Daughters

"My daughter wasn’t born into royalty, but she was born into a country where she can now vote, become a doctor, a pilot, an astronaut, or even President if she wants and that’s what really matters. I wanted her to know the value of these amazing women who had gone against everything so she can now have everything. We chose 5 women...as it was her 5th birthday but there are thousands of unbelievable women (and girls) who have beat the odds and fought (and still fight) for their equal rights all over the world...so let’s set aside the Barbie Dolls and the Disney Princesses for just a moment, and let’s show our girls the real women they can be."  

- Jamie Moore Photography 

I am absolutely terrified of having daughters. Of course boys come with their own set of struggles, but maybe (definitely) because I'm a woman, I am very aware of the pressure put on woman to be what the media wants them to be. One of my greatest priorities for my (potential future) daughters is to make sure they have good, strong role models. So when I came across this photography project a few years ago I fell in love with it immediately.

When the photographer's daughter turned five she dressed her up as successful, powerful, confident women throughout history. She wanted to show her that there is more to being a woman than being famous or thin - that being smart, hard working, and brave are the greater qualities.

Of course our daughters are going to look up to Disney Princesses and they will see the images on magazine covers, but let's make sure that our daughters have real role models to look up to as well.

Intentionality

I realize I'm a little late for a Valentines related post, so yes. That is all I have to say about that.

I've been on a big intentionality kick lately - I want to make sure that we have traditions, routines and rituals that our kids can count on and that they can carry on to their own families. I want to be the fun mom who makes pizza every Saturday and who always makes my kid's birthdays extra special. I've always known that being intentional about family time is something I wanted to be really proactive about, but I guess I never really realized how much WORK it would be. 

Seriously. It turns out that if you want to have memories, you actually have to make them. A few years ago I found myself thinking how much easier it would be to just not decorate for Christmas. I mean seriously! You spend an entire weekend removing all of your decorations, pulling new ones out, and then doing the whole thing over again in a month. Let's just skip the tradition and be on with our lives! Also, imagine the storage space you could open up if you didn't keep holiday-specific decorations around. The possibilities are endless! I digress. Christmas is important and so are traditions. Decorations it is.

One tradition we had growing up was bringing Valentines cookies to our friends. I have always wanted to carry on this tradition, and I figured this year was a good one to start. Let me tell you, it was a serious reminder of how much work it will be to actually have legitimate family traditions. I mean, I've made sugar cookies before, it's not a big deal. But for some reason the whole process became 300 times more complicated when we were doing it for a purpose, and I realized that when there are little hands wanting to crack the eggs and frost the cookies the endeavor will become 300 times more complicated. But that's ok. I want my kids to have memories and special traditions. I want our family to be close and connected. If you want something you have to work for it, right? And what could be more important to work for than family? 

I use this sugar cookie recipe. It is amazing and you will die and eat them all and gain 15 lbs. It will be worth it. 

Motherhood: Bring Your Own Vacuum

I feel like moms are always going on about how they never knew how dirty their floors were until they had a baby. I hate that. Like, I get it, kids like to stick things in their mouth and your floor is like a small thing jackpot. Let's not make this a regular topic of conversation.

It's like when you're a freshman at BYU and all of the upperclassmen are like, "Oh, the testing center is the worst. I don't even walk by it if I can help it because I hate that place so much." And you're just like, "Yes. Tests are not your favorite part of college. Let's not be dramatic." But then one day, likely in your senior year, you find yourself walking past the testing center, unsolicited sweat running down your neck, and you're just like, "What is this feeling? Could it be fear? Fear with a dose of anxiety? I don't want to walk past this building ever again." And that's when you realize that you have become one of them.

Well, you guys, I've made it. I get it. You think your floors are dirty, and then you have a baby. I remember listening to moms being like, "I vacuum every night when my kids go to bed. It's just a part of my routine." I would just sit there thinking, "Ok, self-righteous, let's take a step back. Do you really?" I mean honestly, every night? Is that also how often you scrub your shower and do the ironing? It seemed extreme. I knew I would never be that mom. 

But I get it now.

