#11 is ballet

In my last post I listed 10 happenings around here.  I forgot one!  Mary started ballet again.  It's a wonderful program.  They learn to dance instead of a dance.  They spend time at the barre, and they dance to music from the great ballets.

Mary was a little nervous, but she was so happy that her friend Molly is in her class.  It's always comforting to be with a familiar face.  Mary did wonderfully.  She was graceful and concentrated, following the directions carefully.  I love my ballerina!

Mary is the one in pink.

Mary and Molly

The dancer wait their turns.

Odds and ends

Except for this sentence, I will not type "Sara" in this post.  Believe it or not, there have been other happenings in our family.

1.  David and Mary have been ice skating a couple of times.  The first time was when I was in the hospital, and the next time the kids brought their two grandpas who were in town.  This winter was their first experience ice skating.  But David's school does a roller blading PE unit every year, so ice skating was a breeze for him.  And Mary caught on quite quickly too.

Mary's first time on ice skates

David's first time ice skating

Grandpa Mike on ice skates!  Grandpa Steve was there too.

2.  Speaking of winter sports, one afternoon David and Mary had a blast sledding on the hill that separates our house from the chocolate factory. Actually, it was more like free falling than sledding.

Mary faces down the cliff.

David climbs back up.

 3.  Mary lost her first tooth last night!  Hooray!  (And the Tooth Fairy even remembered to come ...  at 5:00 am this morning.)  That first lost tooth really seems to mark the beginning of being a big kid.  The end of being really little.  I am glad we have another tiny kid in the wings, otherwise I would be feeling pretty sad, I think.


4.  Greg and I are in charge of the science fair at David's school again this year.  Now that we have done it once, it's pretty much a breeze.  But it probably couldn't come at a worse time in our lives.  Oh well.  At least this year we remembered David's science project.  Helping him do his project was literally the last thing on our science fair to-do list last year.  Isn't that sad?  This year David is growing crystals, and we didn't start too late.  I don't like science, but I am very glad David does.


5.  Valentine's Day came and went.  Thanks to Amazon 2-day shipping I did get my act together and get nice little gifts for the kids.  I did not, however, manage to wrap them in pink and red tissue paper or hide them at the end of a trail of paper heart cut-outs or attach Valentine-themed candy.  I presented the Valentines's Day gifts in their cardboard Amazon boxes.  This was a huge let-down for the kids.  I guess presentation is everything.  And I thought I was doing so well!  Oh well.

Mary with her loot.  Greg asked me, "When did Valentine's Day turn into Halloween?"  Good question.

Mary wrote about Valentine's Day at her school.  She drew a picture of her class in a circle passing out valentines.

She wrote:  I love valentines because I get to celebrate at school and I love valentines because we can put up hearts.

David was very sweet this year about Valentine's Day.  He was thoughtful about which kids got which valentine.  Then when it seemed he might be sick and miss the party, he was sad because he explained that the whole point it to watch everyone open their valentines and see how happy they are.  (He wasn't sick, so he didn't miss the party, and he got to see everyone's happy faces as they read their valentines.)


6.  We are getting ready to put our house on the market.  It is a lot of work!  And everything is harder with a baby, even an easy one.  We are super busy!  I guess the busy-ness keeps me from feeling how sad I am to be leaving.  Yesterday I was in the car and a rebroadcast of Garrison Keillor happened to be on the radio and he said this thing about the beauty of new snow and a neighbor snow blowing your sidewalk for you without wanting to be thanked and suddenly out of nowhere I burst into tears.  I felt so sad about leaving Wisconsin.  I always describe myself as a Westerner, having spent most of my life in Idaho, Colorado, Arizona, California, and Utah. My roots are definitely in the West. But I think Madison might actually be my home.  It is difficult to leave.


7.  I am very worried about Mary's school situation for next year.  The Montessori school we like in Dayton is not accepting new students for next year, because of her birthday we cannot register her for first grade, and she will simply die of boredom in kindergarten, especially half-time kindergarten.


