8 weeks...

I took this photo last week and I'm just getting around to posting it. We had a whirlwind of a weekend with family in town for a wedding and we were busy little bees.

This guy is not wanting to give up his smiles. Perhaps he's saving them for a rainy day or more likely he's yet to find us funny. I can see he's on the brink, but he's just holding out. Instead he looks at us as if we have horns and he wrinkles his brow in confusion. He has definitely been our most serious baby but it won't last. We're a house full of comedians and jokesters. He's bound to crack soon.

7 weeks...

We made it a week with Steve out of town - me and 5 kids - and we survived. Luckily, this guy was a gem. He slept relatively well, woke up minimally at night and went right back to sleep. Hallie stepped up and was at my side asking what she could do to help all the time. And she's at an age where she is really helpful and she loves to help - give her a couple more years and friends will be far more interesting. She held Briggs, cleaned up the kitchen, changed diapers, put Cannon to bed. She's in training mode for when she's old enough to babysit!

Briggs is still spitting up - the doctor is not concerned because he's gaining weight quickly and he doesn't appear to be uncomfortable. But it makes for a very smelly kid. He is loving bath time, even when I have to clean dry milk from under his neck! His eczema really hit a new height this week but we're getting it under control - at least for now.

6 weeks...

He's got baby acne in full force and even some eczema creeping in. No fun. Pimple baby or not - we still smother him with kisses.

Grandmas and babies...

I'm trying to go through the hundreds (dare I say thousands) of pictures that we've taken since Briggs was born. I remember at the time feeling completely out of it and foggy and yet i was consciously trying to take as many pictures as I could so I would remember those fuzzy moments.

My mom came out to help the day after we came home from the hospital. (With our original induction date it would've been a couple days after we returned home.)

Over the course of five kids, my mom has always been able to come out and help. (I know not everyone has that opportunity, I don't take it for granted one bit). With Hallie we lived close enough and when I called to tell her we were in labor, she made the five-hour drive over to the hospital. She was able to stay for a week - not nearly long enough with how difficult our lovely first child was! Hunter came early, and we had already book plane tickets, so she came when he was over two weeks old. Bennett and Cannon were both induced and we arranged for her to come a week after he was born.

Even after five kids, I'm still torn as to when is the best time to have her come. Those that she came right away, I loved the help and relaxation of her visit. Those that I had some time to heal and mend, we were able to do more together instead of me sleeping away most every day. Regardless - her visits never seemed long enough.

We spent the first part of her visit on the couch.

And a lot of baby holding.



When the kids got home from school, they wanted grandma time. Hallie consistently requested a game of Racko out on the patio, she knew my mom is a sucker for soaking up nice beautiful weather before returning home to the cold - it's a request my mom could hardly resist. They convinced her to read one of their favorite (silly) books "The book with no pictures". It really is quite amusing and the kids request that every guest read it to them.

She helped me with newborn photoshoots.


Towards the end of her stay, I started to regain feeling in my tailbone and we ventured out of the house for a few short excursions - the bike park, the Easter pageant and the plant nursery.



I had high hopes for more adventures but I was really running on empty and that was all I could manage. And my mom was just as happy sitting on the couch holding Briggs than anything else I could dream up.

Briggs birth...part 2...

The first 48 hours after I have a baby have proven to be really hard. Yes, physically it takes its toll, but its more of a mental and emotional hurdle I'm dealing with. Part of my struggle, is I hate being in the hospital. I can't put my finger on the reason why. Perhaps it's the uncomfortable bed. Or maybe the lack of natural light. Or even knowing that I have a new normal ahead of me and I'm itching to start getting back to normal.

Either way, I've learned from previous stays - I don't ever want to be alone there. In the past, Steve would stay the night and then head back home to take care of our kids and would be in and out of the hospital. I would break down. Tears, loneliness, anxiety. It was an awful feeling.

This go around Steve was with me the entire time (thanks to his parents who took the kids the whole time) and it made a world of difference. I didn't feel lonely or even sadness. We talked, we joked around, we took naps. Yes, my body still ached and it felt like I had been hit by a train, but it was manageable with Steve next to me. It was a huge sacrifice for him (most are aware just how uncomfortable those couches can be!) as well his parents. All of them were happy when I put a movie on the tv!

