tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-193975832024-03-16T19:52:37.812+01:00Sunny Side Up in an Upside Down World<b>My place to vent the frustrations of living in a frustrating world.</b>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.comBlogger832125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-82957536155750798042019-01-12T19:47:00.001+01:002019-01-12T19:47:22.142+01:00Is anyone still out there? <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I've been thinking about starting this back up again. I miss writing - it's therapeutic for me. I wonder if anyone is still reading blogs anymore? </span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-67279373383061514152015-09-21T16:45:00.002+02:002015-09-21T16:45:51.403+02:00Blue or Pink...what do you think? <span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Even though we are happily Team Green, it's still fun to wonder and try to predict the gender of this baby. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here are the results of some of the Old Wives' Tales for gender prediction:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Heart Rate - <span style="color: magenta;">GIRL</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>If you're above 140 it's a girl, below it's a boy. </i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At 16 weeks our baby's heart rate was 157. At 28 weeks it was 156. At 32 weeks it was 160. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Cravings - <span style="color: magenta;">GIRL</span> & <span style="color: blue;">BOY</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Craving meat, cheese, sour or salty stuff means boy - craving fruit and sweets means girl. </i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've been craving sour candy and fruit, as well as cheese & salty chips. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Chinese Gender Calendar - <span style="color: magenta;">GIRL</span> or <span style="color: blue;">BOY</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">According to <a href="http://www.babycenter.com/chinese-gender-predictor" target="_blank">THIS</a> calendar it's a boy. But according to <a href="http://www.prokerala.com/kids/baby-gender/chinese-pregnancy-gender-chart.php" target="_blank">THIS</a> one <i>(which goes off Chinese lunar age)</i> it could be either...our conception date <i>(which I don't know)</i> would have been right at the overlap. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Break outs - <span style="color: magenta;">GIRL</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>This legend says that a girl in the womb steals her mother's beauty...the reason behind the breakouts. </i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I have felt like a teenage girl again at times...embarrassing!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Morning Sickness - <span style="color: magenta;">GIRL</span></b></span></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Queasy first trimester? That means girl. Little or no sickness points to boy.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I was really nauseous until about 15/16 weeks...and then it made a revival for a few weeks around 20/22.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Carrying Position - </b></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: blue;">BOY</span></b></span></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If you are carrying the baby high it's supposedly a girl, carrying low is a boy.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This baby is so low I can't sit with my legs together...when this baby drops it's likely to just fall out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Watermelon or Basketball? - </b></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: blue;">BOY</span></b></span></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Does it look like you're smuggling a watermelon or a basketball under that shirt? Watermelon means girl, basketball means boy.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am smuggling a giant basketball over here!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Headaches - <span style="color: blue;">BOY</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Lots of headaches? Baby boy is to blame.</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I had a lot of headaches my first trimester...they've tapered off a bit. </span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Cowlick Position - </span></span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: blue;">BOY</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Several European cultures believe that if a child's cowlick is in the middle of his/her head the next child will be a girl, if the cowlick is to the side it will be a boy. </i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Amelia's cowlick is on the side. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Baby Center Survey - </span></span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: magenta;">GIRL</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><a href="http://www.babycentre.co.uk/q1029841/baby-gender-predictor-boy-or-girl" target="_blank">This super scientific survey</a> on BabyCenter asked a bunch of questions about stress and age and time of year, etc. </i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">According to them? Girl. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Parents.com Survey - </span></span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: blue;">BOY</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><a href="http://www.parents.com/pregnancy/signs/quiz/baby-gender-prediction/" target="_blank">Another batch of question</a>s about conception, pregnancy, etc. </i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">According to them? Boy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At first Miles told us it was a brother - I was only 7 or 8 weeks at the time. But only once or twice...since then he's held firm in it being a sister. When you ask him how many sisters he has - he says "two sisters!" I have felt both boy and girl vibes at some point, but as the pregnancy went on I am leaning more towards feeling it's a boy. BUT I have had two dreams where it's a girl. My Italian "mamma" who we jokingly call the Pregnancy Oracle says it's a boy. In fact, she told me when I was pregnant WITH AMELIA that I would get pregnant again before we left Italy and that it would be a boy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So...<span style="color: blue;">BLUE</span> or <span style="color: magenta;">PINK</span></span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>What do YOU think??</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Enter your hunch <a href="http://www.whatsinmybelly.com/index.php?page=Pool&action=manual_prediction&pid=8978" target="_blank">HERE</a> for a chance to win a box of Italian goodies! </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">(password is music)</span> </i></span></span></div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-33474947354457964722015-05-05T11:17:00.001+02:002015-05-05T11:17:27.510+02:00Team Green<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Last week we posted a weekly update on our little baby, and announced that we were going Team Green for this one. What's Team Green? Well...it's basically going old fashioned. You wait until the baby is born for you to find out if it's a boy or a girl. I've had a few friends do that in the past...but I always thought "<i><b>The surprise would be so fun, but I could NEVER do that! How do you plan? How do you prep a nursery?!"</b></i> I am a planner. I like to know all the details, well in advance and play out every possible scenario. Italy has helped me a little in that area because planning here just doesn't happen. And even if it does - it all changes anyway. So I've learned to go with the flow, fly by the seat of my pants, and be calm. Va bene!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When we first found out I was pregnant again I toyed with the idea of waiting...but quickly dismissed it. But the more I've thought about it, it really is a smart choice. All our house will be packed up and shipped off before the baby comes. So there will be no nursery to prepare, not clothes to stockpile. All that we keep will have to go with us in suitcases when we fly back to the states for the move. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There is no other time where it all would have worked so perfectly...and I'm excited for the surprise!! We have a few people who have told us already they think it's a boy or a girl...and I'll do some of the old wives tales' to see just for fun. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But for now - yay Team Green!! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsY5ejVvNzQh1WMKZtA8dWdLM-xmsIZ0QxpDhcppCqzOysEuLD6Nw9GKP8uUP9yZsvFNseHU9ocp760jJCxo4P4hZLOumN_94FaF7sbIRoRWs_SL25M1XEf_etYsSAuep8dO_/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-05-05+at+11.01.56+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsY5ejVvNzQh1WMKZtA8dWdLM-xmsIZ0QxpDhcppCqzOysEuLD6Nw9GKP8uUP9yZsvFNseHU9ocp760jJCxo4P4hZLOumN_94FaF7sbIRoRWs_SL25M1XEf_etYsSAuep8dO_/s640/Screen+Shot+2015-05-05+at+11.01.56+AM.png" width="422" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-47907765489184497432015-04-18T16:00:00.000+02:002015-05-05T11:04:56.232+02:00Miracle #3!<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We were given the shock of all shocks when back in February we learned we would be having another baby. We kept it mostly quiet - only telling close family & friends - until today! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This little one will come in a hectic time in our lives, with our trans-Atlantic move just weeks later - but we will gladly take the crazy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I can't believe we will be a family of FIVE!! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-21651710282235560522014-03-24T20:49:00.000+01:002014-03-24T20:49:42.836+01:00The Arrival of Miss Amelia Dawn<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(some of this may be a little TMI...and it is long...and picture heavy...you've been warned) </i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Tuesday
March 4th I woke up like any normal day, to the sounds of "MOMMY,
MOMMY" coming from Miles' room. I got up, got him dressed, fed, and
ready for school. It was Fat Tuesday and he was supposed to dress in
costume for Carnevale and bring a snack to share. Nathan had helped and
we'd cooked mini bagel pizzas the night before <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(they asked the AMERICAN to bring pizza to the party...funny huh?!)</i></span>
so I wouldn't have much prep that morning. I had a few contractions
during the hour or so pre-school rush, but didn't think much of them.
After I dropped him off I came home, had breakfast, showered and settled
in for a bit of a rest. Afterall I was 40+ weeks pregnant and sleeping
HORRIBLY and I took every advantage of a quiet house to sneak in a
nap. While I was trying to wade off to sleep I noticed the contractions
weren't stopping. They weren't regular or very intense, but they were
enough of an <span style="font-size: small;"><b>annoyance</b></span> for me to wonder if
this could be it. After trying to sleep for an hour I decided I had
better get up and get some things in order, <span style="font-size: large;">just in case</span>.
I also had to pick Miles up at 12...it was a short day. Apparently
teaching after three hours of partying and pumping kids full of treats
is too much for his teachers, so they sent the kids home early...haha
parents, enjoy! I picked up the house, did the dishes, all while the
contractions began to be a bit more regular and slightly more intense.
When Nathan checked on me later in the morning - which he had started
doing the week previous - I told him about the contractions and that it
*could* be the day, but not to get too excited. At noon I picked Miles
up from school. The nuns and teachers asked how I was feeling and when
I told them I was due the week before they were all surprised I was
still up and about...and all commented on the size of my <span style="font-size: large;"><b>"giant belly"</b></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span>(their words)</i></span>.
I wished them all good afternoon and see you tomorrows. I got Miles
home and down for a nap, and I made a list of everything I wanted to do
that afternoon. My brain was growing fuzzy from contractions and
functioning on a lack of sleep. Nathan got home and saw me pausing to
breathe through contractions while vacuuming and realized I was sort of
in panic mode. He saw my list and without a word, jumped in to help. I
had wanted our house to be clean when we went to have the baby...so we
would come home to a clean house. But keeping a house clean with a
toddler, a husband, and two cats is tricky! Litter box, water fountain,
dishes, laundry, bathrooms, etc, etc, etc. I was worried the
contractions would stall out or stop, so Nathan and I went about trying
to seal the deal...if you know what I mean. Within about 20 minutes <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(6pm Tuesday)</i></span> they picked up intensity and had regulated to about 3-4 minutes apart. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We
had made plans to BBQ that night for dinner with our friend Greg, and I
didn't want to cancel. Plus the hospital doesn't want to see you until
you've been having contractions 4 minutes apart for 2 hours. Shortly
after 6 Greg walks in and first thing he says is <span style="font-size: large;">"you had that baby yet?"</span>...and
he is surprised when I tell him I've been having contractions all day.
We BBQ our brats and hot dogs, and I eat in-between contractions,
keeping them timed on my phone. By 8pm I realized they weren't going
anywhere...we told Greg he had to go and we called Lina & Mimmo <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(our Italian "parents") </i></span>and
told them we were going to bring Miles over and head to the hospital.
Nathan ran him over and I grabbed a few last minute things, and went
around the house to turn off all our electronics, lock all our windows,
and make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNiAhiOyDS94xATKWpP7onhnoZ0xeiqDIN9dN7bPuO4E459FwdwCilxp9Xs4mCwz_izHg8i0Xo-6at1Bd2kgMgsMKgHYN16W3CK7qAR1Vubd07iz5RAcQJnPB6yK8o6MbncWUz/s1600/byeMiles.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNiAhiOyDS94xATKWpP7onhnoZ0xeiqDIN9dN7bPuO4E459FwdwCilxp9Xs4mCwz_izHg8i0Xo-6at1Bd2kgMgsMKgHYN16W3CK7qAR1Vubd07iz5RAcQJnPB6yK8o6MbncWUz/s1600/byeMiles.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Saying
good-bye to Miles before daddy took him to Lina & Mimmo's. I wept,
knowing our lives would never be the same and his little world was
about to be rocked. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtmEkUSDx8roGg4SDTOmOHs3d8sbI1FDB8loTkzqHhdwAcjwl1tRxiVNDaJ-mKs53WmsnAzPb6RQiB3oBnmYsLrZAzDOUjAZ98jwVxqBHXjdwKPrQ7sPz1wnNAFIJ-JiZt3yK/s1600/night1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtmEkUSDx8roGg4SDTOmOHs3d8sbI1FDB8loTkzqHhdwAcjwl1tRxiVNDaJ-mKs53WmsnAzPb6RQiB3oBnmYsLrZAzDOUjAZ98jwVxqBHXjdwKPrQ7sPz1wnNAFIJ-JiZt3yK/s1600/night1.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Getting monitored night #1</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> We
got to the hospital and I got hooked up to the monitors. After an
hour of monitoring and an internal check the nurses told me I was still <span style="font-size: large;">only 2cm dilated</span> and <span style="font-size: large;">baby wasn't engaged</span>
at all...so they couldn't keep me. They told me I could walk around
the base to try to move things along and then come back and they'd check
me again...but the thought of wandering the base at midnight didn't
appeal to me so we went home. I also knew I'd been 2cm dilated for
three weeks and a couple hours of walking was unlikely to change
things...given all we'd done in the three previous weeks to move things
along. I cried the whole way home...wincing in pain through the
contractions as Nathan tried to navigate the super bumpy roads on our 40
minute drive. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We
decided to leave Miles at Lina & Mimmo's for the night so I could
try and rest, and in case we needed to leave again. We got home and I
thought I'd try to sleep...that was impossible. The contractions were
now 2 mins apart and tough enough that I couldn't talk through them.
