re-evaluating

via Quiltish who got it from Making Things Happen

Paul and I have been re-evaluating for about a month now where we are and where we want to go. It’s a frenzy of current home location, financial, occupational and spiritual re-evaluations.

Apparently we don’t like to take things one step at a time. We like to cram the entire steak in our mouth and chew on the entire thing at once instead of cutting it up first. Don’t judge, it works for us. Plus, every situation we are evaluating lends itself to another and then another and they are all so interconnected, splitting them up would do us no good.

Making a decision about our future location within this massive city has huge implications on our jobs, our church, Addison’s child care, our finances and our lifestyle.

Our finances have a huge impact on location, me staying at work or not, etc.

And so on and so on.

We haven’t been able to make a decision about anything yet because there are so many variables to each decision and there really is no rush.

What we did decide, however, was that we had to start planning now so that a year from now, or two years from now we aren’t cursing ourselves for not taking any action at all.

everyday defining moments

Last night I had one of those, “this is your life,” kind of moments.


I don’t find those moments daunting or bad. In fact, I rather enjoy them.

The only other one I remember vividly happened a few years ago (ok, ok, maybe 6-1/2 years ago) when I was driving to work. It was December, freezing and dark. I was a freshman in college and I was driving down Bryant St. listening to the new Death Cab for Cutie album when it hit me. “You are a college kid.” Everything about that moment for some reason personified what I had expected college to be like and I had arrived.

Last night after we had put Addison down for bed I had an urge to scrub down the kitchen. So in I went, bleaching counters, polishing marble, scrubbing the sink, dusting, loading the dishwasher, etc. I was a machine.

Side note: If you have a black shirt you’ve been wearing a lot lately and you are wondering if you look as good in it as you think, accidently dousing yourself in a bleach/water solution while wearing it and cleaning is probably a sign from God that in fact you don’t look very good in it. I’m not sure if it is ruined or not. If not, I’m taking that as a sign that it does look OK.

Paul had just gotten finished with folding the towels and was relaxing on the couch watching some television when I looked up from the sink and saw my reflection in the window. We we’re a family. We’d had dinner together, looked over our budget for the month, played together, put our daughter down for bed and then we went about doing what families do to prepare for the next day. I loved it.

Sometime last year, the girls in my bible class had a bible study and Tara, the one leading it, had asked us to think of three moments that defined who we were. Only three. I thought all day long about them and my first thoughts were things like my wedding day, graduating with my degree, etc.

But the longer I thought about it, even though those events and moments were big, they weren’t necessarily defining.

My marriage was not defined by the day that Paul and I said I do. Even though that meant that we were married, it had nothing to do with what marriage was about for us. What defined me us as a married couple was our experience in the Dominican Republic when we lost a baby and I had to have a D&C in a foreign developing country. We rocked as a married couple.

None of the actual experience had anything to do with the bible study actually, it was taken a different direction which was really cool but all of that was to say that what some people would consider everyday life or circumstantial moments are what define me.

The day we had Addison changed our lives forever. Yes, we became a family that day and it meant the world to us.

But last night, scrubbing my kitchen in my 97 year old house, while my husband watched some television and my daughter slept soundly in her room, we were blowing being a family right out of the water.

man on the moon moment?

How many blog posts started with "Osama bin Laden is dead" this morning? And you know all those people who didn't start their blogs with that line sure wanted to. They either thought it would made them look cool to not write about it or something but honestly, it happened and it was sort of a big deal.

Not earth shattering big like the people celebrating in the streets would have liked you to believe.

People celebrating in the streets. Chanting "U.S.A." and singing the national anthem at the top of their lungs outside of the White House.

Who are we? It was strange to watch, knowing it was happening within our borders. We don't celebrate like that. That's what we see on TV when other countries celebrate.

And Twitter. Twitter was all over the place. "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead", "Obama is announcing that he is coming around all 50 states to hi-five everyone", "Breaking News: Chuck Norris returns from Pakistan."

I told a friend of mine this morning that when the announcement was made that Obama would be addressing the nation and we found out that Tinker AFB had heightened it's security we flipped on the TV and everything in my living room felt very 1960's-ish. We we're in our pajamas and we we're about to listen to the President address the nation on national television. Was this going to be my "man on the moon" experience? Septemeber 11th was intense, and we watched television for hours at school but this felt a little different.

It might have been that man on the moon moment, if CNN, Fox News, MSNBC and every other network that has live capability hadn't beaten the story to death in the hour we were waiting for the "official" word. I understand needing to alert everyone that needed to know but by the time the calls got to those people, CNN had already told them and so had Twitter and Facebook.

Social media has changed the game.

new business cards

Today is my first day back at work and I'm having mixed emotions about it.

