tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76446218852304064202024-02-20T17:02:52.313-08:00Harms Family NewsCatch up on the latest with Tim, Nicole, Miss N, Miss M, Miss C and Cookie the Bagel (beagle).MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.comBlogger494125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-42493411551293344242015-03-25T14:35:00.000-07:002015-03-25T14:35:20.707-07:00On Leaving a Legacy<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<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/AVvXsEir6YT83GLFCaoDH4zFGDki_329hmlQBzJKSJGMTz3jW6sxe-gP-NdVeAwWsVeuRaXcvXTqeN7cJJBJkyeBuQw0P3YcvMj09ZJOmbLtIa4SWpqYB2ZNse89JAX95ErZSNnwDS-44NajqFBF/s1600/3292434691_392071d702_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir6YT83GLFCaoDH4zFGDki_329hmlQBzJKSJGMTz3jW6sxe-gP-NdVeAwWsVeuRaXcvXTqeN7cJJBJkyeBuQw0P3YcvMj09ZJOmbLtIa4SWpqYB2ZNse89JAX95ErZSNnwDS-44NajqFBF/s1600/3292434691_392071d702_z.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/walkadog/3292434691/in/photolist-bBWVQm-bBWVLQ-bQRBqz-cv66Xm-4FXFgm-66HPDX-6PadQ8-61WA8n-qK2fBP-7GHUou-bqqvMU-7GHVhA-7GHW5J-aA3wqi-fGTVa6-7GDYtR-7GDXZK-7GHRvw-8DdJA8-8DdJiv-bApAD8-8DdH8g-6qoSQ7-8kZviL-R3VhC-ucERd-7GDZkP-7GHToj-PuR2E-4Cpo4M-dcbdUq-4Cpohc-7GDVs2-f9nqWW-f98bT6-8PWziS-55gSnH-9aQQVx-dcbmLe-7GDZ9i-7GJXtY-7GF1Kg-f9M7G4-8KRS7F-dcbnE5-7GJWts-7GF2nM-6PenVJ-dG59tS-tZXYh">Flickr.com</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This past week, a Christian blogger passed away. I did not
really follow her story too closely, nor did I know her, but my social media
feeds have exploded with posts during her final weeks, including a post posted
after her death to her readers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This woman had an intense impact on many people. Her words
were beautiful. Her love for her family was deeply obvious.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two years ago today, a young woman I grew up connected to
also died of cancer. She left behind five children and a loving husband. Not a
blogger and less a public figure, although married to one, her life and death
no less touched many, especially the joy with which she traveled through her
final days. Her funeral was livestreamed and attended by hundreds.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes when I hear of the impact and legacies left behind
by women like that, I find myself comparing my life to theirs. Would I have
rooms full of friends at my death bed? I doubt it. Would I have an audience
full of people reading my last words? No, because I have chosen not to develop
this little blog as a major platform, and while I write all day long, my words
are not inspirational unless your name happens to be Google.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet, as I reflect back on what made these women great, was
it really something any different than what Christ commands of everyone? It's the
day to day faithfulness, loving of people and loving of Christ that makes women
like these shine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And all so often I fall so short, with eyes turned inward instead
of outward and upward. I hear myself snapping at my children because the stresses of the day get to me, and find myself thinking a good mom would not do that. I think of ways to help a friend after the help is needed, and realize that a true friend would have met the need quickly.
I realize a need presented itself after it has already been fulfilled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Should I try to be like these women, so I have a legacy when
Christ calls me home?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Actually, I think the answer is no.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead, I think the answer is that I should strive to know
my God, reflect Him in my life and learn to see others the way He does. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The legacy? Does it matter? Not really. What matters is
entering eternity knowing I have done what I can to serve the One who died for
me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perhaps, when you focus on that, the legacy stops mattering,
right at the time you are creating it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And perhaps, this, in truth, is where I fall so deeply short.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet, don't we all?</div>
MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-80068344503829493352014-09-16T19:12:00.002-07:002014-09-16T19:12:58.731-07:00On Mommyhood and Teasing<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
"Mom, I'm not going to tell you who I played with
today."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mommy radar goes up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Oh really? Was it someone younger than you?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Nope, it wasn't a girl at all."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Oh, was it a boy then?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Yeah," </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then comes a story of innocent teasing as is common with
most children. It's nothing major. But it hurts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As she sits there, shoulders heaving with the effort of
unloading, my mind races back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I'm in sixth grade. We're in line for the restroom. He
stands a few people behind me in the boys' line. The cool guy. The cute one. </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>"Nicole has a little horse, little horse, little
horse. Nicole has a little horse, and oh she loves it so." He sings.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Innocent? Maybe, but it was done in jest and it stung. I shrunk a
little inside myself to keep from crying. I wanted to hide. The teacher didn't
notice. I felt ashamed by my love for horses.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"I just don't get it. I mean, I can play with boys and
it doesn't mean I love them."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I'm sitting in fourth grade, a knot in my stomach. She's
going to beat me up she said. Tomorrow. Before school. The principal said he
can do nothing if it happens outside of the school building. What can I do? </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>She pushes me. She steps on my foot and pushes hard.
"Fight, fight, fight" they all holler. I stand there, not sure what
to do. Turn the other cheek. Don't hit back. </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dad. My
wonderful dad, comes across the parking lot. My hero. He rescues me.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"What happens if you ask her to stop?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"She stops, for that day, I guess"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"If you have fun playing with boys, then play! Don't
let what someone else says change who you are."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The conversation is over, but not my flashbacks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I'm in the classroom where we changed after gym class.
All the girls are looking at a notebook. She had written "most likely to
succeed, most likely to get married, etc.," I look for my name. There it
was.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>"Most nerdy."</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>This was before the term "nerd" was cool. Hot,
wet tears sting my eyes. I won't let them see me cry. It's too late. The tears
are falling.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>She sees me.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>"Oh, um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to see
that."</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>We head to class, tears streaming. Can't stop. The
teacher notices. Quietly, she sets a box of tissues on my desk and continues
with her lesson. No one knows how deeply I am hurt. No one realizes those words
will live with me for years.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm a mom now. I have three (three!) little girls in my
care. Sensitive souls who take every word to heart. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want to raise them to be tough. I want to raise girls who
can ignore the teasing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don't know how.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want them to realize their worth comes from within, from a
family who loves them and a Savior who died for them. They are fearfully and
wonderfully made.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don't know how. I never learned, and I had the best, most
supportive parents on earth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I hear these stories. I want to protect them. I want to make the teasing stop. It's part of life, I know, but it's something I wish in my deepest heart I could protect them from. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet, kids are cruel. And kids sometimes don't mean to be
cruel but things are taken the wrong way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This mommy gig? It's a hard one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pray I can teach them not to perpetuate the teasing and to
love being different.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pray I can show them their true worth, which comes from
more than what others think of them.</div>
MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-63464706576472378662014-02-21T12:44:00.002-08:002014-02-21T12:44:33.213-08:00Miss M (Has Been for a While) Is Five!<div align="center">