8.  Speaking of school and situations, I have been talking a lot with David's teacher the past couple of weeks.  Talking a lot with your child's teacher is generally not a sign that school life is problem-free.


9.  At the beginning of the school year David drew this awesome picture of Schoolhouse Beach on Washington Island in Door County.  It looks just like it!  The water in Lake Michigan was super cold.  But he was brave and swam out to the diving platform.  And then he was even braver and jumped into the water.  (Really, it took a lot of guts to do it.)   I love that he remembered that experience and created this picture in art class.

To me, courage is jumping in cold water.  Here I go!

Grammy used David's picture in a recent workshop she taught on facing challenges in our lives.


10.  Sara--oops, I mentioned her name--has been to visit both Mary's and David's classes.  Last week we visited Mary's class twice.  Anna, Mary's teacher, stopped everything so the sweet little kids could come see Sara.  Mary was so excited she couldn't even stand it!  In fact, she bawled when I left because it was so emotional for her.  And today I took Sara for a special Sara Show and Tell in David's class.  The whole class gathered around while David, beaming with pride, talked about his sister.  Oh, Sara, you are so loved and adored.

A hospital story, part 2: Something bad (but not too bad)

Like I said, Real Life is knocking on my door.  Pounding on my door.  Kicking in the door with muddy boots and tromping all over my clean floors.  So it's time to start typing as fast as my untrained fingers can go and get this post (and the next) over with.  Fly, fingers, fly .... here we go ...

Greg and I at the beginning of our next adventure in life

After Sara's pretty much uneventful birth, things continued along pretty much uneventfully.  Because I had gestational diabetes, poor Sara had to have her heal pricked every hour or so to check her blood sugar levels.  Fortunately, her levels were always perfect!  I breathed a sigh of relief each time.  I was moved from the recovery area to a family suite, the kids came to meet Sara, and I settled in for a few quiet days in the hospital of cuddling and nursing and sleeping.

Then Sara turned yellow.  Like radioactive glowing yellow.  And it started after just twelve hours.  This was not good.

So here's what happened, the best I can explain it.  You have to remember that science is my least favorite subject and blood grosses me out--hence no medical background--AND I was on some serious narcotics during this experience SO I might not be the ultimate authority here.  I apologize if I don't have this quite right...

We all have some dead red blood cells in our bodies.  The liver turns them into bilirubin and then breaks down the bilirubin.  Before babies are born, the placenta does this job for them.  It's not until after they are born that their livers begin to do this.  It takes time for a baby's liver to get going, so the bilirubin, which is yellow, builds up, giving the baby jaundice.  It's perfectly normal for babies to get jaundice, and it usually peaks at about day 4 and resolves on its own.  Sometimes babies need extra help breaking down the bilirubin, which can also be broken down with light, so parents may be asked to put their babies in sunlight or under special lights.

As I mentioned, jaundice usually peaks on day 4.  So when Sara started turning yellow at just twelve hours of age and was bright canary by 24 hours, it couldn't be good.

Sara at just a few hours old.  Pinkish white skin.

Sara at 24 hours old.  A carrot!

In Sara's case, it was more serious.  Quite serious, in fact.  She and I have mismatched blood types, and in this case, with my O+ blood and her A+ blood, it caused problems.  Specifically, Sara had a load of dead red blood cells in her body, so her bilirubin levels went through the roof.  Her little body couldn't process and expel the bilirubin.  If bilirubin levels get too high, it causes brain damage.  Her levels were definitely on the trajectory to a dangerous level.

Now, without treatment, the situation would have become scary and dangerous.  But she was going to receive treatment, and treatment works, so the situation wasn't really that scary.  The treatment was going to work, and she was going to get the treatment, so she was going to be okay.  She was always going to be okay, so there wasn't really anything to worry about.  Does that make sense? This was one of those situations where there wasn't a lot of uncertainty.  For which I am (and was) very grateful.  The only question was how long the treatment was going to take.

