Babies, Bodily Fluids, and Easter... in a nutsell

Scarlett and her Great grandma... LOVE!

What a crazy month! My little Scarlett is almost six weeks old already, how did that happen???

Life with a newborn is always interesting, but it gets a little more so with each addition. It is a juggling act keeping up with the very different needs of four human beings at wildly different stages in life. We have the almost teenager who is going through big changes, the content four year old (who would have ever thought that a four year old would be the easiest child?), the enraged two year old, and the new baby.

I have discovered that Scarlett has two main likes, being fed and being held. If I do those two things almost constantly, she is pretty happy. She does supply a large amount of things to clean. She likes to spit up just around the time that one of us is wearing a clean shirt OR I just happened to forget the burp rag. She also prefers to poop in a clean diaper that has only been on her for less than 10 seconds, sometimes she poops before I even get the second tab fastened. She is a beautiful sleeper at night though. She is currently sleeping longer than my boys! She is a great snuggler, too. She has dropped a few smiles in the last few days and been awake more. Her tiny personality will soon emerge.

She lives a rough life!

Other notable occurrences over the last month, the once a week barfest.... I can't explain this oddity. Let me just begin with the fact that I am TERRIFIED of barfing. When someone in my house barfs, I go in to a mental tale spin. I panic.... How many times will they barf? Where will they barf? WHO WILL BARF NEXT??? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH So, on my birthday, Denton walks into my room and vomits lasagna (TMI) on my carpet. Happy birthday Mom!!! We missed the birthday party that night, but he was fine the rest of the day. This was on Sunday, so now I am counting the days for the incubation period. Any time anyone acts even remotely weird I scream, "ARE YOU GOING TO THROW UP!!!????" at them. I chase them around, doing the basketball REJECTED slap every time they have someone else's cup in their hand. BOOM REJECTED!!! Nothing happens. YAY!

Then, on the next Sunday.... Michael walks into the kitchen and throws up on the floor while I am making dinner. AHHHHH!!!! Cue the hyperventilation and pouring apple cider vinegar down everyone's gullets (this is the newest sure fire avoid the stomach bug cure I read about on the last vomit). Now, back to a week of psychotic hand washing, reject slapping, giving hour long lectures any time someone shares ANYTHING with ANYONE!.... nothing happened. 

This time, I actually gave up the panicking a little sooner. We all spent a lovely day at the zoo that Thursday. It was very warm, water cost a fortune, we shared two bottles of water. It was a glorious day!! 

See the smiles!

We came home and had pizza, yummy! Everyone was HUNGRY, especially Reghanne, she ate A LOT (can you see where I am going here?) Everyone was tired and cranky, Reghanne was sent to bed early. Then a couple of hours later, her door slams open and she runs into the bathroom and doesn't shut the door. I look at Clint quizzically and say "What's that about?" then I get my answer.... She has thrown up... pizza.... on the floor... hheeee whoooo hee whoooo (this is the sound of panic) WE SHARED WATER TODAY!!!! I am almost in tears. Anyways, nothing happened. And that is, HOPEFULLY, the end of this strange tale.

We have also had FIVE baby lambs since Scarlett was born. Two of which I watched being born, which was amazing and hard. I felt bad for my mama sheep. We cheered them on! They were champs! 

How cute is this guy??

Scarlett had a couple of notable firsts this month. Her first Ranger's game. We went for Daddy's birthday and we even stole our Bubby and took her along. It was a super fun day!

Rockin' a hair bow!

She also had her first Easter and her first "bluebonnet picture". Easter was so fun, we had all the cousins over. We hunted, played, dyed, and ate!

Flower child.

They tried but it was misty and Lauren wasn't having it!

Worst bluebonnet picture ever!

Reghanne is hard at work trying to make beautiful eggs, while Michael dyed them ALL blue!

Daddy got to spend time with the kiddos!

And here are a few pictures, just because.