On one hand, I will only feed Addison 3 times a day instead of 6. I will only change 4 diapers instead of 8 to 10. Her upset fits won't seem so exhausting when I wasn't the one who had her all day when she wouldn't nap. Things feel familiar around here, my desk is clean and I know where everything is. It's kind of nice.

But on the other hand, there's somebody else reading to my baby everyday. There's somebody else singing to her and teaching her and watching her grow. There's someone else watching her talk and laugh and that sucks.

I did really well with all of this this morning. I was a bit rushed and in a frenzy and didn't really have much time to think about the fact that I wasn't at home. And it was day one, I knew it would start to hurt on day 6 or 7 more when it had set in. Everyone was glad to see me back, they brought in breakfast and everyone ooed and awed over me and the picture of the baby.

But then 1:00 pm hit and I hit a slump. I wasn't at home and more importantly I wasn't with Addi. I was done playing Interior Designer and was ready to go back to my real life, her.

I was given my new business cards today. The person giving them to me was either full of crap or knew that if they didn't make every single thing positive about being here that I'd get right up and leave. I'd never seen such a huge smile on someone's face over a 2" x 3" piece of paper. And one that looks much worse graphically than our previous ones might I add. Everyone else's had been handed out a month ago, I was the stragler. All I could think was, "Wipe that grin off your face, this isn't exciting."

Three years ago when I was given my first box of business cards, it WAS exciting and new and meant so many things. Like, I was an adult, and I had arrived.

But today, the box of 400 business cards snapped me out of my first day back frenzy. I was back in the office, working. Funny how a 2" x 3" piece of paper can make you feel a little trapped.

I know that things will settle down and we'll get in new routines and that much thought will have to go into any and every decision we make and chances are that I'll continue to work but right here, right now, with this tiny little piece of cardstock in my hand, I feel like this totally sucks.

February 3rd

I can barely remember what I had for dinner last night, but February 3rd and the events of the day will forever be burned into my memory. I never knew how much detail I could retain until it involved our daughter.

It was Tuesday, February 1st and Blizzard 2011 was rearing it's ugly head. I was stuck in my house with my in-laws and husband watching a ridiculous amount of TV and eating food we were not hungry for but we we're bored and there was nothing else to do. My mom was trapped in a hotel room five minutes from our house cooking meals for after our babies arrival. I was about to go finish packing for the hospital because we we're headed there at 5 am the next morning to be induced to have our first child. Nerves were high.

And then the phone rang. And it was canceled. Our daughter wasn't coming and I was crushed. I was stuck in a house, my mom was stuck in a hotel so close by, and our daughter wasn't coming.

I spent the afternoon crying in our room, embarrassed at how childish I probably appeared to my in-laws. I wanted to meet her more than anything and because of the blizzard, she wouldn't be coming.

I don't remember anything about that evening but I do remember waking up on the morning of the 2nd and laying in bed, depressed, again, because she wouldn't be coming. I got up for the day, went on about my business and tried to be happy. They'd rescheduled my appointment for Saturday, she was still going to be here but Saturday seemed like it would take forever to arrive. I didn't want to have her on Saturday, I wanted to have her on the 2nd.

As the afternoon wore on, I started feeling a little funny and thought that maybe my water had broken. It was definitely not the gush I had envisioned but something was going on. I put on fresh clothes, laid down for a nap and woke up to find that that something that had been going on was still happening. I got dressed, packed the hospital bag and we braved the snow covered roads to get to Labor and Delivery.

My water had not broken, they weren't really sure what was going on, it didn't seem to be anything of concern. But since I was there, and they had space, and if my doctor OK'd it, they'd go ahead and admit me since I was supposed to be there anyways. The doctor OK'd it and we we're going to have a baby.

Heart beating out of my chest.

I had come into the hospital wearing winter clothing, they put me in a hospital gown and wanted me to get down the hall to the room where I'd be delivering. I was in a hospital gown and black Ugg boots. I felt strange, unprepared, especially in my boots fearing the whole time my backside was exposed to the world. We got set up in our delivery room, Paul kissed my forehead, went to get my mom, some lunch and our hospital bag from the car.

It was happening.

They tried inducing my that afternoon but the first medication hadn't been placed properly, I wasn't progressing so they stopped, let me eat some greasy Pizza Hut pizza as a last meal and gave me an Ambien to sleep through the night. Paul slept next to me in a recliner and before we knew it, it was 5 am on Thursday morning and in less than twelve hours we'd be meeting our daughter.
   
We woke up slowly, lazily. Only to find the hours we're flying by. Paul spent some time walking around, grabbing himself some food and talking with me. I was dilating about a cm an hour and the rest of my family had shown up to see us.

Things we're going good. I was calm and relaxed. Baby was sounding good and my blood pressure was pretty outstanding.