Five and a half years ago, God blessed us with this 10 lb. 4 oz bundle of energy.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxAARCojZGRo_L7VWdBGGVPtiziQX5oKWR_XE-pgzCT-ePw5kpoUAAjpmbMNQZ1bsPDhnBUR4zC2_jeKO2C8UcEwy7XIExmthHx0i-N9-_mQnBgpBnwp2pPhPUvEgjrtTaX71f8roRJ8e/s1600/100_0861.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxAARCojZGRo_L7VWdBGGVPtiziQX5oKWR_XE-pgzCT-ePw5kpoUAAjpmbMNQZ1bsPDhnBUR4zC2_jeKO2C8UcEwy7XIExmthHx0i-N9-_mQnBgpBnwp2pPhPUvEgjrtTaX71f8roRJ8e/s320/100_0861.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635994333229803842" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>Miss M, one day old</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1iOG2tV8GQtnx-RHg1TkLgKRWtgG39cn3wTruPDmurtxdO0Ur0HWZ55WeRQ9qw9_WQksVV0lpevKZeFVIxSk0Z97kw527EXimilkjYvKN7dB99Tvkg6NdJAaQSzOerbGxWOr9O78hTzaP/s320/101_0293.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635994343179240050" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" />Miss M, one year old</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7orcV9Nx_OlvMaFBlOBu_H3WZYD4ZOV97N8leA-pfX6kS7akyIOR2BvTGU7YOwm0qmLxTyYa3vDedgPQ65GTxPkT-8yNWU3C8ezWAv291VQnzzYz8eoxZ5NV00ETuMYhWqf2XcG6BU11H/s1600/P1090687.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7orcV9Nx_OlvMaFBlOBu_H3WZYD4ZOV97N8leA-pfX6kS7akyIOR2BvTGU7YOwm0qmLxTyYa3vDedgPQ65GTxPkT-8yNWU3C8ezWAv291VQnzzYz8eoxZ5NV00ETuMYhWqf2XcG6BU11H/s320/P1090687.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635993662486069298" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Miss M, two years old</div>
<img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dp1IB1RdrrkcCKKOkqcO4TS3zh3aIJYVMEW1CHszyDvt4uO1CvnVxBONrKOyZ2syJejWe6gkSwENomFPhIRHp8GdFFoZcGTJ_Zk7YN3epampqTo9AjgsbTYNNpmlPZP7hQ3WUgDrbJ2U/s320/IMG_6307.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635993668327980610" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 214px;" /><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Miss M, three years old.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhcp_JmXsYJ7G8_xtHcu-rH2LosVkq-IFJj35HQjidgfN_I5jaAqr1-D_oUdyf9GNsGaYOEQjJyxMFCfQOKen3D2MEeNyXbLcyvwcAiFzrpyRMdtENl0wei1kmq1_aQ3B-z0ZTPp-3uRj/s1600/IMG_1472.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhcp_JmXsYJ7G8_xtHcu-rH2LosVkq-IFJj35HQjidgfN_I5jaAqr1-D_oUdyf9GNsGaYOEQjJyxMFCfQOKen3D2MEeNyXbLcyvwcAiFzrpyRMdtENl0wei1kmq1_aQ3B-z0ZTPp-3uRj/s320/IMG_1472.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Miss M, four years old<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2r3GnpwtGEA3rZRPHeDfkk9Jc4wG2xXEJ6jDtCVWJpmwzxU1ohrKlUrKIy80VIgobbnlf79v3AZmAex3Eq_nXMpF9dirMBR7WAArIKHuR6gxnkplb8v4zSs0jOZcAKG8GOIpF3TpFqUy/s1600/IMG_0895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2r3GnpwtGEA3rZRPHeDfkk9Jc4wG2xXEJ6jDtCVWJpmwzxU1ohrKlUrKIy80VIgobbnlf79v3AZmAex3Eq_nXMpF9dirMBR7WAArIKHuR6gxnkplb8v4zSs0jOZcAKG8GOIpF3TpFqUy/s1600/IMG_0895.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Miss M, Age 5</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
In the midst of moving, first birthday parties and rental
house prep, I just realized that I never did Miss M's fifth-birthday post. So
here's to you Miss M, my big 5 (and a half) year old.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At age 5, Miss M has conquered quite a few fears. She's
getting more and more comfortable swimming, has conquered the fear of
"real school" and even dealt with her first bully. That was an
experience, let me tell you!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year, my sweet M has changed into one of the sweetest,
most thoughtful children I know. While she has her moments, as any child does,
I can count on her to be thinking in a sensitive way. She tears up when Pluto
gets yelled at by Mickey Mouse on the TV, and worries about her family all the
time because she loves them. This sweet child will constantly buy soething at
the school store with her behavior dollars for her big sister, not herself. Hse
is my snuggler, and is constantly saying "can we snuggle?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year M learned:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">How to
read</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">How to
wash her hair</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">How to
make bracelets</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">How to
stand up for herself</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">How to
do gymnastics, jumping into level 2 with just one session</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">How to
fin and glide in the pool</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of my favorite stories from this year happened when Miss
M came home from school one day. She had a picture of a girl wit hstraight hair
and a girl with curly hair. I asked her if this was her friend A who has curly
hair, and she said "No. Because of the hearts. It's me and you, mommy,
because I love you. I don't love with hugs and kisses my friends, just my
mom."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love you too sweet girl!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Miss M</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wow, you are five years old! I can't believe that my
bouncing 10 pound baby is now a smart, silly and sassy five-year old. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Miss M, you are one of the sweetest little girls I know.
Your sensitive heart makes you fearful of many things, yet it also gives you
the ability to look out for others. You want your friends and sisters to be
happy just as much as you want yourself to be happy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rarely does a day go by that I don't get a sweet picture you
drew. Now that you are learning how to read, you often include a note as well.
Don't worry, M, Mommy loves you too, and I always will, even when you get too
big to draw sweet pictures for me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rarely does a day go by that you don't make me laugh out
loud. You are a true joy to my heart. I am so thankful for you baby girl! I am
so thankful for your snuggles, your laugh and your silliness. Being five is
pretty fun, isn't it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As you push towards six years old, I pray that you will
retain your sweet spirit. Don't let anyone take that away from you, precious
girl. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So happy birthday, my sweet M, even if it is a bit late. I
love you more than words can say, and I'm so happy to be your momma!</div>
</div>
MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-53582151200156807592013-12-18T18:42:00.000-08:002013-12-18T18:42:04.557-08:00It Gets Better! <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I know there's probably no one left who reads this blog, but
I want to say one thing to encourage those parenting a difficult child.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It gets better. Shower them with love and be as consistent
as you can, and it gets better.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you have been my Facebook friend for a few years, you may
know that there was a very difficult period with one of my children when she
was in the toddler and early preschool years. There were days I questioned my
sanity. There were days I questioned (my mom can attest to this) whether or not
I was fit to parent this child. I recall vividly sitting on the floor in the hallway on that nasty blue carpet in our old house crying because I didn't know what to do, while she sat on the other side of the wall screaming and throwing a tantrum I was sure would cause the neighbors to call the cops. I recall far too many times I lost my temper because I just didn't know what else to do. I was even told once that it didn't appear I
loved this child (I did, fiercely, but it was HARD)! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even up until this past summer, we had our moments.
Knock-down-drag-out fits that rivaled anything you could imagine happened regularly.
These were the types of fits I always said never happened to children who were
properly loved and disciplined in my pre-child years, and here they were
happening in my own home! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, quite suddenly, it all stopped. Not to say that we
don't have occasional battles of the wills, I think all kids do, but the
severity of it all has diminished significantly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then something surprising happened. Now, I can say that
this child is a true delight to my heart. She makes me smile almost every
single day, has the funniest things to say and truly cares about the needs of others.
Almost every day I get a picture of me, her and lots of hearts, just because she
loves me. She never fails to surprise me with her caring attitude. Today she
was in tears watching a Christmas Mickey show because Mickey yelled at Pluto
and sent him out and Pluto ran away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you had told me three years ago that the screaming,
flailing child at my feet would turn into this sensitive, caring creature, I
would not have believed you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It gets better. That difficult child can turn into a real
joy to your heart.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just keep loving her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm so glad I did!</div>
MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-29978790671042582562013-06-05T13:06:00.001-07:002013-06-05T13:07:43.868-07:00Happy 7th Birthday Miss N (VERY Late)<div align="center">
<br />
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In the last four months, life has been a whirlwind. We found
out in January-ish that moving into a larger home was very much a possibility.
Thus began a scramble to find a home, move and find renters for our current
home. I'm thrilled to say that God caused it all to line up perfectly, but in
the midst of that all I realized I failed to do Miss N's seventh birthday post.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year in March my oldest daughter turned seven. She's
making the transition from little girl to just "girl." I can't really
call her little anymore, even though she is short in stature, and probably will
be my shortest as they grow.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turning seven has brought a bit of maturity to my child.
