godliness.

This has been an interesting semester and while, technically, I still have some more things to finish up, it is almost finished. Today was the last day of classes and I have three finals next week.

Just about there.

I have enjoyed my classes a lot more than I thought I was going to. Actually, this whole semester has turned out better than I thought it was going to. I was so unsure about even going back to school after having Emmaline. I was sad about leaving her all day (even if it was just with Patrick). I didn't know if I could handle being a Mom, keeping the house, and taking 15 hours. I wasn't sure how much more I had left to graduate, what requirements I needed to fulfill, what tests I needed to take, etc. I was scared about getting my work done but having enough time to spend with my daughter. I was worried about neglecting Patrick.

But honestly, everything has worked out really well. I am so grateful Patrick and I were able to stagger our schedules so that we could both go to school full time but Emmaline would always be home with one of us. I just could not do daycare. I am not in any way bashing it, by the way! I am just so uptight and anxious I literally don't think my health could stand me leaving her (as insane as that sounds... Did I just admit that for the world to see?) I trust Patrick with everything I have and I still get nervous leaving her. Hell, I worry about her when she's sitting right in front of me. So, this was the best way to ease me back into school.

My classes were challenging enough to keep my attention but not so hard I was drowning in work. I learned that if I take 18 hours in the Spring (eek!) and 2 Summer classes followed by my Fall semester of student teaching, I will be graduating a semester earlier than I thought I would be! So that's the plan for now.

One thing I noticed, which I don't know if it's a coincidence or forced, but a lot of what I learned this semester has really made me go home and think about my own life. One class in particular really got to me. I just finished up a Women and the Law class which deals, basically, with how the Constitution treats Women's Rights in the United States. We talked about a lot of things ranging from sexual harassment in the workplace, to domestic violence, to prostitution, to abortion. My professor would give us these statistics and then we would learn about real people and their real cases. And I always flashed back to my daughter.

I have a huge responsibility.

Because somewhere along the way, these poor women I was learning about, they got lost. Someone let them down. We learned about 11-year old prostitutes. I read cases of women who felt they had to perform sexual acts to keep their jobs. We had to learn the history and rationalization for abortion and why teenagers shouldn't have to tell their parents. Every day I heard story after story after story of just heartbreaking stuff that I was so lucky I never had to deal with in my life and I want to protect my daughter from as well. And I would get panicky because I've got to teach Emmaline today that she is worth something, that she is loved, that she is important and special and beautiful and God's special gift.

I guess I just wondered how that happens -- how these girls get forgotten. When I got home from class today and I saw my beautiful girl smiling up at me when I walked in the door, my heart just oozed with all the love I have for her. Every day it multiplies. I can't explain it. My mind couldn't compose an eloquent or articulate enough sentence for someone to understand how much that little girl means to me. And I just don't think I could ever stop feeling this way for her.

I want to be the best Mommy I can be to Emmaline. I really do. I just pray that what Patrick and I are doing is Right and Good because we have this huge job ahead of us to grow her into a Godly young woman. And, I don't know, you just look at this perfect baby who is sinless and innocent and you don't want anything bad to ever happen to her. I know I can't protect her from everything in the big bad world. But I want to do my best to prepare her for what's out there.

finally.

Well, it has been a while since I have gotten around to writing on here. I completely bailed on that 30-Day Challenge. Turns out the topics were horrifically boring to write about. Anyway, I am back and ready to entertain the masses. I totally kind of got this idea from my sweet friend, Sarah, and have been mulling over it for a few days.

Hope she doesn't mind the plug. She may be inundated with visitors since I am known for my high traffic. hehe. jk.

Anyway, it is so funny how when we first bring home these babies we look at them and think, "Ok, now what?!" We have read, and researched, and googled, and prayed, and interviewed, and practiced, and just about everything a future parent thinks of to prepare for their baby. And then it comes. And you're scared to death! Well, at least I was anyway.

I remember being terrified she wasn't eating enough. Then scared she wasn't warm enough. Then worried about taking her out all by myself. And on and on and on. Now I am a pro at all of those things. I am an expert.*

*Disclaimer: Expert at being a Mom to 7 1/2 month old Emmaline.

Hindsight is always 20/20 and my baby is completely different from yours and from any future ones I may have. However, I decided to gather up some of my "vast" knowledge from the past 7 months because 1] I really do feel like I have come so far, 2] I always LOVE getting feedback from my other Mommy friends and 3] things are so amazing right now, this is almost my cheesy "Thanks"giving blog. Almost...

The "Good's" in my life

Good Tips, Good Equipment, etc

• Mommy Friends: Seriously. Out of nowhere, a bunch of us got pregnant around the same time and it was such a blessing to have other women to bounce ideas off of. They were amazing for support, ideas, advice, laughter, and just to talk to! I have gone out with some Mommy friends and trust me, no one understands the trials and tribulations of traveling with an infant like another Mommy :) I love looking at pictures of their babies and hearing about their milestones. We share tips on sales on diapers and baby food. Another thing I like is that as many of us as there are, we all raise our babies different too and we all respect that. No one judges. We don't go off if someone isn't breastfeeding or if someone uses a paci or goes back to work or wants to make their own baby food. We share our stories and discuss the pros and cons and it really is great. I love my Mommy friends!
• BabyLegs: One of my favorite finds for Emmaline. I love putting these on her when she's playing around the house. Pop on a onesie and a cute pair of leg warmers and you're good to go! Baby stays warm, no rug burns, and it makes diaper changes easy too!
• Tommee Tippee: Best bottles! Emmaline was so picky when it came to her bottles. She got used to the special needs feeder they gave her at the hospital and then once she outgrew 45 oz. we had to go scrambling for something she would drink out of. We found these and love them! And now we are working on using their sippee cups too. I hope she likes them!
• BabySteals.com: Such a fun way to save some money! Twice a day - at 10a and 10p central, they have one different product available for a "steal" usually at least 50% off. They are usually also luxury items made of high quality material. Ooohlala. It's fun waiting to see every day what the steal-of-the-day is going to be. I haven't bought but one or two things off of there mostly because Emmaline doesn't really need much but they have incredibly fast shipping. It's from Utah and I think it only took a day!
• Dr. Derek Johnson: We love our pediatrician. We didn't go about picking him out the "right" way. I know you're supposed to research and ask friends and interview potential doctors. But Emmaline came almost 5 1/2 weeks early so I wasn't really to that point yet. He was the pediatrician on staff at the hospital the morning she was born so I just found his office when we were discharged and made an appointment. When Patrick and I went to see him, we both knew he was "the one." haha. He was this huge black guy and picked up our tiny 5 lb baby and cooed at her and played with her like no one was looking. It was adorable. He was straightforward. He didn't beat around the bush at all. He made fun of my list of questions. What sealed the deal? He knew what Patrick's Triumph shirt meant (It's a motorcycle company) because he rides too. Patrick probably wanted to date him. Basically, we felt so comfortable with him. Also, his nurses are GREAT! They are so wonderful with Emmaline. They make the whole shots thing as quick and painless as it can possible be and they have the best attitudes!
• Swing: Eeeek, Emmaline sleeps like a champ at night in her crib but she will not nap during the day unless she is napping with Mamma on the couch or in her swing! So thank goodness her Granny and Miyagi got this for her!
• Pictures: I won't even attempt to find a page for my camera because it's so ancient but it gets the job done. I am trying to remember to take a million pictures because you have to admit, she's awfully cute. I like to try and capture everything. I might try too hard. But I just know we're going to forget all these little things, and perhaps even some of the big things too, and that makes me so sad. I want to remember how very happy we all were right now and how beautiful and perfect she always is.
• Reading/Talking: I try to read to Emmaline as much as I can but I know I could be better about it. We signed her up for the Dolly Parton Imagination Library so Emmaline gets a free book every month until she turns 5. How amazing is that? Every parent in TN needs to do this for their baby! Anyway, I know she loves when her Daddy reads to her because of his deep voice. She's always loved it - even when she was in my belly still. But I also talk to her all day long, constantly. I know this is good for her because we've talked about it in some of my education classes. It just helps the child understand language as a whole better: rhythm, inflection, facial expressions, etc. And if you've been around her, you know she loves to yak!
• Friends: We have a great group of friends. They have supported Patrick and me throughout this whole pregnancy and if they every judged us or were disappointed, they never let it show. They never lectured us or turned their backs on us. They love Emmaline to pieces and shower her with attention. Whenever someone comes over, I think Patrick and I barely get a hi before they're down on the floor playing with her. This means so much to me. When you love my baby and show my baby affection, you are loving me. My friends give me "adult time" (though I sometimes question how much more mature they are than Emmaline, haha) when I am only around a baby for so long. My best friend, Emily, makes me feel like a queen. I can't explain it. She just loves me so much. And Jane and Meredith are such cute little girly-girls. Love them!
• Patrick: Probably the most important thing on this earth right now in helping me get through every day. Where do I even begin? Every woman needs their own version of a Patrick. Every wife needs one. Every Mom needs one. I couldn't even imagine going at this alone. Yeah, sometimes he gets lazy and sometimes he walks by wrappers on the floor and doesn't pick them and he always (probably 'til the day he dies) leaves his black socks balled up next to bed... where was I going? Oh right. But honestly, I could not ask for a better man. He is the best father to Emmaline. He adores her. And she loves him. When she sees him coming in for a kiss, she just starts smiling so big. He gets excited when she learns new things. He likes seeing her in a new big girl outfit. He actually cares. I see these girls on 16 & Pregnant and I think, "How on earth do you do it?" There is no way. I need him. I do. He helps with the dishes. He helps fold laundry. Every Tuesday and Thursday while I am at school, he watches Emmaline until 4:30p completely by himself. If it weren't for him, I would have had to have dropped out of school but he is making sure I get to finish. Love him!