Carter is officially officially crawling. For a while he could only move backward, then he could only move to the side on hands and feet, but he is now on hands and knees, conquering the floor one inch at a time. It's terrifying.

Gone are the days when I could leave my immobile baby on the floor when I took a shower. We have no more uncovered outlets, no more unattended computer chargers, and, most importantly, no more un-vacuumed floors.

I guess never say never, right?

Thanks, Beibs. via.

In which I narrate my infant's thoughts

I know what you're thinking. Sadie gives birth and suddenly her blog is nothing but baby pictures?

That is correct. 

I know, right? No one likes a crazy overload of anything pictures, let alone baby pictures. But YOU GUYS, I swear my baby is adorable and he is the only exception to the "we all hate your baby pictures" rule. 

Also, what other option do I have? I can't possibly post every picture I want to post on Instagram because people would riot in the streets. To the blog I turn. 

Behold, my beautiful baby. Gorge your eyes. 

Mom, what is that. Get it away. Do not come closer.

No? Still coming? Ok, but I AM THE MOST INDEPENDENT CHILD EVER KNOWN so I must hold it myself.

Alright, I did it. I held it in my mouth for three seconds, spit it out, and now we are done.
Thank you for your time.  

Wait no mom did you not understand?! I said we are done! Get that thing away!

You fools. What part of "get that thing away from me" did you not understand? DID I STUTTER? 

I WILL TAKE NO MORE! *goes into full baby "I hate this and you are going to know it" mode*

Mmm. Yes. Much better. How well I have trained you. 

Better luck next time. 

Baby Story Part II

Part I

I specifically didn't write a birth plan in the event that things didn't go as I imagined. I felt like writing out a plan for something as unpredictable as child birth would only cause extra stress if things got complicated. Despite this precaution, I still had a strong mental image of how I wanted things to go. 

18 days til due date 

I wanted to be doing something completely typical of daily life - watching a movie or making dinner - when I felt the first contraction. I wanted to tell Spencer I thought I might be going into labor, and he should pack the bags as I called the doctor. I pictured getting to the hospital and pushing and grabbing Spencer's hand for dear life. I liked to think I would be one of those women who toughed it out without an epidural, though in reality I knew I wouldn't get too far. I wanted that spiritual moment of pure joy when I first heard my baby cry and I held him against my chest. I wanted a picture of my little family sitting on the hospital bed, me looking like I had been through a war, but it wouldn't matter because I had just given birth to a beautiful baby boy. I imagined I would leave the hospital a breast feeding professional. My mental birth plan was the most typical of hollywood scenes, and though I didn't want to admit it, my heart was set on it. 

The nursery coming together. So many hours were spent on that couch imagining the little boy who would occupy that room

Things started to go awry a few days before my due date when I went in for an appointment only to be told that I was nowhere near going into labor. Not only that, but my doctor was going out of town for a week and a half and another doctor would be inducing me on the 27th (a week after my due date) if I hadn't gone into labor before then. I was so disappointed that a different doctor would be delivering my baby, and I was pretty discouraged that I was showing no signs of going into labor. My one ray of hope was knowing that my baby would be here at least by the 27th, it was the thing keeping me going. 

That was soon to change. When I came in to meet with the new doctor, he informed me that he wanted to wait until my doctor got back on the 30th to induce me. I was so discouraged. Three days may not seem like a big deal, but when you're 10 days past your due date it's just about the biggest deal in the world. I sat there in the doctor's office and cried. I was so frustrated. I was sick of being pregnant, I was sick of telling people the baby still hadn't come, I was mad that I wasn't going into labor on my own, and I just wanted to meet my baby!

As I sat there trying to get my emotions under control, I asked if I could be induced. Based on family history and the way things were going, there was no way I was going to go into labor on my own, and I figured as long as I was going to be induced in a week I might as well be induced now. The doctor was very clear in his answer: a resounding "no." With my body being so far from going into labor on its own, he told me an induction would be a sentence to a c-section. Not only that, but it was against their policy. 

I was amazed at how emotionally draining it was to go so far past my due date. Every time someone asked about my pregnancy I had to fight back tears. To add to my stress, my sisters had come to town to help with the baby, and they were scheduled to leave in a few days. I had been so dependent on the thought of having them here to help once the baby had come, the thought of trying to figure out life with a new born without help from someone who had been there before was so overwhelming.

