Okay, so I resisted it; I really did. But I got tagged to write 25 things about myself like 84 times on Facebook, so I finally caved. And once I had it written, I liked my list. And since I haven't had any good ideas for a post over the last few days, I thought I'd post my 25 things here, too. Enjoy!
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1. I love to collect books. I don't necessarily like borrowing them from the library or other people; I like to buy them. That way, I'll build a nice library over time, and one day, when I'm an old lady, I will be surrounded by them. Then maybe my house will smell like a library. I love the smell of a good library. One time I walked into a little used bookstore, and it smelled like a library. I told the owner that that's how I knew it was a good place.
2. We have two cats, Livvy and Vi, short for Olivia and Viola. Those are characters from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, and their names are near anagrams of each other.
3. The more I cook, the more opinionated I am about cooking. I hope I haven't offended any of my blog readers by my abhorrence of canned cream of mushroom soup or canned cranberry sauce.
4. One of the highlights of my college experience was Sing Alliance at Baylor. I made a ton of friends, loved performing, and I even had a solo. I still keep up with a handful of people I met in that group.
5. I was trained in vocal performance throughout high school. It was a very serious thing for me, and I won or placed highly in some big competitions. For a while there, I thought I'd be an opera singer. Better yet, sing on Broadway.
6. Another highlight of my college experience was studying abroad in Cambridge, England. I. Loved. It. I would live there. It was like I was at the apex of aesthetic experience the whole time.
7. One of my college friends reminded me a while back that I had always hoped to marry a man with an accent. I came sort of close. Although Nathan is a total Texas boy, he was born in England and technically has dual citizenship (or at least he did until he was 18). So even if I didn't get a man with an accent, I did get a foreigner. Sort of. A little. Mostly not. But still.
8. Because Nathan was born in Cambridge, England, I studied there, and we lived in Cambridge, MA, I think a good name for a dog we'd own in the future would be Cambridge, or Cam for short. We also like Agincourt ("A-zhin-cor"), which is the battlefield in Henry V. Nathan and I just like it for a big, intimidating dog, like a Rottweiler or a Great Dane. :)
9. So far, this list is pretty academic. Which is weird, since I am not really all that academic these days. I am a mommy, after all, which doesn't leave much room to be an academic. Actually, I have very little desire to BE an academic these days. I am more interested in learning to cook, sew, and be a good mommy than reading my brains out. But I hope I will never be able to read a lovely piece of literature without being affected by it or automatically analyzing it.
10. I love Boston. I love how different it is from Texas--particularly how beautiful New England is and the fact that we don't have 8 months of summer. That said, though, I would rather raise my kids in the south because the culture there is more conservative. Plus, that's where our families are. And, even though I can love and appreciate other places, I will never be anything but a Texan at heart.
10. I have always LOVED the Boston winters. After growing up in a hot, humid, subtropical climate, six months of cold and snow has always been a novelty. But this year, I am already tired of it, and I cannot wait until it gets warm! Which won't be till June, dangit, dangit, dangit.
11. Fall is my favorite season. Oh, how I love fall. I just exult in the glorious weather. The leaves are fantastic, I love sweaters and scarves, I love apple picking and fall food, and there is a crispness in the air that is so invigorating and just brings me to life.
11. Hopefully, Nathan will graduate this year, and right now all his job prospects are in Houston. I am obsessed with the website har.com, which lists all the houses for sale in Houston, and I am on it like 10 hours a week or something ridiculous.
12. One of my dreams is to have a second home in the mountains somewhere (Colorado, northern New Mexico, Utah, etc.). I'd love to have a place where we can take our family to go ski or just hang out. And how much fun would it be to host Thanksgiving or Christmas there every year?
13. I love to host Thanksgiving. I have made a turkey every year since we got married, mostly because we moved away from our families right away. Plus, most of the time we've been in Boston, we've hosted our Bible study group for Thanksgiving. It is always so much fun. I love to have people over, and I love food. I am starting to realize that I like to serve people through cooking. I would just like to say, though, that it is much easier to have a potluck Thanksgiving than to cook everything yourself!
13. Another one of my dreams is to travel the world. I want to go practically everywhere, but especially all over Europe. I love all the history and would insist on a fabulous tour guide who could tell me all about it. I also think it would be oh so fun to go on one of those food tours where they take you to Italy or somewhere and teach you how to make the local food.
14. I absolutely will not walk around my house (or anywhere without carpet) without slippers on. I hate the feel of grit on my feet, and you can't help but have a little bit of grit/dust on the floor all the time when you have hardwoods.
15. The best thing in the world is when Noah gives you a really tight hug. Or when he lays his cheek on yours.
16. I hate grits, salmon, and canned asparagus.
17. In college, I had a Dr. Pepper addiction.
18. I have kept some sort of budget on Excel since I was 16. It has gotten increasingly more complicated over time, but it works really well.
19. I clip coupons and shop grocery store sales in order to save money, but I'm thwarted by the fact that I really like to cook and want to buy particular things. I don't want to eat just anything. I want to eat something SPECIAL.
20. I was an English major, but the parts of my major I liked were literature and analysis. I did not like writing. Which is problematic for an English major. :) I was just too impatient to like it all that much--I would much rather tell you what I think than write it down. But thinking out a paper does make you flesh out your opinions/analyses more, so I do think I got a lot out of writing all those pages and pages, but I did not really enjoy it. Now, though, I think I would have a much easier time of it. I don't mind writing as much, probably in part because my blog keeps me in the habit and has probably honed some of my skills.
21. It takes me a little while to become really good friends with someone, but once we are friends, I am extremely loyal, and I love the person and will keep up with them for years and years. I do not let friendships go very easily.
22. I graduated cum laude, and Nathan did not graduate with honors. Still, I think he is smarter than me. And his major was harder. Plus, he is about to be a Harvard Ph.D. But he may never quite get over the fact that I have those two little words on my diploma and he doesn't. :)
23. My favorite sounds are walking on gravel and walking on fresh, crunchy snow.
24. I enter the HGTV Dream Home giveaway every year.
25. Some things I like about my husband: he is an Eagle Scout and loves the outdoors; he can spot an animal in the wild faster than anyone I know; he likes to make puns that make you roll your eyes; you would never know how smart he is just by talking to him (this is a compliment); he is a great dad; his dreams often involve him having superpowers; he can do the best, most realistic velociraptor impression you have ever, ever seen; he is very kind; his humility taught me how to be humble.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
I Bet Your Husband Has Never Said This to You.
I had a bad hair day today. Here is what you would have heard if you had been at our house this morning, before Noah and I headed out for a play date.
Me: My hair is crazy today.
Nathan: Wow. Yeah, it is. You look like a witch.
Me: Thanks a lot.
Nathan: Don't scare all the little kids.
[Pause.]
Nathan: Don't eat all the little kids.
Me: My hair is crazy today.
Nathan: Wow. Yeah, it is. You look like a witch.
Me: Thanks a lot.
Nathan: Don't scare all the little kids.
[Pause.]
Nathan: Don't eat all the little kids.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Any Suggestions?
I need suggestions for a good devotional. I'd like to do one specifically for moms, I think. Has anyone done one that they really liked?
Thanks!
Thanks!
Monday, January 19, 2009
Little Things
A few little things about Noah:
A couple of weeks ago, I picked him up from the nursery at my mom's group, and one of the ladies said, "He was a little thief today!" Turns out, when they were giving the kids their snacks, Noah just went from tray to tray, stealing other kids' Cheerios and whatnot. That boy does love to eat.
Last week, when I picked him up, the lady said, "Bye bye, Noah the Explorer" (which actually kind of rhymed, with her Boston accent--Bostonians often misplace their R's.) Boy, was she right. He LOVES to explore. He hates to be penned in, and now that he is getting good at walking, he loves to just meander around our apartment and see what he can see.
He loves grapefruit. What kid likes grapefruit? I mean, it's sour! Personally, I love it, but I doubt I loved it when I was a year old. Nathan and I were eating a grapefruit the other day, and he was looking at us, just begging for some. So we gave him a little bit, fully expecting that he would make a sour face and refuse more. But no, he loved it.
Then, later that night, we gave him a piece of chocolate cake. And he didn't like it at all. In fact, after one tiny bite, he refused to eat any more. Now, I do have to say that this particular chocolate cake was a disappointment (especially since it was at one of our favorite restaurants), but still! He loves grapefruit but doesn't like chocolate?!
He got hurt three days in a row, poor kid. Does this happen to every kid once they start getting good at walking? Please tell me it does. Day 1 he busted his lip by falling face first into his high chair (he likes to push it and roll it around the kitchen). Day 2 he put his fingers into a door I was just shutting, and I totally smashed them. :( Day 3 he fell face first into an end table in the living room and hit the bone above his eye, which resulted in a bruise and a bump. Poor baby.
A couple of weeks ago, I picked him up from the nursery at my mom's group, and one of the ladies said, "He was a little thief today!" Turns out, when they were giving the kids their snacks, Noah just went from tray to tray, stealing other kids' Cheerios and whatnot. That boy does love to eat.
Last week, when I picked him up, the lady said, "Bye bye, Noah the Explorer" (which actually kind of rhymed, with her Boston accent--Bostonians often misplace their R's.) Boy, was she right. He LOVES to explore. He hates to be penned in, and now that he is getting good at walking, he loves to just meander around our apartment and see what he can see.