It's also caused a spunky, fun-loving side to really come out. She always has
something to say, and always thinks her idea is the best. Often, I must admit
it is, which is challenging as a parent who wants to teach modesty and the
ability to not manipulate but to appreciate others. When you <i>are</i> always
right, it's harder to see other people's view. But we're working on it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year, Miss N:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Learned
how to read chapter books</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Moved for the first time</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Stopped napping for real </li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Learned
how to read music</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Learned
how to swim</li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Learned
to write stories</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">All in all, she is turning into a delightful child. I
can't believe I've been a Mommy for seven years! </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAXcsyVzwjxP8n1-1uDdufUDWFTRXklLNDj0LLN-nPCIqUOphyV1h5cdzN85KbbTRUYHt2wcjRXkuB5cx1hT74VMbfg1Bv_f3hhVy0YSAxnN7to8d4akXsD7aLZWqusA1_HQYjDr6e3kVh/s1600-h/100_0605.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446488915117379282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAXcsyVzwjxP8n1-1uDdufUDWFTRXklLNDj0LLN-nPCIqUOphyV1h5cdzN85KbbTRUYHt2wcjRXkuB5cx1hT74VMbfg1Bv_f3hhVy0YSAxnN7to8d4akXsD7aLZWqusA1_HQYjDr6e3kVh/s320/100_0605.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
Day 1</div>
<div align="left">
<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/AVvXsEhcQGzejtveBoRsvLgWLih5ILhmfr_5vV4ABNC2e_Jg1Ib5N_yeWgofqJUDPVpH8OiSUvhtItUvvugVVEojRgVYSSSfJAShhqWULYv2tMndem7YcgVf1RyRdJqwIQGQMBB-AN5vwOuoyC-I/s1600/Misc+081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446488942680981618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQGzejtveBoRsvLgWLih5ILhmfr_5vV4ABNC2e_Jg1Ib5N_yeWgofqJUDPVpH8OiSUvhtItUvvugVVEojRgVYSSSfJAShhqWULYv2tMndem7YcgVf1RyRdJqwIQGQMBB-AN5vwOuoyC-I/s320/Misc+081.jpg" style="display: block; height: 240px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Age 1</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446488935072396274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT9iQOsPWIGQAWJvwAnYDdAv2jkWzduCmr-UeBo1D4Ut4DAk1iF_kmmzzzYaLueTWUxdiI2FHIgBDlhsQjwIpJ2BOux6leEMYQPKn4Xo2Y6yYW1XnwyooFkPOm4Fe3tCNTnPQpCzvlmoLi/s320/31.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /><br />
<div align="center">
Two Years Old</div>
<div align="center">
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446488925831433986" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13xb0Kg6Ni-fWLp-8XCCGwKQ0eU4t3S7_e2WZq86riNz4gwkk8LnRJ64HUPcTFw8c7eW3R4crart5xojunKap5zE9lDXP1lJoxybq5hkiZGfnAxAR9WBB88CoSIyugHuZdxnVi0TNP8d1/s320/P1010178.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" />Three Years Old</div>
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446489340888668546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1TU6g_Y5asv_RWeuqfD1g1z99Qd3orlu7HDwpqEU-Zu-X778fEj6dGbzymHBDXBmRT8jy12SoNC9Rs7LxD9XXMGPNcL2_qEcR1L_mHOpR9OYwCLHRob3A0vqYoH9hJB45qlKzPangwBtR/s320/100_1777.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /><br />
<div align="center">
Four Years Old!</div>
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582290994409677362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHvlRu6SUTMW2Dv28p5aIDbZPL4W85C4wi_UGbRbK-NPc6pNv9Fx3t3NnN0QA_N3uNykkQfODAhpfCw_SKTZPKdtbz4gJzKDK4pF7WrVTwo68SAkQpLIm-aWbjLExXWZcu2o-OAVwRkjLY/s320/P1110416.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /> <br />
<div align="center">
Five years old!</div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<img alt="" class="spotlight" src="http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/417581_10150848640419546_805684545_12791766_1734789073_n.jpg" style="height: 250px; width: 376px;" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Almost six years old</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></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/AVvXsEhrKbq-FkV18_YDX281fk4p_O27geb2388HZo2dhVGTifWYxSMpRMEMWvr3rHGrcGLi9Avt8TWfv0yh3q9TxEMDCoPMPqY5sKpVUpF8kVhTyE2-r8fjdPLyDZ89oJomTUFPeRucSxxuMruQ/s1600/IMG_6843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrKbq-FkV18_YDX281fk4p_O27geb2388HZo2dhVGTifWYxSMpRMEMWvr3rHGrcGLi9Avt8TWfv0yh3q9TxEMDCoPMPqY5sKpVUpF8kVhTyE2-r8fjdPLyDZ89oJomTUFPeRucSxxuMruQ/s320/IMG_6843.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seven Years Old</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Miss N,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wow, you're seven. Seven seems so grown up. You've even
started to transition away from baby dolls and tea parties and into Legos and
constant art projects. You're even starting to outgrow Princesses, at least
Disney ones. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year you've really changed. Some of your sass has
turned into sweetness, and you're starting to gain real empathy for other
people. You're also starting to realize the motivations behind your actions,
and want to control them better. We've had some sweet conversations about how
to <i>be</i> a big sister. Don't worry, sweet girl, mommy understands. Your
Uncle Joey was pretty exasperating too at times. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You've really started to become your middle sister's best
friend. I don't think you realize how much she looks up to you, even when she's
being, well, a little sister. You are a huge help with your baby sister too.
You're blossoming into a beautiful, conscientious, but fun-loving young lady,
and I couldn't be more proud.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of your biggest accomplishments in recent months has
been performing at the school talent show. You had a simple piano piece, but
you got up there and played it like a champ. I couldn't have been more proud. I
think I was more nervous than you were! Practicing isn't your favorite thing,
but when you buckle down and do it, you're seeing real progress.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You've started to get more of a desire to get into God's
word too. I'm trying to get consistent to have devotion time with you, time
where we read scripture together, just us. It's not easy to carve out the time,
but you're quick to ask for it when I forget. I pray that I can cultivate a
love for your Savior in you as you grow!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year you've experienced heartbreak. You learned that
one of your best friends will move away. You're taking it better than I
expected, and I'm thankful you are able to make new friends quickly. You also
embraced the new girl in your class and became great friends with her too. It
makes me proud that you are willing and able to open yourself and let new
people in, so they don't feel lonely. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are a great writer. I love to read the stories you write, and I hope that you will always love to write stories. Who knows, maybe you will be a writer like Mommy some day! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All in all you are a beautiful girl who loves to have fun
and lives life to its fullest. I love you and am so proud to be your mommy!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy (late) birthday Miss N!</div>
MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-26426278563054870512013-02-28T20:08:00.002-08:002013-02-28T20:08:20.070-08:00The Scheduling Dilemma <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I've been thinking about our schedule lately. It's really
pretty crazy, and frankly, I am missing my big girl.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My typical day is this: get up in the morning, feed the family, make lunches, send them out the door, work for three-ish hours, pick up Miss M, bring her home for an hour and a half, pick up Miss N, go to whatever after school activity we have, come home, homework, dinner, baths (if we are lucky) and bed so we can do it all again the next day. Somewhere in all that I need to find time to go to the grocery store, cook meals and care for a very busy baby, all while juggling my business as well. On days Miss M doesn't have school it's a bit less harried, but that will all change. Next year is kindergarten. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I miss the days of preschool a few days a week, playdates
and going to the mall just to play. We haven't been to the children's museum in
ages. My mantra of late has been "There isn't time."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are over scheduled, but the problem is I don't know what
to do about it. We have piano lessons and swimming lessons and church, so three
evenings out of five are booked. The difficulty is, my kids can't swim. I feel
very strongly that they need to swim. So that's non-negotiable in my mind.
Church is as well. Piano is something I want my children to learn, as it
provides the foundation for music and also a basis for ministry, and besides,
Miss N is actually pretty good at it to this point. So, until they offer it at
the school during school hours, I have no choice but to do it after school.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Miss N never gets the chance to just play. She gets home
from school and activities, then it's homework, piano practice, dinner,
possibly baths and bed. No wonder she'd rather be at school than at home –we
never have any fun around here. She's tired, cranky and the only time I see her
is during the "witching hour" when we are all at our worst. I miss
her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what can I realistically cut? Nothing. So, we will plow
through this year with me never seeing my big girl, and hating every minute of
it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Because I don't know what else to do. </span>MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-80446371327247646802013-02-19T07:54:00.002-08:002013-02-19T07:54:23.561-08:00Catching my Breath<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last night, I held baby girl a little tighter, snuggled her
a little longer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0AoW_JDCV3l1HpsOK1bYEEaPh-7mPSlYkr-MKsJ9PYr7v7_PH4M0ChiEvLBxF9EXgjpf5ZDDMvxR_MBKOk19mZNGu8tgPbXEwD1x3rJxi58o_SuoEFagzI1rCdtp2mBkDSajvjbZCzXh/s1600/IMG_5434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0AoW_JDCV3l1HpsOK1bYEEaPh-7mPSlYkr-MKsJ9PYr7v7_PH4M0ChiEvLBxF9EXgjpf5ZDDMvxR_MBKOk19mZNGu8tgPbXEwD1x3rJxi58o_SuoEFagzI1rCdtp2mBkDSajvjbZCzXh/s320/IMG_5434.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Miss C, Nine Months</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was only a brief second. I looked away from her to see
her big sisters in the pool. She was carefully confined between me, the well-railed
edge of the parent viewing balcony, and a bench behind us. After watching her
sister perform a new feat in the water at swim lessons, I looked back down and
she was gone. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the two minutes or less I had my eyes off her, she had
crawled over the ledge of the bench and to the top of the full flight of cement
stairs. By the time I screamed her name, leaped over the bench and got to her,
her hand was out to start the tumble down the stairs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I scooped her up in my arms, heart racing at the thought of
what almost happened, took her back to our spot and kept not only my eyes, but
also my hands, on her the rest of the time. When it was time to leave, I
shuddered when I saw the rail next to the stairs. The perfect height for her to
try to pull up on, yet wide enough for her to slip through when she fell, that
rail caused me to realize just how close I had come to losing my sweet baby
girl to a headlong tumble down concrete steps. Had she gone for that rail bar
instead of the top of the stairs, I would not have gotten to her in time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last night I spent much time thanking my Lord for his
protection of my daughter. I realized, once again, that no matter how careful
are as a parent, there are simply dangers you cannot anticipate, mistakes you
will, inadvertently, make.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remembered the time that Miss M was just a few feet ahead
of me in the parking lot of our local grocery store, happily walking to the
car. Before I could see what was happening, a car started backing up, almost
instantly after turning on their lights. As I screamed her name, I saw the
fender bump into her thigh. Thankfully, the driver heard me and stopped, and
Miss M was none the wiser. Still, her little life flashed before my eyes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Each of these times, I am reminded that life is but a vapor.
