross-fit program. That lunch made me a P90X graduate. It was like training for a half-marathon. (Are you sick of my workout analogies yet?)

Birthday wishes to the birthday girl. Back to the car, purse stuffed with clothes. Into the car seat that both Nugget and I loath.

Upon arriving home, Nugget and I promptly shredded a couple more layers of clothing, retreated the the cool basement, and napped to the Ellen show. Whew.

The moral of the story is: mommy lunches are important, so order delivery pizza next time.

Jokes aside, I do feel lucky to have such great friends! Our babies and lunch dates are the stuff good lives are made of! Heaven bless the birthday girl and her adorable twin boys!

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lists: a short essay

Sometimes I make lists. This is how I organize the world and my place in it. Others think in different terms about their existence and direction. I make lists.

I lie in bed staring at the ceiling fan. It ticks with every rotation because that's what rude ceiling fans do. Put that on the "fix list". I tell myself. 
This night is a calm night because everyone is asleep. They are dreaming, snoring, shifting. Not me though. I lie still and am wide awake. 
This sacred time, when I am alone in thought, is when I start making my best lists. The kind that seem remarkable the second they enter my mind. 

This blog was thought of in the middle of the night. I thought to myself, I have things to say. I should start a blog!
I put "blog" on my "projects" list. It would be three years before I  mustered up the courage to start this blog. 
Things on lists are kind of scary. Some lists mean so much to me that they frighten the hell out of me. Lists are funny that way. 
Those little bullet items stare up at me from neon post-its and I, sometimes unconsciously, attach much of myself and self-worth to them. 
If a list lays unaccomplished, I feel defeated, lazy, unaccomplished.

At times I fear starting the list because I greatly fear failing. Usually these lists include projects I dream up at 2:00am. 
Mind you, grocery lists don't lead me to such self-stalling; but its true if I don't complete the grocery list, or the cleaning list, a tinge of self-doubt and anxiety creep into my mind. How can so little a task seem like so much?

List make some days feel like déjà vu.
- wake at 7:00am
- run 3 mile
- breakfast
- baby bath
- baby nap
- shower self
- ready self
and then it's already 1:00 in the afternoon! 1:00 already?!

Yet somehow the moments where I make lists remain my sacred moments. Yes lists define me. 
My greatest accomplishments link with thousands of lists made and crossed out. High school diplomas, college degrees, weddings, children (child)...all came because of lists of some sort or another. 
Internal battles may rage, but lists are a part of me...a medium for my goals...an organization of my dreams...a catch-all for ideas good and ideas bad.

Lists take courage. It takes courage to make the list, courage to start the list, courage to achieve the list. Lists push me to learn more and to be lazy less. Great lists force me to the boundaries of my creative potential. The best lists bring me closer to my husband and son, and closer to God. 
Lists open opportunities for failure. They force me to wrestle with self-doubt. They provide the opportunity to overcome.

Yes. I will keep laying in bed making lists, because without them, I halt. And stopping will simply not do.

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on a rainy day

I am not complaining...not for one second. But the last couple days have been a bit rainy.
This is a very good thing, the rain is.
The smell of wet concrete soothes a soul.
And cloud cover with cool temps was necessary. Mother Earth needed the rain and so did we.
As rain drops plop little Liam's teeth decided to pop...teething has been a whirlwind of fevers and boogers and crying.
To join the fun we grown ups decided to get sick too. 
So with the rain and runny noses a little sunshine was just what we needed.
And I was happy to oblige. I pulled on my new sunshine pants for a fun visit to aunt Jodi's.
We enjoyed the rain and my pants protested the gloomy teething/flu blues.

 

 pants and shirt come from here

shoes come from here

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Breast Friends

Yo folks. So sorry for the post-lacking. I am super busy but here is a little post I wrote on the road. WARNING: I talk about boobs the whole time. You're welcome.

So all this summer travel has inspired me to post about a topic near (literally) and dear to our hearts...breasts. These culturally charged parts of our anatomy come in all shapes and sizes and serve a common function for all (most maybe? I need to research this) our mammalian friends, which is, they produce milk. And let me tell you, my calf/pup/piglet/kid LOVES him some milk. So much so that as we drive, swim, shop, eat, and play I am usually interspersing said activities with breastfeeding. This makes my girls (aka breasts) a very flexible (pun intended) commodity.

Exhibit 1: where did these come from?