He loves grapefruit. What kid likes grapefruit? I mean, it's sour! Personally, I love it, but I doubt I loved it when I was a year old. Nathan and I were eating a grapefruit the other day, and he was looking at us, just begging for some. So we gave him a little bit, fully expecting that he would make a sour face and refuse more. But no, he loved it.
Then, later that night, we gave him a piece of chocolate cake. And he didn't like it at all. In fact, after one tiny bite, he refused to eat any more. Now, I do have to say that this particular chocolate cake was a disappointment (especially since it was at one of our favorite restaurants), but still! He loves grapefruit but doesn't like chocolate?!
He got hurt three days in a row, poor kid. Does this happen to every kid once they start getting good at walking? Please tell me it does. Day 1 he busted his lip by falling face first into his high chair (he likes to push it and roll it around the kitchen). Day 2 he put his fingers into a door I was just shutting, and I totally smashed them. :( Day 3 he fell face first into an end table in the living room and hit the bone above his eye, which resulted in a bruise and a bump. Poor baby.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Enchanted April
Oh my. I just finished The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim.
I mean, I literally finished it five minutes ago. I couldn't help but jump on the blog and tell you about it.
It was written in the 1920's, and it is perfectly lovely. It's about four women, three young and one old, who do not know each other but decide to go spend April at a castle in Italy. They are all very different and bring their different problems with them, but there is a magical beauty in the place that pretty much makes them all better people--makes them effusive in love--which in turn solves many of their problems.
The characters are lovely, but I was also struck by the beautiful prose. It's very pretty, but it is also witty. And the syntax is all mixed up so that you have to pay attention to the author's sentences in order not to get lost (which is not a bad thing), yet it still feels light and lilting. I think I had extra patience with the prose because the setting in the novel encourages it. The characters spend a lot of time simply looking at the beautiful gardens and landscape. In light of that, I couldn't do anything but take something lovely--even prose--a little more slowly, in order to really appreciate it and savor it.
It's classy, it's beautiful, it's thoughtful. You finish the book with a fondness (if not a love) for the characters. You can't ask for much more in a novel.
I read this book for my book club, and I'm so glad they chose it. The movie came out when I was not nearly old enough to appreciate it, but I will definitely be watching it sometime soon.
I mean, I literally finished it five minutes ago. I couldn't help but jump on the blog and tell you about it.
It was written in the 1920's, and it is perfectly lovely. It's about four women, three young and one old, who do not know each other but decide to go spend April at a castle in Italy. They are all very different and bring their different problems with them, but there is a magical beauty in the place that pretty much makes them all better people--makes them effusive in love--which in turn solves many of their problems.
The characters are lovely, but I was also struck by the beautiful prose. It's very pretty, but it is also witty. And the syntax is all mixed up so that you have to pay attention to the author's sentences in order not to get lost (which is not a bad thing), yet it still feels light and lilting. I think I had extra patience with the prose because the setting in the novel encourages it. The characters spend a lot of time simply looking at the beautiful gardens and landscape. In light of that, I couldn't do anything but take something lovely--even prose--a little more slowly, in order to really appreciate it and savor it.
It's classy, it's beautiful, it's thoughtful. You finish the book with a fondness (if not a love) for the characters. You can't ask for much more in a novel.
I read this book for my book club, and I'm so glad they chose it. The movie came out when I was not nearly old enough to appreciate it, but I will definitely be watching it sometime soon.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
It's Zero Degrees Outside!
What to do when it's zero degrees outside:
- Go outside, so you can experience zero degrees (feels like -10) and not have to say you were a weenie and stayed inside. If you are Nathan, go outside in a t-shirt and jeans, just to see what it's like and because you can't be bothered with a coat. Or shoes.
- Come inside to discover that the door to your baby's room is open and one of your cats has jumped into the crib to sleep next to the baby. It is, after all, the warmest room in the house. Chase said cat all over the house, snapping your fingers and saying, "No, Livvy!"
- Check the weather incessantly to see how much colder it's going to get.
- Make hot tea.
- Stick your cold hands on your spouse's warm stomach. Endure writhing of spouse, but don't move hands.
- Check temperature again.
- Turn on the electric blanket and go to bed.
- Go outside, so you can experience zero degrees (feels like -10) and not have to say you were a weenie and stayed inside. If you are Nathan, go outside in a t-shirt and jeans, just to see what it's like and because you can't be bothered with a coat. Or shoes.
- Come inside to discover that the door to your baby's room is open and one of your cats has jumped into the crib to sleep next to the baby. It is, after all, the warmest room in the house. Chase said cat all over the house, snapping your fingers and saying, "No, Livvy!"
- Check the weather incessantly to see how much colder it's going to get.
- Make hot tea.
- Stick your cold hands on your spouse's warm stomach. Endure writhing of spouse, but don't move hands.
- Check temperature again.
- Turn on the electric blanket and go to bed.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Noah's New Stats
Noah had his one-year wellness appointment today, and here are his new stats:
The pediatrician said he is developing really well--in fact, she said she hardly needed to give me the developmental handout, because we could write it ourselves. [Insert proud mama face here.] Good job, Noah T.!
Weight: 22 lbs., 4 oz. (50th percentile)
Length: 31 inches (85th percentile)
Length: 31 inches (85th percentile)
The pediatrician said he is developing really well--in fact, she said she hardly needed to give me the developmental handout, because we could write it ourselves. [Insert proud mama face here.] Good job, Noah T.!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
For the Record
For the record, I can't believe so many of you have taken like 45 minutes to read that incredibly long post about Noah's birth. I even posted it AFTER the one above it, and many of you still found it. Not that I was trying to hide it--I just didn't want it to take away from the other fun stuff I wanted to post about Noah's birthday, and I also didn't want to gross many of you out with birthing details. But y'all seem to be a pretty steely-stomached group.
I do have to apologize, though, to all the pregnant women out there who are starting to freak out about labor and read that post (I know of at least three of you). When I was pregnant, I had a crazy fascination for reading labor stories, but I would get completely freaked out after reading them. Take it from me--you'll make it!
I do have to apologize, though, to all the pregnant women out there who are starting to freak out about labor and read that post (I know of at least three of you). When I was pregnant, I had a crazy fascination for reading labor stories, but I would get completely freaked out after reading them. Take it from me--you'll make it!
Friday, January 9, 2009
Happy Birthday, Noah!
Today was Noah's first birthday! Can you believe it? He was such a happy boy today.
We got lots of boxes in the mail the other day. Here's what it looked like after we opened them all. Livvy loves boxes.
We got lots of boxes in the mail the other day. Here's what it looked like after we opened them all. Livvy loves boxes.
Apparently Noah does, too.
But could you pass up a good box when you were a kid? This one is just his size.
Noah's Booty
Noah's Birth Story
I began writing down Noah's birth story a few days after he was born, but I never posted it on the blog. But his first birthday is the perfect time to make sure the story doesn't get lost, right? I don't want to forget any of the details. So here you go. But I must warn you, this is the graphic version, with words like "uterus" and "cervix," so if you would rather have a more innocuous version, or if you don't want to read every single detail, check out this post.
It all started on Tuesday, January 8th, the day after I told you that I was having contractions without knowing it (see this post). Well, we had an ultrasound scheduled for 8am, so I set the alarm for 6am. When I woke up, I could tell that I was having contractions, but they were not very painful. Nevertheless, they seemed to be coming pretty close together, so I casually timed a couple of them, and they were only two or three minutes apart. Nathan and I weren't sure what to do; should we sit here for an hour and time them and miss the ultrasound appointment? Or should we go have the ultrasound? We decided we'd go ahead and go to the appointment, since I was not in pain, the hospital is right next to where we were going for the ultrasound, and because we really did want to know how big the baby was (which was the reason for the appointment).
Nathan's first thought, when I told him I was having contractions, was, "Well, I better pack my bag." So we packed our hospital bags and asked my dad to drive us, just in case it was, indeed, "time." We were both pretty excited and a little nervous. When we got to the ultrasound place, I told the receptionist that if there was any way they could hurry, that would be great, since I was pretty sure I was in labor. I thought this would elicit an excited response, but she just kind of half smiled and said, "Okay." I thought, "Gosh, lady, don't you understand that this is a big deal?? And that I might need to leave at any moment to go to the hospital???" But I guess she knew more than I did, because I didn't end up needing to jump off the ultrasound table and make a break to go have a baby. :)
As she took a look at the baby and was making her measurements, the ultrasound tech kept saying everything was "gorgeous." "Gorgeous heartbeat!" "Gorgeous movement!" "Gorgeous practice breathing!" It got to be kind of funny. Because Noah was so big at this point, it was hard to tell what she was looking at at any given time--even his face was hard to discern, in part because his hands were in the way. But we could see him sticking his tongue out, and we could see him practice breathing. And she did confirm that he was a boy, which relieved my mind. :) After a while, she left the room to go calculate his weight, based on the measurements she took. When she came back, she had that "you're going to hate me because I have bad news" look on her face. Before she told us his estimated weight, she reminded us that it was only an estimate plus or minus a pound, then she told us that it looked like he weighed 8 lbs. 15 oz. (which was pretty dang close to his birth weight of 8 lbs. 11 oz.). Honestly, I was relieved, not freaked out. I was so sure she was going to tell us he was 10 lbs. My grandpa was 14 lbs., so I was paranoid that huge babies might run in the family.
Tangent: Yes, my grandpa was 14 lbs. His mother was in labor for three days with him. Can you imagine?! That could have killed the poor woman! Granny Lou was a tough lady, though. She craved apples during that pregnancy, and after that she told every pregnant woman she met, "Don't eat apples!!" I think maybe she had gestational diabetes and didn't know it.
