Adam's Annual Brain Barf

It has been ages since I contributed to the family blog. I can’t even remember the last time. My life has changed considerably in the last year so I thought I’d get it all down on paper. This is a very long post. I won’t be hurt in the slightest if you give up after the second paragraph ;)

Family – Martha and I had a pretty good thing going this year. I’d normally get home around 6:15. We’d eat dinner and then I’d hang out with Sienna for a while. I’d put her down for the night and then hit the books from 7:30 to 9:30 before calling it a night. I always had homework to do, but evenings were generally quiet and relaxing. Everything changed when Noah was born. Sometimes it seems silly for a parent of two children to go on about how tough it is, especially when I’ve known lots of people who have four, five, or more children. What I’ve learned is that there are no economies of scale when it comes to raising kids. For example, getting 2 kids to fall asleep takes exactly 2x longer than getting one kid to fall asleep… not 1.5x longer or even 1.75x longer. Mr. Noah is a cute little munchkin, but man he can be a pill.

So I may not have learned how to wrestle two kids at once yet, but I have learned something else: Martha is a warrior. I’ll resist the temptation to offer up the usual “my wife is amazing” platitudes. But seriously… my wife is amazing.

Then there’s me. Sometimes I hear people say, “I don’t know where I’d be without my wife.” Well, Martha and the kids were in Utah visiting her family the last ten days, and while she was gone I got a glimpse of what my life would be without her. When I wasn’t working, I was on the couch watching either football or “Parks and Recreation” (thanks to Hulu Plus), all whilst consuming dangerous quantities of bacon. Last Sunday, after my 2^nd NFL game and my 3^rd breakfast sandwich I thought, “What on earth is the point of my life?”

Business School – A little over a year ago I was working as a corporate accountant at a medium sized public software company, consolidating financial statements for their SEC disclosures. My career was going places, but not really to places that I wanted it to go. Not at all, actually. My accountant bosses called themselves “decision makers,” but the only decisions they made concerned whether we were presenting the company’s financial results in accordance with the guidelines established by some government agency. It took me several years to realize that the real decisions were being made by others in the company, and that accountants were there just to organize the effect of those decisions into pretty little reports. When I told this to my friend Peter Harker, he said the best way to become a real decision maker was to get an MBA. He was right.

My first year at Foster was amazing. The professors are great, the classes are awesome, the facilities are beautiful… blah blah blah. The real best part about Foster is getting to know my classmates. It’s a program full of amazing people with incredible skills and huge goals. There’s this once guy, Jason, who is an affable Seahawks-loving Birkenstocks-wearing ex-consultant on the outside, but inside he’s really a freakin’ robot, accomplishing more in a single day than I could hope to achieve in a week. I’ve never met anyone before who can examine a business problem and, seemingly without effort, cut right through the crap and identify what needs to be done.

There’s this woman named Natalia who is one of only two mothers in the program. There are lots of dads at Foster, but only two moms. Respect. How Natalia can juggle school, clubs, case competitions, and an internship search, all while raising the second cutest little girl you’ve ever laid eyes on is beyond me. Hats off to the moms, people!

There’s another guy named Colin whose most amazing talent is omnipresence. As you may or may not know, omnipresence is one of God’s greatest powers: the ability to be everywhere in the universe at once. Colin is not God, but he is omnipresent. The guy has been at every Foster event, both school related and social, since the program started. In fact, just yesterday I went to meet a friend at a bar to watch the UW football game. I walked in and… BAM!... there’s Colin. Omnipresence.

I could go on forever.

Internship – This summer I worked as a Senior Financial Analyst intern at Amazon.com. My first day on the job, my supervisor, a women named Brandi, came and picked me up from orientation. She spent 30 minutes with me going over my summer project. Afterwards I went to my desk to start reading through some documents she had given me. While I was reading, she walked into her boss’s office, announced that she was quitting, went back to her desk, gathered up her things and left. WHAT!? I spent the next week sitting around waiting to be reassigned to a new department. When I did get reassigned, it was to the coolest project I have ever worked on in my life. It was in the “International Category Expansion” team, which evaluates new markets for expansion of the Amazon retail business (which includes everything you’d find at Walmart plus like 10 million other items… seriously). My new boss sat me down and said they needed a 10-year financial model to support the launch in this specific country that they had identified for expansion. I spent the next 3 months gathering data, developing assumptions, building the model, analyzing how the outputs from my model might impact the business team’s expansion strategy, and communicating my recommendations to management. Now I know that this will sound like an exaggeration, but from a professional point of view, this internship was literally the hardest thing I have ever done. But it was also the most rewarding. At the end of the summer I sat in a room with 3 VPs, 3 Directors, and about a half-dozen other interested parties to present my analysis and recommendations. After the presentation, everyone was sort of nodding their heads and generally seeming to agree with my ideas. All I could think was, “If you guys actually think that I know anything about anything, than the joke is on you!” After 25 minutes of questioning I left the room, while everyone else stayed to decide whether to extend a full-time offer. I went straight to a vending machine for a soda to calm my stomach, which was knotted up like the cords behind your TV. All’s well that ends well though. Two weeks later I got a call from HR offering me the job! I can’t wait to be back next summer.