We really don't know how long we have these precious children in our lives. We
must make the most of every moment, because before we know it, it will be gone.
They will be gone or grown, and all we will have are our memories.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">And as for me, I know I will take a break from the computer
screen to cuddle my sweet and final baby a little more today. </span>MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-34736418712902304382012-11-08T19:48:00.002-08:002012-11-08T19:48:46.202-08:00Be Still
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I sit here, fingers on the keyboard, researching antioxidants,
oral cancer and toothpaste.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i>She always has a tummy ache, maybe she needs to go gluten
free like my mom.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<em>I just heard the big one cough again, maybe she’s getting
pneumonia again. We went a whole year without it, I was hoping for longer.</em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<em>She’s going under anesthetic, my baby. Are we doing the
right thing? Is this cough really that important.</em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Type type, research research, yet my mind gets noisy again.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<em>Am I giving them enough attention? I’ve been working a lot,
and they are fighting a lot, maybe I am not doing this right.</em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i>Man, that election was killer. Will my kids know the
freedom of carrying a Bible if they want? Should we buy a gun while we still
can?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Focus. Type. Research.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<em>Did I make enough this month? Christmas is coming, and Florida.
Will we be good, or should I work a little more tonight? What if the work stops
flowing this month? Will I make enough to cover tuition?</em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<em> <o:p></o:p></em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<em>What about Tim. He probably wanted the house cleaner when
he got home. I am not doing a very good job at that. Maybe I should take the
day off tomorrow. </em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">Type, type, type, click,
click, click, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a new
client. The instructions are vague. How do I know what he wants? What if I am
wasting my time?</em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<em> <o:p></o:p></em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Suddenly, a still small voice, <i>Be still and know that I
am God.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i>I <b>love</b> them more than you ever could.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i>I <b>know </b>exactly where your next client and your
next paycheck is coming from.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i>I <b>see</b> you are doing your best with your kids and
your husband.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i>It’s just a house. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i>Relax. Trust. Pray. And love them with all you have.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i>But in the end, Be Still and Know that I am God.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i> <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
My anxious mind calms, my focus returns, and I finish out the
night. </div>
MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-47226916885291111282012-11-04T05:29:00.000-08:002012-11-04T05:55:10.257-08:00Update on Miss CSo, I wanted to put it down here even though it's already been on Facebook.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSbWb2evPa8uBOZ0VIg30D58oSuLzQIW0Pz2FMkFi6OquT1EZ0oQmzwOBUg9d9i7bcG37L-wOmIpgS5ahpPYLmu-WqJvDcUaQ6_MAuertqErbDtUTaNotDUxS_o-KVCdacITKzJQVWP_uI/s1600/Natalie-1-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSbWb2evPa8uBOZ0VIg30D58oSuLzQIW0Pz2FMkFi6OquT1EZ0oQmzwOBUg9d9i7bcG37L-wOmIpgS5ahpPYLmu-WqJvDcUaQ6_MAuertqErbDtUTaNotDUxS_o-KVCdacITKzJQVWP_uI/s320/Natalie-1-4.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Miss C has had this strange cough since she was born. At first, her pediatrician and I thought it was a cold because Miss M gave her a lovely kiss right on the lips the day I brought her home, and she had a cold at the time. But, week after week it never really went away, and she never really acted "sick."<br />
<br />
The cough sounds exactly like a croup cough. Most of the time if someone doesn't know her and hears her doing it, like at the grocery store, they tell me she's got croup. But, you cannot have croup for five months.<br />
<br />
Her pediatrician suggested that it was probably a floppy larynx and we should keep an eye on it unless it gets worse. Then, she started having a lot of stridor, which is this strange whistling type noise that is not wheezing and is quite loud. We joke that she sounds like a seal or a goose.<br />
<br />
Well, it did not get better, and if anything got worse. I called the doctor one day to see if they wanted to see her, but played phone tag with the nurse. She heard me say "stridor" and said I had to go to the urgent care ASAP. Even though her pediatrician knew about the stridor, when the nurse says that, you go.<br />
<br />
That doctor was obviously not familiar with babies. He looked at her, said "She's not sick so she must have a cold, let's give her a steroid." It didn't matter that I told him she's had this issue since birth and her pediatrician thought it was anatomical. I said, "No thank you." and left.<br />
<br />
The thing is, though, when they took her oxygen levels at first they were really low (85). So, the next day back to the pediatrician we went. This time I had to see someone else because mine was off for the day. She thought C didn't sound normal (in my ped's defense, he hadn't really heard her make the noise at her well-baby checks. This time we just got lucky).<br />
<br />
So, chest and neck x-rays were ordered, which were pretty much normal, and we got a referral to a pulmonologist. That took a month to get through and get in, but we had that appointment Friday.<br />
<br />
Thankfully (we had a lot of people praying) she made the noises in question several times for the specialists. They definitely thought it was not normal and that we needed to find out why. Their theory is that she has a narrowing somewhere in the airway or some other obstruction, but not hte larynx as the pediatrician originally thought. She is not in any distress at this point, but the cough is not going to get better unless we get to the bottom of it.<br />
<br />
So, we are waiting to get a scope done of her airways. She will have to go under for that, which makes this mommy a tad bit nervous, but she is getting seen at the Madison Children's Hospital, which makes me feel better. It is an excellent hospital. <br />
<br />
In spite of all of this, she is still the happiest, easiest going baby in the world. Right now, she has a cold on top of it all, and she's still so happy. She is such a blessing!MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-1868074133871377052012-10-25T18:27:00.001-07:002012-10-25T18:27:13.125-07:00A DreamSo, I have been bitten with a new dream. And I just can't get it out of my head. What is holding me back? My own insecurities. My own worries that I won't be "good enough." My own perfectionist fear that I might fail.<br />
<br />
But, I think, this time, I am not going to let it hold me back. Because I think, this time, it's time for a change, and this might just be it.<br />
<br />
So stay tuned. Something new is in the works. . . I think. MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-26044346956837514222012-09-04T19:45:00.000-07:002012-09-04T19:45:04.168-07:00Miss M is Four!<div align="center">
Four years (and one month) ago, God blessed us with this 10 lb. 4 oz bundle of energy.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxAARCojZGRo_L7VWdBGGVPtiziQX5oKWR_XE-pgzCT-ePw5kpoUAAjpmbMNQZ1bsPDhnBUR4zC2_jeKO2C8UcEwy7XIExmthHx0i-N9-_mQnBgpBnwp2pPhPUvEgjrtTaX71f8roRJ8e/s1600/100_0861.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635994333229803842" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxAARCojZGRo_L7VWdBGGVPtiziQX5oKWR_XE-pgzCT-ePw5kpoUAAjpmbMNQZ1bsPDhnBUR4zC2_jeKO2C8UcEwy7XIExmthHx0i-N9-_mQnBgpBnwp2pPhPUvEgjrtTaX71f8roRJ8e/s320/100_0861.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>Miss M, one day old</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635994343179240050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1iOG2tV8GQtnx-RHg1TkLgKRWtgG39cn3wTruPDmurtxdO0Ur0HWZ55WeRQ9qw9_WQksVV0lpevKZeFVIxSk0Z97kw527EXimilkjYvKN7dB99Tvkg6NdJAaQSzOerbGxWOr9O78hTzaP/s320/101_0293.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" />Miss M, one year old</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7orcV9Nx_OlvMaFBlOBu_H3WZYD4ZOV97N8leA-pfX6kS7akyIOR2BvTGU7YOwm0qmLxTyYa3vDedgPQ65GTxPkT-8yNWU3C8ezWAv291VQnzzYz8eoxZ5NV00ETuMYhWqf2XcG6BU11H/s1600/P1090687.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635993662486069298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7orcV9Nx_OlvMaFBlOBu_H3WZYD4ZOV97N8leA-pfX6kS7akyIOR2BvTGU7YOwm0qmLxTyYa3vDedgPQ65GTxPkT-8yNWU3C8ezWAv291VQnzzYz8eoxZ5NV00ETuMYhWqf2XcG6BU11H/s320/P1090687.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Miss M, two years old</div>
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635993668327980610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dp1IB1RdrrkcCKKOkqcO4TS3zh3aIJYVMEW1CHszyDvt4uO1CvnVxBONrKOyZ2syJejWe6gkSwENomFPhIRHp8GdFFoZcGTJ_Zk7YN3epampqTo9AjgsbTYNNpmlPZP7hQ3WUgDrbJ2U/s320/IMG_6307.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 214px;" /><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Miss M, three years old.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhcp_JmXsYJ7G8_xtHcu-rH2LosVkq-IFJj35HQjidgfN_I5jaAqr1-D_oUdyf9GNsGaYOEQjJyxMFCfQOKen3D2MEeNyXbLcyvwcAiFzrpyRMdtENl0wei1kmq1_aQ3B-z0ZTPp-3uRj/s1600/IMG_1472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhcp_JmXsYJ7G8_xtHcu-rH2LosVkq-IFJj35HQjidgfN_I5jaAqr1-D_oUdyf9GNsGaYOEQjJyxMFCfQOKen3D2MEeNyXbLcyvwcAiFzrpyRMdtENl0wei1kmq1_aQ3B-z0ZTPp-3uRj/s320/IMG_1472.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Miss M, four years old</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
On July 31, my middle child turned four. All of the
commotion of the end of summer, getting her birthday party in, and then school
starting and working like crazy have made me forget to do her birthday post.
