It Takes A Village...

When I joined MOPs (Mothers of Preschoolers) I was a brand new mom. Emery was 4 months old and I had no idea what I was doing. I had one local mom friend- shout out Stephanie! Most of my days I sat at home by myself bored to tears (oh, there were so many tears) and texting my mom begging her to come over.  I was working part time from home which only worked because I made Emery's nap time during my shift. I specifically remember one time sitting on her bedroom floor with one arm through her crib rails patting her little butt and shushing while simultaneously working on the computer with my other hand. I was four months into the whole motherhood thing, dealing with postpartum depression (which nobody liked to talk about) and thinking I had been tricked into having kids. "You'll be such a great mom! Your babies will be so cute! Y'all need to hurry up and have kids already! When are you having kids?" And then, as if they were tricking you into joining their secret hell club all along, I heard these things after Emery was born: "Sucks, huh? You never really knew what tired meant, huh? Just wait until she starts teething! Just wait until she has her first cold! This is so HARD, huh????"

Where the (insert profanity of your choice here) was my TRIBE?? Yeah, clearly it takes a village... Anybody have directions to mine?? I thought when I brought a human into the world little tiki huts would pop up all around me and offer to hold my baby while I used the bathroom by myself?? Who signed me up for this? Are there refunds? Where's all the people that invite me to play dates and girls nights out and point me back to Jesus when the amount of spit up in my home is forcing me to lose my religion?!

Enter MOPS.

You see, MOPs moms don't care if you breastfeed or bottle feed, use disposable diapers or cloth diapers, co-sleep or use duct tape to keep your child in their own room (just an example...ahem), there's no judgement if you show up in your yoga pants or use it as your twice a month occasion to wear full makeup and blowdry your hair. Because at MOPs, everybody is in the same boat. Everybody GETS you. Whether it's celebrating a new pregnancy, or walking through a loss of a precious baby, we're all moms. And moms of littles, to boot! The spit up on your shoulder and coffee stain on your pants are welcome at MOPs. Whether you come to socialize or use it as a 2.5 hour break from your kids with a free breakfast, you're welcome at MOPs. The relationships I have made in the past two years are relationships I know will last. These are my people. 

So, they say it takes a village to raise a child, and I agree. But here's what I've learned: sometimes you have to build that village. Put yourself out there and open your mind/heart/home and reach out to other mamas who are trying to figure it out just like you are. I promise you that you won't regret it.

I'm so excited to be Coordinator of that same MOPs group this year; I know the Lord is going to do BIG things. Come join us!

The Seven Year Itch

"The seven-year itch is a psychological term that suggests that happiness in a relationship declines after around year seven of a marriage. Divorce rates show a trend in couples that, on average, divorce around seven years. Around the seventh year, tensions rise to a point that couples either divorce or adapt to their partner." -Good ole Wikipedia

The "seven year itch" showed up right on cue this year, falling in the midst of a new baby and unemployment. You know the part of the vows that say, "better for worse, for richer for poorer?" Well, we're hitting the worse and poorer side right about now.

When Josh and I were dating, I told him I'd go anywhere with him. I told him I'd live in a crappy apartment and eat spaghettios out of the can if we needed to. What I really meant was that I wanted a story with him. An adventure. Looking back over the course of our marriage we've had just that! From living in a 399 square foot single wide to my grandmas attic, we've made it work! Moved cross country, adopted a dog, bought a house, brought two humans into the world! We've fought and we've laughed and we've seen each other at our worst and best. We've prayed together and cried together. Road trips and flights with an infant, food poisoning, laundry that sits in the dryer for days, sometimes weeks. We've adventured all right.

We've watched many a marriage fall apart in our seven year run, and each time the news comes we hold each other a little tighter. (A lot of the time I cry and say, "PLEASE DON'T EVER LEAVE ME.") And while it breaks our hearts to see friend's marriages crumble, it also gives us a boost and makes us ask the question, "How can we do better? How can we make our marriage last?"

So, here's what we've come up with so far:

Romans 12:10
This is something my parents drilled in me growing up and now it plays a HUGE role in our marriage. Constantly trying to out do each other in honor, constantly putting the other person before yourself.

