It was supposed to be a great day.  How could it not be, when we started out the morning with Cinnamon Pancakes.  I know he’s been feeling the effects of my divided attention.  He’s been the center of my world for the past 2 1/2 years.  Now there is this other person…taking his place in mommy and daddy’s bed…strapped to mommy where he once was…nursing in mommy’s lap where he always sits…  We’ve both try to make sure he is getting plenty of hugs, kisses, and love…plenty of books and play time with each of us.  But he is craving our attention…our undivided attention.

I sit him down with crayons and proceed to nurse the baby.  She’s fussing and I’m distracted.  My son is at an age where he prefers that mommy and daddy draw pictures (rather than drawing them himself).  I explain to him that I’m nursing the baby and will draw with him once I’m finished.  I’m still distracted with my daughter.  He knows I’m distracted.  He’s quiet (always a bad sign) and I don’t notice it until it’s too late.  He apparently manages to break the tip off the crayon (something I didn’t readily observe in that moment). By the time I look over at him, the crayon is already on it’s way up (his nose, that is).  I begin to panic…and it is apparent in my tone as I beg my son not to continue with this venture. “Do I put the crayon up my nose?”  he asks.  He’s calm…he’s smiling.  I’m panicking.  “No, I say loudly…”We don’t put crayons in our nose.” In seconds I’m pulling the baby off, trying to put her in the swing so I can avoid this potential crisis.  It’s too late.  My overreacting has led to a lodged crayon.  The baby is now hysterical and I’m about to join her.

The rational side of me knows that I should not attempt to dislodge it.  But I’m already marching him up the stairs with a plan that involves a tweezer.  Failed.  I’m too much of a coward to attempt such a feat.  With tears in my eyes, I call my Pediatrician, shamefully explaining how I have failed as a mother.  The nurse asks me several questions, including the one where I tell her that I observed the whole, ridiculous event…unable to change the outcome.

We get in the car, my daughter and I both unsettled.  As I drive to my Pediatrician’s office, my mind is flooded with questions, my eyes flooded with tears.  Where did he learn how to put an object in his nose?  Why didn’t he listen when I told him to stop?  Where did I fail as a mom? My son, by the way, is smiling and oblivious to what is about to happen once we reach the Pediatrician’s office.  He’s just happy he’s going to see “Dr. Bob.”

After spending what feels like an eternity, waiting to be squeezed in, we meet with the doctor. Right before he walks in, I have a heart-to-heart with my 2 year old.  “Dr. Bob is going to help you find your crayon, but you need to listen to him and stay very, very still.”  “Ok mommy,” he says…and I think to some extent, he understands the seriousness of what’s about to ensue.  The doctor walks in and there is discussion of my failure what happened and his plan for “finding my son’s lost crayon.”  I ask the question I already know the answer to…”What happens if you can’t dislodge it?”  I shudder as he confirms…a trip to the hospital for sedation and a scope.

I sit my son in my lap, holding him, knowing that success depends on his ability to stay still.  The first attempt is unsuccessful.  It’s packed in there tighter than we thought.  The Dr. goes to get a different instrument and I give my son another pep talk.  I’m scared for him.  But after a few minutes, he grasps the crayon and I breathe a deep sigh of relief.

On that day, I felt like a complete failure as a mom.  I still run over the scenario in my mind about what I could have done differently.   Thankfully, my pediatrician was gracious…my husband forgiving.  And I am comforted by those moms who have gone before me with similar stories (special thanks to the mom who sat with me while I waited and told me about the time her son put a tic tac up his nose).

Ten years ago (I’m totally aging myself), I boldly walked into my first interview as a new nurse, ready to start my career.  I was passionate about changing the world and what better way to do that than at the bedside. As time went by, I gained the confidence and experience necessary to advance my career.  I went back to school to obtain a Master’s Degree in Nursing and met my husband in the process.  I went on to pursue higher career goals.  As I moved away from bedside nursing into teaching and management, I realized that nursing, for me, was about people.  I wasn’t content to sit at a desk.  So after landing a prestigious, high-paying management job, I went back to the bedside.