So, without further ado, here is a bit about Miss M.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
During her fourth year, she learned:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<ul style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal">Her
letters and sounds</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">How to
whistle</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">How to
snap (these two are much to the displeasure of the bigger sister who
cannot yet do them)</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">How to
face her fears of inflatable jumping houses and VBS</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">Became
a big sister, a roll she embraces with zeal</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">Learned
to pedal a bike</li>
<li class="MsoNormal">Said a
line in a school program, without tears!</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Miss M is a go getter. She knows what she wants, and she
does not wait for permission or help to achieve it. She is full of spunk and
always knows the funny thing to say. She will do anything to make us laugh, and
definitely enjoys having a funny one-liner during a conversation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
She is a devoted sister, both to her big and her baby
sister. She will do just about anything Miss N wants, as long as she is not too
tired, and is more than willing, sometimes too willing, to help with the baby.
She plays hard and sometimes too rough, but is always there with an apology
when things get out of hand.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
This child is a mover and a shaker. She has to be moving at
all times, and she knows it. She even told me recently “That good exercise took
my grumpy grumpies away.” She is very much aware of what she needs and wants,
but cannot always communicate it, a fact which frustrates her. Still, she is
learning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
She amazes me with her intelligence and observant nature.
Sometimes she will say things that surprise me, because I was totally unaware
she was paying attention. As her verbal skills develop, I am getting a closer
look at just how amazingly intelligent she is. She is also able to entertain
herself quite well. We spend many a morning while sister is at school quietly
enjoying each other’s company, her playing with her dolls and me working.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
She is going to be quite the good little mommy, once she
outgrows her brute strength. She is always carting around a baby doll, hushing
it, rocking it and feeding it. She tucks them in, turns off the light, and then
requires us all to be quiet and leave the room alone while the baby sleeps. It
is definitely humbling to see my own mothering skills reflected in her play. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
She is my most stubborn child, and while that presents some
parenting difficulties, it is also a character trait that could be beneficial.
She will stand up for what she believes in strongly when she is older. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Dear Miss M.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Wow, you are four! How fast these four years have gone. I
know you are excited about being four, and you have waited a long time for your
birthday. Almost seems fitting that your celebrations lasted an entire month! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
You have surprised me this year with your sensitivity. When
we lost our Bailey dog, your heart was broken. I didn’t know you cared so much.
Even now, you will sometimes cry for her, and she has been gone for months. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
You love fiercely and with much passion. You are dedicated
to your friends and siblings, and are very hurt when you feel left out. You
love to be touched and will wriggle close to me whenever you can, begging for a tickle, reaching for
my hand when we are walking. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
My sweet girl, you are growing up. You are mommy’s little
helper, always willing to lend a hand, and often asking to help even when I
didn’t ask. I pray that I always embrace that help, so you will learn the joy
of serving others. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
This year, I have gotten a glimpse of what you may look like
when you are older, and frankly, it took my breath away. You have always been a
beautiful baby, but now you are a beautiful little girl. All too soon you will
be a beautiful young lady.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
This year, you faced some challenges. You had to learn to
let go of mommy and go out on your own a bit. It was hard, but you got through
it. You learned to love new settings and new experiences. You overcame some of
your biggest fears, while still holding onto some others. I have never been so
proud of you as I was when you walked proudly up on that stage and said your
line at your spring program, without tears, or when you went down the big big
slide at the indoor playground. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
I love you, Miss M. I hope your fifth year is as wonderful
as your fourth has been!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Mommy</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-55620130377650565452012-08-17T20:38:00.001-07:002012-08-17T20:38:55.404-07:00If I Could Freeze Time
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The weight of a tiny head, nestled against my chest. The
miniature fist, clenching a portion of my shirt. The rhythmic breathing,
interrupted by a faint flutter sucking on a pacifier. The soft, nearly
invisible eyelashes, gently closing against deep blue eyes. These are the
memories I wish I could burn into my mind, the feelings I wish I could memorize
to warm my heart on cold, difficult days.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If I could freeze time, it would be at this moment. For I
know all too soon, your tiny feet will be pounding the floor, chasing after
your big sisters. I know that before I am ready, your rosebud mouth, so quick
to open into a wide smile at the sight of my face, will instead form questions
that I do not have answers to. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I hold you and rock you to sleep, I feel that invisible
force creeping into the room. Time. Time that is waiting to rob me of your
fleeting infancy, as it did with your sisters. Time that is pushing you,
willing you to grow, and all I can do is watch. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Try as I might, I cannot push Time from the room. Every day,
it is changing you, maturing you, transforming you from an infant to a baby, a
baby to a toddler, a toddler to a little girl.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could not stop Time the first time, either, but I was far
too busy looking for milestones and worrying about whether I was doing this mom
thing “right.” I could not stop Time the second time, but I was far too
exhausted form the demands of a toddler and newborn to notice. But this time is
different. This time, I watch as Time steals your infancy away bit by bit,
opening the door to new wonders, but leaving this mommy’s heart just a little
bit sad. And once again, there is nothing I can do.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, for now, as I sniff your sweet head and rock you to
sleep, praying over your future, I will myself to remember your sweetness, your
scent and the feeling of your little body molding itself so perfectly to mine.