After we left the ultrasound office, I called my OB's office to ask them what I should do, since I knew I was having frequent contractions but hadn't had the chance to time them. They said to come into the office and they'd do another non-stress test to monitor me and see what was up. So we went back to Cambridge to have that done. I had progressed to a definite 2 cm. dilation, and my blood pressure was still a little high. I was definitely having contractions, but they had spaced out a good bit, so I was not at the point where I'd need to go to the hospital. However, since I was post-due, the baby was big, and my BP was still a little high, my doctor said she wanted me to go ahead and go in to be induced. Eek! Good thing we packed!
While we waited for my parents to come back and pick us up to go to the hospital, Nathan and I walked next door to Darwin's (an awesome sandwich shop) to get a breakfast sandwich. Mom and Dad picked us up, and we were on our way to have a baby! I remember reading that when you drive to the hospital, every bump in the road will hurt. But that was for women who were further along in their labor than me. Nevertheless, I still felt every bump, and I was really glad when we finally arrived.
After checking in, we were taken to a labor and delivery room, where I was to give birth. We got there around 11:30, but it wasn't until 2:15 or so that they finally started me on pitocin to induce labor. My contractions were already regular, and it took only a small dosage of pitocin to make them stronger. It turned out that the L&D floor was nearly full, so everyone was really busy. But the funny thing was that the time really flew the entire day, so that three hours actually went pretty quickly. In fact, this was a phenomenon that persisted for the entire time we were in the hospital--time flew. Waiting three hours for them to hook up an IV just didn't seem that long, nor did the entire labor process, for that matter. Maybe it was our excitement.
One encouraging thing that happened was that my water broke after being on the low level of pitocin for just a short while. It was just one more sign that my body was already ready to have a baby.
My parents came to the hospital with us, but unfortunately the hospital only allows two people onto the L&D floor--anyone else has to wait in the main lobby. So Nathan and my mom were the two who got nametags, although my mom did spend a lot of time with my dad. We called them whenever we had updates, and they'd then in turn call everyone else, which turned out to be a great arrangement. The only problem was that they wanted much more frequent updates than we were eventually able to give (since we didn't exactly take a break during pushing or the C-section to call with an update). Overall, our system worked pretty well, though.
So they hooked me up to pitocin, and we waited for something to happen. (By the way, they had to stick me four times--FOUR, and these are not small needles--before they got a vein that would work; I literally still have marks on my wrists and hand nearly a month later.) I have to say, that pitocin is amazing stuff. They turn it up a notch and let me tell you, YOU KNOW. Anyway, the way it works when you get induced is that they start you off on a low dosage of pitocin, and they up the dosage every 15 minutes until you're in a good labor pattern (in other words, until you're contracting nice and frequently). They only had to turn it up two times before I was indisputably in labor, which is pretty rapid progression. I started feeling those contractions, my friends!
Nathan and I tried a bunch of the pain control methods we learned in our childbirth class. One of the things we did was to try several different positions, which helps your labor progress and also may be more comfortable. So I stood, leaned on Nathan and swayed, sat in a rocking chair, laid in the bed, etc. Our childbirth instructor's mantra was to "eat, drink, pee, change position" every hour (sorry if that's gross, but hey, birth is a messy process, anyway) to keep labor progressing and to keep the mama in good condition. So that's what we did. I had come prepared with apple sauce, boxed juice, and granola bars packed in my bag. We also did some breathing exercises, which helped to a degree. But those contractions were definitely getting stronger and more painful.
They checked my progress a couple hours later and said I was still at 2 cm. dilated. I was surprised and a little disconcerted by that. I was obviously having contractions, people! Strong ones! So why wasn't my body reacting? The nurse said that during inductions, many times it takes the mother's body a while to catch up with the progress of labor. In other words, I was having strong and frequent enough contractions to be further along, but my body hadn't gotten the message yet. At about 5:00, I was feeling pretty badly. I was in some real pain, and those stinking breathing exercises were doing ZIP. I eventually gave them up and just concentrated on taking deep breaths.
Funny tangent: My mom divided her time between being in the room with me and hanging out with my dad in the main lobby. Around this point, she told my dad that I was in a lot of pain and that I had given up on my breathing. He freaked out and said, "She quit breathing?!" Ha! Took him a second. Just goes to show you how worked up everyone was. :)
Anyway, around 5:00 the nurse and the doctor asked me if I was ready to have my epidural. Yes, I went into labor knowing that I wanted to have one, but I wanted to wait until I was at least 5 or 6 cm. dilated before getting it so that I could continue to move around and change positions in order to help the baby progress for as long as possible. At this point, I was probably still at only 2 cm. From everything I had read and been told, that is way too early to get an epidural, because epidurals can slow down your labor, so they typically wait until you're in a good contraction pattern and further along before they will give you one. However, my doctor and nurse told me I could have one whenever I wanted, I suppose because I was in a good contraction pattern. At 5:00 I told them I wanted to try to hold out one more hour.
That was one tough hour, and I would say this and the C-section were the roughest parts of giving birth. I started shaking uncontrollably, which I had heard only happens once you reach 8 cm. or so. I guess this was just another sign of my cervix being behind the rest of my body. My contractions got extremely painful.
Long story short, I didn't last the whole hour. The nurse came in at one point, looked at me, and said that the reward at the end is a healthy baby, not how far you went without pain meds. So at 5:55 I called the nurse and told her I was ready for my epidural. The stinky thing is that once you are ready for the epidural, you are REALLY ready, yet it still takes at least 30 minutes before you get any relief. In my case, it was closer to an hour, because the anesthesiologist took a while to get there, and he had to poke me twice in the spine to find a good spot (which is a lot of fun, let me tell you), all of this while I'm having really hard contractions. The nurse was so good at encouraging me through them, telling me to take deep breaths, talking me through what the doctor was doing, and so on. But even after the anesthesiologist had finished, I still didn't get any relief for a while, because he had to keep giving me more and more medication--the dosage he was giving me was too low to help the pain subside. I guess that tells you how strong that pitocin was working for me--they were surprised every time they had to up my epidural meds, but what they gave me initially barely took the edge off.
I had what they call a "walking epidural," which means that the dosage is not intended to knock out every bit of sensation from your chest down, like a regular epidural does, the idea being that you want to keep some sensation so that you can push effectively. However, the term "walking" is misleading, because your legs are jelly, and you are not able to walk at all. Anyway, they give you a steady dosage of medication through the tube in your back, but they also give you this little button to push when you want a little extra. Man, was I pushing that button, and the dang extra medication didn't do anything at all. It took a while for them to figure out that I just needed a higher dose of the good stuff. And I didn't know how much the epidural was supposed to be helping, so when the nurse said to let her know when the pain had subsided, I asked her exactly what that meant, because I wanted to know how little I was supposed to be feeling. She said that when they asked me how a particular contraction felt, I'd say, "What contraction?" When she said that, I felt like saying Amen and Hallelujah. It seemed like too much to expect that I'd be literally pain-free.
Shortly after this, around 7:30 or so, they checked my progress and found that I had dilated to 4 cm. Yay! I was finally comfortable, and my labor was progressing! How nifty! Now all we had to do was settle in for the long haul and let my body (and the pitocin) do what they were supposed to do: dilate. I got pretty relaxed, and since there really wasn't anything to do for the several hours we expected to be waiting before I could push, Nathan pulled out my Pride and Prejudice and began reading it out loud to me. Don't I have a nice husband? :) So he read about Elizabeth and Jane and Wickham for a long time. I concentrated on resting and relaxing so my body could just do its thing; plus, I figured I had a lot of work to do later, and as long as I had the ability, I ought to be resting up for it. I even remember dozing off a couple of times while Nathan was reading--can you imagine?! Dozing off during active labor! So let me just say this: if you are pregnant and you are not opposed to it, my advice to you is to TAKE THE DRUGS. TAKE THEM. They'll help you rest up for the hard part.
After around an hour or so, I started to get uncomfortable. Those contractions were getting painful again; I could definitely feel them through the epidural. This went on for about an hour before the nurse came back, and when I told her about it, she decided it was time to check me again. So at about 10:00, they checked my progress, and we were shocked and amazed to find that I was completely dilated! Yeah, baby! Four centimeters to ten in two and a half hours! The doctor said, "Well, it looks like it's time to start pushing."
I was overwhelmed with emotions: for one thing, I was really proud that my body was doing what it was supposed to be doing, with minimal help from the pitocin (they had even taken me off it completely for a while). I was proud that my body was so good at this labor thing. But mostly, what I felt was apprehension. I just felt totally emotionally unprepared to push. I think that at this point, I started to get the shakes pretty badly again. I'd had them through the last several hours, but they were coming on strong because of all the hormones. I also noticed that they'd get worse when I got nervous, and I since I was nervous about pushing, they started getting dramatic. They pretty much stayed dramatic throughout the pushing and the C-section. Anyway, to allay my nerves, Nathan talked me through the pushing process again, based on what we knew, and we got ready. They upped my epidural, and the nurse came back in and talked me through how to push. After a couple of tries, I got the hang of it.
Nathan was a huge help at this point. He was totally into the whole thing. He was helping with the whole process, and he could see the baby's head almost immediately. He says it was only about 30 minutes or so before they said the baby's position was +2, which means he was two-thirds of the way down the birth canal. Shortly thereafter, the nurse said that if I was having a five-pound baby, he would have arrived already. Too bad my kid was nearly nine pounds.