In Sara's case, extreme treatment (i.e. blood transfusions) wasn't needed.  Phew.  For her, treatment was   24-7 phototherapy (to break down the bilirubin) and plenty to eat (to flush it out of her system).  The moment the doctor saw how high her levels were, she was immediately placed in a bed with special blue UV lights above, below, and beside her.  She was surrounded by lights.

But I wanted her to be surrounded by my arms.

Our "bili-baby" in her "bili-bed"

That was the hard part, not holding her.  After my babies are born, I have this overwhelming, all-consuming need to hold them close.  I miss them.  They have been with me for so many months.  I do not want to be separated.  That first night with Sara, I could not put her down.  When I should have been sleeping, I stayed up, holding her little sleeping body to my chest.  I could not even bear for her to be next to me in the bassinet.  I needed--needed!--to feel her body and her breath on my skin.

Then, suddenly, I couldn't hold her anymore.  One moment she was swaddled cozy in my arms, and the next she was stripped down to her diaper, a protective mask was attached to her temples with velcro, and she was placed loose and naked under the lights, where she seemed so vulnerable.  We could take her out every three hours to feed her, but she couldn't be out for more than an hour.

Those precious single hours when she was out of the lights were stressful.  Feeding her was crucial.  She wouldn't get better unless she could eat and pass the bilirubin out of her body.  But feeding her wasn't easy.  Since she entered the world without a journey down the birth canal, the mucus hadn't been squeezed out of her.  Instead, it filled her tummy, so she was simply not very hungry in those early days.  To make matters worse, as the bilirubin level rose, she became more and more lethargic, a common symptom.  Feeding a 2-day-old who is not hungry and not awake is pretty much ... not possible.  Even more complicated is that cute little chin of Sara's.  Her jaw bone protrudes at the chin (the doctor has some fancy Latin name for it), enough to interfere with her ability to latch on.  She can do it, which is a blessing. But it's tricky for her (even now at the ripe age of 7 weeks).  Needless to say, breastfeeding was not going well.

Not only could I no longer hold my baby, but I soon had to make quick decisions about feeding.  Things I'd never thought about before--pumping and supplemental nursing systems and finger feeding and formula.  Looking back, these do not seems like particularly challenging topics.  But in my super emotional-hormonal-delirious-sleep-deprived state, each decision seemed monumental and overwhelming.  I have to credit the pediatricians and especially the nurses and lactation consultants for helping me find a good balance between the urgent matter of getting fluids into my baby and the long term importance of establishing breastfeeding.  (I think this is the first time I am breastfeeding because of lactation consultants and not despite them!  They were wonderful at St. Mary's.)

Even once the decisions were made, feeding time was stressful.  We would get Sara, change her diaper, and then try to get her to latch on--which was only successful occasionally, and then only if I had two other sets of hands to help me.  (This was my third baby!  And it took a nurse AND a lactation consultant BOTH for me to have any chance of getting her latched on.  Sheesh--I felt like such a novice.)  After it was clear breastfeeding was not going to work at that feeding (which was almost every time, meaning the few precious minutes I did have with her were spent in frustration), Greg would finger feed her formula while I pumped like a mad woman trying to get my milk to come in sooner.  (Eventually we were able to switch from formula to colostrum, thanks to all that pumping.)  Then I would sneak in a couple of minutes of cuddles and kisses.  And then back she would go.  We would cover her eyes with her mask, lay her exposed  in the bed, give her a pacifier, and hope she would be okay  looking so lonely and vulnerable.  (I have a new appreciation for moms whose babies are in the NICU.  This was nothing like that.  But I have a teensy tiny bit better understanding of how emotionally difficult it would be to have your baby in an incubator.)

Greg keeps Sara alive.  He was so good at getting her to eat enough that the nurses absolutely adored him.  (Me too, of course!)

We settled into our routine.  Not the routine I had imagined.  But a routine that would lead to a healthy baby.