Understanding Personalities
Josh is an introvert and I'm an extrovert. We learned early on that because of that we have different needs. When Josh is feeling burnt out and needs to "recharge" I know he needs a night alone. However, when I am feeling that way, he knows that I need a night out with friends to recharge! (We took a personality test during our pre-marital counseling and it really helped us start out on the right foot!)

Open Communication
We literally talk about everything. We've learned that the more we talk and talk things out, the less time we have to hold grudges or get mad. We don't keep secrets from each other- we put everything out in the open.

Keep it funny!
We laugh (at each other) A LOT. Josh tells stupid jokes and I mispronounce words just like my mother.

Say It Like You Mean It
We say I love you about a billion times a day. Sounds cheesy, I know, but it's true. Sometimes we even text it from the bathroom. It's the last thing we say to each other before we go to sleep every night. It's super important to us, especially on hard days. Knowing that we're both still in this even when we piss each other off.

Flirt it up, y'all.
This one speaks for itself ;)

So, "seven year itch", BITE ME. Josh, I'd rather be itchy with you than anyone else in the whole world. Happy 7th Anniversary. Here's to many, many more years of us!

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The Birth of Lincoln Taylor

One time, I was pregnant for 294 days.

Lincoln's birth story starts around the 35 week mark. He had dropped so low in my pelvis that I could hardly walk, and he was measuring 3-5 weeks ahead at every appointment. My midwife Michele (who I'm mildly obsessed with) advised I "stay down" AKA bedrest until we hit that 37 week mark. (I was planning an out of hospital birth and state law requires you to be at least 37 weeks) So there I was for two weeks with a toddler on bedrest. My awesome mama came as soon as Josh left for work and stayed until he came home. Two whole weeks I stayed on the couch, thinking he'd come any moment. (Hahahaha) The house was clean, Josh and I had a "baby moon", the nursery was finished, and his clothes were all washed and folded.

Finally, I hit that 37 week mark and I was on pins and needles waiting for labor to start. The only problem was that Lincoln had gotten very comfortable while I had my feet up for two weeks and decided he was fine to hang out a little longer. This is where all the "OMG you're still pregnant?!" comments started. (Spoiler alert: They did not end for FIVE more weeks.)

37 Weeks

Then, when I was 38 weeks, I noticed a "slow leak" one morning. I didn't think anything of it at first, but then it became clear something was happening. After talking to my midwife, she said it sounded like my water broke! I went to bed that night thinking I would wake up in labor. NOPE. The next morning she came over and we swabbed the fluid to test if it was amniotic fluid. It was negative. We were all kinda shocked and kinda bummed, but we carried on the rest of the day. Later that afternoon I felt a leak, so decided to swab with one of the tests Michele left me. Instant positive! I was leaking amniotic fluid, i.e.: my water broke!

We made sure we had everything in the birth bag, called the babysitter (Gma) and waiting for contractions to start. I woke up on Sunday morning fairly early and feeling some cramping. Then the cramping got worse. Then they started coming every few minutes. Finally! We made all the arrangements and headed up to the birthing center. Michele checked me and I was only a one. And then, my contractions stopped. I know, it sounds crazy, but it's true. We stayed for a while, walking the stairs and trying to get labor going to no avail. We were sent home with the (dun dun dun....) castor oil regimen. If you're not familiar with it, castor oil is basically a laxative. It cleans out your bowels and (is supposed to) upset your uterus as well and start labor. Except apparently I have an iron stomach. (Thanks, dad!)

Easter- 39 Weeks 1 Day

The next morning we went for a biophysical ultrasound and Lincoln was perfect. My fluid levels were all normal and he was doing great. We went home and the waiting started all over again.

Two weeks went by and still nothing. I was huge and tired and trying to keep Emery busy. Walking out of the church play place one day at 40 weeks, I fell in the parking lot. I was in shock and trying not to let Emery hit the pavement! I literally had the thought, "oh my gosh I'm falling!" And then hit the ground. When I looked up Emery was standing and staring at me. I burst into tears and a lady came running to help me. She helped me to my car and even buckled Emery in her car seat for me. I just sat and the car and cried. Another trip to the chiropractor and midwife to get Lincoln checked out and then the waiting begin AGAIN. Surely I will go into labor now!