Anyway, Nathan and the nurse were amazing. I don't know how people do something like give birth without encouragement. Every time it was time to push, they'd say, "Go go go go go! Great job!" It got to the point where I was wondering why the heck they didn't go get the doctor, because surely I was about to pop this kid out, the way they were going on about it. :) I started to be proud of my ability to do this whole giving birth thing.
Back to my old friend, the pitocin. At some point, the nurse decided that my labor pattern was so consistent that she'd try taking me off the drug to see if my body would pick up the work itself, and it did. Just one more sign that I was ready to go into labor, anyway. In fact, while I was pushing, the contractions were coming about every minute. She said that she had literally never seen anyone contract so frequently or so consistently.
After I had been pushing about an hour and a half, the doctor suggested we go ahead and do a C-section, because the baby had not moved down the birth canal any further. I was crestfallen, because I had been feeling so good about how well my labor had been going up to that point. But we had figured out that the baby was face up, because I was feeling some pain in my lower back (they're supposed to be face down; when they're face up, the part of their head that is being pushed through the birth canal is broader, so it's harder to push them out; there's also more pain involved because the back of the head presses on the mom's lower back). In addition to him being sunny-side-up, as they say, his body was transverse in the uterus. So basically, he was face up when he should have been face down, and the rest of his body was lying sideways. But I really wanted to keep pushing, because it still seemed to me that there was a chance I could avoid a C-section, especially if we could get the kiddo to turn. The doctor said that would be fine, and she let me make that decision, which I was really grateful for. It would have stunk to always have wondered if it would have worked out if they had just given me a little more time.
As it turned out, I pushed for another hour and a half and the baby didn't move at all. We tried pushing in different positions, and that didn't work, either. After a total of three hours, I was getting pretty tired. The nurse asked me if I wanted to keep pushing, and I said, "Not if it's not going to work." So we decided to go in for the C-section, which turned out to be a good decision, because afterwards the doctor said that the baby definitely would not have come any other way. Even though I was doing great at pushing, my body was cooperating, and Noah was trying to turn himself, a C-section was necessary because of Noah's size and position. I was still glad I pushed for as long as I did, though, because I felt like I really accomplished something. And when my regular OB came by my postpartum room the next day, she told me that I got credit for pushing, and that my body would know what to do with the next baby--it wouldn't be like going through a first labor again. Nifty! That was a perk I didn't anticipate.
Now, let me just tell you something about a C-section. I feel like I can say this, since I experienced both the Cesarean and every part of regular labor except the actual birth: a regular birth would be so much easier. I know it does not seem intuitive at all, and the epidural is certainly a factor in my saying this, but I just came away with the feeling that giving birth vaginally was so much more of a natural process and seemed, somehow, easier. The C-section, although I am grateful for it, was a little rough.
One of the toughest things was the anesthesia they gave me--they started pumping it in through the epidural as soon as I got into the operating room, before Nathan was allowed to come in. I really wished he had been there, because it was one of my most painful times in the whole process. My shoulders started cramping really badly. I thought it was from all the hard pushing I had been doing, but eventually I said something about it to the team of anesthesiologists, and one doctor said it was the drugs they were giving me. Oh my gosh, y'all, it HURT. That shoulder pain was some of the worst pain of the whole experience, and that, with a curtain draped across you, your arms out to your sides, the driest mouth you can imagine, and an oxygen mask on (which was making my mouth even drier and which had a plasticky smell that made me kind of sick), you can see why I felt like the C-section was just a less natural experience, and, therefore, more scary. I also still had the shakes pretty badly, which was making me even more nervous.
Eventually, Nathan arrived, all dressed up in scrubs, and once he got there, they got started. It was a comfort to have him there, and I just kept asking him to talk to me to kind of distract me, because I was really apprehensive through the whole thing. I have no idea how long it was before I felt them pull the baby out--I felt a lot of pressure come off my belly, so I knew when that happened. I was so caught up in the idea of what was happening to me that I forgot to be excited about the baby being born, but pretty soon I heard him cry, and that got me focused on him! He let out two squawks. I think my mouth opened a little bit, like, "Oh, I forgot about this part, and how wonderful!" And then I think I told Nathan that he sounded like a cat. Go figure. I was on drugs.
Nathan left his post at my head to go look at the baby and take pictures, and he brought him over for me to see shortly after that. I got to kiss the baby, and somewhere in here I heard Nathan say to someone, "Um, I think he's turning blue." It turns out that they hadn't suctioned everything out of the baby's lungs, and after they handed him over to Nathan, he got a little lethargic and started turning blue. So Nathan took him back to the nurse, who quickly suctioned him again, and all was well.
While Nathan was showing him to me, he asked, "Well? Do you think he's a Noah?" You see, we had it narrowed down to two names, with Noah being our top pick, but Nathan wanted to wait until we saw the baby before making a final decision. I looked at the baby, perplexed, and said, "I think I want to hold him first." I could not think whether he seemed like a Noah or the other name we had in mind. Later, in recovery, Nathan asked me again what I thought we should name him. I think I was just too tired at that point to make such a huge decision. It seemed like way too big of a deal to decide on my tired, medicated brain. I said I thought Noah would be good, but I just couldn't decide. Nathan pointed out that my parents were dying to see the baby, and that they were definitely going to want to know his name. So I said, "Well, what do you think?" "I like Noah." "Okay." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I think so." A few hours later, I told Nathan that I just didn't have a good feeling about naming the baby Noah. It was all that being-tired-and-making-a-big-decision stuff. However, you'll be happy to know that after a couple of hours of sleep, we were both really happy with the decision. I give myself grace on this after being up for 24 hours and going through both labor and having major surgery. :) And now I look at him and I can't imagine that he would be named anything else.
I have to say that one of the biggest advantages to having a C-section is that you get to spend several extra days in the hospital. For first time parents who have no experience taking care of a newborn, nursing, etc., a few extra days with experienced nurses is a real blessing. Then we went home and got to enjoy our boy!
It all started on Tuesday, January 8th, the day after I told you that I was having contractions without knowing it (see this post). Well, we had an ultrasound scheduled for 8am, so I set the alarm for 6am. When I woke up, I could tell that I was having contractions, but they were not very painful. Nevertheless, they seemed to be coming pretty close together, so I casually timed a couple of them, and they were only two or three minutes apart. Nathan and I weren't sure what to do; should we sit here for an hour and time them and miss the ultrasound appointment? Or should we go have the ultrasound? We decided we'd go ahead and go to the appointment, since I was not in pain, the hospital is right next to where we were going for the ultrasound, and because we really did want to know how big the baby was (which was the reason for the appointment).
Nathan's first thought, when I told him I was having contractions, was, "Well, I better pack my bag." So we packed our hospital bags and asked my dad to drive us, just in case it was, indeed, "time." We were both pretty excited and a little nervous. When we got to the ultrasound place, I told the receptionist that if there was any way they could hurry, that would be great, since I was pretty sure I was in labor. I thought this would elicit an excited response, but she just kind of half smiled and said, "Okay." I thought, "Gosh, lady, don't you understand that this is a big deal?? And that I might need to leave at any moment to go to the hospital???" But I guess she knew more than I did, because I didn't end up needing to jump off the ultrasound table and make a break to go have a baby. :)
As she took a look at the baby and was making her measurements, the ultrasound tech kept saying everything was "gorgeous." "Gorgeous heartbeat!" "Gorgeous movement!" "Gorgeous practice breathing!" It got to be kind of funny. Because Noah was so big at this point, it was hard to tell what she was looking at at any given time--even his face was hard to discern, in part because his hands were in the way. But we could see him sticking his tongue out, and we could see him practice breathing. And she did confirm that he was a boy, which relieved my mind. :) After a while, she left the room to go calculate his weight, based on the measurements she took. When she came back, she had that "you're going to hate me because I have bad news" look on her face. Before she told us his estimated weight, she reminded us that it was only an estimate plus or minus a pound, then she told us that it looked like he weighed 8 lbs. 15 oz. (which was pretty dang close to his birth weight of 8 lbs. 11 oz.). Honestly, I was relieved, not freaked out. I was so sure she was going to tell us he was 10 lbs. My grandpa was 14 lbs., so I was paranoid that huge babies might run in the family.
Tangent: Yes, my grandpa was 14 lbs. His mother was in labor for three days with him. Can you imagine?! That could have killed the poor woman! Granny Lou was a tough lady, though. She craved apples during that pregnancy, and after that she told every pregnant woman she met, "Don't eat apples!!" I think maybe she had gestational diabetes and didn't know it.
After we left the ultrasound office, I called my OB's office to ask them what I should do, since I knew I was having frequent contractions but hadn't had the chance to time them. They said to come into the office and they'd do another non-stress test to monitor me and see what was up. So we went back to Cambridge to have that done. I had progressed to a definite 2 cm. dilation, and my blood pressure was still a little high. I was definitely having contractions, but they had spaced out a good bit, so I was not at the point where I'd need to go to the hospital. However, since I was post-due, the baby was big, and my BP was still a little high, my doctor said she wanted me to go ahead and go in to be induced. Eek! Good thing we packed!
While we waited for my parents to come back and pick us up to go to the hospital, Nathan and I walked next door to Darwin's (an awesome sandwich shop) to get a breakfast sandwich. Mom and Dad picked us up, and we were on our way to have a baby! I remember reading that when you drive to the hospital, every bump in the road will hurt. But that was for women who were further along in their labor than me. Nevertheless, I still felt every bump, and I was really glad when we finally arrived.