 While all of this was going on, don't forget that I was recovering from surgery.  Something as simple as getting out of bed, walking over to a chair, sitting in the chair, and then positioning a baby to nurse was painful and exhausting.  At first, going to the bathroom was like climbing Mount Everest (but by the end it was only like climbing Pike's Peak.)  Between worrying about Sara and caring for her, I tried to squeeze in sleep and eating and showering. It was so crazy that it was several days before I even left the hospital room!  Soon I tried to find a few minutes here and there to walk the halls to help me recover faster.  The best way to describe how I felt is overwhelmed.  Trying to care for myself (which I recognized was important) on top of feeling stressed out about my baby's situation was incredibly overwhelming for me.

But, like I said, we settled into a routine.  I wasn't able to care for Sara myself, even with help from nurses.  So Greg spent a lot of time with me--the most time we've spent together in years.  But he also needed to help care for David and Mary.  So my mom usually stayed with me for a chunk of the day.  She learned to finger feed Sara.  And my dear friend Shawna came to help in the evenings.  She, too, learned to feed Sara.  Then Greg would come to spend the night.  He would pull out the chair and curl up in his gray sweatshirt until  the nurse brought Sara to us for a feeding.

Sara's bilirubin levels continued to rise, but that was to be expected.  The important thing is that she was not in the danger zone.  The real test would be at about day 4, when bilirubin levels can spike up.  Would that happen?  That would be the make or break day.  Here levels would spike towards a dangerous level.  Or she would be safe and soon on her way home.

So it was a waiting game, as we trudged along with the treatment.  The real question was whether or not Sara would be able to come home with me.  If I had not had a C-section, I would have left the hospital without my baby.  The phototherapy she needed was much more intense than we could have given her at home.  Sara was born Friday morning.  My doctor and I thought I would probably go home Monday.  Over the weekend, though, when it became apparent this little girl wasn't going home anytime soon, my doctor and I decided I would stay until Tuesday, the latest my insurance would allow.

I was a wreck on Monday.  I had yet to get Sara to nurse without a lot of professional help.  I was still in a lot of pain.  And I had to face the reality that Sara might not be going home with me the next day.

But I was so grateful that I had been able to be with Sara in the hospital.  She was not in the NICU, so the nurses would move her big light set-up piece by piece down to my room.  I could not hold her.  I couldn't even see her from where I rested in bed.  But I knew she was near.  We were together.  What a blessing to be in close proximity to her.  What a blessing for Sara and me to be cared for by the same nurses.  As overwhelmed as I felt, I could recognize how much simpler my life was because I could stay in the hospital with Sara.  Yes, I worried about David and Mary.  I longed for their visits.  But I was grateful for that hospital room--a peaceful little bubble protected from the chaos of the outside world where I could focus on Sara and getting her better.  Such simple logistics were a true blessing.

I think there are a lot of reasons why I felt like I should have a C-section.  I figure most of the reasons only God will know.  But I cannot help but recognize what a blessing it was to be able to be in the hospital with Sara.  How thankful I am that I was not sent home without her, that I had those extras days with her because I had had the C-section.

So, yes, come Tuesday morning we learned that we would be discharged together.  I would have wept, except that I had already wept so much over those few, intense days.  What I relief I felt when the pediatrician came in and announced that Sara could go home that day.  And her levels were so good that we didn't even have to continue any phototherapy at home.  Hooray!

I was feeling much, much better physically by Tuesday.  Sara had even latched on Monday night without professional help, so I felt more confident in my ability to establish breastfeeding with her.  Greg diligently gathered the supplies we would need to finger feed her at home, and Shawna gave us her super awesome breast pump, which would be essential.  So I knew that we would be able to keep her alive once we got her home!

I'm not sure I have ever felt such a sense of relief.  I felt as light as a feather.  At the same time, my heart felt a thousand times bigger than normal, and it was overflowing with gratitude.  I was so thankful for the loving, competent, patient, well-qualified nurses.  It was a tender time for our family, and their physical and emotional help was invaluable.  I loved each nurse who served us.  Who cares about St. Mary's fancy rooms and yummy milkshakes--it was the amazing nursing staff that made all the difference.