I'm pretty sure I cried every time I saw Michele after that. WHEN IS HE COMING??

The week I was 41 weeks I had my membranes stripped twice- once on Tuesday and then again on Thursday. I was losing pieces of my mucus plug but still wasn't believing he would ever come! Friday morning I was just plain pissed. I took Emery to Celebration (play place) and felt miserable. At one point I took this video. 

She's clearly way to big for this jumper but it allowed me to sit in one spot and keep an eye on her so I just let it happen. I was huge and miserable and people (including strangers!) had been asking me when I was due for FIVE weeks. Off and on I was texting Josh saying I just wanted to go to the hospital and be induced because that was what was going to happen anyways so why prolong it?! He was amazing of course and encouraged me to talk to Michele. I texted her the same thing, adding that my body doesn't know how to go into labor. She immediately shut that down, speaking truth to me over and over. 

It was enough to make me remember the birth I wanted and prayed for and longed for!

I let Emery play until I was convinced she was good and tired, then loaded up and drove to sonic. Sitting and waiting for my (spicy) food, I felt my first contraction. No. Way. I was excited for a second and then tried to brush it off, telling myself I must be sitting weird. Except driving home I felt another one. And another. And by the time I got home I had let myself believe it was finally starting! I texted Josh and (to my surprise) he came home from work. I laughed at him but he said he knew this was it. It was really happening! I didn't tell Michele until around 3. We took Emery for smoothies and then came home, with me having *very* painful but short contractions every 15 minutes or so. Around 6:30 I talked to Michele again, telling her they hurt but I'm still going to bunco!!

At bunco my contractions came every few minutes, enough for all the girls (Love you, ladies!!) to want to start timing them and drive me home! I wouldn't let them do that though, and made it home just to lay down and try to go to sleep around 11. I hadn't been laying down for 10 minutes when I jumped out of bed from pain! The contractions were getting more intense and closer together. I talked with Michele on and off, who told me to get in the tub to see if they would calm down. (Side note: our tubs stopper is broken so Josh has to plug it for me.) I took FOUR baths from midnight to 6am. I would get so relaxed in the water that I thought I could go get in bed and sleep only to have them start back up the moment my head hit the pillow. 

By 6:30 Josh and I were both up and I had already texted my Gma to come stay with Emery. I labored at home for another hour and then headed up the birth center. Michele checked me at 8:30 and I remember being so nervous that I wasn't even dialated so I said, "more than a 4?" And she said, "yes." And I said, "more than a 5?" And she said, "you're a 6!" That gave me a skip in my step, allowing myself to believe it was truly happening. At this point the only people we told was the photographer (who had been on call for six weeks now) and my parents. I told both of them not to come yet. At 10:30 Michele checked me again, and I was an 8. She asked me if I wanted her to break my water and I said yes! At 42 weeks I knew there was a chance he could have already pooped and there could be meconium in the fluid so I immediately asked, "What color is it?!" and Michele responded "Clear!" That was the good news I needed and gave me a little more endurance!

  

After breaking my water I was able to get in the water. They call it "The Midwife's Epidural" or "Aquadural" and boy, are they right! I labored in the water for two hours, each contraction getting harder to bear. In between contractions someone would check Lincoln's heart rate (via Doppler on my stomach) and it was all I had not to slap those beautiful women surrounding me. I vividly remember pushing their hands off my belly! :)

I got the go-ahead to push around 12:30, and it took a few tries and Michele "showing" me where to push but once I felt him actually move down inside my body I got super excited! I remember saying, "He moved!!!!" And they were all like, yeah, that's what is supposed to happen... Hahah! I did this for almost an hour when suddenly the energy in the room changed. Lincoln's head was already showing, but they couldn't find his heartbeat. I 100% believe that in that the Lord protected my thoughts by the distraction of pain. I knew something was wrong but didn't have fear. They tried and tried to find his little heartbeat, (all the while I was cursing that Doppler digging into my belly) but all of a sudden Michele was telling me I needed to get up and get on the bed. I think I might have even laughed at her at this point. "You crazy woman! There is no way I am:

1. Standing up
2. Stepping over the edge of the tub
3. Walking to the bed

But the look on her face said she meant business, so up I went. (With the help of all five of them!)

