It Wasn't Me

Saturday was NOT a good day. 

I was still mourning my mother's departure from the day before, wondering how on earth we were going to manage without her. 

I fed the girls pancakes while Ben snoozed in the recliner.  He had returned from the states earlier in the week.  Apparently he was tired.... maybe delayed jet lag??  So I let him off the hook.

I had an appointment at noon to get my nails done (a rare treat) and then I was going to go do some grocery shopping on my own.  Grocery shopping without kids = heaven.  

I figured I could leave Ben in charge for a couple of hours.  He was still snoozing in the recliner when I left... I gave him some instructions about feeding the baby, he indicated in his comatose state that he understood, and I was off!   

Usually Ben does a decent job with the kids while I'm away, which was why I wasn't too worried about leaving him.  But something was seriously off with Ben that day.  He continued sleeping in the recliner for the ENTIRE TIME I was gone.

When I got home it was like a scene from Lord of the Flies (to use Ben's reference).  It was 3 pm, the girls were still in their pjs, they were camped out in front of the tv, breakfast dishes were exactly where I had left them, the house was a mess, and to boot, apparently Caroline had taken a crayon to the wall with a mean sort of vengeance.  

Purple crayon was found everywhere... in the baby's room, in the play room, in the hallway, and funny enough (although I was not laughing in the least bit), all over the wall behind the recliner where Daddy was snoring as this all went down.  

I was on the verge of tears.  Em said to me, "I told her Mommy and Daddy would be mad and she said, 'No they won't!'" I could just hear her defiant, mischievous little voice.

So, it's needless to say how we spent the rest of our Saturday, but what put a smile on my face through this all, was a piece of notebook paper I found propped up on one of the walls that had had received the brunt of Caroline's "artistic expression."    

Apparently, Em was too nervous about waking up Dad to inform him of Caroline's misdeeds.  So she did the next best thing she could think of.  She wrote a note clearing herself of all culpability. As if there were any question as to which child did it.  But, I guess according to Em, you can never play it too safe.

  

Nana

Moms are the best.  That's why everyone should live within two miles of theirs.  Of course, this isn't my situation.  But it's times like these, with a new baby and a young family, when I really wish it was.

My mom wasn't going to come out after the baby was born.  I told her it was too far and too expensive to come all that way.  Ben and I could manage fine on our own.  But as the pregnancy progressed I had a change of heart.  I knew I wanted my mom!  There was no gettin' around it.

So, I convinced her to come out (it didn't take much).  And I'm SO glad I did.

I don't know where my mom gets all her energy.  During her ten day stay the kitchen was clean, the floors were mopped, the girls were fed, dressed, and entertained, all before noon and without a hair out of place. She makes it seem so effortless. It's both awe-inspiring and slightly annoying at the same time.  I didn't have to do anything.  I just got to feed, cuddle, and sleep with my baby boy.  Mom took care of everything else. 

 I loved having a monopoly on her... she had no other distractions besides me and the kids.  She couldn't even text or call anyone on her cell phone.  Ha!

The best part of having my mom here though was the company.  It's so nice to have another adult in the house to talk with, to confer with, to laugh with, and to seek reassurance from.  It was really hard to see her go.  Maybe I can hire a German frau to be my surrogate mom and move in with us.  

Every time Nana told Em to pick a game out, she picked Twister without fail.  We haven't  played Twister since we were in Poland, so I don't know what got into her head.  But any Nana who willingly plays Twister with their grandkids is a heck of a Nana.

Bonding with James.  

And one day we even ventured out to the nearby Black Forest.  It was awesome. 

We visited a town called Triberg 

Perusing the shops of hand carved wooden items.  We scored.

Taking in the local flavor at a restaurant for lunch

Notice the animal hanging on the wall

Nothing whets the appetite like a stuffed dead boar's head

Shopping for hand carved wooden cuckoo clocks, a regional specialty.  Mom even bought one!

And a very small hike into the Black Forest took us to this waterfall

Mom chatting it up with an Indian in the Black Forest.  She'll make conversation with anyone.

We also went to our ward's 24th of July celebration.  The smores were a hit.

And to the nearby Ludwigsburg Palace.  I love this place.  

Yes, that is a storm coming, and yes, we got caught in it.

Seven

Last week marked 7 years since Benny Boy and I entered into "marital bliss."  And while it hasn't all been blissful, there isn't anyone else in the whole world with whom I'd rather share the ups and downs of life.

Seven years.  It doesn't sound like that long of a time, does it?  And yet it has been the most eventful years of my life.

Never taking ourselves too seriously

Let's do the numbers:

7 years=

2 combat deployments

3 children

4 funerals (one father, one grandmother, and two grandfathers)

7 moves

3 states, 2 countries, 4 time zones

2 master's degrees

300 (give or take) Saturday mornings with banana pancakes (about the only consistent thing in our seven years together).

