Gavin's big day

I'm medicated and tired, but I wanted to tell the story of Gavin's arrival while I still have a chance (i.e. before I go home and start wrangling them both). This is not going to be the most eloquent thing I have ever written...

Friday was the big day.

We arrived at the hospital 45 minutes early, which was nice considering I had dreamed I was an hour and a half late and was put in the waiting room in hopes that they could squeeze me in.

Once they took me back to get me prepped, things moved quickly. My nurses were funny and kept me distracted from my nerves.

When the anesthesiologist arrived to insert my epidural, my mom started talking to me about beaches and margaritas and hot guys on surf boards. The anesthesiologist talked me through the entire process. He was amazing, and suddenly the only thing I dreaded about the entire day was over! I had made it! I hadn't jumped!

A few minutes later, they wheeled me into the OR to get me prepped. They told my mom they would be back for her in about 15 minutes.

We got to the operating room, and they hoisted me (yes, like a whale) onto the operating table. The anesthesiologist's assistant (so hot! it's like Grey's Anatomy in this hospital) started talking me through what was happening.

They put the medicine in my epidural and suddenly, my ears started ringing, and it sounded a bit like the ocean in my head.

When I finally found the strength to speak, I asked Mr. Hottie, "am I supposed to feel this weird?" (Because I SO didn't when I had Silas...)

He asked how I felt, and I did my best to fight through the circus in my head to describe it.

"Okay, Michelle, we've hit a blood vessel. We're going to have to remove your epidural and insert a new one."

Panic spread through me, and I wanted my momma!

The anesthesiologist talked me through it again, and he even told me I have a "beautiful spine" (spread the word!)

Once that debacle was over, and I felt like nothing else was going to derail my perfect day, they gave me an oxygen mask and pushed something into my IV that nearly caused me to vomit in my own face. Mr. Hottie got the oxygen mask off and a tray under me in time for me to vomit a little more respectably.

A few minutes later, I felt normal again, and my mom was brought in.

It was show time!

My doctor informed me that I am a beautiful healer (and then took it back after he found a bunch of scar tissue internally). Even with all the work they had to do, it was not very long before I heard the most beautiful (loud and angry) sound in the world. My perfect son screaming his head off as they brought him into the world.

Tears streamed down my face before I ever laid eyes on him. It is one of my favorite moments as a mother. The moment they breathe, and you learn how they sound.

My mom watched as they cleaned him and weighed him (7 lbs, 15 ozs) and measured him (21 inches). He screamed incessantly until he heard her voice. He recognized it and began to search for her. He began to calm down. It was another beautiful moment.

Once we were ready to go to recovery, they handed him to me, and I got to hold him and kiss him and nurse him while we were there. It was perfect. They did not give me that opportunity with Silas because he needed to go immediately to the nursery. So, this was an incredible bonding experience for me that I had never before been afforded.

This weekend has been full of people who love us dropping by to ooh and aah.

Silas has met Gavin and has not shown any signs of jealousy. He even offered Gavin the pacifier I swore I would not let him have (but let's face it, you'll break your own rules in the name of sleep.)

Gavin is loud and already very headstrong. He is not what I expected, but he is perfectly himself.

This time has been easier. The bone-weary exhaustion I remember setting in the first day with Silas is more of a manageable tired. The fear and anxiety is not there. This has mostly been a weekend of hanging out and getting to know my new son.

Today we head home to start working together as a family.

I cannot wait!

God has blessed me beyond measure with two incredibly perfect children.

I truly feel like our family is whole now. Like life makes no sense without all three of us.

Thank you all for your prayers, well-wishes, kind words, gifts and visits. We love you very much!

A panic attack...right on time!

Let the panicking commence!

Did you guys know that when they gave me my epidural with Silas, I jumped?  Yep, the anesthesiologist nearly took my head off after I did it.  In my defense, he didn't warn me he was about to do it.  So, now I have a spot in my back that goes numb from time to time.  

Want to know what I lay awake worrying about last night?  Mmm hmm.  Jumping when they insert that damn needle on Friday.

Plus, you guys, how am I going to eat when I get home?  

I seem to remember Michael and I having to take turns eating because Silas would let me get a meal cooked/microwaved/ordered from Pizza Hut, but he'd never sleep long enough for Michael and me to actually eat at the same time.  So, one of us (he) would eat, and then the other of us (I) would eat.  How does that work when you're the only adult in the house? 

Then there is the whole "you can't lift anything heavier than your newborn or drive for weeks because we're cutting your belly open, and that has to heal" thing.  That is all good and well when all you have is the newborn, but I have a three-year-old who lately insists on "carry me! hold me!" and who is going to freak the freak out when we're trapped at home for weeks because I can't drive.  We can barely survive an entire weekend together when we're stuck in the house.  How am I going to keep him entertained for weeks (and me sane) when I'm going to be so damn sleep-deprived?  It's doable, right?

