Splish Splash

How to get the "Mother of the Year" award for awesomeness in bath time experiences:

1. Don't bathe your child till they are three weeks old. (Excuse: his cord took forever to fall off, then I avoided it for a few days because I didn't know how to bathe him, and then he got circumcised so we had to wait for that to heal.)

2. Require your mom to come show you how to bathe him when you finally do get around to it because you're afraid you'll either A scald him to death or B drown him.

3. While trying to get him in the tub succeed in getting poo all over the counter.

4. After getting him all nice and clean, let him pee all over himself. Then just wipe him back down with a wippie because putting him back in the tub would just be too much.

And 5. Most importantly, while holding him on his tummy and washing his back, get so consumed in how cute his little bum is that you don't notice you are repeatedly dunking his face in the water.

Labor and Delivery: A Little Trip to Hell and Back

Our little fat baby boy has been shaking up our lives with his presence for a little over two weeks now. I've been really meaning to write about what was going on with the pregancy and then delivery for a while now, but it's taken me the two weeks to muster the energy to stay awake while he is taking a nap.

At the beginning of my pregancy I had every intention of taking lots of belly pics. Then I realized, who the heck wants to take pics of themselves ever rapidly expanding; plus, I was always way too tired to strike a pose for a photo op the last few months. I also really wanted to get one last belly pic before we went to the hospital too, but I'll get around to why that didn't happen in a few. So here are the last few pregancy pics that we have of me.

I think I'm about 30ish weeks here.

After my baby shower, I think I'm 37 weeks in these two.



So on to the birth story. (So, I could make this really detailed, awkward, but funny; however, I'll try to refrain from giving too much info.) Friday, February 22 was my last day of work, and I was so glad because I was really struggling to make it through the school day. I pretty much just rolled around in my wheelie desk chair and prayed my water didn't break in front of the kids the last few days. Saturday we had a funeral to go to. (James's grandma had passed away.) So, we were really praying we could make it through the funeral without baby deciding it was time to come. Luckily we did. Sunday I had a ton of conractions, so I thought for sure we would end up at the hospital, and I was so ready, but about nine that night the contractions stopped. Monday, nothing. Tuesday I had a dr. appointment, and nothing much was going on, so he said if I hadn't started by myself by Monday he would consider inducing me. I was for sure that would be the case since I wasn't having really any contractions since Sunday. Then Wednesday happened.

Wednesday morning James left for work about 7:30, and I couldn't sleep after that so I laid in bed and watched Parenthood on Netflix till about 10ish. Hadn't felt a single contraction so I went downstairs, ate breakfast, took a long nap on the couch, and then ate some lunch, called my mom, sat down in the livingroom about 2 to watch some more Parenthood. As I was drinking some water, it went down the wrong pipe and I started coughing. Bam! I was for sure I had just peed my pants a bit. I literally sat there for five minutes scared to move because I thought either 1 - I did pee my pants and I don't want it to get all over the couch or 2 - my water just broke and I don't want that to get on the couch. I decided I had to do something, so I finally stood up. Skipping the awkward details . . . I called my mom because I still wasn't sure. She told me to call my dr. but I was in denial, so I told her I wasn't having contractions so I'd just wait and see what happens. I really didn't think my water had broken. Sat down to start watching Parenthood again, stood up about ten minutes later to get a snack, and Bam! Well either my water did break or I kept repeatedly peeing my pants. So, now I'm freaking out. I called James to tell him, and then called my dr.to see if I really did need to go straight to the hospital even if I wasn't having contractions yet. The nurse said yes! As James is on his way home from work to pick me up, I'm awkwardly walking around the house trying to pack last minutes things without "peeing" my pants every two seconds. So, that's why we didn't get a last belly pic before we left for the hospital because I was just trying to get out of the house and into the hospital without looking like I really did pee all over myself.

Get to the hospital about 3:00, dialated to a 4, need antibotics because I was Strep B positive, having contractions but they still aren't painful. My dr. gets to the hospital about 6:30, dialted to a 5, they have me wallk around to get my contractions going. That doesn't work. Dr. comes back at about 9, still dialated to a 5, contractions are mildly uncomfortable but nothing painful, dr. tries to talk me out of an epidural since I'm not really in pain, but I'm positive I want one. Dr. sets up epidural but doesn't give me meds yet, hooks me up to pitocin to get my contractions more consistent. Fifteen minutes of that and I'm begging for the epidual meds. Lower half of my body goes numb, can't feel pain, try to take a nap, ha! About 12:30 epidural stops working, dr. comes back and gives me a higher dose, dialted to a 10. Epidural still not working, and about 1 they tell me it's time for me to start pushing. Thinking, "I'm not ready for this. I need pain meds! Is it too late to ask for a C-section?" Two and a half hours of pushing, feeling everything the whole time, had to use the vaccum to get him out, but FINALLY at 3:37 AM, we got him here.

After he was out I remember listening for his cry, which I heard. I remember trying to see him, but the dr. had passed him off to the respiratory therapist who was blocking my view of him. At that point I started blacking out. I couldn't see. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I remember telling my dr. that, and I vaguely recall the nurse running around the room it seemed like to me. At some point I turned to James and told him I was really scared, that I didn't know what was going on. He leaned over and told me he had just given me a blessing, and I was going to be fine. After puking in one of those stupid little bags, which is really difficult to do when you are laying down, I finally started to come back around. I couldn't have made it through all of that without James: counting to ten, feeding me ice chips, wiping the puke off my face, telling me that I could do it.

Even though getting him here was hell, now we have this cute little guy.

