tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71207434568745631742024-03-13T14:49:59.315-07:00Kristin OwenKristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-37423830450184769982015-03-17T14:11:00.001-07:002015-03-17T14:32:14.097-07:00Rio and the Case of the Red Dye<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-DwzE8MhMSqL__3TnmHt-CUTszogaxPUBTScPYq8JMqo7Cf6z2M1S-_gUpw2_NhxyZ5nXQj0hv17oKZ5hqYYfD0ZYE5F5wIcpF1nOJLzRPjbdLXtVYBcjIjC99RXUepieYpphtrPTVc9/s640/blogger-image--182405373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-DwzE8MhMSqL__3TnmHt-CUTszogaxPUBTScPYq8JMqo7Cf6z2M1S-_gUpw2_NhxyZ5nXQj0hv17oKZ5hqYYfD0ZYE5F5wIcpF1nOJLzRPjbdLXtVYBcjIjC99RXUepieYpphtrPTVc9/s640/blogger-image--182405373.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>So, if you've met Rio, you know. You know she's a wonderful mix of a child. She's hilarious. She is just genuinely funny without any effort whatsoever. You've seen pics my husband has posted. She is spunky and full of life. She follows her own set of rules, even if they go against normal rules. If she doesn't want to do something, she says so. She's honest. She's an antagonist. You say one thing; she'll want the opposite. She's spontaneous; I can't ever think "no, Rio wouldn't do that." Cause she will. She loves to be told when she's doing the right thing. Let her know. Encourage her. "Hold you". This is all she wants. She wants to be picked up. To snuggle. To be held. Jonathan says tickling is her love language. I think he's right. Anyways, you get it. Rio is precious. She is a beautiful darling spunky girl. <div><br></div><div>Around New Years we started experiencing some difficulties with our dear Rio. She started getting really sensitive with clothing. And having what we called "episodes". They would come out of nowhere. I don't know if I can properly explain it, but it's like she had no control of herself. Like she couldn't handle being inside her own skin. They were difficult. There was no way to help her, to calm her, to comfort her. I tried every clothing she owned. Nothing worked. I tried every method of reasoning with her, helping her, calmly dealing with her. As a mother, this is so hard. That's my job, and I wasn't able to do it. It was so hard seeing my Rio, whom I know, acting like a different kid. The episodes were getting in the way of who she really is. I know Rio. I know she disobeys. I know she's 3. I know there's a new baby in the family that can cause issues. But this wasn't behavioral. Behavioral I could at least address. Discipline and move on. This was so much more. </div><div><br></div><div>I was so anxious all the time. My stomach was constantly in knots. One day I was so discouraged, not knowing how to help Rio. I was crying, crying out to God for a solution. Help. An answer. </div><div><br></div><div>That same day on facebook, a friend posted an article about red dye. The way she described her child sounded a lot like Rio. And then another unrelated friend posted anther thing about red dye. On the same day. And then I thought back to when we first noticed the behavior: when she was sick and we were pumping her full of medicine loaded with red dyes. Hmmm. And it was followed shortly after by us letting the girls pick their cereal, the colorful, dye-filled kind. I decided this needed investigating. I'm not good with food. I just don't know what's in everything and what defines healthy and all that just overwhelms me. So to cut out something, red dye, overwhelmed me immensely. But I decided to give it a try if it would maybe help. So we cut out red dye, which is not too drastic, but still not easy. </div><div><br></div><div>And the effects were immediate. </div><div><br></div><div>So, crazy. </div><div><br></div><div>She was back to her 3 year old, spunky self. Without the flip-out episodes. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm still kind of amazed. God totally revealing something so helpful to me in a really simple way. Him caring about the things that matter to me. Him providing what was needed for my child. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So, don't give my kid a cupcake. </span></div><div><br></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-8863526404521524842014-12-08T19:56:00.001-08:002014-12-08T21:41:13.257-08:00Breastfeeding, Bottles, and Swallowing My Pride<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Disclaimer, I really don't think my choices are better than anyone else's. I had natural labors, but that doesn't mean I believe that's the "right" way. You wanna schedule that C-section, that's your business. I like to wrap my baby. You use a stroller, cool. I'm telling about my experiences, so don't think I'm declaring my way is the right way. I'm not. It's what was right for me. You do what's right for you. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Anyways...</div><div><br></div><div>I loved breast feeding both Taylor and Rio. Don't get me wrong. It was hard, and I had to fight for it. But it was worth it. It helped me in bonding with them. I absolutely loved that only I could give them what they needed. They were completely dependent on me, their mommy. </div><div><br></div><div>I was able to nurse Taylor a year and Rio 9 months. There were times with both girls where I had to really fight to keep it going by pumping and taking non FDA approved medication, but fight I did. </div><div><br></div><div>So this my third time around, I was soooo excited. I thought this would be super easy since it was number 3. I planned to nurse by demand feeding, meaning I'd let her nurse all the time, whenever she fussed at all. Well, she was born, and nursed right away. Hooray. </div><div><br></div><div>She didn't seem to be a very hungry baby. I would have to wake her up to feed to get my supply up, but after trying everything, she would not eat unless she decided to. Once in the first few days, she went 9 hours refusing to nurse. I was a nervous wreck. Walking around with her trying every thing I could think to get her to nurse. Sobbing. Pleading. Finally she gave in and ate. She seemed to latch on fine once she ate, and she nursed the normal amount of time at each feeding. She wasn't too fussy until night time. </div><div><br></div><div>Then she would cry and cry and, I'd have to wait her out until she would finally fall asleep. I assumed it was just her fussy time of day. Then I go in for her 2 week check-up. She has not made it back to her birth weight. Okay. We can fix this. I will try getting her to nurse more. </div><div><br></div><div>I borrowed a scale to weigh her during feedings and see how much she was taking in. The first time I did it, she nursed an hour and only took in an ounce total. She was casually sucking. I panicked. At each feeding, she wasn't getting enough. I frantically started pumping and supplementing, but it wasn't helping my supply. I was worried constantly that every cry meant she was hungry. I was feeding her, supplementing, pumping, and then doing it all over again. I did that for two weeks, but she still wasn't getting enough. I finally decided I can't keep this up. My other children are being neglected while I'm spending all this time pumping. I was devastated. But I knew when I was beat. So, I made the switch to just formula. </div><div><br></div><div>After a week, I had a new baby. And I knew I had made the right decision. She was happier and sleeping better and gaining weight. </div><div><br></div><div>But the guilt. And the grief. I mourned not being able to nurse her. I wanted to so badly. Grief would strike me out of nowhere and make me so sad. And I made myself feel so guilty. </div><div><br></div><div>My pride. Oh my pride. I also was ashamed that I wasn't nursing. When anyone would see me feeding her a bottle, I immediately felt the need to explain everything, because I didn't want them to judge me for feeding my baby formula, because I was judging me for feeding my baby formula. </div><div><br></div><div>There it is. Boom. Heart revealed. I did think my way was better. How silly of me. Bottle or breast, my baby was getting fed. I do think it's so awesome how God made us able to feed our babies straight from us. But that's not always the best or even possible way for everyone. And that's okay. I could never know all the circumstances that play into a mom making the decision about how to feed her baby. So what would give me the right to pass judgement. </div><div><br></div><div>So, now I say, "Momma, you do what's best for your baby. I'll do what's best for mine." I'm just thankful that such a thing as formula exists. </div><div><br></div><div>And I'll do my best to stop feeling the need to explain myself. </div><div><br></div><div>Breast is best. </div><div><br></div><div>Except when it's not. </div><div><br></div><div>These are the only photos I have of our short-lived breast feeding experience. I will cherish them. But I'll also cherish feeding my baby with that bottle. </div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1V7Xa5FUlbNhfkSbWKCV7X1AoFeDSHfx0_4wjYlp_bp5Ng0Vu-d0RflTqANk6_jhW8HiDvYHSPZNJQDO_lIdZ00GpT8CvEdpAWJNF5Lr92e7Hd8fdf2mXhVYDUUdzUekWCjFeIQxxj9Z/s640/blogger-image--347892164.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1V7Xa5FUlbNhfkSbWKCV7X1AoFeDSHfx0_4wjYlp_bp5Ng0Vu-d0RflTqANk6_jhW8HiDvYHSPZNJQDO_lIdZ00GpT8CvEdpAWJNF5Lr92e7Hd8fdf2mXhVYDUUdzUekWCjFeIQxxj9Z/s640/blogger-image--347892164.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpgAYSG758_frpxSA__TSqvrTpmVHTH_FOd57idjura0y-vMPvvvNF12rBQmwJbBE2_DSSfZV301A_z9ImWhlL67LH4d2NhVi5KGitPtSirRbdehBG9gwdW9nE8sPwab83z-Hag-7zd4o/s640/blogger-image-1832181268.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpgAYSG758_frpxSA__TSqvrTpmVHTH_FOd57idjura0y-vMPvvvNF12rBQmwJbBE2_DSSfZV301A_z9ImWhlL67LH4d2NhVi5KGitPtSirRbdehBG9gwdW9nE8sPwab83z-Hag-7zd4o/s640/blogger-image-1832181268.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-49165315310369641802014-12-08T19:51:00.001-08:002014-12-09T10:30:37.032-08:00Willow Drew at Two Months<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihAQ4tBJxzxW3pKxdc-20DiT3ZlFHu5okt9fU16Crbp0jxNebCsJonU2Xeqsm4Q_SKRYwxPK2rQWJ1Qspfo3LsafIM7lViZtXbljCRw-uxj1hUbFcGgaZBvtSfUG3DWXUa_u-Aog0mg5yL/s640/blogger-image-1198775983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihAQ4tBJxzxW3pKxdc-20DiT3ZlFHu5okt9fU16Crbp0jxNebCsJonU2Xeqsm4Q_SKRYwxPK2rQWJ1Qspfo3LsafIM7lViZtXbljCRw-uxj1hUbFcGgaZBvtSfUG3DWXUa_u-Aog0mg5yL/s640/blogger-image-1198775983.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div>Dearest Willow Drew,<div><br></div><div>You are the sweetest baby. You are two months old now and so very precious. At your checkup, you weighed 10.10 and were 24 inches long. That puts you in the 40th percentile for both, which is a record for one of my petite babies. Way to go, Sugar. You usually only wake up once at night, take a bottle, and go right back to sleep. Best baby. You've been sleeping in your own bed since 7 weeks old. You and I slept on the couch for the first 5 weeks, then moved into the bed once you were better at turning your head. You've almost always slept on your belly, which is why we were on the firmer couch. You were not the greatest napper unless mommy was holding you or wrapping you, and then you slept great. Right at 2 months old, I realized you were not enjoying being rocked to sleep anymore. You were fussing and having a hard time getting comfortable on me. So I put you in your bed just to see what you'd do. In 5 minutes of quiet fussing, you fell right to sleep. I thought it must be a fluke, but it happened again the next night. Then I tried it at naptime, and surprisingly, you fell asleep again on your own. This is a strange new development that I'm not too sure I like all that much. It is very helpful, but I am sad to miss all those snuggles. Don't worry, I will still wrap you whenever I can because you do still love it. I love wrapping you, and you love it too. As soon as I get you all wrapped tight, you instantly relax and snuggle. Best ever. </div><div><br></div><div>You are such a happy baby. As soon as you make eye contact with anyone, mommy especially, you grin and grin and grin. You will coo and talk my ears off as long as I hold your gaze. Your eyes, pretty and blue like your sisters, are bright and wide when you are awake. </div><div><br></div><div>Oh, and you adore your sisters. If they are in sight, you are focused on them. All I do is put you in your bouncer on the floor, and you are entertained just by watching sisters run around playing. They are always asking to hold you and hug and kiss you. Rio affectionately calls you "new baby". And they both copy whatever mommy does to you. I fake pinch your cheeks and make a kiss noise, they do too. It is an extra joy getting to watch how much they love you, kid. You are lucky to have them as your big sisters. (Don't do what Rio tells you, though she means well.)