Slow, deep breathing....in, out, in, out...is all I could do to get
relief. I took several searing hot showers, they seemed to help a
little...or at least they distracted me enough to seem like they
helped. As the night and morning wore on, the contractions slowly moved
from 2-3 mins apart to 4-5 and then 6-8...still strong and rhythmic,
just further apart. In all those hours I never slept longer than the
minutes in-between contractions. I called the OB office at noon, and
my doc called back at 4. I <span style="font-size: large;">begged</span> him in tears
for a magic pill that would make things go. He told me I could come in
and get checked, but if I wasn't 4cm they wouldn't admit me...as it
would be best to stay and labor at home. He was very compassionate and
told me he wished there was something he could do...and told me he was
sure what I was going through would eventually lead to delivery, but
could last for a couple days to a week. I hung up feeling <span style="font-size: large;">totally defeated</span>.
I knew we could drive back up right then and be checked...but I also
knew if we did and I was still 2cm, the drive home a second time would
break me. I didn't want to go back until I was <span style="font-size: large;">100% sure</span>
they would let me stay. I sobbed in bed praying that something would
happen to let me know when it was time to go. I decided a warm bath
would help me calm down a bit. As I stepped into the tub I noticed a
couple small drops trickle down my leg...they were yellowish brown and I
thought "I need to drink more water, I must be really dehydrated". </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqbZz7nevebvhR1oO8dufmaxzGpANjfCRIJ5I2gO8bzD5UQGn3n_NBKdmnZWjhVYu_KogR3Ilb15dBEUuUgd28P6uS4g8DR1OVbtEdCb82OjlyI-SUPoonE8UAbXgnsUg66cV/s1600/mariobath.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqbZz7nevebvhR1oO8dufmaxzGpANjfCRIJ5I2gO8bzD5UQGn3n_NBKdmnZWjhVYu_KogR3Ilb15dBEUuUgd28P6uS4g8DR1OVbtEdCb82OjlyI-SUPoonE8UAbXgnsUg66cV/s1600/mariobath.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Mario checking on me during my bath</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After
the bath I settled back into bed and sobbed through contractions for
another 5 hours. They were now so erratic. Some were coming 2 mins
apart and others would wait 15 minutes. But they were long...60-90
seconds...and intense. I tearfully pleaded to God for him to <span style="font-size: large;">intervene</span>...I
couldn't do it alone anymore. At 10pm I had a contraction that made me
see stars...it was over two minutes and the most painful one yet.
After it finished I felt a small trickle and thought <b><span style="font-size: large;">"oh great, in addition to all this now I peed myself"</span></b>.
I rolled out of bed to go change my undies and a little more came out.
Three steps to the hallway and then a LOT came out, soaked the pad I
was wearing, and ran down my leg <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(thank heavens for tile floors!)</i></span>.
I yelled for Nathan and told him I thought my water just broke. I
pulled down my pants and checked, but it wasn't what I expected. It
wasn't the clear, sweet smelling liquid many of my google searches had
told me to expect. It was yellowish brown and full of floaters...and it
stunk. <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(sorry...I warned you about this being TMI)</span></i>.
I called Labor & Delivery and told them, they said it could be that
baby had pooped in the womb, but that it definitely sounded like my
water broke and to come in to get checked out. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We got in the car and made the 40 minute drive back to the base. That drive was <span style="font-size: large;">rough</span>...the
contractions were now every 2-8 minutes and quite painful. And Italy
doesn't pave roads very well...poor Nathan probably felt like he was
navigating through roadside bombs. We got back to Labor & Delivery,
got an exam and they ran an AmnioSure test <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(the same one I had back at 34 weeks)</i></span>
to see if my water had broken. The test came back negative - meaning
my water hadn't broken - but the nurse was confused because she was
seeing what was CLEARLY amniotic fluid with meconium constantly
leaking. They called my doctor to have him come over and consult...it
was now 1am. I joked with him when he walked in the room that he should
have had me come in at 4 that afternoon. He did a cervical check and I
was <span style="font-size: large;"><b>4cm, 50% effaced and baby was at -2 station</b></span>.
That plus the fact that my water had broken was enough for them to
admit me. He grabbed the ultrasound to check fluid levels and the
baby's position. Fluids were fine, baby was sunny-side up. That would
mean a tougher delivery...but there was still a chance the contractions
could flip her. The meconium wasn't too much of a concern, but it
definitely put an <i><b>"expiration date" </b></i>on how long I could labor before they worried about infection. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_CkcaM81WyS_V41zDPzgUT-RnzeNnqZY-R2ifxasc4puHN0aSUxS80-jcYzdpwtCrzSx5HpmJQANxyAlEuD-oQfP5dvhmOitaTeK1jJCT3k88uKpGjmnxHw0UMtWKkanrIJFt/s1600/night2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_CkcaM81WyS_V41zDPzgUT-RnzeNnqZY-R2ifxasc4puHN0aSUxS80-jcYzdpwtCrzSx5HpmJQANxyAlEuD-oQfP5dvhmOitaTeK1jJCT3k88uKpGjmnxHw0UMtWKkanrIJFt/s1600/night2.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Getting monitored night #2</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My contractions were still varying at 2-6 minutes apart. I got to our room, and the nurses and corpsmen <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(like nurse assistants...Navy lingo)</i></span> went about trying to get an IV in me. Ya...I have got some bad veins. It took <span style="font-size: large;">four</span> of them an <span style="font-size: large;">hour</span> and <span style="font-size: large;">six</span> needle sticks and <span style="font-size: large;">two</span>
blown valves to get an IV in place. They started me on fluids and a
little bit of morphine...which was such a welcome thing after having
contractions for 32 hours with only Tylenol and hot showers to soothe
the pain. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0t9A_18lOLsW5GWmCffzUQrkExAcJO98RMZ2gzZpFSWEjzwxfUnCkm3j5kJq969kp0QrJgWcfw93wTV1T37GX7aTvw1in2KFvbX3uUeqvPeCnnx7czwAEpjXVnsMb_Jc5S96/s1600/admitted.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0t9A_18lOLsW5GWmCffzUQrkExAcJO98RMZ2gzZpFSWEjzwxfUnCkm3j5kJq969kp0QrJgWcfw93wTV1T37GX7aTvw1in2KFvbX3uUeqvPeCnnx7czwAEpjXVnsMb_Jc5S96/s1600/admitted.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">2:15am - Admitted & IV'd. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">They
encouraged me to be up and walk, or use the yoga ball to let gravity
help move the baby down...and the doc said he'd be back in a few hours
to check my progress. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At
6am I was checked and had dilated to a 6, was now 80% effaced but baby
was still at -2. We talked a little about epidurals but I wanted to
keep going without one. I was handling the pain well enough with
breathing and I didn't want to jump to the epidural too quickly. My
doctor and the nurses all told me <span style="font-size: large;">I was doing so great with the pain</span>, they thought I could definitely go all the way without anything but morphine if I wanted. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UtQr9BHzI1ZpyFZjh8iY-Q_ZVSO1uF2nto1_5hDcVuvl5Tkf7YuaMa7xT5MVqp6waX9W2MlCLgvKQJ-5l3vVFBTZ4IY9IQ4wQJPf65iM0hCxXRQADzxhGtcr4_PjkxS6meJk/s1600/DSCN1710.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6UtQr9BHzI1ZpyFZjh8iY-Q_ZVSO1uF2nto1_5hDcVuvl5Tkf7YuaMa7xT5MVqp6waX9W2MlCLgvKQJ-5l3vVFBTZ4IY9IQ4wQJPf65iM0hCxXRQADzxhGtcr4_PjkxS6meJk/s1600/DSCN1710.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Awesome socks huh?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQq4_jH6UWaC_x6FX0PFrE65qnTNZ7wHxMMOiw2kvfkiuKf6OnnUusAr4mHtPQ_qqhGLMxKC13oA1Rwfpa3JShkmqhVvUpv42TLkcVlrFSOycJR7yGMXAwo7rCPeeAGj9IjGY/s1600/DSCN1707.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQq4_jH6UWaC_x6FX0PFrE65qnTNZ7wHxMMOiw2kvfkiuKf6OnnUusAr4mHtPQ_qqhGLMxKC13oA1Rwfpa3JShkmqhVvUpv42TLkcVlrFSOycJR7yGMXAwo7rCPeeAGj9IjGY/s1600/DSCN1707.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Jello for breakfast - yummy!!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For
the next three hours I rocked on that yoga ball or stood swaying
through the contractions that were now 2-4 minutes apart and 90 seconds
long. At 9am I talked to Nathan about maybe getting the epidural. <span style="font-size: large;"><b>I had hit a wall. </b></span> I had been up for close to <span style="font-size: large;">50 hours</span> and I knew once it came time to push it was going to be <span style="font-size: large;">difficult</span>
to get her out because of her position and I would need my strength.
With an epidural I could take a bit of a nap and rest up. I was hoping
the past three hours of tough contractions had put me to a 7 or 8 and
baby was a bit more engaged so I wouldn't have long until it would be
time to push. We told the nurses I wanted the epidural and they had the
doctor come in for an exam first...to see where we were. 6cm and 80%
effaced, -2 station. Still. Three hours of hard labor <span style="font-size: large;">hadn't changed a thing</span>...in
that moment I knew choosing to have an epidural was the right choice.
The doctor suggested pitocin to help increase the intensity of the
contractions and encourage baby to descend a bit more and move things
along. So I got hooked up with both the epidural and pitocin at around
9:30am. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We had wanted to keep it <span style="font-size: large;">quiet</span>
when we went to the hospital. We didn't want to be one of those people
who posted cervical updates on Facebook...no offence if that's you,
it's just not how we wanted to do it. We had told my mom, two of my
closest friends, and Lina & Mimmo...and that was it. It worked
splendidly at first. But now it was Thursday morning and Nathan was
supposed to be taking his advancement exam and was missing a second day
of work. And his work is a rumor mill...news travels fast. I worried
that someone from Nathan's work would post something on Facebook and our
family would see it and worry...so we headed it off and Nathan posted
that we were 39 hours into labor and baby wasn't here yet. We also
figured a few extra prayers and positive thoughts couldn't hurt. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Getting the epidural was not fun. The contractions were so painful by then that I was shaking...and the <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(super nice)</i></span> anesthesiologist hit a nerve that sent <span style="font-size: large;">lightning bolts of pain</span>
over the entire left side of my body. But once it was in and I laid
down, it started kicking in and I felt amazing. I was able to nap for
the next few hours. Nurses would come in and adjust the monitors, up
the pitocin dosage, and ask how I was doing. About 2pm I couldn't sleep
through the contractions anymore...even with the epidural. They hurt
enough to wake me up. Then I started <span style="font-size: large;">throwing up</span>.
The nurse offered to get me something for the nausea...but did tell me
that the throwing up was contracting my stomach too and could be helpful
to move baby lower. So I toughed it out and just kept throwing up. I
cried to Nathan. I was <span style="font-size: large;"><b>miserable</b></span>...and <span style="font-size: large;"><b>exhausted</b></span>.