 

Mclain Lewellyn Alvey

born: 2/28/13

weight: 7 pounds 3 oz.

height: 21 inches

  Favorite Things About Him

His feet and hands are huge and look just like his dad's

He has pointy Volcan ears

He makes grumpy faces at people

He pooped on his dad last night and that makes me laugh

He already knows he likes sleeping with mom and dad better than sleeping in his bassinet

He has the best fat, fluffy cheeks

He frequently likes to stare at people with only one eye open

The way he looks so fat and happy right after he has eaten

 

 



Explosive Fatness and Pregnancy at 27 Weeks

                                      See, this is what I mean when I say "explosive fatness

 I was 10 weeks pregnant here, and sure I'd spent the past 6 weeks throwing up every single day, multiple times a day, but I was normal sized here, small, comfortable, I could fit into my clothes.

Then, 15 weeks later, I ate myself or something like that. Ok, maybe it was all that chocolate and ice cream that I suddenly became so fond of, and now that I'm looking at it, the strips are NOT helping the situation.

 

So, now that I'm pregnant and look it, people continually ask me, "How are you feeling?". I try to be polite and not whinny, and so I reply, "Oh, pretty good." But here is what I actually should say:

 

1. Fat! Sometimes like a whale. Other times like a turtle flipped on its shell. Most of the time I feel like an ever expanding Violet Beauregard. You know, the girl in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory that eats the gum and blows up like a blueberry.

 

2. Tired! I wish I could lay on my couch and sleep all day and all night. Sometimes, I want to crawl under my desk at work and take a quick power nap.

 

3. At times annoyed with our Little Boo that is taking up residence in my body. I mean, yes, most of the time I really love him, but sometimes he is a bully. Like when he decides to repeatedly kick me in the bladder when I already have to pee really badly but can't because I'm in the middle of teaching a class that I don't trust if I leave the room. Or, when he decides to play circus at the exact moment that I decide it's bedtime. Or, most annoyingly, when he decides it's fun to poke me in the bellybutton. Ironically, his dad also thinks that is a fun way to annoy me.

 

4. Miserable! I never knew it was possible to feel like someone repeatedly punched you in the back as well as feel like someone is attempting to tear apart your rib cage when I've done nothing more than lay on the couch and watch TV.

 

So, the next time you ask me how I feel, yeah, I'll probably respond with a much more polite answer, but know that there is a much more dramatic and whinny dialogue going on in my head.

James's Birthday

It was James's 25 birthday on the 17th of November, and he requested that he get to spend the day working on his new Samuri (the vehicle kind, not the ancient Japanese warrior kind). I had planned on making a really cute cake from him with deer and outdoorsy stuff on it, but I was too fat and tired, so he just got a boring birthday cake this year; maybe next year.

                                                               "Happy Birthday to James!"

He also got the Alvey sweat shirt (and matching onesie for the baby cause well it's adorble) for his birthday.

More House Renovations!

 Since we really want to get as much of our house finished and how we want it before the baby comes, James has been working like a mad man on it lately. He is currently in the process of putting up our fence, adding a hallway and closet, redoing the kitchen/bathroom floors, and finishing up the baby's room. We also got new carpet installed!



New hallway

 

 

Baby's room before new hallway

 



 

Baby's room during new hallway

 

 

 Baby's room after new hallway

 

James after sanding drywall all night

 



 

 James had to pull up all the old, disgusting carpet in the house too.

 

But now we have this!

 

 

Living room

 

 

Baby's room (almost finished)

 

Stairs

 



 

loft

 

 

 

bedroom

 

 

It's a good thing that James is the best handy-man!



Baby Bump

 10 Weeks (I was pretty much throwing up constantly still. This must have been a rare moment when I felt well enough to get dressed that day.)

 

 16 weeks (Mostly just look like I have a potbelly here.)

 

 20 Weeks (I feel a lot fatter than I look.)

 

Also at 20 weeks we got to have another ultrasound. Here are two of our favorite pics of our cute little boy!

 

 Trying to hide.

 

 

Sucking his thumb.

Grandma Lloyd

I've been greatly blessed for nearly 25 years that I haven't had to deal with much death in my life. For 24 1/2 years I've never once had to say goodbye to someone I loved; I never once had to watch them close the casket on a face that I knew to once be so full of life. Clearly my 24 1/2 years of luck and blessing have run its course.

In mid July we buried my Grandpa Wheeler. Now this Saturday, we'll bury my Grandma Lloyd. And while in my head I logically know this really isn't the worst thing. I know logically in my head that she lived 93 years of a great life, and that the past few years were difficult for her. I also can't help but wish that she were still here. That I could go sit on her blue couch with her and hold her boney, fraile hand even though she probably still wouldn't remember who I am. I still can't help but wish I could giggle at her as shuffled determinedly across the floor with that crazy curly wig of hers that I hated. And I still really wish that I could sit on that blue couch in her living room and listen to her read me fairy tales, or sit at her little table in the kitchen and eat her fried potatoes, or even just hear her promise someone that she'll "dance at their wedding."

I owe so much to my Grandma Lloyd for the person I am, for my love of English and reading. And I couldn't be more proud when my dad tells me I remind him of her because in my eyes she was the perfect grandma, always sweet and kind and interested in what you had to say, always stuffing you with food, but she also had just the right amount of sassiness too.

I wrote a poem about my grandpa when he passed, but I don't know if I have it in me to write one about her, too much to say. So in honor of her, I'll just close with two poems that I know she'll appreciate.

Death, be not proud
by John Donne
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. Because I could not stop for Death by Emily Dickinson Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school, where children strove At recess, in the ring; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. Or rather, he passed us; The dews grew quivering and chill, For only gossamer my gown, My tippet only tulle. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound. Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.