My husband and I traveled the world, and again, I used my experience and skills at the bedside overseas.  We loved the cultural experience of living abroad.  I was challenged in so many new ways.  I met the most amazing people, who I still keep in contact with today.  They became my family…my home away from home.  We talked it over and made preparations to stay.  And then we found out I was expecting our son.

Nothing that I have ever done, has molded me as much as becoming a parent.  I thought I was selfless…I realized I’m selfish.  I thought I was patient…I realized I am impatient.  The self-realization that comes with having a child is life-changing.  Never have I wanted to work on myself more than when my son was born.

I’ve been a nurse for almost ten years.  I have the knowledge, skills, and experience to do great things in my career.  And oh, did I mention how comfortable our life could be?  But my passion…where I want to be at the end of the day…is home with my two babies.  I want to be at home reading and coloring and playing with my son.  I want to take him to the park and the zoo and our local museums.  I want to be there when my daughter gives us her first “real” smile and rolls over for the first time and starts to crawl.  I don’t want to read about them on a progress note from a day care center.  I don’t want to miss a single moment because I can’t go back.  There are no do overs.  These moments…these precious moments when my babies are little are here and then gone. But nobody’s employing women to do the task…the very difficult but so rewarding task of mothering.

So, I’m at an impasse.

I’m highly skilled to do so many things…but my passion…requires none of them.

I looked at the clock this morning and almost an hour had gone by.  I watched you look around the room and into my eyes…mostly you just slept.  I prayed for you and dreamed about all of the things we’ll do together. This overwhelming need to protect you overcame me.  Only another mother would understand that instinct which is so strong.

I started thinking about what it means to be a mother.  It only begins with 9 months of using your body to grow another. It’s so much more than that.  I find it interesting that the dictionary reduces such an important role to simply “one who has given birth to a child.”

My precious babies are only on loan to me for a time.  I once heard someone say that parenting, in essence, is the process of counting down…the process of equipping and preparing your children to leave and function on their own.  The time only gets shorter…

I look at my toddler and then at my 3 week old and think to myself…how is it that I was just holding him…nursing him in my arms?  How is it that he was the one I was just gazing at with dreams in my heart? He’s a walking running, talking 2 1/2 year old with his own thoughts, feelings, and wants.  Most days he only wants to cuddle at nap or bedtime.  I want him to grow up and stay a baby both at the same time.

Our baby girl is likely our last child.  Some days, when I haven’t managed to get a much needed shower in, or anything measurable done around the house…and I’m surrounded by spit up and diapers…I breathe a quiet sigh of relief that there is an end in site. But then my toddler will look at me and say, “Mommy…are you a princess?”  Or my baby girl will snuggle up against me at 3 am and I know that I will miss all of this terribly in a few short years.

I sit here, reminded of how finite life is. This week, a friend of mine suffered the type of loss no mother should ever have to experience.  Please consider stopping by to leave her a note of support or encouragement.

I went into labor all on my own for the very first time…

And out of the greatest pain came the greatest joy…

I delivered a healthy baby girl…

I met the daughter I’ve been waiting, praying, and hoping for my whole life…

I became a mother of two incredibly beautiful children…

And my heart grew bigger than I could ever imagine to love, protect, and care for these precious babies that are on loan to me…

We told him much sooner than I had anticipated.  Mums the word until week 12, right?  But I was sick…very, very sick.  And he needed to know why mommy was lying on the couch all day…or stuck in the bathroom for too long.  In a small way, I felt like he understood (as much as a toddler can) that mommy wasn’t herself.  

Thankfully, week 12 came and things were still “ok,” apart from the fact that I was still sick.  The pregnancy went smoother (although not without trials) than my first.  I was nervous to get his hopes up too soon about a baby brother or sister.  He had some knowledge of babies with my neighbor, cousin, and good friend having babies within weeks of each other.  

And then around 20 weeks, we told him her name.  We told him he would have a sister and that she was growing in mommy’s tummy.  He was always so delighted to talk about her.  

