I wish I had been sleeping more when I ordered Henry's birth announcements.

I would have been thinking more clearly and would have said,

"completely smitten, andrew and ali"

"completely confused, franklin".

Since Henry's arrival, Franklin has been amazing with him.

He just isn't sure what to think of him.

Franklin turned three on Monday.

I suppose it's time to quit calling him Puppy Franklin. He is grown up.

Actually, on May 29th, when we brought Henry home from the hospital, he officially grew up.

We had thought all along while I was pregnant with Henry that Franklin knew a change was coming. And when I woke up on Sunday, May 27th with contractions, he jumped in bed with us and laid his head on my belly for hours. It was time, and he sensed it.

Time for Henry to arrive, and time for Franklin to grow up.

I'm not saying he's a saint; he still has slip-ups.

He likes to bark at the mailman when I'm trying to get Henry to nap. He dug in the mud in the middle of the night while I was up feeding the baby and had to have a bath at 3am. He still loves to run into the nursery and grab the faux fur off the ottoman and run around with it.

But. He is so good with Hank.

Just comes up and smells him...sometimes gives him a kiss. But usually just sniffs and then lays down beside us.

And always comes into the nursery with me for the middle-of-the-night feedings.

His world has changed, but surely he knows we still love him so much.

And so does Henry.

Wednesday Morning

June 19, 2012

 

 

One of our neighbors always gives Andrew a hard time about being cheap.  In a joking, loving kind of way, but also because, well...
she knows he doesn't like spending money.  And, he doesn't care.  Completely unapologetic about this.  

Case in point, during our first year of marriage when we lived in our apartment, one of our bedroom doors didn't stay open.  It shut on its own unless you propped it open with something.  I told him I was going to buy a doorstop the next time we went to Target.  He told me not to...he could make one.  He said he could pretty much make or fix anything.  And, usually he's right.  

(For the record, I did buy the doorstop.)

I admire him so much for always being willing to put in the extra time DIY takes, especially from this past 10 months when I was pregnant with Henry and couldn't help as much with projects as I normally would.  

But, the downfall to this quality is that he never EVER spends money on himself.  Even when he deserves it.  Especially when he deserves it.

So, I wanted to make his first Father's Day special.  I wanted something to mark this monumental event in his life.
I wanted to give him something he would never get himself.

Henry and I surprised him with breakfast, cards and a monogrammed leather weekender bag.  One that he can have for years
and remember when he uses it that he got it to celebrate how wonderful he is for our family.  And how much we love him.  

And, in true Andrew-fashion, he loved the breakfast, breezed through the cards
and couldn't believe we would spend that kind of money on him for his gift.  

And, in true Dad-fashion, I'm pretty sure he loved the last gift we got him the most.

A framed picture of his family for his desk at work.

(Which I LOVE and also got peed on three times to get this shot, but it was worth it!)

Happy Father's Day.

Week One with Henry

(Also known as, "I was lazy and used Instagram more than my real camera."

He's here.

And we could not possibly love another human any more than as much as we love Henry.

I wanted to share his birth story as soon as possible.  To share the details of how our little guy came into our lives. 
And most importantly, so I don't forget any of those details.  

I found myself making mental notes all day on Monday, May 28th, 2012.  Memorial Day.  How fitting.  A day of remembrance, and a day to remember.

Henry Anderson Moore

Born May 28th, 2012; 10:28am

Wesley Birthcare Center, Wichita, Kansas

Seven pounds, four ounces

21 inches long

--

On Saturday, May 26th, Chris and Lauren drove from Kansas City as they were back from D.C. visiting family and had planned on meeting you.  Except you were at that time a week late and had shown no signs of arriving anytime soon.  We went to lunch, spent a couple of hours at the pool (I rocked my two piece with a cover-up on) and went to dinner before the Dawsons drove back home. 
Andrew and I both commented how we had the best day with them. 

That evening, you were moving and moving and moving.  You were noticeably more active, and Andrew ironically said, "I better feel it in case it's the last time."  We sat on the couch together with all four of our hands feeling you kick and twist and wriggle.  

I went to bed around 9:30pm, and a bit after midnight woke up having contractions.  They were noticeably different than the contractions I'd been having infrequently for the past several weeks.  For one, they actually hurt.  And the pain was concentrated.  But most of all, they were coming regularly and getting closer together.  I woke up Andrew after about an hour of timing them.  They became five minutes apart within a few hours, and we decided to go to the hospital.  Andrew loaded up the Tahoe, we fed and let Franklin out and arrived a bit before 7am.  No dialation.  