I think there is more I wanted to say but I am suddenly exhausted and tomorrow is going to bed a long day that starts early! Cannot wait to see my family! Happy gobble-gobble day.

day 3

Your views on drugs and alcohol.

Ok, this is a good one, I guess.

For a long time, I think I felt like I was different because of how I felt about alcohol. I don't think it's a bad thing. I don't think it's a sin to drink it. I totally believe you can be a Christian and have a beer. Or even two. However, when I was in college, my friends didn't have a beer (or two). They went to parties with the sole intent of getting drunk. I knew this and they knew this. And it annoyed me and I wanted to avoid it. And for some reason that annoyed them. In my head I told myself it was because it made them look bad that someone their age was able to refuse it, to not give in to the pressure, to have a good time without the alcohol. I was never preachy about it. I didn't push myself on people. I just didn't go to the parties. If you know something is going to consist of things you don't like, why go? That would be dumb. But I know for a fact I was talked about for not liking the whole "getting drunk" atmosphere and that, to me, is so lame. I really think they should have found something else to not like me for.

For me, the real offense, the worst thing you can do, is drive impaired. You want to look stupid and sloppy and get drunk and make poor choices? Fine. Go ahead. But the second you get behind the wheel you stop running the chances of just ruining your life but also of anyone else who might also be on the road with you. And that's a really scary thing. I know so many people (after the fact of course, because I would have so called the cops on them. I don't even care how nerdy or lame it makes me look) who have driven after drinking and I can't understand why. The consequences are so severe it's shocking to me that any sane person who even consider it for a second. But then again, they're not in the right frame of mind. But it still surprises me that the next morning they aren't like, "whoa, maybe I shouldn't have done that. I'm gonna be a little more careful next time." Think about it. You could: get in an accident and wreck your car (what a hassle that would be!), get in an accident and really hurt yourself, like paralyzation (and you'd have to deal it for the rest of your life), get in a wreck and kill yourself (and leave a lot of people grieving and pissed off) or get in a wreck and not even hurt yourself at all... but kill someone else (and get to go to jail for manslaughter!). Or you might not even wreck at all and just simply get caught driving. Do you know how horrible a DUI looks? And how expensive they are? It just terrifies me because I know WAY too many people do it. I am thankful that Emmaline's bedtime is so early and we rarely (if ever) have her out on the roads after 7p because this is a college town and I know there are stupid kids out there testing the limits. I hold my breath every night Patrick works late when I know he's leaving the campus until I hear him come in the house too.

Drugs are a completely different story. Stupid. No excuse. No reason. No need. They're illegal, harmful, and dirty. They make people do stupid, gross things. They ruin lives. They ruin families. They ruin economies. They ruin countries. And I really don't think too many people would argue about this. I mean, look at an heroin or meth addict and I don't think you can come up with too many pros for the addiction column. It just sucks. I like to watch the show "Intervention" sometimes (well, when I had cable) and it's insane how these drugs (and alcohol!) take over people's lives. It doesn't matter what's put in front of them - parents, their kids, jobs, homes, their little ol' grannies - they will just keep taking these things that they admit are killing them and they cry saying they want off of. One girl was interviewing on the camera, went into some crack house, had sex with a dealer for drugs, and then came out like it wasn't a big deal. Can you even imagine living like that?

And I'll go ahead and include weed in this too. I know there are a ton of hippies out there who would love to jump all over me and say it's just a plant, it's just like alcohol, it's not the same as cocaine or speed, blah, blah, blah. But the truth is, it is a drug. It does alter your state of mind. You do become addicted (no matter what users say!). And it changes your brain the more you use it. i became convinced that it was a little more dangerous than the hippies would have us believe after talking to someone very close to me who used it for a while. And he was definitely someone I would expect to tell me to chill out, that it wasn't a big deal. But he said that it completely changed him. He lost his motivation. It made him lazy and fat. He didn't want to do anything but lay around and eat. He did get addicted to it. So, I even think pot is dangerous. And I think there are definite liabilities with "legalizing" it. Firstly, I don't see the need. I think it's ridiculous. There's too much evidence that shows it's not healthy. Secondly, are there going to be age limits? Like cigarettes? Thirdly, will they regulate so people won't smoke and drive? How will they tell people aren't smoking a cigarette versus pot? Things to think about...

medicine.

Well, I am going to interrupt the 30-day Challenge to talk about something else. Forgive me? Thanks.

I recently went to my doctor to get some prescriptions refilled. They were just the general ones for my asthma and things like that. I am also taking a medication called Treximet which is for my migraines and it has done extremely well for me. The only drawback is, I can only take it once I know I am getting a migraine. For me, I get a headache just about every day. It's made harder by the fact that my insurance will only pay for 9 pills at a time. As it is, with two insurance companies, I still pay $40 for those 9 pills. But I really can't complain because those same 9 pills actually cost $266.19. Isn't that insane?

I understand (somewhat) why they're so expensive; they work. It takes about 45 minutes to an hour but I usually feel some relief. It's a weird feeling. My neck, shoulders, and arms get very weak but I would take just about anything over the pain and nausea migraines bring.

Anyway, we were talking about how often I was taking the Treximet and I said about twice a week. Apparently, this was too often. She asked me if anyone has ever tried to get me on a preventative medication. And the truth is that no one has. I've been on several medications that treat migraines at the onset (Relpax, Imitrex, etc) but even if these things work (which only the Treximet has) there is still a huge problem when I'm having a headache every day. She couldn't believe I was getting one every day. She asked me how long this had been going on. I told her years.

We discussed some options for trying to prevent how often they happen. We finally came up with trying Topamax. It's a medication you take every day to (hopefully) cut down on the number of headaches you get. Some people take the medicine for epilepsy and seizures. She said it will take about 6 to 8 weeks for the medicine to build up in my body and alter my brain enough to see if there will be a difference.

I am nervous. I don't want to get my hopes up in case it doesn't work but I can't help but fantasize about a life without the pain of a near-daily headache, to not have to worry about carrying around all my medication, to not have to be anxious if plans will be have to be canceled yet again because I'm sick, to not have to scramble to find someone to take care of Emmaline because I can't do it, to not have to come up with the money for Treximet...

There are some kind of scary side effects that had me question whether it was worth taking the medicine. The one that bothered me the most was the cognitive problems - memory loss, problems with word recall, etc - because I already have a lot of problems with that stuff. I will be talking to Patrick and I will just forget the most mundane and ordinary words. It's so frustrating. So the thought of that becoming worse is scary. Plus, I really need all the brain power I can muster to be successful in college. Also, hair loss was another one. I know, I know. I have a ton of hair. Well, had a ton of hair. After I stopped nursing Emmaline, as often happens with women, a bunch of my hair fell out and it totally freaked me out. I am so used to having a poofy helmet of dark brown hair that when it started thinning I didn't know what to do. It is starting to grow back but hair loss is weird. There are also some people who complain of being in a fog, dizzy, passing out, having tingling hands and feet... agh. But I know there are all kinds of side effects with any medication. And if this truly stops my migraines, or even helps me to only have one a month, then I will be really happy.

So, I just wanted to give this update. Despite trying not to... I am kind of excited. I hope it works. I pray it does. It could be a life changer.

day 2

Where I would Like to be in 10 Years

Hmm. Graduated? That would be nice. Hopefully that will have happened and I will be working, successfully and happily, as a high school history teacher somewhere here in Tennessee. Maybe Williamson County? Hey, a girl can dream, right?

I will be the Mommy of a 10-year old Emmaline (WHAT?!) which absolutely blows my mind. I wonder what kind of little girl she is going to be. I can't wait to discover her little personality - all her likes, dislikes, fears, dreams... And we will hopefully have more children by then, too. And maybe we will finally get a little boy on the Womac side!

I hope that Patrick has gotten his law degree (if that's still what he wants to do by then) and he is working, successfully and happily, in some law firm. I hope he's making enough money that we don't have to worry and stress about money but not so much that it becomes too important.