I was also so very grateful for my mom.  She cared for David and Mary, including getting them to school in the morning, which is no small task.  I knew I did not have to worry about David and Mary being taken care of. Trust me, I didn't need one more thing to worry about. I'm also thankful for the time she spent in the hospital room with me.  I could have Sara in the room with me, but only if someone else was there too to monitor Sara at all times.  My mom spent hours sitting in the chair next to Sara.  I am grateful for her support and sympathy.

My heart is also full of gratitude for my friend Shawna.  Our time in the hospital was not a time for casual visitors. It was a busy, intense, but sacred time.  While things were not scary, it wasn't a light-hearted, happy time.  (It would have been an untruth to announce, "Mom and baby are doing well.")  But Shawna was not a casual visitor stopping by to merely wish congratulations.  She came to serve me and Sara.  My heart overflows with gratitude for her quiet, Christ-like service.  It was a tender time for me, and being with Shawna, who has a sweet, tender heart, was a balm for my worried spirit.

Most of all, I am grateful for Greg.  I cannot write about it because I do not know how to express the feelings in my heart.  I married a good, good man.

Finally, after several intense days of working hard together for our Sara, Greg and I would be able to take her home.  All three of us together.

Tuesday was a happy, happy day.

Greg, my hero, holds Sara on Tuesday morning.  After not being able to hold her for three and a half days, we couldn't put her down.  We still can't.

Seven weeks

Sara is seven weeks today.  I celebrated by sitting on the sofa and holding her close all day.  It was a treat, especially after the super busy week this has been.

I took this picture today.  I love baby gowns, how a baby tucks up her legs inside and squeezes herself into a ball.  I love a baby ball.  A newborn baby ball perched on your shoulder is the best.  But le reminded how much I also love little baby feet poking out of the bottom of the gown.  Look at those sweet baby toes.  Love love love.

Two pictures I took on Valentine's Day

Sara is little; Greg is big.

Nothing melts your heart quite like a baby smile.

Real life

I guess you can only ignore the outside world for so long.  Real life is knocking at my door. Thus blogging moves way down on my list of priorities.  Because cuddling with this one is not.

Pajama Day

On Wednesday Mary asked me when her school was going to have Pajama Day.  David had Pajama Day last week.  I broke the news to Mary that her school did not have Pajama Day.  (But one of the many reasons I like her school.)  Her face turned ashen and her jaw dropped.  She was not going to have a Pajama Day!  And she was devastated.

What's a mom to say?  Well, I told her she should ask Anna if she could wear her pajamas to school.  If Anna said yes, then she could invite all the girls in her Extended Day class to wear pajamas too.  And then she had to ask everybody's mom if it was okay, and every single mom had to agree.  Mary said okay, and I put the whole thing out of my mind, assuming it would never happen.

On Thursday--one day later--I picked Mary up from school, and guess what.  She had organized the entire Pajama Day already!  She had talked to Anna, all the girls in her class, and their moms!  Pajama Day was to be the very next day.

On Friday Mary wore her pajamas to school.  As I've mentioned before, when this girl wants something to happen, she gets it done.



P.S.  In the above picture Mary is holding her baby Katie.  Lately Mary has requested that I teach her how to be a mom.  She watches me closely with Sara and wants to help so that she will know what to do when she has her babies.  The last few days, at Mary's request, we have been going through the baby care book we got from the hospital together, and Mary has been practicing on Katie--everything from swaddling, diaper changes, and nail trimming to bathing, nursing holds, and burping.  Mary pointed out that she will probably be a better mom than me.  I told her she definitely would.

Saturday afternoon

A hospital story, part 1: Something good

Now that I have clearly established that I am capable of blogging only about Sara, and now that she has been here for over a month (five weeks!), I am way overdue for ... The Birth Story!

It goes something like this:  Once upon a time, I scheduled an appointment.  Greg and I went to the hospital at the appointed time.  The doctor cut me open, pulled out Sara, and sewed me up.  The end.

Hmmm.  Not much of a story.

But, if you don't mind, I have to tell something!