I was wondering about a c-section but didn't know what to do. I said a
silent prayer that after the doctor checked me the answer would be
obvious. At 3pm my doctor came in to check on how things were going.
He did a cervical check...still 6cm, 80% effaced and -2 station...and
baby had bent my cervix. Six hours of pitocin had done <span style="font-size: large;">nothing</span> to move things along. I had my answer. He told me they could keep going, up the dose, or talk about other options. <span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Just take her out"</b></span> I tearfully pleaded. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">That
started a whirlwind of activity. Forms to sign, new meds, moved to an
operating room, a suit for Nathan. It happened so quickly. I was
amazed at how smooth and coordinated the whole process was, it was like a
ballet. Both of the OB docs were on hand for the c-section. They got
me in and prepped, strapped down and the blue curtain up. The doc
started cutting - I hate the smell of cauterizing flesh - and Nathan
came in and sat at my head. <span style="font-size: large;">At 3:52pm on Thursday March 6th, after 46 hours of labor sweet Amelia was born. </span>
She cried. They had warned me before that she might not cry, and they
wouldn't encourage her to because of the meconium...so not to worry if
she didn't. That cry was the sweetest sound and immediately brought me
to tears. </span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcghfT4kyyTebyguPz4lK9bvpYj_dNtYZlNYGBH35Btom1dfdFcM-beBKA3uZT_07b1QjIWLu3Bbt9Tt1dIJbNZp65vwaHmdWSOtXtgIllBUgepv0MrSZo5wnwGQeGp0cUqIlM/s1600/DSCN1712.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcghfT4kyyTebyguPz4lK9bvpYj_dNtYZlNYGBH35Btom1dfdFcM-beBKA3uZT_07b1QjIWLu3Bbt9Tt1dIJbNZp65vwaHmdWSOtXtgIllBUgepv0MrSZo5wnwGQeGp0cUqIlM/s1600/DSCN1712.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Hearing her cry. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Upon her exit both doctors commented on how she <b>"never would have come out"</b>
because of her head, shoulders, and position. Nathan went to the other
side of the room to see her and take pictures. They couldn't show her
to me right away...they had to make sure she hadn't inhaled any of the
meconium. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEwiwoj8lzTVIFyEwAzogyxJFV0wOyHdNRnlQjW9dN_fa5UV3vl9ZnjVGR_reBOroQJPyOSm-mbRkLJTGSJTTp8hCnbVYqWV44a2v6JOU87_p7k8mT6-B-8Gw_nWc1WiXbQey/s1600/DSCN1714.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEwiwoj8lzTVIFyEwAzogyxJFV0wOyHdNRnlQjW9dN_fa5UV3vl9ZnjVGR_reBOroQJPyOSm-mbRkLJTGSJTTp8hCnbVYqWV44a2v6JOU87_p7k8mT6-B-8Gw_nWc1WiXbQey/s1600/DSCN1714.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He
came back to show me the pictures of our beautiful, chubby princess. I
couldn't suppress the tears, I was so relieved for it to be over and
for her to be here safe and sound. They cleaned her off and a nurse
brought her over to me. I kissed that soft cheek as the tears fell. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-E_d4nMLAkGU0NO_XAG5SNOf1HjvjYUnHPbjmLDVwoQbsNikR182FRZF4xgyZ20bP1ZUCxod8_YP49Hrx9VDR4bVWCcJbaRd2A3q7uvgVBQDGgiu7vfLuzPZYd7ljT7LP2ML7/s1600/DSCN1719.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-E_d4nMLAkGU0NO_XAG5SNOf1HjvjYUnHPbjmLDVwoQbsNikR182FRZF4xgyZ20bP1ZUCxod8_YP49Hrx9VDR4bVWCcJbaRd2A3q7uvgVBQDGgiu7vfLuzPZYd7ljT7LP2ML7/s1600/DSCN1719.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Meeting my little sweetheart</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMWJh1KCSBIEWn0qKfro4goMd7pO3kY2PIQen18nxdIcsO-cbOY1ti9L4iGsTEs38s1CJ_jUJUotuagS6xOXj54J3yjmOAPLrGBO-5AMRQB_BXp17sTLU0Edb6b3mFoIEyp8g/s1600/DSCN1722.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMWJh1KCSBIEWn0qKfro4goMd7pO3kY2PIQen18nxdIcsO-cbOY1ti9L4iGsTEs38s1CJ_jUJUotuagS6xOXj54J3yjmOAPLrGBO-5AMRQB_BXp17sTLU0Edb6b3mFoIEyp8g/s1600/DSCN1722.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I
started getting very dizzy and I was having trouble speaking. It
scared me and frightened Nathan. Adjustments were made to my meds and
they had Nathan leave to accompany Amelia to the nursery. I must have
drifted to sleep...or passed out because in what seemed like only a of
couple minutes they were moving me to a bed and pushing me down the hall
to recovery. Recovery was <span style="font-size: large;">rough</span>. I was so <b><span style="font-size: large;">nauseous</span></b> and I was <span style="font-size: large;"><b>shaking</b></span>
non-stop. They gave me something for the nausea and Demerol for the
shaking. Nathan, in the meantime, was back in our room waiting for me.
I was in recovery for two hours. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wgcG-A86yw_M2RUEGM5QDz8mI1Y0JbqSP7adptzn0XmiMg7D45BYDOrmLuPmA2KBRSHiVmVW4iveXRd1aZO0wjEE6YpuctjR6aOdW75V0ztuVI3o45U-Jrq8TJ3GBtpuPe53/s1600/DSCN1731.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wgcG-A86yw_M2RUEGM5QDz8mI1Y0JbqSP7adptzn0XmiMg7D45BYDOrmLuPmA2KBRSHiVmVW4iveXRd1aZO0wjEE6YpuctjR6aOdW75V0ztuVI3o45U-Jrq8TJ3GBtpuPe53/s1600/DSCN1731.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">While
I was in recovery our doctor came to check on Amelia. We LOVE him - he
is such a great doctor. He makes me want to try and get pregnant again
right now...just to keep him as my doctor. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PMwg-2EKI4xbqEaC9tNedAQ3un4T5RH-ZSFeig03XbY15ObTulRnSwjPaRCcqG-Zs9XSsUvnLSbvMdO3Bf8-TH3IUFvVKlAWBViC6_9PucCaPfSDAGe3y3Jh3vsI0RhHBsxF/s1600/DSCN1732.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PMwg-2EKI4xbqEaC9tNedAQ3un4T5RH-ZSFeig03XbY15ObTulRnSwjPaRCcqG-Zs9XSsUvnLSbvMdO3Bf8-TH3IUFvVKlAWBViC6_9PucCaPfSDAGe3y3Jh3vsI0RhHBsxF/s1600/DSCN1732.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Holding Amelia for the first time.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At
6pm I was wheeled back into our room and I got to hold my daughter for
the first time. What a tender moment that was. We tried nursing, which
she took to like a fish to water. Then we were flooded with nurses and
corpsmen getting us settled, drugged, and checked. Dinner was brought
in, and that was THE BEST Salisbury steak I've ever had...after not
eating anything but some crackers Tuesday afternoon and a Jello cup
Wednesday I was starving. That night was filled with checks and pain
killers, and baby snuggles, and intermittent sleep.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM2pQxYuMnR1CMeqPt8nkyg7fL7lN97KhvEoMMHlAK_QNI4iwsH_B94PnLDj4RMmEtISdCTO3CztW7WY41CByDnmkDA5gTIIQhHFppRaE7_ugtZjjCNRGXxam0fm3JR52TEAj8/s1600/mommyandmia.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM2pQxYuMnR1CMeqPt8nkyg7fL7lN97KhvEoMMHlAK_QNI4iwsH_B94PnLDj4RMmEtISdCTO3CztW7WY41CByDnmkDA5gTIIQhHFppRaE7_ugtZjjCNRGXxam0fm3JR52TEAj8/s1600/mommyandmia.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Exhausted, but so happy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7Sg0GsxNy6NmopOuUjFRurE5xPlHB4-O6cCZppmpBqJg2xryALrqOyhg9YU_Zm69CGGMtvMQbWPEBHCwRii5beB3UsKY7wOZ0sZtP4CjYpfWJOS5anaXoSEK_6Cc3beW19xG/s1600/hello+my+name+is.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7Sg0GsxNy6NmopOuUjFRurE5xPlHB4-O6cCZppmpBqJg2xryALrqOyhg9YU_Zm69CGGMtvMQbWPEBHCwRii5beB3UsKY7wOZ0sZtP4CjYpfWJOS5anaXoSEK_6Cc3beW19xG/s1600/hello+my+name+is.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Friday
morning the nurses got me up, to the bathroom, and cleaned up.