Politics – If you’ve made it this far than you probably actually care about what I think, which is why I’ve left this section for last. Since I’m something of a confused mess when it comes to politics, I like to occasionally write about it, if for no other reason than because doing so helps me sort things out in my mind. Shortly after the 2008 elections I posted an update called “I am not a Republican. There! I said it!” In that post I described my realization that my opinions didn’t seem to line up exactly with either party, and that I would thereafter refer to myself as independent. This was a big step for me, since I come from a very religious and generally conservative background. I am a devout Mormon, and since becoming an independent I have struggled to define the extent to which my religious beliefs should be reflected in my political opinions. Indeed, history is rife with examples of religion coming down on the wrong side of issues both scientific (astronomy, evolutionary biology), and social (slavery, women’s rights, interracial marriage). If history is any indication, then I have to entertain the possibility that following today’s conservative drumbeat on scientific and social issues could be a mistake.

Since becoming an independent, I find myself more and more troubled by the loudest voices on the right. Last week I saw a clip from one of the Republican presidential candidate debates. Brian Williams introduced one of his questions to Rick Perry by stating that “your state has executed 234 more death row inmates than any other governor in modern times.” At this, some people in crowd cheered. Like many people on both the right and the left, I was disgusted by the crowd's reaction. When the cheering stopped, Perry said he'd never lost a night's sleep for any of the executions over which he's presided. At another debate, Wolf Blitzer described a hypothetical healthy 30 year-old who chooses not to get medical insurance, and then gets in a terrible accident. He asks Ron Paul who should pay the medical bills. Someone in the crowd yelled “Let him die!” which led to more cheering. Then Paul said something about how “the churches” will take care of him, but that the government should not. To me, the idea that America's widely fragmented religious institutions could come together to deliver effective mass charity care to the nation's uninsured is a total pipe dream. These two incidences make me wonder why the "party of the Christian right" has such a conspicuous lack of compassion. If Jesus could love the murderer and the adulterer, then why can't we find it in our hearts to care for someone whose worst mistake is not buying medical insurance? Admittedly, the people who cheer in a public debate in support of capital punishment and withholding medical care represent the worst of the far-right, but they seem to be growing both in number and popularity.

I’m also constantly confused on economic issues, but I usually come down with the Dems. My reasoning is that, no matter what they say, both parties spend like crazy, but only one is willing to try to collect the money needed to pay for everything. When it comes to government debt, my favorite conservative talking point is the one about how the federal government should be held to the same financial standards to which hard working American families hold themselves. I have a couple of problems with this. First of all, the personal savings rate in this country is something like 1%, so the average American family is not actually the definition of fiscal prudence. Secondly, the national debt is about 98% of GDP, while any American who owns a home has debt well in excess of his annual earnings. By that measure, the federal government is far more responsible than the average American. Anyway, maybe I read too much Paul Krugman, but I don’t believe the social security fund is about to run out, I don’t believe the U.S. is about to be crushed under the weight of its own debt, and I definitely don’t believe in “trickle-through” economics.

So if it sounds like a Democrat, and smells like a Democrat, but looks like a Mormon… what the heck is it?

Thanks for reading :)

Narrowly Escaping Psychosis

{We are a family of four. Some of us are a little cranky about it.}

Kids. How are yours? Well, mine, thanks for asking, have been driving me bonanzas. (That's a fun way of saying bananas. Sidenote: Adam thinks "a raisin" is a fun way of saying "amazing." Trips me up every time.) I have had many blog posts composed in my head asking, "Why, why, why oh merciful heavens why? Why kids, why? Help me! Why? Kids!!!" Every day has been ostrich day: bury your head in the sand and plow. (I don't know if ostriches actually plow when they're down there, but that's what kind of special ostrich I am: the plowing kind.)

I have been largely mentally unsound. So much so that watching Shawshank Redemption recently made me ENVY prison folk. They get to be alone! They get to hang out with their buddies! They get time to enjoy their little hobbies, like carving chess pieces and holes in the wall for escape! They get to escape! (Spoiler alert.) Even if it means crawling through five football fields of shiz to do so, they get to go free! And for those who are lucky enough to stay behind can look forward to solitary confinement! SOLITARY CONFINEMENT?! YES, PLEASE! If I could only be so blessed to spend my days at Shawshank Prison!

