This Is Our Story

Life. It's so sweet. Exhausting. Fast-paced. Fun. Challenging. But, it's beautiful. Every part of it. It's a story, well-written by the most fascinating author. God. Each story uniquely and perfectly written, word by word, line by line.  When we look at the person to our left and to our right, we're all in different chapters. I'm not sure what chapter we're in, but it's always changing. Every chapter brings about new experiences and new challenges, but it's a story I'm in love with. And, it's our story. 

In October of 2007, I met Grant. He proposed on the Fourth of July in 2008, we married in March of 2010, and were expecting our first child in February 2011. Talk about moving quick! 

Like every book, some chapters linger, and some, well, some chapters fly by. I went 9 years without dating, and then I met Grant. Here we are... married, 3 beautiful children, and looking back and wondering what and when did all this just happen? Ha-ha. 

We weren't expecting to get pregnant right away, but we did. Excitement ran through the roof, but it wasn't quite real to us, until we found ourselves in the hospital. You never go in, especially with your first, expecting complications. I was 6 cm dilated with contractions that actually relieved me instead of tortured me. This was going to be a piece of cake, is what I thought. So much so, that I told the nurses if I was progressing this quickly with little pain that I wouldn't need the epidural. They assured me that things would get more painful, and that if I changed my mind later, the anesthesiologist may not be available at the time I'd want one. I quickly requested Kiko. Not long after, things went south. They rushed me in for a cesarean, and found a knot in the cord, in addition to it wrapped entirely around his belly and his neck. Every time a contraction came it would tighten the knot, minimizing the flow of oxygen to Parker. I know many people frown upon the increase in c-sections nowadays, but I am thankful for mine. I'm thankful for doctors who took the steps needed to ensure the health and safety of our little boy. Parker is now four, and he's one of the smartest little boys I know. 

Not long after Parker, we decided to try for our second child. I was torn between a scheduled c-section or a VBAC. Considering the size of Parker (9.1 lbs), the doctor made a point to say that statistically speaking, second babies are usually bigger and that birthing a large baby would be no walk in the park. Easily convinced, I scheduled the cesarean. 

I never told many people what happened in the hospital. Many people were anticipating the news, but they were left with no answers. They wanted to know, see and hear about baby. They were asking how everything went the morning of Reid's birth. But honestly, we weren't sure. Baby was okay. Mommy was not. My apologies to anyone who thought I was being rude or silent. The whole delivery was scary. 

I went in that morning, anticipating the moment I'd see and hold Reid for the first time, sharing and seeing Parker's face when he met him for the first time, and then sharing the news with family and friends. That's what I had hoped for. 

The normal numbing procedure for scheduled cesareans are done via spinals. They started the procedure early that morning, and 30 seconds in, I could barely talk while trying to catch my breath. It's normal to see a drop in blood pressure, and often times they spike it using medication. When they spiked it the first time, my body did not react. I've been told they routed to plan B, and tried to spike it with a different type of medication, to which my blood pressure skyrocketed. At this point, I screamed (So I've been told) and remember saying, "if you guys don't do something now, my head is going to explode." 

I remember the nurses calling for the head anesthesiologist. I remember hearing these words, "we haven't quite stabilized her. If we can't stabilize her, we will have to put her under." Talk about the end of your life. It's not comforting. It's scary. I remember laying there on that cold operating table, shivering and teeth chattering uncontrollably, thinking I may not walk out of this place. I may not make it. I thought to myself, while in pain, that Grant would be walking out with two boys. Alone. Tears began to race down my cheeks. It was a silent kind of cry. I felt helpless. I think the doctors felt helpless too.

After the chaotic atmosphere settled and I was stabilized, my doctor asked if we were ready to proceed. At this point he had yet to start the surgery. He started the procedure, and I started to cough. In fact, I couldn't stop. I remember him asking, "Were you sick coming in today?" No! No, I was not. 

Finally, the heavenly sound of Reid's first cry. Tears. Lots of them, rolled down my face. At this point I was wondering if I'd be going home with him?