Brushing my teeth and hair and that baby wipe "shower" felt <span style="font-size: large;">amazing</span>. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgm1-WOcQwGyUvtWin7PY9624RJmTixCIbENGlMOPmX7tiXaDpJfWPbFpFFMWobmsQfJQvzTn4ZMW000gmKoy0caB7sii89MhltSjCiat4BlsXqMusmKyNqQ4I95OyKQysVO-G/s1600/DSCN1734.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgm1-WOcQwGyUvtWin7PY9624RJmTixCIbENGlMOPmX7tiXaDpJfWPbFpFFMWobmsQfJQvzTn4ZMW000gmKoy0caB7sii89MhltSjCiat4BlsXqMusmKyNqQ4I95OyKQysVO-G/s1600/DSCN1734.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lina
& Mimmo brought Miles up shortly after, and it was so good to see
him. When he walked into the room it looked as if he'd grown a foot in
the last three days. He was not interested in baby sister at all...but
he was very concerned for mommy. Nathan had told him mommy had an owie
and he had to be very gentle. It <span style="font-size: large;">broke my heart</span> not to be able to pick him up and snuggle him...he's my little momma's boy. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RsRkLL66ZZjO3PskG2tZCwheMSvXlrxL1PfaD6USlpPI-SGxIfdGA1NcSf1w2vZB5LnB_m0sGpKW9S_5MXhQ0VW-cmiV_eu7VpukeyHmQZbHhu9C3JNjXGvH46as4DxdaySe/s1600/DSCN1735.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RsRkLL66ZZjO3PskG2tZCwheMSvXlrxL1PfaD6USlpPI-SGxIfdGA1NcSf1w2vZB5LnB_m0sGpKW9S_5MXhQ0VW-cmiV_eu7VpukeyHmQZbHhu9C3JNjXGvH46as4DxdaySe/s1600/DSCN1735.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lina & Mimmo...our Italian family. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVM2XpBrKojB4VXczspknUnDN4Rr_mn5AgzYAWVSX5uwFBnQpCs7EFStkOrnRqqe7iloAUaxuxmHNh5znNlMTw2qhS1Oy-XyYw-jiLXbBiuX0n9dcm8p4R-tVyO4QETDXgWzC_/s1600/DSCN1736.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVM2XpBrKojB4VXczspknUnDN4Rr_mn5AgzYAWVSX5uwFBnQpCs7EFStkOrnRqqe7iloAUaxuxmHNh5znNlMTw2qhS1Oy-XyYw-jiLXbBiuX0n9dcm8p4R-tVyO4QETDXgWzC_/s1600/DSCN1736.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My big boy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW1zVEWhlsuvCBK8-O1WWpHdnAKtsf7YpRp9woehpYVBu50p5fhsgLma1c8qQocan_PhXVIxc5QIe-EenOIu7NIN8W3SZwv8ieY3Ya5QEX1MbmeNEtR40sRBpDGShyphenhyphenJcLPGbz/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-03-24+at+3.46.04+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW1zVEWhlsuvCBK8-O1WWpHdnAKtsf7YpRp9woehpYVBu50p5fhsgLma1c8qQocan_PhXVIxc5QIe-EenOIu7NIN8W3SZwv8ieY3Ya5QEX1MbmeNEtR40sRBpDGShyphenhyphenJcLPGbz/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-03-24+at+3.46.04+PM.png" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with the kiddos...my poor swollen legs. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8auxtqJmSCDCdxrUGZNvuh8tfDYU4EHEjI2v1ppyS2cItyFMrxDzDvmhkgB-8GBKkBjqJS97urdkEZINwcFfx2Wzji1GI8vDXmxbxLASU-wgUmwnm3hFGTbbcOBxPNMhBc8F7/s1600/milesdrawing.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8auxtqJmSCDCdxrUGZNvuh8tfDYU4EHEjI2v1ppyS2cItyFMrxDzDvmhkgB-8GBKkBjqJS97urdkEZINwcFfx2Wzji1GI8vDXmxbxLASU-wgUmwnm3hFGTbbcOBxPNMhBc8F7/s1600/milesdrawing.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Drawing Miles did for Baby Sister</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He
left and we napped a bit more. A couple friends came by that
afternoon, but we were left alone for the most part...which was nice to
have time to bond with her, and nap, and recover from the long few days
we'd had. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Saturday morning I got a real shower and it was the <span style="font-size: large;">best shower of my life</span>. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcZEiJFBngaH9LeW8Rp530V_BGFhn0e-HLwMvhpdSSeqxZvF4sXiPdI1fm7UVHRQ9HWaUS4Olx65R5fZGFg7wc33frtDBszUMr2X0X9H84OxK8P0hHzP7jjACUXqQKam01NlH/s1600/DSCN1793.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcZEiJFBngaH9LeW8Rp530V_BGFhn0e-HLwMvhpdSSeqxZvF4sXiPdI1fm7UVHRQ9HWaUS4Olx65R5fZGFg7wc33frtDBszUMr2X0X9H84OxK8P0hHzP7jjACUXqQKam01NlH/s1600/DSCN1793.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Amelia and the other OB...he was on call over the weekend and was the one checking up on us. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Saturday
was busy, filled with visitors and doctor check-ups, and by evening I
was ready for sleep so when the nurses offered to "watch her" for us for
a few hours we gladly took them up on it and got almost 4 hours of
uninterrupted sleep. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXpwVwriQgTHfm-7ORlGrydpsVv2OzsjuFmDj_IoP25Pb672BufT8TH-_3Zob3MyoWUwx5w_Wy3cG7x-QRTkVdyIJXy1Vd1PDpgQsSrfhZhuZjjT6Pojnt2UXf0TIXwDjljOjG/s1600/DSCN1766.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXpwVwriQgTHfm-7ORlGrydpsVv2OzsjuFmDj_IoP25Pb672BufT8TH-_3Zob3MyoWUwx5w_Wy3cG7x-QRTkVdyIJXy1Vd1PDpgQsSrfhZhuZjjT6Pojnt2UXf0TIXwDjljOjG/s1600/DSCN1766.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssaWiF0jAkVCK3eHWC1UuEQjWPgbn7hTC7fIZMD12DK0h5KKXW-S_EQXyn4ACOQs_u_t9u5dQ4GU2NT3njdQEY534hUDipVvrfy2jUJarFPUUbS-jeJ9RqrRiC227uhENJXkB/s1600/DSCN1769.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssaWiF0jAkVCK3eHWC1UuEQjWPgbn7hTC7fIZMD12DK0h5KKXW-S_EQXyn4ACOQs_u_t9u5dQ4GU2NT3njdQEY534hUDipVvrfy2jUJarFPUUbS-jeJ9RqrRiC227uhENJXkB/s1600/DSCN1769.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Squishy
cheeks! You can also see the little nick on her cheek - her battle
would from the c-section. Doc feels HORRIBLE about it...especially
since I'd given him a hard time the week before about not slicing into
the baby if I needed a c-section.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYrrY6VDejZNwCYwdRgkFn9VTqvVJYKorYeEOG-fkyx7zGGqvftfupaYSNi9zWwZcEtN6fK755rIn6nB3n5b_zv1eFxL4XDMiIhOiK1HxOwb_yojD-auRbOIftJPGqlipFAUh/s1600/DSCN1787.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYrrY6VDejZNwCYwdRgkFn9VTqvVJYKorYeEOG-fkyx7zGGqvftfupaYSNi9zWwZcEtN6fK755rIn6nB3n5b_zv1eFxL4XDMiIhOiK1HxOwb_yojD-auRbOIftJPGqlipFAUh/s1600/DSCN1787.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Not
the best picture but you can see how much hair she has...on the back
and sides and crown. She's just got fuzz up on top...we joke and call
it a Dr Phil haircut</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RVFAVAw32Lopn5Ss_-QS29Qbb2vx8VkhBgD33md3I0Y3F6XTsWOG2UJiBnnYSuYn8XGQbY4yR5lstGvUG6mpiCn2ytMMTG-Hdn4_gEYWqNlgAfl1HiQUJguc70hW0NzmA3UM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-03-24+at+3.46.46+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RVFAVAw32Lopn5Ss_-QS29Qbb2vx8VkhBgD33md3I0Y3F6XTsWOG2UJiBnnYSuYn8XGQbY4yR5lstGvUG6mpiCn2ytMMTG-Hdn4_gEYWqNlgAfl1HiQUJguc70hW0NzmA3UM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-03-24+at+3.46.46+PM.png" height="400" width="398" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Walking the loop around the maternity ward Saturday night.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp72f5yhCFJgwENRZPUi40v-fkgVsOvR_VSDtcKeNs3LFo0xlDUJMVwbnZ5e1GXeKROXLPbNYEMlSnYP1y76hmstYpOU6F2ki6YGaiTVx-yvvyaBX_IMMv6G1BtlT2nvg9WPdF/s1600/nurses.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp72f5yhCFJgwENRZPUi40v-fkgVsOvR_VSDtcKeNs3LFo0xlDUJMVwbnZ5e1GXeKROXLPbNYEMlSnYP1y76hmstYpOU6F2ki6YGaiTVx-yvvyaBX_IMMv6G1BtlT2nvg9WPdF/s1600/nurses.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">the staff</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sunday morning after breakfast we started the checkout process and we were home by about 3pm. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69Wlb7f7JbYF8HYCQabYIiQG2vQGaUMAMtpbtyorO_NBP12vuB9bU1F1xsihG9E2jGInOuos8AiB7KStv8xzgKBmtZ_0g-OEG3TZlMy1ca1rJJkbk0nJwjJwFHhIBfK6RHFwd/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-03-24+at+3.46.21+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69Wlb7f7JbYF8HYCQabYIiQG2vQGaUMAMtpbtyorO_NBP12vuB9bU1F1xsihG9E2jGInOuos8AiB7KStv8xzgKBmtZ_0g-OEG3TZlMy1ca1rJJkbk0nJwjJwFHhIBfK6RHFwd/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-03-24+at+3.46.21+PM.png" height="400" width="397" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Headed home</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitA0-vx49G1tNVao-XSzcJmRmDEccUcDbOwvZOouZsmTVZmrGnfTYP7CxMNo6zknWSWZ7MkhSuryY0KH5AaeVEnSh5sC075T3YhzU8M_c1fFVl-cAyH3vk-APSUDnOMEU-jUXL/s1600/flowers.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitA0-vx49G1tNVao-XSzcJmRmDEccUcDbOwvZOouZsmTVZmrGnfTYP7CxMNo6zknWSWZ7MkhSuryY0KH5AaeVEnSh5sC075T3YhzU8M_c1fFVl-cAyH3vk-APSUDnOMEU-jUXL/s1600/flowers.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Amelia with all the flowers people brought us in the hospital, the quilt mommy made her, and her bassinet name banner. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqANCwckH3RwJuqB4IHqVzVZhII-UYD5DXwbHlcxh_6R0vKAeqJ5OYtixmpI4bJdEJJYSO8VgwYDs3vGeU3epArLLZ1G2xi3Zk1kLwrQiUiWl_V78jtfnCBxW34p6yOuJQf5OU/s1600/balloons+1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqANCwckH3RwJuqB4IHqVzVZhII-UYD5DXwbHlcxh_6R0vKAeqJ5OYtixmpI4bJdEJJYSO8VgwYDs3vGeU3epArLLZ1G2xi3Zk1kLwrQiUiWl_V78jtfnCBxW34p6yOuJQf5OU/s1600/balloons+1.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Our
landlords had decorated the gate, our door, and the stairwell with pink
balloons. They also had a pan of pasta warm from the oven and a tray
of tirimisu for us to eat. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ljaroMKWifdzfTw1aRyGnObUA_4FPijrvtxUkHme68qWOeb-2phuQak0nIE4gGZb88yZn1F-Frl7WYHEunbkizlq4ZOdCmUFVUXUD51lzDnVVf6qBlzDAH-sDaouNoyL1SXq/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-03-24+at+7.51.01+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ljaroMKWifdzfTw1aRyGnObUA_4FPijrvtxUkHme68qWOeb-2phuQak0nIE4gGZb88yZn1F-Frl7WYHEunbkizlq4ZOdCmUFVUXUD51lzDnVVf6qBlzDAH-sDaouNoyL1SXq/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-03-24+at+7.51.01+PM.png" height="400" width="397" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A family of four <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(I have yet to get a picture of the four of us together...)</i></span>.