After checking in, we were taken to a labor and delivery room, where I was to give birth. We got there around 11:30, but it wasn't until 2:15 or so that they finally started me on pitocin to induce labor. My contractions were already regular, and it took only a small dosage of pitocin to make them stronger. It turned out that the L&D floor was nearly full, so everyone was really busy. But the funny thing was that the time really flew the entire day, so that three hours actually went pretty quickly. In fact, this was a phenomenon that persisted for the entire time we were in the hospital--time flew. Waiting three hours for them to hook up an IV just didn't seem that long, nor did the entire labor process, for that matter. Maybe it was our excitement.
One encouraging thing that happened was that my water broke after being on the low level of pitocin for just a short while. It was just one more sign that my body was already ready to have a baby.
My parents came to the hospital with us, but unfortunately the hospital only allows two people onto the L&D floor--anyone else has to wait in the main lobby. So Nathan and my mom were the two who got nametags, although my mom did spend a lot of time with my dad. We called them whenever we had updates, and they'd then in turn call everyone else, which turned out to be a great arrangement. The only problem was that they wanted much more frequent updates than we were eventually able to give (since we didn't exactly take a break during pushing or the C-section to call with an update). Overall, our system worked pretty well, though.
So they hooked me up to pitocin, and we waited for something to happen. (By the way, they had to stick me four times--FOUR, and these are not small needles--before they got a vein that would work; I literally still have marks on my wrists and hand nearly a month later.) I have to say, that pitocin is amazing stuff. They turn it up a notch and let me tell you, YOU KNOW. Anyway, the way it works when you get induced is that they start you off on a low dosage of pitocin, and they up the dosage every 15 minutes until you're in a good labor pattern (in other words, until you're contracting nice and frequently). They only had to turn it up two times before I was indisputably in labor, which is pretty rapid progression. I started feeling those contractions, my friends!
Nathan and I tried a bunch of the pain control methods we learned in our childbirth class. One of the things we did was to try several different positions, which helps your labor progress and also may be more comfortable. So I stood, leaned on Nathan and swayed, sat in a rocking chair, laid in the bed, etc. Our childbirth instructor's mantra was to "eat, drink, pee, change position" every hour (sorry if that's gross, but hey, birth is a messy process, anyway) to keep labor progressing and to keep the mama in good condition. So that's what we did. I had come prepared with apple sauce, boxed juice, and granola bars packed in my bag. We also did some breathing exercises, which helped to a degree. But those contractions were definitely getting stronger and more painful.
They checked my progress a couple hours later and said I was still at 2 cm. dilated. I was surprised and a little disconcerted by that. I was obviously having contractions, people! Strong ones! So why wasn't my body reacting? The nurse said that during inductions, many times it takes the mother's body a while to catch up with the progress of labor. In other words, I was having strong and frequent enough contractions to be further along, but my body hadn't gotten the message yet. At about 5:00, I was feeling pretty badly. I was in some real pain, and those stinking breathing exercises were doing ZIP. I eventually gave them up and just concentrated on taking deep breaths.
Funny tangent: My mom divided her time between being in the room with me and hanging out with my dad in the main lobby. Around this point, she told my dad that I was in a lot of pain and that I had given up on my breathing. He freaked out and said, "She quit breathing?!" Ha! Took him a second. Just goes to show you how worked up everyone was. :)
Anyway, around 5:00 the nurse and the doctor asked me if I was ready to have my epidural. Yes, I went into labor knowing that I wanted to have one, but I wanted to wait until I was at least 5 or 6 cm. dilated before getting it so that I could continue to move around and change positions in order to help the baby progress for as long as possible. At this point, I was probably still at only 2 cm. From everything I had read and been told, that is way too early to get an epidural, because epidurals can slow down your labor, so they typically wait until you're in a good contraction pattern and further along before they will give you one. However, my doctor and nurse told me I could have one whenever I wanted, I suppose because I was in a good contraction pattern. At 5:00 I told them I wanted to try to hold out one more hour.
That was one tough hour, and I would say this and the C-section were the roughest parts of giving birth. I started shaking uncontrollably, which I had heard only happens once you reach 8 cm. or so. I guess this was just another sign of my cervix being behind the rest of my body. My contractions got extremely painful.
Long story short, I didn't last the whole hour. The nurse came in at one point, looked at me, and said that the reward at the end is a healthy baby, not how far you went without pain meds. So at 5:55 I called the nurse and told her I was ready for my epidural. The stinky thing is that once you are ready for the epidural, you are REALLY ready, yet it still takes at least 30 minutes before you get any relief. In my case, it was closer to an hour, because the anesthesiologist took a while to get there, and he had to poke me twice in the spine to find a good spot (which is a lot of fun, let me tell you), all of this while I'm having really hard contractions. The nurse was so good at encouraging me through them, telling me to take deep breaths, talking me through what the doctor was doing, and so on. But even after the anesthesiologist had finished, I still didn't get any relief for a while, because he had to keep giving me more and more medication--the dosage he was giving me was too low to help the pain subside. I guess that tells you how strong that pitocin was working for me--they were surprised every time they had to up my epidural meds, but what they gave me initially barely took the edge off.
I had what they call a "walking epidural," which means that the dosage is not intended to knock out every bit of sensation from your chest down, like a regular epidural does, the idea being that you want to keep some sensation so that you can push effectively. However, the term "walking" is misleading, because your legs are jelly, and you are not able to walk at all. Anyway, they give you a steady dosage of medication through the tube in your back, but they also give you this little button to push when you want a little extra. Man, was I pushing that button, and the dang extra medication didn't do anything at all. It took a while for them to figure out that I just needed a higher dose of the good stuff. And I didn't know how much the epidural was supposed to be helping, so when the nurse said to let her know when the pain had subsided, I asked her exactly what that meant, because I wanted to know how little I was supposed to be feeling. She said that when they asked me how a particular contraction felt, I'd say, "What contraction?" When she said that, I felt like saying Amen and Hallelujah. It seemed like too much to expect that I'd be literally pain-free.
Shortly after this, around 7:30 or so, they checked my progress and found that I had dilated to 4 cm. Yay! I was finally comfortable, and my labor was progressing! How nifty! Now all we had to do was settle in for the long haul and let my body (and the pitocin) do what they were supposed to do: dilate. I got pretty relaxed, and since there really wasn't anything to do for the several hours we expected to be waiting before I could push, Nathan pulled out my Pride and Prejudice and began reading it out loud to me. Don't I have a nice husband? :) So he read about Elizabeth and Jane and Wickham for a long time. I concentrated on resting and relaxing so my body could just do its thing; plus, I figured I had a lot of work to do later, and as long as I had the ability, I ought to be resting up for it. I even remember dozing off a couple of times while Nathan was reading--can you imagine?! Dozing off during active labor! So let me just say this: if you are pregnant and you are not opposed to it, my advice to you is to TAKE THE DRUGS. TAKE THEM. They'll help you rest up for the hard part.
After around an hour or so, I started to get uncomfortable. Those contractions were getting painful again; I could definitely feel them through the epidural. This went on for about an hour before the nurse came back, and when I told her about it, she decided it was time to check me again. So at about 10:00, they checked my progress, and we were shocked and amazed to find that I was completely dilated! Yeah, baby! Four centimeters to ten in two and a half hours! The doctor said, "Well, it looks like it's time to start pushing."
I was overwhelmed with emotions: for one thing, I was really proud that my body was doing what it was supposed to be doing, with minimal help from the pitocin (they had even taken me off it completely for a while). I was proud that my body was so good at this labor thing. But mostly, what I felt was apprehension. I just felt totally emotionally unprepared to push. I think that at this point, I started to get the shakes pretty badly again. I'd had them through the last several hours, but they were coming on strong because of all the hormones. I also noticed that they'd get worse when I got nervous, and I since I was nervous about pushing, they started getting dramatic. They pretty much stayed dramatic throughout the pushing and the C-section. Anyway, to allay my nerves, Nathan talked me through the pushing process again, based on what we knew, and we got ready. They upped my epidural, and the nurse came back in and talked me through how to push. After a couple of tries, I got the hang of it.
Nathan was a huge help at this point. He was totally into the whole thing. He was helping with the whole process, and he could see the baby's head almost immediately. He says it was only about 30 minutes or so before they said the baby's position was +2, which means he was two-thirds of the way down the birth canal. Shortly thereafter, the nurse said that if I was having a five-pound baby, he would have arrived already. Too bad my kid was nearly nine pounds.
Anyway, Nathan and the nurse were amazing. I don't know how people do something like give birth without encouragement. Every time it was time to push, they'd say, "Go go go go go! Great job!" It got to the point where I was wondering why the heck they didn't go get the doctor, because surely I was about to pop this kid out, the way they were going on about it. :) I started to be proud of my ability to do this whole giving birth thing.
Back to my old friend, the pitocin. At some point, the nurse decided that my labor pattern was so consistent that she'd try taking me off the drug to see if my body would pick up the work itself, and it did. Just one more sign that I was ready to go into labor, anyway. In fact, while I was pushing, the contractions were coming about every minute. She said that she had literally never seen anyone contract so frequently or so consistently.