Tomorrow I may not have this, but for today, I treasure it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">If I could freeze time, I would freeze it at this
moment, at least for a little while, for the moment is far too fleeting. </span>MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-74757159670338186062012-07-22T21:00:00.004-07:002012-07-22T21:01:28.471-07:002 Months!Wow, how time flies. It's already been two months with our precious C. I have told so many people that Miss C must know she is a third-born child, because she is the easiest baby ever. In fact, the few times she is fussy, I barely know what to do because it is so rare.<br />
<br />
Both big sisters are completely enamored with her. Miss N (6) told me yesterday "I wish C could stay a baby forever. She's the cutest baby ever. I just love her so much." Miss M (almost 4) will repeatedly sing to her and coo at her and even at times overly love her to the point I have to separate them.<br />
<br />
This precious babe is everything I could have ever wished for in a third and final child. She is so happy, laid back and beautiful. She smiles at everyone and everything, loves her sisters and daddy almroeady so much, and has a "go with the flow" kind of personality.<br />
<br />
There is one strange thing that has been going on with her. Shortly after she was born I noticed this strange barking cough. I thought she had caught a cold her sisters had, but it hasn't gone a way. She recently did catch a cold and it got a little worse, but for her whole life she has been barking. It does not affect her breathing at all and her lungs are not congested according to the doctor. He thinks it is an immaturity or "floppiness" of her larynx. We just have to watch it I guess. I sure get some strange looks when I am out with my newborn and she starts barking!<br />
<br />
Life with 3 is much easier than I anticipated, but it is not without
its challenges. I find that I am more emotional than I was with just
two, but I blame that on hormones. I have less patience for the
shenanigans of the older ones. I also find that I am enjoying C much
more than I did either of my other babies. with N I was scared I was
going to break her and dealing with postpartum depression. With M I had
the needs of a toddler to balance on top of the needs of a new baby, not
to mention a baby that rarely tolerated being cuddled. Because the
girls are old enough to be a bit self sufficient now, I feel like I have
more freedom to just enjoy my baby. That, and the fact that we know she
is the last one, make it easy to just snuggle and love on her.<br />
<br />
So here are my baby's pictures for one month and two months. Enjoy!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYzSYUn8YrjjrXgrBLfhaHqjkNeiMFL-q4vTJNoKa7dASR7Su9pG2WCZag_ZN8I1ecjd2PuwjlQCFO48onhyphenhyphenU21oVT7ugT6WsqqApOqgb6mliTQNC3Ip3HNSiQZy8zsS3Zheeq_oFDfC0/s1600/c+1+month+%281+of+2%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYzSYUn8YrjjrXgrBLfhaHqjkNeiMFL-q4vTJNoKa7dASR7Su9pG2WCZag_ZN8I1ecjd2PuwjlQCFO48onhyphenhyphenU21oVT7ugT6WsqqApOqgb6mliTQNC3Ip3HNSiQZy8zsS3Zheeq_oFDfC0/s320/c+1+month+%281+of+2%29.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
one month</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2R9wh9NzHzcQcbxxWnKyyC5UiKkL_qHJaQCkAm55oph2tI2BCXsehG9hHByLwLvHvHPZDsaWII9xju5_YhaflYFxq98Gmg4xUiOHSQxWGuh_45U7BU1b4CGkeoNL9VYLyfshPTLIBA_cv/s1600/2+month+1+%281+of+1%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2R9wh9NzHzcQcbxxWnKyyC5UiKkL_qHJaQCkAm55oph2tI2BCXsehG9hHByLwLvHvHPZDsaWII9xju5_YhaflYFxq98Gmg4xUiOHSQxWGuh_45U7BU1b4CGkeoNL9VYLyfshPTLIBA_cv/s320/2+month+1+%281+of+1%29.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Two months - smiling big for big sister!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4x3bWaI9kiHPlqn5u5sIDlhU14xXHCW2RFSaFVrJ9W1v4D0VvXVp0OPYL5LSbzjUVLCGMqZFetSjPoHStd3zCfw6bgdiuAd9Rw1guZIf7RnjR4w0Ijjqmycl6_aM3yHdTKy_xmEG_s1Hl/s1600/2+month+2+%281+of+1%29-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4x3bWaI9kiHPlqn5u5sIDlhU14xXHCW2RFSaFVrJ9W1v4D0VvXVp0OPYL5LSbzjUVLCGMqZFetSjPoHStd3zCfw6bgdiuAd9Rw1guZIf7RnjR4w0Ijjqmycl6_aM3yHdTKy_xmEG_s1Hl/s320/2+month+2+%281+of+1%29-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyR_MYgMOMpsmgRVE76BBzhg7NJFGZPFW9c0Nf-F6LW70qh52AspnIM_s7KXspnu1yBwNWSQ1RwbvmsENJ5-yOvT56NA0zcKWfe-p_6FbT4qPBsYv-SCUgqa8O0nZmNdgfed321F6LnSX2/s1600/2+month+2+%281+of+1%29-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyR_MYgMOMpsmgRVE76BBzhg7NJFGZPFW9c0Nf-F6LW70qh52AspnIM_s7KXspnu1yBwNWSQ1RwbvmsENJ5-yOvT56NA0zcKWfe-p_6FbT4qPBsYv-SCUgqa8O0nZmNdgfed321F6LnSX2/s320/2+month+2+%281+of+1%29-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-57482402274260203492012-05-26T20:09:00.001-07:002012-05-26T20:09:55.805-07:00Miss C's Birth Story<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5Ssd5wmctj5WLva-KtQPM0RtkT4GLYdADjmjScFj1rJ0AlXbWg995_11uTsIv14CTA3kJ1aUUwSrYrIfVR6yhYaoSKO0oxlq2E544Vt6jaufd5UBJS3Qg_Qqxmz8MIXEczz8Hmzgkpqv/s1600/miss+c+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5Ssd5wmctj5WLva-KtQPM0RtkT4GLYdADjmjScFj1rJ0AlXbWg995_11uTsIv14CTA3kJ1aUUwSrYrIfVR6yhYaoSKO0oxlq2E544Vt6jaufd5UBJS3Qg_Qqxmz8MIXEczz8Hmzgkpqv/s320/miss+c+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The surgery to deliver Carlie Grace was scheduled for
Thursday, May 17 at 12:30 pm. I was not a happy camper about this time, seeing
as how I could have nothing to eat or drink since midnight the night before.
That’s not so bad if your surgery is at 7 in the morning, but noon? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the way to the hospital, I realized that I just didn’t
like the name we had picked. So, we changed it. I thought naming Miss M two
days before she was born was bad, but this baby was named on the way to the
hospital! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We arrived at the hospital two hours before the surgery as
requested, only to be informed that an emergency c-section had delayed our
surgery time by a couple of hours. We were ushered into this huge room to wait.
The room, which was actually larger than the surgery room, had a bed and IV
supplies in one corner, a closet in the other corner for other supplies, and in
the third corner was a toilet. The toilet was not in a separate room. No, it
was simply separated from the rest of the room by a curtain. The curtain, I
would come to discover, was not large enough to totally block the view of the
room, nor did it go very far to the floor. Needless to say, there was not much
privacy. Our funny nurse informed us, “That was designed by a man!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I changed into the first gown, got strapped to the
monitors (why I needed to be monitored is beyond me. I mean, we had no reason
to believe baby was in distress. I guess it’s just standard protocol in the
Labor and Delivery wing). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And we waited. For two hours. Watching who knows what on the
tiny TV hanging across the room. We didn’t bring in our computers because that
would be something else to keep track of in and out of the surgery room. We
were a bit bored.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, it was time. I had to change into a different gown,
one made out of paper that was stifling hot, and walk down to the surgery room.
When I walked into the room I started to feel a bit panicked. There is a LOT of
equipment in a surgical room, and you suddenly realize there is no turning
back. I think there is definitely a benefit to being knocked out before you go
into surgery for most other types of surgery.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got myself up on the table and the anesthesiologist
administered the spinal. It took a few minutes and I was panicking. I had just
read literally that morning of a friend on facebook whose cousin or some other
relative had a c-section and the anesthetic did not work. I was paranoid that
would happen to me! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They had me lay down and suddenly I felt like I was going to
pass out. I told the anesthesiologist and he informed me that my blood pressure
had dropped from 160/100 to 100/50. He gave me a shot of something and elevated
my head to fix that and I was fine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The spinal worked as it was supposed to, they got me all
scrubbed and draped, and they brought Tim in. I did not know they had started
the incision until I heard my doctor say, “We have a breech baby. Nicole, was
she breech?” The answer was no, she was not as of two days prior to the
surgery.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, I heard the doctor ask for fundal pressure. Apparently
the baby’s head was stuck up in my ribs and one of the nurses had to push and
push while the doctor tugged on her feet to get her out. I could not see any of
this, but I could feel my body shaking. Then, the shaking stopped and she was
out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She did not cry right away. That made me a little crazy, but
then she was crying, and so was I. It was a long journey to have her here
safely, and I was just so happy she was out, she was crying, and she appeared
healthy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It made me crazy that I could not see her. The way the
drapes were it was impossible for me to see her. Even when Tim brought her
over, I could only see the top of her head. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My first thought was, “She is so tiny!” Miss M weighted in
at 10 lb, 4 oz, and we expected this baby to be about the same size. She did
not look like a10 pounder at all. I was also surprised that she had little hair
compared to Miss M. The ultrasound gal at my doctor had told me multiple times
that she had a lot of hair, so I was expecting another full head of hair.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At this point they took her out and Tim went with. Finishing
up the surgery took a while because there was another procedure they had to do.
I was so anxious to meet my baby and actually look at her! I had made it very
clear to the nurse that I wanted her with me ASAP after the surgery. When I had
Miss M, they kept her for three hours after surgery!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While they were finishing everything, the nursery called
down and gave us her stats. Carlie Grace was 8 lb, 9 oz, 20 inches long.
