Monday, July 9, 2012

We're Parents

It’s taken me a while to blog because, as all of you readers know, being a new mom is busy (and tiring).  I can’t believe how much a 5 lb little baby requires…but I LOVE IT! 

Many have asked so here is my birth story:

Sunday, May 27, Jimmy and I were at our friends’ for dinner and games.  We got home at 10pm and I started preparing some things for a BBQ we were hosting for 20 people the following day (Memorial Day). 

10:30 pm my water broke (3 weeks early):  I was in the kitchen making banana bread and I honestly thought I had just come to some pathetic level of pregnancy and couldn’t control my bladder.  Then, in the bathroom I realized “wait—my water just broke!”  (Jimmy started freaking out and we even called the hospital asking them if this meant we were suppose to go to the hospital and if we were having the baby tonight.  They guy responded with a pathetic “yes.”)

Midnight:  By midnight we were all checked into the hospital, I was in the delivery room and my contractions began.  I remember asking tons of my mom-friends how I would know the difference between Braxton Hicks and real contractions.  I laugh now looking back.  Yeah…there is a DEFINATE DIFFERENCE. 

4am:  Got epidural and almost thought of naming my son after the man who invented it!  Jk.

8am:  After an hour of labor, Trevor James Robison was born.  18.5inches, 5lb 6oz
(If you'd like the "laugh out loud" version of our first few days home, check out my mom's blogpost)

Here's Trevor a few minutes after he was born.

The happy new grandma

 Just a little bigger than an ipad
The proud dad

Friday, May 18, 2012

9 months in pictures

The last 9 months have felt like 9 years.  Just sayin...

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Friday, April 20, 2012

10 Things you may not know about Jimmy

10. He brushes his teeth 3 times a day, at least!

9. He always kneels when he prays.

8. He never makes me take out the trash or clean the bathroom.

7. He always opens my door. Always!

6. He talks to our unborn son, and kisses him goodbye.

5. When I’m being annoying he looks at me and instead of saying something mean he says, “You’re cute”

4. He can read my mind, sometimes to the point where it frustrates me.

3. He loves to surprise me, but can’t keep surprises/secrets.

2. He loves to hold my hand in the car.

1. He’s a romantic & writes me love letters, & his shoes ALWAYS have to match his outfit, even his flip flops & he loves YouTube videos & he gets asked weekly at the gym how he got his calves so big & he worries about balding & he is a great public speaker & loves Karaoke & he gives me 9/10 of the closet and doesn’t complain & he only buys what we NEED and rarely what he wants & he loves to coupon shop & carries me upstairs when I’m sick & he’s a cuddler…the list goes on and on. AND…

…I love him. Happy 4th anniversary Jimmy!

Monday, March 19, 2012

My Tender Angels

It’s HAPPY TIME for me and my pregnancy. The worst is over and leg cramps, swollen ankles, and 30 extra pounds will never be complained about from this girl. I’m glad to say that I finally have my personality back, I’m happy and optimistic again, and Jimmy and I can’t get enough of our little buddy moving at all hours of the night.

I wanted to bring you into an intimate part of the first 4 months of my pregnancy and the tender moments that still bring tears to my eyes.

Dad: Before work every morning he’d make me a pot of oatmeal, with extra brown sugar and leave it on the stove. I can’t count the times he came into my bedroom in the middle of the night and just held me as I sobbed. One particularly difficult night, I was too weak to feed myself. The image will be stuck with me forever of my dad feeding me oatmeal, bite by bite, and spooning peppermint tea into my mouth after blowing on it because it was hot. He said, “Oh man I remember doing this with your mom.” Another sweet image.

Zachary: Before seminary Z would leave juice or chopped up fruit on my “spot” on the couch so that I could eat something quickly right when I woke up. He also spent many nights tickling my back so that I would fall asleep before I threw up, even though he had seminary at 6am. And if I ever had a craving, Z would leave school and go get it for me. What 17 year old boy does this?

Tyler: T didn’t really know how to help, but was my sweetie. He’d just sit next to me on the couch and put my legs on his lap and rub them (even though they were unshaved). Or he’d play Uno with me. And he’d watch girly shows like “Say Yes to the Dress, Toddlers and Tiaras, What Not to Wear, Bridezillas, Bachelor, etc.” 15 year-old stud.

Mom: Where to begin? How about feeding me every 10 minutes and planning her whole schedule around my eating/ vomiting/ sleeping routine. Comforting me every time I had a breakdown. Convincing me it was worth it. Teaching me how to manage it and hold back vomits. Emptying hundreds of vomit bowls. Keeping me mentally sane. Listening to me vent. This list goes on forever. She earned her ticket to the celestial kingdom (as if she didn’t already have one)…

Jimmy: A husband suffers when he realizes he can’t “fix” a problem. Here’s to my husband who lived apart from me for 3 months, who held my hair throughout the night every time I threw up and would tickle my back to get me to fall asleep quickly; who brought me breakfast in bed for 2 months after I’d throw up in the morning; who’d put Listerine in his nostrils because I couldn’t stand nose-breath smell, who’d go on dates with me in a wheelchair, and who created this little boy who we can’t wait to meet.

Every night I’d pray for angels to bear me up—and looking back I realize I was surrounded by them the whole time. How do you thank someone for all this? No…seriously?

There were many more of you who brought me treats, texted, visited, flew on an airplane with me, wrote to me, cleaned for me, walked Roxy, fed Jimmy…and I’ve prayed for you by name. I’m your advocate forever!

Cheers to a great final tri-mester!

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

19 Weeks

Thought I'd give you the last 3 months in pictures. At the time the picture were taken on various nights, it was 8pm, and I was trying to walk from the couch to my bed. I told her to "stop" in between vomits, but she said, "Show these to Jimmy when he wants to get cozy..."

This is what happens when you move...

This has been my spot for...months. Lovely complexion

This picture tells it like it is. It makes me cry.

This is too hard...

To change the mood:

Another HG sufferer sent me this jewel to make me laugh (and cry). I just had to share it. If you've had HG or have had to take care of me, you're are also laughing and crying.

You know you've had Hyperemesis Gravidarum if:
- IV's full of fluid dripping into your arm are a cause of joy and celebration

- for the first time in your life you actually WANT to gain weight

- you've nicknamed the toilet

- putting on only a shirt and brushing your teeth constitutes the bulk of your grooming on a GOOD day

- your leg hair is so long that its not scratchy anymore

- you choose foods based not on how they taste going down, but how they taste coming back up

- you feel an intense desire and longing to strangle whomever next tells you to eat a cracker (or other equally impossible thing)

- Puking under 10 times/day is a BIG accomplishment

- The pharmacist knows you by name and is also counting down your pregnancy.

- your neighbors are not surprised to see you puking/spitting in the bushes anymore after every car trip

- your husband strips his clothes off before coming in the door because you can smell him a mile away

- your sink is overflowing with "spit cups"

- thanks to zofran you can have one tiny little rabbit poo every 2weeks-and that is an accomplishment-and the reward comes with a tube of preparation H!

- There is a pillow and a blanket in your bathroom

- Your husband is no longer allowed to poop in "your" toilet

- You know you have HG when you can MULTITASK ! Magically you puke, pee, snot, and cry all at the same time ! Add this one to my resume.

The worst part about the above, is they aren't exaggerated. Mom and I both cried after laughing.

The bottom of my vomit bowl