</div><div><br></div><div>No one needs to remind me to cherish every moment, because I'm doing that just fine on my own. Every. Moment. </div><div><br></div><div>You're my favorite Willow. (Just so no one thinks I'm playing favorites. I also say "you're my favorite Taylor. And "you're my favorite River Jane. Notice the lack of comma before the names. đ)</div><div><br></div><div>You are a gift. </div><div><br></div><div>Love always,</div><div>Mommy</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-41526010031493108452014-10-21T13:18:00.001-07:002014-10-21T16:16:36.671-07:00Willow Drew Owen's Birth Story<p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCBPrSjPZlCFA9AxIZ8bTeYpyT64Cv_EIHuLbvWf2jqfPYj8iYwJH5cI3w-7ZZFkxibUISZ6fi1lk71wgeECigaF35oTXdFOYH-ylTV4UZKZZdoFpAYZPJtUwSy3ALZi-9l5E62cmd7Ro2/s640/blogger-image-1263602877.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCBPrSjPZlCFA9AxIZ8bTeYpyT64Cv_EIHuLbvWf2jqfPYj8iYwJH5cI3w-7ZZFkxibUISZ6fi1lk71wgeECigaF35oTXdFOYH-ylTV4UZKZZdoFpAYZPJtUwSy3ALZi-9l5E62cmd7Ro2/s640/blogger-image-1263602877.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This is my first time blogging in forever, I mean forever. I just wanted to document the birth of Willow. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This will be long and graphic, fair warning. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So here goesâŚ</span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I have been dreaming about this birth since the first moment I found out I was pregnant, literally. I loved my other two births and could not wait to do it all over again. I quickly contacted Rachel, the doula that helped with River Janeâs birth, because I desperately wanted her again. Score, she was available!</span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2">Hereâs a little background to this birth. I got back in shape before getting pregnant this time around, because a) I wanted to and b) I hoped it would benefit being pregnant. Wrong. Being pregnant the third time around was much more difficult than I anticipated. I was sicker the first trimester, tired almost the entire time, achy and painful anytime I slept, and I felt like my bottom would fall out at any second. </span><span class="s2">Graphic, but true.</span><span class="s2"> </span><span class="s2">I loved being pregnant</span><span class="s2">, </span><span class="s2">donât get me wrong</span><span class="s2">. Nothing compares to feeling that tiny baby moving around inside oneâs tummy. I was always judgy when women would complain their whole pregnancy, but </span><span class="s2">this time around I totally understood why women felt that way. Pregnancy is hard. And this is coming from me, when my pregnancy really wasnât that hard. AnywaysâŚ</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2">I naively thought that maybe the baby would come earlier since this was my third birth. I had my hospital bag packed weeks before my due date. Fool. This time we decided not to find out the sex of the baby, just to add a little mystery to it all. We took awhile but finally narrowed it down to one girl name and one boy name. So, week 40 came and passed by yet again</span><span class="s2"> (as it did with my other two births)</span><span class="s2">. </span><span class="s2">I wanted a natural birth again, so I was willing to wait as long as possible to minimize interventions. </span><span class="s2">My doctor</span><span class="s2">âs</span><span class="s2"> office </span><span class="s2">only wanted me to go to 42 weeks, so I bega</span><span class="s2">n to get a littl</span><span class="s2">e nervous. The </span><span class="s2">42 week</span><span class="s2"> date got closer and closer and my doctor mentioned scheduling inducting, and I have to admit, it freaked me out. I knew that was the next step, but still it really freaked me out. I called Rachel in tears because I felt like I h</span><span class="s2">ad no control of my birth. I kne</span><span class="s2">w I really </span><span class="s2">didnât</span><span class="s2"> have control; God </span><span class="s2">is completely in control and had</span><span class="s2"> sovereignly planned this birth. I mean I felt like my doctor wasnât giving me any control. After talking to Rachel, I felt much better about the possibility of an induction. </span><span class="s2">She informed me she was great at inductions with natural labor.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2">Friday, the 3</span><span class="s3" style="vertical-align: super;">rd</span><span class="s2"> of October came, and we arrived at the hospital </span><span class="s2">at 6:00 am </span><span class="s2">bright and early for my induction. It felt so weird arriving at the hospital when I wasnât having any contractions. Usually they break your water and then start the pitocin, but I talked to Dr. Mac and he agreed to let me keep my water intact. Having my bag of water intact really helped manage the pain for the other births. (It didn't get broken until baby was coming out, FYI, so that was cool). They hooked </span><span class="s2">me up to an IV </span><span class="s2">at 7:00 am </span><span class="s2">and began the dreaded Pitocin. I had imagined Pitocin was thick and black and that I would be able to feel it creeping into my skin. Oh, and that it was evil. Thankfully, I was wrong.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2">They started me out at 8 (insert measurement) of Pitocin. My doc had assured me Iâd be able to at least walk around the room while hooked up to the Pitocin. One of my fears was that</span><span class="s2"> Iâd be trapped in the bed the whole time. I knew I couldnât handle </span><span class="s2">natural </span><span class="s2">labor while trapped in the bed. So, I began my slow walk around the room pulling my Pitocin behind me.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2"><br></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6zN270swErzOQxll1PQR_OJfpy6zgWiBJP9U6DzrYpMISzm6XV7hgoxErj1Msvcsq_uZpglamsgnS3DeWYMAyDUSmtXA_jdK7lPezqDAcx79PG0XgMQTrgbIu9g8qxTTX5alkM8HnSmYH/s640/blogger-image-267913603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6zN270swErzOQxll1PQR_OJfpy6zgWiBJP9U6DzrYpMISzm6XV7hgoxErj1Msvcsq_uZpglamsgnS3DeWYMAyDUSmtXA_jdK7lPezqDAcx79PG0XgMQTrgbIu9g8qxTTX5alkM8HnSmYH/s640/blogger-image-267913603.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhYXc_Lpvi5FFhYXtHX9EwnsXAGnYKmyQ9zyaDXLG9HWJPrpFNrM_CZPTl3x3d1Qr28zU_LKPPp3kG19y1SXQM6XD0WeZywUUyHc1qrCrhHRxD1e8_3a-llObBzQcSQhBpWsA-M1JkwZW/s640/blogger-image--438281137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhYXc_Lpvi5FFhYXtHX9EwnsXAGnYKmyQ9zyaDXLG9HWJPrpFNrM_CZPTl3x3d1Qr28zU_LKPPp3kG19y1SXQM6XD0WeZywUUyHc1qrCrhHRxD1e8_3a-llObBzQcSQhBpWsA-M1JkwZW/s640/blogger-image--438281137.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Contractions started right away, but they didnât really hurt yet. They actually felt good. I had been craving contractions for so long, finally </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">having them felt wonderful. I was able to still walk through them and occasionally rock when necessary. I bounced on the ball when I needed a walking break. </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpbXbRGUv5nzTfmO4gJ0NdgGU9urlwxuPvhHYZ43z2TCp2xPR2ykQp_E74d4Gx_iCrJGOj_xXiZ_gcNvG4CupzqKXK91IiJF0wMH5JsZN0TJyDoWyVF4sz-Wtzf003f8tevq9TRMxb79Uw/s640/blogger-image-977508137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpbXbRGUv5nzTfmO4gJ0NdgGU9urlwxuPvhHYZ43z2TCp2xPR2ykQp_E74d4Gx_iCrJGOj_xXiZ_gcNvG4CupzqKXK91IiJF0wMH5JsZN0TJyDoWyVF4sz-Wtzf003f8tevq9TRMxb79Uw/s640/blogger-image-977508137.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">My doc came to check me a little after 12 pm, and he announced my dilation. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">3, maybe 4 centimeters.</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I was crushed. It had been 5 hours, and I was only dilated 3 or 4. Dr. Mac and Rachel could clearly see that I felt defeated. They explained that getting to 3 or 4 would </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">be the longest part, and that it</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> should go faster now. Also, baby had been way high, like still floating around when I got there but had dropped down to -2. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">He/She</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> was moving into the birth canal, so that would speed things up. I thought they were just saying that to make me feel better. Rachel talked to me about </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">having the right attitude. When a contraction would come, instead of starting </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">each contraction </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">with âoh noâ, to greet each contraction with âthis is helping baby get hereâ. So, they bumped my Pitocin up to 10 (</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">whatevers</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">) and the contractions immediately got stronger. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Rachel wanted me to remain upright to aid baby in sliding down and cause me to dilate more. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I had</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> to</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> hold ont</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">o Jonathan and moan through contractions</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> now. Right before one would start, I would try and smile, take a deep breath, and welcome the contraction. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I labored a little on the potty, slow danced with Jonathan, and sat on the edge of the bed. I would hold tightly onto Jonathanâs arm and burrow my face into his arm for each contraction.</span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLs5DP04Vn5e-85VxxyWiD2vXEds8024gXjUnyrvIRO3wdkHvZc7EpNYnOsHQlnQ82dP-H3M5BU7BKNqSWn-roLBkkVHE1KfLBk10OXIwoTbdcgeCxP6hoOo_pHaLZEGfTd0GdrpstJcmd/s640/blogger-image-1666462204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLs5DP04Vn5e-85VxxyWiD2vXEds8024gXjUnyrvIRO3wdkHvZc7EpNYnOsHQlnQ82dP-H3M5BU7BKNqSWn-roLBkkVHE1KfLBk10OXIwoTbdcgeCxP6hoOo_pHaLZEGfTd0GdrpstJcmd/s640/blogger-image-1666462204.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglui_jIs1HD9lT2JTJnfVlSeAx6wNxcdssnSrIuD2x0wgn8WEqBYRkfSMWiUUOLtojMMCXn5hyy_Culb3whqoU7CtHgkoIwLRENFAHtXIz3f88UlpXvQMU_01J3l2OjbKqfDR6r0nv0p0B/s640/blogger-image--1535042505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglui_jIs1HD9lT2JTJnfVlSeAx6wNxcdssnSrIuD2x0wgn8WEqBYRkfSMWiUUOLtojMMCXn5hyy_Culb3whqoU7CtHgkoIwLRENFAHtXIz3f88UlpXvQMU_01J3l2OjbKqfDR6r0nv0p0B/s640/blogger-image--1535042505.jpg"></a></div><br></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">They were getting to be really strong and difficult. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I even told Jonathan no more being funny; it was starting to annoy me. </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4XIuft6HSvdbPn7ODoWU-AS1jNehp1uYQsibSNRVw46D7rTEzG13Rqx5Tgk4p_5TkcgDRETVojpCv8LxMVkclPJGhNyis3cO5ULzncT0QDlDmynuBQO1eZip0WZq4Vjh6cJpmBUnuuI2/s640/blogger-image-1577234049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4XIuft6HSvdbPn7ODoWU-AS1jNehp1uYQsibSNRVw46D7rTEzG13Rqx5Tgk4p_5TkcgDRETVojpCv8LxMVkclPJGhNyis3cO5ULzncT0QDlDmynuBQO1eZip0WZq4Vjh6cJpmBUnuuI2/s640/blogger-image-1577234049.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I was so exhausted after each one, I just felt like going to sleep. They were intense. I cried a little at how tired I was. Apparently Rachel knew I was probably in transition, but didnât tell me. I didnât know how to gauge the contractions, since I was on Pitocin. I thought I had a long way to go, so I felt so sad.</span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2">I was sitting on the edge of the bed, moaning loudly throu</span><span class="s2">gh a really strong contraction, when I felt something strong, and yelled out, âWhat was that</span><span class="s2">?!</span><span class="s2">â Rachel said it was probably the baby connecting with my cervix. I realized that it felt like the baby had slid down. Awesome. I told Rachel I had to change positions, that sitting on the bed wasnât working for me anymore. So she suggested a new position to rest a bit. Ha </span><span class="s2">ha</span><span class="s2">. What a joker. Rest.</span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2">She had me lie on my side and put the peanut balls between my legs. I HATED it. I frantically grabbed the sides of the bed during the few contractions I had to endure in that position. I yelled at Rachel, âI hate this thing! I donât </span><span class="s2">wanna</span><span class="s2"> use it anymore.â </span><span class="s2">She later informed me that this was a distraction position</span><span class="s2"> while she sneakily checked me</span><span class="s2">. Again, I hated it. Jonathan said she realized I was really close, so she quickly called the nurse to tell them to get in there. Rachel then had me change positions. She had me get on my knees, reach over the top of the bed, and grab the back of it. This was very helpful. </span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2"><br></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2">At this point I was in my deliriously crazy stage. Screaming loudly, panicking, gripping the bed for dear life, unable to understand what Rachel was trying to tell me. She was right in my face trying to get me to breath slower and yell lower. </span><span class="s2">I remember saying, âI donât know what you are saying.â Once I finally understood what she was saying, I did my best to get control of my breathing. All of a sudden I felt the pressure. The pressure that told me it was time to push. I scream</span><span class="s2">ed</span><span class="s2"> out, âThe baby is coming!â In my head, I still thought that Rachel didnât believe that I was so far along. When in reality, she had already got the doctor and nurses in the room. Dr. Mac checked me to make sure I was dilated all the way before they wanted me to push. Rachel came</span><span class="s2"> and got in my face (cause thatâs the only way I would listen)</span><span class="s2"> and told me that I was ready to push, and that I probably wanted to turn around so that I could actually see the baby being born. I was scared and panicked and screamed, âI canât move! I canât turn around! I canât move!â And then another strong contraction hit me and more panic. The doc told them it was now or never for me to turn around. So, Rachel gently </span><span class="s2">grabbed my arm and leg and âtrickedâ me into turning around quickly. Iâm so glad she did. Once I was sitting up on my backside, I felt great. Dr. Mac said okay push whenever you want. They were trying to set the mirror up for me to see while I pushed, but the lady holding the mirror turned it the wrong way. I angrily screamed, âI canât see anything!â Jonathan said I also screamed, âDonât you know how to use a mirror!â Whoops. I thought that I had only thought that last one. I push</span><span class="s2">ed</span><span class="s2"> twice, I think, and out came the</span><span class="s2"> head. One more push and baby was out all the way. Pushing felt </span><span class="s2">so great after all those intense contractions. Once baby was out, I immediately felt so much better. I did it! Victory! Hoorah! </span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2"><br></span></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s2"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-ElSXssTjb_PaPlQGjff2BKtOREbo_Oh2oMl_ymxKDbt4kVEMVi444YzLd7hvla3XEPeMe7x2ddMX34_yDAES3Ep-2CONJVNTkcO5NbyiewSjtmV1YhMTEbAks4lfYwiba8gtgX_eRSh/s640/blogger-image-1000448502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-ElSXssTjb_PaPlQGjff2BKtOREbo_Oh2oMl_ymxKDbt4kVEMVi444YzLd7hvla3XEPeMe7x2ddMX34_yDAES3Ep-2CONJVNTkcO5NbyiewSjtmV1YhMTEbAks4lfYwiba8gtgX_eRSh/s640/blogger-image-1000448502.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">They gave my baby girl to me right away and I was overjoyed. She was finally here! </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Once everything was all cleaned up, I nursed her for the first time. Wonderful. So very wonderful! </span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwrgJiNhyphenhyphenDKYp4Gq-xnz4dU2doZISJNaxUGs74Vc4hzQpdkbN_F3diYWSyCWovCh-_CTLMbcdvPs7-pzdL3WEVNKc0VbGsEtBGcVd8Vqu0z2B3f9sBqyUatnIE0HNDkJTNWaCaEm6aLM9/s640/blogger-image--20265226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwrgJiNhyphenhyphenDKYp4Gq-xnz4dU2doZISJNaxUGs74Vc4hzQpdkbN_F3diYWSyCWovCh-_CTLMbcdvPs7-pzdL3WEVNKc0VbGsEtBGcVd8Vqu0z2B3f9sBqyUatnIE0HNDkJTNWaCaEm6aLM9/s640/blogger-image--20265226.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrJ32LToAJBDuw1G7pGkyGjQj4CW73X5wZ4cjY0wWZLMSyj4PIKSEZ5nfQ-IWRJdqAI7HLxTThc2yAVj7haIF0vxNTU3nE2SG_VRtxm5EUUM7yxMLTTcGiyvSKcoXO-uNTyb0lBkW1-Bgb/s640/blogger-image--400855121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrJ32LToAJBDuw1G7pGkyGjQj4CW73X5wZ4cjY0wWZLMSyj4PIKSEZ5nfQ-IWRJdqAI7HLxTThc2yAVj7haIF0vxNTU3nE2SG_VRtxm5EUUM7yxMLTTcGiyvSKcoXO-uNTyb0lBkW1-Bgb/s640/blogger-image--400855121.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-LQuJvrq_n1lJNqlQWe-Wg6e0k-eOJENfvHDdkndA8bK-YqPsWNME3idpm8BdBEoUqaHsfZzyVy299hZqJgUA8Xq67LJ2WpiVJGZUGwIdznsRjQc_pi6FHf8gSUv4LNlvPmg70fdzjzAl/s640/blogger-image--99187947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-LQuJvrq_n1lJNqlQWe-Wg6e0k-eOJENfvHDdkndA8bK-YqPsWNME3idpm8BdBEoUqaHsfZzyVy299hZqJgUA8Xq67LJ2WpiVJGZUGwIdznsRjQc_pi6FHf8gSUv4LNlvPmg70fdzjzAl/s640/blogger-image--99187947.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglHuCk5Up1tJbI5GHBl3HO7x6D5anH8Xf5Hs64PLLY26DZrtAv0a6yia5HBu2WrfmkcFDm_7St1sM2q0mUryzbDGKum6FbT6hCY1K_U3pqJmz-gJD6FN4cD-NBQlpvITihdhN3GWBO2fXT/s640/blogger-image-72923712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglHuCk5Up1tJbI5GHBl3HO7x6D5anH8Xf5Hs64PLLY26DZrtAv0a6yia5HBu2WrfmkcFDm_7St1sM2q0mUryzbDGKum6FbT6hCY1K_U3pqJmz-gJD6FN4cD-NBQlpvITihdhN3GWBO2fXT/s640/blogger-image-72923712.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SYgxndkAJwqTWUVqfZ-jZE4SohotUfMo0mWudOdMqxDHCQ3iJCZZpnyjr8bjN7cQtmrgINlsHkQw35tI81nJFEgrrciUJMTQI7RUSR3_6ssg0ZsRx6l4cT_sMuos9POSiVRw1cl8w1Jr/s640/blogger-image--933989549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SYgxndkAJwqTWUVqfZ-jZE4SohotUfMo0mWudOdMqxDHCQ3iJCZZpnyjr8bjN7cQtmrgINlsHkQw35tI81nJFEgrrciUJMTQI7RUSR3_6ssg0ZsRx6l4cT_sMuos9POSiVRw1cl8w1Jr/s640/blogger-image--933989549.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="s2" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Willow Drew Owen was born at 1:27 pm.</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I went from 3-4 cm to baby out in about an hour. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Rachel joked to the nurse that she knew I was in transition, but didnât know that transition was only going to last five minutes. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It was a very intense</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> and painful</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">hour,</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> so glad it was so fast. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I canât believe how great it went. I was terrified of the Pitocin not working o</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">n me, but it worked wonderfully and got that baby out in 6 ½ hours. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I am so thankful that I was able to have the birth that I had wanted. It was a wonderful </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">wonderful</span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> birth. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Jonathan was fabulously patient and calm and strong. Rachel did awesome again. She helped suggest things to progress my labor and to help me manage the pain. I could not have made it without the two of them. Dear Abby was also with us as the photographer. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So glad she got to share in this with us. </span><span class="s2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">All of the fantastic photos are hers.</span></p>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-78280675870363775742012-09-17T20:11:00.001-07:002012-09-17T20:17:10.223-07:00I Love...I feel like it's all happening so fast, this growing up thing. I don't want to forget. Any of if. Even the frustrating bits. You are a delight, Taylor. I love everything about you. I want to remember you as you are now, a sweet 2 and a couple of months. <br />
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I love the way you beg me to snuggle with you. I love the way you'll cup my face in your hands, look carefully at my face, and give me a kiss. I love the way you demand I "wait" when you want to do something on your own. I love when you're polite saying, "Thank you so much" or "You're welcome so much". I love the way you say "soary" when you make a mistake. I love when you tell me you're scared, and I get to comfort you. I love the way you express yourself using your eyes. I love when you sing along with me. I love how you say "me help" when you want to do it on your own. I love how you refer to your animals as either "nice and kind" or "mean". I love how you squeeze Rio's face with love. I love that you love wrestling on the bed. I love that you always request "story time". I love that you say "whop em" for you're welcome. I love that you want to know new people's names. I love when you are a servant and offer others whatever you are having. I love how you say "ouch" when Rio is bothering you. I love how a soft blanket makes your fingers go in your mouth. I love that you show concern for others, especially when they are hurt. I love telling you about God. I love when you are shy. I love when you are brave. I love when you ask to pray for others. I love your hair. I love when you ask questions. I love how you protect Rio. I love that you always want to help. I love how you watch people. I love when you climb in my lap for a hug. I love watching you figure stuff out. I love when you make your thinking face. I love to hear you tell me you love me. I love dancing with you. I love all my moments with you, my sweet daughter. I pray I cherish and make the most of the time I'm given with you. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPyFKdcYDjz1DSzVOP2zC1q30Gsx_ft-3gXoOf3UephZ258J44_znvEXm-hnkxyii-3GOHSIaGaWKcusx1f9pwnA_kG-y4HVoCbk5NBCbjmKKsareaDUr76TuNCzN9JQZNKwtz07YklL-/s640/blogger-image-1317190778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPyFKdcYDjz1DSzVOP2zC1q30Gsx_ft-3gXoOf3UephZ258J44_znvEXm-hnkxyii-3GOHSIaGaWKcusx1f9pwnA_kG-y4HVoCbk5NBCbjmKKsareaDUr76TuNCzN9JQZNKwtz07YklL-/s640/blogger-image-1317190778.