Sunday, April 22, 2012

Cohen Elway Boyer...Welcome to Team Awesome


Do I really have two kids?!  

Evie Francis & Cohen Elway



Cutest Big Sister and Little Brother





Apparently.

  

 Cohen Elway Boyer
April 16, 2012 3:08 p.m.
8 lbs. 14 oz. 22 ½ in.

 
Nearly every time I look down into this sweet boy’s face I can’t help but think to myself, “you were in my belly not technically true, but I rarely think the word “uterus” just days ago.  Hours, really.”  Surreal doesn’t even begin to describe what this new world of mine feels like so far.  Nor does adjustment seem to be an adequate word to describe the spin all of our lives on Team Boyer just took with the addition of one new little dude.
Team Awesome
So…how did all of our lives change so dramatically?  Here it is.  The birth story.  In all its infinite glory.   

**Disclaimer:  actual birth story may not be as dramatic as I may have just made it seem.**

I actually have not even reached my due date yet.  It is not until April 23, but at my last couple of doc appointments my blood pressure started climbing ever so slightly and the puffiness in my legs and feet was reaching super sexy proportions, so Dr. Benham decided we could go ahead and schedule the arrival of the new kid one week early.  This swollen, carpal tunnel ridden mama was more than inclined to agree.

At this point, I'm not fully decided on how I feel about being induced.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am not opposed to the idea of using medicine to get things rolling.  I’m talking about the actual idea of knowing when you’re going to go into labor.  Definite pros and cons.  Pro:  you know when you’re going into labor.  AKA you can shave your legs, have your bag packed as well as all the last minute things you have to throw in there, shower.  Con:  that last night is kind of tortuous.  My induction was scheduled for Monday the 16th.  So, I was told I would receive a call from the hospital sometime on that day to tell me when to come in.  That means I could theoretically receive a call anytime between the hours of midnight and midnight.  I knew I was first on the list of inductions that day, so I was pretty confident I would get a call around 6 a.m.  But you never know.

Needless to say, the anticipation of finally getting to meet the baby boy growing inside of me coupled with not knowing exactly when I would get the call made for a very restless night.  And that was probably the biggest con of all.  Instead of the last night being the last night I actually got to sleep, it turned into a night of repeated wake ups and not just to pee.

I ended up getting a phone call from the hospital at 4:20 a.m. asking me if I could come in at 6 a.m.  Brant and I had already decided that I could go to the hospital alone (sniff) so he could stay with Evie.  We figured that was an easier route than waking her to take her to my parent’s house or asking my dad to come over so early in the morning.  Not to mention that we knew the real action wouldn’t start in my first few hours at the hospital anyway.

Everything was pretty routine once I reached the hospital.  I changed into my supa sexy hospital issued nightgown and hung out in my bed.  I was given Pitocin at 6:50 a.m. to get things rolling, and my doctor came to check on me soon after.  At this point I was dilated to a 2 and was 80% effaced.  He came back at about 8 a.m. to check on me again and to break my water.  Now there’s a sensation!  I had to have my water broken manually when I was in labor with Evie, too, but I had already had an epidural that time.  This time I was able to feel it which was something I had (oddly?) kind of hoped for.  I just wondered what exactly it felt like.  I’m told it’s different for every woman and for every labor, but for me, this time, it was a HUGE gush of warm liquid flowing out of me.  It also continued to flow out of me during my next three potty visits too.  Wasn’t prepared for that.  Clean up in room 317.

Brant dropped off our wee one with Grandpa and made it to the hospital around 10:30 a.m.  Just in time to watch me get my epidural.  Side note:  I don’t think it’s possible to overstate the awesomeness that is an epidural.  For all you chicks who think it makes you more of a woman to give birth without one I mock you.  And it doesn’t.  Modern medicine is here to take advantage of.  And I feel so absolutely fantastic about doing just that.  That’s enough of that.  Sorry to any offended (sort of).

My epidural was a totally different experience this time around.  Last delivery it was put in easy peasy and I became absolute dead weight soon after.  I didn’t really mind not being able to move my legs at all, but I did feel sorry for the nurses who had to adjust my body for me all night.  This time, the anesthesiologist had a hard time getting it in, but once it was, and had taken effect I realized how different it felt from the previous time.  I was numb much higher on my body.  It was weird and slightly disconcerting initially because it felt as though my belly was slightly numb (which I was NOT prepared for).  On the flip side, I never lost complete use of my legs.  I was able to move them with relative ease, which made me feel like less of a slacker.  Overall I would have to say that despite the initial complications of this go around I preferred the overall epidural experience more this second time.