Through all of this two child business I have realized I have not been blessed with a superpower that other mothers of multiple children seem to have. This superpower I will call: High Tolerance for Pure Chaos and Never-ending Insanity. I can deal with food messes but I can't deal with food grime (aka food mess that becomes part of the furniture). I can deal with cartoons but the volume must be almost too low to actually hear. I can have toys out but at night toys must go back in (the nursery). I can have a baby, but that baby needs to sleep for heaven's sake. And stop fussing once in awhile! Geez!

Which brings me to some good news: I do believe we have turned a corner with Noah's sleep. And this, my dear family and friends who care about my mental state, is how I will narrowly escape life-long debilitating psychosis. The last two nights he has gone to sleep around 8 pm. This means from the hours of 8 pm to 10 pm (or if I am feeling fancy, 11 pm), I get to be me. ME! Glorious, alone, quiet, solitary me! And if Adam is home from work at that time (lately it has been 9 pm), then all the better! We get to be WE! Even better than ME! Although I still need some me. Which usually means a hot bubble bath. No music, books, or thinking allowed! In better, more energy-filled days it will mean running. (Oh, how I miss thee, workout!) And, good old Noah, he is pretty good at staying asleep for long stretches at night. He never misses the 5 am wake-up, but if he's feeling fancy he may throw in a 1 am or 3 am wake-up. But none of this every two hour wake-up business that some babies dish. Or that dreadful 11 pm wake-up that was a Sienna classic.

Now, listen, if this is me getting ahead of myself, so be it. I expect things to change. What are babies best at besides coos and smiles and crying? Changing. So, if he puts up a stink and goes to bed at 10 pm tonight? I will be glad I had two nights at 8 pm and just know that they are possible. Knowing that is powerful! Knowledge is power! Yes! And Mr. Noah, I feel like I am finally getting to KNOW you.

Too Lazy for Two

(Noah finally asleep right now after I laid down with him for an hour. We were snoozing nicely until Sienna started yelling "No! NOOOOOO!" from her crib. Two kids! BAH?)

After I had one kid, I thought: how do people have more than one kid? After two, I'm thinking: how do people have more than two? I'm pretty sure there will come a day when I think I'm ready for three. But, friends and family, listen to me. If you care about the well-being and safe-keeping of me, Adam, Sienna, Noah remember this: you MUST, absolutely MUST talk me out of it. Shake me by the shoulders, slap me in the face, step on my toe all while yelling: "NO! Don't do it! You can't handle newborns! They are not for you! Please! For the love of Pete! You must stay on The Pill! It is really for your own good! Please! Pete! Please! Do it for the children!!!!!!! Martha!!!!!!! Pete!!!!!!!!!! Pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaseee!!!"

Seriously, folks, how is it done? Because most days I am just not doing it. I thought I knew how to take care of a newborn since I've done it once before, but I don't. There are not enough miles to walk to make Noah fall asleep. There are not enough muscles in my arms to hold him. There are not enough hours at night in which to sleep. There is not enough patience in my heart to wish he'd stay little forever. How is it done? Really. How?

I'll tell you how it's done. They grow up, that's how it's done. Yes, there are some things about newborns that are easier than toddlers. Noah eats one food. That's his choice, and he likes it. He's pretty portable still. It helps that of all places he likes to sleep, he'll happily take smashed next to me in my Ergo carrier while walking around the playground. As long as I'm holding him and walking (thousands of miles) he's happy. But I would take a toddler over a newborn any day. Sienna can walk, she can talk, she can sing, she can play. She is so fun and so sweet. She knows how to hug and kiss! Please, Noah, start walking and talking soon! That's the only way I am ever going to feel like I can keep you around. Because right now you are just too much dang work. I am lazy, see? And I am tired of being your pack horse.

All Noah, All the Time

Here are some photos of Noah as of late. He is 8 weeks o.d. You could call him Mr. Fussbudget Britches Head.

When Sienna hits the sack, he wakes up. And fusses.

They plans these things, kids do.

And now a few of the sibs.

Can you believe they are related?

I love watching them grow and change. It's amazing.

They are amazing.

I Have Two Hands and Will Now Post Five Pics

We finally made it to that Mariner's game! Noah slept for most of it. He is such a little sweetie.

Sienna's modeling shot. Isn't she a little beauty? She can flash you the most demure little smiles, too. She warms my heart.

Sienna is DYING over this thing called swimming. We've taken her to the real outdoor pool and also a local wading pool several times. She spazzes out with glee over all forms of swimming, even though the wading pool is about 5 inches of water. Adam and I thrill over seeing her so happy. This is the good stuff of parenting.