I said aloof, not a doof! 

Blue snow cones rock!

I wanna soak up the sun!

Well, I guess that is all for now. :D

Scarlett's Birth Story

I have really been putting off writing this birth story. It has almost been two weeks now, and somehow, that seems like a lifetime. I almost can't imagine life without her, and I almost can't imagine going through the labor. How does that happen? How does something that is so very, very real and so very, very memorable turn into something that you almost can't believe you did in just two short weeks?

I had been having some prodromal labor for a couple of weeks. I had even had about 9 hours of continuous contractions on this rare and random March day that was filled with ice and sleet. I am glad she didn't come then. I was worried about my midwives driving in that weather. So, on March 11, we went for our 40 week appointment. That morning I ran errands, returned a faucet, bought chickens and dog food, and headed to see Roxanne. I told Roxanne that I was done sitting around waiting to go in to labor, it would happen and I had too much to do. She checked me and said I was about a 2 and had effaced some, so it was sure to happen at some point and all those contractions I had been having were not for nothing.

I went home that afternoon and hung out with the big kids outside. It was such a beautiful day! I had a book club meeting that night, so I made an early dinner for the Daddy and big kids and we ate. Just about the time I was supposed to leave for my meeting, I felt exhausted and not great. I had been feeling really great all day, but this feeling was just overwhelming and I decided to stay home and go to bed early.

I sat up in bed around 1 AM trying to figure out what had woken me. A few minutes later, I got my answer... ouch! Immediately I thought, "Great... another night of contractions. I am never going to get any sleep." So, I laid back down and tried to just go back to sleep. Then another contraction, laying down was not cutting it... this actually hurt pretty bad. I was really having to breathe through them. I wrote down the first contraction at 1:24 and got out of bed to try to let Clint sleep. No reason to make everyone suffer. I went to the living room and sat on the birth ball. They were coming roughly every 10 or so minutes and they were not pulling any punches. I was hurting. Sitting in the dark, just wondering if I should wake someone up. I kept making deals with myself, "Okay, if it goes on for an hour, I will wake him." "If they get closer together, I will wake him." I was excited though because I thought it was the 13th. The 13th is "our lucky day". We like everything to be on the 13th for easy remembering. I looked at my phone and realized it was the 12th, I decided I was fine with the 12th because I certainly didn't want to be in labor for 24 hours! ha ha ha (warning: foreshadowing)  I decided to walk, because that had actually stopped them on that icy night before.The walking actually made them get to about 4 minutes apart, so I sat down again. After every contraction, I had to use the restroom. I was so tired, and really lonely. Sitting in the dark, breathing through these contractions. I went to the laundry room and watched our new little day old chicks, sleeping and snuggled under their infrared bulb. That was actually kind of calming and warm. I decided as long as they were somewhat far apart, I'd let everyone sleep.

Around 4 ish, I decided to try to lie down again. They were still pretty regular, but I knew if I was going to labor that day, I needed some rest. I laid down and almost sort of slept for about 30 minutes before I was hit with another hard contraction. At 5, Clint's alarm went off. THANK GOODNESS! I had been waiting for hours to have someone to commiserate with me! I told him, I don't think you can go to work today, I might be in labor, I have been up since 1:30 am. He was not really thrilled that I hadn't told him. He asked me how close they were and I said ten minutes, but he thought I said two! I think he said something like "Heather NICOLE!" and I was like, "NO, NO TEN minutes!" ha... He said "Is it the 13th?" I told him I'd had that thought too, but it was the 12th, which was fine with me. He joked that maybe she wouldn't be born until the 13th and I let him know, I didn't think that was cute.

At his insistence, I called Roxanne, I let her know what was up and Clint went and made me coffee and breakfast: bacon, eggs, grits... YUM! I also called Mom and her and Roxanne both said they'd get ready and head over. They came and we sat around and chatted. I walked, the kids got up. They were happy to see Ms. Roxanne was there and knew what that meant! Finally, baby sister day!