After I had been pushing about an hour and a half, the doctor suggested we go ahead and do a C-section, because the baby had not moved down the birth canal any further. I was crestfallen, because I had been feeling so good about how well my labor had been going up to that point. But we had figured out that the baby was face up, because I was feeling some pain in my lower back (they're supposed to be face down; when they're face up, the part of their head that is being pushed through the birth canal is broader, so it's harder to push them out; there's also more pain involved because the back of the head presses on the mom's lower back). In addition to him being sunny-side-up, as they say, his body was transverse in the uterus. So basically, he was face up when he should have been face down, and the rest of his body was lying sideways. But I really wanted to keep pushing, because it still seemed to me that there was a chance I could avoid a C-section, especially if we could get the kiddo to turn. The doctor said that would be fine, and she let me make that decision, which I was really grateful for. It would have stunk to always have wondered if it would have worked out if they had just given me a little more time.
As it turned out, I pushed for another hour and a half and the baby didn't move at all. We tried pushing in different positions, and that didn't work, either. After a total of three hours, I was getting pretty tired. The nurse asked me if I wanted to keep pushing, and I said, "Not if it's not going to work." So we decided to go in for the C-section, which turned out to be a good decision, because afterwards the doctor said that the baby definitely would not have come any other way. Even though I was doing great at pushing, my body was cooperating, and Noah was trying to turn himself, a C-section was necessary because of Noah's size and position. I was still glad I pushed for as long as I did, though, because I felt like I really accomplished something. And when my regular OB came by my postpartum room the next day, she told me that I got credit for pushing, and that my body would know what to do with the next baby--it wouldn't be like going through a first labor again. Nifty! That was a perk I didn't anticipate.
Now, let me just tell you something about a C-section. I feel like I can say this, since I experienced both the Cesarean and every part of regular labor except the actual birth: a regular birth would be so much easier. I know it does not seem intuitive at all, and the epidural is certainly a factor in my saying this, but I just came away with the feeling that giving birth vaginally was so much more of a natural process and seemed, somehow, easier. The C-section, although I am grateful for it, was a little rough.
One of the toughest things was the anesthesia they gave me--they started pumping it in through the epidural as soon as I got into the operating room, before Nathan was allowed to come in. I really wished he had been there, because it was one of my most painful times in the whole process. My shoulders started cramping really badly. I thought it was from all the hard pushing I had been doing, but eventually I said something about it to the team of anesthesiologists, and one doctor said it was the drugs they were giving me. Oh my gosh, y'all, it HURT. That shoulder pain was some of the worst pain of the whole experience, and that, with a curtain draped across you, your arms out to your sides, the driest mouth you can imagine, and an oxygen mask on (which was making my mouth even drier and which had a plasticky smell that made me kind of sick), you can see why I felt like the C-section was just a less natural experience, and, therefore, more scary. I also still had the shakes pretty badly, which was making me even more nervous.
Eventually, Nathan arrived, all dressed up in scrubs, and once he got there, they got started. It was a comfort to have him there, and I just kept asking him to talk to me to kind of distract me, because I was really apprehensive through the whole thing. I have no idea how long it was before I felt them pull the baby out--I felt a lot of pressure come off my belly, so I knew when that happened. I was so caught up in the idea of what was happening to me that I forgot to be excited about the baby being born, but pretty soon I heard him cry, and that got me focused on him! He let out two squawks. I think my mouth opened a little bit, like, "Oh, I forgot about this part, and how wonderful!" And then I think I told Nathan that he sounded like a cat. Go figure. I was on drugs.
Nathan left his post at my head to go look at the baby and take pictures, and he brought him over for me to see shortly after that. I got to kiss the baby, and somewhere in here I heard Nathan say to someone, "Um, I think he's turning blue." It turns out that they hadn't suctioned everything out of the baby's lungs, and after they handed him over to Nathan, he got a little lethargic and started turning blue. So Nathan took him back to the nurse, who quickly suctioned him again, and all was well.
While Nathan was showing him to me, he asked, "Well? Do you think he's a Noah?" You see, we had it narrowed down to two names, with Noah being our top pick, but Nathan wanted to wait until we saw the baby before making a final decision. I looked at the baby, perplexed, and said, "I think I want to hold him first." I could not think whether he seemed like a Noah or the other name we had in mind. Later, in recovery, Nathan asked me again what I thought we should name him. I think I was just too tired at that point to make such a huge decision. It seemed like way too big of a deal to decide on my tired, medicated brain. I said I thought Noah would be good, but I just couldn't decide. Nathan pointed out that my parents were dying to see the baby, and that they were definitely going to want to know his name. So I said, "Well, what do you think?" "I like Noah." "Okay." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I think so." A few hours later, I told Nathan that I just didn't have a good feeling about naming the baby Noah. It was all that being-tired-and-making-a-big-decision stuff. However, you'll be happy to know that after a couple of hours of sleep, we were both really happy with the decision. I give myself grace on this after being up for 24 hours and going through both labor and having major surgery. :) And now I look at him and I can't imagine that he would be named anything else.
I have to say that one of the biggest advantages to having a C-section is that you get to spend several extra days in the hospital. For first time parents who have no experience taking care of a newborn, nursing, etc., a few extra days with experienced nurses is a real blessing. Then we went home and got to enjoy our boy!
Noah Thomas Benesh
born January 9, 2008, 1:41am
8 lbs., 11 oz.
born January 9, 2008, 1:41am
8 lbs., 11 oz.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
The Sonneteer
Has anyone checked out Papa's blog, linked to the right? That's my grandfather. ("Papa," by the way, is pronounced "Pawpaw"--I have technically misspelled it since I first learned to write, and I am not going to unlearn how to spell it now).
Papa is a smartie. He has done many things in his life, including teaching statistics, being a dean of education, and serving in the Navy. But one of the most interesting things about him is that he writes poetry, mostly epic poems and sonnets. He likes those 16th/17th century British guys, like me, and he writes in their style.
Not long ago, he started a blog publishing his sonnets and thoughts for the day. Now, if I did something like that, I'd post once or twice a week (if that!). But not Papa. He posts every single day, at the same time of day. When we went home over Christmas, I noticed that he has a rather strict daily schedule. He spends several hours in the morning composing his poem and his blog post and getting it online, then he eats lunch, takes a nap, and works some more in the afternoon.
What struck me about this is how seriously he takes it. For me, my blog is just a nice social outlet. I don't really intend to change the world through stories about my family and anecdotes from my life. But Papa is so focused because he sees what he does as serious work. Part of that has to do with the fact that, through a miracle, God healed him of blindness that was supposed to be permanent. Now Papa feels that he wants to praise God by telling others about the miracle, as well as by giving as an offering that which he can do excellently: write poetry.
I write all this so you'll go check out his blog, and check it often. You might be surprised at how much you like sonnets.
Papa is a smartie. He has done many things in his life, including teaching statistics, being a dean of education, and serving in the Navy. But one of the most interesting things about him is that he writes poetry, mostly epic poems and sonnets. He likes those 16th/17th century British guys, like me, and he writes in their style.
Not long ago, he started a blog publishing his sonnets and thoughts for the day. Now, if I did something like that, I'd post once or twice a week (if that!). But not Papa. He posts every single day, at the same time of day. When we went home over Christmas, I noticed that he has a rather strict daily schedule. He spends several hours in the morning composing his poem and his blog post and getting it online, then he eats lunch, takes a nap, and works some more in the afternoon.
What struck me about this is how seriously he takes it. For me, my blog is just a nice social outlet. I don't really intend to change the world through stories about my family and anecdotes from my life. But Papa is so focused because he sees what he does as serious work. Part of that has to do with the fact that, through a miracle, God healed him of blindness that was supposed to be permanent. Now Papa feels that he wants to praise God by telling others about the miracle, as well as by giving as an offering that which he can do excellently: write poetry.
I write all this so you'll go check out his blog, and check it often. You might be surprised at how much you like sonnets.
Discipline Diaries, Entry #2: "Sometimes It's Worth Paying For"
In case you missed it, Entry #1 was the last post. Yes, I am going to continue talking about my experiences thus far disciplining a 1-year old (well, an almost 1-year old). I apologize if this bores you, I really do, because I know that before I had a child, I had just about no interest in them. But raising one = Lauren and Nathan's life these days, so, dear readers, that's whatcha get.
Anyway, here's the thing. When I was a kid, I lived for very few things. Among them were reading and tickling my brother. That second one might strike you as a little strange, but, you see, Ken is about the most ticklish person on the face of the earth. And boy, did I love to torture--excuse me, tickle--Ken. Oh my gosh, it was so fun.
I don't think I can quite convey how awesome it was to tickle Ken. The best word for it is satisfying, but that doesn't give you a sense of how seriously I enjoyed it. Looking back on it, tickling my brother was almost like an addiction. When I tickled him, it was like a craving had been fulfilled, or like a thirst had been quenched. Weird, but true.
So I tickled Ken just about every chance I got. The poor guy--once I got started, he was debilitated and pretty much couldn't fight back. I could get him going so well that I could touch him anywhere, even in a spot that isn't normally ticklish (like his forehead), and it would tickle him. I really did torture him.
Eventually, I developed strategies. For example, the best place to catch him and tickle him was in the car, because he couldn't get away. This, however, had a drawback, which was that my parents were witnesses of my cruelty, which always ended in punishment for me, because, as you can imagine, it got beyond the fun and games stage.
My parents came up with a lot of punishments for my tickling over the years. The one they say finally worked was making me pay a quarter (and later, a dollar) every time I tickled Ken. I was a penny-pincher, and I wanted to save my money for the stuff I really wanted, so I hated to be fined, docked, or monetarily punished in any way. But at some point, I realized that sometimes, dangit, it's just worth it. Sometimes, even though I knew an unpleasant punishment was coming my way, it was still worth it to me to put up with paying the price, literally, in order to have the pleasure of doing the crime.