Also, I don't have cable.  I know that is totally ridiculous and fixable, but I can't make myself spend the money on it.  Netflix is fine when you're only home and awake for, like, an hour a day, but what about when it's three a.m., and you've watched all of the things on Netflix, but your baby won't sleep?  What do you do?

Plus, ladies, you know how that magical hour of the day rolls around when your spouse finally comes home from work, and you word vomit all over him about every, tiny, asinine detail of what happened while he was gone because OMG, I finally have someone to talk to!?  That hour of the day is never going to roll around for me because?  No spouse.

My friends are going to have to wear ear plugs the first time I'm set free from the house.

Maybe I'll finally make nice with all my neighbors.

When you're praying for a smooth delivery/Gavin to be perfect/Silas to adjust?  Please also pray about the needle thing and the eating thing and the entertaining Silas thing and the no one to word vomit on thing.  

No, I'm serious.  Pray for me.

The last week

Hello and welcome to the very last week of my pregnancy.  Can you even believe it?!

Last week, I wasn't sure I could make it.  For some reason, getting out of bed was suddenly a chore, and I was severely swollen.  Getting up and getting dressed and going to work every day was exhausting.  I had to wear flip flops because my feet wouldn't fit in shoes anymore.  My back ached every day.  I wanted to wave the white flag and give up.

By Saturday, I couldn't push myself any further.  I basically sat in a recliner at my parents' house for eight hours.  When Silas needed something, I'd make a move to go do it, and my mom would intervene.  

That must have been exactly what I needed.

When I woke up Sunday morning, my feet could once again fit inside shoes.  I didn't want to cry when I rolled out of bed.  I made us breakfast and opened the doors and windows to let the sunlight in.  Silas had one of those days where he wanted to play independently.  It was as close to normal as I think a girl could feel at 38.5 weeks pregnant.

So, while all the people I know watched my beloved Cowboys choke, I cranked up the iPod and cleaned.  Sometimes I had to take breaks to "dance, mommy!" or make meals and feed us or catch up on The Vampire Diaries.  

But now there's nothing left to clean.  There is no laundry left to wash.  Our bags are all packed.  The car seat is installed.

There's nothing left to do but meet my tiny son and adjust to our new life with him.  At the end of this week, we'll go to the hospital, and when we leave, we'll be a family of three.  

If you get a moment this week, please pray for the delivery to go smoothly and for Gavin to be perfect and for Silas to adjust quickly and easily.

Four more days!

What step are we on? More grown up behavior, whatever it is

The hardest part of navigating the murky waters of divorce for me has been coming to terms with sharing Silas.  

You probably all have figured out that I'm a tad insecure when it comes to the affection of my child.  He's always been independent and gravitated toward his father.  That has been hard enough.  When you throw in another woman stepping into his life, my need to control goes into hyper-drive.

My temporary solution after finding out about Heather was to ask (demand) that Michael not take Silas around his new girlfriend until the divorce was final.  I hated hearing her name.  I hated picturing her doing fun things with my son.  Frankly, I flat out hated her.

Michael is one to placate and tell you what you want to hear and then do whatever he wants.  It's the way he operates.  I knew it was the way he operated.  I knew that was what he was going to do, but I needed to believe that when Silas was with him, Heather was not around.  It was the only way I could cope.

That was all going fine and well until Monday.  Michael had gone out of his way to keep me from ever seeing my son with his girlfriend.  Her name hadn't come up.  I was serenely wrapped in my denial that she was lurking in the background of my son's life.

And then Monday night, Silas was playing my iPad.  That isn't unusual.  He plays it almost daily.  He knows how to get to all of his games and coaxes me into upgrading the free ones one at a time.  

For some reason, he began insisting on playing "the matching game."  I had no idea what he was talking about, but I loaded a few different games I thought might be it.  Finally, out of frustration, he said, "NO! The matching game I play at Heather's and Daddy's!"

Cue giant, angry, outraged meltdown from Michelle, right?  I mean, Michael had been lying to me, breaking his promise, and directly disregarding my wishes for my own child.  How dare he!

But that isn't what happened.

What I felt was the tiniest bit of surprise, the tiniest desire to roll my eyes (okay, I totally rolled my eyes), and then nothing.  I pictured Silas sitting on the couch between Michael and Heather playing a game on the iPad....and nothing.  No jealousy, no betrayal, no heartache, no rage.  Nothing.