When I was checked by the nurses at 11:30 a.m. I was dilated to a 5, which I felt decent about.  My doc had told me that getting to a 5 would be the most difficult and time consuming part.  He was right cause after that, things jumped up a notch and I went from a 5 to an 8 in and hour and a half with lots of contractions getting me there.  Not that I noticed them.  Seriously!  Epidurals!  Amaze-balls!

Around 1 p.m. I was dilated to a 9+ but my cervix was still slightly in the way.  Brant had left briefly to grab some lunch, so I called him to have him hurry back since we were told it would probably be a matter of minutes before it was time for me to start pushing.  The nurse came back about fifteen minutes later to check on my cervix.  Still in the way.  She said she’d come back in another twenty.  She did.  She checked.  Same thing.  And this continued on and on for the next hour and a half with Brant cursing (not so quietly) my cervix in the background.

Close to 1:30 the nurse said she’d come back to check me in a few minutes and whether my cervix had cooperated or not we were going to start pushing.  When she checked my again around 1:45 nothing had changed so I was told I was just going to have to push harder to make that pesky and obtrusive cervix of mine a non-factor.  Harder?  Umm…ok.  Awesome.

I started pushing with my two nurses (oh, and just for the record, their names were Pam and Brianne), and felt some actual concern that I was going to do some serious damage to myself.  I pushed so hard I felt dangerously close to popping something.  Popping what?  I’m not sure.  But I don’t think popping of any kind during labor is highly favored. 

Soon Dr. Benham arrived to take over, and I have to say that this is where he became my favorite person in the room (sorry B).  I was struggling so hard to get my little man out of me, and Dr. Benham was so positive about my attempts at pushing that he gave me a new-found sense of physical strength.  I desperately needed someone to tell me that I was, in fact, making progress and that all my efforts weren’t all for naught.  Yay for positive reinforcement!

After about 25 minutes of pushing, straining, grunting, breathing, my beyond awesome baby Cohen entered the world at 3:08 p.m.  He was immediately brought to my chest and I immediately fell in love.  He was then taken to be cleaned up and measured.  And you know you’ve got a big one when one nurse announces his height (22 ½ in.) and every other medical professional in the room simultaneously shout “seriously?!”  I KNEW there was a reason I couldn’t breathe for the last month and a half of my pregnancy.  Umm, and thank heavens he didn’t go full term.  Sweet Moses, that would have been rough(er)!

Large and In Charge!

So there it is.  The birth story.  Are you bored?  Don’t blame me.  No one forced you to read this whole thing.  But if you did, and you’re subsequently reading this, thanks for sharing in one of my most awesome and special days with me.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Our Last Day

Disclaimer: This is yet again a post that contains NO pictures. Blogger can suck it.


I’ve been feeling a bit emotional today knowing that it is the very last day it will be just me and baby girl. I may have cried once today already. Ok, maybe twice. Fine. I’m crying right now for the third time today. I’m going to need you to cut me some slack. I’m knocked up (aka-emotionally fragile) so quit judging me.

Evie will be 2 in just over two weeks which means I’ve been home with her just the two of us for almost two years as well. And cheesy and cliché as it might be, they have absolutely been the most awesome two years of my life! And as ecstatic as I am for the little dude to join us on Monday when I get induced I am going to miss the uninterrupted one-on-one time that Evie and I have gotten to share. And if I’m being completely honest, some of these tears may be due to a massive amount of guilt I’m feeling about shaking up my little one’s entire universe with the new addition we’re about to add to Team Boyer.


On a different and only slightly related topic: I’m giving birth on Monday! Holy shiz balls! And I’m fairly convinced that Mr. Cohen is adamant about outdoing his 7 lb. 5 oz. sister. Feeling a little nervous that I may soon be attempting to shoot out a 17 lb. beast.

Hi is that your nostril? Mind if we shove this pot roast through it? (name the TV show).