We cuddled on the couch and read stories to Miles. I had multiple
moments where I couldn't believe this was our life. There were times in
our past where we wondered if we'd ever be parents, and now, here we
were sitting on the couch with our TWO beautiful miracle children. We
are very blessed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Just for fun, here is a picture of Amelia <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(center)</i></span> with Nathan <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(right)</i></span> and I's <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(left)</i></span> baby pictures...just for comparison. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Holly - Amelia - Nathan</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-10607836945792891622014-03-17T21:08:00.000+01:002014-03-24T21:11:42.101+01:00Introducing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Keyhole-Photography/447290428645808?ref=br_tf" target="_blank"><img alt="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Keyhole-Photography/447290428645808?ref=br_tf" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyOjXNTP-MNLzs7d6EAKOsYRlI5YKHuYqj8l8jvPed0K3TCl4gnSR-chahIVNbLno2zc4FsoxeHhEaXs0T_eiTO3nLna2N48N1ouP7DV5k6G-d39vEK1hGbbRv8b5_DATvABvd/s1600/amelianewborntest+copy.jpg" height="263" width="400" /><span id="goog_253690520"></span></a><span id="goog_253690521"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Miss Amelia Dawn</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">March 6</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">3:52pm</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">8lbs 9oz</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">20"</span></div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-55958838793570337582014-02-25T11:12:00.000+01:002014-02-25T11:12:35.304+01:00One down...two to go...still no baby<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Still no baby. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In case you were wondering. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Everyone</span> seems to wonder. Our pizza guys, the grocery clerks, Miles' teachers. This morning at school drop-off the look of shock <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(again) </i></span>on the nun's face matched yesterday's look...and Friday's look. I'm convinced that Italians think anyone over six months pregnant is ready to pop at any second...you never see a pregnant Italian woman who looks more than 5 months pregnant. Maybe they all hide indoors for the last few months, who knows. Last night we went to our go-to pizza/pasta joint and the cook quickly glanced out from behind the counter to check if I still had a belly. Yep, still there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am not as stressed about it as I was last week. Nathan got his travel plans changed - they are sending a sub. Which put my mind at ease since she is still not here, and he was slated to leave in less than a week. She can come when she wants, I just wish I knew <span style="font-size: large;">when</span>. I am a planner...and waking up every day wondering <span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>"Is today the day?!" </b></i></span>is not fun for my OCD, Type-A personality. Or maybe it is...it's teaching me patience. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We do have some sort of routine...it's "be ready for baby" routine. Keep the house clean, dishes washed, laundry done, bags packed, phone & camera charged...incase today is the day. It keeps us busy <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(I have such a good hubby)</i></span>. But at night when I pull my toothbrush back OUT of the hospital bag to brush before I head to bed I wonder how many more nights that will be the case. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My Italian "mother" got back today. She had been in Milan for a week. She and her hubby are the plan for Miles' care while baby comes. She called me this morning and said "I'm back!" "Welcome back - still no baby" I told her. <span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>"I know, I told her to wait until Nonna Lina came home"</b></i></span> she fires back. This is the same woman who told me over a year ago that I was going to get pregnant...and that it would be a girl. So she has some sort of pregnancy oracle skills...I told her to tell baby to get out now. We shall see. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So February 24th was the due date I initially thought was mine when I first tested positive. That was yesterday. Saturday is coming <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(that's #2)</span></i>...let's hope she doesn't wait much longer after that! Although she could come the 2nd...Dr Seuss' birthday, that would be totally awesome!</span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-64659206776530326592014-02-22T12:52:00.002+01:002014-02-22T12:57:57.503+01:00All About Miles<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Last week I was talking with a mother friend of mine and we were saying how we need to be better at recording the funny things our littles do...because they won't stay little forever and because I'll forget. I didn't immediately worry, because I do document Miles' life pretty good on the private blog we set up for his birthmom...but I rarely put anything here. So this is my attempt to be better. He is such a sweet boy and I want to be sure and remember all the funny, quirky things he does and says. His language is exploding...and it seems to be happening overnight. He comes up with new words and phrases almost every day, in English & Italian. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(if something is in bold italics below, it's stuff he says) </i></span>I post a lot on Instagram, but not all of you are on Instagram so you miss some wicked cute adorableness. :)</span><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Miles the Tender Hearted</b></span></u></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This little guy has the most tender of hearts. He loves to give hugs and kisses. To everyone, and everything. Winston, Mario, me, Nathan, baby sister <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(my belly)</i></span>, toys, blankets, food, teachers, etc. Everything. The other night I was in the office and I heard him get into baby sister's bed, start her mobile, and giggle. I went in and found him sitting there, kissing each of the owls in her mobile as they passed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBLFdAV6TCVlJrnpEccMwdEisiSuhTtrILMgBkuyupb2qfniCx0N5GDSa3XtMBBfogo-B_sLlNa1GCWfu6kRDtdLGnsRn7cHRqrpO4LDM2hqTfDPKaeDB6I_12yHOr78X2Ljo/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-02-22+at+12.20.48+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBLFdAV6TCVlJrnpEccMwdEisiSuhTtrILMgBkuyupb2qfniCx0N5GDSa3XtMBBfogo-B_sLlNa1GCWfu6kRDtdLGnsRn7cHRqrpO4LDM2hqTfDPKaeDB6I_12yHOr78X2Ljo/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-02-22+at+12.20.48+PM.png" height="400" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Miles the Voyer</span></b></u></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This is a recent development. It showed it's head rarely over the last couple months but over the last few days it's been showing up more. About a week ago he crawled into bed with us at 6am, it took me about 46 seconds to realize that he was naked. Buck naked. <span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Diaper yucky" </b></span>he told me. He had peed and didn't want to be in it so he took it off. A couple days later when I woke him up in the morning he was in bed, under his blankets completely naked from the waist down. <span style="font-size: large;"><b>"diaper yucky"</b></span> he told me...again. Then later that day I was sitting in the front room and I heard him giggle THAT giggle...you know, the mischievous one. I called for him and he poked his head around the corner. Those beautiful little brown eyes twinkled with trouble. He jumped around the corner so he was in full view. And he was totally naked. He stood there proud as a peacock. <span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Diaper yucky"</b></span> again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I know he's ready to potty train but it's not something we wanted to do days before baby comes...since everyone tells us he'll regress once she's here. So I'm hoping this trend sticks around for a couple weeks and once she's here we can capitalize on it. In the mean time he is providing lots of laughter for us. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckzagME3IH7VjRY-H_1NbKRxcu_osV5htWL93XTWD0aRFrTMo6WK2PokqeXHVWjjZZulQSZvLjkBvzo4SAEbXPVwRlHdfrrKr-iqAJoH7Bzzh2WqeDamR3IIEPEWz2VDpCo8p/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-02-22+at+12.20.19+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgckzagME3IH7VjRY-H_1NbKRxcu_osV5htWL93XTWD0aRFrTMo6WK2PokqeXHVWjjZZulQSZvLjkBvzo4SAEbXPVwRlHdfrrKr-iqAJoH7Bzzh2WqeDamR3IIEPEWz2VDpCo8p/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-02-22+at+12.20.19+PM.png" height="398" width="400" /></a></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Miles the Helper</span></b></u></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Miles loves to do whatever we are doing. <i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Miles do it"</b></span></i> he tells us. So we've let him. We have him put his dirty clothes in the laundry, throw away garbage, pick up toys, cook dinner, whatever...and he does pretty good. He has also loved helping daddy build the furniture for baby sister. He gets his own screwdriver and mimics what daddy is doing, and tells us <i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"good job!"</b></span></i>. I've been sitting many hours on a yoga ball, trying to ease hip pain and also encourage baby sister to drop. Miles will either sit on his own and <span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>"boing"</i></b></span> or stand on mine and <span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>"help mommy"</i></b></span>. He will be an excellent big brother! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdW9sOcQOUkQtmLSjgDDVEkW17TLDB1wbkVddLzgK-srq6qQkJJOcAdUUUjrwW_MbcWYtyI7VGR0kCMMb3STbsta83VVTQCdpAuXPUavgmmmNPdN4ol1a77hOXe9pUwRouNk3/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-02-22+at+12.21.50+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdW9sOcQOUkQtmLSjgDDVEkW17TLDB1wbkVddLzgK-srq6qQkJJOcAdUUUjrwW_MbcWYtyI7VGR0kCMMb3STbsta83VVTQCdpAuXPUavgmmmNPdN4ol1a77hOXe9pUwRouNk3/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-02-22+at+12.21.50+PM.png" height="398" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boing! Boing!</td></tr>
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<u><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Miles the Entertainer</span></b></u></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This kid has stardom in his blood. He LOVES an audience...even if it's just his shadow or reflection. He recites entire scenes from movies, dances to ANY music he hears, and loves to laugh. He loves to "play" <span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>"tawr" </b></i></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(guitar)</i></span> with dad, and take selfies with Photobooth, and strutting around the house in <span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>"eyes"</b></i></span> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(sunglasses) </i></span>is the most hilarious thing ever to him. He is such a happy boy and he just exudes positive energy. He is loved immensely by his teachers and all who come in contact with him. And he feeds off that attention. When we took him to school the morning after he got his new mohawk haircut his nuns <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(from his class) </i></span>FLIPPED OUT - they snatched him up and kissed on him, calling him "bello" <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(beautiful)</i></span>, carted him around to all the classes showing him off, taking pictures...and Miles ate. it. up. </span><br />
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<u><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Miles the Dancer</span></b></u></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(he is copying <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NTj3nw2TEEw" target="_blank"><u>this dance</u></a>...move for move starting at 1:27) </span></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Sure love this kid!</b></span></span></div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-6573233722663157552014-02-18T13:04:00.000+01:002014-02-18T13:21:43.392+01:00Love my OB<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I'm now down to weekly appointments! We met with the doc Friday and everything still looks good. I did gain NINE pounds last week which freaked me out a bit but the doc didn't seem too phased. ? I had * just* eaten lunch and drank a large amount of water...and kept my shoes on. But still...holy moses. I've also started to swell a bit the last few days. I had to take my wedding ring off so it wouldn't get stuck...that feels so weird not to wear. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I convinced the doc to do a cervical check <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(he thinks I'm only 37 weeks...I think I'm 38w3d)</i></span> and to his surprise - and my relief - I was almost 3cm dilated! I think that made him really question if I may be right about due dates because low and behold Saturday morning I get a call from him saying he's just spent the last hour or so reviewing my chart and all my scans and he AGREES with me that my due date was wrong! <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(He wasn't the one who set it...I saw a different doc for the first two weeks of my pregnancy...then she was transferred) </span></i> He changed it to March 1st. So not all the way to Feb 24th like I think...but it's five days and I'll take it! I love him as a doctor...he makes me want to have another baby just to have him as a doctor! I told him I still hoped we'd see him over the weekend to have a baby...he said if that's what we wanted that he hoped for it too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well that didn't happen. :( </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here it is Tuesday afternoon and still no baby. It's not that I expected her to come rushing out after my appointment...I just *really* thought she was going to be born last weekend. And we tried to get her here...we tried EVERYTHING. I even had contractions all through dinner Saturday evening, but then they stopped. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I have <span style="font-size: large;">loved</span> being pregnant...even with the constant sciatica pain and the months of nausea and the achy hips. But I am ready to be done. <span style="font-size: large;"> I want to meet her. </span> I want to get on with our lives as a family of four. I feel like I'm a ticking time bomb. The cats watch me like crazy...if I leave the room Winston follows and and now Mario has started doing it too. Nathan perks up with every twinge I feel, and calls me often during the day to see if I've had any contractions. I'm ready to sleep on my stomach again, and get rid of my sausage toes and itchy swollen fingers. I'm ready to be able to rough house with Miles. And I am SOOO ready for a long run...oh how my sanity has missed that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">To keep busy we've packed hospital bags, and finished bedding, and done laundry. I've made a bunch of freezer meals and frozen green smoothie packets. We've reorganized rooms, and cleaned out things.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here's her bedding...isn't it cute? I made the bumpers and the skirt. I ordered the owl mobile on etsy, and we found the canopy at IKEA. My mom is making a quilt...but it's not here yet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If you want to send some positive, labor inducing thoughts my way I'd be ever so grateful! Especially since daddy is supposed to leave the country for work only a few days after she is supposed to arrive...and I'd like to have some time <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(more than a couple days)</i></span> to bond as a family of four before he goes. </span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-50877884178447996742014-02-11T13:27:00.000+01:002014-02-18T13:31:48.363+01:00Loss<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Growing up we were fortunate enough to have lived my whole life – until I was married – 20 minutes from Grandma & Grandpa. For as far back as I can remember Sunday nights meant ice cream and donuts at their house. We’d sit around the low-round table in the living room, try to be discreet and write our name on the bottom of it…Grandma would always catch us and we’d be scolded worse than Wolfie when he got off his rug. We’d color in the coloring books, play in the basement, and run through the orchard. Although no matter the activity you’d always hear the sound of that police scanner in the background, and grandma had a sixth sense when it came to that thing. She’d pop up out of her chair and turn it up, sometimes making grandpa go get the truck so they could go investigate. I remember my first day of my senior year of high school when she called me to see why I’d set my school on fire…she’d heard about it on the police scanner. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Summers meant time at Sourdough, playing Phase 10 and Skip-Bo with grandma in the screen tent while the scent of mothballs wafted over from under grandma & grandpa’s trailer. I remember sitting outside her trailer one day, trying to find some shade in the hot sun, when a flaming kitchen towel came flying out the door, followed by a train of expletives. Grandma had set it on fire. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sourdough Days would roll around and grandma would recruit every willing grandchild to save spaces for Bingo. We’d sit in the hot sun all day feasting on hotdogs, chips, and airhead taffy…playing Bingo off of our dozens of cards. Grandma would heckle the caller, and tease other players. Then came the raffle…she’d buy scores of tickets and put each grandkids’ name on one…hoping for that ever elusive swing grand prize. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Grandma was a practical joker...and if you were lucky you could pull one off on her. One Sunday night I loaded up the door of her fridge with towels – something she HATED. I did it right before we left so she wouldn’t notice until we’d gone. Once we got home she called and demanded to know who had done it…”karma’s a bitch” she told me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You could always count on her to be fiercely honest…about what you were doing with your life, what you were wearing, anything. But she was always supportive, even if it was something she didn’t like – like Nathan and I moving 4000 miles away to Italy; or understand – like football. The few years Nathan and I lived back in Utah we tried to continue the Sunday nights at grandma & grandpa’s house. We’d bring snacks and watch football…a sport neither of them seemed to know anything about…at first. Week after week we’d spend the evening there, although grandma would have to bow out at some point to go watch Survivor or Deal or No Deal in the other room. When my team lost in the championship round and I sat in her chair and cried…she teased me. For weeks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You didn’t see her cry much. But I remember when she met our sweet Miles that tears rolled down her wrinkly cheeks. She loved her grandkids more than anything in the world…more than lotto tickets even. And when the great grandkids started rolling in she just spread that love around even more. You always knew grandma was good for a cookie, a kiss, and a pinch on the butt. I know she’s up there now, kissing all the rest of her great-grandbabies who haven’t joined us yet; teaching them how to flip the bird, and telling them the best places for lotto tickets. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span data-measureme="1"><span class="null">I'm grateful to have had so many years with her, and look forward to the time when I know I'll see her again.</span></span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b> June 6, 1933 - February 11, 2014</b></span></span></div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-53910831730162904282014-02-06T18:30:00.000+01:002014-02-18T13:04:24.938+01:00She's gonna be chubby!!<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I had my 36 week checkup today, and while we were there doc did a growth scan to see how baby girl is doing size-wise. Welp, ladies and gents, she's a whopper. Already. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Now before you tell me that those scans aren't 100% accurate...I know. I know there is a margin of error. But she has consistently measured big...and the doctors and I don't agree on a due date. I think I'm 10 days sooner than they do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Anyway...the details. She is currently estimated to weigh 8lbs 2oz. That means she ALREADY won't fit in newborn clothes. And she's got four weeks<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> (according to the doctors)</i></span> to go...er, GROW. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I'm starting to get nervous about this whole birth thing. </span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-22785681499491530922014-02-02T17:18:00.000+01:002014-02-04T17:18:48.303+01:00Dozen<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Yesterday was our anniversary.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Twelve years.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Twelve awesome, crazy, hectic, emotional, amazing years...I don't even know how it's possible! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We didn't do anything fancy. The impending arrival of baby girl kept big travel plans grounded, and our love of football and the SuperBowl kept us local. We decided on a simple dinner out as a family. Afterall, it was twelve years ago yesterday that our family started. We went to one of our favorite restaurants here in Italy...Nathan and I got steaks <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(oh so good) </i></span>and Miles got pizza, with which he was thrilled<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> (as always)</i></span>. He's getting so big...he was such a good boy at dinner. It hit me watching him how much he's grown, and how lucky we are to have him in our family. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I love Nathan so much - it has been made even clearer over the last few weeks as I enter the horribly uncomfortable stage of pregnancy. He is such a good support to me, and such a good father to Miles. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I'm glad that twelve years ago we started this journey together. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here's to the next twelve. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(he he...sorry honey, couldn't resist)</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-64049225276558098742014-01-23T11:32:00.000+01:002014-02-25T11:33:02.466+01:00Unshakable Faith<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Found this. Love it. Had to share. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://www.ldsprintables.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="http://www.ldsprintables.com/" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidATEQW88JhmXKseOucuy2o_6KwKV_CkCJxnCyBiVUdEtngXHmhp25ZYLJlLXZ-i-oLdjW15XP_Fnz-5Lp-tiwtWScQ9qFMwGX9vFhNnG6o5ygpJgLW8JhbCN1-t2Fm3X1jbzp/s1600/unshakable-faith.png" height="640" width="512" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-52294242967689690982014-01-23T10:22:00.002+01:002014-02-25T11:18:08.618+01:00Um...better get ready<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Tuesday we got a bit of a wake-up call. I'd had some heavy cramping for 5-6 days and even some contractions. Baby was moving like normal so I didn't worry much. But since it hadn't stopped by the morning - and after a quick chat with a friend at school drop-off - I decided to call my OB and see what they said. I thought for sure they'd tell me "it's nothing - just first time mom worries - go about your day" but instead they wanted me to come in and be checked, just to be safe. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As I gathered my things to leave the house panic crept into my mind. I suddenly felt <span style="font-size: large;">TOTALLY</span> unprepared for this sweet baby girl to arrive. My mind flooded with all that was still left to be done, and everything that would need to happen in the next few hours should she decide she was coming early <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(not to mention the fear that it was too early and I'd be sent to an Italian hospital)</i></span>. Her room wasn't ready, her bedding not sewn, sheets that were ordered were stuck in customs, car seat needed to be washed, Miles was at school, Nathan was at work, hospital bag wasn't packed, I hadn't typed my birth plan or finished my hospital admission paperwork. We would need our passports, birth certificates, and wedding license for her paperwork and I couldn't tell you where it was at the moment. My side of the bed was so messy I'd never be able to fit a pack and play there, and her crib wasn't ready. We had lightly discussed plans for Miles but had never asked anyone or set anything up officially. Her coming home outfit hadn't come in the mail yet - and it would probably be too big anyway. As I shoved my iPad, hospital paperwork, and a few snacks in my purse I rubbed my belly and told her she needed to stay put a bit longer. I called Nathan and he left work to meet me at the hospital. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Upon arrival at Labor & Delivery <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(which was so surreal on it's own)</i></span> they took my vitals<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> (BP was high) </i></span>and hooked me up to a machine to monitor contractions and baby's heart rate. They also discussed with me some tests that they wanted to run to check some things out. Of course once I was hooked up the contractions stopped...I felt like a crazy woman who cried wolf. My OB came up to see me - he threw in a few more fat baby jokes, of course - and they ran the tests. Everything came back clean. They did an FFN, which tests the likelihood of you having a baby within the next two weeks, and it came back negative. They did an AmnioTest to see if I was leaking amniotic fluid...and it came back clean. They tested my pee for a UTI or other infection...clean. And last but not least a cervical check <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(ouch, seriously...)</span></i> and I'm still all sealed up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">They think the contractions and cramps could have been from dehydration <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(I had a wicked sore throat last week for a few days...didn't drink as much as I need to)</i></span>, stress, and/or overexertion. I was told to take it easy - but not too easy. No bedrest or anything, normal activities just be sure I'm taking a little bit of time each day to put my feet up and relax. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I was super relieved that everything went well and she is staying put a wee bit longer. Living here brings complications that you don't have stateside. If I go into labor before 36 weeks I <span style="font-size: large;">cannot</span> deliver at the Navy hospital. They will send me out to an Italian hospital. The reason? We don't have a NICU. Our ER is also bare minimum...if you have a true trauma emergency you will also not be seen. It's a small hospital without the capabilities to take care of large scale traumas. Now an Italian hospital won't be like delivering in the dirt...but it is definitely a <span style="font-size: large;">different experience</span> than an American hospital. Hubbies aren't allowed in delivery rooms. They do not provide ANYTHING for you - no hand soap in the bathroom, no towels to dry your hands, no shower towels, no blankets for the bed...literally nothing but the bed and a sheet. They do provide some things for the baby...but you - the mommy - are on your own. Also - pain management is totally different. No epidurals <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(unless you have spoken with the anesthesiologist before...which wouldn't have happened if I were unexpectedly going into labor early)</i></span>, no pain meds...unless you have a C-section. So if I were to go into labor early not only would I have to pack a normal hospital bag I'd also need to run around the house grabbing towels, soap, shampoo, tissues, blankets, pillows, pads, pain meds, etc. NOT something I want to have to do. Plus she needs to cook more...I want her to be healthy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You better believe that my nesting instinct kicked into high gear yesterday. According to the tests I have at least two weeks...but I've got a lot to do. I made a giant to-do list and got going. I filled out my intake paperwork <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(finally)</i></span>, cleaned through Miles' clothes, scheduled us for a couple of birthing classes, talked with Nathan about a plan for Miles, and much more. I've got even more on my list for today...I am determined to be ready for her, whenever she decides to come. But I'm hoping she makes it to Valentine's Day (37 weeks). </span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-9847702377815215612014-01-21T09:46:00.000+01:002014-01-23T09:46:59.039+01:00Baby Bump Shoot<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A dear friend of ours did my maternity pictures for us. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(You can see her photo website <a href="http://amandavoelkerphotography.com/" target="_blank"><u><b>HERE</b></u></a>) </i></span>We took them amongst some ancient Roman ruins on a cliff overlooking the sea <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(seriously, how cool is Italy?!)</i></span> She captured the true essence of our crazy little family. Here are some of my favorites. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-87188285751417388412014-01-10T22:23:00.000+01:002014-01-23T11:05:13.487+01:00Baby girl update<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We had another ultrasound yesterday. It was a follow-up to check on an irregularity in her brain...and to also check her position. We didn't mention it when we first found out because we didn't want to cause worry when we didn't know for sure that there was something to worry about. She had choroid cysts in her brain at 20 weeks...and so they wanted to check again at 32 and see if they were gone. They were! And she had flipped...she's on her side, but at least she's now head down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">They also checked her measurements and growth. This is where it get's funny...and confusing. Back when I first discovered I was pregnant I figured a due date of February 24th. This was based on when I *thought* my last period was...I couldn't remember exactly, but I had a <span style="font-size: large;">3 day window</span> and I picked the first day. When I saw the doc for the first time and they did a dating ultrasound they disagreed with the date...they did another a week later and pushed my due date back ten days to March 6th. I didn't agree with them - the timing for the <span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>making</b></i></span> of said baby didn't line up - but they're the doctors so whatever. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At my 20 week anatomy scan the sonographer measured and measured and said the baby was measuring with a due date of Feb 26th <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(which fit right into my three day window)</i></span>...she was <span style="font-size: large;">measuring big</span>, but that was the date she was sticking with. I hadn't told the sonographer about the due date discrepancy until she mentioned a different date than the doctors had been saying. I let it be and figured it didn't matter much. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Fast forward to this scan at 32 weeks. We were again told that she was <span style="font-size: x-large;">big</span>. Based on a due date of Feb 26th, our healthy baby girl was measuring in the <span style="font-size: large;">96%tile for weight</span>...at an already estimated <span style="font-size: large;"><b>FIVE POUNDS!</b></span> The sonographer <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(same as the first one)</i></span> was quick to tell me that it is just an ESTIMATE and they <span style="font-size: large;">can be off</span> by up to a pound. Baby was measuring right on target with height...but her head and belly were big. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Poor thing got my head instead of daddy's)</i></span> My brain quickly remembered something I'd read that said that a baby gains a half to a full pound for their last 4-6 weeks in utero...and I did the math and my lady bits shuttered in fear. I asked what date she was measuring on target for...February 14th. That's when I'd be 37 weeks according to the doctors, and a couple days shy of 39 weeks according to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So today when we met with my doctor I planned to ask him if he was going to move up the due date. He walked into the room and said "so did they tell you about your ultrasound results?" I responded with "yep, the cysts are gone"...and he said <span style="font-size: large;"><b>"No, that you're growing a heifer." </b></span> WORD. FOR. WORD. Then he quickly apologized and said he shouldn't have said that...he grew up in the midwest around cows. It was fine with us - aside from the initial shock of having your doctor call your baby a large bovine animal. I quickly said <b>"I prefer to think of her as my little linebacker"</b> and we all had a good laugh. Have I mentioned before how much I love this OB?! He's from Chicago, he has a terribly dry sense of humor, and is brutally honest. He's <span style="font-size: large;">perfect</span> for us. Speaking of weight... I ask him about moving the due date and he checks back at the 8 & 9 weeks scans. Nope, it's staying. And then he tells me we shouldn't buy Newborn sized clothes...and laughs again. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(in the most kind way possible...I promise)</i></span> He does say that they will do another growth scan at 37-38 weeks to check her size. If she's measuring at or above 5000 grams <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(a little over 11lbs)</i></span> they will schedule a c-section. If she's under they'll let me go. His big worry is having the baby get stuck in the birth canal...since the hospital here isn't equipped to deal with such an emergent situation. But he is very supportive and told me that my body was made for this and I'll be amazed at what it's capable of doing. He really is great. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Everything else is going along swimmingly. I still have almost constant sciatica pain, and my hips feel like they want to separate from my body...both contribute to poor or little sleep; but I'm healthy and am genuinely enjoying being pregnant. I love having our time together...just her and I. Feeling her kick and roll and get hiccups is amazing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Last but not least - here's a pic of our little linebacker. It's a side profile shot or her with her fist in her mouth...where it has been EVERY time we've gotten a look at her. You can see her squinted eye, chubby button nose, chubby fingers, and those deliciously chubby cheeks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Can't wait to meet her!! </span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-41561606930963614322014-01-04T16:34:00.001+01:002014-01-04T16:34:16.610+01:00Resolutions: 2013 graded & 2014 resolved<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alrighty...I found my post from last year about my resolutions, as a reminder, this is what I resolved:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Be able to sing Oh Holy Night in church for Christmas...in Italian</b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Have my photography studio up and running</b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Keep going with Isagenix and get to my goal weight</b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Be able to carry on a conversation with someone in Italian - without Google Translate</b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Mail my Christmas cards by December 1st</b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- De-clutter every room in our house</b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Catch up Nathan's Navy scrapbook</b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- 20 pages in Nathan's Navy scrapbook </b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- 20 pages in Miles' scrapbook </b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Read the entire Book of Mormon </b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Read one book a month - of my choice. </b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Keep up with the Sunday School lessons </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And how I fared at year end:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Be able to sing Oh Holy Night in church for Christmas...in Italian</b> - <b><span style="font-size: large;">A</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Done. I almost peed myself from fear, and being 7 months pregnant with a rib-dweller definitely made the long, high notes a bit tougher...but this one felt awesome to accomplish! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Have my photography studio up and running</b> -<b><span style="font-size: large;"> A</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My photography business here in Italy took on a life of it's own this year. Fueled by mini-sessions, it grew rapidly. Our babymoon to Paris <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(pictures coming, I swear) </i></span>was almost completely paid for by holiday photo sessions! I got a new logo custom designed and I'm also working on a new, more professional webpage. I can't wait to see where 2014 takes it!