I text Michael and asked him what game Silas was talking about.  He called me.  We talked only about the game.  We hung up.  I downloaded it, watched Silas play it for 20 minutes, told him we had to go to bed, and went to sleep.

The next day, I kept waiting for the meltdown to hit.  Perhaps it was just delayed?  But it never materialized.  I never flipped out and berated Michael or peppered him with a thousand questions.  I never sat down and cried about it.  

And that is when it occurred to me that I've accepted all of it.  I've accepted that my marriage is over.  I've accepted that Heather is a part of Silas' life.  And I've accepted that my getting upset about her being around Silas is not going to do me a damn bit of good.

Heather and I will probably never be friends.  My opinion of who she is as a person will likely never change.  I doubt I'm ever going to look forward to seeing her at pick up/drop off time.  It's unlikely that I'll ever be overjoyed that she spends time with my kids.  But unless she harms one of them, it's no longer any of my business.  And it's no longer something I'm going to worry about.  It is what it is. 

If I could give myself a hug and a high five I would.  Because just two months ago, I had very little hope that I would ever get to this point, but here I am.  Sincerely letting go and letting God.  Coming to grips with the fact that I can't control everything.  And figuring out that I'm still okay.  Figuring out that I'm actually happier because I'm not trying to control everything and failing miserably.  

That is what God meant when He kept telling me to "Be still and know that I am God."  It has translated to "sit down and put your hands in your lap and leave everything alone, and I promise you will be happier."

He was right.  Imagine that.

Busy weekend

I'm not comfortable calling this the best weekend of my entire life (because, you know, I'm sure I've done more "grand" things before.  Like get married and have babies and whatnot...), but it was a pretty great weekend.

Probably I should post pictures from my baby shower, but I left the cord to my camera at home.  So, just imagine me looking pregnant (but fabulous) surrounded by many of the wonderful women in my life.  (All of us are laughing and "awwing" and eating cupcakes.)

Gavin's newborn wardrobe is now borderline ridiculous.  I'm going to spend most of his first month changing him and taking his picture so everyone can see him in the outfit(s) they bought.  Our 1-3 month calendar is looking pretty much the same. 

Beyond the fact that we were overwhelmed with the showering of gifts, I also genuinely enjoyed the shower.  I adore all the people who came, and it was fun to have them (and a very excited/bossy Silas) in the same room.  I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for all the people who are a part of my life.  One of my friend's even called me out for excessive use of exclamation points in text messages that day.  To sum it up: the shower was fantastic, and I was happy.

Somewhere between Saturday night and Sunday morning I woke up having a contraction (yes, that's still happening and no I'm still not "progressing") and then stared at the ceiling for an hour fretting that I would go into labor before my house was in the shape I wanted and before I was rid of the house full of dogs.  

So panicked was I that I sprang from bed Sunday morning, put all 900 dogs outside, and started cleaning with a vengeance.  I was determined that I was going to end the day with all the laundry done, floors mopped/vacuumed, rugs/bedding/clothes washed, bathroom scrubbed, dishes done,  aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand sans puppies.

I'm happy to report that that is exactly how I ended the day (well, I did have one puppy left for morning delivery, but I had the comfort of the knowledge that she was my problem for less than 12 more hours).  My back hurt, and I was tired, but I finally felt ready for Gavin.  

Not once did I feel this ready for Silas.  Perhaps it has to do with having done this before, or perhaps it's because I've become a more confident person over the last six months, or perhaps the panic attack is just around the corner.  But as of now, I'm perfectly okay with the fact that Gavin is going to be joining us in just 18 days.  

That's right.  Look alive, people.  WE'RE DOWN TO 18 DAYS!

Over it

Can I be over it?  I'm over it.

I'm completely mentally done being pregnant. 

I might not be quite so done if I didn't have seven dogs living in my house.  But being awakened to puppies play fighting in the middle of the night and then having to haul my gigantic stomach out of bed because I (obviously) have to pee and then trying to find just the right angle to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep has me well and truly DONE.

I'm tired and I'm hurting and I get winded bending over and I miss being able to see my feet. 

And please I beg of you do not patronize me with the "if you think you're tired now just wait until that baby gets here" speech as if I haven't ever done this before.  I have.  I've done newborn.  I've even done colicky newborn.  Hell, I've even done colicky newborn with a 3 year old to take care of.  (On all those weekends we had my stepdaughter and Michael had to work?  I was the one taking care of both of them.  So, I'm aware that I will be exhausted.)

But what I'm also aware of is that it eventually passes.  But until he gets here, the clock on him getting past the up all night stage does not start running.  And the clock on my crankiness expiring does not start running.  And the clock on me being able to wear pants with buttons again does not start running.  Right now all the clocks are standing still.

Three. more. effing. weeks.