This phrase ("where did these come from?") probably best describes all of pregnancy and parenting in general. Like, "Where did these breasts come from?" or "Where did these stretch marks come from?" and my personal favorite, "Where did these kids come from?". For me, and every mommy friend I personally know, mommy boobs are a total surprise. Boobs grow, areolas grow, stretch marks appear, you start leaking. All very horror-movie-ish. But the great thing about it all is that for the first time ever your boobs are this irreplaceable tool to sustaining human life. And they just know what to do without being told. For me as a mom, it's kind of nice to have one thing that doesn't need to be bossed around.

Exhibit 2: the sag effect

It is a universal fact (actually it is totally not universal, but I like to think all nursing women are sharing my sag story) that milked boobs equal saggy boobs. There has to be a reason. I thought. And a few weeks ago I had an epiphany. I told Clint, "I got it! Mother Nature makes nursing breasts saggy so that they can adjust to all positions." This makes sense. Most women are not out there yelling this from the rooftops but breastfeeding takes on many positions. Liam's personal favorite is the laying position. With a little sag in the breast I can sleep on my side or back while Liam cuddles up next to me and sucks. Never though I would be proud of the sag, but it is effective when trying to sleep and keep Nuggets happy.
To finish my epiphany story, Clint responded, "No boobs get saggy 'cus they fill up with milk and empty milk so much...you know, like when you blow up a balloon and let the air out. That balloon will never be the same."
I am still working on brainwashing Clint to agree with everything I say. Thanks for crushing my empowering Mother Nature theory babe ;).

Exhibit 3: nursing in the car (in seat belts...don't freak out mom)

So I mentioned locations of nursing and these locations are basically everywhere. In they last week I have breastfed lying in bed (a bunch), at the side of a pool, in a GAP changing room, in an Old Navy (not changing room), in a few restaurants (Nuggets got to eat too folks), in Yosemite Mariposa Grove and the location I am most proud that I safely negotiated was nursing Nugget while he was in his carseat and I was still buckled in. I hovered, more or less, and the "sag effect" chipped in a bit too. The way I see it, I wouldn't judge a momma for feeding her toddler some snacks, why judge a momma for feeding her baby milk?

Exhibit 4: oxytocin (aka: I'm sleepy)

Finally, breasts when feeding release this nifty hormone called oxytocin into your body and your baby's body. This, as I learned in neuro-psychology, is the feel-good hormone (and you thought I would never use my degree). It also makes you sleepy which thus makes mom's the victims of inadvertent naps. I feel very much like a victim when I lay down to feed Nugget and wake up 2 hours later to find him ready to play and nothing accomplished while he slept. These moments are the moments I must give myself 2 pep talks. 1: you sleep when he sleeps. period. and 2: being with your baby is never a waste of time (it doesn't last forever I hear).

So there you have it. Breast are not scary. Spoiler alert Hollywood: breast, most of the time are not even sexy. But they can be milk-makers. They can be saggy. They could possibly have stretch marks. And they are a happy gift in the world. I'm sure glad I have mine. 

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irons in the fire.

Hello all! This week has been nutzo. And it is about to get even crazier. But before we get into the crazy, lets talk pondering. I have been pondering the direction(s) to take my blog. Of course your feedback is always welcome, but here are some of my thoughts. The Wednesday Wish list just isn't doing it for me. I would rather spend time documenting and sharing my craft/scrapbook/house projects. This is tempting me to do some DIY posts...experiment a little. When I got to this point in my contemplations I realized...I want a prettier blog (1st iron). So I need to teach myself how to make it prettier...which means some of my blogging time will be reallocated to design and I will have to decrease posting for a bit. Then I realized...I LOVE to blog. I haven't had this much fun with a project in a while. So I want a good blog, one that reflects my blog vision. Thus planning good content is a must (2nd iron). And now we get to all that is crazy in life (all my other irons): 

Last week: Grandpa Adams in and out and in and out of hospital (seems to be doing much better). Liam constipation (lovely). Bought a necklace. Bought Ellen sunglasses. Breastfed Liam. Made dinner every night (this is huge, like huge for me). Worked on my book (a book I am writing with a former professor that is almost finished and I really want to finish it because it is time to move on and I am so excited for it to be published and be an official author, which basically affirms how cool [or nerdy] I am). Cleaned house (always takes longer than planned). Planted grass. Spread bark. Breastfed Liam again. Laundry, oh my laundry. P90X. 