I was anxious and tired of just walking in circles, so I made Roxanne and my Mom some breakfast. It was a really nice distraction, and it kept me moving. The more I moved, the closer they got, and I was tired. I kept resting on the birth ball or a chair off and on. Clint told me the more I moved, the faster she'd come. I just really wanted to lie down!! But it was no use, it hurt too much. At some point, I had Roxanne check me to make sure it was really labor. I was a 5 and 80% so that made me feel better. (some of this is foggy, I probably should of written this sooner). My Mom asked me to help her plan our dinner menu, as we all figured I would have Scarlett and we'd have dinner. Cue the fireworks and happy smiles. The end! ha ha ha

We decided on meatloaf, mashed potatoes, roasted veggies, and the kids and my mom baked a strawberry birthday cake, complete with HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCARLETT 3/12/14. ha ha ha

Here is where it gets jumbly. I will have the hubby provide some edits after he has read it. I took a shower, which really helped, but eventually the hot water runs out. I got checked again. I was an 8 and fully effaced. That was so great to hear on my part, at an 8 with Michael, I was holding him within the hour. I figured we were on the downward slope at this point. I think the intern midwives came while I was in the shower. I remember telling Clint that everyone wasn't even here yet and he said "Yeah they are, they are all four here, in the living room." Dinner time came... and went... I felt yucky, and hungry, and bad... so, I just ate a small plate to fight starvation and keep my strength, but not too much, I didn't want to be sick. We were all in my room, watching old sitcoms: Sanford and Sons, All in the Family, etc. I was laughing between contractions. Those shows always entertain me, I just love them! I kept feeling like I was SO CLOSE, almost to transition. I'd get uncontrollable shakes and then nothing would happen. The contractions would even sort of stop. Then they would come really fast and hard again. I remember sitting on the toilet through some, that helped. I started getting upset and frustrated. She checked me and said I was really close. I just needed to relax. It was hard though, I was frustrated and so dead, dog tired! I had never been so tired. I started to get scared that something was wrong. I was scared that I wouldn't have the strength to finish.

I decided on a shower. That would help me relax. So, I got in. Clint paced. Roxanne had told me to try squatting and bearing down through some contractions to finish dilation, so I did that...

When I got out I felt sort of renewed! My contractions kind of stopped. I sat down in a chair in my towel. She suggested I eat... I had an apple and sent to Clint to get a cheese stick. When he returned and handed it to me, I just burst in to tears. I just couldn't do it. I felt like I was failing. It hurt. I was tired. In my head, I just wanted to go to the hospital or something. I don't really know. I knew I'd likely not make it to the hospital without having her, I just wanted to be anywhere else. Like the act of leaving this place would somehow alleviate the pain. I was a mess. Roxanne was right there, every second. Assuring me. Clint was there. I just couldn't do it! Clint told me to get up and move some more, that it would get her there. I just couldn't!! The 12th came and went... it really was the 13th... Clint prayed with me, that God would help me and we'd finish and we'd be healthy and everything would be safe. Roxanne gave me some witches brew to cure all ails.

I calmed down, and stood up and here they came again. Harder and faster than ever. The other midwives came in and I knew I was in transition because I sounded like some sort of cross between a wild animal and the exorcist. I kept asking if it was time to push, it wasn't. This went on for awhile. Hard contractions. Me asking if it was time to push. Me telling Clint mean stuff, weird stuff, in whispers. I don't want to divulge too much here. I said I was tired and laid down on my pillows. I almost fell asleep. I told Clint I was going to pass out, like asleep... he thought I meant pass out for real. The next contraction hit and I said OHHHH NO SHE IS COMING OUT OR SOMETHING! and I jumped up really fast. It was FINALLY time to push... and it hurt. So, I kept standing up like I was going to run away or something. I would have, if I could have, if it would help at all. They kept telling me to press down into the contractions, I think I kept telling them no because that hurt. I asked them why I didn't do "shit the normal way, in the hospital with drugs!!!" (haha just kidding, I didn't really want that... well...) My water broke. Then I felt her little head!