I got to the recovery room, and an overwhelming feeling of relief came over me. Reid nursed for an hour, Parker got to meet him and everything was going great! Until... Grant leaves to get Parker situated and comfortable at home with Papa and Yaya, and the nurses come in to tell me that baby has to go to the nursery and that I have to go to the ICU. WHAT?!?!? Perfect timing. My husband just left and you're telling me I can't be with my baby, and I'm going to an entirely different unit and floor from him?!?

Talk about a shock. I was feeling fine, had been doing fine and they're taking me to the Intensive Care Unit. They began to explain that they were unsure of what happened in the Operating Room, and threw out the possibility of a heart attack and a pulmonary embolism. Their conclusion as of now (two years later) is that I am sensitive to medication and I reacted to the spinal. I believe there's more to the story that's not being said, but they'll never tell us what really happened. There's too much at stake. 

Let's just say... I would have taken Parker's emergency c-section over Reid's scheduled cesarean any day. But, God had a plan. I believe without a doubt that Jesus' hand played a huge role in what happened, which is why I'm still here. Jesus was there in that room. I believe He fixed what human hands may have mistakenly messed up, and I am forever thankful. 

After many doctor appointments with neurologists and cardiologists, everything came back normal. Thank you, Jesus. 

As for having a third child, I was emotionally torn. I was scared. Many times I found myself saying I'd rather be a mom of two healthy boys than try again and have a single dad of three. 

But, I remember standing in line at Publix, talking to a sweet lady in front of me. She was chatting with the boys, complimenting how well-behaved and cute they were, and then said to me, "I have two as well, but boy do I regret not having a third. I really wanted a third, but we just never went for it." I had to ask myself, would I regret not having tried? And then I started thinking that fear should not stop me. Where is my faith? And wasn't Jesus there with me during Reid's delivery? I couldn't let fear decide for me. I knew I wanted to try again for baby three. After about a month (maybe longer), Grant was finally on board. One... last... time. 

COOL LITTLE SIDE STORY

Before we decided to try for baby number three, we were sitting on the couch one evening. Parker looked at me and says, "mommy, when the baby girl comes out of your belly, then we will name her." I was honestly confused, and Grant chimed in and asked, "Are you telling him about babies already?" 

No! I haven't said one word to him about babies. (We weren't even pregnant at the time.) So Grant asks Parker, "Hey buddy, what do you mean baby girl?" He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't know. When she comes out, then we'll name her."

Grant and I oddly looked at each other and never thought twice about it. 

So, back to baby three. We are both on board, and we quickly find ourselves pregnant. We share the news, and Parker is automatically convinced it's a girl. Sometimes I wonder if Jesus told him, especially after the encounter we had with him before we were pregnant. 

On the way to the doctors to find out what we were having, I wanted to prepare Parker that this could very well be a boy. He cried when I told him and said, "I don't want another boy!" When we finally found out we were having a girl, there was no reaction. He just had an "I told you so" kind of attitude. It was no real news to him. He apparently knew in his heart, and throughout the entire pregnancy that he was having a baby sister. Parker even chose her name. 

As we got further along, I was certain baby girl would come early. I was hoping so--I was so uncomfortable this third time around. However, she must have been super comfortable inside mommy having gone 39 weeks and 4 days. Pretty close to full term. I was over it by 6 months, ha. 

The date of our scheduled cesarean was nearing. To tell you I wasn't scared or concerned would be a lie. However, I knew that God gave us this third blessing, and all I could do was trust Him completely. 

Because of my complications, and what the doctors like to call "a rare case", they had to prepare their entire team in the OR. They had to be on top of anything that could go wrong, just in case I responded to the medication the same way. With that, we opted for the epidural instead of the spinal in hopes for an uneventful delivery. Things would progress slower, but safer. Kiko was THE MAN! I requested him over 100 times. He was the anesthesiologist that took care of me during Parker's emergency, and I wanted him! 

When he walked into the room, I think I got a little choked up, and said, "I'm SO SO happy to see your face!" I think I took him by surprise. 