Monday, January 30, 2012

Confession

It’s 30 days into January and I am yet to write a blog post (not a confession). That includes not yet having blogged about Christmas or my birthday January 4th for anyone who wanted to send me a belated gift—and by gift, I mean cash (also, not a confession). I will post about those amaze-tacular events (probably), but not today. No, today, I am making a maternal confession that I probably shouldn’t but am hoping that I look back on in 20 years and laugh at.

Confession: There is a small child who is currently residing at the corner of my uterus and bladder. He is 28 weeks old and I am afraid of him. And if he were my first child I don’t think being afraid of him would be anything abnormal or anything I would expect others to judge me about, but he’s not. He’s my second. And everybody knows that by the time you’ve already had one, you should be able to figure the next one out pretty easy-peasy.

My fears are these: Kiddo number one has been so easy and healthy. She’s hardly been sick. Never had an ear infection. Slept through the night by four-weeks-old. She’s pretty much been spectacular since the womb. You know I’m not going to have it that easy with this next one. No one is that lucky.

I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how to be a mom to a newborn. That may seem completely ridiculous because the most awesome kid in the history of life, aka Evie, isn’t even two, yet. So, it’s not like I haven’t already been a newbie’s mom pretty recently. But! That’s exactly where the (irrational?) fear comes from. I’m afraid that I will have forgotten when certain milestones are supposed to happen, when something is normal and when it isn’t, and what I’m supposed to do when the inevitable emergency happens. Everyone is really sweet and quick to dole out advice to a rookie mom, but shouldn’t I (the mother of one already) know this stuff by now?! those well-intentioned moms think to themselves and snicker. The answer is yes I should, and I’m secretly hoping that it’ll all come back to me once the little dude is here. But who knows.

Oh, Natalie, you are thinking to yourself as you read this. Of course it’ll all come back to you. You’ll do great.

Lovely thoughts. And maybe you’re right. But my ultimate fear and the pinnacle of this confession is that I am most afraid of how hard it is to have a newborn. The first time around everyone tells you how difficult it is to wake up for all those nighttime feedings, but the dreamy-eyed first time mom is too excited about the prospect of being a mom—of having a baby of her very own—to worry too much about it. And let’s face it, you don’t really know just how hard it is until you’ve lived it.

But that’s just the thing. I have lived it. This time around I really do know just how hard it’s going to be. And there’s no “sleeping when the baby sleeps” this time since I’ve got a toddler who will be demanding my attention.

So that’s it. My confession as a soon-to-be-mother-of-two. I’m nervous.

But.

I am also completely in love with this boy I haven’t even met yet. He terrifies me, and I can’t wait to meet him.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Secret Santa

It's after 11 pm and I've got an emergency dentist appointment at 8 am tomorrow morning, so the last thing I should be doing right now is writing a new blog post, but I HAD to write about tonight while it still is tonight.

Just after we had put Evie down for bed and were getting ready to start a movie Brant and I heard a knock at our door. We were both a bit confused as we get very few unexpected visitors, and NEVER get them at 9 o'clock at night. Brant threw on a sweatshirt and went to the door to answer it. There was no one outside, but there was a gift bag sitting on our porch. We removed the tissue paper from the bag to find a roll of Nestle chocolate chip cookie dough and a note. Upon first seeing the cookie dough I assumed it had been left by a visiting teacher or neighbor (though the latter is unlikely as our neighbors are all 90+ and wouldn't have been able to run away from our door unseen).

We opened the note which read:


It never hurts to
have A Little Extra
"DOUGH"
At Christmas
time!

Happy Holiday!


We then found an envelope in the bag and opened it to find $83 of cash inside. We both looked at each other in complete shock! Neither of us have any clue as to who would have left this on our doorstep. Brant then went outside (in socks) to go find our Secret Santa(s?) but came in after five minutes of searching and me telling him that they probably meant for it to be a secret.

To our Secret Santa: you have no idea how much your love, kindness and generosity meant to me tonight. Your selfless good deed answered prayers I'm sure you had no idea you were answering. Even as I type this I have to continually stop to wipe the tears that are streaming down my face. Thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Friday, December 2, 2011

Evie the Fabulous

My baby bear, Evie, is 18 months old now (and thirty-two days, but I originally drafted this post about one month ago). Since this blog is supposed to be a substitute of sorts for a journal I am taking it upon myself to write down a few of the things Evie does--right now--that make her so ridiculously awesome.