They told me she had a lot of hair. Then, they said to stop pushing... fine by me! Her hand was by her head! There is the problem. She had to be re-situated some. She wasn't even completely born and she started to cry! Then finally, she was here! 1:34 AM... almost exactly 24 hours after my first contraction. So pink and beautiful.

See how pink! She matches the towel!

 I collapsed on the bed. My mom and Reghanne came in. The midwife team was in high gear. But I was in slow motion. Eventually, I sat up on the bed. She nursed. Clint woke the boys up and brought them in one at a time. Denton was sleepy and happy to see his sister. Michael never managed to get his eyes open! Poor guy! Then they checked her all out. She was perfect, of course! Some wonderful person ran us a nice warm bath and Scarlett and I got in and floated around a bit while we talked to Daddy in the dark. It was so relaxing and wonderful!

I got out, and my bed was made! The laundry was started. No sign that a baby had just been born here. Roxanne gave me the rundown of do's and don'ts... then they quietly slipped out and we all went to sleep. You can't beat a home birth!!! And you can't beat Roxanne, Clavel, Laurie, and Jeanne. You really can't... they are the best group of ladies ever and I couldn't have done any part of any of that without them. They loved on my hubby, my kiddos, and my Mom too. They treated us all like family, and we are so very grateful they were with us on this big day!

I have pictures to add... someday when I find my camera cord thing.

A year...

My husband sent me a link today from my post almost exactly a year ago. A poem I wrote, and forgot. Find it here: I am a Mama The timing is wonderful. It has been a year since I wrote here.

What did I do for a year? Well, if we are being honest, it was a pretty wild year.

Shortly after I wrote that post last  year, I went back to working away from the home. We are self employed business owners, and sometimes, as a family, we make sacrifices. I went back to work and things got crazy! I was away from home 5-6 days a week. My husband was juggling soccer and baseball on weekends, my mom was juggling kids on the weekdays. We were doggy paddling to stay afloat, praying everyday, and thankful for the opportunity I had to work.

Somewhere in the middle of that temporary job, I got another job! It was a miracle too. It fell in my lap and was the answer to a million prayers! I could work from home and be with the kids while still connecting the dots between not enough and enough.

After three months of working two jobs, I finally finished the temporary job, took a month off the regular job and headed to Hawaii with the kids and my grandparents.

Hallelujah!!!

This is just what the doctor ordered!

We missed Daddy a lot, but as a gift and a huge surprise, my Grandpa brought him over for the second half of the trip!

We found out about our big surprise right after this was taken.

I was really happy to see Daddy, but for some reason, my brain didn't think so. I was mean to him. I am never mean to him, so this was kind of strange. Right after we took this picture, we went back to the house and found out that we were expecting a baby!! No wonder Mom was mean and didn't feel well!

So, after months of financial uncertainty, here we were, expecting a baby. I was scared, Clint was elated. He called my first few months of pregnancy pre-partum depression :) Miracles began to shower down on us. Opportunities that hadn't been there before, checks in the mail we weren't expecting, and slowly I was able to really get excited. We found a wonderful midwife after a lot of looking and found out we were having a our first little girl together. Finally, a little sister!!

It's a girl.

Sometime in February we got really brave and decided to have our little girl at home. And, to come full circle, on March 13, 2014 at 1:34 AM, almost exactly a year after I published my Ode to Motherhood, we welcomed our fourth child into the world. Scarlett Wynelle Hardin. Our miracle, our joy, the great addition to our happiness.

Sweet baby!

So, now we start a new adventure. I am hoping to get back to writing here. It is purely selfish though. Not for you at all really. When I went back and read my posts, I felt the memories just wash over me. I loved reading my thoughts from a year ago. I loved seeing my kids during times gone by. I love this little record.