Anyways, long story short, this delivery was the first one that Grant could be apart of. He was there to experience the delivery, hold my hand and comfort me. It was the first delivery that was uneventful. I know that Jesus was there in that room. I know He was. There were moments I'd feel tugging or normal discomfort from the operation, or I would allow my mind to wonder places that would result in shivers and chattering teeth. I couldn't control them. I'd close my eyes, picture the cross with Jesus in front of it, and in that moment everything stopped. My chatters and shivers were gone. That happened a handful of times on the operating table. He was there. Without a doubt. 

It was the first time I heard laughing in the operating room. The doctors joked and laughed with Grant. Me? Not so much. I just wanted it over with. They laughed about whether or not the baby was a girl or a boy. Told me that if she were a boy, we should name him Elway. Grant would have appreciated the name. John Elway. Colorado. Get it? 

Anyways, as soon as he pulled her out, he leaned her over the drape and said if there were any concerns about being a girl, here we have it. We laugh, and Grant says, "well at least there's only one!" And my doctor leans over the drape and says, "We aren't done yet!" 

There was a lot of laughing; something so different than with our first two experiences. Then, for just a moment, it was bittersweet. Sad, really. The last 15 minutes were spent ending an entire chapter of our own--the doctor cut and tied the tubes. I will never carry another child or feel another kick. It hasn't fully hit me emotionally. Maybe it never will. But, there's a time in life when chapters must end and new ones begin. I'm just happy we tried a third time. I consider myself blessed and truly thankful that this time was uneventful. All praise and thanks go to Jesus alone.

Oh life, it's a beautiful thing, but it moves so fast. I wish it would slow down. Sadly, it never will. We have to embrace it while we can, savor each and every moment because life is but a breath. Ella is just shy of three weeks. I'm going to blink and they'll all be off to college. I know. People remind me daily how quick it goes by. 

So, we will enjoy this journey that God has set before us. We pray that we can be examples of Jesus to and for our children. That they will grow to love Him and love all people unconditionally. We will trust in God to guide our steps and teach us how to be more Christ-like. And at the end of the day, no matter what or where life takes us, Jesus will be the center of it. 

We are pretty simple people who love Jesus, love people and love life and this is us; this is our story.

Happy 2015!

So, Happy New Year a month late. It's been a whirlwind of a month or two, but I finally feel like we are getting back into the swing of things. For now. April is going to bring about a whole new world for us.

As for the new year, this was our last picture as a family in 2014. It isn't great. In fact, it's not great at all. It was late and a bit blurry.

New Year's is always special for us because we aren't just celebrating the New Year. It happens to be my Mr. Handsome's birthday. We spent the day doing a little of what Grant enjoys, along with a tasty lunch from Chipotle's. 

And before we knew it, we were in 2015 already! 

Exhausted and Honest

This past week has been extra challenging. No reason. Nothing out of the ordinary. Parker seems to be testing us a little more than usual. He's becoming his own person. He's begging for boundaries on a daily basis. I've never been so constant with discipline. It's exhausting and the endless no's, time outs, warnings and spankings make me feel like a mean mom. Ever been there?

Lately, I've been asking myself, "am I being too hard on him? Am I expecting too much?" He knows better. He knows right from wrong. He knows what he's doing is unacceptable, especially when he voluntarily puts himself in timeout. Yes, I just said that correctly. Three times this week. THREE. He ran himself right to timeout. I chuckle. It's funny because he's smart. He'd rather take a seat than a spoon.

My thoughts about parenthood and the reality of it have once again proven to be opposite.  Most women like to think of all the wonderful aspects of having children: dress up, adorable photos, giggling and family vacations. I experience these moments, and they're wonderful. They are. We love to go places and make memories. But, day in and day out we struggle to find them. We see a lot of teasing back and forth, disobedience, fussiness, crying and tantrums. It's work trying to make two fully-energized little boys happy, with an effort of trying to feel in control, stress free and organized. And then, somehow adding to the chaos, these cute little tornados manage to find every spot you've tried cleaning (and felt a small amount of accomplishment for the day) and trashed it or dirtied it again. The attempt feels good, but the aftermath just feels like wasted time. Why try to clean a mess that'll look the same minutes later. It's a never-ending battle, and quite frankly, will be for the next several years. I just tell myself often, "don't sweat the small stuff."