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-12014354041498468282012-07-08T22:34:00.000-07:002012-07-08T22:34:21.749-07:00River Jane's Birth Story<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, River Jane just turned 6 months old, and I am just now getting around to writing her birth story (insert image of me hanging my head in shame). </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But, since I did all that work, you know, birthing a baby and all, this post needs to happen. I also figure she will feel cheated since I wrote one for Taylor.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As all birth stories go, there will be details about a birth. So, it might be a little more than you want. Do not read on from here if you can't handle the details. I warned you.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here it goes:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We found out we were pregnant right before Mother's Day, so we decided to wait to tell our family on Mother's Day and make it all special. They were extremely excited of course. The due date was January 2nd, so I knew that was going to make for an interesting and crazy time with our anniversary, Christmas, my birthday, and New Years all happening around then. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We found out we were having another girl; I knew it. I can totally see us as an all-girl family. Don't get me wrong, a boy would be fun, but I'm glad it was a she. I was so excited about Taylor and baby girl #2 being so close in age. They are 18 months apart, so I pray they are best friends. Sisters. Wonderful.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The pregnancy went great with no problems, thank you, Lord. I don't take that for granted; I am so thankful for that. I gained around 25 pounds, like with Taylor. I was a little more uncomfortable this time around, just with having another small child to care for. I was exhausted a lot, so I did a lot of napping when Taylor napped. I also wasn't where I needed to be physically before getting pregnant, so I think the lack of exercise played into me being more uncomfortable. I wasn't as comfortable being big this time around either. I felt more insecure and just full out large all over. Baby #2 I guess. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">December rolls around and we still haven't decided on a name; I knew we'd figure it out eventually. Not having a name isn't fun for other people. Everyone asks, and I just started giving a standard answer, "We have two names and we are going to pick when we see her. It will be a surprise." That's hard for people to handle, I get it. Our two names were Emma and River. For both names we liked the middle name Jane. We liked Emma a lot, but we also liked River because it was different. Jonathan loved River Jane. I loved it too, but I had a hard time with it, because I was worried about her hating it later on in life. I found the name on a blog. They actually were naming their baby River June, but I switched it to River Jane. Anyways, two names, River Jane or Emma Jane: to be decided at birth. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was a little stressful for me with all the unknown. There were so many little events coming up, so many things happening. Waiting on a baby was difficult for me. We were also having the Owens' down for Christmas, so I felt pressure (not from anyone) to have the baby before or during their visit. It was hard trying to make plans for Taylor and our holidays not knowing when a baby was arriving. I know I sound silly, but I'm documenting how I felt. It's my blog, and I'll cry if I want to. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I wasn't counting on baby girl #2 coming early. I was preparing myself for way after the due date, like with Taylor. But still every day, I would think, maybe it's today. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I had a few Braxton Hicks contractions earlier in the pregnancy, just a few times, but not enough to do anything. On New Years Day I started having some stronger Braxton Hick's. They were sporadic, but strong. I would have a couple then none for a few hours. Then a couple more, then none for a few hours. Jonathan and I went to a movie by ourselves (me having a hard time focusing due to contractions), while the Owens watched Taylor. I remember secretly thinking they were real contractions, but not allowing myself to believe or get excited. I especially didn't want to tell anyone, not even Jonathan, for fear of getting everyone's hopes up and then crushing them. I felt like everyone was just watching me, waiting. So much pressure. I really wanted to have her before the Owen's had to leave. I would have felt horrible if they missed another birth. I finally told Jonathan that I was having Braxton Hicks, but I totally downplayed it to him, so he didn't even think anything. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next day, January 2nd, the due date, I was still having contractions, but they were so sporadic. 3 really strong ones, then nothing for hours. 4 more, then nada. In the evening they were the strongest; I even had to rock and breathe through some of them. It was funny because I didn't want anyone (besides Jonathan) to know, so I did my best to mask my discomfort. I went to bed early, because I was uncomfortable. They were pretty strong. This time around, I knew better what to expect, so I think I had a better handle on the pain. I was in bed, rocking my hips through the contractions, and I decided to start timing them. But those silly things would not get regular in length or in time between each. I thought I was in labor, but I was waiting it out as long as I could. I contacted my doula, Rachel, to ask her advice. She talked to Jonathan, and based on how I didn't appear to be in a lot of pain, he didn't really think I was far yet. But I felt like I was in labor, and I decided it was time to go. Like I said earlier, I think I just had a better handle on my pain. P.S. The rocking of my hips worked well for awhile, but it was starting to get beyond that, so I thought I was ready to go. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was scared, scared that I was about to wake everybody up, get their hopes up, go to the hospital, and then, nope, you are not in labor. I would have felt a sense of failure. I finally let Jonathan tell his family that we were headed to the hospital, and I alerted mine as well. I remember someone trying to hug me in all that, and I held my hand up, and left the room. I was in labor; don't touch me unless you are asked. Insert winky face. But for real. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Side note: Every night before the baby was born, I remember holding Taylor and rocking her and just cherishing those last moments of her as an only child. It was kinda sad. (But of course so happy as well).</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Jonathan and I headed out, grabbed some fast food, and off to the hospital we went. I talked to the on-call doctor and Rachel to let them know we were heading to the hospital. In the car on the way, I had like one small contraction. Stink. I immediately began doubting that this was the real thing. I felt sick at the thought of having to go back home with a false alarm. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We arrived at the hospital around 5:45 am on the 3rd. Rachel arrived shortly after. We were supposed to get the tub room, but it wasn't working. We were also supposed to get an inflatable tub, but they were out of liners. What?! Come on, Brookwood, you let me down. I just wanted the tub for the labor part, not the birth. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxOORdwUzgS3cuhl-IVRlY4JCJahm2x6aMNm8EBYNg5-YhIGMgQJA1JiSltKwlfdJvJwd-rOVDtiiDZlyfgCel4QvOggkaYlccqJE7Cblt5gUyPDOCAaGCdUie-XF0qsVy1_jCoS_fgrA/s1600/IMG_3008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxOORdwUzgS3cuhl-IVRlY4JCJahm2x6aMNm8EBYNg5-YhIGMgQJA1JiSltKwlfdJvJwd-rOVDtiiDZlyfgCel4QvOggkaYlccqJE7Cblt5gUyPDOCAaGCdUie-XF0qsVy1_jCoS_fgrA/s320/IMG_3008.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rachel being goofy. </td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I got my fancy hospital gown on and got ready to be checked. I had only had like 2 contractions since leaving the house. I was so prepared to hear false alarm, but what do ya know, I was already 6-7 centimeters! Thank you, Lord! This was the real deal. We called our photog, Miss Haley Richter and told her to get on up there. As soon as I was allowed, I started walking around. I walked for awhile around the empty halls, and then went back in for them to monitor the heartbeat. There were a few decels (is that right?) so they wanted me strapped to a monitor. We walked some more and danced during contractions. Rachel suggested some squats and different positions to help with the drop in heart rates. I think they helped, but since I still had some, they were wanting me to have my water broken to see if there was meconium in with the baby. They decided to break my water at 8 am. (There wasn't meconium in the waters for your info.) I was 8 centimeters. Just like last time, as soon as my water was broken, I felt the pain so much more. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Us walking the halls.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rachel suggested several things to help with the pain. I labored some on the toilet. I also sat on the birthing ball a lot and leaned over the side of the bed. When I was losing it several times, Rachel would bring me back. Bless her. I remember one time she had me pat my hand to her counting. I had such a hard time focusing on keeping with her rhythm. It helped me though. She was great. I was much more "here" for this birth. I remember it being more painful, but i think that's just because I was much more alert during all of it. Rachel managed to keep me focused and relatively calm. Several times I lost it. I think I even hit Jonathan some. I kept trying to touch Jonathan's skin during contractions. It calmed me. He was a fabulous partner of course. He is so patient and supportive and calm and great. I moaned a lot. Rachel would remind me to breathe and moan deep and breathe some more.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dancing.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I got to the point where I was starting to feel A LOT of pressure. It was really hurting. Rachel relieved some of the pressure by doing some magic thing where she pressed on my hips. It worked wonders. I could feel the baby sliding down...crazy. I had the strongest urge to push, but we didn't think I was at 10 yet. I finally requested they check me at 9:28 and victory! 10 centimeters! Time to push. I sat on the bed semi-upright and got my feet in those stirrups. Getting into the bed is the worst. I hate that part. It's so uncomfortable. Dr. Adcock came in and we were ready. I had already been bearing down, because I couldn't help it. It feels so much better to push. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My super awesome husband at work.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me pulling her up.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of my goals this time was to look down while I was pushing. With Taylor I was so scared that I kept my eyes closed. I also didn't want an episiotomy. They brought the mirror over so I could see what I was doing while I pushed. Let me tell you, that was so helpful. I could see action when I pushed, so I could push better. I pushed a couple times while they counted for me, and I started to see a head. Awesome. I pushed again, and the head came out, with a tear, oh well. There was my baby's head! Right there! I could see it in the mirror. Dr. Adcock had me reach down and grab the baby's head, and he let me pull her up onto my belly. He did this when I had Taylor as well, but I had my eyes closed shut the first time. It was such a wonderful feeling. All that hard work, and then I get to pull my baby up onto me. So incredible. I held her and cried and praised God. Our baby was here. She arrived at 9:38 am. I only pushed for under 10 minutes. I don't know how long I was technically in labor, because I don't know when it officially started. You could say 2 days, but I think I'll just say starting from when we got there, so 4 hours.