I went in for my next appointment expecting to set up an induction date on the 30th. Instead I was told to come back and meet with my doctor on the 31st. I freaked out. I was so beyond frustrated at this point. Despite my feelings, I sat there patiently until the doctor was done speaking, and then asked if I might be able to be induced on the 31st instead. I would, after all, be 11 days overdue. Having been turned down once before, I was beyond nervous that I would be turned down again. However, after a short pause, he simply said, "sure."

On my way to have a baby!

So the night of the 30th came and we set our alarms, not fully realizing that in the morning we would be on our way to meet out little boy. 

Once we were settled into the hospital, the nurse asked about a birth plan. I told her we didn't have one, only that Spencer wanted to cut the cord and that I wanted to hold my baby as soon as I could, those were the only things I had allowed myself to count on. 

And so it began. They gave me a pill to kick-start labor. They broke my water. They gave me an epidural. They started pitocin. And that's when the complications began. Every time I had a contraction, baby's heart rate would drop significantly. It became clear that there was meconium in my water. I had developed an infection, and I was freezing cold and shaking despite running a fever. They backed off the pitocin to help with baby's heart rate, they switched to internal monitors to get better readings, they started antibiotics, they made sure there would be a NICU nurse present for the delivery, they tried adding fluid back in, they put me on oxygen, they did an ultrasound, they turned me from side to side. They tried everything they could, but baby's heart rate was still going down. 

Twenty hours later I was dilated to a 10, and my doctor was able to tell that baby's head was in the wrong position. He wasn't posterior, he was in something called Brow Presentation, the least common infant position. He had his neck craned too far back and he was set to come out forehead first, which simply wasn't going to work. She tried physically moving his head, but it was no use. After 22 hours of labor, she told me she thought it was time for a c-section. 

As the nurses explained the procedure to me, they said that a c-section typically takes 10 minutes, and then another 30 to sew mom back up. I went into a panic. 10 minutes? I wasn't ready to have a baby in 10 minutes. I don't know what I had been expecting, seeing as I was in labor, but 10 minutes seemed shockingly short and I wanted more time to prepare. I was so tired, I at least wanted to be able to sleep for a few more hours before becoming a mother. 

But it turns out things like emergency c-sections don't wait for mothers to get in one last nap. They prepped me for surgery, made sure Spencer had his scrubs, and wheeled me into the OR. 

I don't fully know how to explain how I felt. I was so tired. I was exhausted. I couldn't open my eyes for more than a few seconds, and when I did everything was so blurry. I couldn't focus on anything. I kept trying to open my eyes for a solid three seconds, or at least to bring something into focus, because I wanted to be able to focus on my baby when I saw him. 

I was also freezing. I was shaking so violently that I ached. I tried putting my tongue between my teeth to stop them from chattering and my jaw from aching, but they were going too hard I was afraid I would bite through. I was afraid that if I didn't stop shaking they wouldn't let me hold my baby, someone shaking as much as me wouldn't be able to hold onto anything. Eventually I heard the anesthesiologist state that I was "shaking like a maniac," and something needed to be done about it. They ended up putting some sort of blanket that circulated heat over the top half of my body. I tried to look to see what exactly it was, but I was too tired to concentrate on it. 

The next thing I remember is hearing the doctor say that the cord was wrapped around his neck three times. The nurses repeated this information to each other in tones of shock, and so I knew it was bad. I also knew that I couldn't hear my baby making any noise. I was so tired I wasn't even sure if he had been born yet, but I very aware of the lack of crying. 

I heard the word NICU, I heard someone speaking to Spencer, and I was vaguely aware of the fact that he was leaving. Then I sat there, being stitched up on the operating table, not fully aware of the fact that my baby had just been born and I hadn't been able to see him. 

What happened next is Spencer's story to tell. He had to watch as our pale, silent, immobile baby was rushed from the room, as he had tubes attached and cuts made, as the NICU staff worked to make him breath, to make him live. He had to come back to the OR well after the alloted 30 minutes only to find out his wife was still in surgery, that there had been complications. He had to tell the family what had happened, and then repeat it to me after I had been returned to the room. He had to wait to find out if his wife and child were going to be okay without anyone there to help him through. 