P.S. I, miraculously, did not end up in the hospital last night.

9 month baby belly

I am grateful

Last you heard from me, my issue was that I was having completely nonsensical contractions.

Those have finally stopped. 

Saturday, when I went to start my car, it gave me attitude.  Like, "it's really cold, are you absolutely positive you need milk right now?"

I did insist on getting the milk, so the car gave me more attitude trying to leave the grocery store.  Being as I'm 400 months pregnant and drive three hours a day and haul a 3 year old all over the planet, I decided I should probably handle it.

By handle it, I mean, I called my stepdad and asked him to handle it.  He told me to bring it on over on Sunday.

The thing is, this man did not have a hand in raising me.  I was 26 the first time we met.  For some reason though, we adopted each other.  He was at the hospital when Silas was born, and Silas has always called him Pawpaw. 

Yesterday, not only did he replace my battery, he aired up my tires, plugged a tire that had a nail in it and checked and filled my oil. 

I cried twice (if you ask Casey, it is completely unneccessary for me to say I cried when I tell a story as she automatically assumes I did - I'm a crybaby) and said thank you 100 times.  I am grateful.

Silas was very clingy and tired and pitiful yesterday.  It became clear why when he started throwing up at 5 this morning.  Because I've had to miss so much work lately due to my unborn offspring, I had to drag Silas to his babysitter's house and repeat "it's okay" 1000 times after he threw up on himself in the car on the way.  I'm very fortunate that I can leave him with Candice and know that he'll be taken care of and that I don't have to worry about him.  I am grateful.

The last thing on my mind this morning is that all that stands between "married" me and officially, legally single me is one more check to my lawyer and one hearing date.  I'm excited and terrified and happy and sad all at once.  I'm 100% certain it is the right thing and the best thing and that wonderful things are ahead (the excited and happy).  I also know that this changes the boys' lives forever in that they will very likely wind up with stepparents/siblings and will be shuffled back and forth and will be labeled as coming from a "broken home."  I cannot control how this will impact them or who Michael will choose to bring into their lives.  There will be no more family vacations or holidays together.  Their lives are going to be very different from what I had planned, and I have to just trust that it will all work out in their best interest (the terrified and sad). 

(Let me warn you that the rest of this is absolutely going to rub you the wrong way if you think God would never, ever condone a marriage ending.  But I'll remind you that this is my blog and my life and that I don't take things like this lightly and that you are free to not read it or feel whatever you want to feel about it.  I believe with all my heart that my footsteps have been guided by God throughout this endeavor.)

I'm not sure I've mentioned it, but I put my marriage in God's hands in January.  I sat in my hallway and had a nervous breakdown and told God, "if You want me to stay in this for the rest of my life, I will.  If you want me out of it, I will stop fighting for it."

Throughout the next couple of months (even when I got the surprise "you're pregnant!"), I was told repeatedly, "Be still and know that I am God." 

When Michael left, I didn't feel compelled to do anything to put the marriage back together (even though you'd think I would have flipped out and chased him to the end of the earth being two months pregnant and then having my father pass away).  Michael made some half-hearted attempts to come back at first, but I ignored them.

I was hurt and very angry that he had left, but I'd pray about what to do and still only hear "Be still and know that I am God."

So, I sat still and watched as my world seemed to unravel and unravel some more.  Michael called me one afternoon and said, "we aren't getting back together this time, are we?"  It seemed we were not.

After a couple of months, I felt moved to find a lawyer.  So, I asked around and got a referral and hired a very nice man to represent me.  He agreed to represent me for a flat fee and to let me pay out his fee in installments.  It easily came together in the only possible way I could have made it work.

Very shortly thereafter, I found out about the other woman.  I was devastated all over again.  Still, I didn't feel moved to fight for my marriage.

Never once did I feel like I was making the wrong choice.  Even when Silas was distraught night after night and wanted nothing more than for his daddy to come home (talk about gut-wrenching), I knew I was to sit still and let it go.  I was to soothe him the best I knew how, and I was to allow him every opportunity to spend time with his father, but I was not to try to bring Michael home.

"Be still and know that I am God."

After a bit, my life began to slowly, quietly piece itself back together.  Slowly, I began to realize I was happy again.  I began to see my marriage for what it was and to realize that no matter how deeply I loved Michael and how desperately I wanted my family to work, it was never going to be the right thing for any of us. 

I began to let it go and move on.

And now every time I come to a situation where I think "I can't do this by myself!" I'm reminded that I am not by myself.  I have this huge, extended blood-related and not-blood-related family that has surrounded me and taken me in and loves me and helps me every day.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Our future is shining bright before us.  We are all going to be okay.  I know that to my very core.

I am grateful.