As soon as I got on the bed, they were able to get his heartbeat, praise the Lord. But he needed to come out right away. I pushed his head out and I remember Josh celebrating, he was so excited! He kept saying, "Babe, he's coming! I can see his head! His head is out!!"

Then, the energy in the room changed again, and I looked at Michele and knew yet again, she meant business. She told me, "He has to come out right now. No more breaks or deep breaths. Just push as hard as you can." Once again the Lord protected me from fear and I just did what I knew I had to do.

At 1:27pm out he came. Michele told me later that he let out a cry and then went limp. She was leaning towards him to give him an emergency breath when he just opened his eyes and looked at her like, "What? I'm cool." She laid him on my chest and I cannot even describe that feeling in that moment. Every single picture from that point on I'm making a terrible face that looks like Beaker from the Muppets. I was in shock and pain and love all at the same time.

He latched within the first five minutes and nursed like a champ, just like his big sister. I think we laid there for a good half hour. (While Michele was working on me!) 

I ended up hemorrhaging pretty bad, just shy of needing a blood transfusion. I'm so thankful that Michele is as knowledgable as she is; I felt so safe under her care. I was given a pitocin shot by sweet Hannah and I remember her telling me it would sting a little so just keep looking at Lincoln. I teased her that it still hurt even when I was looking at him!

Another funny memory I have was at some point after he was born they were trying to move me to sit up on the bed and I got a cramp in my calf. If felt so silly after having an all natural labor/birth that I was complaining about. A Charley Horse! But hey, those things hurt and I couldn't stand up to walk it out!

My mom came in as soon as he was born and laid on the bed with me. I later learned that my dad had to go out and sit on the front porch because he couldn't take hearing me "suffer" as he put it. Such a sweet daddy.

When it was time for the newborn exam everybody gave their guesses for his weight. I was still thinking 9 pounds... boy was I wrong! My little mister weighed 11 pounds, 1 ounce. Holy moly. 

One of the requirements to be released is to go to the restroom. Easy enough, right? Well, I like to keep things interesting. Every time they would get me to walk to the restroom I would pass out. This happened a total of four times. Good stuff. The first time it happened Melissa (Michele's student) was squatting on the floor in front of the toilet asking me really stupid questions to try and keep me alert. I was thinking how dumb it was (thinking I wasn't going to pass out) and the next thing I knew I was waking up! Ha! :) Another one of the times it was Michele on the floor in front of me and I did not recognize her as I was waking up. I just remember staring at her thinking, "Who is that?!" 

Finally, after Pitocin, stitches, an IV of fluids, and a catheter (HA!) I was ready to go home. With strict orders of complete bed rest for the next five days, and some delicious Chlorophyll to drink, (tastes just like grass clippings!) I was on my way. 

I cannot tell you how completely different my recovery was from Emery's birth. Physically and mentally. Even with a baby as big as Lincoln, my VBAC recovery was 10x easier/better than my cesarean. 

I am so, so, so thankful for my midwife. I've said it before, but she is an amazing woman who is living out her calling and being the hands and feet of Jesus. (I love you, Michele!)

Lincoln Taylor Barton
April 16, 2016 at 1:27pm
11 pounds 1 ounce
22.5 inches long

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And if not...

My best friend has a tattoo (that she'll tell you was a mistake) that says, "And if not..." I remember asking her way back when we met what it meant. It comes from Daniel 3 when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are about to be thrown into the fire by that jerk-wad Nebuchadnezzar. They basically tell him that he can do whatever he wants to them, and they still won't worship anybody but God.

Then they tell him that God WILL save them from the flames. BUT! Even if He doesn't, they will still serve HIM.

Six years ago Josh and I moved to Texas with no plans. (Young, wild and free Y'ALL!) We had started a job that you could do anywhere for a company buying gold. We knew nothing about jewelry or sales. Perfect. That job fizzled out (mainly because we're terrible sales people...) Anyways, because we had that job, my uncle mentioned my husband's name when his friends were looking to hire someone for their online jewelry company. He started that summer, worked his way up, and has been there ever since.