But my blood pressure was high, which was weird since it had been so good my entire pregnancy so they hooked me up to a monitor to track that, my contractions and your heart rate.  After a few hours, they checked me again.  No progress.

So, we were sent home and told to come back later in the day when the contractions were 3-4 minutes apart
and more of a seven on the pain scale instead of the current three or four I was at.

I took a bit of a nap, and then the contractions started in again.  More intense.  They became 3-4 minutes apart very quickly. 
I could tell Andrew wasn't sure if it was time yet, but he agreed to go back in the hospital to check.

No progress again.

My blood pressure was better, but again, they hooked us up and monitored everything for a couple of hours.  That was tough.  Lying in bed and not being able to move through contractions like I had hoped.  No walking the halls or trying the tub.  When they checked me a couple of hours later, still no progress.  And they sent us home again.  I was so discouraged.  I couldn't believe my body wasn't doing what it was supposed to after a full day of breathing and focusing through contractions.  And the "Ready, Set, Not Yet!" pamphlet they sent with us when we left was such a dagger.

The Ambien they gave me though to help my body relax and sleep was great.  I was going on three hours of sleep from the night before and was able to get three more on Sunday night before I woke up again just a bit after midnight when contractions picked up.  The pain was incredible.  Since we knew you were sunny side up from our sonogram on Thursday, I was afraid of having back labor, and although I didn't feel as much pain there every time,
it was definitely happening.

I had to stand, sway and moan through every contraction just to manage.

I tried taking a shower thinking the hot water would help; it didn't.  I had five contractions within 10 minutes in the shower and got out and woke up Andrew.  He was so nervous we'd get to the hospital and be turned away again that he took his sweet time showering.  And decided to shave.  And meanwhile, I'm trying to blow dry my hair and have to stop every couple of minutes to handle the next contraction. 
After three contractions hit in a row with no break, I lost my patience and we very quickly drove back to Wesley. 

When our admittance nurse checked us, I had finally dilated.  To a five!  Such a relief.

And so was the epidural I got as quickly as possible.

I had wanted to make it naturally, but after 24 hours of consistent contractions, I was beat.  Mentally and physically.  I had experienced so much anxiety about getting an epidural and had wanted to avoid it to avoid being claustrophobic and then really losing control, but it was amazing.  Such a good decision.  I relaxed.  My water broke on its own.  Our next few hours were enjoyable and exciting, not unbearable. 

We tried to nap, but I was too excited.  It was finally happening.  

At 9am, I was complete.  Our on-call doctor came in and decided to let you labor down since you had already progressed so much lower on our own.  There was so much anticipation in the next hour.  We were going to meet our son or daughter! 
Andrew played music off my laptop.  We discussed names.

If you were a girl, you would have either been Caroline Faye Moore or Clementine Louree Moore.

 Faye from the Moore side, Louree from the Boye side.  

We were both feeling Clemmie Lou.  

But he was pretty sure you were a boy after seeing your sweet face on Thursday and noticing the resemblance to your daddy.

At 10am, we started pushing.  I could feel contractions coming on, but no pain, and we got three or four good pushes out of each one.  Your heart rate was dropping a bit during contractions, and they thought your cord might be pinched so we decided to use the vacuum to assist with the delivery.  

I thought we might be getting close and just when I was going to ask how many more pushes, you crowned.  One more and you were out!  

The doctor said, "It's a boy!" and I looked at Andrew and said, "Baby Henry!" and you were here and real and perfect. 
The nurses and doctor said you were your daddy's mini-me; you looked so much like him.

The moment they put you on my stomach will never leave me.  The feeling of your weight on top of me and your little body was so incredible.

You were purple and screaming, but pinked up so quickly once they got you dried off and placed you on my chest.  You screamed for what seemed like so long until you heard my heart beat and calmed down.  You had so much hair and held your head up so well already.  And just stared at me.  

And I was changed.

Just like that, I was a mom.

I was your mom.

--

The day you were born, Andrew and I just stared at you for hours and hours and hours.  We were so proud of you and proud to be your parents.  I wish I would have counted how many times your daddy looked at you and just said, "I love him.  He's perfect." over and over again. 

And you are.