Mexico, where Ben and I met.  As you can see, he was a total stud and a lady's man.  All the girls there (including me) had crushes on him

Ben training me in the fine art of firing artillery

Don't ask

On top of the "Eiffel Tower" in Las Vegas where Ben proposed

Time to Say Good-bye... after three weeks of proposing to me, Ben deployed to Iraq for 8 months.

Celebrating at a "biergarten" sans le beer.  Our desserts were a little bigger than we anticipated.

   And here we are seven years later... with a few more wrinkles and a few more pounds, but happier than ever... 

Can't wait to see what the next seven years together bring

Smitten

 

We're all pretty much smitten around here

 

 

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The Story

Where do I begin? 

First a few words about the birth. 

The actual labor and delivery I would not wish upon my worst enemy. Thoughts such as, "I am going to DIE" and "I am NEVER doing this again" ran through my mind. And then it's strange. I don't know if its the hormones or the Holy Ghost, but with a little time and chance for reflection, I look back on the whole experience with reverence and awe... almost as if it were sacred. And I think, "Yeah, I could probably do that again."

So here's the story. If you don't want to read all of it, just skip down to the labor part. You'll get a few good laughs.

Because of our not so fun last birth experience, Ben and I had been praying that I could go into labor on my own, without having to be medically induced. Having been overdue with both girls, I was induced both times and wound up with an emergency c-section with Caroline. So you can imagine how thrilled and excited we were on Tuesday, when at 39 weeks and two days, I started to have natural labor pains!

I had mild ones all through Monday night but once I got up Tuesday and started the day, they disappeared. I took the girls to the pool with some other friends from RB. We picnicked and swam and had a great time even though it was pretty cold. This is Germany. I think I've finally come to terms with it.

Taken July 2, the same day Baby Brother was born

About 6:00 I went to the commissary and the contractions came back. I met Ben back at home, started frying some bacon for BLT's and then had to go lay down with the bacon still on the skillet because I just didn't feel well. Ben started timing them, they were five minutes apart and grew stronger. I started packing a bag and called our upstairs neighbor to come stay with the girls. Ben gave me a blessing and we were off to the German hospital just down he street shortly after 9:00. I was in pain, but excited. 

Imagine our dismay when we arrived at the l&d unit and they told us they were at full capacity and had no rooms available! They scrambled to find room for us. I sat in the waiting room for close to a half an hour as the contractions became stronger and closer together.

Finally they found space for us. The birthing room was very nice... I wish I had a picture to show you. It was much more of an intimate setting than my experiences in the states. There weren't a lot of machines or medical equipment. The lights were dim, it was quiet, there were all sorts of contraptions like birthing balls, a big bathtub, different stools, etc. I wound up on this big saucer like throne, I guess is the best way to describe it, and that's where the miracle took place.

About two and a half hours after our arrival at the hospital, a 9 lb. 6 oz. baby boy was born at 11:45 p.m.

The actual labor and delivery was complete HELL. I went in with lots of confidence, thinking I was all that because I had read a book on hypnobirthing and had practiced all of these relaxation and breathing techniques to get me through the contractions. These techniques were supposed to bring about a natural, calm, and "gentle" birth. Well, they went right out the window along with my dignity and pride. My experience was the ANTITHESIS of calm, gentle or relaxing. I know it's birth, but I was seriously extra pathetic. There was much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. I discovered my vocal cord capacity to be impressively deafening. I BEGGED for an epidural, and they kept telling me the anesthesiologist was very busy but would get there ASAP. When he finally arrived I was already fully dilated. He was still willing to administer it, but my body was in such turmoil, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to sit still long enough so I declined. It was too late and I kind of panicked when I realized I would be doing this on my own. 

Let me tell you I felt every ounce of pain and sensation that accompanies delivering a 9 lb.+ baby

Of course faithful Benny Boy was by my side the entire time. He has his own little battle scar to prove it. I may or may not have mauled him.

These are just a few of the things I remember yelling:

I AM GOING TO DIE!!!

HELP ME!!!

WHERE IS THE BABY?!? GET HIM OUT!!! (To which they replied, "no that's your job. You have to get him out.")

WHY ISN'T HE HERE YET?!?

HE'S STUCK!!!

The midwife and doctor were trying their best to help me, but between them and Benny Boy yelling instructions at me, I couldn't process it all. Especially since they were using English as a second language. It just didn't translate right.

When he finally did come relief and exhaustion enveloped me, and of course I lived to tell about it.
And now we're home and happy and I can't believe how fast the body can bounce back after something like that. So without further ado, here are pics of the little guy.

It's July, the hospital has no a/c, and the Germans saw fit to wrap him like this. No wonder he's making that face. BTW, that was my exact expression during labor

Em has been beyond excited about having a little brother. I feel like she's sharing in some of my euphoria,

Getting ready to go home

So happy to be home

Tuckered out Dad. He's been Superman the past week

Oh, and you want a name, right? Ha, well too bad. We've decided about three different times now and it's still up in the air. Who knew it would be so hard?

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