This week: Made fringe banner and hula skirt for Husband's birthday (DIY post to come). Bough jar lids that hold a straw (for birthday party, and yes...they are amazing). Tried on pre-prego swimsuit (it fit. so happy I could cry). Bought Bumbo. Returned Bumbo (Nuggets legs were too fat and didn't fit in the seat). Worked on book some more. Trained to do customer-service emails at Husband's work. Picnic. Breastfed. Breastfed. Breastfed. 

Next week (and this is where it gets way fun/way busy): Down to St. George for Clint/Davey/Evie/Stella birthday party. Up to Tahoe for 4th of July fireworks and celebration. Over to Yosemite for Macdonald's family reunion. Lots of pictures and posts to follow. And I will finish that book so help me!

Oh...and today Husband is 28. Happy Birthday old man ;)

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souls

being a mom is a hard job. the best job in the world, and maybe that's why it is hard. all your efforts, time, tears, and worries make it the best job because they are all directed at making another little human happy, secure, and loved. every now and then a moment occurs when i know Liam feels this love. where our souls connect. where he looks into my eyes and it doesn't matter that he can't speak the words because he tells me with his soul that i am loved. this sacred moment comes when we are lying next to each other and he looks up at me. without prompting, a grin dances across his face and i know it is just for me. sometimes when i feed him he unlatches and with milk dribbling down his chin his content eyes reach mine and i know that smile is just for me. and i know that although he cant thank me, he knows he is loved, he knows he is worried about, he knows i spend my whole day just trying to make him happy. and in that moment, when our souls meet, i know i am loved too. 

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Confessions and Going For It

I'm nervous...but any time you put yourself out there, expose a piece of yourself, you are teetering on brilliance and insecurity. I meant to post sooner, but have been pondering the purpose of my blog and have come to the conclusion (in the middle of the night) that I am going to go for it. I am going to take myself seriously as a blogger. Getting to this point required I be honest with myself, and it started with graduate school applications. In the fall my applications began. By March it was clear that I had been excepted to a masters program at Texas A&M with essentially a full-ride scholarship. The University of Utah also admitted me into a masters program. As a strong advocate for women's education and economic security, deferring Texas A&M and declining the U was painful. I felt disappointed in myself for declining, frustrated that I had even applied and put myself in that situation. But then I also knew that if I hadn't applied, I would have never seen so clearly that these programs were not right for me, not right for now. It feels good to finally put into words: I felt like I was letting the academic me/the women's studies me/the advocate me down. And it felt like a relief and panic all at the same time. 

Independent of our little Nugget, I am sure this is the choice I would have made. But I never expected motherhood to be so fantastic.

So in the middle of the night, as I held Nugget I realized it was time to go to work. To learn how to design a website. To teach myself HTML. To commit to 5 posts a week. To connect with fabulous readers via Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest. It was time to make a difference through sharing my experience and ideas. As I held my baby boy at 3:00 AM I felt like it was time for me to take myself seriously as a blogger and this would be a part of me that I shouldn't apologize for.

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Mother Adoration

Monday was a busy Monday…a day of grocery shopping and midwife appointments. And as I toted Nugget through Costco and the dreaded Wally-world (aka walmart) I began to notice other mommies sporting newborns and toddlers in grocery carts, little ones running at their feet…and I couldn't help but think of them as my heroes:

You are amazing!

You gave birth to a new human life!

You probably didn't sleep last night.

You love another human more than you ever thought possible!

You probably thought about how easy or hard it would be to breastfeed in that shirt.

How did you lose weight so fast?

We are both on team mom!

Of course before I had my own Nugget I thought babies were adorable and mommies were amazing, but I never knew how great the sacrifice and how ample the love. Seriously, having a baby has made me feel like I have entered this secret world of parenthood that you can only understand once you join in…like I was Truman on The Truman Show and I just hit the wall that looks like the sky. How did I not know what I was missing? I also thought I loved Husband a lot, but now I love him A LOT.

I think the depth of love comes mostly from the required sacrifice of parenting. When I watched parents in the produce section it occurred to me that they sacrificed so much for their children and I totally didn't get it before!

Anyways… I love Clint and I love Liam and life is good…in fact, here are some life updates: 

1…I have started to work out, mostly jogging and P90X. My goal is to be to pre-prego weight by July. For all the women out there who think they are the only beached whales during pregnancy I would like to be completely honest with you:

Before pregnancy weight = 127 lbs

Weight at 37 weeks (with massive water retention) = 181 lbs (yes math whizzes, that’s 54 lbs of pregnant glow)

Weight hours before delivery = 178 lbs (thank you feet elevation technique)

Leaving the hospital weight = 159 lbs (I peed SO MUCH)

Today's weight = 149 lbs and dropping! 