I am a Mama...

I am a Mama.
I grow and I stretch.
I endure pain and torture.
For three months, I wretch.

When it is over, if I am lucky,
I count tiny fingers and call you my Monkey.

I am a Mama.
I hold tiny hands.
I comfort big tears.
I explore foreign lands.

Your imagination astounds me.
And if I am lucky,
I will watch you grow up, but you'll still be my Monkey.

I am a Mama.
I try to protect you,
from fears and from dangers.
I won't let anything get you!

I will work until it hurts,
I will stand and not bend.
I will do what it takes,
To meet all the ends.

This title wasn't just given,
It was earned,
Every letter.
I am YOUR Mama,
I pray you never wish for better.

God trusted me,
a sinner, no saint.
But, each day he gives me,
the courage, the strength.

I am a Mama,
but my hope rests in my Father.
I will give all I have,
for my sons and my daughter.

This is not fake.

So, I read this blog yesterday. I read a lot of blogs, I don't know. Anyways, this particular blog was how we should all stop lying on Facebook. Stop pretending our kids are adorable little angels. Start being "real" about our life. For me, this is real.

We really eat with our feet here.

I am a real person. I really have crappy days. I don't really see why I need to whine in my Facebook status about my crappy day. Who needs to know? How is whining in a very public forum going to fix my crappy day? What GOOD does it do?

If I am having a crappy day, I feel like I am going to "really" do one of two things: Say nothing. or Try to make it better. Try to focus on the positive. How is that fake?

I do not post pictures of Michael, screaming at my feet, pushing me away from the stove with snot pouring out of his face. I don't post pictures of Reghanne's latest math meltdown, or Denton falling to pieces because he can't have lemonade. I post cute pictures of my kids because other peoples cute pictures of their kids, sometimes cheer me up. Who wants to see a snotty nosed baby that isn't theirs? And, to be honest and real real selfish, I post pictures of my kids because when someone comments on them, or I am just browsing old pics out of boredom, it brings memories pouring back into my head. Things I have forgotten, times I don't remember. I always walk away with a smile on my face.

We really love ice cream.

At church the other day, we heard a great sermon about "Getting our shine on!" and how when you shine, it brings GLORY to God! I don't think posting every little bad thing or minute detail of your terrible day or every rant and rave you ever think about, real or not, is going to bring one ounce of glory to your Heavenly Father. If I was a better church goer, I would have written down ALL of the verses he gave about being the salt, being the light, letting people smack both of your cheeks and steal all your clothes, and not complaining, but I didn't. So... just know he said that stuff mm kay.

I am BLESSED to be this stressed. My worst day home with my kids, is better than my best day away from them. That is real. My husband makes me laugh, when all I want to do is cry because I had a bad day. That is real. My friends find ways to lift me up, even when they have no clue that I am down. That, my friends, is real. Bitching and moaning is not the kind of REAL I want to be. I want to be REAL positive, REAL happy, and REALLY focused on God.

I am not saying I will never say another bad thing on Facebook, but for me, my goal is to avoid it. Just sayin'.

Nothing is Forever

Hello friends, it has been a long time since I have written. This is not due to lack of material, my children are constantly giving me great topics. I have a real lack of time mostly, my growing family keeps me busy.

I have been thinking lately about forever. I have had many instances with my children where I have though "Oh my GOSH! They are never going to stop (whatever it is)!!!" Denton was a major nursing lover. I mean, he loved his time at the tap. I thought to myself, "He is going to nurse until he is 40!" Then, one day, he stopped. He just STOPPED and never nursed again. He also was a beast to potty train. We fought, and struggled and I gave up about 10 times. Then, one day, he just stopped fighting (mostly). Same thing with co-sleeping.

Brothers!