I admit:  I love to hear women share their birth experiences.  (And don't you love to hear your own mom share about your birth?)  Okay, so maybe there is a tiny element of whatever it is that causes us humans to slow down to stare at a car wreck.  But mostly it is because birth is so beautiful/messy/frightening/painful/joyous/dramatic/mysterious/simple.  There is something about wanting to share in the joy and empathize with the pain.  And there is always, always drama, hence, a story.  A brand new human being comes into the world!  How could there not be drama?  Every birth is exciting and special.

In Sara's case, most of the drama (what there was of it) came after she was born.  So it seems like more of a "hospital story."  As cold and institutional as that sounds, that's what I'm going to call it--"a hospital story."  I have a million details I want to remember, but for now I will set aside 999,997 of them and focus on three things.  (I love the rule of three's.)  I will share something good, something bad, and something ugly.  (No worries--no pictures of the latter!)

First ...

Something Good.  Namely:  I Got to Be Awake.

When David, my first, was born, I had a spinal block with no problem.  When I was in labor with Mary two years later, I requested an epidural.  The anesthesiologist, however, was not able to get it in, meaning she couldn't find any spinal fluid in which to insert the catheter.  She just kept hitting bone.  The doctor tried the epidural three times, and then she attempted a spinal block (which I believe requires a smaller needle?) twice.  She was mystified (and clearly troubled) because she couldn't see any reason why it wouldn't work.  Needless to say, that story ends with my giving birth without pain medication.  But the point is that the next morning the hospital's head anesthesiologist came to see me, and she gave me strict instructions to inform future doctors of what had happened should I ever need another epidural or spinal block.

(By the way, feel free to use me as an example!  Be super annoying and say to your friend who is flippant about her upcoming birth because she plans to get an epidural, "Well, one of my friends totally planned to get an epidural and then it totally wouldn't work and then she had to push for like four hours without any pain relief and she was completely freaking out, so you might want to consider preparing yourself mentally at least a little bit."  Then be even more annoying and hand her the book Birthing from Within, which I truly recommend.  Incidentally, Mary's birth was the worst ... but it made me a believer in "natural" childbirth.  Says the woman who scheduled a C-section for her next birth.  Sigh.)

So when we went to the hospital that morning, all of the nurses, my doctor, and the anesthesiologist (and, most importantly, ME) were well aware that I may have to be put under general anesthesia for this birth.

Here is what happened.  (Oh, and remember this was the only drama involved in the birth, so savor it.)  The anesthesiologist, whom I will henceforth refer to as Dr. K because I will lose my mind if I type " the anesthesiologist" one more time, came marching into the OR in that self-important way doctors have.  (This guy was dripping ego out of his ears.)  He confirmed with me that the last time this had been tried, it had been unsuccessful.

"That didn't happen here at St. Mary's, did it?" he asked.

No, I explained, it had been at a military hospital in Ohio.

"Hmph," he snorted.  "Figures. Well, don't worry. We're better than they are."

(I guess it's nice to know your current anesthesiologist feels competitive with your previous one?)

Precariously balanced on the edge of the cold metal operating table, I curled into an uncomfortable ball, and Dr. K got right to work.

Within half a second, he said, "Ooooh...I see..." with new found understanding.  He could see that those fools in Ohio weren't completely incompetent. There really was something wrong with my spine.  Great.

By this time I was completely resigned to being unconscious during the birth of this baby.  Months earlier I had been terrified of this.  I was scared of being unconscious, and my heart broke when I thought of not meeting my Sara right away.   But slowly, over time, I had adjusted to the possibility.  I reminded myself that gazillions of people survive general anesthesia.  It would be okay if I didn't see Sara the instant she was born.  Greg and I had talked about it, and I knew he would hold her tight and keep her safe.  So by that morning I was completely at peace with not being awake for Sara's birth.

Dr. K, however, was not at peace with that.  Not at all.

He tried and tried and tried again.  I lost count how often he tried.  Maybe six or seven times?  Let's remember that for each attempt there are two needle pokes--one for the local anesthesia and one for the actual spinal block.  So that's a dozen needles in your back.  It is FREAKY.  And this time I didn't have labor pains to distract me from the freaky-ness.