Shortly after we settled in to the recovery room, we had our first, and most important visitors: our kids. They were dying to come meet "Baby brother" and they came in like bulls in a china shop! Loud and excited to be there. Hallie and Hunter were delighted to hold their new brother and were so careful and loving. Bennett immediately saw a machine with a lot of buttons and said, "I should touch this mom, right? Do you think I should push this button? I want to push this button." Cannon was confused with the environment and seeing me in the bed - he stayed close to Steve's parents.






We shot our very first picture as a family of 7. This is when I realized how hard it's going to be to get everyone happy and looking at the camera at the same time going forward. Kudos to all the family photographers out there - not an easy task!


Part of what made my stay in the hospital bearable was all the wonderful visitors. Each of Steve's siblings living in the area came for a visit - most more than once, and a few friends. Sadly, I only have pictures of a few of them. I suppose I was so caught up in conversations I forgot to request pictures. Visiting with family and friends made the time go by so much faster, it was something to look forward to.






When we didn't have visitors and the room was quiet - one of us was usually sleeping while the other enjoyed some baby time. That is until a nurse walked in to take a temperature, check blood pressure or whatever else they seemed to do every two hours. They make it a little hard to rest!



When we were walking out just 48 hours after walking in - it was as if I had broken out of jail. The sun was shining and it's warmth never felt so good on my face. We drove home more cautiously than we normally do and Steve and I held hands - partly out of love and partly out of anxiousness. We were ready to face reality - our new reality - together.

Briggs' Labor Story...

There's nothing like being pregnant and having your due date come and go with little to no fanfare. My doctor started telling me at 37 weeks, "You could go at any time - you're really progressing quickly."

He told me the same thing at 38 and 39 weeks. We scheduled an induction for our due date (Monday morning) just to have a finality to my pain and uncomfortable state. (Our last two children were induced on their due date.)

Here's what I thought would be my last pregnant picture:


We were scheduled for induction bright and early Monday morning, although we were delayed with the last two so I expected to be delayed. I called Sunday night just to see if they already knew they were running behind...sure enough, they told me to sleep in and call in the morning. Bummer. I was okay with it because I would much rather sleep in and enjoy seeing the kids off to school.

I called Monday morning...still delayed. Call back later this afternoon. Now I was just anxious. What to do, what to do. I had already prepped the house, the kids, myself and Steve was already off work. We went to Nordstrom Last Chance for a shopping trip to take my mind off the baby. It worked for about an hour and then the anxiousness set in. Steve went to work and I kept busy at home. I called back in the afternoon. Still no room. Seriously? The kids got home from school and were equally disappointed to find us there and not be greeted by their grandparents.

I called again just before going to bed. The nurse once again told me they were full. Not what I wanted to hear. However, for the first time, the nurse explained why they were turning inductions away which would've been nice to know from the start. The nursery was full. It was at its legal limit as mandated by government standards. She went on to explain, women in labor could still come have their babies at the hospital, but if the baby required special attention in the nursery, the baby would have to be shipped to another hospital to receive care.

For this reason, they weren't taking any voluntary inductions. Makes sense. Then the statement that dashed my hopes of getting this baby out soon, "We're so behind, we still have inductions from last week we need to pull in and at this point, when we can start inducing again, we're not even going in order of original induction date, we're taking babies who've hit 41 weeks. I'm sorry, but you may not get in for awhile - your best bet is to go into labor on your own." My discouragement reached a new low.

I woke up Tuesday morning ready to go into labor. I went walking. I cleaned the house. Ate spicy food. Made an appointment with my doctor and had my membranes stripped. And then walked and walked some more. Just two hours after visiting the doctor, I started having sporadic contractions. I just kept moving, despite how uncomfortable I was. Sure enough the contractions became more painful and more regular and by the time we were putting kids to bed, we were preparing to go the hospital.

