Pummeled

About a week before Echo was born, I wrote the following in a post:

 "I feel pretty accomplished when I can get three square meals on the table, [the dishes washed], a load of laundry done, and a path through the toys cleared in one day. But that doesn't get you "ahead" anywhere. I'm barely holding back the tide and I'm afraid once the baby comes, I'm going to get pummeled."

Well, folks, it's true. That about sums up how I feel lately. Pummeled.

The house is a wreck. I haven't done my dishes tonight or picked up any of the toys. I didn't do a single load of laundry today. I slept through breakfast, (we got home at 3AM from a trip, and the baby was up by 7-ish, so I don't hold it against myself too much), I don't remember if the girls really had a lunch, and a last minute trail ride foiled dinner plans, so the girls ate cereal.

In the time I spent tonight "unwinding" from the day, I could've easily done two loads of laundry, washed the dishes, AND picked up the living room. Or balanced my checkbook, written out the bills for next month, entered receipts for the business, mended something from my Mend Pile Mountain, edited the website, exercised, or tackled any one of the projects that have been mentally and emotionally eating me alive. But I didn't. Instead I just mulled over things that I know I need to do, but just don't ever seem to do them. I have so many ideas of how I want to clean, organize, decorate, and yet no idea/motivation of where to begin. I decide on one area to work on, only to find out there are "prerequisites" before I can really do them, so they are left undone altogether.

To make matters worse, I'm addicted to staying up late. I love sleep! I WANT to sleep, NEED to sleep, SHOULD sleep, and yet I still find myself puttering away those nighttime hours, strictly because they are my own. No interruptions (for the most part), silent, bliss when I can just be ME. I know it creates a vicious cycle, because I will be unproductive and irritable tomorrow, longing for a few minutes alone, which I know doesn't come until everyone else is asleep again. But still I do it.

It's a humbling and frightening realization that being responsible/a mom/a wife/etc is harder than you ever imagined. I had great plans and expectations of how I would be an awesome mom, a cherished wife, have a cute home, and still have time to cook, clean, and create like a super hero. And if I didn't finish everything I was supposed to that day, I wouldn't go to bed until I did. Because super heroes don't need sleep, either.  

I don't mean to be a negative, depressed, woe is me, dark cloud of despair kind of person. I know it never solves anything. I really do have so many things to be grateful for. And here are just four of them.

I guess I relieved a little guilt tonight, being late and all, because after 2+ months, I finally wrote a blog post.

Of Mice and Rattlesnake Guts

Last Monday, we returned home from a family trip to Idaho, which I may or may not blog about. I make no promises, therefore I have no guilt. Anyway, upon arriving home, I was greeted by several unpleasant things. One being a very large, still-soaking wet dog piddle-puddle on my carpet. How it got there, and how it was still so wet, remains an unsolved mystery since I beat ALL the dogs into the house. The second unpleasant surprise was a certain dead smell I encountered in my kitchen, around the area of my stove. We've concluded that it is a dead mouse in our wall. There is a vent behind my stove into the garage and it must be somewhere in that vicinity because no amount of poking or prodding under the stove or in the vent has been successful in producing the mouse. The smell has gotten better with time, except when the heat from the stove heats up the wall. Any suggestions on solving my problem are welcome.

Now on to the second half of my title, which no doubt got your attention. The other day, Shane killed a very large rattlesnake at the barn. It had 13 buttons on his tail, but you can tell there were more than that; they had just worn away. I haven't seen a rattler that big in quite a while.

Exhibit A: 13-button rattler

Anyway, that was last Wednesday. This past Sunday, we went to visit Shane's family. Somehow that rattlesnake had gotten hauled down from the barn area to their yard and had ripened horrifically over the next four hot, summer days. We did not notice this little factoid until all the dogs had proceeded to roll all over in it, and smear the most putrid rotten-gut stench all over into their coats. I put my foot down when it came time to load up and go home, since we had all ridden in the van. There was NO WAY I was letting those dogs sit in MY van. I told Shane they could stay at the barn for a few days until the scent wore off. That was all good and fine until Shane opened the back of the van for something and quick as a whistle, Sadie jumped in. Shane hauled her out, but the damage was done. We drove all the way home with the windows down and the AC on full blast, but it was no use. The girls were both sitting in the very back and Rain kept telling me the whole way home, "Oooh yuck! I smell rattlesnake!" 