I hope we have a house. I want Emmaline and any future Womac babies to have a yard and a swing set and sidewalks to ride their bikes. I want them to have their own little rooms that we decorate together.

I hope we are a happy family. I hope we are busy (ballet, soccer, homework, church, t-ball, piano, etc!) but organized. I hope we laugh a lot and love even more. I hope we always make time to play with our babies. I hope Patrick and I still have our date nights and hold hands.

I hope I am better at sewing and that my kids let me do crafts with them. I hope they won't be embarrassed if Mom wants to make their Halloween costumes because I really can't see myself forking over $35 for a cheap nylon costume that will only be used one night.

I hope we are active and involved in a church. I hope they have something for all of us - a good child's department, nursery, and adult Bible study classes. Maybe they will even have little activities we can bring the kids to like movie or park outings. I so look forward to my babies coming home with their glittery messes that they made for us in Sunday School.

But more than anything else, I hope we are a family still. I hope that I have done the best I can to raise good, honest, happy children. I hope that I have done everything I can to be faithful to Patrick and serve him as a wife as best I can. I just hope there is a lot of laughing and cuddling because I could never get tired of that.

day 1

Current Relationship

Wow, what a way to start this off. This might the hardest one for me to write because I just don't even know where to start. Maybe the beginning?

Mamma always told me that I would find the perfect guy when I was least expecting it. I think most parents say something along those lines as some point. Well, as it often goes, she was right. When I started MTSU in the Spring semester of 2009, the last thing on my mind was boys. I had pretty recently gotten out of a relationship which was not only dramatic and wore me out, but it was also violent. And it's embarrassing and heart-breaking to admit but true. He also cheated on me. But I didn't realize that part until he got married 2 months after we broke up.

After that ended and I moved back to TN, I spent the whole month of December reflecting on my life. There were things about myself I was really proud of. I had moved to GA, gotten a really great job, made great money and had my own place. I paid all my own bills and was taking care of myself almost completely. But there were way more things that were hurting me, haunting me, stressing me out. I was embarrassed and mad at myself that I never finished college. I was mad I had spent so much time away from my sisters. I was horrified at what I had let happen between me and my ex-boyfriend. How did things get so bad? How did I get to a point where I let another person treat me like that?

I thank (THANK!) my parents for everything they had to do to get me into school that January. We had mere weeks to get money, applications, transcripts, phone calls, visits, etc (!!!) done to make sure I had classes I could take. And, to make things even more difficult, it was the holiday so a lot of things got put on hold simply because offices were closed. Eventually everything worked out and I was living on campus and ready to finish up this whole college thing. I was so excited to put the last two years behind me and concentrate on ME and getting my degree. I pep talked to myself extensively those first few weeks. I was going to dive into schoolwork 100% and I wasn't even going to think about boys. It honestly wasn't that hard because I was burnt out on love. I remember getting dressed that first day of classes and thinking that I honestly felt pretty for me - not for any boy.

Enter fate.

My first class on my first day of my first semester at MTSU was American Government. I got there early and I tried really hard to make friends with the people around me. (That was something I regretted about Belmont - that I never really tried hard to get to know many people.) There were some nice people and a couple quiet people. There was one weird kid who kept talking about anarchy and I made a note to not sit near him. I went in and picked out my seat and got ready to learn. And we had class. And that was it.

And I went to class every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

After a week or two, I noticed this boy who sat in front of me. He wasn't hard to miss. He had really long, curly hair and I wasn't exactly sure what style he was going for. It was odd though that he had such bad hair because he always dressed really nicely for class. That stood out to me because it was an early morning class (9:10a) and most people didn't even show up at all more or less show up in button down shirts and loafers. He didn't look nerdy - just nice. He sat in front of me and over one seat and he was constantly turning around to talk to me before class started. It was usually something stupid. Like, really stupid. I could tell he thought he was funny but it wasn't and it make me feel really awkward. But he was nice.

Lo and behold, I get a friend invite on fbook. I didn't know who it was. "Patrick Adam Womac"? I clicked on the name and the profile picture was a blown up cell phone picture (ie. highly pixelated) of some dark skinned boy standing next to a life-size lobster. What the heck? Then is dawned on me that it was the goofy boy in American Gov. "Great," I thought. "He knows my name."

So, naturally I went snooping. I found a "Note" he had written on there called "25 things" and you just had to write 25 facts about yourself. His number 7 was "I once fell through a roof and came away unscafed." I thought this was so funny so I commented on how he probably meant "unscathed" since "unscafed" is not a word. But there was something about his list that caught my eye. Maybe it was his number 25? "If gentlemen prefer blondes then I can never be a gentleman because I like brunettes best."

Anyway, he eventually fbook chatted me and we talked for a few minutes. The chat ended with him listing the 10 hottest actresses he knows. haha, I know, so endearing. Like I really wanted to hear all of that? But when he got done, he said something charming about them all having dark skin, light eyes, and brown hair and that's what he likes best. He was laying it on pretty thick. Eeek! I had to run away! NO boys, remember?

So, obviously, I invited him over to watch a movie. Haha, and he basically hasn't left since.

I don't know how this works so well or why I could have ever been so lucky. I don't know why things have succeeded amazingly well when EVERYTHING screamed, "This is a disaster waiting to happen! Leave! Run!" such as:
- He was only 19 and I was 23. Um... talk about an age gap. But not only that, a life experience gap. There were so many things I had done in life (get a job, have bank account, live on my own, vote, file my own taxes etc) that he had never done before.
- He had never had a girlfriend before. Not only was I trying to avoid boys but if I was going to make an exception, did I want to do it for someone who had NO idea what they were doing?
- I wasn't looking for a boyfriend! Not only that, I was purposely avoiding boys altogether!

But the thing about it was, we spent every waking moment together we could and most sleeping moments too. We did everything together and I never got tired of him. I never needed a break. I missed him like crazy when he had to go do other things. It wasn't an obsession thing.I got along just fine when he wasn't there. It was just that I 100% preferred that he was. And slowly, before I knew what had even happened, I fell in love with him. And he fell in love with me too.

Seeing him now, I can't imagine that I ever was alive and not his partner. I don't care if this makes me look anti-feminist or desperate or clingy or cliche... He is my other half. He makes me whole. He is my best friend before anything else and my lover right on top of that. We agree on our outlook on life: religion, family, politics, money. We have our differences in beliefs and personality but they complement each other (not compete with each other!). Being an adult and being in a relationship is never "easy" but I can honestly say that loving Patrick is never hard. I have never been in a relationship where I didn't have to fight for attention or love. We don't have to play mind or jealousy games. I don't pout when he can't read my mind and he doesn't ditch me to go hang with his buddies. We genuinely want to be with each other.

I don't know how to explain it but I know how being with him makes me feel. I feel secure, loved, taken care of, peaceful, calm, and relaxed. I'm happy. Anyone who has known me for a while knows how I can be at times. I am uptight. I am anal-retentive. I am bossy. I get stressed out easily. I get my feelings hurt easily. I am not confident. I am stubborn. Patrick has made all of those things unnecessary. I still want the house perfect but he actually helps me clean so it's not a burden on me. I am still bossy but he has helped show me that he is the man of the house and big decisions are ultimately his (because he will always make them with me and Emmaline's best interests in mind!). I am still stubborn but he is so patient and understanding. I still get stressed out but he is one of the most calming people I know. All of those things have slowly faded since being with him.

Probably the thing I love most about Patrick is how good of a Dad he is. He is amazing. He loves me and Emmaline with everything he has. He plays with her, he bathes her, he feeds her, he dresses her... everything! The first thing he said when she was born was "She's so cute!" and that absolutely melted me. When she was little, he got up with her in the middle of nights with me. If he goes somewhere, he wants me and Em to go with him. He doesn't look at her as dragging him down or keeping him from doing anything. He's crazy about her. And she loves him so much.

I know we didn't do things in necessarily the "right" order and I do wish we had so I could be a better example to my sisters and Emmaline one day. But, we are the lucky ones. We love each other, truly. We love Emmaline. We have wonderful families who support our relationship and love our daughter. And we are getting married in February! I cannot wait to call Patrick my husband. I get butterflies just imagining saying it! I don't know why God decided I was good enough to get Patrick but He gave him to me anyway and I promise to always take care of this special gift.

challenge.

I saw this on my good friend's tumblr site and I thought it looked fun to do. If nothing else, it would encourage me to get on here and write more often.

30-Day Challenge

Day 01 - Your current relationship, if single discuss how single life is.

Day 02 - Where you’d like to be in 10 years.

Day 03 - Your views on drugs and alcohol.

Day 04 - Your views on religion.

Day 05 - A time you thought about ending your own life.

Day 06 - Write 30 interesting facts about yourself.

Day 07 - Your zodiac sign and if you think it fits your personality.

Day 08 - A moment you felt the most satisfied with your life.

Day 09 - How you hope your future will be like.

Day 10 - Discuss your first love and first kiss.