All of these things, at the time, felt like insurmountable challenges that would never end. Now, here I am, in the thick of things with another little boy. If I ever thought Denton was headstrong and stubborn, Michael is ALL of that and then some. At almost 15 months old, he is still nursing 6 times a day and every two hours at night. He refuses to sleep anywhere but my bed, no matter how "comfy" I make it in an attempt to trick him. It is hard to get angry though, because I look at Denton, and remember, one day he won't need me as much. I look at Reghanne and know, one day he probably won't even want my help.

A moment of sweetness

I think I can apply this lesson to any facet of my life. Those bills aren't going to be there forever. The laundry from all these little people, will eventually disappear. The stress I feel today about whatever it is, is fleeting. Nothing is really forever in this life. Each season will pass like breath, and we find ourselves in a different challenge. Sometimes it is harder, sometimes it is not, but it will be different. All I can do, is continue forward, not wishing for the current challenge to be over, but enjoying the moment that I am in today. Those midnight cuddles, sibling struggles, and potty battles are going to turn into grown ups one day. I must relish even the difficult times!

A vision of the future

Moldy bread never said "I love you"

Just in case you all didn't know about it, I am pro-life. Not just a little bit, not just when it is easy... always, zealously, unashamedly. It is what I am, I have always been this way since I found out what abortion was as a kid. As a child, I knew that a life was a life, no matter what.

Just in case you didn't know about it, I have felt a call on my life recently to minister to those who are post-abortive and pre-abortive and to those who have lost their way sexually and don't know how to make it back.

When I was younger, I would look at a person who had chosen abortion and my heart would break for that baby. A life that would never be lived. A smile that would never be seen. A tiny hand that would never be held. I decided I would love those babies, even though they were never allowed to live. While I had so much love in my heart for those babies, my heart was filled with anger towards their mothers. A baby isn't an inconvenience... it is a person. How could they murder a child so that their life could continue on, unaltered (in theory)?

As I have grown and matured, I have felt a pressing on that anger. My anger has turned to sadness for the mothers of all those precious little lives. Because their life doesn't continue on unaltered. I have heard COUNTLESS tales of the hurt and pain endured over a lifetime after an abortion. So instead of the "inconvenience" of a child, these women are burdened with pain and emptiness, and a void that they feel can never be filled. I know that those women's pain is not any less real just because it was a "choice" they made.

I have been vocal about my pro-life stance lately and last week a person that I know said "The loaf of moldy bread on the counter is a life, but I'm not keeping that around." I have rolled that thought around in my head for a week. At the time, I didn't know HOW to react to it. I didn't want to react in anger, because I don't think approaching this subject with anger is going to do anyone any good. At the time, I deleted the comment, and deleted the person. After a week, I know what to say now. A moldy loaf of bread never said "I love you." It never wrapped its tiny arms around me and kissed me. It never filled my heart with pride at an accomplishment. It never cried out for my touch alone in a moment of pain. Moldy bread never looked into my eyes and unleashed its first blinding smile on the world. It never giggled during a tickle fight. Moldy bread is not akin to human life in any way, shape, or form. Moldy bread is dead and on its way out. It is not useful to the world. It won't change the face of the planet. A baby, a zygote, a fetus, and embryo... it is LIFE on its way IN! Its very presence in the womb is already changing the world.

I have friends who are post-abortive, and I want to tell you, I love you. I hope that you have found the hope and healing. I love you. Your baby loves you. God loves you. You are more than that decision. You can or have been remade in Christ. I am not judging you. I am not condemning you. I love you.

And if you or someone you know is struggling with the decision of abortion, please talk to me. I will GLADLY take your baby or help you find someone to take your baby, in a heart beat, in a minute, no questions asked. I am putting that out there and it is the truth. I love you, and I love your baby.

Yesterday someone posed a question that was posed to them, "If you stop abortion, what will you do with all those babies?" and my answer is, "I will love them."

That is all.