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such an awesome moment. God is good.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They waited for the cord to stop, it didn't seem like it took very long at all, and then we did the rest of the delivery. I don't like that there is still stuff happening after the baby comes out. It annoys me, but I know God designed it just the way it's supposed to be. It felt like it took forever to stitch me up, I had two tears, but it didn't hurt as much this time. My legs were tired of being up and open though. I was so ready to just close them. I held her for a bit, then they took her to weigh. She was 7 lbs. 8 oz. and 19 3/4 inches. Our River Jane (we had already decided on the name, but we still kept it a secret). I got her back and River Jane immediately latched on and started nursing. Precious. I love that skin-to-skin time. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">River Jane Owen.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our sweet doctor praying with us after.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The team.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, there it is. The story of her birth. I am writing this 6 months later, so I may have missed some details. I did my best to remember everything. Thanks to our doula, Rachel, for an awesome job. She was such a great support and helper and encourager. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy's in love.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy and Rio.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are overjoyed with our sweet River Jane. She is a precious and snuggly baby, and we are so thankful. This birth was just as wonderful as Taylor's was, but I remember more. That means I remember more of the detailed pain, but that's okay. It's birth. It's going to be painful. But it is so worth it. I love natural birth. That's what was best for me. I highly recommend it. </span><br />
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</div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-59277576892323536952012-06-30T20:39:00.000-07:002012-06-30T20:51:13.582-07:00Treasured Two's<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dear Taylor,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Where to begin? I guess I should start by telling you Happy Birthday, so </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Happy Birthday to You.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">It's your Birthday, and you're two!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I sang that song to you all day on Monday, your actual birthday. I think you were wondering why. We didn't have your actual party until Saturday, so I'm not sure if you knew when your actual birthday was. Oh well. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You are such a special little girl. So, very special. Your Daddy and I talk about it all the time. It amazes us at how much love we feel towards you. I am trying so hard to get you to say, "I love you!" back to us. But you have never been much of a copier. You say it when you want to. I remind you that "we love because He first loved us." We talk about love a lot, especially in learning how we treat our baby sister. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Speaking of being a sister, I am so proud of the big sister that you are. You are the sweetest to your sister, Rio. I secretly watch you all the time and catch you taking care of her: giving her toys to play with, kissing her, entertaining her with your toys, helping her reach something out of her grasp, and even smiling sweetly at her to see her smile in return. When I leave the room for a second, I always say, "Can you watch Rio for me?" And you always take it so seriously and make sure to really do a good job. I love it. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I want to try and sum up your sweet little 2 year old personality as best I can: so I can remember it and hopefully so you can read it someday. Here goes:</span><br />
<br />
<ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You are full of life and joy. So happy. A sweet and gentle spirit.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I see instances of your servant heart. You always make sure to include everyone. For example, if you are eating, you make sure everyone else eats something to. Or when we are going somewhere you always make sure that no one gets left behind. "Rio go?" "Mommy go?" "Daddy go?"</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What a helper! You love to do little tasks that I give you throughout the day. And you love to help clean. And you love to help cook. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We've got a chatterer on our hands and I love it. You will ramble on using words you know and tell us all about whatever happened.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Your face is very expressive. You like to act out something that happened to you. It amazes us at the little things that leave an impact on you.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You love to play in our bed. You will say, "Shh shh" and smile really big when you want us to wrestle around in it. As soon as daddy gets home everyday, you immediately ask him to play on the bed. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You are not a copier. I will say words and try and get you to repeat them, but you say them on your own time. You are starting to say many more words and form sentences. So fun!</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Your excitement always makes us smile. You are very expressive when you are excited about something. You say, "ya ya" and do a little jig. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You love to go "lala" and dance around, but you mostly want a partner to dance with. One of your favorite things to sing is Dora the Explorer. "Hey hey" and "Aw man". </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You love a nice soft blanket. You must have multiple lovies to sleep with, your ugly doll pillow, and several babies or stuffed animals.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You are quick to accept discipline. We talk a lot about obedience and how it honors God. You know the word obey really well. If you are in need of a spanking during the day, mommy takes you calmly to your room, and we talk about it before she spanks. You are always quick to hug us right after we spank. And show us your happy heart. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You love to pray. You will get all excited and fold your hands and close your eyes during the whole prayer. We pray everyday that God would draw you to Him and reveal Himself to you. </span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some of your common phrases:</span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Ah me?" - Can I?</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Es go." - Let's go. Normally it's followed be mommy, daddy, rio, or issou.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Us dat." - What's that?</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"I eat." - Can I have some?</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Wee wee?" - Can I slide?</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"La la?" - Can we listen to music?</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Dohwa?" -Please, please can we watch Dora?</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Shhh shhh" - Let's go wrestle on the bed and pretend to sleep.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Wocka wocka" - I wanna rock in the chair and snuggle.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Huh?" - You say this when you don't know the answer or are thinking.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Nup." - I want a cup.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Pull." - You say this for push and pull and mostly when you strain</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Up." - Up means I want down and I want up.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Wawa." - You do the sign and say the word to ask for water.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Baph." - Can I get a bath?</span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We love you, little girl! I cannot wait to see the beautiful young lady that you grow into. May your heart continue to be sensitive to those around you, and may you come to know Jesus. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Love you,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mommy </span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-73844835064218967172012-05-23T21:05:00.000-07:002012-11-01T12:10:21.700-07:004 Months with You, Rio<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Dearest River Jane,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You are a delight, dear child, an absolute delight. It blows my mind how snuggly and lovey you are. You are a social baby, lighting up whenever you make eye-contact with anyone. But you still have your moods when only momma can calm you. I love that. I am so thankful for how much you adore being touched and kissed and snuggled. You will lie there while I kiss all over your face and just smile and smile, delighting in the physical touch. So precious. I get sad that I can't devote as much time to just stare at you, but I don't think you mind. Having a big sister will be a much bigger joy. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Here are a few of your special skills/facts:</span><br />
<br />
<ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You are fantastic at rolling over. It's no longer random and 'accidental'. You can control when you roll over and even the direction you roll. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You are a grabber. If anything gets anywhere near your line of sight, you get this wild look in your eye and attack. You especially love it when faces get close, so you can squeeze and kiss them.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You like to constantly be holding something in your hands, especially fingers. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You are getting stronger in the back area. You can now sit up okay in your bumbo. You don't last long because you dive forward trying to grab stuff off the counter. When you are focusing though, you can sit up very straight. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You recognize faces very well. You light up when you see mommy or daddy or when Taylor stops long enough to make eye contact with you. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Your voice is very expressive. You will chat with about anything, even the light fixture above the island. And when you get super excited, you emit this high-pitched squeal. So sweet.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You are finally getting good at napping. You take 2 longer naps and 1 short evening nap during the day. Mommy can now lay you down and you fall right to sleep. She enjoyed holding you for naps, but Taylor needed her attention as well. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Your night sleeping is pretty good. You go to sleep around 9 and wake up around 3, sometimes 4, to eat. You then go back to sleep until around 7. Mommy is ready for you to make it through the whole night. But looking back at Taylor's 4 month post, she realized that Taylor was the same way. You sleep in a pack and play in the guest bedroom for right now. Soon we hope to move you in with Taylor. What fun!