So there you have it--lessons learned. Febreeze, anyone?

Mesa - Two years old!



Petting the first foal of the season.

Mesa turned 2 on May 1st. Wow! We had a family baby blessing and dinner in Cane Beds that day, so I didn't have a cake ready for Mesa yet. Hopefully, I can remedy that before May is over. But I think she would forgive me if I don't. We went to her Well-Baby Check up last week and thankfully she didn't have to have any shots. (We are good until she's four--yay!). She had woke up with a slight fever that morning so she was a little grumpy at the appointment. When they were trying to test her blood pressure (or something) she sat still for a moment and then kept telling me, "I'm done!" But she was a good sport and she is growing incredibly.

Her Stats:

Height: 3ft 1.5in (37.5")       Percentile: OFF THE CHART!

Weight: 35 lbs                    Percentile: OFF THE CHART!

Just for fun, Dr. Bowman projected her height and weight numbers as a three-year-old. She is in the 75th percentile for height and weight. That means she is bigger than 75% of all other 3yo children! and she just turned 2! The Dr. wasn't too worried because she is consistent for height and weight. She's just a big girl, but she is balanced.

It's been a tradition in my family to do inkprints of our hands and feet on our birthday every year. It was a highlight growing up, so I've continued with my children. We did Mesa's hand and feet prints and of course Rain had to do it too, so here is a snapshot of Mesa and Rain's prints next to each other, done on the same day. Can you tell which print belongs to each girl?

Rain's is on the left, Mesa's on the right



Mesa is tough, caring, and obedient. She is also very strong-willed, loves her daddy, and loves cooking with mom. She always asks to sit on the potty, but as soon as you get her on it, diapered or not, she says she's done. One of these days I'm just going to grit my teeth and potty-train her. I don't think it will take much. She already has a pretty good handle on the concept.

Chillin' with Daddy

She loves singing, Sleeping Beauty, playing Ring-Around the-Rosies, Follow-the-Leader, and Fee-Fi-Fum (Which means riding on mom's back like a cowgirl or dinosaur or something). She likes to say the prayers, read scriptures, and loves her nursery leader, Sis. Chamberlain. She literally will not let Shane leave until she gets there. Mesa loves to eat her food, and when she's done, she'll usually finish Rain's plate as well.

Reading books with Rain

When her feelings are hurt or she just woke up, she wants to be held constantly, which is challenging because I am usually feeding the baby, holding the baby, or cooking/cleaning when those time arise. Also, refer back to her height and weight, and you'll see why I don't hold up very long lugging her around.

Sleeping peacefully.
One of my favorite things to do before I go to bed is look at each girl sleeping.

She just recently decided she doesn't like the door closed at night and insists on "Rock-a-baby" at naptime and bedtime. And she does many things in multiples: she has to have three binkies at bedtime, or hold 2-3 sippies at a time, use a fork and a spoon at the same time etc. We love our little Mesa girl and are so happy she is in our family.

Echo Dawn

Finally! I didn't want to post pictures of our beautiful little baby if I couldn't attach a name to them. But now that we have the official birth certificate back with a finalized name, I can post these.

I really appreciate my sister jumping in and helping me with these pictures. I've always wanted to have an infant photo shoot, but I didn't really know how to go about it, and I really didn't have the energy to stop and do it. But Shado stopped by, and on the spur of the moment, she threw some things together to bring over. It was just the motivational boost I needed. The more we played around, the more creative we got. We are by no means professionals, but I had such a fun time doing them, and the important thing was that we did it. So thank you Shado, these wouldn't have happened without you.



Echo Dawn Stotlar



Sleeping under Daddy's hat



Watchin' over Baby



One of my favorite props we found to use.



Just peacefully sleeping

Playing around with some photo editing

Oil painting   =)

Belated, yes. But Happy Valentines Day!

We were really getting creative at the end. "Little Island Baby"

The rest of these are just different variations of the poses. I couldn't pick favorites.

Sweet dreams, lil' cowgirl!

Already lassoed my heart

This rocking horse was her great-great-Grandma's!

Brrr. It's cold, Mama.



She let us play with her for probably 4 hours and she just slept through everything.