Noah is definitely a Ware baby. But I also see glimpses of my mom's Giles side in him. I can't wait to see what he will really look like! A miniature Adam, I'm guessing. He is just adorable. He turned six weeks officially last Friday and has been smiling a bit more. Greatness is in store for this boy, I can feel it!

It is a rare evening! Noah went down at 7 pm tonight, the same time as Sienna. Usually 7 pm is when he starts his fuss-fest until 10 or 11 pm. I am going to HURRY and post a couple pictures and give a short update.

It's been a "somewhat summer" here in Seattle. I'm still teaching myself to just be happy with what little sunshine I can get around here instead of being bitter when it goes away. It is a never-ending battle of emotions. Around July 4th we had a glorious four day streak of sun and we lapped it right up. But then July 5th came along with gloom and rain. It put me in a huge funk. Anyway, I'm trying to rise above the never-ending rainy day blues, but when it gets to the middle of July and you still can't count on sunshine, it gets to you. You know? You don't? Well, then I hate you.

Newsflash: having two kids means having twice the work. So obvious yet it never ceases to surprise me when one kid's need is filled and the other kid's need needs filled and then my need needs to be filled and then I just fall over from the fatigue of filling needs. No, it's actually not that bad. I'd say I've actually been doing an okay job with the adjustment. We still get out just as much, I can still keep the house in pretty decent shape (that's a white lie, but just let me keep thinking it), I'm getting okay sleep since Noah and I still snuggle up together all night and I just pat his back until he goes back to slumberland. All in all, I'd say he's a pretty good baby as babies go. He has this mad, grunting man cry. It kind of amuses me whilst breaking my heart. I am trying to enjoy this newborn stage but I cannot deny that I would take a 2 year old over a newborn any day. I just can't wait to enjoy his personality, that's all.

Adam's at Amazon for a summer internship. He's liking it. Like not love. He'll have to tell you about it sometime.

I chopped my hair. I may go more. It's just BUGGING ME.

Noah's awake. The end.

Noah's First Week

Here are some more photos of the hospital and of Noah's first week at home. Hover the pointer over the pictures to see short captions.

Noah's Birth Story

Welcome to the world Baby Noah! We decided to go with Noah Hullinger Ware. As I mentioned in my last post, Adam has had a much stronger opinion on the name choice this time around, so he got his way with both Noah and Hullinger. You're thinking, "But Hullinger is your name. Why were you against it?" Well, I love it as a last name. And I have loved having it as my middle name since I got married. But assigning it to anyone else just didn't really excite me. And I have been trying to act cool and buck tradition and just go with names that sound interesting to me, hence all the "Sutton" and "Pierce" and "Steele" ideas (although I just realized Steele Ware wouldn't work). We didn't do a family name for Sienna's middle name (McCall) because, again, I just wanted it to sound cool and I've thought it would be nice to let my kids have their own names and not be tied to anyone else. Plus, I'm doing my progeny a favor and infusing the family tree with new, different names for them to use if they want to use family names for their kids. Isn't that thoughtful of me? Well, Adam has really liked having his mom's maiden name "MacKay" because it gives him a tie to that side of the family. I consulted my three brothers who all have my mom's maiden name "Giles" for a middle name and they also really liked their names. So, Hullinger won. And I like it. This kid could be named Mud and I'd like it because he is adorable no matter what.

Naming information aside, here are the other vital stats: Born Friday, May 27, 2011 (3 days early) at 4:48 pm. He was 7 lbs 5 oz and 21 inches. Same weight as Sienna, just 2 inches longer.

And now for the story of the birth! I am going to post ALL of it here. Not like last time when I just did the Reader's Digest version. In case you didn't catch that:

DISCLAIMER: THE REMAINDER OF THIS POST WILL CONTAIN TALK ABOUT MY CROTCH, LOTS OF PAIN, AND ONE SWEAR WORD. DON'T READ AHEAD IF THAT WILL MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.

Here goes ...