I was warned by many experienced moms about the types of expectations I should have once she arrived.  Jealousy…acting out…at best he would just ignore her.  We did all we could to prepare him for her arrival.  As the days got closer, I worried more and more about how he would react.  My baby…my sweet handsome boy…I didn’t want to hurt him.  I didn’t want him to feel like he had been replaced. 

Almost everything about my birth experience was positive.  I only wish I had been able to bring him to the hospital to meet her. But it’s flu season…and toddlers carry germs that hospitals aren’t willing to take a chance with.  So he was restricted from seeing me until I came home.  One of the most joyous days of my life and I couldn’t share it with my son.  

I came home one day early from the hospital (that’s all they’d allow).  On Christmas Eve, my parents brought my son down and he met his baby sister for the first time.  He knew exactly who she was.  He touched her gently and talked to her.  He asked if she was ok…if I was ok.  He tried to suck on her pacifier.  And give her juice.  Do you know what he didn’t do?  He didn’t ignore her…or act out…or resent her.  

Curiosity is the best word to describe how my son feels about his baby sister.  We’re teaching him to be gentle…we’re teaching him that she’s not ready to play yet…or drink juice…or eat crackers.  But my son is as sweet as can be with our baby girl.  

It’s been a wonderful week…filled with the joy of new life and change and a tiny bit of chaos.  It’s going to be an adjustment…recovering from major surgery and childbirth…juggling an active 2 year old…functioning on a serious reduction in sleep.  But we’re surviving….we’re more than surviving.  This Christmas will always be remembered as the year that three became four…the year that my son became a big brother…the year that our hearts, which we thought were as big as could be, grew to welcome a second child into our home.  

Praise God for the miracle of life.  

 ¹³Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 
 ¹⁴“Glory to God in the highest, 
      and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.” – Luke 2:13-14

Merry Christmas!  

I know it *appears* that I’ve been around…but I really haven’t.  My incredible husband has been doing much in the way of answering emails, closing giveaways, and updating everyone on how we’re doing so that our baby girl and I could have some much needed bonding time before we go home.  My husband has been doing all of this and more in between the times when he’s helping me get up, cuddling our sweet baby girl, and running back and forth to make sure everything is ready for our up coming discharge from the hospital.  I’ve managed to read your comments and tweets and emails and I’ve just been in awe of the support, encouragement, and well wishes we’ve received.  One by one, I’m reading them, taking them in, and responding personally.  

I never really wrote out my first birth experience.  Part of that was because in many ways I felt like I failed.  I agreed to an induction with my son at 38 weeks and the result was a c section…they call it failure to progress.  I’m not fond of that medical term.  Did I fail?  Did my body fail?  I felt a lot of guilt after delivering my son.  The shoulda, woulda, coulda’s kept playing over and over again in my mind.  

This time, I have no guilt.  I knew what to expect…I just didn’t know when to expect her.  I find it amusing that less than 2 days before I went into labor, my doctor had me pretty convinced that we’d be having a January baby.  Once I got my mind around that concept, I decided that the few weeks of prep time would be beneficial.  We’d have a nice, quiet Christmas with our little boy.  

We spent Saturday doing typical errands.  We even squeezed in a visit with Santa.  This was my first walk around the mall without a wheelchair, but I didn’t feel like I really walked all that much.  That night I rested because I had some back pain…but I experienced back pain the entire pregnancy so it really didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary at the time.  

If you managed to catch any of my tweets, then you know earlier in the week I thought I was in labor…which ended up being a false alarm.  So when I woke up at 2 am with some contractions on Sunday morning, I just assumed it was false labor.  I got up, walked a bit to see if they would go away and then laid back down.  After about an hour (which seemed like many) I woke my husband up.  We started timing the contractions which were only about 10 minutes apart (very similar to the timing of the contractions earlier in the week).  Except…they hurt…and I mean, I was having to breathe through them and they were hurting into my back.  Something was definitely different.  My husband asked me if I wanted to watch something on TV while we waited to see what would ensue.  At that point I was barely coping and pretty much told him that we needed to call the doctor because something was just not right.  While we waited for my doctor to call back, I started frantically trying to get things packed (in between the contractions which were getting closer and closer together), in the unlikely event that we’d be staying overnight.  As a side note, if you’re 9 months pregnant, it might be a good idea to have a hospital bag packed…I’m just sayin’.  Then there was the question of what to do with our son.  My husband took him to our very kind neighbor’s house while I pretty  much started to lose control.  In that moment, I sincerely wished I had paid attention to the breathing techniques we learned during my first pregnancy.  How funny is it that I was due to have a scheduled c section and still had to go through several hours of labor.  Sigh!