Are you done yet?

ZZZZZZZZZZ

Boots and Saddles! All ready to ride.

Just a little note about the cute boots in these pictures. My good friend Janessa made them for my little girls. She is so crafty and talented. You can hop over to her website and see the other cool things she and her sister make at Huckleberry Hazel or her cake website. Amazing!

Sleeping on Daddy's hat.
We decided the hat band was too pokey to make her sit in the hat, but she would've fit.

Echo just had her 2-Month Well-Baby Checkup and here are her latest stats:

Height: 22-1/4 inches     50th percentile

Weight: 11 lbs 1.5 oz     50th percentile

   Head: 15 inches            Who knows?  =)

Echo has been a very sweet, mellow baby. She is usually very happy, with only a touch of colic now and again. She is very smiley and interactive, and she typically gives me a good 5-7 hour stretch of sleep every night. She already loves her sisters and loves it when they play with her. We love her so much!

Sweet baby girl

So, I've started this post in my mind a dozen times in the last three(!) weeks. Each version had a different beginning depending on my mood, the latest happenings at home, or something funny that had struck me. But since you can only have ONE beginning to a post, and here it is a whole three weeks since the baby has been born, I decided I had better just sit down and write it. Even though I JUST drew hot water to wash the dishes that have been piling up since yesterday and I can't stand washing dishes in lukewarm water so I'll end up draining it and refilling it, AND even though I was up late and slept half the night in the armchair so I should be napping during this blessed naptime, AND even though I have been dedicating every other awake (and coherent) moment that isn't filled with my children and all that entails to finishing the ranch's taxes so we can get on to filing our own. I'm still going to write this post.

*Disclaimers: Sorry for all those who have heard my story and this is a repeat. And apologies to anyone who doesn't like birth stories, you can skip the rest of this post and catch the next one, oh, probably in another month at my pace. =)

Monday, January 24th started with the regular rush of the day. We got the girls up and ready so Shane could drop them off at my parents while he did chores and we went to my appointment at 9:15 that morning. While he was gone I got ready and wondered anxiously what my appointment would tell me. All week I was secretly hoping that my water would break or at least start leaking, or I would be super dilated at my appointment, or I would start getting painful contractions. . . just SOMETHING that would give me a sign that it was time, that my body was ready, that the baby was ready, and that the end was near. I went a whole week after the doctor stripped my membranes with nothing happening (and no, it didn't hurt to get them stripped, at least in my case).

So, we went to my appointment to see where I was at this week. I was dilated to 5 cm. In my mind, I'm thinking, "What!? Only a 5? Seriously? I need more than that to go on." On the other hand, the nurse was saying, "Wow! That's great! Most women only get to a 2 on the exam table, and you're already halfway there!"

So the question remained: What am I supposed to do? I technically still had 2 more days until my "due date." Should I stick it out the remaining two days, or in the end, is it really not going to make a difference? I'm already a 5 after all. My doctor looked at me and asked, "So, what do you want to do? Do you want to set up an appointment to break your water on Wednesday if you don't go before then?" Gag. Can I really stick it out for two more days? If it was the right thing to do, of course I could.

Then the doctor continued, "Or we can go get you set up right now. I could break your water, and you'll probably have this baby by noon."

The proposition sounded frighteningly appealing. Maybe too appealing. It sounded so selfish to just say yes right then. Instead, I looked pleadingly at Shane for an answer, but his eyes only reflected my own feelings of I-DON'T-KNOW. So I said I would go home and think about it. "But I might be back," I finished lamely.

We went out to the truck each mostly lost in our own thoughts. So, I called my mom. I talked to her the whole way to her house to pick up the girls. I just poured out my jumbled thoughts, worries, etc. I wasn't sure if I wanted to pick up the girls yet because if I decided to go ahead and get my water broken, I didn't want to have to pack up the girls and drop them off again somewhere. It was easier to just leave them where they were, without even letting them know we were done "going to the doctor said". So, we just parked by the road leading to my parents' house while I finished talking to my mom.

She said, "You are the mom. You are the one doing the work, so you can decide. Don't let everyone else's opinions about what you should or shouldn't do sway you. You know your body and what is best. You are the one that has to do all the work, so you get to decide. And you don't have to decide right now. Go eat some lunch or something." It was good advice.