Day 11 - Put your ipod on shuffle and write 10 songs that pop up.

Day 12 - Bullet your whole day.

Day 13 - Somewhere you’d like to move or visit.

Day 14 - Your earliest memory.

Day 15 - Your favorite bogs.

Day 16 - Your views on mainstream music.

Day 17 - Your highs and lows of this past year.

Day 18 - Your beliefs.

Day 19 - Disrespecting your parents.

Day 20 - How important you think education is.

Day 21 - One of your favorite shows.

Day 22 - How have you changed in the past 2 years?

Day 23 - Give pictures of 5 guys who are famous who you find attractive.

Day 24 - Your favorite movie and what it’s about.

Day 25 - Someone who fascinates you and why.

Day 26 - What kind of person attracts you.

Day 27 - A problem that you have had.

Day 28 - Something that you miss.

Day 29 - Goals for the next 30 days.

Day 30 - Your highs and lows of this month

distractions.

Is it any wonder I find it dang near impossible to get homework done when she's awake? How could anyone expect me to concentrate on Constitutional Nationalism in Berlin when this ball of cuteness and noise is vying for my attention?

She's the cutest distraction I ever did meet...

uncle aaron.

Emmaline loves her Uncle Aaron :) Forevs.


Here she is reppin' for his former learning institution.







And here she is playing with Big Blue Bear that Uncle Aaron and Elise got her. She LOVES him!!

big.

My baby is growing and it's... good, I guess. Good in that she is learning and developing and becoming a smart little girl. But bad because it makes me a little sad to know my little baby is fading.

We took Emmaline to the park because I've been dying to get her into a swing. Patrick really dragged his feet about the whole thing because he (and I quote) "doesn't like parks." Who doesn't like parks? haha. Anyway, I talked him into it and we ended up having a really great time. The park is on the site of an old Union fort from the Civil War so in addition to the playground (and lots of other nice amenities, I might add) they have some awesome trails through the woods with signs and artifacts from the war. Um, yes! Patrick and I took Em in her stroller for a long, brisk walk and it was so much fun. Sweet baby even fell asleep during her ride.

Anyway, I got some video of Em in her first swing ride! She wasn't so sure at first but then she kinda warmed up to it.

yeck.

What.a.day.

I have no idea what the deal was but Emmaline was NOT a happy camper today.

Happy Camper ≠ Emmaline

She has never whined so much, spit up so much, fought sleep so hard, or been so moody. Off day? Maybe. Difficult? Definitely.

It's so hard when they can't tell you what's wrong or bothering them but the more time I spend with her, the better I am able to know what's wrong. I know it was a mixture of impending teefers and several missed naps. But that sure didn't make dealing with her any easier! Poor baby. I tried and tried and just couldn't pacify her. Guess Mommy lovings weren't enough today.

Other than Em practicing her moody, dramatic 'tude for her teen years, the day was pretty good. I got to have lunch with two of my favorite girls, Jane and Mere. I got some errands done. And then my brother (!!) came over with his girlfriend (!!) to hang out and have dinner. It was such a nice treat because with each of them in school full-time in other cities, we don't get to spend a lot of time together. I felt bad Em wasn't herself today because she really is a lot of fun. She loves to play with her toys and talk and get kisses. But all she really did today when they were here was cry and puke up milkies and squash...

Well, homework calls. Yells, actually. And although I don't want to answer, I must.

life.

I know this is much, much heavier than any post I have ever written. But for some reason, I just feel compelled to write about this. It's something that is currently bothering me, has bothered me for some time, and writing generally has a way of sorting my feelings out for me and helping me feel a little better when I'm upset.

I am currently in a Women and the Law class which, unbeknownst to me when I signed up for it, is really a lot like a feminist class. It's ok though because it is my first political science class that has really dealt with specific laws, cases, and rulings. I like being presented a case, real or fictional, and deciding what the Supreme Court did or should have decided. It's fun to me to try and figure out what parts of a case are important and how to best apply a law.

Sometimes, though, it can get annoying when the ardent feminists in the class spout off about how some situation is "evidence of a patriarchal society" or how men won't be happy until we're all pregnant, uneducated and stuck at home, or some other nonsense. I do get where they are coming from. I mean, women were the last group of people in America to be given citizenship status and the right to vote. Think about it; black people, who at one point weren't even considered human but rather property, were given the right to vote a full 60 years before women. The Supreme Court of the United States actually had rulings that stated blacks could not be considered "free" if they had lived in a free state and then moved to a slave state because they were property and property could not have rights! Seriously! And they were eventually given many rights before women. So, yes, I do think women have been greatly disenfranchised throughout our history. But I am also the type of woman who is not unhappy about staying home and keeping a house while my husband provides for us. This doesn't bother me. I'm not against my chair being pulled out or the door being held open for me.

To each their own. Feminism, to me, is having the right and ability to choose what works best for you as a woman.

Anyway, I promise I am getting to my point...

I am tired of being pulled into a movement I do not stand for. I am tired of being spoken for when I have my own voice and my own opinion on the matter. I am talking about abortion and how this, somehow, has been twisted in a "women's rights" issue. I know that if someone is pro-choice, there is very little, if anything, I could say to change their mind or sway their opinion. I wish I could say I didn't care but that just isn't so. I deeply, deeply wish I could find a way to change people's hearts and get them to understand the issue the way I do. It is to a point where I feel physical pain thinking about this cause. It literally hurts me. I think the worst part about the whole thing is each side so passionately believes that he is right and correct. It is damn near impossible for me to even try and get my mind to attempt to rationalize abortion. Sometimes the best way to speak to someone is to imagine yourself as them - get into their frame of mind. I just literally cannot even try to understand how a person could be ok with abortion. I can't understand. It's like when you try to imagine what could motivate someone to molest a child or commit cannibalism; it is so far removed from anything I feel, think, or believe that I cannot switch gears.

I know essentially the issue at hand is whether one believes life begins at conception, birth, or somewhere in between. If this could be established, it would not matter what type of rights a woman believes she has because we could say, "Sorry, too bad. It's a human already." Women's rights would be null, void, inconsequential. But for some reason, with all the technology, brain power, reason, and understanding we have, we cannot come up with a definition for life that we all agree on. Laughable. This is, again, where I struggle to even comprehend my opponents' views. I have always considered life as originating at conception. This was only further validated upon becoming pregnant and successfully carrying and delivering a beautiful baby girl. I was not but 6 weeks and 5 days pregnant when I first saw my baby on a scan (of which 2 weeks the embryo was not even present in the womb yet; the intricacies of calculating a pregnancy). So, my baby had been in my womb for a mere (and approximate) 4 weeks and 5 days. I saw her heartbeat. Can you grasp that? I saw her (a human!) heart (a vital organ for living!) beat (it's working and functioning!).

There are different types of abortions that can be performed. One such type is called an aspiration. It can be performed up until week 16 of the pregnancy. I had an ultrasound scan in week 16 of my pregnancy performed by my best friend. I was lucky, because without her scanning me, I would have had to have waited another month to find out the sex of my baby. During my hour and a half scan, my best friend spent the entire time analyzing every part of my baby you could think of. We counted her toes and her fingers. We followed the arteries in her heart and looked at her spinal cord and where it met the brain. She looked at openings in the baby's brain and whether there was liquid in the bladder. And when I went home that night, Patrick and I felt our sweet baby girl move. If I had wanted to, for any reason (or no reason at all) I could have ended it right then... all in the name of "women's' rights."

My baby, by the way, is a girl. Should I have decided on abortion, what does this say about her rights as a future woman?

I sincerely do not want to offend anyone and I certainly don't want to argue with anyone. I am not so shallow as to think most women go into this decision flippantly and without pain (though too many do). I guess my heart is just torn at what this means for me. I chose to have my baby. But what about all the other children out there who weren't so lucky to have a Mom who could, or would, choose to give birth to them? What can I do to change this? How can I help? How can I make a difference? How can I appease and pacify the hurt this causes to so many people?

toys.

Emmaline LOVES her toys and she loves her Granny!!

positive.

I have been thinking a lot today about this exact day a year ago, the day we found out I was having a baby. So many things run through my head when I think about it. I think about the feelings, the fears, the hopes, the worry. A year ago today my life changed. Forever.

I know waking up that Sunday morning, September 13, 2009, neither Patrick nor I had any idea what was in store for us (for that day, and for the rest of our lives). School had just started and we were settling into our routines. For some reason, I just had this nagging feeling that I might possibly be pregnant. Patrick thought I was crazy. I wanted to go tanning but something kept telling me to find out for sure whether or not I was pregnant, just in case. Patrick thought I was being dramatic. I guess it was just my Mommy instinct.

We went to WalMart to buy a test. I remember Patrick didn't want to buy a name brand because he thought it was a waste of money. He is so cheap, haha. For me, I am not above buying generic but there are just some things I want ensured good quality: brakes, medicine, and pregnancy tests.