Once I had come out of surgery and was a little more lucid, they wheeled me into the NICU to see my baby boy. When Spencer pointed to him as we entered, I just started to cry. I was so overcome with emotion at seeing my son for the first time. Also, I cried because it was harder on me than I ever thought it could be. 

Before anything else, I have say how lucky we are, and that I know how lucky we are. A five day stay in the NICU is almost nothing compared to some. Our baby was not premature. We were able to hold him the same day he was born. We were so blessed in so many ways to have such a quickly-recovering baby. 

But it was still hard. It still broke my heart to see my baby for the first time from a distance, to simply hold his little foot, tell him that I loved him, and then have to leave. It was impossibly hard to be a floor away recovering from surgery, not able to go see him, and have visitors come and tell me how much they enjoyed seeing him. It was impossible to feel like his mother when the nurses knew him better than I did. It was so frustrating to finally make it out of bed, into a wheelchair, and all the way upstairs only to be too exhausted to stand up and look at him because of all the blood I had lost in surgery. It was so sad to me not to be able to breast feed. 

It was so hard. 

Meeting my baby boy for the first time

Dad holding Carter for the first time

Mom holding Carter for the first time

And it continued to be hard. Breast feeding was a challenge that brought me to tears each time I tried. Feeling connected to my baby was hard. Coming to terms with having a hard time connecting was hard. All around I had a hard time, and I felt guilty because of it.

Things went slowly. Feeding is still hard and we are still working it out. But feeling connected to my little Carter? I couldn't love him more. It took a while for it to stop feeling like I was watching someone else's baby, like I was actually the mother. But when it came, it came fast and hard, and since that moment I have known without a doubt that this is my little boy, and that I would do anything for him.

My perfect little family. I love them with all of my heart. 

Baby story part 1

I knew I was pregnant before I actually knew I was pregnant. I woke up one morning feeling queazy and stopped by a gas station on my way to work for a sprite and some pretzels. One of our kitchen workers didn't think that was a sufficient breakfast so he brought me out a bowl of biscuits and gravy. It was a nice gesture, but it made me want to throw up. It was actually a little ridiculous how terrible it made me feel. So when one of the kindergarten teachers walked by and asked what was in the bowl, I practically threw it at her and begged her to eat it before the smell of it made me sick.

And so she knew, and I also knew, that I was pregnant.

It wasn't a surprise to me really. In fact, I had already taken two pregnancy tests earlier that month but they had both been inconclusive - no positive, no negative, just blank. So when I got home that night and the little plus sign appeared I didn't really feel an emotion, just validated. I sat there staring at this piece of confirmation wondering what it meant. Did that plus sign really mean I was going to have a baby? An infant-sized, breathing, heart-beating human baby? It definitely didn't click, but at the same time, all of me knew that it was true. I knew that my life had just changed forever, that I would never think about myself first ever again, that I would always have this little boy who would hold a part of my heart. I knew he was a boy from the moment I found out he existed, I never had any doubt. Spencer knew it too. 

Spencer was on a run when I found out. I frantically searched the internet for a good way to tell him we were going to be parents, but everything was sounding a little too cheesy and/or time consuming. There was no way I could go to bed knowing there was a tiny human inside of me and not tell Spencer until I had time to work out some elaborate plan. 

After he got home one of our neighbors brought over an invitation to their little boy's first birthday party. Spencer had been in the other room, so I went in and, in the grandest of announcements, said, "Benson's having a birthday . . . and we're having a baby!"

It's difficult to describe in writing something as monumental and special as your husband's reaction to finding out he's going to be a dad. It was such a surreal time, it's possible I've never seem him as happy as he was in that moment. He will be the best dad.

My sister bought us a diaper bag and I was at work when it arrived. I was so excited about it and texted spencer asking him to tell me everything! About 15 minutes later I hadn't gotten a reply and I figured he hadn't understood how serious my request had been, but then I got this video. It is longer than this, but my phone couldn't send the whole file so this is what you get. Love that boy.