We stopped and talked to my sister. Shane called his mom (a nurse). I tried to call my aunt who had just had her baby. Everyone obviously had their own thoughts and opinions. Finally, we just went home and decided to talk to the one who really mattered. After talking together for a moment, we prayed about our decision. . . We were going to have a baby that day. I remember still having a lot of questions and doubts, but I felt a peace that told me everything would be okay.

Shane cleaned up the kitchen a little for me (I didn't want to leave a messy kitchen) while I finished packing my bag and called my parents to let them know what we had decided. I called my doctor to let him know I was coming in and asked where he wanted me to go. He almost sounded surprised and asked if I was having contractions. I said no, that I was just going to have him break my water, "unless that doesn't work for you." I added. He said, "Oh, well, let me see if they have a room for you."

That kinda shook my resolve for a moment. I had finally decided to do this and then it felt like I was forcing the issue. I waited while he called and sure enough, the (only) birthing room was available if I wanted to go in then.

After a quick stop at Subway (I was starving, okay?) we headed to the hospital. I scarfed down about a 1/3 of the sandwich before I gave the rest to Shane. I was still hungry, but I was trying to avoid any embarrassing moments during delivery. We went to the front desk of the hospital and the nurse asked if she could help us. I was a bit dumbfounded, "Uhh, we're here to have a baby today?" I said with a question in my voice, like can't-you-see-I-have-this-abnormal-bump-on-my-belly-and-I-would-like-it-removed. So then she asked if we had pre-registered. "Pre-registered? Uhh, no?" At this point, I was thinking it was a good thing it wasn't an emergency or I might have had a hard time remaining calm during the whole situation. "See if we have room for you?" "Pre-registered?" I just wanted to have a baby.
Finally, paperwork signed, yet another lovely hospital gown donned, IV inserted, monitors beeping their existence, table with instruments prepped and covered, and cue doctor.

1:00 PM: The doctor breaks my water. Liquid clear. All looks good. He says he will be back to check on me later. I get unhooked from as many machines as possible, braid my hair, and start walking the hall outside my room. It's always amazing the myriad of feelings that hit me almost predictably during labor. Before everything starts, it is a whole lot of anxiety and fear. Once my water it broken, I get a wave of "Let's do this!" and I start walking. With gusto. I am certain I looked like I was ready to run a maternity marathon or something as I made my circles up and down the hall, carting my IV stand with me. Shane gave up trying to keep up with me, so he sat down and called family to let them know I was at the hospital. I texted family while I walked to let them know there was no turning back at this point.

1:30 PM: Contractions start coming. Nothing major, I can still walk through them easily enough. Shane runs back to the house for my insurance card which I had forgotten and to stop at the hardware store. I'm sure whatever it was he needed at the hardware store was something very critical and desparately needed to help me deliver a baby. =) While he was gone, the contractions start to come in waves, one hard one, one or two small ones.

Shane gets back about the time I start slowing down for each contraction. I look at the clock on my cell phone each time a contraction comes--2:05, 2:07, 2:09, 2:11, 2:13, 2:16. I start to lean on the wall through each one and focus on breathing.

2:30ish PM: My nurse comes back to check on me. After a quick check, she says I'm between a 6 and 7. She hooks me back up to the monitors so the doctor can get a good reading on the feed that is monitoring contractions when he comes back. I lay in bed for awhile watching the contractions come and go and reading the numbers on the monitor. 20 is "zero". By the time it hits 30, I can feel the contraction growing. 80 is killer. I start to relax and look for the release at about 56 as the contraction ebbs away.

I'm not sure what to put here: "No, I'm not scowling at my belly," or "I didn't know Shane was taking a picture," or perhaps, "Just watching a contraction." You choose.

After getting some good feed on the chart, I get unhooked again so I can be mobile. Yay! Freedom! I try to stay out of bed and off my back as much as possible during labor. The pain is so much more bearable when I can move at will. My nurse offers a birthing ball, which I had thought about using if I had the chance. It was nice being able to roll through some contractions. I thought it helped sitting on the ball.  