I took the box and went into the bathroom to take the test. Patrick warned me before I went into not to mess with him. How cruel would that be, honestly? So, I quickly read over the instructions, did the steps and waited. It didn't take more than a few seconds and the stick was already reading pregnant. Needless to say, I wasn't going tanning...

I remember being shocked. I remember walking out and having a half nervous laugh and half cry telling Patrick "I'm not joking! I'm not joking!" I remember hugging him and bursting into tears. I remember being more scared than I have ever been in my life. I remember thinking "This can't be happening" and also secretly, deep down, hoping it was happening.

It was Sunday so no doctors' offices were open. I wanted a blood test. I wanted a sonogram. I wanted a letter from my fetus with a notary signature verifying this was indeed a legit pregnancy. It didn't feel real. What does a pregnant woman feel like? I mean, granted I did look pregnant but that was completely due to over indulging on Mexican and pizza, not because I was growing a human.

On Monday, I went to the clinic on campus to have a blood test. Honestly, the people that worked in the office will never know how much they did for me that morning. They didn't judge. They didn't lecture. They didn't give knowing glances. They helped me, talked with me, and cared for me. They asked me what my plans were. I don't know?! Patrick had been waiting for me in the (appropriately titled) waiting room so I went and grabbed him. I told him on the way back to the office that it was confirmed. I was having a baby. We were having a baby.

The nurse talked with me about my medications I was currently on and whether or not they were safe. I remember going through each one and her telling me the possible side effects for a growing fetus. I lost it. It was so much responsibility already. I had only had this pregnancy confirmed five minutes before and I already loved my baby so much that the side effects she was telling me about scared me to tears. She prescribed me prenatal vitamins. She recommended an OBGYN in town she used. She hugged me and sent me on my way.

Patrick and I decided to skip Biology and we laid in my bed talking about how our lives were about to be flipped over, turned inside out and thrown for a loop. Obviously, I would be having this baby. Not doing so was never even a consideration. But what about after the baby was here? Would it be wise to raise it ourselves? Would it be selfish? Of course I wanted my baby but I had no job, no husband, no degree, and no time to fix any of that. Was I only thinking of myself when I wanted to raise it myself?

Although we talked about adoption, I think Patrick and I both knew we would always raise this baby. It was ours. We made it. At the time with everything thrown at us at once and not having a clue what we were going to do, we wanted every option discussed. Looking back now, I am sad we ever even talked about it but I know we were just being mature and looking at this from every angle trying to decide what was best.

It wasn't until September 25 that I would be able to get in and see my new OBGYN. He discussed the appointments, checked over my medicines, and went through our medical histories. He was about to leave when he asked if there was anything else we needed. I just remember looking at him and being so lost. I told him the truth: I was hoping this visit would make the baby seem more real to me. I was hoping I would feel more pregnant. I think he knew what I meant and what I needed. He squeezed me in to get an ultrasound and for that I will forever love that man!

A pretty lady came to get me and Patrick and she took us into the room to get a scan. She inserted the wand and I looked up at the monitor and I saw my baby. My baby. My child was right there swimming along, growing, beating... being. I cried. In that moment, I became a Mommy. Patrick became a man. And we became a family.

laughs.

Seriously, melt my heart. We have no idea what was making her giggle so hard but it was the cutest thing in the world. She had us both cracking up.

escuela.

Starting school again this fall semester has me thrown back into a place I knew very well as a girl without a child. So, naturally, I am constantly thinking about how things have changed now that I am a Mommy. And it's a little weird. It's cool... and weird.

I have a class right now in a classroom in Peck that I also had a class in last semester. In fact, it was the last classroom I was in on campus the day my water broke, literally the last class I took before I became a legit Mom. Patrick teases me because he clearly doesn't get the significance of this, haha. He likes to tell me, "It's not like your water broke IN that classroom." But it's all very symbolic to me. The last time I sat in that seat I wasn't a Mommy. Today, I am.

It's funny because I am such a nerd when it comes to school. I live for school supplies. Ask anyone. The stationery aisle is by far my favorite. I drool in a Staples. I plan my First-Day-of-School-Outfit for weeks. The night before, I lovingly and oh, so carefully pack my backpack with all my shiny new supplies. I make my lunch. I set out my carefully selected outfit. The morning of I am a nervous ball of anticipation. Who will my teachers be? Who will be in my classes? What kinds of books will we read?

This year there was none of that. I can't even remember what I wore. It possible was jeans and an MTSU t-shirt. Granted, I was still stoked about the school supply aisle but I just grabbed one 5-subject notebook since I am going to be on campus all day and have classes back to back. I didn't want to be lugging around a bunch of junk. I didn't take any pictures of myself. I didn't really care who I sat next to in my classes. All I could think about was 1] how damn tired I was and 2] how much I missed my baby girl and Patrick.

I admit it; I was the annoying Mom. I took any chance I could to tell people about my girl. I mean, obviously they wanted to see pictures, right? In my first class we had to play this lame get-to-know-you game. Gosh, how I loathe get-to-know-you games. This one was a sheet of statements like "I have a pet" or "I can speak more than one language" and you had to go around the room and find people who those statements were true about and get them to sign their name. I was just beside myself with pride when I got to sign my name next to "I have a child" on people's papers.

By the way, I won the game.

I was proud of myself though. I didn't cry when I left and I didn't shed a tear the whole day, not even when I called Patrick to see how things were going and I could hear her talking in the background. Ok, ok, I admit it. I melted when I came home and saw her for the first time that day. Yeah, I cried. It was the longest I had been away from my baby since right after she was born and they took her away for three hours.

And I was proud of my Patrick. Not much of what we are doing is easy right now. We have crammed all our classes into 2 or 3 days and staggered it so one of us is always home with the baby. We were really trying our best to avoid daycare because I just don't think we could swing it financially. But really, how many 20-year old guys are willing to be stay-at-home daddies 2 days a week? And not only willing, but good at it?

Not just good... great.

Whenever I tell people about our little plan for this semester and that she's home with him all day while I'm at school, they always kinda stop suddenly and get real serious and ask, "Oh, is he a good Dad?" which I find remarkably hilarious.

"No, he's really terrible with her. Sometimes he forgets her places and doesn't feed her. But I still leave her with him."

Obviously he's a good Daddy!

But our first week went well, without a hitch really and I am hoping this week goes well too. I just wish I was a coffee drinker because, man, I can't keep drinking all these Pepsi's for the caffeine or I will start to look like I am pregnant again very soon...

summer.

Family life has become so much more enjoyable as of late.

I mean, I have always loved my little family. But lately, things have gotten so much easier and funner. Emmaline loves to play and talk and smile. We just play with her for hours a day. I love trying to find new things she likes to do and new ways to make her smile. I am on a daily mission to make her laugh too!

She had her best hearty, belly laugh the other day at Hobby Lobby. My Mom was holding her so she was facing outward toward me and Patrick and out of nowhere she just starts laughing. It was so unbelievably cute. Melted me.

I am so nervous about next week. Patrick and I start school and I don't know how things are going to end up working out. I mean, I know they will. It's just going to be a big adjustment. I will be going all day Tuesdays and Thursdays (and I do mean ALL day. I am going to five classes back-to-back with no breaks in between at all.) Patrick is going all day Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I am so thankful that we were able to scatter our schedule so that one of us will always be with Emmaline. I don't what I would do otherwise, really.

Patrick will also be working 20 hours a week so he really won't be home a lot. I worry about him stretching himself too thin but he says he can handle it. He is so smart and he really never gets stressed out.

Me on the other hand... haha. I know I will have to stay on myself to keep up with schoolwork and constantly remind myself to just focus on school and Emmaline and Patrick and let everything else fall by the wayside. I won't have time to worry or fret!

So, here's to our last week of freedom and being able to spend every day together. I am going to miss being home with Patty and Emmaline and having them all to myself.

delivery.

So my IV had been started and I was receiving Pitocin to get the contractions moving to speed up the labor. Once your water has broken, labor really needs to move along and you should have the baby within 24 hours for safety. Towards the end of your pregnancy, your OB will perform a strep test in the office to see if you are negative or positive. It doesn't hurt the Mom to be positive but it can harm your newborn during birth so if they find out you are positive, they know to give you some antibiotics during labor later on. Problem was, I only had my test done the day before at my doctor's office and they didn't know the results so I was going to have to be given the antibiotic anyway to be safe. I was fine with that but man did it hurt! I could feel the medicine going through my hand and up my arm.

By this time, the phone calls had been made. My Dad and Patrick's parents were going to come in the morning once they had gotten some sleep. These things can take a lot of time and there was no sense in having everyone rush out in the middle of the night. My brother had been planning on coming to see me and Patrick the following day already for a huge wing festival at my school. $8 to charity and you got a field of all-you-can-eat wings. I guess we wouldn't be going after all; so much for the 4 tickets we'd already bought! Patrick and I had joked that as long as she waited until after the wings, we would be fine with whatever day she ended up coming. We called him to let him know I was in labor but he kindly informed us that he would have to wait until the morning to come see us. Seems he had a few drinks he needed to sleep off. Boys...