It was about 2:30 in the afternoon and my nurse Krystal had come in to check on our progress only to find out we had gone from 6 cm to 9.5 cm in about 30 minutes. My doctor was informed, things we're to start being prepared, she was going to run across the street, come right back and we we're going to have a baby.

After about 30 minutes, my doctor's resident and my nurse decided to get me to do a practice push. It worked, things we're rolling and that practice push turned into real pushing. Pushing that was harder and more life sucking than anything I had ever imagined. I'd had an epidural, I wasn't supposed to be in so much pain and so tired. But I was. It was the hardest thing I've ever done and twice laid my head back and told the three people in the room that I couldn't do it. It was hard.

I remember being told, "this will be the push, if you push hard enough." I pushed with everything I had, felt the strangest sensations and heard the most beautiful cry in the entire world. I was exhausted, Paul was crying, my baby was crying and there were more nurses in my room than I knew what to do with. Everywhere I looked there was someone doing something. It was organized chaos and I couldn't focus on anything for more than two seconds.

And then everything slowed down. Like way down. And I was in the room, with my baby and my husband and my life was forever changed.

returning

Holy Hannah.

That's all I can think to write. It's about all that I can say to sum up the past two months and what I am feeling today.

I really have no idea what to say.
No, I have a thousand things to say, but nothing that runs together in a coherent blog post. It's looking a little something like this in my head right now:

I had a baby. I love her more than anything in the world. I am back at work today. I wish I was eating some buffalo hot wings. We should have friends over for dinner on the patio soon but not for hot wings. I need to finish painting Addion's wooden chair. I have a dentist appointment next week and I don't think I've flossed since November. Seriously, Paul and I made the most beautiful baby (while looking at her photo of course). 581 blog posts to read. Seriously?! 581? Did I fall off the face of the earth or what?

See. Chaos.

settling in...sort of

We're settling in as a family of 3 around here and it is taking a lot of work! Sorry for the lack of posts, I'm working on two big ones and one of them is a doozy.

Things I've learned in the last 25 days:
1. Don't get dressed until you're sure the kid is done spitting up.
2. You will have sympathy pains for your baby (i.e. I have developed reflux).
3. There is nothing better than looking at your baby and knowing how much they already love you.
4. That without music, days can be sad.
5. To be flexible (OK so I haven't learned this yet, but I'm working on it).
6. That babies are flexible.
7. That as soon as you have a baby, you will immediately lose all knowledge of how to care for a kid and you'll want your mommy.
8. That the Moby Wrap is the most valuable thing that we own right now, besides her of course.
9. Shit happens (I'm being literal here...) over and over again and you should buy stock in diaper companies.
10. And finally, that no matter how much you think you're going to love your baby, you can multiply it by 200 and still not even be close to what you will really feel. And you'll never understand it until it happens. I think that's something special that God gives only to mothers and fathers.

Addison Cole

Our daughter has arrived! 

Addison Cole was born almost two weeks ago on February 3, 2011 at 3:26 pm. She weighed in at 6 lbs 1 oz and was 19" long. 

She was (and is) absolutely perfect and both Paul and I are quite smitten.

Paul's parents babysat for us last night and we went out for our first dinner alone, to celebrate baby and a late Valentine's Day. We came in the door and we're both talking and she stirred and started looking for us. Talk about making our hearts melt.

Chicago L, Red Line. Next stop? Addison.

Our kid has gotten some really awesome gifts.

I mean, tons of them. Store bought, hand made, everything in between. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little jealous.

Today we got an exceptionally thoughtful gift. Paul's co-worker, Sarah, who is having her first baby just a week or two after us, gave us this with a red skirt and pair of pants:

Addison is an actual stop on the Red Line for the L in Chicago (blue line too, but the red line takes you to Wrigleyville).

I'm sorry, but if you know anything about Paul and I, you know how unbelievably appropriate this is. Chicago, kiddo's name, public transit. Check, check and check.

And I guess that it doesn't hurt that just a few blocks away from this station you come to the corner of Clark & Addison, a.k.a. the entrance to Wrigley Field. Last week a product representative visiting my office that was here to show us some new fabrics made a joke about us naming a future son Clark. Would be quite clever, no?

Luckily, Paul likes the Cubs, but doesn't love them.

this morning

Phone in purse? Check.

Wallet? Check.

Keys? Check.

Teeth brushed? Check.

Snack for the day? In my purse.

Coat on.

Work papers grabbed.

Door locked.

Car unlocked.

Down the porch stairs.

Thought in my head, "my feet are surprisingly warm this morning for being in flats."

Looked down and saw these:

And although very comfortable and my favorite shade of pink, way inappropriate for work footwear. They really didn't even coordinate remotely with what I had put on for the day.

Up the stairs. Door unlocked. 5 minute search for some suitable shoes and then my feet we're freezing.