Why share this with you? First, I think we need to lighten up on our pregnant selves­-super models have nutritionists and eating disorders. Second, I need you all to keep me honest and motivated to get back in shape.

Ps…I have stretch marks on my thighs… there, I said it. Whew.

2…Husband and I are thinking about breeding Bosco. That, or chopping his manhood off (never thought I would say "chopping his manhood off" in a post)

3…Liam outgrew his newborn clothes (a moment of silence for his Monsters Inc. eyeball onesie please)

4…We went to visit the Lewis fam in Sun Valley, Idaho this past weekend. It was wonderful. We hiked every day, the boys dirt biked, no one could walk by Sunday…so much fun. Note to everyone: Sun Valley has to be the most beautiful place on earth.

With Grandma Trish

Mad that I am not holding him or feeding him

Shut your face!

Dozing.

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Liam's Birth Story

As parents, Clint and I felt a great deal of responsibility in carrying and delivering a new child into this world. This is why we (well mostly me) decided to birth naturally-it was our feeling that birth is a natural process and working with my body would be the best thing for our new little boy. Beginning the first week of January we participated in a HypnoBirthing course that taught us how to use breathing, deep relaxation, and imagery to surrender to contractions and trust that my body and our baby would conduct labor as they were designed to do. More than anything, HypnoBirthing helped me build confidence in my body and eliminated my fear of pain during labor. I'm sure this all sounds lovely on paper, but seriously, Liam's birth was a textbook HypnoBirth experience...we feel very blessed.

At 2:30 PM on March 9, 2012 my water broke. I was in the middle of watching Pride and Prejudice-trying to elevate my swollen feet-when I had the frequent urge to pee. I got up, went pee, sat down, and gush! Immediately I knew it was my water breaking, which is very rare for first time moms, but there was no doubt when the fluid that leaked through 3 layers of clothes and a blanket I made for Clint for Christmas. First, I called Clint, who didn't answer, and then I called my mom, who couldn’t believe I was going into labor already-my due date was the 19th. Next I called our midwife-Jen-who was thrilled. Then I called Clint again (didn't answer) and again (finally he stopped his meeting to answer).

"Um...my water just broke," I said.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yep...it soaked through my pants and your Christmas blanket. It was a substantial amount of fluid."

"Cool...okay well let me finish a few things up at work and I'll head home."

"Okay, love you bye."

We are pretty calm and collected right? :)

Next, like the good little HypnoBirthing student I was, I got into a giant bath and listened to two hypno scripts (Liam loves the sound of Marie Mongan's voice). Clint got home around 4:30 PM and I was just finishing up my last script. While bathing, contractions were mild and about 15 to 30 minutes apart. As first-time parents we were prepared to labor at home for several hours before going to the hospital. Like nesting birds nest, we calmly went about finishing up packing for the hospital. And then by 5:00 my contractions were 4 minutes apart. This was moving much faster than predicted.

(Note...one thing I was not expecting during labor: when you relax during a contraction you also loose all control of your bladder. Needless to say, I had to sprint to the toilet for each contraction).

With four maxi pads on (for the pee :)) and an empty car seat we were off to the hospital! We got there at 6:00 PM and when we arrived Clint asked if he should drop me off at the front.

"No I can walk." I am really tough ;).

Straight to the elevators-where I had a tremendous contraction and literally filled my Uggs with pee (another spectacular detail for you)-and up to labor and delivery. The nurses were skeptical of my quick progression but when I indicated I just wet my pants they gladly showed me to my delivery room. Waddling as fast as I could I barely got to the bed before the next contraction began. With HypnoBirthing, the idea is to achieve total relaxation during contractions so that each surge is more efficient and you have less pain because you are not fighting against your body. This totally works.