Well, I think Noah must be like his mama. For some reason, he really loves pulling a wire that comes out of the back of our TV. The other thing he loves to do is swivel our flat screen. Okay, both of those things are not only annoying but dangerous. I can just see our heavy TV falling on him, and it freaks me out. So we have been telling him "no" and slapping his hand. (We have no doubt that he understands that what he is doing is wrong. He'll often turn and look at us with a wry, mischievous smile before he grabs the wire). The problem is that this discourages him not at all. He'll immediately turn back around and go back to do it again. Argh!!! It really is very frustrating that the discipline does not work at all. Even if we are totally consistent and do the same thing every single time he disobeys, he still goes back and messes with the TV five or six times in a row, until we can finally distract him with something else. It is simply too wildly attractive to him, for some reason. Just like tickling was for me. Just like me, disobeying is just worth the price, at least when it comes to touching and tugging on the TV.
Sigh.
We are going to have to get a new entertainment center/TV stand really soon, because I think we just need to put some physical distance between The Boy and his temptation.
However, it could be worse. I just want you all to think of Nathan's brother, Daniel, the next time your kid does something dangerous, and thank your lucky stars your child is not as inquisitive or mischievous as he was. Nathan's mom told me last night that she walked in on him doing various dangerous things when he was little, such as poking the back of the TV with a screwdriver and pulling a chair over to the stove in order to turn all the flaming burners on. Sheesh!
Anyway, here's the thing. When I was a kid, I lived for very few things. Among them were reading and tickling my brother. That second one might strike you as a little strange, but, you see, Ken is about the most ticklish person on the face of the earth. And boy, did I love to torture--excuse me, tickle--Ken. Oh my gosh, it was so fun.
I don't think I can quite convey how awesome it was to tickle Ken. The best word for it is satisfying, but that doesn't give you a sense of how seriously I enjoyed it. Looking back on it, tickling my brother was almost like an addiction. When I tickled him, it was like a craving had been fulfilled, or like a thirst had been quenched. Weird, but true.
So I tickled Ken just about every chance I got. The poor guy--once I got started, he was debilitated and pretty much couldn't fight back. I could get him going so well that I could touch him anywhere, even in a spot that isn't normally ticklish (like his forehead), and it would tickle him. I really did torture him.
Eventually, I developed strategies. For example, the best place to catch him and tickle him was in the car, because he couldn't get away. This, however, had a drawback, which was that my parents were witnesses of my cruelty, which always ended in punishment for me, because, as you can imagine, it got beyond the fun and games stage.
My parents came up with a lot of punishments for my tickling over the years. The one they say finally worked was making me pay a quarter (and later, a dollar) every time I tickled Ken. I was a penny-pincher, and I wanted to save my money for the stuff I really wanted, so I hated to be fined, docked, or monetarily punished in any way. But at some point, I realized that sometimes, dangit, it's just worth it. Sometimes, even though I knew an unpleasant punishment was coming my way, it was still worth it to me to put up with paying the price, literally, in order to have the pleasure of doing the crime.
Well, I think Noah must be like his mama. For some reason, he really loves pulling a wire that comes out of the back of our TV. The other thing he loves to do is swivel our flat screen. Okay, both of those things are not only annoying but dangerous. I can just see our heavy TV falling on him, and it freaks me out. So we have been telling him "no" and slapping his hand. (We have no doubt that he understands that what he is doing is wrong. He'll often turn and look at us with a wry, mischievous smile before he grabs the wire). The problem is that this discourages him not at all. He'll immediately turn back around and go back to do it again. Argh!!! It really is very frustrating that the discipline does not work at all. Even if we are totally consistent and do the same thing every single time he disobeys, he still goes back and messes with the TV five or six times in a row, until we can finally distract him with something else. It is simply too wildly attractive to him, for some reason. Just like tickling was for me. Just like me, disobeying is just worth the price, at least when it comes to touching and tugging on the TV.
Sigh.
We are going to have to get a new entertainment center/TV stand really soon, because I think we just need to put some physical distance between The Boy and his temptation.
However, it could be worse. I just want you all to think of Nathan's brother, Daniel, the next time your kid does something dangerous, and thank your lucky stars your child is not as inquisitive or mischievous as he was. Nathan's mom told me last night that she walked in on him doing various dangerous things when he was little, such as poking the back of the TV with a screwdriver and pulling a chair over to the stove in order to turn all the flaming burners on. Sheesh!
Monday, January 5, 2009
Funny and Unfunny
Oh, Noah. It's funny to watch you grow up, but it is distinctly unfun to have to be a disciplinarian.
Funny:
Yesterday Noah showed us how sometimes what we intend to teach him somehow gets a little lost in translation. For months, we have been telling him to "be gentle" when he pets the cats. At first, he'd grab their fur and pull, but eventually he got the idea that he is supposed to flatten his hand and pet. Well, yesterday, as Nathan was playing with him, Noah got a little too rough, so Nathan said, "No, Noah. Be gentle." And do you know what that kid did? He reached up to the top of Nathan's head and petted his hair. Now that is funny. He did the same thing to me. So apparently he thinks that "be gentle" means to pet.
Unfunny:
Today and yesterday, he has been screaming a lot. Now, he has gone through phases of trying out different verbal sounds, and we have endured a couple of screaming days, but this time it's starting to get a little out of control. He screams when he is frustrated about something--a long, high-pitched, yucky scream, usually quickly succeeded by one or two more. Well, if that's not bad enough, today he started screaming in the checkout line at the grocery store. He didn't seem inclined to stop, so I put my hand over his mouth, which is the only thing I could think of to at least dampen the sound for the sake of the other customers. And then, the unthinkable happened: my child bit me. Oh yes he did.
I just need to stop a moment and lament the passing of my perfect little angel. I see we are venturing into toddlerhood and increased independence, and on the horizon I see a two-year-old.
I was so shocked I didn't do anything to discipline him. Then I realized I am not sure what I would have done, anyway, because this whole discipline thing is new to me. Add to that that there was another mom in line behind me who was watching intently, which would make me feel weird to do something and also not to do something.
One of the things I've been learning at my Mom to Mom group is that this parenthood thing is a journey. You can't expect to have all the answers at the beginning. Of course, I know in my head that that's true, but I guess it hadn't sunk in, because Noah is teaching me pretty consistently that I have to have some grace with myself when new situations arise. I don't know how to handle some things the first time they happen, but I generally figure it out (often with help!). Even though I am the mom, I am learning too. There is a lot of freedom in that. There's also a lot of freedom in knowing that I am not the only one giving myself grace--God gives me grace, too. Thank goodness for that!
Funny:
Yesterday Noah showed us how sometimes what we intend to teach him somehow gets a little lost in translation. For months, we have been telling him to "be gentle" when he pets the cats. At first, he'd grab their fur and pull, but eventually he got the idea that he is supposed to flatten his hand and pet. Well, yesterday, as Nathan was playing with him, Noah got a little too rough, so Nathan said, "No, Noah. Be gentle." And do you know what that kid did? He reached up to the top of Nathan's head and petted his hair. Now that is funny. He did the same thing to me. So apparently he thinks that "be gentle" means to pet.
Unfunny:
Today and yesterday, he has been screaming a lot. Now, he has gone through phases of trying out different verbal sounds, and we have endured a couple of screaming days, but this time it's starting to get a little out of control. He screams when he is frustrated about something--a long, high-pitched, yucky scream, usually quickly succeeded by one or two more. Well, if that's not bad enough, today he started screaming in the checkout line at the grocery store. He didn't seem inclined to stop, so I put my hand over his mouth, which is the only thing I could think of to at least dampen the sound for the sake of the other customers. And then, the unthinkable happened: my child bit me. Oh yes he did.
I just need to stop a moment and lament the passing of my perfect little angel. I see we are venturing into toddlerhood and increased independence, and on the horizon I see a two-year-old.
I was so shocked I didn't do anything to discipline him. Then I realized I am not sure what I would have done, anyway, because this whole discipline thing is new to me. Add to that that there was another mom in line behind me who was watching intently, which would make me feel weird to do something and also not to do something.
One of the things I've been learning at my Mom to Mom group is that this parenthood thing is a journey. You can't expect to have all the answers at the beginning. Of course, I know in my head that that's true, but I guess it hadn't sunk in, because Noah is teaching me pretty consistently that I have to have some grace with myself when new situations arise. I don't know how to handle some things the first time they happen, but I generally figure it out (often with help!). Even though I am the mom, I am learning too. There is a lot of freedom in that. There's also a lot of freedom in knowing that I am not the only one giving myself grace--God gives me grace, too. Thank goodness for that!
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Lemon Chicken Orzo Soup
This is a new discovery of mine. I made this soup shortly after Christmas, at which point I was kind of tired of all the decadent food I'd been eating since Thanksgiving. The lemon and parsley in this soup are such bright, clean flavors that it just feels cleansing to eat this soup after a series of heavy-eating holidays.
I adapted this recipe from Cooking Light. The only thing I'd warn you about is that the lemon flavor intensifies the longer the soup is kept. So if you think you might have leftovers that will get increasingly lemony as they sit in the fridge, you might consider limiting the amount of lemon juice the recipe calls for and perhaps just squirting a bit of fresh juice over each individual bowl instead. As for me, I don't mind a little extra lemon.