3:50 PM: My doctor comes to check me. I'm an 8! I have to go to the bathroom. Again. While I am trying to accomplish this while dodging contractions, I can hear my doctor talking to Shane: "Probably another 45 minutes and we'll have a baby somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00." On the other side of the door, in my mind, I'm thinking, "Please don't put a timeframe on this. Don't tell me I have to do this for 45 more minutes. Just say, 'We'll have a baby soon' and I will keep holding on for one more minute, one more contraction. But don't tell me I have to do this for 45 more minutes!"

I come out of the bathroom and my doctor has been replaced with my nurse. She is actually from my ward and I was so glad she was my nurse from start to finish. I really enjoyed her. She had been warned that I deliver fairly quickly which was why the instrument table was prepped and covered right away, rather than waiting until I was "closer". She also kept telling me that if I "felt ANY vaginal pressure" to call her right away. She reissued the warning as she left the room and said she would be back to check soon. I decided to get back on the birthing ball and try to muddle my way throught the next "45 minutes". I walked from the bathroom door, but only made it the foot of the bed before another contraction hit. I gripped the handrail, and suddenly I felt a moment of panic, as an intense urge to push came and I literally felt the baby coming. In a moment of panic I put my hand between my legs and said, "Oh no! I think she's coming!"

If there was any doubt in my mind before about what the nurse meant when she said "any vaginal pressure," it was gone and it was pretty clear to me, this baby was coming out. Shane jumped up and buzzed the nurses who came rushing in. Like a whirlwind, they started prepping the room and one said, "Call the doctor. Get him down here right now."

I protested and said, "Well, don't bother him. He said it would be another 45 minutes. I don't want to call him for nothing." He had been gone barely 5 minutes, if that.

"Oh no sweetheart. It's better to be safe than sorry," the other nurse replied.

My doctor rushed in the room, smiling. "That was a quick 45 minutes! Let's check and see where you are at. Can you get on the bed?"

That was precisely my intention, but it was slightly challenging trying to get my body to listen when it was so focused on delivering the baby at that point. But we succeeded in getting on the bed.

My efforts were rewarded when the doctor checked me and said,"Yep, you whipped right open. You're there. Can you give me 30 seconds to get dressed?"

"I think so," I replied trying not to push. But the doctor was already trying to get garbed up for delivery. Within a matter of seconds, it was showtime. Off goes the end of the bed, out come the stirrups, and the last of my modesty goes out the door. But I didn't care. I was going to do this. And I was going to do it well. I wasn't going to fall apart between pushes like I did with Mesa. I wasn't going to stop holding my breath and pushing until my 10 seconds was up and I was going to focus. I could feel my contraction coming, so I verbally prepared myself: Chin down to chest, hold my breath and push for 10 seconds. Three times for each contraction.

So, deep breath and push. One contraction and her head crowned. The doctor asked if I wanted to keep pushing, but my contraction was leaving, so I said I would wait for the next one. He said, "I think we can get her here next push." I hung onto that thought. Sure enough, next push and her head was out. The cord was around her neck, so we stopped and cut that before delivering the rest of her.

Time of birth: 4:10 PM. A mere 20 minutes from the time the doctor checked me and said I was an 8, to baby born.

A little bit blue in the face from the cord being wrapped around her neck.

Brand new!

Hospital stats:

7 lbs. 15 oz.

21.5 in

We did it!

We did it! And I say 'we' because Shane was right there with me, holding my hand through each contraction and giving me strength when I needed it most.

I was so worried about so many things that really didn't matter in the end. She was a whole pound lighter than Mesa, even after two extra weeks of incubating. She just really wasn't ready to come out yet. It really reaffirmed to me that the baby and your body know best and that she really needed to wait those extra two weeks. 

Rain and Mesa meeting their new sister. What fun! Three girls: ages 3 and under!

The girls came to say hello (we found out later they weren't supposed to come to the hospital because of RSV season, but oh well).

Rain taking care of the baby.

Rain has quickly adopted the "mother" role and says she needs to take care of her. She loves to give her kisses and rub the hair on her head. She likes to hold her and always watches in case her binky falls out so she can put it back in her mouth.

Mesa thought she was interesting at first, but is struggling with relinquishing her "baby of the family" role. If I am holding the baby, she won't let me touch her. She will be crying and won't let me give her a hug until I "mose baby" (move baby). She also asks me to "care" (carry) her more these days. I hope we can adjust soon.

