Photo Every Hour: October 21st

So when I take the pictures for these posts, I make a concerted effort to take each picture on the hour, every hour (with the help of a reminder on my phone!). I want these posts to be as "real" as possible, so I usually don't (intentionally) delay my 9:00 photo until 9:15 because it'll be a nicer/prettier/happier photo. That being said, sometimes life happens and I just can't pull off the "on the hour" photo. If the timing of when I actually took the photos for this post is any indication, delayed photos are going to be happening a lot more frequently with three kids. Oh well--something is better than nothing, right?

7:00 (Taken at 7:20) My morning wake up call (To be fair, this one was intentionally delayed to avoid an awkward nursing photo and show off my sweet boy's cute face)

8:00 (Taken at 8:02) And just like that, it's already nap time

9:00 (Taken at 9:10) Not letting three kids slow us down and heading out for some Halloween fun

10:00 (Taken at 9:42) Pumpkin painting fun! (Another "intentional" off-time photo; Connor was getting ready to nurse and I figured a picture of these two would be more fun than a random nursing photo)

11:00 (Taken at 11:12) Enjoying some of the coloring pages we brought home from the Halloween party

12:00 (Taken at 12:25) Being brave and heading out of the house in lieu of nap time

1:00 (Taken at 1:11) Enjoying some college football!

2:00 (Taken at 1:53) Go Augie Go! (I took this one a little early because of the nicely staged field position #nerd)

3:00 (Taken at 2:57) Because you can't actually expect a four-year old and two-year old to sit through an entire football game

4:00 (Taken at 4:12) When you spend the afternoon at a football game and realize you don't have dinner plans, the internet and 30-minute chili comes to the rescue!

5:00 (Taken at 5:13) Dinner success: chili, cornbread, and butternut squash

6:00 (Taken at 6:22) Proof that Darrell pulls his weight on diaper duty

7:00 (Taken at 7:20) This is what "calming down" for bedtime looks like at our house #nowondertheydontfallasleepeasily

8:00 (Taken at 8:22) At least one of them went to bed pretty easily...

9:00 (Taken at 10:14 because sometimes I just completely forget) Nothing says "adulating" like spending a quiet evening doing dishes

10:00 (Taken at 10:15) Enjoying the evening a little bit more with some blogging and wine

Bedtime!

Connor: One Month!

I almost don't want to write this post because I don't know how I can accurately report on Connor's first month of life without fear of jinxing how awesome it's been. Because seriously, he has been a major rock star. I don't know if he knew that this mama was due for an "easy" baby or if Darrell and I (and his crazy older brothers) have done something to encourage his chill demeanor--but whatever it is, I hope it sticks. In spite of my jinxing it by bragging it up.

I swear this was the best photo we had... Although I might have used it even if it wasn't because I think it is just hysterical!

Height/Weight: Due to Connor's laid back "I'll do things on my own terms" personality (more on that later), we needed to have a weight check at three weeks, at which point he was 10lbs, 8oz. So I'm guessing that by a month old he was about eleven pounds. I'm also guessing that he is close to or just over 22 inches; even though that's technically how long he was at birth, at his discharge appointment (three days old) the nurse measured him at 21 inches, and then 21.5 inches at two weeks, so we're guessing that his height at birth was not measured correctly.

Wearing: We squeezed him into newborn diapers at the hospital because that's what they provided us with, but it's been all size one diapers since we got home. And we seriously feel like he's starting to get snug in them, which is a little problematic because we still have two more boxes to use. He's also been wearing exclusively 0-3 and 3 month clothing; we haven't really bothered with newborn clothing for any of our boys.

Eating: Like a champ. I don't know if it's something with how my body lets down its milk or something to do with the fact that I have big babies who have latched on well from the start, but I have never (knock on wood) had a kid who has those 20-minute (or longer!) nursing sessions. Even in the hospital Connor rarely ate for more than fifteen minutes, and since getting home he's usually done in ten minutes or less. I even met with a lactation consultant when he was just over two weeks old (I was a little concerned that our pediatrician wanted to do a follow-up weight check at three weeks), and according to their fancy scales that allow you to measure breastfeeding, he put away nearly three ounces in seven minutes. Suffice to say he likes his milk and has no problem getting it.

Sleeping: Is it repetitive to say "like a champ" here too? I'm sure there is some correlation between his eating and sleeping, although I feel like William and Garrett were also good eaters, but not nearly as good of sleepers. For the first three weeks, we were periodically needing to wake him up to make sure he was eating at least every three hours during the day and four hours at night. Since he "passed" his weight check at three weeks, we've increased that to four hours during the day and five hours at night, and there have still been a few times where we've needed to wake him (yes, that's right, at a month old we've gotten five hour stretches of nighttime sleep. Now you understand why I'm terrified of jinxing things). He's not perfect, of course, and doesn't always take the best naps and tends to cluster feed a little in the evening, but as long as we keep getting awesome sleep at night (and as long as he's healthy, of course!), I'm not going to complain. He does have a tendency to not burp for me, especially at night, so inevitably he starts to fuss shortly after I put him back in his crib (which is where he--and all of our boys--have slept since their first day at home), but Darrell can usually get him settled back down in ten minutes or less.