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Keep going with Isagenix and get to my goal weight</b> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>- A</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I started the year out hard, got to a grand total of 50lbs lost and was losing more...then got the surprise of a lifetime finding out that <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(shocker!) </span></i>my uterus & ovaries actually decided to work. Even though I was about 20lbs from my goal weight I'm giving myself an A. I busted by butt this year and I am so proud of the work I did. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Be able to carry on a conversation with someone in Italian - without Google Translate</b> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>- B</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This one depends on the topic...but I'm definitely more equipped to handle random conversations than I was at the end of 2012. My language base grows every week, and I think I'm going to add a few lessons this year and see how far I can really go. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(since we'll be here another two years, why not?)</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Mail my Christmas cards by December 1st</b> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>- F</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Fail. Total fail. I never even got cards printed, let alone mailed. I was SO busy with my holiday photo studio it was the furthest thing from my mind. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- De-clutter every room in our house</b> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>- C</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We got a lot of the house de-cluttered...out of necessity for finding a spot for baby girl to fit. But I didn't get to everything like I'd wanted. I'll just keep on trucking with this one. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- 20 pages in Nathan's Navy scrapbook <span style="font-size: large;">- F</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I didn't even do ONE page in any scrapbook this year. Not one. I need to try and fix that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- 20 pages in Miles' scrapbook <span style="font-size: large;">- F</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">See above</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Read the entire Book of Mormon <span style="font-size: large;">- D</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ok, so I read scriptures over the course of the year...but it was mostly according to topic or research for a lesson, etc. I didn't sit down and read the BOM <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(or bible for that matter) </i></span>from cover to cover. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b> </b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Read one book a month - of my choice. <span style="font-size: large;">- C</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I sat and thought about this one today...wondering if I actually did it. And some months I can remember exactly what I might have read and others? Not so much. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>- Keep up with the Sunday School lessons - F</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This one just completely fell by the wayside. Keeping up with the Sharing Time lessons each week in addition to the lessons for the primary classes <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(we have teachers no-show almost every week...we need to be prepared) </i></span>kept me busy. <b><br /></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well it seems to me that the ones I did - I did <span style="font-size: large;">fantastically</span>. And the ones I didn't - well, they just didn't even make it off the ground. But you know what? I'm not going to focus on those that I failed. <span style="font-size: large;">I had an amazing year.</span> I pushed myself to limits I thought I'd never reach. I started running again, I even managed to get in four official races before I had to stop in July <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(puking 24/7 really takes the steam out of ya...and by the time the puking stopped I was SO jiggly from my growing appendages it hurt to run).</i></span> I poured my heart into getting healthy...and it blessed me back 100 fold. Knees felt better, I slept better, I felt comfortable in my own skin...and my stupid reproductive system fixed itself and I got pregnant. I have loved seeing my photo studio really get off the ground. It makes me feel so good when strangers tell me they were referred to me by a former client. I love it when clients make the photos I took their profile pics on FB or their Christmas card picture. I love capturing sweet little faces...because they grow so quickly. My language skills have made our time here easier. I like finally being able to chit chat with people after church or at the market. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And as I mentioned <a href="http://sunnysideupsidedown.blogspot.com/2013/12/keep-plates-spinning.html" target="_blank"><u>before</u></a>...my 2014 resolutions are simple: spin only the important plates. So here it goes:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>1- Lead a healthy life, for myself and also as an example to my family</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>2- Try to be a better example of a follower of Christ</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>3- Spend more time doing things to make me & my family happy and spend less time worrying about making others happy</b></span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-61679128718768545722014-01-02T17:07:00.000+01:002014-01-04T17:14:00.358+01:00Good news!<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Back in July we decided we were going to submit an official request to stay in Italy an extra year beyond our three. Usually you hear back within a week or so, but not us. As the weeks turned into months we wondered if maybe we should pull the request and just leave in a year as planned. Well today we heard the good news - our request was approved! We will now be in Italy until January 2016. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was a tough decision - it is hard being so far away from family, and life in a foreign tree can be very frustrating. But there is a lot we love about living here...and the timing is perfect. Miles can stay in pre-school here and we'll move back before he starts kindergarten. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So you've been given an extra year to come see us - get saving and plan a trip to Italy!! We also now have an additional year to work more on our travel bucket list. </span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-85910612358065319362013-12-27T10:04:00.000+01:002013-12-27T10:04:00.934+01:00Bag lady<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You know it's interesting. I have attended <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(or plan to attend)</i></span> a few childbirth classes in prep for baby girl's impending arrival, and I've declined others. The receptionist at the OB clinic is always surprised when I say no to classes like "New Dad" or "Newborn Basics". She'll tell me they are wonderful classes and I should attend to learn some valuable things to help with the new baby. I tell her this isn't our first - well, sort of - it's our first pregnancy and delivery, but not first baby. Once the baby comes out - we're golden! It's the getting the baby here and getting her out <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(ouch...) </i></span>that makes me a wee bit nervous. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So with that being said, there is something I need advice on from all my momma friends. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The hospital bag(s) </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When we left for the hospital for Miles it was a mad dash, pack fast, throw everything into the car, drive 26 hours, buy what we forget at Target kind of deal. This go around I have quite a bit more time to plan - so I plan on taking advantage of that! I have read a few books and online forums and baby websites about what to pack...but I'm looking for real-world advice from been-there-done-that moms. Things like this gem from my friend Carlie: buy depends...they are much more comfortable than the mesh "undies" the hospital gives you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So I'm curious - </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">-How many bags did you pack? <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(some suggest a labor bag, post-delivery bag, hubby bag, and a baby bag...that seems like a lot of bags)</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- What did you take that you didn't use?<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> (everything I take will have to be schlepped down and then back up 60 stairs...I don't want to take unnecessary stuff!)</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- What did you not pack that you wish you would have? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And any other random tips you have for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A quick few things...the hospital here does not have a DVD player, or a cafeteria <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(except for during breakfast & lunch time...it's a military hospital, so it's a galley for the workers)</i></span>. They do not provide pacifiers or formula <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(formula will be used only in the event of an urgent need for the baby)</i></span>. We will have no access to any sort of prepared food <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(cafeteria, fast food, etc)</span></i> after 8pm. I will have my own room <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(yay - I don't like to share). </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Granted ALL of this changes if I go into labor before 37 weeks. Because this hospital isn't equipped with a NICU, if I go into labor before 37 weeks they will not even allow me to labor at the hospital...they'll send me out in town to an Italian hospital and it's a completely different world at one of those. So my fingers, toes, and legs are crossed that we make it to Valentine's Day...that's 37 weeks!</span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-86433791935993173352013-12-12T22:29:00.001+01:002013-12-12T22:32:30.455+01:00Keep the plates spinning<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You know those fancy trick guys who put a plate on top of a stick, spin it, and keep it spinning without falling off? I've been thinking about those guys a lot the last couple days. And it reminds me of life. We all have things to keep spinning. Sometimes we are the one who starts the plate and other times a stick is handed to us and we just have to keep it going. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the last few months I have felt - in more moments than I care to share - that I wasn't going to be able to keep all my plates spinning. Wife, mother, photographer, ombudsman, friend, teacher, cook, maid, daughter, sister, etc, etc, etc... it was a lot to keep spinning all at once. The thing is, you never know how close you are to that point until you are <span style="font-size: large;">to that point</span>. People would hand me spinning plates and I'd gladly take them. I'd see others struggling with a plate so I'd offer to take it. Then I'd think, huh, a pink spinning plate would be cool...so I'd start a pink spinning plate. And then I'd stack plates on top of ones already spinning. And all the plates are great and <span style="font-size: large;">need</span> someone to spin them, and I am more than capable, so why not me? And every once in a while one would <span style="font-size: x-large;">wobble</span> a bit and require a little extra TLC to keep it from toppling off it's precarious perch. <span style="font-size: large;">And that was fine.</span> I'd take my eyes off the steady spinners long enough to tame the nervous plate. But then I had more than one wobble at the same time...and the wobbles became more than wobbles and I didn't have enough eyes or hands to tame the finicky dishes. I did my best to keep them all from falling, but some did. And the unfortunate thing is the ones that fell are some of the ones that matter most to me. I was so concerned about keeping plates spinning that could have been kept going by someone else that a few of my own crashed to pieces. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Over the last month I have learned a few things:<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I don't need to spin all the plates.</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It's ok to sometimes say no to someone who wants you to spin one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It's even ok to ask someone else to take one and have a turn spinning it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Next year I will spin less plates, and I'll only spin the ones that REALLY matter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It's my only resolution. </span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-33254157041154297032013-12-01T22:33:00.000+01:002013-12-01T22:33:13.871+01:00"Perks" of living in Italy<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There are so many wonderful things about living in Italy - but there are days that I long for the <span style="font-size: large;">comforts</span> and <span style="font-size: large;">conveniences</span> of home. I think the honeymoon phase of our Italian life has definitely passed. For example. It is <b><span style="font-size: large;">cold</span></b>. I've mentioned that before, and YES I grew up in Utah with snow and freezing temps but you know what we also had? Insulated houses and central heating. Here all the houses are made of cinder block and have NO insulation. We can run our radiators or a space heater and it will take the chill off but because the walls/ceiling/floor are cement the heat goes away very quickly. When we wake up our house is routinely <span style="font-size: large;"><b>50 degrees</b></span>...INSIDE. I'll turn the radiators on <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(oh how I wish they could be set on a timer!) </i></span>for an hour to take the bite out of the air. But once I take Miles to school I just layer, layer, layer to keep warm. Thermal undies, leggings, sweatpants, hoodie, socks, and slippers. I will run a space heater under my desk while I work...and that is heaven! In the evening we'll run the radiators for another hour, maybe...only if it's super cold. Why don't we just run the radiators all day you ask? Well...because it is <span style="font-size: large;">SPENDY</span>. Like, super spendy. We figured out that we use 7 litres of gas for every hour the radiators are on. Gas is about $1/litre. So if we have the radiators on for 3 hours a day for the month it would end up costing us about <span style="font-size: large;">$600/month</span>. And that only keeps our house warm for <span style="font-size: large;"><b>THREE hours a day.</b></span>..the rest of the time it would hover between 50-55 degrees. That is a LOT of money to pay for not a lot of comfort. Hence the reason for the layering and the snuggies and the massive quantities of hot chocolate/cider/tea ingested. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Also - the power. <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Oh mamma mia.</b></span> If it rains, our power goes out. If we have too many things plugged in, the power goes out. If it surges <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(which happens almost every day at least once)</i></span>, the power goes out. And <i><b>"too many things"</b></i> is not many at all. For example...I cannot run the washer and dryer at the same time as a space heater <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(or the oven, or the microwave)</i></span>. So earlier this week when Miles had rotovirus and I had 4+ loads of laundry to do <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(our washer/dryer are TINY) </i></span>I had the choice...clean, barf-free clothes/sheets/blankets or warm feet. I opted for barf free and put on an extra pair of socks. So we froze all day while I did the four batches of laundry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Imagine it is 5:30pm and you are hungry...and you don't want to cook dinner. In America your options are <span style="font-size: large;">unlimited</span>....well, limited only by budget. Here? <span style="font-size: large;">Nothing. </span>Restaurants will all be closed still from riposo and won't re-open for dinner for another hour and a half at least. There is a McDonald's at the airport...and a Burger King over near IKEA...both are 30+ minutes away and not what I want. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And everything will get done <span style="font-size: large;"><b>"domani" </b></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(tomorrow)</i></span>. We have been having problems with our cell phone company since MARCH. They keep saying "give us a week and we'll fix it". Yep...it's been a LOT of weeks and nothing is done. Customer service is non-existent here in Italy. You don't like it? Tough. Even when I threatened legal intervention I was laughed at! Our landlords seem to be the exception to "domani". If something is broken or needs attention they help that day - or at the VERY latest the next. We are SO grateful to have them! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Italian food is amazing. Seriously. But what I would give for a plate of sushi. Or a bowl of Thai curry. Or Chick-fil-A. Or <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(gasp!)</span></i> Olive Garden's salad. Italians aren't big on other culture's food. At all. We found one "Chinese" place that does ok...but it's almost an Italian's interpretation of Chinese food. And there are a couple sushi places downtown Naples...but I hear mixed reviews. I can make things of course - provided I can find the ingredients. Cilantro, avocados, and yellow squash are hit or miss at the base grocery store. And things like Lemongrass and masago and spaghetti squash are impossible to find. I've found raspberries here twice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Speaking of food. A lot has recently come out in the media about thousands of tons of toxic <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(in some cases nuclear) </i></span>waste being buried all around where we live...in the towns where our produce is grown. It is frightening. It's obviously not good for us...but then if we were in the states we'd be dealing with GMO's...not sure which is worse. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I know this seems like a whiny post - and it is. I love living in Italy 90% of the time. But I've had a rough week here and I need to vent. And I also want to have this down so when I'm back in the US someday feeling nostalgic for Italy that I can remember that it wasn't all smiles and butterflies. Not that living in the US is all smiles and butterflies either...</span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-67791607532076763232013-11-30T22:53:00.001+01:002013-11-30T22:53:58.366+01:00New flash<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I
got a new flash for my camera and the other night I was playing around with
it. The bursts of light naturally attracted the attention of my curious two year old. Miles would giggle and yell "ouch!" every time the flash went off.