Not once did I ever really think that I was in labor or that we’d have to stay overnight or that we’d be meeting our baby girl that day.  Everything happened so fast.  When we got to the hospital, it was quickly determined that I was in labor and that my good friend Terbutaline was no longer effective at stopping my contractions.  Two doses of it and I was still contracting.  So off to the OR we went.

This time, I knew what to expect with regards to the anesthesia and the surgery.  It seemed like only minutes before we were hearing our sweet baby girl’s cries.  She was (and is) perfect and healthy and much bigger than I would have expected at 37 weeks.   Her and my husband went over to a different room while they put me back together and my parents got in a quick cuddle.   I pretty much felt at peace and in control (as opposed to that feeling of being out of control with my first).  After I was put back together, I was taken to recovery and my parents were asked to leave.  I was amazed that not once did our baby girl have to leave either of our sides.  She’s 3 days old and hasn’t been away from us for one second!  The hospital is amazing in that way and if you have to undergo anything other than natural childbirth, this is definitely something to advocate for. 

Today we go home (one whole day early!).  Recovery, in some ways, has been easier (although definitely not pain-free).  I was up walking on Sunday night (12 hours after having surgery) and eating a full meal by midnight that night (crazy!).  We’ve had more sleep, I’ve taken less pain medication, and she’s managed to take to nursing much quicker than my son (but no comparisons here!).  

I never, ever imagined I’d be saying this, but having a c section was as pleasant as major surgery could be.  My body doesn’t do pregnancy or labor well, so I’m thankful that we have options.  

I’m anxious to see our little boy.  We’ve talked to him over the phone every day but I miss him terribly.  I have no idea how he is going to react.  We’re planning on shooting some video and taking pictures to capture the moment.  

My husband and I didn’t exchange gifts with each other this year (no time!). The weekend was supposed to be our time to do that, but something even better happened.  We could not have asked for a better gift.  She’s lovely and perfect.  We’re blessed and thankful beyond words.  

I sincerely hope that each and every one of you has a safe, blessed, enjoyable Christmas.  My husband has been emailing winners and closing giveaways.  I apologize that some of your prizes won’t arrive until after Christmas.  But it makes me so happy to email you with great news and I hope in a small way you’re blessed!   

I have so much planned for the coming year.  I hope you’ll join me!  

Blessings, 

The Baileys

Yes…those are my Uggs!

This is the picture we took for our Christmas cards!

Whew!  I’m wrapping my holiday gift guide and on to my baby shower.  Many (but not all) of my holiday giveaways are closing tomorrow, so please be sure to enter before 10 PM PST tomorrow night.  And, please be patient with me.  I will be choosing winners over the weekend and emailing you to get your information so there will be plenty of time for shipping before the holidays.  If possible, please check your emails or refer to the specific giveaway posts for updates on winners.  If you don’t see an update in red, it means I haven’t selected a winner for that particular giveaway.  And…I know you thought the giveaways were over…but they’re not.  I still have some fabulous, last minute sponsors who wanted to share their generosity with you this holiday season.  So be on the lookout for a few more holiday reviews and giveaways scattered here and there.
December is all about getting ready for our baby girl.  I have an amazing list of companies I want to highlight, so if you’re pregnant, thinking about becoming pregnant, or know someone who is pregnant, please do stop by.  You know I only give you the very best here!   Have a fabulous evening!

Also, please head over to DivineCaroline.com and vote for my site! You’ll need an account, but its quick and easy to setup, and I think you’ll like the site… lots of great things to read!

From our family to yours…