We went in for an early ultrasound two weeks later to find out how many weeks I was - 8 - and heard his little heartbeat. They pointed to the smallest little dot on the screen and told me it was my baby. I just smiled and nodded because I definitely couldn't pick out the baby shaped white blur to save my life, but they gave me a due date and a heartbeat and I was so happy I could cry. 

The next 8 weeks were full of worry. I still had all of my pregnancy symptoms, but I couldn't feel baby move and I wasn't showing yet so I just had to take it on faith between appointments that he was still alive and well. I thoughtlessly ate a spoonful of cookie dough one night and just about died of worry. I was certain I had given my baby an extra head or a failing heart. Every time someone congratulated me on my pregnancy all I could think was, "I hope he is still alive." Morbid, right? It turns out mothers worry about their babies from day one.

The first purchase we made for baby. It was before anyone knew we were expecting
and I was worried someone would see us and know!

We told our families on Christmas - 10 weeks. We gave Spencer's parents a onesie saying "I love Grandma and Grandpa" and my parents a onesie that had a July calendar with the due date circled. There were tears and congratulations and happiness all around. This little baby is surrounded by so much love and he isn't even here yet.

At our ultrasounds we have learned that he loves to move. He is always on the go kicking and punching and turning all around. I have no doubt that he already has a totally unique personality, and I am so excited to see it in person. People always say that, how they are excited to meet their baby, and I guess I never understood it until now. I'm not just meeting a stranger, I'm meeting the little person who has been with me for the past nine months. I already know him and love him, and I am so excited to see him and hold him and witness his personality in action. 

Was that my hair turning gray?

Is there an official "panic" stage of pregnancy? Official or not, I'm there. In the past 24 hours I've found myself Googling things as broad as "parenting" to "how am I supposed to take care of a baby???" I've thought about the parenting class I took one too many semesters ago going crazy over where I put those notes. Why didn't I burn the things I learned there into my brain? Why is the only thing I can remember something about when babies can sleep through the night and how to get your 20-something to move out? How am I suppose to know how much to feed this thing? How the heck do you swaddle? What if it hates me? Why haven't I signed up for a parenting class at the hospital yet? Why haven't I found out if my insurance even covers such a thing? Why haven't I found a two-bedroom apartment yet? I don't cook enough family dinners. Is that something I need to work on now or will it come with time? What's the deal with Doulas? What if I register for a white crib but end up wanting a black one? What if that dream I had the other night comes true and I give birth at 21 weeks? What if that other dream comes true and no one lets me see my baby for a week after he's born? What if my baby dies while sleeping in his car seat like that article on KSL the other day? What if there are complications during birth and I lose him? How am I suppose to deep-clean my apartment before we move out? Am I eating enough vegetables? I'm definitely not eating enough vegetables. What kind of mother am I going to be if I can't even stay on top of the laundry? Is the fact that we always forgot to feed our fish a representation of our parenting skills? How are we suppose to afford this endeavor? I definitely forget to take my prenatal vitamins too often. Will that cookie dough I ate at 8 weeks give my baby a brain defect? How will I know if I'm giving my baby terrible habits that he will carry with him throughout his life?

I would call this list the tip of the iceberg. 

This will go away eventually, right? I won't always be a nervous wreck?

Baby Boy Esplin - 20 weeks down, 20 to go

I guess I'd have to say the best part of this pregnancy is if my baby comes 11 days late he will share a birthday with Harry Potter. But wait, it gets better. We have already decided to use Spencer's middle name, Kimo, for our baby's middle name. But, upon the realization that our baby could potentially share HP's birthday, I told Spence we would have to change baby's middle name to James, only to have Spencer inform me that Kimo is Hawaiian for James! Nothing can go wrong!

The other day a middle school girl at work asked me if I was pregnant. I replied by asking if she thought I was fat. It might have been a mean thing to do, but the girl needed to know that you can't ask a woman if she's pregnant until you are already 100% positive that she is. I followed up with a confirmation that I am in fact expecting, but I still hope the message got across.