Friday morning I went to yoga and felt totally normal. I was feeling too normal, like this baby would never actually come because I was feeling so good. I took it extra easy because I had imagined many times that my water broke at yoga and I'd played out the whole scenario of yelping, grabbing my mat and running out as water trickled down my hairy legs. Not to worry, yoga class was uneventful. After yoga, I went to Target for some last minute items. I was headed downstairs (it's a double decker Target) via the elevator for 2 more things (diapers a pink sock monkey for Sienna). A friendly Target employee was chatting it up with me in the elevator and we were having a good laugh over this crusty chunk of bread someone had left on her cart when GUSH, GUSH, GUSH. Nothing like the feeling of wetting your pants in public! I couldn't be sure that this was IT. Last time my water broke after several nights of really painful contractions. Could my water have just broken out of the blue like that? With no warning? Once we were out of the elevator, I quickly abandoned my cart and scooted to the bathroom, dragging Sienna by the hand. She yelled out "candy" as we passed the candy aisle. She LOVES anything to do with hanging out at the potty, so she was a good little girl as I checked my undies. Yep, water breakage. Luckily I was wearing loose, dark workout clothes so no one would be able to tell. My brain started going in every direction but I decided to stay focused and finish the task at hand. Get those 2 items and scat! I knew the next time I'd be at Target I would be dragging TWO kids around. No bueno! Diapers, check. Sock monkeys, all out. I grabbed a sleeve of Rolos to quiet Sienna's unceasing "candy" chant. I checked out and almost wished I could tell the nice young gentleman at the register the significance of what was happening right in front of him. Instead, I tried not to let it show that my head was spinning and my brown cut-off velour yoga pants were wet. Not dripping like I'd imagined, thank goodness, just wet. We made it to the car and I put down my trusty reusable grocery sacks to sit on. Go green! It was almost noon.

At home my brain was telling me, "Call your doctor" but my phobia for getting to the hospital and being waited on while I labored overruled and I went about my business and waited for Adam to get home. I got Sienna lunch and put her down for a nap and start packing our bags. Adam came home from class at 1 pm (he has one morning class on Fridays). I told him, "I think my water broke." He smiled and said, "Really?!" He agreed that we should wait to call the hospital and we fixed some lunch and sat down to think about the rest of the day. He said, "I love having babies with you. It is my favorite thing ever," and we both got a little teary eyed. Awww. We waited another hour and I called DeeDee, the neighbor who was planning to take Sienna. She wigged out and said, "Call your doctor!" I told her I was going to wait another half hour. She just laughed. She was 10 days overdue with her daughter and almost died in childbirth so she cannot fathom my stupidity at WAITING to get the baby out. Around 1:45 pm cramps started happening. On and off every 5 - 10 minutes I was getting low cramps, right in my crotch. I was still confused about whether or not it was labor because they weren't contractions, but they were coming off and on like contractions. They didn't hurt that much, either. For 45 minutes they came regularly so I finally called the nurse and she said to come in. Adam took his time packing a bag and cleaning up lunch. He did the same exact thing last time: loaded the dishwasher so we could come home to a clean kitchen. Good, calm man. I was still really confused and getting really nervous about showing up to the hospital too soon. After all, last time I showed up dilated to a 9, and I really wanted it to be the same thing this time. Adam walked Sienna across the street to DeeDee's and then we hopped in the car and said a prayer.

The ride to the hospital wasn't that bad. I was still just having cramps and doing some medium breathing through them. In between, Adam and I were talking and laughing and lamenting the fact that we would be missing the Mariners/Yankees game that night which was the birthday present I gave Adam a month ago. (I'm actually still peeved we missed that. Trying to get over it.) We arrived at UW Hospital at 3:15 pm. The valet asked, "Is it game time? Good luck!" I ignored him and walked like a woman with a purpose. My focus was on getting up to labor/delivery on the 6th floor without making a scene. No problem because my cramps were still only at the slightly uncomfortable stage. At check-in I said, "Hello. I'm here to ... uh ... deliver." Right about that point is when I started breathing deeper and bending and dancing around and showing that I'm more and more uncomfortable. No one seemed in a hurry or worried, and I even spotted my doctor in the waiting room and she asked, "So your bag of waters broke?" like she's asking, "So you got the McGriddle sandwich?" (which, by the way, became quite the crave-food near the end of my pregnancy). I put on the lovely hospital gown and the nurse checked my cervix. Are you ready for this? SEVEN! I put my fist in the air and proclaimed, "I LOVE MY BODY!" After the word is out, the nurses hurried a bit faster and acted a bit more excited. They moved me to a delivery room and provided a green birth ball just as the cramps were replaced by contractions and were getting stronger. Squatting on that birth ball felt really good as far as relieving pressure and I leaned on Adam's leg and held his hand while I labored for awhile there. I told him how good he smelled. He had on his new aftershave and had just washed his hands and I was really relishing it for some reason. Better to labor with a good-smelling husband than a stinky one, I say.

The delivery room had a nice view of UW football stadium. I loved seeing all the cars and people below just going on about their business. It was calming to think that life was carrying on all around even though time was standing still for me. I was trying not to let the stadium remind me of the baseball game I was about to miss. All for the birth of a baby! Come on! (Those tickets are now going in his baby book to remind him forever that HE OWES US.)