It was tense in the OR as everyone anxiously waited and I strained to stay calm and hunched over.

Eventually, I squeaked out, "Um, how many more times are we trying?"

"Oh, he's just getting started," my doctor assured me.  My heart sank.  Remember, I saw general anesthesia as the inevitable outcome, and, by then, I just wanted to get the show on the road.  But everyone was very committed to this spinal block.

Then Dr. K announced, "I have one more trick up my sleeve."  I wasn't sure how I felt about someone performing tricks on my spinal column ...

And then it worked!

Everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief.  I was laid down, Greg was rushed into the room, the curtain put up, and Dr. K--now my superhero complete with ego, confidence, experience, and sleeve full of tricks--marched out of the room.  I was in shock.  I was going to be awake for Sara's birth.

I was going to be AWAKE for Sara's birth!!

And I was!

Is there a unicorn in my closet?

We have in our home a creature I once believed to be but a myth:

A Baby Who Sleeps

I wonder what other mythical creatures I might find in my house.

Blessing day

Sara was blessed in church at the ripe age of three weeks.  Greg's mom was already here, and his dad joined us here for the weekend.  My dad also flew up for the occasion.  Here are the "official" pictures we took that morning to mark the low-key but special event.

Grandpa Mike, Baby Sara, Greg the Proud Father, Alisa, Grammy and Grandpa.
Mary and David in front.

Our family of five!

Sweet siblings.

Those are some good looking kids, if I do say so myself.

Mama loves Baby.

Sister loves Baby too.  Can you spot Mary's hand?

The little lady herself.  My great-grandmother made the blessing gown for my Aunt Janell's baby blessing.  My dad  was also blessed in the gown.  Then I was many years later.  And then both David and Mary were blessed in the dress.

Grammy made the bonnet from an antique handkerchief for Mary's blessing.  Mary sweetly let us use it for Sara's blessing too.  And the pretty blanket?  I bought that from a very kind woman at the Adana ladies' market in Turkey--and the best part is the little evil eye bead sown into one corner.

Did I mention Sister loves Baby?

A lot!  Sister loves Baby a lot.  (Oh, Sara, thank you for your patience.)

 Sara was blessed by her father in church on January 27.  Both of her grandfathers participated, along with Bishop D. and family friends Todd N. and Chris R.  We are especially grateful for the presence of her grandfathers, that they both traveled from afar to participate in Sara's naming and blessing--to welcome her and a bestow a blessing upon her as she begins her life here on earth.

It was a beautiful blessing.  (Both David and Mary were touched, and David, my little spiritual radar, whispered that he knew Sara was happy.)  Afterwards, Greg held his baby girl tight in his arms for the rest of the service.  Blessing a child must be a special experience for a father. David was blessed in my parents' home, and Mary was blessed in the home of Greg's parents.  This was the first time we have blessed a child at church.  So this was the first time Greg didn't have to immediately give up the baby to a crowd of adoring grandparents and aunts and uncles.  Instead, he was able to sit quietly in church, gaze at the child in his arms, and reflect on the heaven-sent words he had spoken.

Grammy was here

After my mom left, Greg's mom came to take care of us.  Hooray!  I was certainly in better shape by then than I had been when I first came home from the hospital, two weeks earlier.  But I never heal especially fast.  And this time recovering was particularly uncomfortable. (I'll spare you the details.  You're welcome.)  While Greg's schedule is flexible, he still needed to start putting in the hours again on his dissertation.  So, and here comes my point, it was such a blessing to have Grammy here for over a week!

Grammy took care of us and spent time connecting with David and Mary.  She sat at the computer for ages watching David build this and that in Minecraft.  She and David discussed rocks, gems, and arrowheads at length.  They even printed out pictures of favorite gems that David then brought to school to share with his class.  Meanwhile, Grammy secured her role as Mary's mentor in the domestic arts.  They baked and cooked and sewed and crafted.  Mary was in heaven.  It was wonderful!

Best of all, Grammy put in some quality time doing this ...