Not sure why he said ouch...silly kid. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the midst of all his giggles I caught this perfect cheesy smile:</span><br />
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<img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyopH_AkSzP5l_aDxes3t6CkPRweTQF3Sm2URC1lN6lwe1YO-Qyyy_CJw_srxjixSJUAt5xaVaWHaA2pHZbCGaaFlKhKNCY_EAgzMT8VI_31XGQIBwdlM0v0giZrnk2jG3Y0K/s640/milescheeser.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-42891847262910014552013-11-04T22:18:00.002+01:002013-11-04T22:18:45.236+01:00Growing Belly<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I've been taking snapshots of me as the pregnancy progresses. Instead of posting them all here I thought I'd give them their own tab...so should you have the desire to view my ever enlarging abdomen, see the "Growing Belly" tab above. </span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-44825651941681673302013-11-03T22:11:00.000+01:002013-11-04T22:19:00.359+01:00Halloween<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It is no secret that Halloween is my <span style="font-size: large;"><b>most favorite</b></span> of holidays. I've had the boys' costumes planned for months...and I was going to be a ring girl, but with the changes in my body I couldn't find something that worked...so I had to improvise. We had lots of Halloweening this year - which is just the way I like it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">First up was the big Spooktacular event at the base:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMRS__cSbMH6yYf2skPtAi8ij6DtYIuR23z1JFjP996JLMyItmTlr3h8bkCjDf94GfMdGih8Wvb3oI_cIkUSS2ruJl8j_3pPURSIlVKlPuU2NiumzkbN1CrgDPYYSyL43SFuQs/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-11-04+at+9.50.04+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMRS__cSbMH6yYf2skPtAi8ij6DtYIuR23z1JFjP996JLMyItmTlr3h8bkCjDf94GfMdGih8Wvb3oI_cIkUSS2ruJl8j_3pPURSIlVKlPuU2NiumzkbN1CrgDPYYSyL43SFuQs/s400/Screen+Shot+2013-11-04+at+9.50.04+PM.png" width="262" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Next was a Trunk-or-Treat with our church friends. Let me tell you...trying to get ALL those kids to hold still and all look the same way was IMPOSSIBLE. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And finally one of our friends hosted a party on Halloween. Miles wore his costume, Nathan wore his football jersey...and I went as a pregnant zombie. :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7uMat3LE9di-zr8H-jEXPaZwMG0iFRS9T3slD0wgmC2W392Vhea8XfAGbx8n64nKqoKjtlbugP2IwyLdJVBZlRDjmyizZzdx56611g4ApwuHoxMv4syMjvr9tWShnNRTIcBJY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-11-04+at+10.02.07+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7uMat3LE9di-zr8H-jEXPaZwMG0iFRS9T3slD0wgmC2W392Vhea8XfAGbx8n64nKqoKjtlbugP2IwyLdJVBZlRDjmyizZzdx56611g4ApwuHoxMv4syMjvr9tWShnNRTIcBJY/s400/Screen+Shot+2013-11-04+at+10.02.07+PM.png" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I love Halloween...I'm already trying to come up with costumes for FOUR for next year!</span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19397583.post-25120571429233898542013-10-23T22:27:00.001+02:002013-10-23T22:31:35.697+02:00Blue or Pink...what do you think?!<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Last week we gathered with our closest friends<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> (those who live here)</i></span> and our Italian family to find out the gender of Baby W. I had my anatomy scan appointment that morning and we told our ultrasound tech that we wanted to know the gender but we didn't want her to tell us. We wanted her to write it down and put it in an envelope. The day before the appointment I had made a huge bag of pink and a huge bag of blue confetti; after the appointment we took those bags, along with the sealed envelope, to the florist shop on base. We told her to open it and if it said <i><b>"girl"</b></i> to put the pink confetti in the balloons and if it said <i><b>"boy" </b></i>to use the blue confetti. About 30 minutes later we picked up 15 black balloons filled with confetti and took them home. It was so hard having them sit in the living room, knowing they <span style="font-size: large;">held a secret</span> that I could easily discover if I would just pop one. But I figured I had waited 20 weeks<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> (well...in actuality about 9 years)</i></span> so I could wait a few more hours. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Nathan and I picked up the house, got the stuff ready for the party, then snagged a quick cat-nap before we picked Miles up from school. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNrV7G8iVuhAZAaFA3xrJkBZmAskd9FOFD-mwAny6CJY3g0ji0fdki9LXNFGGTkLOaTVc_ZFDn3VmW8G5HOC2rBpcnIiT87ml0jUIAqeV7Lp6YBnj2KuWtPOdVhbD4PgL8Aab/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-10-23+at+10.16.03+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNrV7G8iVuhAZAaFA3xrJkBZmAskd9FOFD-mwAny6CJY3g0ji0fdki9LXNFGGTkLOaTVc_ZFDn3VmW8G5HOC2rBpcnIiT87ml0jUIAqeV7Lp6YBnj2KuWtPOdVhbD4PgL8Aab/s400/Screen+Shot+2013-10-23+at+10.16.03+PM.png" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Our guests started showing up around 5:45. As they showed up we took a poll:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rZ239ytMHRth38URMmrNFgmxWWsr1_UclWSeM6jmmekzV985DYWLxpx9phwl9rqc0ToefiWt91vdLjXenu4dcRDXy1xxI0_EVZIQ-3oDcgFWm1MNKS8EVpocovKGPrCHPLpp/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-10-23+at+10.16.31+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6rZ239ytMHRth38URMmrNFgmxWWsr1_UclWSeM6jmmekzV985DYWLxpx9phwl9rqc0ToefiWt91vdLjXenu4dcRDXy1xxI0_EVZIQ-3oDcgFWm1MNKS8EVpocovKGPrCHPLpp/s400/Screen+Shot+2013-10-23+at+10.16.31+PM.png" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At 6:15 we Facetime'd my mom so she could see it live. Then we passed out the balloons and pins...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmy3Bu5gzqhRjkhIh6Dj24AjOy2uJ1YLJvuHmX_F5pgSA5AvlNQo4a7iL86glwz6_-XRvxVch3IEEWqJpRm1lGsvBnTPx-RHmbcLyr8TmqDiF8XZHS603vUmNe8SBQ8cePycFe/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-10-23+at+10.16.17+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmy3Bu5gzqhRjkhIh6Dj24AjOy2uJ1YLJvuHmX_F5pgSA5AvlNQo4a7iL86glwz6_-XRvxVch3IEEWqJpRm1lGsvBnTPx-RHmbcLyr8TmqDiF8XZHS603vUmNe8SBQ8cePycFe/s400/Screen+Shot+2013-10-23+at+10.16.17+PM.png" width="263" /></a></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQi3mfvrB2rQ4TjtlAEUKa0ItC1yzxQbb8rmEMidayzf9PceI9MjJjl2nfs01u6A-o-v0XOMMAaqo_lTde94L0FW-0TL5PGuUo-oAKSrOWOLtXAL7Zf1SgnN5YYS4G3xpX54c/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-10-23+at+10.16.58+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQi3mfvrB2rQ4TjtlAEUKa0ItC1yzxQbb8rmEMidayzf9PceI9MjJjl2nfs01u6A-o-v0XOMMAaqo_lTde94L0FW-0TL5PGuUo-oAKSrOWOLtXAL7Zf1SgnN5YYS4G3xpX54c/s400/Screen+Shot+2013-10-23+at+10.16.58+PM.png" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Becky was our official mom "FaceTimer"</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXjBI6OM_Hs8JCmtrYIbOMM78tzlYjRj2BMQz9KBOtL9znmUAWVbmeZ-PFK2j1vkxLHBWCTWNwlnr6REIhRmKP-AWHWy3iTYgb3a_oR0fILE7B_TZEu8qMKfUIgiN6nzDjuJMN/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-10-23+at+10.17.14+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXjBI6OM_Hs8JCmtrYIbOMM78tzlYjRj2BMQz9KBOtL9znmUAWVbmeZ-PFK2j1vkxLHBWCTWNwlnr6REIhRmKP-AWHWy3iTYgb3a_oR0fILE7B_TZEu8qMKfUIgiN6nzDjuJMN/s400/Screen+Shot+2013-10-23+at+10.17.14+PM.png" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And counted to three...and POP</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Baby W is a GIRL!!!</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If you want to watch the video:</span><br />
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<center>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/k33LQejZKqo" width="560"></iframe></center>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16676530868449226811noreply@blogger.com2