</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You've been desiring to chew a lot lately. Some of your favorite items to chew are fingers (yours and others), Sophie the Giraffe (Taylor was kind enough to share), blankets, and basically any toy that is chewable. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mommy started carrying you in her woven wrap. You love being held so close, but she has to keep moving to keep you happy. You are like a little koala attached to me. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You are very ticklish on your neck and belly.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You give smiles freely. You do this cute thing where you smile and then tuck your head down like you can't even contain your joy. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You are very content to just sit in someone's lap and look up at them. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You enjoy playing on the floor with your play gym on your back and belly.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You still nurse well. I'm so glad we stuck it out. I can't nurse you well with a cover on, but that's okay. We make it work. </span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Our sweet 'Rio', 'Baby', River Jane, we all love you so much. Mommy delights in your sweet, snuggly personality. Daddy is already starting to have so much fun with you. You think he's pretty hilarious. And Taylor has accepted you as ours. She is protective of you, getting upset if she thinks someone is taking you away. She always makes sure you are included and that you don't get left behind. I love hearing her say, "hey baby" or "hey Rio" whenever she first sees you after a nap or absence. She is such a great big sister to you, and I pray you will be best friends soon. We are cherishing this exhausting, but perfectly sweet time that you are still an infant. It is such a short time. We thank God for the exact way that He made you, our sweet "Rio Rio". </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We love you,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Mommy, Daddy, and Taylor</span></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-81311025402531646492012-04-29T20:16:00.001-07:002012-04-29T20:22:04.728-07:00Meet RioRecently, Marge, a sweet missionary to Costa Rica called River Jane "Rio". for those of you who don't know, Rio means River in Spanish. <br />
<br />
I fell in love with it. <br />
<br />
It's now my favorite nickname for River Jane. And even better, Taylor calls her Rio too. But it sounds more like "wio". It's adorable. Adorable I tell you.<br />
<br />
Taylor had been calling River Jane "baby". That's cute and all but she calls every other baby "baby", including her baby dolls. Now we have something different that Taylor can say. <br />
<br />
Did I mention that I love it?!<br />
<br />
And just for fun, here's a pic of our sweet little Rio. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixQz5qc0OOgxdToqkK4pHWKrdb7SBe8QSBf6kjduw7NIi-Qp9pktP-ARB90iPodUcVunHp6XSy9uQDNglcKnhdkApCEgaTnOVi_mT4VOZaWOnGVtIj4C0vC1_oCPrTf7fRHfNYq7xjdEr7/s640/blogger-image-437439776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixQz5qc0OOgxdToqkK4pHWKrdb7SBe8QSBf6kjduw7NIi-Qp9pktP-ARB90iPodUcVunHp6XSy9uQDNglcKnhdkApCEgaTnOVi_mT4VOZaWOnGVtIj4C0vC1_oCPrTf7fRHfNYq7xjdEr7/s640/blogger-image-437439776.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-51027398636872269412012-04-29T19:53:00.001-07:002012-04-29T19:55:12.664-07:00A Little Truth for NowSo, I just speed-read the book "Loving the Little Years". Loved it, but I will need to read it again. One of the many parts that hit home with me was called "no need to count". <br />
<br />
Basically, it talks about when I'm up in the middle of the night with baby or sick toddler, why even look at the clock. I often tally my awake moments just so I can be certain about how much I gave. Poppycock. The book pointed out how I am up just when I need to be. Good to be reminded of that. <br />
<br />
Also, this verse was like gold. <br />
<br />
"Everyone to whom God has given wealth, and possessions, and the power to enjoy them, and to accept his lot and rejoice in his toil-this is the gift of God. For he will not much remember the days of his life because God keeps him occupied with joy in his heart." (Eccl. 5:19-20)<br />
<br />
To sum it up, a quote from the book.<br />
<br />
"The days of your life are supposed to be full of things like this. But joy is not giddy. It is not an emotional rush-it is what happens when you accept your lot and rejoice in your toil. So rejoice in your children. Look them in the eyes and give thanks. You will not even remember the work of all this planting when the harvest of joy overwhelms you."<br />
<br />
Even after I've picked up the same toy 9 times already and answered to my name being called 34 times by my gifts of God, I will rejoice in my toil. <br />
<br />
Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-28619418004004352422012-04-04T04:25:00.001-07:002012-04-04T04:34:27.839-07:00Big Girl BedWell, we did it. After months of dread and nervousness, we decided to put you in a toddler bed. <br />
<br />
We had been planning on doing it pretty soon, so that the crib would be open for River but you wouldn't feel like she pushed you out. But we needed a bed. <br />
<br />
I found one at kids market. You were so excited when you saw it, so we decided to just go for it that night. I didn't read up on what to do; we winged it. I'd heard the transition can be hard, so I was nervous. <br />
<br />
You did great! You went right to sleep. You did fall out twice, but it didn't hurt. The first time, I heard you fall and watched you just lie back down on the floor instead. So funny. Daddy put you back in bed. The second time you actually climbed back in bed yourself. <br />
<br />
Naptime was a little harder. You wanted to play more in the daylight. That's understandable. Mommy had to get on to you several times, but you finally settled in to sleep. It's hard for you to go back to sleep when you wake up too early because there's more distraction. <br />
<br />
The next night took you longer to get to sleep. You explored your options. Climbed out of bed, but only took two corrections to fix that. Pulled stuff off the shelf, but only had to tell you once. You also played with the tub of animals that mommy had put beside the bed to block you from falling. So, we took it away. And you fell out. Hard enough to make you cry, but after mommy and daddy both ran to your rescue, you were fine. <br />
<br />
Now on our 4th night, and you are a pro. We still put the tub of animals as a block to falling, and it's worked. You settle in well at naptime. Scout helps you by singing to you. When we put you to bed, you say "no" and pat your arm. We think you are reminding yourself to not get out of bed. Cute little rule follower. I think we are almost ready to remove the video monitor. <br />
<br />
You made this pretty easy, little girl. Thanks for being awesome. <br />
<br />
Mommy and Daddy had a hard time with this transition. It made you feel so grown-up. It was exciting, but at the same time so scary. We are proud of you, sweet girl. <br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57QytkdQi9daCy4QDeEK3GsEYzu1jTIPfqVWw2NeTyY_b-RM1-sSA2QVIzJTev8bizrazO6MaOyMtsj7x4kNFHKJGS7WntzGW40mHnUeHXbT2IRvg-XMvzZJrWfHrVkLqrn4Rjx2lGYNN/s640/blogger-image--180571231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57QytkdQi9daCy4QDeEK3GsEYzu1jTIPfqVWw2NeTyY_b-RM1-sSA2QVIzJTev8bizrazO6MaOyMtsj7x4kNFHKJGS7WntzGW40mHnUeHXbT2IRvg-XMvzZJrWfHrVkLqrn4Rjx2lGYNN/s640/blogger-image--180571231.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSysWmaSUsKAr6r6MjuPMoXhI8ll4HDJGJcsXWU5D5aBUjsGcuEEzrcJewMcN54TzsXN4pOcLafI6sbCh65hTLHd_84TjRqZRNWphtrOEJhlf9132JQXlH2sWWIXbabBxeG6m89plqHPkh/s640/blogger-image--2099422558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSysWmaSUsKAr6r6MjuPMoXhI8ll4HDJGJcsXWU5D5aBUjsGcuEEzrcJewMcN54TzsXN4pOcLafI6sbCh65hTLHd_84TjRqZRNWphtrOEJhlf9132JQXlH2sWWIXbabBxeG6m89plqHPkh/s640/blogger-image--2099422558.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNcpobMxHgfE3PVZhnABs2uWH9AlQl-HGOBkSIaXO4a46M32PEf83W6hfye6D-D1-5MmY2ncaIrckx0ipCxPsLZVIUNdx-cDZcRDdB-dqhs2sFMOU3yXiI-EkNN6u1rwGodWKQa2D-WZ5/s640/blogger-image-937664257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNcpobMxHgfE3PVZhnABs2uWH9AlQl-HGOBkSIaXO4a46M32PEf83W6hfye6D-D1-5MmY2ncaIrckx0ipCxPsLZVIUNdx-cDZcRDdB-dqhs2sFMOU3yXiI-EkNN6u1rwGodWKQa2D-WZ5/s640/blogger-image-937664257.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-88237131369961689082012-03-30T19:03:00.001-07:002012-04-05T08:20:10.604-07:00It Starts Now4/01/12<br />
<br />
Today marks operation "get River Jane out of my bed". <br />
<br />
I wouldn't call myself a family bed practicer. I've got nothing against it, but I like my space. I like to be able to go to bed without attachments. And I like to be able to change positions when I wake up at night. Can I also add, that I am a light sleeper who doesn't move around. River Jane sleeps on her side right up against me. So I feel her if she moves. I wouldn't let her sleep with us if I thought it was in any way dangerous. That's all. <br />
<br />
With Taylor, I started early getting her to self soothe herself to sleep. She would start out in her bed, but I would nurse her by me and leave her there for the 4:00 feeding. <br />
<br />
Things are different with River Jane. I'm scared to let her cry even a tiny bit at night. We share a wall with Taylor and I'm so afraid it will wake her up. <br />
<br />
So, she sleeps with us. It's just easier to feed her or pop the paci in when she wakes up. I know. Begin as you mean to go. This is a bad habit I've gotten myself into. <br />
<br />
And it stops now. <br />
<br />
I want my bed back. I love every minute with that sweet baby, but I want my away from baby sleep time. <br />
<br />
So, tonight I'm trying to put her to sleep in the pack n play in our guest room. I moved the video monitor out of Taylor's room and into there. <br />
<br />
I think this will help both of us sleep better. Hopefully it won't take too long. <br />
<br />
Wish me luck. <br />
<br />
Update on Wednesday, April 4th:<br />
The first night did not go well. I caved and ended up sleeping with you in the guest bed. And starting at 1, you woke up EVERY hour. Not cool, kid. The next day we worked on self-soothing during naptime. Again, did not go well. Lots of crying; little sleep. And that night we made the mistake of doing another big change by putting Taylor in a toddler bed, so she needed the video monitor. That meant mommy had to sleep in the guest room with you again. After nursing you, I worked on at least getting you used to not being right next to me. That worked. I also started giving you a bottle at night so I couldn't use nursing as a paci. You slept in your pack and play well at first, but mommy caved when you wouldn't go back to sleep. And then the next day for naps, the magic happened. Mommy figured out you sleep well on your own when she lets you cry it out on your belly. It takes you less than 5 minutes to fall asleep without my help. Awesome. Please let this be real. The first night of belly sleep, you slept in the pack and play til 5:30, with one bottle between that. Awesome. Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-51078155493108121492012-03-30T18:43:00.001-07:002012-03-30T18:43:08.015-07:00Giggle Giggle QuackYou didn't quack. <br />
<br />
But you did giggle. <br />
<br />
Mommy was making raspberry noises at you, and you decided she was funny enough to giggle at. <br />
<br />
You are 8 weeks old. <br />
<br />
I can't wait for those deep belly laughs. <br />
<br />