New Stuff: Well, he's a month old, so he doesn't really do anything yet (a concept his brothers are still having a hard time grasping. They love him to pieces--almost literally at times--anyway though). However, he has exhibited some decent head strength during tummy time, and precisely on his one-month birthday he was baptized. So that counts for something. And by virtue of having two older brothers (and a slightly stir-crazy mom) we've been out and about plenty since he was born. I did get a few looks when I had him at SkyZone (a trampoline park) at four days old, but whatever (bear in mind I wasn't solo; Darrell was still on paternity leave. I haven't been crazy enough to attempt a place like that on my own yet).

As I've mentioned a few times already, Connor has been a seriously chill baby. We've said that William and Garrett combined have cried more than Connor has in the past month, and while it's been in jest, it might actually be true. Of course, it is possible to have too much of a good thing, and he's already demonstrated that he may take his laid-back personality a little too far. In the hospital, they wanted him to eat every two to three hours, and he was just not interested in following those guidelines. There were multiple times where he'd get to five hours between feedings, at which point the nurses started to get nervous (at six hours they have to run a test on his blood sugar), so they tried everything to get him to eat. I'm talking multiple sets of hands all over Connor's head and my breasts, sugar water on my nipple (TMI? Sorry) to make it more "appealing", and I don't even remember what else. Nothing worked. But every time, ten or fifteen minutes before that six hour mark, he'd latch right on--no gimmicks or tricks needed--and eat without any issue. Go figure. Additionally, he pooped three times the day he was born, twice the following morning, and then decided he was done. So when we went in for his post-discharge appointment, he hadn't pooped in 48 hours. Our pediatrician made us do a blood draw to test his bilirubin (jaundice), and then told us we had to call back first thing the following morning if he hadn't pooped by then. And what do you know--less than an hour after the appointment he had a massive blowout. Of course. Lastly (for now...), he also decided to put on weight on his own terms. At birth he was 9lbs 8oz, and at his four-day visit he was 9lbs 5oz. No issue there. But at his two-week appointment he was only 9lbs 11oz, a gain of six ounces in eleven days, when our pediatrician would like to see a gain of an ounce per day. So we had to schedule an appointment for the following week to get his weight checked again and determine if there was possibly a growth issue--and at that appointment he was 10lbs 8oz, a gain of 13oz in seven days. Which naturally was more than okay. So yes--we've been loving his chill demeanor, but we're not loving that it also means that he has a tendency to do things on his own timeline. But I guess he has to have a fault somewhere--and he is Darrell's son, after all, so he was bound to have some stubbornness in his blood. But we love him to pieces and it's already hard to imagine life without  him in it!

Connor’s Birth Story

If you’ve been reading this blog for any period of time (or have ever hung out with me in person), you’ve surely heard about the ridiculous ice storm William decided to be born during and the unexpectedly quick arrival Garrett chose to make. We were hoping Connor (aka BG3) would be a relatively normal and drama-free labor and delivery, although we joked that the “excitement” this time around would probably end up being something where I went into labor and then couldn’t get ahold of Darrell to get home from work. As it turns out, it’s a very good thing that didn’t end up being the case, because once Connor decided to come, he came in a hurry. And despite our best intentions to not make the same “mistake” twice, we discovered that it was possible for labor and delivery to go more quickly (and chaotically!) than it had with Garrett.

On Thursday the 14th, I had my weekly check-up with my OB. I was 41 weeks and 4 days, and feeling more than ready to have the baby; in fact, I’d been telling people that I assumed my doctor would schedule my induction for the following day (and was kind of hoping that he would). However, he was willing to give my body an extra day to go into labor on its own, and scheduled the induction for Saturday, although he candidly told me that he didn’t expect me to make it that long. Even though I was dilated to 3cm (like I had been with Garrett), I tried not to get my hopes up and mentally prepared myself to be pregnant for at least 24 more hours.

The rest of the day was uneventful and I felt perfectly normal. Darrell and I briefly debated having the boys stay at my parent’s house overnight, but ultimately decided that since I hadn’t been having contractions and since my parents would have them for at least two nights while we were in the hospital that we would keep them at home Thursday night, but plan on them staying with my parents starting Friday night. Well, sure enough, not more than ten minutes after we put the boys to bed (around 8:00), I started having contractions. However, I’d been having Braxton-Hicks pretty consistently for the weeks leading up to (and past) my due date, and the contractions weren’t painful in the least, so I didn’t say anything right away because I wasn’t convinced I was actually in labor. Around 10:00, I finally told Darrell that I was pretty sure I’d been having contractions, but I’d only had six or seven in those two hours and was having no issue walking/talking through them, so I didn’t think it was anything major. We considered calling my parents to give them a heads up, but decided it wasn’t worth putting them on alert for what very likely could be a false alarm. We did, however, decide to pack all our stuff in the van, because we figured if we didn’t end up going in that night we’d likely be going in the next day, or Saturday at the latest. Then, around 10:30, we headed to bed, figuring that we might as well get whatever sleep we could (ironically, Darrell’s last words to me were “I don’t know how you expect me to sleep when you just told me that you *might* be in labor” and I reassured him that if I feel asleep then he should also sleep without having anything to worry about).