Suddenly I was feeling some urges to PUSH. I announced, "I have to push!" The nurses helped me on the bed and measured again. EIGHT. HUH? LAME! However, they told me to stay there because things should go quickly and I'd be able to push soon. I had some really painful contractions and was super annoyed I was stuck in the bed for them. At this point the anesthesiologist came to my bedside to have a chat. Aren't you a little late, mister? I tried to show him I was in control so he wouldn't recommend an epidural. That's another phobia I have - people taking advantage of me during birth. I had this weird daydream that he would see my pain and when I turned my back go, "AH HA! I KNEW YOU'D NEED THE EPIDURAL!" with a swift stab in my back with the needle. Actually he was really nice and gave my knee a squeeze as he left, like, "I'll be here if you need me, but best of luck if you don't." The resident OB had come in about the same time and introduced herself as Anna. I liked her immediately, especially after I made the weird request that she take some pictures of Adam and me during my next contraction. She said, "That's not weird at all. I photographed my sister's entire birth even though she didn't want me to." That's when I knew, "Anna gets it." (Side note: I had wanted a professional photographer to come document my labor and delivery but decided against it in the end because of the cost and the added stress of having a stranger in the room plus coordinating all the details of getting the photographer there while I was trying to focus on laboring. Maybe someday I'll have a friend or family member do it, but I'm glad it was just Adam and me in there. Too many people would stress me out.)

Anna checked me again and said I was close enough to start pushing, that my cervix just had a little lip left so I'd be fine. My OB, Dr. Sarah Waller had arrived by then and it looked like Anna would be in charge with Dr. Waller on the side for assistance when needed. I guess that's how it works at these university hospitals. Sometimes that bugs me, (like when I've gotten a young, male resident OB coming in to see me) but Anna and Dr. Waller were a great team and I really needed them both throughout the next terrible half hour.

It was 4:20 pm and I started to push. The contractions suddenly went GANGBUSTERS! Yes, imagine a gang of really mean dudes with black, bandit-like handkerchiefs around their heads or mouths, beating up your uterus. They are so mean and I hate them and this is the second time they've shown up to beat the trash out of my insides. Except this time around they were meaner! This birth was proving to be different from Sienna's in two ways: getting to the pushing stage had hardly any buildup and then suddenly the pushing contractions were KILLING ME. It was 4:30 and I had done several big pushes and was already hating life and feeling like the past 10 minutes were an eternity. I wanted to rip the clock off the wall because time was NOT passing. At times I was deep breathing my head off and focusing and staying in control, but more often than not I was yelling and sobbing and saying, "I can't do this! I don't want to do this! I can't do this! I can't do this!" At one point I said, "It feels like I'm pushing a giant turd out of my butt!" Resident Anna said, "That's exactly right. You are going to feel like your butthole is turning inside out." Oddly enough, that visualization really helped me figure out how and where to push. I was realizing that with Sienna's birth the local anesthetic the doctor had used must have really numbed a lot down there so I didn't feel as much, plus the episiotomy she gave me made Sienna slip right out. This time around my birth team was respecting my wishes for no episiotomy and I was regretting it! I could feel so much more this time - the feeling that his head was in fact NOT going to fit through my vagina, the feeling of all the fluids gushing out, the feeling of the doctors putting their fingers up there and stretching me out and putting pressure where I needed to push. All of that feeling was messing with my head. I was regretting being so cavalier about not going with the epidural. It became very clear to me why women love their epidurals.

About 15 minutes into it, Dr. Waller said, "Okay, he's going to be here this next contraction." I looked her square in the eye and said, very seriously, "I LOVE YOU." Well. Nope. Nada. Shame on her! It actually took about 3 or 4 more horrible contractions and about 15 more minutes. The last 5 minutes it felt like baby's head was lodged in my crotch, just sitting there. UGH. It was horrible. I kept chanting, "Baby come out. Baby come out. Baby come out! I hate you, baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Adam's reaction to this half hour of me flipping out was kind of a blank calmness. He wasn't my happy, positive cheerleader from Sienna's birth. He was my warm hand to hold and when I'd look at him, I'd get a weary, "Good job, honey. You're doing great." But I could tell he was as scared as I was. I focused my attention, when I was able, more on the two doctors. They had some tough talk and sometimes I obeyed and sometimes I gave up. "Martha, breathe. You have to calm down. Get your heart rate down. You're doing great." I whole-heartedly did not believe that I was doing great nor did I believe this baby was going to come out. My arms were numb, I was sweating and feverish and on the verge of throwing up. I yelled, "I'm going to throw up, I'm going to throw up," and they gave me a bag - but thank goodness I never did. I'd only had a small bowl of pasta for lunch and was totally starving and was zapped of energy as it was.