After changing I labored in the hospital bed for an hour. I was dilated to 6 centimeters and 100% effaced! Doni, my awesome nurse, was trying to get me checked in but she had to wait during surges...after doing this for an hour Clint answered the rest of her questions :). Contractions were becoming quite intense but I remained calm through each. This I owe greatly to Clint, who was seriously the world's best doula. He stood by my side through the whole labor reminding me to "relax your face, relax your eyes, and feel your baby coming to you." He really listened in those child-birth classes! Midwife Jen arrived around 7:00 PM. This is when I had the sudden urge to bathe. Off with the gown and into the tub I went. Clint's voice continued to be my anchor. He poured hot water over my belly during each contraction, which was an amazing painkiller, and the contractions progressed in frequency and intensity. They were so intense that I was moaning through each surge. If you can bring yourself to a place of trust and comfort with your body I would highly recommend deep moans through contractions. It was a miracle laboring technique. By 8:30 PM, Jen told me I was dilated to 8.5 centimeters! I felt we were close, but it also felt like I had only been in the hospital for 5 minutes.

Without much conversation I decided it was time to get out of the tub, leaning on Clint during several standing contractions, we finally made it. Laboring on my left side, surges began to come without rest in between. I could feel my body progressing quickly. At 9:00 PM I was dilated to 9.5 centimeters and switched to laboring on all fours. This did not help-I felt like I didn't have the support of the bed on my uterus during surges. Jen suggested I lay on my right side to help dilate to a 10. She also said if I get the urge to push, listen to my body and push. Within minutes I was a 10 and both Jen and Clint could feel little Liam's head. During this transitional part of labor I felt overwhelmed by the intensity of contractions. There was no break in between and I remember thinking to myself, I'm done. I didn't feel done in the sense that I wanted pain medications. I felt done with labor because I knew I was close-I literally felt like I was almost done. With one leg on Clint's shoulder (not typical-but effective :)) I began to push hard with contractions at 9:30 PM. Then I began to push in spurts between contractions. I was crowning! Midwife Jen helped Clint prepare to catch Liam (got him gloves...told him how to place his hands...you know, important details) and nurse Dori took over leg-holding duty. Moaning ("like a cow delivering a calf" as Clint puts it) I pushed Liam's cone head into the world. With great force, that freaked Clint out a bit, he pulled the rest of Liam's body out while Jen helped from my side. At 10:02 on March 9, 2012 Liam was born a healthy pink baby! He began to cry immediately like a good baby...which makes sense because he was a good pregnancy and a good labor and a good delivery...lets hope he keeps it up! Liam was 19" long and weighed 6 pounds 15 ounces.

When people say that you never really understand a charity type of love until you have a child, they are understating the truth. The kind of love you feel after delivering a child can't fit into any words. All I could think was, he is perfection. And he is. Natural childbirth has many advantages. For one, recovery has been quick and easy (the nurses got mad at me for getting up and going to the bathroom by myself after) (also, I didn’t tear, so I suppose that makes a huge difference). For two, you gain an amazing sense of confidence in and love for your body...you find an inner strength you never knew you had. But the best part of delivering naturally is feeling your baby coming to you every step of the way. The instinctual part of my being felt a deep connection to my baby, as if I knew when he was ready to come, ready for me to push, ready to be birthed. When I held him against my chest just seconds after he entered the world I said, "we did it". Liam, Clint, and I did it!

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Man. Teenager. Snooki.

There are some things people tell you about pregnancy...like "your hair and nails will improve" or "you wont believe how big your belly gets!" or "stretch marks are inevitable"...I can report back that my nail beds look great, my hair is a healthy mane, no belly stretch marks, and yes my belly is HUGE. But there are some changes I was never warned about...jerks.

1. Pregnancy turns you into a man on the phone

Explanation: the swelling in my face has created an unexpected side-effect...my previously husky voice is now 3 octaves lower which means that when people call me, they now ask for alix because they assume her husband has answered. The other day, husband Clint thought I was talking to a man on speakerphone, but nope, I was talking to the dogs in my new pregnancy voice! Hooray!

2. Pregnancy turns you into a teenager

Explanation: I was never an adolescent who struggled with acne. Of course I had my few zits here and there, but right now it looks like puberty is pissed off at my back and has decided to plague it with red bumps as far as the eye can see. I am blaming that one on Baby's testosterone.

3. Pregnancy turns you into Snooki

Explanation: with much pride I admit that never once have I witnessed an episode of Jersey Shore...I once watched 3 minutes of an interview with Snooki, though, and all I could notice were her cute little sausage feet, ankles, and legs. I can think of no better way to describe my swollen pregnancy legs than stout Italian sausage legs. So me and Snooki have something in common (plus the word on the street [aka SNL] is that she is also prego).

The last shoes that fit :)

I am so excited to have this nugget!

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