Next on the list was to let my best friend, Emily, know what was happening. She has been my friend since 5th grade and I love her and her whole family dearly. She actually scanned me in December and that's how we found out I was having a girl. It was such a special moment having someone who loves me and my little family so much telling us that important news!

"Text Emily! I know it's late but I am sure she's still up. I don't think she'd be mad if we woke her up anyway..." I ordered Patrick. He texted her to let her know what was happening and she immediately responded. Before he could even type out an answer to her, she called. Guess he was too slow for her! Just as I had suspected, she was still up. She offered to come out but I didn't want her trekking all the way out there in the middle of the night just to sit there but she let us know it was no problem; all she was doing was making barbeque sauce anyway. Gotta love her!

I had Patrick e-mail my professors to let them know I was having my baby. We still had three weeks left of classes and then finals! Obviously, I was infinitely more concerned with what was happening in that room but I'd be lying if I said finishing school wasn't ever on my mind at any point.

By now, my Mom and sisters had arrived. My 16-year old sister who had just gotten her license the day before had driven them all there. Why would my Mom let my newly licensed sister drive them all an hour and half, in the middle of the night, you ask? Because my mother had taken her sleeping medicine right before I called her about my water breaking. It was seriously like a movie. They had rolled a cot in for Patrick to attempt to sleep some that night but the poor guy had to share it with my Mom and two sisters. Yes, four people were crammed on a twin sized, roll in, fold up, hospital issued cot. Emily sat beside my bed in a chair and read and handed me ice chips and chap stick whenever I needed them.

The Pitocin was definitely working by this point. I would be talking to someone and just have to take a small break, breathe, and it would be fine. They started to get more and more powerful and painful. I looked up at the monitor. The line measuring the strength of my contractions was barely rising. I couldn't believe it. I mean, they really hurt and they were barely a blip on the screen. The nurse came in to check on me and noticed that my monitoring contraption had slipped off. As soon as she readjusted it, the screen started showing those glorious mountains of contraction strength. Whew... I wasn't as big of a wimp as I thought I was!

I had already decided I wanted an epidural as soon as it was deemed safe. I am no hero. I know it's a very personal choice that a lot of women put much thought into. But for me and my delivery, an epidural is the way I wanted to go. About the time the contractions started getting pretty powerful, my nurse came in to let me know I was far enough along to get my epidural. I felt I could handle the contractions for a little while longer, though. I didn't really know what to do. They weren't excruciating by any means but I also didn't think it made much sense to feel any pain at all if I was able to get medicine to alleviate it. I decided to wait it out a little while longer.

I am not sure how much time passed, maybe an hour, maybe longer. But I sent Patrick to let the nurse know I was ready. I was so nervous about the epidural but by this point I was getting pretty uncomfortable. The anesthesiologist came in and read me the list of everything that could go wrong: stroke, paralysis, death. I scribbled my signature. I was willing to take the chance. He made me feel better, however, by saying he had been doing this a long time and none of those things had ever happened. As he rolled in his cart and began to set things up, I was in much more pain. The nurse came in and walked me through everything that was going on. Patrick held my hand. I had to sit up (ouch!), hold still (more ouch!), and relax as he poked, prodded and paralyze me from the waist down. That was probably the hardest part - trying to hold still as I was simultaneously going through a contraction and being shot in the back with medicine.

After my epidural, the labor was much calmer. I settled back and tried to rest. They dimmed the lights and everyone fell asleep. It was weird to me as I sat there how peaceful everything was. Was I really about to have this baby? The sereneness of that early morning combined with the fact that she wasn't technically supposed to be here for over another month made me feel like this wasn't really happening. Wasn't I supposed to be screaming and crying and sweating and cursing? I felt fine. I felt good.

The nurse came in and measured me. I was progressing very quickly. We called my Dad to let him know he needed to come now. Before I knew it, he was in the room sitting beside my bed. Everyone else was asleep and it was just me and my Daddy talking quietly in that dim room. I don't remember what we talked about really but I remember thinking how happy I was he stayed awake with me.

I noticed my left side was regaining more feeling and I could completely feel my left leg at this point. I had Patrick go get the nurse so I could see what needed to happen. More medicine perhaps? She came in and told me to try and roll towards my left side as the epidural works with gravity. If that didn't work, she would get me some more medicine. While she was there, she decided to go ahead and measure me. My Dad left and everyone else just averted their eyes. They were fast asleep anyway. Much to my surprise, she let me know the baby was ready to come! I couldn't believe it. I was already at 10 cm and she could feel Emmaline's hair. This was it! No time for more medicine!

Immediately I got scared. Now? Now?! She's coming NOW?! But I wasn't prepared! We didn't have a pediatrician picked out yet. Her nursery wasn't finished! We hadn't had our baby shower! And Patrick and I weren't supposed to start our birthing classes until that following Monday!

Again, Patrick allayed all my fears. He held me. He soothed me. He said everything I needed to hear. I could tell he was excited. For the delivery, we wanted it to be just me and Patrick so my family and Emily gathered all their things and headed out to the waiting room.

While we were waiting for the nurse, I realized I could feel Emmaline. The epidural was definitely wearing off and I knew her head was right there. I got nauseated and had to throw up. I was scared the flexing needed to vomit would make her come out. I puked and immediately felt better. The nurse came in and let me know they had paged the doctor and they began to set up the room for a delivery.

Once everything was set, she walked Patrick and me through how it worked. She pulled a mirror over and let me have two practice pushes. Emmaline's head was right there.

"Ok, maybe we better stop pushing until the doctor gets here," she said. I could tell she was surprised how easily and quickly Emmaline was coming. I knew I was! I tried to explain it later to my Mom but the right words never came. Delivering Emmaline was the weirdest experience. I felt like I had done it before. I knew exactly where and how to push. It was definitely a surreal moment. I chalk that up to God giving women an innate knowledge of how to deliver a baby. He prepares us in ways we don't even know.

Just a few moments before 8a, my doctor finally arrived. I was just sitting there holding back the urge to push and begging him in my mind to hurry up! He walked in and began to dress. "Where are my shoe coverings?" he asked the nurse. She had to go get some for him. I wanted to shout, "Are you guys really serious? I will buy you a new pair of shoes! Just get over here so I can get this baby out of me!"

She finally came back with some and we were set to go. He sat down at the base of my bed and told me to wait until the next contraction and to push with everything I had. The contraction came and I pushed with every fiber, nerve, and cell in my body and she plopped out!

At 8:01a on Saturday April 10, 2010 my girl was born.

"She's here!" I yelled.

"She's so cute!" Patrick said.

NICU had set up a station to look at her immediately since she was early. I kept asking if she was OK. She wasn't making any sounds.

"She looks great so far," they told me. I looked over at the bassinet they were examining her in and all I could see were these big beautiful eyes staring back at us. She was too busy being nosey and taking in this new world to cry!

They wrapped her up and put her in my arms. My baby! She was perfect. I didn't need any NICU nurses to tell me that. Thankfully one of the nurses reminded Patrick we had the camera and told him to take some pictures. I don't think either one of us would have remembered. He got some wonderful shots of my first moments with her. And then they took a picture of the three of us. My family!

All too soon they let me know they needed to take her to clean her up and observe her. I told Patrick I would be fine and to go with her. He brought her out and showed her to my family. I wish I could have seen their faces when they first saw her. And then she had to go into the Well Baby nursery to be checked out.

"When can I see her again?" I asked. They told me it usually took about 3 hours for NICU and a pediatrician to examine the early babies. THREE HOURS? I was crushed. But I knew it was necessary to make sure she was healthy and safe.

After three hours, I was in the recovery room waiting patiently for my bundle. When they finally wheeled her in, I thought I was just going to burst. I was beside myself at getting to see her again. She was all clean and starting to get color in her skin. She was gorgeous, just the most perfectly beautiful little girl I had ever seen. She was so alert too. I couldn't stop crying. My girl was here!

labor.

It all started on Friday April 9, 2010.

It began like any normal Friday had that whole semester. Patrick had class at 9a and, although I didn't have a class until 10a, I got up early at 7:30a and made cinnamon rolls... our Friday tradition.

Sometimes I went back to bed and slept until my physical science class. And, I'll be honest and admit that sometimes I went back to bed and slept through my physical science class. But I was a good girl and got up, dressed, and went to school. I even stayed for my next class, World Civilizations I. Go me.

Patrick and I both ended our Fridays at the same time so he met me at my last class. I had gotten out kind of early so I was just resting on a bench. I was still cramping like I had been all week. Were these the elusive Braxton-Hicks I had been waiting for? On Monday I had sat out on the couch for about an hour while I cramped up. I couldn't tell if it was a tummy ache or practice contractions. I secretly hoped they were contractions. Today was the same. Honestly, it felt like I needed to poop.