Bring it. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UJ8g3K5uIcoOhTrqodHDmjT8C1co5_KFUpFzD2HKd1b_rmsU-hUXAGIFVScdjunh26Mo_7ahQFVBj754Abt9aORzN8B4I4STShhxZIDl31kA-jhHziXMKeu8lwEpH1r1I4Nv5cdOh0CI/s640/blogger-image--260894317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UJ8g3K5uIcoOhTrqodHDmjT8C1co5_KFUpFzD2HKd1b_rmsU-hUXAGIFVScdjunh26Mo_7ahQFVBj754Abt9aORzN8B4I4STShhxZIDl31kA-jhHziXMKeu8lwEpH1r1I4Nv5cdOh0CI/s640/blogger-image--260894317.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-39028638998944576912012-03-30T17:40:00.001-07:002012-04-05T02:05:07.104-07:00Belly RollYou little sneaky doll. <br />
<br />
I lay you on your play mat like I often do, and then head into the kitchen to cook dinner. No big. <br />
<br />
Minutes later I hear you crying and think you must be bored with that. <br />
<br />
Nope. <br />
<br />
You rolled on over to your belly and I believe surprised yourself. <br />
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Who taught you that. <br />
<br />
It's so funny, because with Taylor I had time to watch and wait impatiently for every milestone. But you get to surprise us with your skills on your own time. I like that. <br />
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Well done, little girl. <br />
<br />
You're not quite 3 months yet (4 days away to be exact). <br />
<br />
And we love you to pieces. <br />
<br />
Update on 4/5/12:<br />
And you just rolled over from your belly to your back. Slow down, kid. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqHaNnxhuVEuKLjd5S8bPHGqbXcYbbarAfk6gI3HPRLd8620fQoEcuz8Jou7vDc3sNjr0apKk-HF-XQOLnxgROx2vzKPbYe6XlUFiUfErfJemQ0zVpZEO-mxaszDEqYGma4M6NgkztuCgI/s640/blogger-image-684259203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqHaNnxhuVEuKLjd5S8bPHGqbXcYbbarAfk6gI3HPRLd8620fQoEcuz8Jou7vDc3sNjr0apKk-HF-XQOLnxgROx2vzKPbYe6XlUFiUfErfJemQ0zVpZEO-mxaszDEqYGma4M6NgkztuCgI/s640/blogger-image-684259203.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-36125474812464101292012-03-02T14:15:00.001-08:002012-03-02T14:15:16.183-08:00Pump it UpTaylor's mothering instinct already seems to be kicking in. <br />
<br />
Baby's gotta eat, right? She ain't gonna feed herself. <br />
<br />
Embarrassing pics for the future? You betcha. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6t9dxXjuY9OiVGO0sHUps0BOkRyCqJtd-T44jbMmqXV_5GW0RU98zVp1c-XgOcJUXfFoqFkhcLYBSJN_EBuFzxw3YDPIt05uKzvSkt88g1QHITywFUHTvbACD9BgcWaGUwW17_IJRPRr9/s640/blogger-image-670904356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6t9dxXjuY9OiVGO0sHUps0BOkRyCqJtd-T44jbMmqXV_5GW0RU98zVp1c-XgOcJUXfFoqFkhcLYBSJN_EBuFzxw3YDPIt05uKzvSkt88g1QHITywFUHTvbACD9BgcWaGUwW17_IJRPRr9/s640/blogger-image-670904356.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGpPNxUKlATW6oSjfwAJq0v2yP3U-maXNhwIr-tuuyQpk6uUKGg-Kisgw2ZWHg9FlZt-nFtPs8zzyhcAuhITFUdxUBn-a6FvSxMRBqa94TinKQFS6440ZW2OzPt9kSV9I8dDAYXJz2i9D/s640/blogger-image--985812143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGpPNxUKlATW6oSjfwAJq0v2yP3U-maXNhwIr-tuuyQpk6uUKGg-Kisgw2ZWHg9FlZt-nFtPs8zzyhcAuhITFUdxUBn-a6FvSxMRBqa94TinKQFS6440ZW2OzPt9kSV9I8dDAYXJz2i9D/s640/blogger-image--985812143.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-47676195476345033962012-03-01T14:55:00.001-08:002012-03-01T14:55:24.386-08:00GuiltCan you see it? <br />
<br />
Right there.<br />
<br />
That's guilt. <br />
<br />
Mommy-guilt. <br />
<br />
After 27 years of living with my "skin condition", also known as just being pale, I should know better. <br />
<br />
We are never leaving the house again unless that sweet porcelain face is smothered in some SPF 1000. <br />
<br />
Too much? <br />
<br />
Nah. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzlInHfCkPvw528CcIyjLpjtk3IBmEjHgu5wEh5p8ke-FGbAnVXNVvY0Xk86FI9H8O9SaTE3v1O-OihNohl4ja2Xzn6yt2Ja5aOwluwZ7Q8zz2yGXBD7tz-63P8pDmc7C0I3gbxo0zznf/s640/blogger-image-1947169110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzlInHfCkPvw528CcIyjLpjtk3IBmEjHgu5wEh5p8ke-FGbAnVXNVvY0Xk86FI9H8O9SaTE3v1O-OihNohl4ja2Xzn6yt2Ja5aOwluwZ7Q8zz2yGXBD7tz-63P8pDmc7C0I3gbxo0zznf/s640/blogger-image-1947169110.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPNROHjnczyb5xF_HWBsWZuvaTXNnVEbk_aMwgnSJF-aij5juCZy3wdeKsV4cQvh_uMelv5gWE3Pw60d8hAuNT6jiZGTK5TQJATUSfVYhyl4x8vBt0pHj7PXklt2IeMV-hyxcuQSOo5OzM/s640/blogger-image-742310239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPNROHjnczyb5xF_HWBsWZuvaTXNnVEbk_aMwgnSJF-aij5juCZy3wdeKsV4cQvh_uMelv5gWE3Pw60d8hAuNT6jiZGTK5TQJATUSfVYhyl4x8vBt0pHj7PXklt2IeMV-hyxcuQSOo5OzM/s640/blogger-image-742310239.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-27714268630180332022012-02-28T13:15:00.001-08:002012-02-28T13:15:59.129-08:00Secret FortsBest way to spend my time. <br />
<br />
Singing songs.<br />
<br />
Telling stories about bears, princesses, elephants, and adventures. <br />
<br />
Snuggling. <br />
<br />
Kisses. <br />
<br />
Protecting the fort from the Zissou beast. <br />
<br />
Best way to spend my time. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjpRKLL7mLXD1ZQ4IMt5HTCDD_UMeC78cqBQ5KwpJodN-tTpi6ghksJj0KSocgWA3W807S63cT4KZj-ZfFYBMgX5kfaIqxOcu0SuxjWBZgBU47I_wGNGF3CEbr4QmOw_eJ7G38TwTZ67W/s640/blogger-image--447928492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjpRKLL7mLXD1ZQ4IMt5HTCDD_UMeC78cqBQ5KwpJodN-tTpi6ghksJj0KSocgWA3W807S63cT4KZj-ZfFYBMgX5kfaIqxOcu0SuxjWBZgBU47I_wGNGF3CEbr4QmOw_eJ7G38TwTZ67W/s640/blogger-image--447928492.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgo6HMGsxoBOBbYBdM3uw7D_aMYEuQjBelo5ftS7TbANajUDPN_hte7a0ARFOSdFynBCiqYQ3Q12LZfwVCcZ3HCYZa45Cnpe0id4z45ldBECJpFwaa-4IZlMuCqABPwd3OhFVLlHTfxqhW/s640/blogger-image-2037597673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgo6HMGsxoBOBbYBdM3uw7D_aMYEuQjBelo5ftS7TbANajUDPN_hte7a0ARFOSdFynBCiqYQ3Q12LZfwVCcZ3HCYZa45Cnpe0id4z45ldBECJpFwaa-4IZlMuCqABPwd3OhFVLlHTfxqhW/s640/blogger-image-2037597673.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdKjQu1DoSYJlS-_3hQuZ2zzHIHt9i3QH4X8JVi3PkoMn6naBwj5hK6RtX-vzxSJN0o8djRazM5JznHSgU_FByYYZe4Eo1p_2dD21kOyAWgeu9fheqGdq2rOcp9Z-sRrsuuL3JVWH4mNt/s640/blogger-image--188346557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdKjQu1DoSYJlS-_3hQuZ2zzHIHt9i3QH4X8JVi3PkoMn6naBwj5hK6RtX-vzxSJN0o8djRazM5JznHSgU_FByYYZe4Eo1p_2dD21kOyAWgeu9fheqGdq2rOcp9Z-sRrsuuL3JVWH4mNt/s640/blogger-image--188346557.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEY6YX0t91kBsIeW1dB84b0DQvenoCzSd-XLY8LUVwlHknjAw65QC4hzCKme6raFkxjv4nI7mwZ-MVpIb9pFXWAI592NtkWM1D4-HJ_0fv03srtMGHIkwnGQpGoG4PNelSa35IlkDgW2x-/s640/blogger-image--129802567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEY6YX0t91kBsIeW1dB84b0DQvenoCzSd-XLY8LUVwlHknjAw65QC4hzCKme6raFkxjv4nI7mwZ-MVpIb9pFXWAI592NtkWM1D4-HJ_0fv03srtMGHIkwnGQpGoG4PNelSa35IlkDgW2x-/s640/blogger-image--129802567.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijPcy3BpkhVzCebpyX3t_FRqBEYRDWK4_vc_u7OtEKVItZYT4K-A2g_g3mFuU5ZezcivmYoot_5EDLqVwICwzYAa0Qrvs6rip0Z91XsC13QP7yhwG9nei58kUR-ovDNUDuzgJz4DWrfa9T/s640/blogger-image-642008378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijPcy3BpkhVzCebpyX3t_FRqBEYRDWK4_vc_u7OtEKVItZYT4K-A2g_g3mFuU5ZezcivmYoot_5EDLqVwICwzYAa0Qrvs6rip0Z91XsC13QP7yhwG9nei58kUR-ovDNUDuzgJz4DWrfa9T/s640/blogger-image-642008378.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iVGfwlTAxBcQTZxKkzIl2i9jFO2vDpwSQZO_LE9esBBM-n6jdd5RVWQByvK2m8oV4qNhts5OdiRVAEB-s0FD-BHmfIYhl1amkr4I92MmuJm4IZ-zZHlKk5cuApE4Dt3nRJbcWyHkVBxv/s640/blogger-image--1454363349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iVGfwlTAxBcQTZxKkzIl2i9jFO2vDpwSQZO_LE9esBBM-n6jdd5RVWQByvK2m8oV4qNhts5OdiRVAEB-s0FD-BHmfIYhl1amkr4I92MmuJm4IZ-zZHlKk5cuApE4Dt3nRJbcWyHkVBxv/s640/blogger-image--1454363349.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVTtsxC1lwIEAGcSNqNhiH3WsVmcNoeoTBqHhAEVK1JVGkG_JXbOfXOtTtD1zbqYUZnZtQMswLiVB9rlfcg_7ekncKqodKNEHNktGcG_uWsujlS5PXIsapTphi0uRy36rieKSVPnRkHag/s640/blogger-image--483796516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVTtsxC1lwIEAGcSNqNhiH3WsVmcNoeoTBqHhAEVK1JVGkG_JXbOfXOtTtD1zbqYUZnZtQMswLiVB9rlfcg_7ekncKqodKNEHNktGcG_uWsujlS5PXIsapTphi0uRy36rieKSVPnRkHag/s640/blogger-image--483796516.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBKogN8gYWewpwkYtHWjv6lnUoNJWHr_9ZyoD-NQ3-1TyULNZ6ue9MefqpIrwTdO4oDgFetnWJV7iAI9ubPwhlmCaWxI6Y_n1bF75uZt_KOd1rRItWXS1bvzVBmTS1Er4EC0TpLHPzZXB8/s640/blogger-image-314985349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBKogN8gYWewpwkYtHWjv6lnUoNJWHr_9ZyoD-NQ3-1TyULNZ6ue9MefqpIrwTdO4oDgFetnWJV7iAI9ubPwhlmCaWxI6Y_n1bF75uZt_KOd1rRItWXS1bvzVBmTS1Er4EC0TpLHPzZXB8/s640/blogger-image-314985349.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi91DZLbzSYrCYUREpos1IhxEn9pkYltZFTWvEG21c7D2Z3O_dvAIZfP5FP1HackWHQe5MxO3GLIflST-X86xGjnMtGQmKJXEKWlq_2SIl7C_TB8BbXhLOaPGKxAj17JazGTp8xUK77ws7h/s640/blogger-image--1661804441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi91DZLbzSYrCYUREpos1IhxEn9pkYltZFTWvEG21c7D2Z3O_dvAIZfP5FP1HackWHQe5MxO3GLIflST-X86xGjnMtGQmKJXEKWlq_2SIl7C_TB8BbXhLOaPGKxAj17JazGTp8xUK77ws7h/s640/blogger-image--1661804441.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GIsH56Bb2BKE16zVwI-2vZTWldQzs1hERL01gDzOJUlJPdgDoUybFGHzgpbWO7oMEXCgVStutOodwXc9LH-eG3ApbcrYjwdo5ey5jHDdooZR8uT0QgKwzcBVAbBms4N958UmQQ48if0J/s640/blogger-image-1508540661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GIsH56Bb2BKE16zVwI-2vZTWldQzs1hERL01gDzOJUlJPdgDoUybFGHzgpbWO7oMEXCgVStutOodwXc9LH-eG3ApbcrYjwdo5ey5jHDdooZR8uT0QgKwzcBVAbBms4N958UmQQ48if0J/s640/blogger-image-1508540661.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-48561786204964631022012-02-27T22:21:00.001-08:002012-02-28T11:03:38.327-08:00Flu-Like SymptomsFebruary 16<br />
<br />
"Flu-like symptoms"<br />
<br />
Can't be that bad, right? Wrong. <br />
<br />
These flu-like symptoms are the worst. Add on the pain in the infected area, a hungry newborn, and we've got miserable. <br />
<br />
I finally gave in and asked for help (something I'm not good at) and called Lynn. When she got here, I was bawling. She took the baby and I collapsed in bed for a little while. So thankful for that rest. My mom came the next day, but I was already feeling much better. <br />
<br />
Mastitis had after effects as well. River Jane had some nursing strikes where I had to trick her into latching. Not fun. <br />
<br />
River Jane is really making me work for this nursing thing. Doesn't she know it's good for her? <br />
<br />
I'm having to let go and relax. I was getting so stressed all the time worrying about nursing lasting. I've had to come to terms with the fact that if I have to stop earlier than I'd like, I need to be okay with it. I like control, so that's hard to let go. I'm not in control; God is. <br />
<br />
I am praying we can nurse a lot longer, but prepared to let go if we have to. Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-34613197172231471352012-02-27T22:20:00.001-08:002012-02-28T11:03:47.957-08:00River Jane the DollFebruary 15<br />
<br />
Putting River Jane on the floor is a bit more dangerous than it was for Taylor. <br />
<br />
When I put River Jane on the floor, Taylor is immediately drawn to her. She's pretty gentle, but of course I've got to keep a close eye on her. She showers her with kisses and gifts her with toys. It's pretty sweet. <br />
<br />
I can't decide if she's treating River Jane like a toy or if she's actually playing with her. Oh well. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hQl9lW88LzAwT3pLCM5PhIg_1-Gl21uO5dJXKJjeVVUCJ-37n1oXpJY_QmugAsnjLw6m-aWbEenBDsayAJqi5UKMhu9WGYVWbeNxY2npOOD1e8ZibWs2d7iDFTliHsnHdcGybyuUQ2SO/s640/blogger-image--1087850455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hQl9lW88LzAwT3pLCM5PhIg_1-Gl21uO5dJXKJjeVVUCJ-37n1oXpJY_QmugAsnjLw6m-aWbEenBDsayAJqi5UKMhu9WGYVWbeNxY2npOOD1e8ZibWs2d7iDFTliHsnHdcGybyuUQ2SO/s640/blogger-image--1087850455.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwfXxcdsRCDsiqhH1fnEYU5IMn3E2SzLdgm6BJuN4jCem5buZC8PlgKsVWe5AD4xEMlEKMNAwrnFGj1KlERJdzOZtZLmrZ30Q4hbz99mEuUTLDZn9IqIJ_P7mXTomnNMxb768pPgA90yn/s640/blogger-image-920447358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzwfXxcdsRCDsiqhH1fnEYU5IMn3E2SzLdgm6BJuN4jCem5buZC8PlgKsVWe5AD4xEMlEKMNAwrnFGj1KlERJdzOZtZLmrZ30Q4hbz99mEuUTLDZn9IqIJ_P7mXTomnNMxb768pPgA90yn/s640/blogger-image-920447358.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFfgJnS6FtpRCLmQC3MOYIb0_hRaDFc6Q1Zw8ja40PqV5CiCBR8rPgdTIyYtq9nSqbflt6rizDyeNQKZKTeX2hjvv0zaKF10lP3U2kX-GraFXeqrCj9x5IbKEQ3l-PVfk11rtf0sdHgKnj/s640/blogger-image-1119425039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFfgJnS6FtpRCLmQC3MOYIb0_hRaDFc6Q1Zw8ja40PqV5CiCBR8rPgdTIyYtq9nSqbflt6rizDyeNQKZKTeX2hjvv0zaKF10lP3U2kX-GraFXeqrCj9x5IbKEQ3l-PVfk11rtf0sdHgKnj/s640/blogger-image-1119425039.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0lKZd0gI6bbXbk4BkH53aO55jYpyKcnXOkH5Lt5PkxwR5h_99uE0VDgjvwLsJgZcevWMlKs800SFBnorETXTg_-PjsOCLtVF7HKBKpgOqhyphenhyphenLOfMyIFWZ32kBx9n0-krNKf96n7bL4Ydow/s640/blogger-image--1873131047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0lKZd0gI6bbXbk4BkH53aO55jYpyKcnXOkH5Lt5PkxwR5h_99uE0VDgjvwLsJgZcevWMlKs800SFBnorETXTg_-PjsOCLtVF7HKBKpgOqhyphenhyphenLOfMyIFWZ32kBx9n0-krNKf96n7bL4Ydow/s640/blogger-image--1873131047.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-35333588246370460632012-02-27T22:19:00.003-08:002012-02-28T11:04:02.576-08:00Smiles are Where It Is AtFebruary 12<br />