So, back to this false perception of parenthood. When I was starting to have kids I thought of all the things new mom's think of: names, nursery, and clothes. All of their firsts and the baby book. Visiting with family and friends. Play dates. But what about discipline? And what to do when it starts? 

Terrible two's were rare in our home with Parker. He has always been fairly easy. Even at the age of three, it's never hit "terrible" status, but it has gotten more challenging. For the most part, I've always felt in control, disciplined to the best of my knowledge and it's worked for us most of the time. But lately, he's trying to figure things out on his own. He's taking matters into his own hands with Reid. He feels like he has the authority to do so; The authority to correct Reid's behavior. It's cute, but often times it's not. And "no" is his favorite word. To everything.

I was warned by a few moms about this phase; that it comes rather quickly, and you'll feel like all you do is discipline. It's constant. I think we've entered it. It's emotionally tough for me as a mom. I found myself whispering under my breath, "where did my little Parker go? The one who didn't need timeouts or spankings?" It's a positive experience. He's learning. I'm learning. He's trying to solve problems on his own. He's becoming more independent, and with that comes boundaries. All kids need boundaries.

I'm trying to figure out where to step in and where to watch; when to communicate and when to be silent. I want him to figure things out on his own (of course, what a 3-year old is expected to know--they're smarter than we give them credit for sometimes), and in his own little way without me trying to draw it out every step of the way. I think it's healthy for them. I can only hope that we've taught the basics, and that he'll know going into situations what is right and what is wrong.

Parker's using Reid to help him understand a lot lately. No, it's not okay to poke him in the eye for the fifth time today, or take every toy away from him because you want it and have the strength to do so. The same goes for Reid. He's done his fair share of testing, teasing and hitting. Surprisingly, he's made Parker cry a few times. 

It's hard to be the referee. I never considered the tougher details of becoming a parent. They'd come with time, right? Well the time has come. These are small matters, I know. This is nothing compared to what will come in later years, but it's eye opening. Every phase of parenthood comes with something new and different to learn, and I feel like we are just now entering a new phase. 

I really try not to sweat the small stuff, like a dirty house 24-7, sticky fingers everywhere, dirt drug in by shoes, and the tower of laundry that's been unfolded a hundred times because I haven't had the time or effort to put them away the first time. It's all minor details that I "try" not to make a big deal. However, it's the teaching of Jesus, the consistency with discipline, respect for others, manners and rules that mean so much more. It's the shaping of these little people that will effect who they are and what they do. These matter to me. This is where I struggle. It's a long-term effect on our children, and I can only pray that God directs me every step of the way. 

I'm not always sure I choose the best method of discipline. Time out again? Am I the only mom who raised my voice today? Will my boys think I'm mean? Did I even talk about Jesus today? Some days I just want to cry. And some days I do. Some days I want to pull my hair out, and other days I wouldn't mind locking myself in my room for an hour. I take a lot of deep breaths. Guilt is a mom's worst enemy. It will eat us alive. I've felt overwhelmed and emotional. I've felt like I've failed as a mom and a wife some days. It runs in cycles. Not every day. Not every week. It comes and goes. But this is a note to all moms--you are doing a great job. Right now. Right where you are, you're doing fine.

This is not my outlet to complain. That's not what I'm trying to do here. It's life, and it gets a little tough sometimes. We have great weeks. Really good ones, but lately it's just been exhausting. I've come to realize that it's normal. My life is normal. Your life is normal too. You aren't alone. We are all in this together. (It does help having a husband who understands, who encourages nights out, and who willingly takes on whatever he has to when he gets home to relieve me.) Some weeks are tough, and that's okay. The great weeks far outweigh the "busier", more challenging ones. 