Evie the Fabulous: 1 1/2 years old
  • At her 18-month well visit my girl (who measured in the 50th percentile in both height and weight at her one year visit) had skyrocketed to 33 inches tall (95%) and 27.8 lbs. (106%!).
  • She has ten teeth. Six on the top, four on the bottom.
  • Best kisses ever!--big, sloppy, wet, open-mouthed, and pretty much the best things in the world. Ask for a kiss and she'll come at you with her little mouth open as far as it can, and her tongue sticking out. If she's too busy, she'll still oblige but then her kisses are quick, tight-lipped ones that she gives without ever making eye contact.
  • She has started twirling. Randomly she begins doing 360's around the room, then falls over when she gets dizzy.
  • Sometime in the last two weeks, she apparently decided she needed to tone up because she has started doing toe touches. Up, down, and REPEAT.
  • She is miss Chatty Cathy--minus the actual words. Evie is crazy verbal. She's always talking, but the only real words she says are mom, dad, dog, shoe, hot, cute, look [at] that and uh-oh. She also gives the occasional "love you" but she's a bit stingy with that one. In the last couple of weeks, however, she has started to repeat more and more of what she hears. I say cracker--she says cracker, but only if I say it.
  • The Dancing Queen!!! She dances ANY and EVERY time she hears music. It doesn't matter if we're in the car, at church, listening to Rhapsody on the computer, or if music is on a commercial on TV. The chick dances!
  • More. More. MORE. This little one learned the sign for "more" along time ago, but she has started to use it now to let us know that she's hungry for something. She apparently adapted ASL to suit her own needs. The family thinks it's ADORABLE every time she does it, but Mom and Dad have seen it enough that the cuteness has worn off (a little, anyway).

I love my little baby bear more than I can stand. She is squishy, squeezy, and oh, so cute! Love this kiddo to the moon!

Monday, November 21, 2011

Check Me Out: I'm Crafty

I finally finished my overhaul of Evie's two dressers. And I've got to be honest--they look pretty damn cute.

I am not crafty by any stretch of the imagination. I am a stay-at-home mom with Internet access, though, and I felt inspired by the many, many, MANY revamps I've seen on various blogs of various furniture items. I started out with two old, brown dressers that used to belong to my Granny Pectol (GP are ya wit me?!).



I forgot to take a "before" shot of the second, tall dresser but rest assured it looked almost identical to the other one. Now, I know what you must be thinking. Natalie, that dresser is beyond spectacular as is. How on Earth did you get so lucky as to find a dresser that boasts such a sassy color of brown veneer and ornate gold(ish) handles? How can you mess with such perfection? What can I say? I'm a gamblin' man.

Anyhoo, I once saw on a blog a dresser that had been repainted and finished by mod-podging scrapbook paper on the top. I figured, if that chick could mod-podge the top, why couldn't I mod-podge the dresser fronts. And that is precisely what I did. Behold the finished product...


I'm sure there are other chicks out there who could have done more impressive things with these two old dressers, but that's okay. I'm pretty tickled with how these turned out!

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Happy Halloween



Happy Halloween! We had an easy peasy Halloween holiday this year since little one is still to small to care about it. Miss Evie dressed up as the cutest Eeyore in the history of life. Brant and I wanted to dress up in theme with her, so the plan was for me to go as Christopher Robin and Brant to go as Tigger. Easier said than done. I had my costume ready to go, but (word to the wise) finding orange sweats is all but impossible. I officially exhausted every search engine known to man trying to find an orange-hued top and bottom for my honey, but to no avail.
So....we scrapped the whole idea, and opted not to dress up at all. Costumes for adults are ridiculously expensive and we'd had our hearts set on our Hundred Acre themed ensembles anyway. However, in the grand Boyer tradition, we felt like weenies at the last minute for not dressing up and came up with some costumes on the fly...Elders Cheech and Chong. Easy peasy and 100% free!

We only went trick or treating to Grandma and Grandpa Boyer's and Grandma and Grandpa Ruesch's, but still had a blast. All the grandparents made a fuss over how cute Evie looked, and isn't that what Halloween is really about--proving your kid is cuter than someone else's? I'm glad you agree.