So, Patrick and I met at home and had lunch. I had been itching all day to get some work done around the apartment and had made an extensive to-do list. This included moving some furniture around the house, cleaning the bathrooms, laundry, doing some things in Emmaline's nursery, Mr. Clean Magic Eraser-ing the walls, etc. Patrick was such a good sport. He just did whatever I asked of him and he did it joyfully.

We had some errands to run around town so after we worked for a few hours and I sufficiently wore myself out, we set out to get some more things done. We went to TJMaxx and Target to look for some silver sandals to go with my dress I wanted to wear the next week to my baby shower. We went to WalMart and bought a few things we needed for dinner. Then we came home.

For dinner I cooked Steak-Um sandwiches and my homemade baked macaroni and cheese. It was good even though Patrick whined about the meat. I never alleged they were fancy, honey! ha.

By time dinner was done and cleaned up, it was getting late. On Fridays, Patrick worked at midnight until 2am so he usually liked to nap for a couple of hours late in the evening. Around 10p he went into the bedroom to attempt to nap and I went to the bathroom to attempt to shower.

I got completely undressed and got everything ready to hop into the shower. I decided to pee real quick because it never fails the second I step into the shower I have to go. After I peed, I stood up and stepped onto the towel we put at the base of the shower. I felt something warm run down my leg.

Ugh, did I really just pee on myself? This pregnancy thing is getting out of control...

Then my stomach sank. Is my water breaking, I wondered.

Half of me instantly became excited. My baby could be on her way!

The other half of me was horrified. I was only 34 weeks and 5 days.

I yelled for poor Patrick who was trying to get some shut eye. "I don't know if it is pee or what but I think my water broke." He, of course, ran into the bathroom to see me standing there naked on a towel, scared out of my mind. I wanted to call my Mom. It was late, but she thankfully answered. She talked me through it, including advising me to smell the towel and see if smelled like urine or sweet like amniotic fluid.

I smelled fabric sheets.

While I was on the phone with her, Patrick was aimlessly thumbing through my What to Expect When You're Expecting looking for that magical page that would give us the answers. He couldn't find much more information than what my Mom had just told me and what I had memorized months before.

I decided it would be wise to not shower just in case "more" came out. Patrick advised me to get dressed and come lay down in bed and relax. He went back into our room and tried once again to nap. As I went to get dressed, "more" did come out, little gushes of clear fluid.

"Patrick, it's happening again. And I know I am not peeing!"

So he came in and (this might be embarrassing to him) picked up the towel and smelled it. It was so frustrating to just smell that stupid lavender fabric sheet!

We decided we better go to the hospital, just to be sure. I had one thing to do before we left though.

I had to shave my legs.

I might not have been able to get a shower in, but if I was going to have this baby, I was going to have smooth legs!

So, Patrick let me shave my legs in the sink really quickly and we got all our bags together and called my family. Luckily, the drive to the hospital was only about 3 1/2 minutes. Patrick dropped me off at the ER entrance (protocol for after hours) so he could go park the car and I waddled to the front desk.

"Can I help you?" he asked me.

"Um, hi. I don't know if I pissed myself or if I'm having a baby," is what I was thinking but I managed to mumble out, "I think my water broke."

He directed me where to go down the hall and I told him to be on the lookout for Patrick who would be following behind me shortly.

The next few minutes were spent reuniting with Patrick, getting my paperwork pulled up, our bracelets put on, and trying to hold back the tears of nervousness as it hit me that something really could be wrong.

As the nurse came to get me with a wheelchair to take me upstairs to get checked, I began to cry. I told her I was embarrassed but I didn't know if my water had broken or if I had just peed myself. "I'm only 34 weeks and 5 days," I shakily told her.

"Oh well let's hope for the baby's sake its just pee because we really don't like to see them this early!" she told me.

Really? Did you just say that to me as I sit here in soaking underwear?

Her sentence reverberated in my head all the way up to Labor and Delivery Room 5. Once she got me in there, she told me to get undressed, put on the gown and someone would be in to check me soon. She closed the door behind her and I lost it.

I just started bawling in Patrick's chest. I had read enough to know 5 weeks is a lot of time in baby-making world. She could be very sick if she came out tonight. Patrick, as always, was 100% calm and supportive. He held me, let me cry, and told me everything would be OK.

The nurse came in and measured me. It hurt so bad. I was 3 1/2 cm!

She had brought some test strips in with her to see if my water had indeed broke. They were supposed to turn a bright blue if my water had broken.

They didn't. I was crushed.

She did one more test to be sure but this one had to be sent to the lab and would take a few minutes. She measured again and said she really felt like my water had broke.

Ten minutes later she was hooking me up to an IV and starting Pitocin. Turns out, my water had broken, and Emmaline was coming.

I kept asking, "Is she going to be OK? What's going to happen?" But of course no one could answer any of those questions. We wouldn't know what the situation would be until she got here.

We called my Mom and let her know that YES, I was indeed in labor. She and my sisters were on their way.

And so was my baby!

..to be continued...

cuatro.

So it's been a few days since I've updated. Sue me.

Actually don't. Well, you can if you want but you wouldn't win anything. Dirty laundry maybe?

We have been at Nana's house for a few days so Patrick can put a new roof up on their house. He is so handy. Seriously. And such a hard worker. Emmaline and I are lucky to have him.

In the few days we've been here, I can already see how much Emmaline has changed. It's borderline ridiculous how much she changes in a day. I mean, it's to the point where I can notice her changing from the night before. Crazy.

Her head is getting bigger. Her thighs are filling out (new folds!). She holds her head up perfectly. She is recognizing that being placed in her bouncer = more time until she is fed because Mommy still has to go make the bottle. And this very much makes her an angry baby. And more and more, I see that she is understanding what's going on around her.

Yesterday as I was sitting in Papa Mark's big recliner rocking the baby, she just stared at me. And I mean, she is a nosey little thing. She has been staring at us since she was born. But this was different. It was like she was actually taking in my face. She was following the frame of my face, looking at all the pieces, grasping that this is Mommy. This belongs to her.

Then she reached up and grabbed my chin. I don't know what makes me believe this, because it's not like this is the first time she's touched me. But I just know she was making the connection between what she was seeing and what she was feeling. She rubbed my lips, touched my nose and I proceeded to melt.

Emmaline is four months old today and at the risk of sounding like a big cliched doofus, I can't grasp that. She has been with us 122 days. But of course, I can't remember a moment in my life before she was here. I think being a Mommy means your children were always a part of you.

more ouchies.

A lot is going through my mind right now and has been the last few days. I am unsure where to begin or how to approach this subject. I don't want to sound whiney. I don't want to sound ungrateful.

Ever since I can remember, I have suffered from headaches and migraines. I don't know exactly when they started, but I can distinctly remember having to call my Mom from school as early as the 3rd grade for her to come get me. I can remember vomiting in the car on the way home. I can remember what it was (orange juice and pizza!) and being in so much pain. This was commonplace for pretty much my whole childhood.

Can I just stop for a second and interject about how amazing my Mom is? I remember when I threw up that one time that it was in a shopping bag that she had brought into the car just in case I did throw up and every time since that point, when she would pick me up from school she always remembered and thought to bring something for me to throw up in. This is just how my Mom is. She is so smart - honestly one of the smartest women I know. She considers everything. For instance, I am 100% certain it would take me having my child accidentally throwing up in the car before I learned to bring a bag. It would only take one time but I would still have to have it happen to learn my lesson. My Mom is much more preemptive. She comes up with the best ideas and I am so glad I have her to look up to for mothering (and everything else!) things.

I digress.

As I grew older, I would get more headaches and migraines. I only got a migraine maybe once every month or two, but I would have a headache at least once a week. Once I hit high school, I was having migraines much more often. It was always the same routine. I would feel a headache coming on but it would very quickly get much more painful than just a "normal" headache. Nausea would set in. I would get very hot. Every little sound and light would make my head throb and stomach churn. I would have to call my Mom to come get me. Sometimes I made it home before I threw up. Sometimes I didn't. When I got home, my Mom would bring me to my room, help me get down to just a t-shirt and undies, put a fan on, turn down the air, close up my blinds and drapes, get some ice for my head, a bowl just in case, and have me lay down. Then she would sit at the end of my bed and rub my feet (my favorite thing in the world!) until I fell asleep. I would sleep a few hours, sometimes right through the night, and when I woke up, I would be 100% again.

My Mom snuck medicine in my backpack because taking something as soon as I felt bad would be the best thing. But by time I was 10, Tylenol wasn't working at all anymore. I would take 800 to 1000 mg with no effect. My Mom would get so mad with me when I called crying for her to come get me. "Why did you wait so long to call me?" or "Why did you let it get so bad?" she would ask me. She hated to see me in pain. But the thing was, I would get headaches a lot. I suffered in school with a headache most days. It was only once it became a migraine that I needed to go home and it was hard to tell when it was going to suddenly become one. If I went home every time my head hurt, I would have never graduated from high school!