Lemon Chicken Orzo Soup
2 lbs. chicken, cooked and cut into bite size pieces*
9 cups chicken broth (two 32-oz. boxes plus one cup)
1 bay leaf
1-1/3 c. chopped carrot
1 c. chopped celery
1-1/4 c. chopped onion
2 tsp. salt
8 oz. orzo, cooked (rice would be a good substitute)
1/4 c. chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
2-1/2 tsp. grated lemon rind (about one large lemon)
1/4 c. fresh lemon juice
Pour broth into a large Dutch oven or a large pot. Add the bay leaf, carrot, celery, onion, and salt. Bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 15 minutes or until vegetables are tender. Add reserved chicken and simmer 3 minutes or until thoroughly heated. Add pasta, parsley, rind, and juice. Remove bay leaf. Add fresh cracked black pepper, if desired.
*You probably already have a preferred way to cook your chicken, but I just wanted to throw a couple options out there for you, because it has taken me a few years to find a method that doesn't result in rubbery chicken, isn't too much trouble, and doesn't result in a bunch of dirty dishes. So here are some different methods:
- First of all, you can cook your chicken in water. The thing to remember here is that you do not want to boil it the whole time--that's how you get rubbery meat. You simply want to bring the water to a boil then simmer the chicken until it's done.
- Another option is to roast your chicken. This works best if it's a bone-in piece with skin (it dries out the least this way). Just rub some olive oil on the skin and pop it in the oven at about 350 till it's done.
- However, my method of choice these days is to throw it in the crock pot. It takes about 3 hours (high for chicken breasts and low for tenders), and the chicken comes out moist and perfectly easy to chop or shred. It's also very low maintenance and pretty foolproof because you don't have to watch a pot or the oven. Just be sure to add about a cup of water to the slow cooker to make sure the chicken doesn't stick.
I adapted this recipe from Cooking Light. The only thing I'd warn you about is that the lemon flavor intensifies the longer the soup is kept. So if you think you might have leftovers that will get increasingly lemony as they sit in the fridge, you might consider limiting the amount of lemon juice the recipe calls for and perhaps just squirting a bit of fresh juice over each individual bowl instead. As for me, I don't mind a little extra lemon.
---------------
Lemon Chicken Orzo Soup
2 lbs. chicken, cooked and cut into bite size pieces*
9 cups chicken broth (two 32-oz. boxes plus one cup)
1 bay leaf
1-1/3 c. chopped carrot
1 c. chopped celery
1-1/4 c. chopped onion
2 tsp. salt
8 oz. orzo, cooked (rice would be a good substitute)
1/4 c. chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
2-1/2 tsp. grated lemon rind (about one large lemon)
1/4 c. fresh lemon juice
Pour broth into a large Dutch oven or a large pot. Add the bay leaf, carrot, celery, onion, and salt. Bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 15 minutes or until vegetables are tender. Add reserved chicken and simmer 3 minutes or until thoroughly heated. Add pasta, parsley, rind, and juice. Remove bay leaf. Add fresh cracked black pepper, if desired.
---------------
*You probably already have a preferred way to cook your chicken, but I just wanted to throw a couple options out there for you, because it has taken me a few years to find a method that doesn't result in rubbery chicken, isn't too much trouble, and doesn't result in a bunch of dirty dishes. So here are some different methods:
- First of all, you can cook your chicken in water. The thing to remember here is that you do not want to boil it the whole time--that's how you get rubbery meat. You simply want to bring the water to a boil then simmer the chicken until it's done.
- Another option is to roast your chicken. This works best if it's a bone-in piece with skin (it dries out the least this way). Just rub some olive oil on the skin and pop it in the oven at about 350 till it's done.
- However, my method of choice these days is to throw it in the crock pot. It takes about 3 hours (high for chicken breasts and low for tenders), and the chicken comes out moist and perfectly easy to chop or shred. It's also very low maintenance and pretty foolproof because you don't have to watch a pot or the oven. Just be sure to add about a cup of water to the slow cooker to make sure the chicken doesn't stick.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Developments
Noah has developed so much on this trip to Texas!
Physically, he's taken his first steps! It's so exciting! He only takes a couple every day, but he definitely can do it. He also loves to push his stroller around--I thought it might be too fast for him (when he's tried to do it in the past, his feet can't keep up), but he's much more coordinated now, and he has no trouble keeping up with the quickly-rolling stroller. He just be-bops along behind it.
Speaking of fast, he gets into stuff so dang quickly. It's ridiculous. He is just really quick at crawling. As of the last couple of days, he's really into climbing, too. This is really going to be a challenge for me, because I have to watch him so carefully now. He can climb stairs incredibly fast--we are so impressed and wary at the same time! And he has started trying to climb up onto my parents' fireplace hearth, as well. He hasn't thought of climbing onto the furniture, or he'd be doing that, too. Anyway, there will be a lot more opportunities for trouble once we get home.
Noah is also becoming more affectionate. He had starting laying his cheek on us before we left for Texas, which was really sweet. But now he'll give us all-out hugs. He wraps his arms around your neck and pulls as tightly as his little arms can, pressing his cheek against yours as hard as possible. It is so fun! If you get one of his hugs, you feel really special. :)
He's picking up a lot of words, too. He doesn't say much yet, but he understands more and more. He knows "come here," "turn the page," "no," "pick it up," "moo," and much more. He also understands phrases you haven't practiced with him before, like "put it in your mouth." I am always surprised when he follows my instructions, not only because it shows that he understood what I said, but also because he obeyed!
He is growing up! I can't believe he will be a year old a week from today.
Physically, he's taken his first steps! It's so exciting! He only takes a couple every day, but he definitely can do it. He also loves to push his stroller around--I thought it might be too fast for him (when he's tried to do it in the past, his feet can't keep up), but he's much more coordinated now, and he has no trouble keeping up with the quickly-rolling stroller. He just be-bops along behind it.
Speaking of fast, he gets into stuff so dang quickly. It's ridiculous. He is just really quick at crawling. As of the last couple of days, he's really into climbing, too. This is really going to be a challenge for me, because I have to watch him so carefully now. He can climb stairs incredibly fast--we are so impressed and wary at the same time! And he has started trying to climb up onto my parents' fireplace hearth, as well. He hasn't thought of climbing onto the furniture, or he'd be doing that, too. Anyway, there will be a lot more opportunities for trouble once we get home.
Noah is also becoming more affectionate. He had starting laying his cheek on us before we left for Texas, which was really sweet. But now he'll give us all-out hugs. He wraps his arms around your neck and pulls as tightly as his little arms can, pressing his cheek against yours as hard as possible. It is so fun! If you get one of his hugs, you feel really special. :)
He's picking up a lot of words, too. He doesn't say much yet, but he understands more and more. He knows "come here," "turn the page," "no," "pick it up," "moo," and much more. He also understands phrases you haven't practiced with him before, like "put it in your mouth." I am always surprised when he follows my instructions, not only because it shows that he understood what I said, but also because he obeyed!
He is growing up! I can't believe he will be a year old a week from today.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New Year's Resolutions
Do you have any New Year's Resolutions? I do, and I feel that in the name of feeling more accountability towards them, I should make them public, which is why I'm publishing them here.
If you feel the need for the same accountability that potential public humiliation brings, leave a comment with your goals for this year. ;)
Anyhow, what is your New Year's resolution? Do you want to lose weight? Work harder? Save money? Serve more? Do tell.
If you feel the need for the same accountability that potential public humiliation brings, leave a comment with your goals for this year. ;)
- Lose 10 lbs. and get more toned.
- Get better at sticking to our budget.
- Continue to work at our marriage so that it stays strong.
- Spend more quality time with God (which is harder than I thought with a baby).
Anyhow, what is your New Year's resolution? Do you want to lose weight? Work harder? Save money? Serve more? Do tell.
January Arbonne Specials
Happy New Year!
Arbonne is starting 2009 with lots of great specials. Enjoy!
29 Years of Arbonne; Lots of Products for $29
During the month of January, purchase any of the following products for only $29, in honor of Arbonne's 29th anniversary:
29 Years of Arbonne; Lots of Products for $29
During the month of January, purchase any of the following products for only $29, in honor of Arbonne's 29th anniversary:
NutriMinC RE9 Illuminating Enzyme Peel; RE9 Wrinkle Filler; SeaSource Detox Spa Foaming Sea Salt Scrub, Detoxifying Mask, Sea Mud Face and Body Mask, Essential Massage Oil, Renewing Body Gelee, Purifying Sea Soak, Fortifying Hair Mask, Re-Mineralizing Body Lotion, and Spa Robe.
$29 Anniversary Surprise Bag
With every $75 srp order, qualify to purchase an Anniversary Surprise Bag for $29. Each unique bag is filled with up to $175 srp worth of products, including items from the About Face, f.y.i, Figure 8 Vanish, and Before Sun product lines.
20% Off Figure 8 Vanish
Visually tone skin and diminish the puffy look and feel of water retention. Receive a 20% discount on the Figure 8 Vanish Water Relief Treatment Serum, a $40 value, for $32.
Best,
Lauren
$29 Anniversary Surprise Bag
With every $75 srp order, qualify to purchase an Anniversary Surprise Bag for $29. Each unique bag is filled with up to $175 srp worth of products, including items from the About Face, f.y.i, Figure 8 Vanish, and Before Sun product lines.
20% Off Figure 8 Vanish
Visually tone skin and diminish the puffy look and feel of water retention. Receive a 20% discount on the Figure 8 Vanish Water Relief Treatment Serum, a $40 value, for $32.
Best,
Lauren
--
Lauren Benesh
Independent Consultant
Arbonne International
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