I'm not a grandma:  But it seems like a nice way to spend a few hours, holding your tiny new grand baby and reading a good book (or watching Downton Abbey).  I think when grandmas come to help after a birth, that's their most important job--holding that baby, snuggling her close, and loving her lots.



P.S.  This isn't the first time Grammy has saved us this year!  It can be especially complicated for her to be gone so long during the school year, since she teaches piano and seminary.  We're grateful for the sacrifices she made to come take care of us!

Twins?

Mary says yes!  They are twins.  Well, says Mary, once Sara grows long hair and her eyes turn brown.  Besides wanting to dress alike, Mary already has plans for the bunk beds they will share.  

In keeping with her role as Helpful Older Twin, Mary made a chart called "Words and Letters Sara Knows" where she diligently keeps track of the words Sara says.  (So far she has said "a," "hi,""oh," and "Mary.")  Whenever Mary is not around, she leaves the clipboard with me so I can keep track  for her.  It is so very Mary.  (And so cute I almost can't stand it!)

Meanwhile, David has been relieved to learn that Sara is certainly NOT Mary's twin.  Mary is kind of a bossy and annoying little sister.  (Think Arthur's little sister D.W.)  David was expecting another little Mary to come home from the hospital.  He is happy to realize that Sara is neither bossy nor annoying!

Maybe Sara is in fact David's twin!  For a week or so she looked exactly like Baby David.  Every time we looked at her, Greg and I thought we were seeing Baby David in pink.  We told David, and he took to calling Sara "Mini Me."

David continues to dote on "Mini Me."  He insists on his Sara Time each evening, holding her and singing her songs.  He is also determined to teach her to talk--and, according to Mary's chart, he has had some success.

Dear Sara

You will know at an early age who you are and what your mission here on earth is.

  You will have compassion for others.  You will be a champion of those in need of love.  

Angels will strengthen you and be with you as you do your work.  

Stats

First Name:  Sara

Middle Name:  Harper

Due Date:  January 10

Birth Date:  January 4, 2013  (According to schedule.)

Born at:  St. Mary's Hospital

Delivered by:  Dr. Bathke

Greg's Birth Weight Guess:  9 lbs 2 oz

Doctor's Birth Weight Guess:  9 lbs 4 oz

Alisa's Birth Weight Guess:  9 lbs 10 oz

Actual Birth Weight:  8 lbs 10 oz  (A lightweight!!)

Birth Length:  20 inches (A shrimp!  In this family, anyway.)

Glucose Levels:  Perfect!

Feet:  "Her feet are huge!"  (Official quote from, well, practically everyone.)

Fingers:  Long, tapered, and elegant  (Piano player?)

Birth Weight at 2 Week Check:  8 lbs 10 oz  (See Actual Birth Weight and cheer!)

Looks Like:  Herself  (And Mary.)  (And David.)

First Smile:  Early!  (We were pretty sure she was really smiling as early as the hospital ... but that can't be possible, right?  But you just know, you know ... and we knew.  Right? Then she surprised the doctor with a smile at her 2 week check!  The doctor confirmed that was a real smile--the doc was pretty excited about it.  And of course it melted her heart.  Sara is already quite the charmer.)

First Laugh:  Yesterday!

Hours Spent Naked Under the Lights in the Hospital (Better Termed:  Hours NOT Being Held and Cuddled and Kissed by Alisa or Greg):  92

Time Spent Fussing or Crying Under the Lights:  None.  (A miracle.  Seriously.)

Hours Spent Under the Lights at Home:  0  (Hooray!!)

Diapers Changed by Alisa During Week One:  0  (Thank you to the nurses, my mom, Shawna, and Greg.  Mostly Greg.  Did I marry a good man, or what?)

Number of Days She Held onto Her Umbilical Cord:  24!  (Thus breaking David and Mary's previous records of 3 weeks.  We're just relieved it fell off before her college graduation.)

Nursing Skills:  Needs Some Improvement

Sleeping Skills:  Excellent (Cue "Hallelujah!" chorus.)

Cuteness Skills:  Through the Roof!

Adored by:  Everybody