When baby boy finally did slither out, I yelled, "OH, SHIT!" I am still not sure why I said that at that particular moment; "shit" isn't even my usual swear word of choice and it seems like more swearing would have been appropriate BEFORE he emerged. I think it was a combination of relief and surprise plus my reaction to how purple he was. They put him on my chest and covered him up in blankets. I was so mad at him, I couldn't even smile for at least 10 minutes. I hated that baby so much. Weird, right? I think people are usually mad at their husbands or doctors or nurses or whatever, but I seriously just hated that stupid baby. Plus, for a good 10 minutes or more the doctors were pushing on my belly to get the placenta out as well as sticking me with needles to numb my crotch so they could stitch up a small tear. I think they poked me 8 times, though, and I kept saying, "OW" and they'd say, "Sorry, sorry, sorry, we're just numbing the area for stitches." They must have numbed it in 8 places, or just went ahead and did stitches before it was numb. I don't know, but dude, I was SO ANNOYED. I just wanted everyone to leave. I was totally depleted and weak and in shock and I wanted to be alone. Finally, everybody did leave and there were two very sweet nurses left cleaning up and doing various checks on the little boy. They took off his blankets and nestled him against my bare skin so he could breastfeed and snuggle. They moved me up to a recovery room and I handed the baby to Adam so I could order some FOOD. I was so, so hungry and even after eating a giant hot turkey sandwich (which turned into kind of a Thanksgiving meal because I ordered mashed potatoes and steamed carrots and it came with cranberry sauce, which was kind of all thrown together on one big plate - YUM) plus like 10 sides and cheesecake with berry coulis, I was still feeling weak. I'd never had that feeling before - of maxing out my physical reserves so much that not even a huge tray of delicious food could restore my energy. It wasn't until the next day that I felt like my body had absorbed all those calories and was ready to move about somewhat normally.

I was in shock / on cloud 9 for the next couple days. I didn't sleep much the first night because I was still processing the birth. Same thing the second night. Noah, however, has not woken up since he was born. Good news: I have finally fallen in love with him. After I got my energy back and snapped out of some of my shock, I was swooning. He is a Sienna replica with a little bit less hair. He is doing all those erratic newborn movements that make him look like a miniature spastic gorilla. He is eating like a champion (when I can get him to wake up) and generally very calm. He does wake up during those witching hours in the evening around 9 pm - 12 midnight. He's more fussy then and cluster feeds a lot. I've been sleeping with him every night since he was born. I'm not sure why except I just sleep better when he's snuggled against me instead of across the room.

It's now nearly a week later and my mind has already glossed over a lot of the bad details of that birth. If I hadn't written it all down in my journal right after, I'd have lost some of it. The thing I'm most surprised and curious about is why it was harder than Sienna's birth. Sienna's birth and the months leading up to it were much more of a spiritual quest/journey. It was something I felt destined for and the whole thing became a huge growing and learning and spiritual growth experience. This time around, I planned to have a natural birth because it went so well the first time. I didn't really prepare much except to study the general conference talk The Atonement Covers All Pain by Elder Kent Richards because when I first heard it, I felt like it had a lot to do with the purpose of pain in birth. I went through my breathing exercises every night for about a month prior. Yoga a couple times a week was a great way to stay limber and focused and strong, plus practice breathing for a full hour. Other than that, my prep was minimal. The only thing that makes sense to me so far is a birth story from the blog Birth Faith that my friend Mim told me about when we were talking about my birth the day it happened. I haven't read the story myself (and Lani, if you're reading this, I can't wait to get over there and read it!) but Mim said it sounded similar to hers in that the pain came on so fast at the end that there was no build up or time to get in a state of being we natural birthers call "Laborland" (like la-la land in which you zone out and really focus at the same time). During labor with Sienna, there was a gradual build up of pain over several days. With Noah, my water broke with no warning, I had some pathetic cramps, and then BOOM I had to push. With Sienna I do feel like I got into Laborland and was able to concentrate really well. With Noah, I felt totally out of control and hysterical. I'm wondering what I will do the next time around ... Having a sweet newborn makes me want about 8 more of these. But having a birth like that has shaken my confidence in natural birth. I mean, I do still think laboring and birthing without drugs is a good ideal for me and has produced good results overall (healthy baby, healthy, fast recovering mama) but I will be less afraid of asking for drugs the next time around, I think. That is, if I show up with enough time to get some. ;)

What Baby's Middle Name will NOT Be...

Naming a baby boy! UGH! I have hated everything about trying to name this little guy. Adam has had a stronger opinion on the name choosing this time around. "My firstborn son! He's my firstborn SON!" For a long time he was stuck on Lucca and I was stuck on Roman. Neither of us was budging. So, we thought, maybe it's not either of those names. Keep thinking. He said, "Well, I've always liked the name Noah a lot." I said, "I have, too. Except I scratched it off my list when it got to trendy." (In 2009 and 2010 it was on the top 10 list of popular baby names according to the Social Security Administration.) I thought about it for a few days and decided it was dumb to worry about what's trendy. Boy names are too hard to choose, I can't worry about trends. We just need to find ONE name we both like and can agree on and go with it. So, that's what we're planning so far. Noah. Noah Ware. No Aware. I really like it. Adam really likes it. So, there you have it: Noah Ware. Fun fact: when I met and started dating Adam I thought he looked a lot like the actor Noah Wyle who, at the time, was in his heyday on ER. Go click on that link. He does, right? I guess the theme with our kids is naming them after actors (you know, Sienna Miller?)