We have a friend of a friend who recently finished ultra sound school so she does ultra sounds for free! Thanks to that awesome resource we were able to find out babies sex at 16 weeks without paying 100 dollars! Yay! It was all fun and games until we had been there for an hour and all we had learned was that our little squidward has some serious energy and a stubborn streak. The little monkey was moving all around and kicking up a storm, waving, sucking his thumb, but he absolutely refused to hold still long enough to get a good look. Spencer and I both knew baby was a boy from the moment I found out I was pregnant, but we wanted confirmation, dang it! We went back a week later and got the confirmation we were looking for! Yay boys!

Does anyone care what I'm craving? I feel like people always list what they're craving, but like, do people really care? Tomato based foods, for those of you who are into this kinda thing. Oh and avocado on toast, but that was just once. Food aversions? I don't know that I've had any really big aversions, except for chicken every once in a while, mostly I'm using pregnancy as an excuse to not eat the foods that I've always disliked. Fish? I can't, I'm pregnant and it makes me sick. Mayo? Same story. I've always been a picky eater and I have the palate of a 12 year old boy, so pregnancy has been a great excuse for me to not eat the foods I've always avoided.

My "morning sickness" usually came at about 4:00 pm, but it left pretty abruptly at 13 weeks. I was beyond exhausted my entire first trimester, one Friday night going to bed at 7:30 and not waking up until 9:00 the next morning. I don't fit in maternity clothes yet but my normal clothes are way too tight, so everyday I have an emotional break down over what to wear. Spencer is so patient. My belly popped up over night at 16 weeks, and I think I started feeling baby move at 18 weeks, but it was hard to be sure until just a few days ago.

We are just so excited about our little addition to the family! There are many more details of my life I could cram into your head, but I'm watching the Oscars and Ellen definitely just passed out Pizza so now I have to get me some food, yo. 

Elevators and children

Scene: Mid-afternoon, office building, Sadie gets on an elevator already occupied by a 3-year-old boy and his mother. 

Boy: "Why are you getting on? Get off!"

Sadie: "Get off?"

Boy: "Yes!"

Sadie: "But I need to go down!"

Mother: "That wasn't very nice, you need to say sorry."

Boy: "Yeah! Say sorry!"

Mother: "Um, no, you need to say sorry."

Boy: "Oh. I'm sorry. 

So what we learn here is that children don't like me? Children are protective of elevators? Children have no filter? I think we all know that children have no filter, and I also think that is my favorite thing about them. I am so fearful of/excited for the day my child points and exclaims loudly that "Mom!! Doesn't he know smoking is bad?!?"

There's just nothing you can do, you know? Once a child has spoken, the truth is out, and there is no amount of apology on the mother's side that can undo the damage.

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Mommy Cards

Ok. It's time to talk about it. Those Vista Print commercials, the free 250 business card ones? It's cool and all, but what get me is this line: "... use them as business cards, dating cards, mommy cards and more!"

Am I hearing this wrong? Did they just suggest that I hand out mommy cards? Am I the only one who has no idea what this is? Am I handing out cards letting people know that I am a mother, should they be interested in play dates they can call me? Am I offering mothering classes? Am I saying that I will adopt your unwanted children? 

Ok. I googled it. You guys, mommy cards are a real and actual thing with websites! One of these sites even has a list of the top 10 reasons that you need a mommy card:

Top 10 Reasons to use your Mommy Cards:

1.     New moms you meet and want play dates with

2.     Contact info for Babysitter

3.     Neighbors

4.     Existing friends (the cards are just too cute not to share)

5.     Put in holiday cards, birthday cards, thank you cards and more

6.     When dropping off your child at someone’s house for a play date or birthday party

7.     If your child is lost you can give out the card with their picture on it to help find them

8.     Keep one in your suitcase or diaper bag in case it gets lost

9.     Will make grandparents smile

10. Just for fun!

via http://themommycard.com/pages/TopTen.htm 

This is a joke, right? People realize that cell phones exist and are great for exchanging numbers and showing pictures? 

Is it just me? Are mommy cards a real thing that are actually useful and handed out regularly? Do you have mommy cards and do you find them useful?

Shed the light. Share the knowledge. But mostly, back me up. This is crazy, right?

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