A little before 11:45 I woke up feeling like I had to go to the bathroom, which at that point in my pregnancy was nothing unusual. However, the pain and discomfort I was having while trying to go was definitely new. I’ll admit that I wasn’t fully awake and aware of what was going on (which Darrell still thinks is just ludicrous, given how far overdue I was), and I probably sat in the bathroom for at least five minutes trying to go and figure out why it was so painful. In fact, when I first called to Darrell telling him to call my folks to come over to the house, I still wasn’t associating the pain as being labor pains, but it was bad enough I wanted to go in to the hospital anyway (in my defense, the pain was pretty much entirely in my bottom area, not in my abdominal area, which is why I initially didn’t think they were contractions). Darrell was a little groggy and slow-moving at first, but by this point I was out of the bathroom and it took just one look at me for him to realize how serious I was. So at 11:55, he made the (first) call to my parents (who thankfully answered right away).

After that, things get a little foggy for me. I know I made Darrell help me change out of my nightgown and into athletic shorts and a tank top (I was concerned about being immodest in my slightly too short nightgown) and I know we made very slow progress out to and into the car, despite Darrell’s best efforts to make me move quickly, especially in between the contractions (although candidly, we weren't exactly dealing with a lot of "in between" time). At some point Darrell called my parents again to make sure someone was on their way, because he was going to go get a neighbor if they weren't, but my dad assured us that my mom was coming. So Darrell called her (while we were sitting in the car in the street), found out she was only five blocks from the house, and promptly left, knowing she'd be at the house soon (and the boys were sleeping, so it made no difference to them). To put the next part of the story into perspective, that phone call happened at 12:10, and (spoiler!) Connor was born at 12:25.

The drive to the hospital was ridiculously uncomfortable for me (probably because I was basically sitting on Connor's head), but thankfully pretty short (we only live 3.5 miles from the hospital, and because of the time of night we had the right of way on pretty much all the traffic signals so we didn't have to wait for other cars. And Darrell was speeding, of course). We pulled up to the ER entrance of the hospital and Darrell immediately ran in to get me a wheelchair. The gal at the front desk tried to get our information to get us registered, but I'm pretty sure the only thing Darrell said to her was "my wife is in labor" before he ran back outside. A security guard (casually) came out to the car to help Darrell, and when I had a contraction while getting out of the car I grabbed on to his arm. At that point I think he realized the urgency of the situation (apparently his eyes got huge), and when we got back inside the receptionist tried again to get our information, but I had another contraction and said screamed that I needed to push, at which point she jumped on the phone and told labor and delivery that they needed to send a nurse our wayimmediately (to the defense of the ER staff, they probably get the "I'm in labor" statement frequently and the women are usually not nearly as progressed as I was. In fact, the labor and delivery nurses told us later they'd had a pregnant woman come in a few hours prior to us dealing with labor pains, but it ended up being false labor. So I don't blame the ER for not immediately treating the situation as urgent. We're just grateful they let us leave the van outside the ER entrance--engine running and doors open--until Darrell was able to get back downstairs after Connor was born). At one point I tried to climb out of the wheelchair during a contraction (while Darrell was running through the hospital, mind you) because I just couldn't bear sitting, so the security guard had to help hold me in the wheelchair. We met the labor and delivery nurse in the elevator and she tried to joke with Darrell about the fact that he had gotten me a "bad" wheelchair (the one she had was quite a bit bigger, but there was no way I was going to move), but once she watched me have a contraction she dropped her casual banter and kicked it into gear. In fact, as we were running into labor and delivery, the receptionist there also tried to get our information to get us checked in, and this time the nurse was the one who shouted at her "no time!" and directed us into the room while also shouting for the other nurses and OBGYN on the floor to get into the room.

The next few minutes are a blur. I know my water broke as I was getting out of the wheelchair, and Darrell and the nurse were helping me into the bed while simultaneously getting my shorts off so I would be ready to deliver. A nurse did check me to see what my progress was, and she declared that my cervix was "gone" (aka completely dilated and fully effaced). At 12:22, they finally got us registered in the system because Darrell was stationary long enough to answer their questions regarding my name and other vitals (although we didn't get the "consent to treat" paperwork signed until after Connor was born. Whoops). I remember the on-call OB commanding me to make eye contact with her while she gave me instructions about when and how to push, and I know I was grateful that I was no longer sitting and that someone was actually telling me what to do and giving me the okay to push (and for the record, I didn't once ask for an epidural or anything. I was pretty aware before we even got to the hospital that I was past that point. I was just so glad to be delivering at the hospital that I didn't really care about the pain). At some point one of the nurses called my OB, and he was given the message that his patient was here and she was crowning (shockingly, he didn't make it in time for the delivery, although he was there pretty shortly after the birth, which was impressive). And then, a mere three or four contractions after we made it into the birthing room, Connor was born.

It was wild, it was crazy, and it was certainly chaotic, but that's our story and I kind of love it. Just like I love this sweet little face...

And my sweet little family