Everyone kept saying how that was a “good size,” but all I could think was how
small she was!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We went into the recovery room, and I reiterated that I wanted
the baby soon. Within an hour of having her, she was in my arms. She nursed
immediately and perfectly. It was like a dream come true!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It took about two hours to finish the recovery and get
wheeled into the actual room where we would stay for our hospital stay. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;">All in all, it was an uneventful delivery. She is
here, she is perfect, and we are thrilled! </span>MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-44688651191911540842012-05-15T14:05:00.001-07:002012-05-15T14:05:45.090-07:00The Finish LineToday, I had my last prenatal appointment with my wonderful doctor. It was short and sweet. Baby didn't pass the NST but she passed the long ultrasound so no worries. She's head down, contractions have begun, and she could come any time between now and my scheduled surgery Thursday.<br />
<br />
I am feeling a tad emotional. This has been a very long, drawn out process. I am so grateful that none of the horrible complications that she was watching for happened. Sometimes, I feel a little foolish for being worried now that we are "done" (although there is still a risk of developing HELLPS or Pre-eclampsia in me after delivery), but when you have been down that path before, it is hard not to remember everything when similar things start happening. <br />
<br />
Baby is almost here. I am almost ready to hold her in my arms. I have been longing for this day since November of 2010 when we said goodbye to our last baby so suddenly and so unnaturally. There have been so many emotional ups and downs in this process. Wondering if we were truly pregnant at the beginning when my numbers were going whacky. Waiting through signs of a miscarriage and wondering if baby would make it. Dealing with the blood pressure starting to creep up at 12 weeks and stay up throughout the process. Seeing the high risk people, doing test after test after test, and now, at the end, all of these crazy appointments.<br />
<br />
We are done. She is almost here. And this mommy is feeling a bit teary.<br />
<br />
Today I did my preliminary blood work and registration at the hospital. A couple of the people I interacted with asked if I was disappointed about the third girl. Honestly, when you have been down the path we have, how can you be? She is apparently healthy, full term, and almost here. How can you be disappointed in the gender God chose for her?MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-62767661712563081552012-05-14T06:29:00.003-07:002012-05-14T06:29:36.218-07:00A Letter to Baby GirlDear Baby,<br />
<br />
We are so ready to meet you! In just a few short days, you will be here. You have a family waiting to greet you with open arms, a daddy ready for you to wrap around his little finger, and two big sisters who are waiting to teach you all about fancy shoes, princesses, and ponies.<br />
<br />
Most of all, you have a mommy who cannot wait to hold you. I have been waiting for this day for two long years, ever since your little brother or sister was taken from me so unexpectedly. You are loved, you are wanted, you are treasured, and you are not even here yet. I am ready to breathe that sigh of relief when you are <i>finally</i> here, safe and sound, and complications are no longer a concern. <br />
<br />
The doctor says you have a lot of hair. You look chubby in your pictures. I envision you look like your big sister Miss M, more so than Miss N. Will you have brilliant blue eyes like M, piercing, thoughtful gray-blue eyes like N, or green eyes like your momma? Will the name we have chosen for you fit? I'm not as in love with it as your sisters' names, and somehow I wonder if we will change at the last minute when we see your little face.<br />
<br />
I wonder how your sisters will respond. They are excited,
but your littlest big sister has been having a hard time with mommy not
being her normal self these past few days. Will she transition into the
big sister role easily? I hope so. I imagine your biggest big sister
will love you, but not be totally sure what to do with you. Babies don't
do a whole lot at the beginning after all.<br />
<br />
Of course, there are other questions too. Will we discover something unexpected when you are born? With all of the ultrasounds we've had, it's hard to imagine, but I suppose it could happen. Will you be making your appearance early after all, or waiting until Thursday? Will you be as big as mommy feels you are, or will you surprise us and be only six or seven pounds? <br />
But truthfully, none of the answers to those questions matter. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, however you look when you are finally here, and we cannot wait to meet you. <br />
<br />
Thursday. It feels so far away. Mommy is almost done with work, and I wonder how I will fill these next few days while we wait. Waiting is hard, but I know that soon, oh so soon, I will have you in my arms. And I cannot wait.MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-88971278114302525912012-05-09T14:50:00.001-07:002012-05-09T14:50:11.422-07:0038 weeks updateHere it is. My last pregnancy update. I don't think I will make one next week with baby coming the day after. It's been a long, somewhat eventful pregnancy, and I cannot wait to meet this new little princess! I also cannot believe that she will be here NEXT WEEK! A week from tomorrow. At this point, all of the extra testing just seems silly, but I suppose it is worthwhile to ensure we are not missing something obvious at the very tail end of this process. <span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">How far along?</span> 38 weeks!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Maternity clothes?</span> Yes, and frankly, none of them fit. Miss N told me yesterday, "Um, mom, I think you need to get some longer shirts." Baby has dropped and it's hard to cover the belly up!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Sleep: </span>Not too shabby. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Best moment this week:</span> Spending the morning with my sad baby girl. She is much better now! And my bp did not spike.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Movement:</span>
Steady and strong.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Milestones:</span> I think she is finally head down and planning to stay that way.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Gender:</span> Girl<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Labor Signs:</span> Nothing incredibly new to report.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">What I miss: </span>Not sitting on the couch all day<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">What I am looking forward to: </span>Having a baby next week!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Weekly Wisdom:</span> Sometimes, your kiddos just need their mommy.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Complications Update</span>: nothing new. Everything is staying stable and she keeps testing well so it looks like the 17th is d-day!MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-48207786384959036642012-04-30T06:01:00.000-07:002012-04-30T06:01:06.001-07:00Sad Baby GirlSo, if you read my last update post, then you know that i have been put on modified bed rest, if you will. Basically, I am supposed to sit as much as possible, no grocery shopping, chores, etc. I can still leave the house, if need be, to go to church or pick up the kids from school, but that's it.<br />
<br />
This is hard.<br />
<br />
I am not tallented enough to parent from the couch. My kids are not yet self sufficient enough to get much of what they need for themselves. So, this arrangement has forced me to find care options for them.<br />
<br />
And one of them is having a VERY hard time with it all.<br />
<br />Yesterday, I had to go in to the hospital because I had a very high spike in BP. My in-laws came and got the girls and took them to church, and I was explaining what was happening. Miss M, my younger one, started sobbing. She just wants mommy. She just wants her normal routine. I buckled in my baby sobbing her head off, you know, the big chocking sobs. It was so hard.<br />
<br />
Then, this morning I was explaining the plan for the week. Unless my doctor decides 37 weeks is fine and we have a baby this week, my parents are coming this weekend just so that we can have some sanity and a bit of our normal routine back. But, until then, we decided the best option was to send the kids to school full day. I can pick them up around 4 and then I will only have an hour that I will need to tend to everything without Tim. Since I am not on full bed rest, this should be OK.We have people willing to babysit, but this seems to be the closest to the normal routine, and saves quite a bit of driving time since most of the people who have volunteered live by our church, which sadly we are not close to.<br />
<br />
So, I was explaining what the plan would be for the week. Miss N was so excited. She has been dreaming about staying at school all day, like it is some sort of rare privilege. Miss M melted into a puddle of tears.<br />
<br />
"But, I just want to be wif you mommy."<br />
<br />
Now, how on earth am I supposed to respond to that? She's three. Yes, she needs to "buck up" or whatever, but she's three. It broke my heart into tiny pieces. I tried to explain it would just be for a couple of days and then grandma and grandpa would be here and it would all be back to normal. She spent most of the morning clinging to my leg and sobbing. <br />
<br />
I am ready to be done with this pregnancy and be back to being a mommy!<br />
<br />
Now, even writing all of this, I realize that many people have it much worse. I have one friend working on her sixth month of bed rest, and a newly adopted four-year-old at home. I have others who cannot have babies. I have others who are dealing with preemies and all that comes from that. I know I have so much to be thankful for, and I am thankful. I am thankful that we are in the safe zone, that really my pregnancy has not been dangerous in spite of the complications and the "could haves," and I am thankful that the bed rest is working.<br />
<br />
But when your baby is crying because she wants you, it still makes your heart ache.<br />
<br />
Soon, sweet child, life will be back to our crazy version of normal. Soon.MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-4139647313685340182012-04-27T21:09:00.001-07:002012-04-27T21:10:12.336-07:0036 weeks update<span style="font-weight: bold;">How far along?</span> 36 weeks!<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Maternity clothes?</span> Do you really have to ask?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Sleep: </span>Not too shabby. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Best moment this week:</span>
Finding out my 24 hour test got better? I guess that means that all the complications are not making me ill. Oh, and getting a new gig that I think will be really good for the post-baby period when my schedule will be up in the air. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Movement:</span>