NEXT: A middle name! UGH! I told Adam to come up with something, but I didn't like his one and only choice. So here are the ones I gave to him for consideration:

Noah Truman Ware (My top choice; it reminds me of old people from my ward growing up, which is fine for some reason, even a plus because they were so nice; it reminds Adam of stuffy Ivy league, crew cut, sweater wearing tools. Okay then. NOT Truman.)

Noah Roman Ware (Thought maybe I could squeeze my first name into second place? Nope.)

Noah Charlie Ware (Charlie could be cute or it could be a dog.)

Noah Lucas Ware

Noah Wyatt Ware

Noah Remi Ware

Noah Judas Ware (Adam never got on board with Judas! Can you believe it?)

Noah Sage Ware

Noah Sutton Ware

Noah Pierce Ware

Noah Jonas Ware

Noah KC Ware (Adam's dad.)

Noah John Ware (My dad.)

Noah Phinney Ware (A street and neighborhood in Seattle that I like a lot.)

Noah Jack Ware (Jack could be cute or it could be a dog.)

Noah Seth Ware (What? I can't use ex-boyfriend names??)

Noah Beckett Ware

Noah Steele Ware

Noah Marcus Ware

Noah George Ware

Noah Ranger Ware (I only went on ONE date with a Ranger... so, that's okay, right?)

Well, I have not gotten my way so far. I think we're going with Adam's top choice. Or, maybe one of my choices that is not listed. We are thinking it over still. You'll just have to wait until baby boy gets here to find out what we chose! He is due on Monday but showing no signs of coming. I have been having Braxton-Hicks contractions for the past few months, so nothing new there. He has dropped and his head is resting RIGHT on my bladder. Otherwise, I'd say I'm feeling TOO good to be having a baby soon. I did dream last night that I pushed this baby out with the knowledge that it was Adam's and some ex-girlfriend's baby. I was about to give it up for adoption to that dumb, young couple on Parks & Recreation. But when the guy took it and said something like, "Dude, awesome, we have a baby!" I took it right back and decided to raise the baby myself, even though I would be forever reminded of Adam's ex-girlfriend. I woke up before he told me which girlfriend it was. At least I'm dreaming that it's getting closer! I just hope it doesn't turn out to be someone else'e baby!

Diversions

The final weeks of waiting for a baby to arrive can be torturous. My old friend, Merrilee, came to town last weekend and took my brain out of the waiting game for awhile. Now I need some new diversions this week....

Saturday we met up with Ben and Merrilee and their little guy, Eli, at Pike Place Market. I always love an excuse to go there.

Here's Merrilee, Eli and Ben. They had a similar surprise as us when they had Eli: just WHO does he look like? Not the parents. :)

Birdie still struggles with loud laughter and big crowds. She starts each overwhelming social engagement with a good cry. Here she is on daddy's shoulders getting her cry out.

Adam bought some fresh salmon from the fishmonger (I just like that word). Yum!

Birdie wants UP. She does not think she can use her legs these days. ANNOYING.

She is OB-SESSSSSSED with puddles and any drains with puddles under them. We have to stop and examine every one.

Sewer drain heaven!
This day was jacket weather! It was amazing. I can handle gloom, I think, if I only have to wear a jacket.

Birdie LOooOOOOooOoooves her daddy. Obvious much?

Earlier in the week I met up with Merrilee on Vashon Island where she was staying most of the time while visiting with her in-laws. What a fun adventure for Sienna and me. We took the ferry over (after I got lost for a good hour driving around Seattle/construction trying to locate the right ferry port) and drove to the bottom of the island to the area where they were staying called Tahlequah. They were in a fun, eclectic little beach house. We went on a little excursion to Point Robinson where there was a beach and lighthouse.

The day was GORGEOUS! Jackets even came OFF! And so did Sienna's clothes...

Ah, what a great day! It was so exhausting to keep the Bird from drowning as well as tote her all over the rocks but it was just what I needed to get out of the house and do something different for the day.

And another diversion: pretending my belly is a shelf for holding things and eating from. Fruit snacks, chocolate truffles, water bottles, phones. I do not take for granted this very handy aspect of being impregnated.

It is not enough of a perk to wish impregnation forever.

But for now, I am pleased.