Us, six years ago, somewhere between CA and TX

All that to say, my husband found out last Friday that he won't have a job a month from now. While we're thankful for a month's notice, it's hard not to freak out. Things have already been tight since we had our son since I'm not working as much. We've cried a lot,  prayed a lot, and tried not to think the worst. But what if he can't find something? What if we lose our house? Our cars? What if we lose EVERYTHING?

But here's what we've decided to believe: The Lord WILL provide for us. And if not... we'll still serve Him. Our circumstances, belongings, and finances don't determine who we serve.

We are so excited to see what doors He opens next!

The Best Days

"These are the best days of your life."

I'm sure every new mama has heard this line. I've rolled my eyes at it countless times in the past 2 years of my motherhood journey. The most recent time I was told this famous line was from my Gma just last week. For some reason it struck me differently this time, and it's been bouncing around in my head ever since. I realized that I'm always trying to speed everything up; get to the next stage as fast as I can. Just trying to make it until nap time, until my husband gets home, bedtime, the weekend, the baby sleeps all night, the kids start school, we can afford vacation, a nicer car, a bigger house. The list goes on and on and turns into a huge monster that steals joy. But what about right now? My life right now is what I've always wanted. What I dreamed about and prayed for. Why am I always trying to rush it?

Every diaper I change, and spit up explosion I clean, every time I sing that line from that Sugarland song, "we're so broke that it ain't funny", plan a date with my husband around the baby's eating schedule, the days I don't even brush my teeth, whisper, "I love you" to my husband in the dark because we finally got the baby to sleep, sing Wheels On The Bus, ask my toddler what a whale says (it's my favorite) say, "Sit down, get down, give me that," and, "Use your words!" Every time I go to the bathroom with an audience, yell at the barking dog, read a Buzzfeed article while I'm nursing the baby at 4am.

Every load of laundry, sink full of dirty dishes, and dust bunny I sweep. When we have PB&J for dinner...again. Every crayon mark on the furniture, floor, walls, doors, etc. Every time my coffee gets spilled, every runny nose I wipe, when I watch Daniel Tiger instead of Grey's Anatomy. When I use words like, "paci, night night, bye bye, and beep beep." When my #ootd is a nursing tank and maternity leggings.

When my husband knows just how to make me laugh when I feel like I'm drowning in it all.

Every stretch mark, breast pad, and the dark circles under my eyes are pieces of my dream, and I'm letting it slip right by.

One day my life will be very different. I won't have to speed eat my meals. I won't have diapers in my purse, or goldfish on the floorboard of the car. I'll shower more than once a week, (okay maybe that habit started before I had kids) and have a lot less laundry to fold. And maybe someday I'll have a nicer car and a bigger house and we'll go on vacations.

But for right now, I want to embrace it. I don't want to miss anymore moments.

I'm living my dream.

On Your 2nd Birthday...

Dear Emery, 

Today you are two years old. I cannot believe it. I think your second year went by faster than your first! (Probably because I spent most of it chasing you...) You're my little sidekick and I love toting you around (neither one of us do well being in the house for too long.) We kept busy with Mother's Day out, MOPs, and Friday's at Celebration. You are still a great sleeper, and your dad and I know that's a huge blessing. 7pm-7am with a 2.5 hour nap in between, Lord knows you need your rest after not sitting still all.day.long. You are constant movement, chaos, and joy, but you are also strong willed and know what you want and how you want it. I have loved watching you grow this year as you come into your own little personality. Some of our favorite things you do lately are animal noises (I think whale might be my favorite!) how you say "thumbs up dude" while holding up your index fingers, how much you love shoes, your dance moves, putting things on your head and walking around, and your belly laugh. You still throw your food off your tray (or feed it to Ludo) if we don't react to your "all done" quick enough, and you still eat dog food every chance you get, always saying, "mmmmmmm yum!" When you get caught. You say, "Yes, Mom." or "Yes, Daddy." when we get on to you and have recently started saying, "Sorry." I absolutely love being your mom, even on days when you're driving me bonkers. I can't wait to see your bond with Lincoln grow; I know you will be the best (bossy) big sister. 

I love you Emery Kate, thank you for teaching me so much about myself. Happy, happy birthday!

P.S. Sometimes my phone autocorrects "Emery" to "energy" and I have to say, I've never seen anything so accurate.