So momma... the tired, exhausted one out there, if you ever need an ear, I'm always a call or message away. I know that it can be encouraging to talk to moms who are in the same boat, or close to it. More importantly, God will give you strength, and we can pray and encourage one another! Remember, you're doing great, Momma!

Special Visitor

Parker has been in soccer for the past 10 weeks now. He started out pretty shy and clingy, but has made huge progress; great progress. So proud of him! There's not much in the way of soccer games; it's just not that doable for 3-4 year olds. However, they do play games that involve running and use of the soccer ball. Coach Jay is great, and has done a wonderful job entertaining and keeping all of the little ones focused.

In the meantime, "Tall" Papa had been talking about making it to one of Parker's games (or practice, if you will), and today was that special day! Parker was beyond excited.

After soccer, Papa joined us for dinner at Panera. 

We had the chance to take Papa down to the beach for a little bit. 

My World!

I'm way too tired to blog, but I'll share my world in just a few pictures.

Happy Mother's Day!

...To all of the wonderful moms and mothers-to-be!

(For Mother's Day we went to church, and then to one of my favorite places to eat, TacoLus. Afterwards, we went to one of the boys favorite places. Adventure Landing. There's nothing I want more for Mother's Day than to be with my boys, my family. It's my happy place.)

A mom. A mother. What is she? She is not just a woman. She's more than that. She's a lover. A giver. A provider. A supplier. A supporter. A cheerleader. A hard worker. She's selfless. The list goes on.

My mom devoted many (hard) days to my life; to me (and for me) so that I thrived and survived. We were not rich. I had a pillow. I had a bed. I had a home. I had shoes. I had toys. I had the necessities. But more importantly, I had love. A love that far outweighs things. Things were exciting and new, but eventually aged and faded. But, love leaves an impression on the heart. Love is everlasting. It never fades. It never gets old. Love is what makes us who we are.

Every little girl dreams of their prince. They want to be longed for and wanted. They want to build a home and a family. They desire babies. Well, most little girls do. It's the way our little minds work. It's this fairy tale that we see and believe after watching princess movies. The thought of having our own children, nurturing them and being needed... It's this picture we paint in our minds that we so desperately want.

And then, years later we finally bring this dream, this desire, to life. It's reality. And it's beautiful, rewarding and wonderful, but let's get real. It's exhausting. It's challenging. It's hard.

My mom started young. She had five kids by the age of 21. She was a single mom, but somehow we always had what we needed. She was enough. I have 2, started later and have a helpful spouse and STILL haven't figured out this whole parenting thing. I still ask her, "how in the world did you do it?" I find myself complaining about silly small things, but I'm reminded of my mom. Who am I to complain? She had FIVE. There are some days I am thrilled to see Grant get home from work because I've missed him. Some days I get even more excited because I just need a break.  To start dinner, or sit (especially on days the boys don't nap). She didn't get a break. Ever. Her job wasn't over after she clocked out. She was full-time, all the time. For five little people, who each needed her; and no extra hands to help.

My life is good. I can't complain about anything. God has been so good to me, and I have a wonderful little family. But, my mom has taught me more than she thinks she has. I have come to appreciate life more; to appreciate what I have and to be thankful, even on tougher days. My mom has taught me strength. If she did it with five, I CAN do it with two.

She taught me that I don't have to have the best of things to still be happy. She had very little, but gave so much. Life was good, and it's because of her. She was and still is enough. She's my mother. Today, I celebrate her. I celebrate who she is and what she has taught me.

Love is what we needed. Love is what she gave, and I appreciate and love that woman more than she will ever know. You are strong. You are beautiful. You are my mom. And, I love you. Happy Mother's Day!

I feel like a...

New woman! I got to sleep in until 9:15 am. Yes. That's correct. And, no there were no typos. I cannot tell you the last time I've done that. It was nice. Refreshing. Not for Grant, ha.

In addition to the extra rest, I ran out (kid-free) and got my hair cut. It's been over a year since my hair has encountered scissors. I went a little out of my comfort zone on price, but it was well worth every dollar. It's just nice to do that sort of thing every once in a while. Like once a year. Mother's Day weekend. Great Saturday!