<br />
I like the newborn baby stage. Really I do. They are so snugly and sweet, and they make the best faces. But there is something so magical when they start smiling at you. Not just gas smiles, but real smiles. <br />
<br />
River Jane is there. <br />
<br />
And I love it. <br />
<br />
She was about 5 weeks old when she first started those real smiles. It's the best feeling when she really sees you, and looks at you like you are so beautiful. She gazes up with such adoration. It really makes my heart go pitter patter. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_Qc8wdEKj1w1ZmhuancpI16iM0cdibwkdagWizhB4rNKqGEPyJXSRFKLETgYpDUBjNY0uA1jxVcDJVBJfSS7WR5f7N_P-hF34NkPHnkha-s3rlZmF81DRJvLaSf4l6batZJ0O_OB35gs/s640/blogger-image--1982596150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_Qc8wdEKj1w1ZmhuancpI16iM0cdibwkdagWizhB4rNKqGEPyJXSRFKLETgYpDUBjNY0uA1jxVcDJVBJfSS7WR5f7N_P-hF34NkPHnkha-s3rlZmF81DRJvLaSf4l6batZJ0O_OB35gs/s640/blogger-image--1982596150.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKkFbs8VWOqIU3b2Maht3pRFvg74gfCVKPpHx5-wsRQ7QajDQcQ7Vd11nU88nRyRJubEFqRS9oQc9VomlA7vIolUYnm6crHp5GdCCuslJQkClfmXW3K2zT6vk3J0A_0a_jYHDhsV5drg4K/s640/blogger-image-803723770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKkFbs8VWOqIU3b2Maht3pRFvg74gfCVKPpHx5-wsRQ7QajDQcQ7Vd11nU88nRyRJubEFqRS9oQc9VomlA7vIolUYnm6crHp5GdCCuslJQkClfmXW3K2zT6vk3J0A_0a_jYHDhsV5drg4K/s640/blogger-image-803723770.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgVJIUtcAlwHypLUWc73E3BNB_-k67Lg_FARymxUX25q6FEWrciq2vy7vLCSEVsj1WGmiQjfhPhzxGlNYLSUJhL_fThRBAoiTrFsqHLo7y5CUKMXC8UX_VRnKSmaisYukzXGxB8dQLZ5fG/s640/blogger-image-1074835041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgVJIUtcAlwHypLUWc73E3BNB_-k67Lg_FARymxUX25q6FEWrciq2vy7vLCSEVsj1WGmiQjfhPhzxGlNYLSUJhL_fThRBAoiTrFsqHLo7y5CUKMXC8UX_VRnKSmaisYukzXGxB8dQLZ5fG/s640/blogger-image-1074835041.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggAy7iWooKiD9xoHEhcvchZgIP_NYA4Jzgq4vWtZDTYUCz8NMYPUcDOLvM0k1fiuFyB69VE8gqkh5VNX5dp95mTpZOipixqmzkWeVGjQHnW42NkUMvCscuuwU2Vd6MTV61hpB3coxSzFJ/s640/blogger-image--448819304.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggAy7iWooKiD9xoHEhcvchZgIP_NYA4Jzgq4vWtZDTYUCz8NMYPUcDOLvM0k1fiuFyB69VE8gqkh5VNX5dp95mTpZOipixqmzkWeVGjQHnW42NkUMvCscuuwU2Vd6MTV61hpB3coxSzFJ/s640/blogger-image--448819304.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioEVkrswqnSDQlcLSN_Wg_dOdC4prQiZ_7l1PF6JF6g7xuj3PG4c5KEKvpMDZpWaAZuLhZPegABYo7tcKhrmqzNVFxDEBr2eMkDKpV8Q7mijrKnoU9OiLvPs5b2sVjS8Afqg_XPUupbTYp/s640/blogger-image--1341845938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioEVkrswqnSDQlcLSN_Wg_dOdC4prQiZ_7l1PF6JF6g7xuj3PG4c5KEKvpMDZpWaAZuLhZPegABYo7tcKhrmqzNVFxDEBr2eMkDKpV8Q7mijrKnoU9OiLvPs5b2sVjS8Afqg_XPUupbTYp/s640/blogger-image--1341845938.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-62585816624296105002012-02-27T22:19:00.001-08:002012-02-28T11:04:13.741-08:00Blankie LoveFeb 8<br />
<br />
It's love. Blankie love. <br />
<br />
Taylor was given a minky dot blanket and bib when she was born. I thought it was cute and all with her name sewn in, but I had no idea how much she would come to love them. Thankfully we have both the bib and blanket in case one is missing. <br />
<br />
She mostly only uses them at nap or bedtime or security at church. <br />
<br />
But if she happens to pass by one, she can't help but be drawn in by it's powers. No matter what she's doing, she has to pet it and put those two sweet fingers in her mouth. <br />
<br />
It's like a drug. A soft pink minky drug. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1AFCqje-fLm8XedkNZl4ZojeuDelGj_Yu0CyXSOc68rcJtr9s2uRBjcnhglW8c44sr7nIL4YEKvsmmWpszGOOAzYCbOQXLx2_xoJWhjJ3U9tQ9QbePdhTw3wt2E-OChpmQX0CJWlzWfW8/s640/blogger-image--859739170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1AFCqje-fLm8XedkNZl4ZojeuDelGj_Yu0CyXSOc68rcJtr9s2uRBjcnhglW8c44sr7nIL4YEKvsmmWpszGOOAzYCbOQXLx2_xoJWhjJ3U9tQ9QbePdhTw3wt2E-OChpmQX0CJWlzWfW8/s640/blogger-image--859739170.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicvYLk5jZLu-52IcW8pOdrXgADAxNbmuyHi6IEBEO0gJzPZcNcmypF1i8f9q_X-zIbmm-0fAcmYWGYt1lXKMuxUbntk-Z4y5l83bTMt7yXg5STeHAa5bvyp7T7b9Cx1B-A8TDo7x_UWley/s640/blogger-image--891605932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicvYLk5jZLu-52IcW8pOdrXgADAxNbmuyHi6IEBEO0gJzPZcNcmypF1i8f9q_X-zIbmm-0fAcmYWGYt1lXKMuxUbntk-Z4y5l83bTMt7yXg5STeHAa5bvyp7T7b9Cx1B-A8TDo7x_UWley/s640/blogger-image--891605932.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-44598841558980731562012-02-27T22:17:00.003-08:002012-02-28T11:05:10.074-08:00A Piggy Tail Kind of LoveFeb 3<br />
<br />
The little Fraggle finally did it. She grew enough hair for some pig tails. <br />
<br />
More like mullet pig tails, but pig tails nonetheless. <br />
<br />
And while wearing said pig tails, she decides to be super adorable and loving towards her baby sister. <br />
<br />
But she's always like that. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-knEJ0ES4kc40ozEtrEgR4cgDp34Bzzi6Wd-Qr3OE6a9aBWvgWZ5BHF5uhE3IBuVPQGNoH25Vag-6fpfKOmVOjNJKNzWtxk-Mwa_zJm_SB9RMGtj81KZZ1OSJOhgDXHbiBlahzdhykdn3/s640/blogger-image-1581424973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-knEJ0ES4kc40ozEtrEgR4cgDp34Bzzi6Wd-Qr3OE6a9aBWvgWZ5BHF5uhE3IBuVPQGNoH25Vag-6fpfKOmVOjNJKNzWtxk-Mwa_zJm_SB9RMGtj81KZZ1OSJOhgDXHbiBlahzdhykdn3/s640/blogger-image-1581424973.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GHg2v9_VwiJbeI5o-kYM3h2FvflWK0tCX0pTY0pxtqZwMgHsRGesCATkT6eUKZWFUxKbKFhneCH_-bUQOyRYIuExQ9UIGmkwDcQm0flp0Boi6TdBVqaZjTtSW6RKVTpZnKbvq9v_MGqZ/s640/blogger-image--1278422163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GHg2v9_VwiJbeI5o-kYM3h2FvflWK0tCX0pTY0pxtqZwMgHsRGesCATkT6eUKZWFUxKbKFhneCH_-bUQOyRYIuExQ9UIGmkwDcQm0flp0Boi6TdBVqaZjTtSW6RKVTpZnKbvq9v_MGqZ/s640/blogger-image--1278422163.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitGPE9LvuJndXYYNmrV-ZF7z1JXvfqO0oeiv0Q5WyyTE_hnC9VZnrKkBiD8JS-hz7-n_2RSHJ6bj7eEMy0tIujc6sJuI7bFE_cCzH3SBR5Gqi5dRPBXNRRrKGmFxkAVdmkzR7oGRAvsRgU/s640/blogger-image--2125933300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitGPE9LvuJndXYYNmrV-ZF7z1JXvfqO0oeiv0Q5WyyTE_hnC9VZnrKkBiD8JS-hz7-n_2RSHJ6bj7eEMy0tIujc6sJuI7bFE_cCzH3SBR5Gqi5dRPBXNRRrKGmFxkAVdmkzR7oGRAvsRgU/s640/blogger-image--2125933300.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNmULWY8E-9cvEJ9vPH4tDBxi1WvTuc4P9cwRDqmDHfjCr8ZLm-_Bx8QrrGK2zNHX4e7dSxuu2qdThOWCv3ugCU9aC5l84AT3r8mk784AhCbqOSs8WHQvROMZpEfl3zc6McO1MFkIGqcq/s640/blogger-image-850820423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNmULWY8E-9cvEJ9vPH4tDBxi1WvTuc4P9cwRDqmDHfjCr8ZLm-_Bx8QrrGK2zNHX4e7dSxuu2qdThOWCv3ugCU9aC5l84AT3r8mk784AhCbqOSs8WHQvROMZpEfl3zc6McO1MFkIGqcq/s640/blogger-image-850820423.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuHqqeOfCQ0UZk3aMxbkIBhEbju_NGXSqB7RemSwtlDijsE2uEYhJOl4s2v892PMCVZL8U1Xr5dsWUZnPNIXjE9Oig46unU9UCDVzGT6aNzSQDVuh5OWnADDIt8y-BDC9r7lASYidNJPW/s640/blogger-image-1364681581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuHqqeOfCQ0UZk3aMxbkIBhEbju_NGXSqB7RemSwtlDijsE2uEYhJOl4s2v892PMCVZL8U1Xr5dsWUZnPNIXjE9Oig46unU9UCDVzGT6aNzSQDVuh5OWnADDIt8y-BDC9r7lASYidNJPW/s640/blogger-image-1364681581.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixGtHcBS42V8wZycy9cq4GdnqnepqOGyIq-Zt6myia-rU-XGYVoYiF30O24WH3e7j-B-NDldvXpqV8Rb3IzDImTvG8qM4z1aLA2VUIKvpvEUtj-nXwE52POF558Lq2ZKvh9I3kBPR0gEhJ/s640/blogger-image-1495587461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixGtHcBS42V8wZycy9cq4GdnqnepqOGyIq-Zt6myia-rU-XGYVoYiF30O24WH3e7j-B-NDldvXpqV8Rb3IzDImTvG8qM4z1aLA2VUIKvpvEUtj-nXwE52POF558Lq2ZKvh9I3kBPR0gEhJ/s640/blogger-image-1495587461.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCvCInDsZSoZ7Nngx-1Fr-JDAMDj4DeiwJ7fm8rFTBGLrXjlRDBwd80Sj49vTd6bLcbkPlpW40hD2lKtR0Zn0vJT8cgnEfurp-LHw-ckWoLc2DybVaYJl3IURldS3fcLHzCPMV0yPTIiLr/s640/blogger-image-1053222621.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCvCInDsZSoZ7Nngx-1Fr-JDAMDj4DeiwJ7fm8rFTBGLrXjlRDBwd80Sj49vTd6bLcbkPlpW40hD2lKtR0Zn0vJT8cgnEfurp-LHw-ckWoLc2DybVaYJl3IURldS3fcLHzCPMV0yPTIiLr/s640/blogger-image-1053222621.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-59355884202292335082012-02-27T22:17:00.001-08:002012-02-28T11:04:55.797-08:00A Case of the SillysFebruary 1<br />
<br />
She loves making silly faces. <br />
<br />
I love her. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Or_2W9VUxlb7QjP4iHlaLPv1cLduEMVObheB5znviE4U0pHb0eb08OxrLwQUKPrXF5lxkikgl-4SsmCMREWX-F5TRwnIV9KPtfFzCD1nJ84bu8NlRKFvzqZy06VTfO1_sANvanGgttBg/s640/blogger-image--1128543814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Or_2W9VUxlb7QjP4iHlaLPv1cLduEMVObheB5znviE4U0pHb0eb08OxrLwQUKPrXF5lxkikgl-4SsmCMREWX-F5TRwnIV9KPtfFzCD1nJ84bu8NlRKFvzqZy06VTfO1_sANvanGgttBg/s640/blogger-image--1128543814.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-26322736620611032392012-02-27T22:16:00.001-08:002012-02-28T11:13:36.366-08:00Sleepy SnugglesJanuary 29<br />
<br />
Jonathan captured this sweet moment one night late. River Jane was in need of some mommy snuggles and some mommy skin. <br />
<br />
I didn't mind a bit. <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigbjxldmonKmDrE0gJeGy-4SgSyE7YrTvmaMhr9J1r6qNtJpjW0ZngU2x0TFsJA_0PpJksXiCl7B4OlSLPG53QvnStdu5SLUoxfvgTRRqDJn92-Al4cXKbY092c1Uz4b_jQwhFZA4Nr8FK/s640/blogger-image--784522122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigbjxldmonKmDrE0gJeGy-4SgSyE7YrTvmaMhr9J1r6qNtJpjW0ZngU2x0TFsJA_0PpJksXiCl7B4OlSLPG53QvnStdu5SLUoxfvgTRRqDJn92-Al4cXKbY092c1Uz4b_jQwhFZA4Nr8FK/s640/blogger-image--784522122.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7120743456874563174.post-78116884538334425142012-02-27T22:15:00.001-08:002012-02-28T11:04:34.879-08:00Missing TaylorJanuary 24<br />
<br />
Sometimes, I miss Taylor. <br />
<br />
"Where's she gone?" you might ask. <br />
<br />
She's still with me all day. The only difference is that my time is not just hers anymore. She now shares me with another baby. <br />
<br />
And that's great. She doesn't seem to mind. And I'm thrilled to have another baby. I love River Jane. <br />
<br />
But sometimes I get sad because it won't be the same anymore. It won't just be me and Taylor. (I'm talking about during the day when daddy isn't here of course). <br />
<br />
So, I got Jonathan to keep the baby while Taylor and I went on a little date to Starbucks. It was delightful, and I'll be doing it more often. <br />
<br />
I know we are starting a new phase and we will get a new kind of normal. <br />
<br />
But I can still miss the old, can't I? <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQ14KgiEqGNKhV5q9Vc6ti_SaF5rHbyYjt-NgkI9hmWN-MlvA9oSwC20iA2s51VgXDpSL8Ro1z2El9VMyRM-A8aparqUZCO6HjY6qqL62mXhhnm9SqrrzFten9oNN7rSINeuG6j333ULX/s640/blogger-image--1381461657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQ14KgiEqGNKhV5q9Vc6ti_SaF5rHbyYjt-NgkI9hmWN-MlvA9oSwC20iA2s51VgXDpSL8Ro1z2El9VMyRM-A8aparqUZCO6HjY6qqL62mXhhnm9SqrrzFten9oNN7rSINeuG6j333ULX/s640/blogger-image--1381461657.jpg" /></a></div>Kristin Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00479816941849073759noreply@blogger.com0