We made it to the hospital just after nine and by the time they started monitoring me, I was dilated to a 4 and my contractions were consistently 5 minutes apart. I've been in a labor a couple of times and I was confident we were ready to go. However the nurse wasn't so confident. She monitored us for a while. Had me walk the hallway and monitored me again. She decided to send us home. I was so confused. On my fifth child she was going to send me home when I was dilated and contracting. "Come back when you're in a little more pain. Your husband will be able to tell from your face when your in enough pain to come in. If it makes you feel better we just sent another girl home and her contractions were closer than yours." Discouraged once again. Not only was I discouraged, but now I was angry.

We got home just before midnight. I sat at the kitchen table with a tub of ice cream feeling every contraction. And then I went to bed to try and get rest. The problem with contracting that close together is resting is nearly impossible. So I labored through the night determined not to go back to the hospital until I knew without a doubt they wouldn't turn me away.

The next morning, I had another doctor appointment scheduled. I laid in bed watching the clock and monitoring contractions; they had slowed some but they were definitely getting harder to manage. I had put off getting ready long enough, so I got up and immediately felt serious pain. Made it to the bathroom to get a drink and had a hard time standing during the contractions. I just needed to make it to my doctor's office so he could hopefully get me into the hospital. Steve could see my pain and hurried to get ready. I realized getting ready wasn't going to happen for me because I couldn't handle the pain any longer. I was done. We hurried into the car and I told Steve to skip the doctor and go straight to the hospital. I then continued to yell at him to drive faster because the contractions were 2-3 minutes apart.

Of course we went through the whole admission process the night before and they discharged us. So we had to go through the process all over again. They immediately started monitoring me while still trying to check me in and ask me all sorts of questions I didn't want to answer. I was a seven. I had been in pain all night and I was ready for the epidural - I was begging for an epidural. They rushed me back to labor and delivery and the anesthesiologist was already in the room prepping her equipment. They kept asking me admission questions, I kept asking when I could get the epidural. I was a nine. The epidural gave me immediate relief on one side and after a little more juice I felt relief everywhere. I was ready for a little break, I was already exhausted and I hadn't even begun the hard part. Just as the epidural started to offer relief the nurse came in to check me and told me to get ready to push. Already? I wasn't quite ready, but in walked my doctor and my 20 minute rest was over.

I pushed a couple times and the doctor could see the baby was having a hard time dropping below my pelvis and his heart rate was dropping. I pushed and pushed. The doctor adjusted the baby and I tried pushing again. No luck. This doctor had delivered my last two babies without any problems and yet this one was in a funny position and was having troubles. He finally pulled out the vacuum to get him out. And with another two pushes he was here. Safe and sound (with a rather large goose egg on his head from the vacuum).

I immediately started to feel ill. The room was spinning and I felt nauseous. I thought for a minute I might lose my breakfast. My heart rate continued to drop to the low 40's. The room was loud - The baby was screaming and I couldn't keep my eyes open. They gave me oxygen and I fell asleep. I'm not sure how long I was out - I awoke to an empty room and Steve holding a crying baby. He informed me he had been crying since he came out. And after a while, he finally started to calm down. The room was quiet.

9 months of carrying this baby and he was here. Healthy and perfect. Oh happy day.

3 weeks...

He sleeps during the day - he wants snuggles in the middle of the night. Do you blame the kid? I take the late night shift - Steve's got morning duty. We're making it work. We're hoping he starts to figure out his days and nights.

Dealing with a newborn is complete trial and error. We make a hypothesis as to why he's not sleeping. We alter his environment some how and see if it did any good. Positive results = repeat actions. He wants to sleep without being bundled. Maybe we should bundle him with one arm out. Lets try a full swaddle. Turn on the sound machine. Turn off the sound machine. Turn off the lights before it's time to put him to bed. Try putting him to bed earlier. Don't give him the pacifier to go to bed. Maybe he still has a burp he's working to get out.

It's a complete guessing game when they're this young even when we've gone through this five times!

All the while Briggs is thinking - I'll sleep, I just want to be snuggled while I sleep. Is that too much to ask?