As I've gotten older, they've changed. Now, sleeping doesn't get rid of them. I often have a headache for days before it goes away. Now with my headaches, I get chills and sweat like I just ran a marathon.

And now I have something I can't just sleep through and ignore until I feel better: Emmaline.

I often wondered when I was younger how having a big girl job, or a child, would be affected by my headaches and migraines. Unless people experience migraines themselves, they just don't understand how horrible they are. I have had many bosses be so angry and non-understanding when I've needed to leave work. I mean, I get they have a job to do and need workers. But I am beyond worthless with a headache! I've missed more than a fair share of classes because I couldn't walk to class without throwing up.

The past two weeks I have had a headache literally every single day. I finally went to the doctor yesterday to see if I could get some medicine adjusted but I can't help but feel... helpless. I know this is here to stay. My Grandma, Uncle, and Mom all suffer from migraines. I've been dealing with this for almost two decades. But somehow things just seem worse now with my daughter entered into the picture. What am I supposed to do when I am vomiting and so sensitive to light I have to turn her monitor around because the tiny green status light letting me know the battery is charged feels like ice picks in my eyes? How am I supposed to care for her when I can't even walk I am in so much pain? How am I supposed to be a good mother?

I know people have successfully parented through much more debilitating conditions and much worse situations. People get cancer, are homeless, lose spouses and jobs and are still able to raise healthy, wonderful children. So I don't want to sound all "woe is me." My Mom was (and still is!) an amazing mother and she, too, has suffered from headaches and migraines.

But the truth of the matter is, I am in pain a lot and I am having trouble reconciling my illness with raising my daughter and giving her all the attention she needs and deserves.

changes.

Along with the arrival of a newborn also comes the barrage of cliches.

"Time flies so quickly."

"You've never known love until now."

"Say goodbye to sleep."

And they're tried-and-true cliches because they are so true. You can't help but take note and do your best to forewarn new parents.

And the cliche I am feeling strongly today, and have been for the past few days, is the one that says how much a baby changes you. I am not the same Naomi I was a year ago. I am not even the same Naomi I was 4 months ago. Yes, we change because of all the obvious reasons: you get huge and then small again, one day it's just you and your love and then the next you have an extra small human with you, your boobs now produce a beverage, etc.

But it affects a very real and internal part of your mind, of you.

I don't speed anymore. Ever. I just can't. I had a very impressive and extensive collection of speeding tickets before I even turned 20. Granted, I haven't gotten one since then, but I would assert that it's extremely highly unlikely (especially if that sweet baby is in the car with me) that I will be getting one any time soon.

I don't tan. If you knew me when I was pregnant, you may remember my dilemma with trying to find out if sunless tanning was safe to do while pregnant. I was fat. I was sickly. I was pale. I wanted to do something to feel pretty again. I couldn't wait until I had her and could go tanning again. Fast forward to now, the summer for Pete's sake, where I have time and the ability to tan at a salon or our pool which is no more than 30 yards away from my front door - and I don't. I am horrified of tanning now. I want to be as healthy I can possibly be and tanning just isn't important enough or worth it to me.

Of course these are just dumb little examples but they are jut a glimpse of what goes through my head nowadays, now that I am a Mommy.

Somehow, for some reason, God chose me (me!) to receive this blessing of Emmaline. And I am going to take care of the sweet gift, and myself, because it's important to me. She's important to me.

ouchies.

Well, I am thankfully able to write a coherent and pain-free sentence today after suffering from a headache and then migraine for the past two days. It started Tuesday night, just a run of the mill headache, the kind I get just about every other day. Unfortunately, Patrick had the worst shift ever, 11p to 5a, so I just had to suck it up and take care of Miss Emmaline that afternoon (so he could nap) and that evening/early morning.

It really wasn't too terrible. She was very good for me and we just spent some Mommy-Daughter time together without our stinky Daddy :) By time Patrick got home a little after 5am, I was just finished feeding the baby, pumping, and washing all the bottles and supplies. We talked for a few minutes and then went to sleep. By 7am when Emmaline woke up again, I had planned on getting up with her so Patrick could catch up on some sleep, but when I woke up my head was pounding. I'm sure Patrick was thinking, "Yeah, right..." when I said I hurt too bad to get her but he (like a champ) got her anyway while I sat and suffered. And suffered...

For those of you who get the occasional (or, like my Dad, NEVER) headache, you have no idea how excruciating a migraine is. And for those of you who do know, I am so, so sorry. You have the worst, worst headache you can imagine. You are sensitive to light and sound so miniscule it's ridiculous. I have to turn my phone and monitor around because those tiny green status lights make my stomach churn. You are sweating like you just ran a marathon and have chills. And the worst part... the vomiting. I hadn't thrown up since right before I delivered Emmaline (literally, right before. I was afraid to vomit because I thought flexing my stomach muscles to do it would push her out!).

After an hour of this, I called Patrick in and begged him to go searching through our medicine container to find something, anything, to give me. Luckily, after I had the baby, I had a prescription for Lortab filled that I never used. He gave me two and for that I will forever be grateful.

So, naturally after this I was zonked. I slept until 1p which was amazing but once I was awake, I felt awful that poor Patrick had been up all night, barely slept 2 hours, and then had to be up with the baby again. But honestly, what was I supposed to do? and what if Patrick hadn't been there? There is literally no way I could have cared for Emmaline. I guess I would have had to call my Dad or someone to come over and help.

Anyway, I let Patrick take a much-needed and much-deserved nap when I got up. After a couple of hours, he asked if he could go look at a potential motorcycle purchase a friend was interested in. I think it's so cute he asks me :) Of course I was going to let him! He saved my life that morning, haha. As luck would have it, about 20 minutes after he left I started to feel awful again. The next two hours were just a mixture of feeding and changing her, and letting Elmo help out in between. Thank God for Elmo and an oddly attentive 3 1/2 month old. When Patrick got home, I popped another Lortab and just tried to finish out the night.

I love, love, love Patrick, Lortab, and Elmo.

pictures.

Been a while since I have posted. Many apologies since, I am sure, the masses were clamoring for an entry from me.

Since I last posted, Pookie and I successfully lasted 5 whole days and nights without our Daddy. He needed to go home to his parents' house to do some work and I decided to go to my parents' house. I didn't really want to be left completely alone for a whole week and we have been to his parents' house a lot more this summer than mine so I decided to go there and spend some time. I was thankful for their help and willingness to put up with a crying baby all week... but it was so nice to get back to our own home with our Daddy!

Which reminds me... special shoutout to Aunt-of-the-Week, Sassy, for forfeiting her room for an entire week so Emmaline and I could set up camp. That was an enormously sweet thing to do for us and we really appreciate it!

I know I have said this before, perhaps not in the blawgg, but for sure in real life, but I am so unbelievably grateful for Patrick. I am so lucky to have my family who adores Emmaline and helps me in any way they can, but nothing beats the team Patrick and I make together. Although nothing really ever goes the way we plan, we have our routine and get things done seamlessly... sometimes without even talking. We just know each other so well.

I think it's worth mentioning, you know, Patrick and I didn't plan to have Emmaline now. Although neither one of us can imagine our lives without her now, there was a very real time when the thought of having this baby was utterly frightening. And Patrick stuck around. He never wavered, never questioned, never faltered, never backed down, and never chickened out. I know this is how a "real man" should act but that isn't always the case with unwed 19-year old guys. But Patrick has done anything and everything I could have ever hoped my partner in life and father of my child would do. I am so in love with him.

Are you bored of the mushy-gushy stuff? Ha.

Too bad; there's more mush!

Today we took Emmaline to get her 3 month photos taken. I wasn't sure how it would all work out. I know my girl well enough to know that it could be hit or miss with her mood. We decided to wait until she had napped a good, solid nap and eaten before we would try and take her out. This ended up happening around 3p. So we put her in her adorable little dress that her Nana Marie got her, the hugest bib she had, a burp cloth, and a blanket over the whole thing for good measure! Can you believe she kept her dress clean for us? Yay!

We went to Sears and the lady who helped us was wonderful. Seriously. She was so patient with Emmaline. She didn't even bat an eyelash and told us to take our time when Emmaline decided the beginning of her photo shoot was the perfect time for a poop. And she got down on her hands and knees and made the goofiest noises in the world to get my baby to look and smile. I secretly hoped for (but wasn't expecting) some wonderful shots of her smiling and we got some!

And the photos turned out amazing! (If I do say so myself...)







After we saw the photos, I just couldn't stop cuddling and kissing Emmaline. I was so proud of her! She was in the perfect mood and took the most beautiful photos. I really couldn't have asked for anything more (cheaper photo packages, maybe?) and I am so happy we have these precious photos to remember how perfect and adorable she was at just 3 months old.