Meeting Paca and PacaMa - my parents.

And alas, we still have not named her. Shane could have named her at the hospital, but I am still having an internal struggle with feeling right about her name. She is so sweet and mellow. I have lots of feelings bottled up inside about her, but nothing that can translate into a name yet.

Getting bundled up and ready to go home!

Stay tuned: Up next--Photoshoot!

This had better be my last pregnancy update for this baby . . .

Next I hope to post actual pictures of this baby and not another frustrating appointment recap. Last week I was a 4, and this week, I'm a  . . . "stretchy" 4. Wow, that's exciting. Then comes the decision, do I just leave things alone or do I have the doctor strip my membranes? The way he put it was "75% of women who have their membranes strip have the baby within 75 hours. The other 1/4 don't." So, if your body is ready, it encourages it, but if it's not ready, it really doesn't make a difference. Still, I don't like interfering.

My first two babies came two weeks early and it was perfect. I'm almost 39 weeks (tomorrow) and every day makes me more restless and anxious. What if this baby is even bigger than the last one (8lbs 13oz)? What if I can't do it naturally again? Should I have stripped my membranes, or just waited? What if I can't do three children at all? Shane thinks the baby hasn't come yet because I am mentally keeping it in, because I am afraid of having another baby. It's partially true . . . who really wants to volunteer for labor and delivery pain, and let's face it, it's not easy having a little tiny baby to care for. I'm not saying it isn't worth it, because it totally is, but it's a lot of time, patience, and sacrifice. I feel pretty accomplished when I can get three square meals on the table, a load of laundry done, and a path through the toys cleared in one day. But that doesn't get you "ahead" anywhere. I'm barely holding back the tide and I'm afraid once the baby comes, I'm going to get pummeled.

Shane has hopes that since this pregnancy is so different, that perhaps it's a boy because "boys have to grow more." I think he is grasping at straws and is afraid to be even more outnumbered.

I am excited for the girls to have another sister to love and play with. Rain is making such progress in being the Big Sister and watching out for Mesa. She has made some super big steps in the past couple months: Giving up her binky and Potty training. She hasn't had an accident during the day for awhile now and she can go some nights and stay dry. She insists on wearing her panties to bed under her "special diaper" (Pull-up) so she can still be a big girl. Sometimes I worry that she holds it too long. She can go once in the morning when she wakes up, and then not go again for hours---like past breakfast, past lunch, through a 2-hour nap, and start playing again after her nap, before I MAKE her sit down and just "see" if her body has to go. She's like a camel. Maybe it seems like such a stark difference to me because I am constantly going and it is a miracle her body can last that long. Sometimes it's hard to let her be independent and do it all by herself. I cringe and hold my breath when she has to empty her potty chair by herself and I hope she gets it all in the toilet. But she does admirably and promptly asks if she can have a "pootsie roll" (tootsie roll) for going potty.

Mesa also wants to be a big girl like Rain and has to sit on the potty too. She will tell me "poo-poo" and "potty" and won't give it up until she sits on the toilet for 1.5 seconds (fully dressed or stark naked) and then she is done. She wants down and runs off to play. Oh, how I love my two little girls. One more is just going to add to the adventure.

Mesa loves to give Rain a hug before she goes "nigh-night"

Lest anyone think that Shane doesn't love his girls, here is a video to attest otherwise. It's long and the sound and motion aren't quite matching up (I can't tell if it's because my computer is super slow or if it has something to do with the fact that Shane rolled a horse down the mountain with MY camera in the saddle bags. Either way, my video clips are "special") but I ask you, how many dads are man enough to dance to Barbie with his girls?

Mesa is a bit of a Daddy's girl, definitely more so than Rain. Mesa insists on a kiss when daddy leaves for work, when I scold her she calls for Daddy, and sometimes only Daddy can get her more milk or blow on her food. On the other hand, Rain is the same way for me. If she wakes up crying and I've already had a hard night and I send Shane in to help her, she starts screaming, "No, I need mommy to do it."

The girls love to be cowboys like Daddy

I warned the receptionists at the clinic that I might not be a happy camper if I have to come in next Monday for my scheduled checkup. We were all counting on cancelling the appointment I had yesterday. They said not to worry and that they would have some chocolate on hand to console me. I guess I can look forward to that, right?