2 weeks...

He eats. He sleeps. He sleeps. Repeat.

I'm not sure we've had such a quiet baby before. He cried for 2 1/2 hours right after he was born and he had one more episode while we were in the hospital and we haven't really heard him cry since. It's amazing.

He loves the pacifier which is part of why he doesn't cry a whole lot.

He sleeps well. Better during the day than at night but we're working to change that. I've got the coveted midnight to 2am shift - then he typically settles back down and sleeps a good amount which gives me some rest.

His older sister adores him. She loves to hold him and is always willing to help.

He spits up a lot - after every feeding. (All my kids have been that way!) We go through a lot of burp cloths.

He enjoys long walks on the...road. I'm sure he would enjoy them at the beach as well. Really anywhere for that matter, he enjoys the stroller and we try to go walking most nights.

He's mastered being a 2 week-old baby.

Drop-off day is the hardest...

I'm convinced that I will probably never reach an age that I don't need my mom. I've always had a great respect for and relationship with my mom but the older I get, the more valuable it is. I'm in my thirties and a mother myself, which makes me appreciate her even more.

She came to visit just after Briggs was born to help us out and today we said goodbye and sent her back up to Idaho. Both of us were in tears as we embraced one last time at the airport. She said to me, "Don't worry, you've got this." And the rational side of me knew she was telling me the truth. But the emotional side of me replied back, "Yes, but I would much rather have you here helping me."

And it's the truth. I enjoy having her in my house. I like the company when I'm holding a baby at 11 o'clock at night and Steve has already gone to bed. I like having someone to help Cannon grab a drink when I'm nursing on the couch. I like that someone is awake and functioning when my kids get out of bed after I was up much of the night. I like having an adult conversation over lunch. I like having someone else around to hear Bennett's funny comments.

I love having her here - baby or no baby! I'm grateful she's able and willing to be a part of our life here; playing piano with Hallie, games with Hunter, puzzles with Bennett, reading to Cannon or holding Briggs. Not to mention the playful manner in which she pokes and jabs at Steve and he pokes and jabs right back. She's awesome. Which makes days like today especially hard.

Drop-off day is always the hardest. That was a long ride home from the airport!










Has it really been 2 1/2 years since Cannon was born and I had an equally hard time dropping her off at the airport? Where does time go?

Time stood still...

It seems as though we brought Briggs home from the hospital and time stood still for several days. I had no where I had to be, very little I had to do and I was up most of the night with him. I was in recovery mode and all the days have blended together in my mind and most of it is a blur.

And as much as time seems still - I look at pictures taken just a week ago and think how in the world has he changed so much? It's been less than two weeks. And yet his squishy-ness has started to fade and his eyes are more alert and he's definitely gaining a lot of weight. I suppose the reality is time is never still. Even when everything is a blur - time consistently marches on. I can lay in bed most of the morning (after a 5am bedtime) and yet I have a family living life beyond the walls of my bedroom and I want to be a part of it. And it's clear Briggs is not wasting any time growing and changing.



I'm glad the fog is slowly starting to lift and it feels good.

A peaceful moment...

A day after we got home from the hospital I was feeling a little overwhelmed. I sat on the couch, tired and sore and having a hard time getting comfortable while the whirlwind of life seemed to be going on around me with kids and meals and chores and everything else. I was still but everything around me was in constant motion. I needed more stillness.

That afternoon found me outside soaking in a peaceful moment while most of the family was inside resting/napping. The temperature was perfect - not too hot, not too cold and it was overcast. The orange blossoms were in full bloom and the sweet smell filled the air. The birds were singing simple tunes. And I sat holding a three-day old baby. The time passed slowly and an inner peace washed over me. It was exactly what I needed that afternoon as I struggled with the hormone shift my body was experiencing (and still is experiencing!).

After a while, Steve came out to join me and we enjoyed the moment together. And because we are never alone for very long - in no time the kids were outside with us; smothering us with their love. The peaceful moment turned into a moment of gratitude for the family we've created. Not usually a calm and quiet family, but definitely a loving family.