Steady and strong.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Milestones:</span> All major organ work is done. Now she's just gaining weight.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Gender:</span> Girl<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Labor Signs:</span> Contractions have actually slowed down. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">What I miss: </span>Not getting told how huge I am by complete strangers.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">What I am looking forward to: </span>Um, I guess my next appointment. I keep hoping she will decide we are in a safe enough zone and say let's have a baby :)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Weekly Wisdom:</span> I got nothing.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Complications Update</span>: So, they changed my medication dose, but it didn't have much of an effect. I am still spiking quite a bit later in the day. So, I am now on mostly bed rest. It's not full bed rest - she said I can go to church, pick up the kids from school, but otherwise I need to have my tush glued to the couch. Thankfully, between the school being willing to work with me and the wonderful church family we have, I think we will be OK until we can have this baby. My mom can come at a moment's notice too so if we need to have her this week, all will be OK. My doctor actually hinted we could do it now, but that there was still a little risk of a NICU stay at 36 weeks. So I am pushing for the 37 week mark just to be on the safe side. However, if I get any readings above certain levels, I have to call RIGHT NOW. So, it could be sooner rather than later. . .MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-3397149505359664572012-04-18T19:00:00.003-07:002012-04-18T19:05:32.242-07:0035 weeks update<span style="font-weight: bold;">How far along?</span> 35 weeks!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Maternity clothes?</span> Yep! I had to try on four shirts this morning before I found one that would cover my bump with the capris I am wearing. Sigh.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sleep: </span>Working too much.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Best moment this week:</span> When my doctor hinted we might not make it until May 17. Let's face it, the last month of pregnancy is not comfy. I wouldn't mind having this baby a couple of weeks early. Also, the way Miss M's face lit up when she thought I said the baby was coming out. She really, really wants to meet her baby sister.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Movement:</span> Remember how I said she wasn't moving as much. Yeah, well, she got over that. She was moving so much during my last NST that they had to keep repositioning the sensor and I had to wait forever before they got the reading they needed.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Milestones:</span> All major organ work is done. Now she's just gaining weight.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Gender:</span> Girl<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Labor Signs:</span> Lots and lots of contractions, but not too uncomfortable.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">What I miss: </span>Energy<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">What I am looking forward to: </span>Finding out the results of my latest 24 hour collection. This could mean we keep on trucking or it could mean we push for an earlier delivery. I was hoping they woudl call today but no. Since my doctor is not in on Thursdays, I will probably have to wait until my appointment Friday. Also, baby shower at my church this Saturday.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Weekly Wisdom:</span> I got nothing.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Complications Update</span>: My bp was high at my Tuesday appointment, and that fact combined with the contractions means that we might have to go early. But we might not. It's all a waiting game at this point. I would be happy if we got to 36 weeks. Of course, I have no newborn and few 0 to 3 month clothing so going early would mean a shopping trip, but I am ready to be done.MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-55945933139177423982012-04-12T06:22:00.002-07:002012-04-12T06:27:48.213-07:0034 weeks update<span style="font-weight: bold;">How far along?</span> 34 weeks! Miss N was born at 34 weeks, 1 day, which is today. I am so thankful to not be there at this point! But, I also feel very strongly that we are now in the "safe" zone.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Maternity clothes?</span> Yep. Getting down to only a few shirts that fit. I will NOT buy more!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sleep: </span>Not enough. I'm cranky.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Best moment this week:</span> Got to see my doctor again. It's been like two weeks. I cracked up when I mentioned I was not impressed with the high risk doctor I saw last week. She went off on that doctor! Apparently she (the high risk doctor) doesn't have much of a reputation.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Movement:</span> She is definitely not moving as much. I have been doing kick counts which I never did with the other kids.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Milestones:</span> She's head down! Doesn't really matter since I am having a c-section but that means she's getting ready for birth!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Gender:</span> Girl<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Labor Signs:</span> No signs of labor, but lots of practice contractions. They wear me out!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">What I miss: </span>Feeling normal. I am so uncomfortable! My back, hips, abdomen, and other areas just hurt, constantly. Getting up off of the couch to attend to the girls is so painful! I feel like an old woman! The doctor said it's because it's my third baby. How do people have 8+ kids and not go crazy!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">What I am looking forward to: </span>Meeting this little girl in five weeks!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Weekly Wisdom:</span> Sometimes, you have to apologize to your kids. Sometimes, you lose your cool. Apologies and hugs really do heal.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Complications Update</span>: Bp is starting to go up. The High risk doctor said this will happen at about 33-34 weeks. I am starting to swell at night, but that's normal. I am not sure if this is complications or just what happens at the end of pregnancy. Baby didn't pass an NST this week, but she passed the biophysical profile (ultrasound) so she was deemed fine. Lots and lots of monitoring, but we look to still be in the clear.MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-80891136351808199102012-04-04T15:24:00.003-07:002012-04-04T15:34:00.574-07:0033 Weeks Update<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJosaFt5YDDKyYsKeZuHI-OU6o1zqe5JWo9MfE7GnhID9GIoJSOHKPH9fLphgfa4RWOJTA9YO6N0b-Z24noo4e4jivkqhwhk-eC_ZSe7k8vuNl8mxiBQmRqF2_J3E7Z8GQZVJNh1EZgtNv/s1600/IMG_9331.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJosaFt5YDDKyYsKeZuHI-OU6o1zqe5JWo9MfE7GnhID9GIoJSOHKPH9fLphgfa4RWOJTA9YO6N0b-Z24noo4e4jivkqhwhk-eC_ZSe7k8vuNl8mxiBQmRqF2_J3E7Z8GQZVJNh1EZgtNv/s320/IMG_9331.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727677270077391250" border="0" /></a><br />I think she is going to take after Miss M with that round face. Definitely filling out.<br /><br />Ok, so I missed a few weeks. It's been busy, what can I say?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">How far along?</span> 33 weeks! In my first pregnancy I was in the hospital on horrible drugs and awaiting my girl's lungs to develop enough that they could deliver me. So thankful to be where I am right now!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Maternity clothes?</span> Yep.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sleep: </span>Hot flashes, potty breaks, and crazy dreams mean poor sleep. normal at this stage in the game.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Best moment this week:</span> Um, the floors are done! Also, got a 3D picture of her sweet face.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Movement:</span> She is definitely not moving as much. No one but me seems worried by this.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Milestones:</span> Growth ultrasound showed her to be 5 lb, 1 oz, and they said I don't need to come back to the high risk ward. Still waiting to see if my doctor is done monitoring her growth. . .<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Gender:</span> Girl<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Labor Signs:</span> Contractions have started, at least I think that's what they are. Nothing regular, but I don't think I ever had contractions until I was induced with Miss N and never with Miss M. They make me tired.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">What I miss: </span>My energy!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">What I am looking forward to: </span>Hopefully seeing my doctor next week. Haven't seen her in a few weeks due to unforeseen things like sickness and emergency c-sections. I don't enjoy repeating my entire history over and over or being told I am a "good girl" by the stupid nurse practitioner. I am not 12.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Weekly Wisdom:</span> Sometimes, your three year old needs extra snuggles. Give them to her.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Complications Update</span>: Well, proteins in my urine were not a concern to the high risk doctor. I am being monitored twice a week but bp seems to be holding steady. I am beginning to get the impression that all of this monitoring, scares, etc., is going to end up being for nothing. Oh well. I guess it is better safe than sorry when we are talking about bringing a new life into this world.MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-48608662976477535842012-03-31T20:44:00.002-07:002012-03-31T20:46:47.960-07:00Wow, But She's So Big!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:donotoptimizeforbrowser/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">I have two children, and most of the people who read this blog know them. One is petite, and one is not. That is why they are often mistaken for twins. The younger one is as tall as the older one, and unless someone has an unexpected growth spurt, she will be taller within a year or so.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">They are both healthy and at a good weight for themselves. I have asked the doctor about this. I have wondered about childhood obesity with my “big” child and failure to thrive with my “small” child, but they are both on their personal growth curves and have been for a while. He is happy with their growth. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">So, lately, I have been thinking about this. The younger child is always exclaimed over, “She can’t be three, she’s so big for three!” “Wow, she’s a big girl!” “Oh I thought she was five!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I wonder, do these comments sink in? We do not use the word “fat” in our house, even though I definitely could fall into that category. We talk about exercise and healthy food. We try to encourage healthy behaviors. But one child is, undeniably, bigger than the other. It’s just in her genetic makeup. My kids have a lot of tall genes in their heritage, one just failed to get any of them. And, for the record, the "bigger" child is not overweight, nor does she have a BMI issue. She is just genetically "big."<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I know that body image is a very real thing for kids, and that it is becoming an issue at younger and younger ages. I know this because I taught. I know this because I was a kid with a body image issue. I want to protect my daughters from this struggle, yet people are already making comments about their bodies. Comparing them to each other. It hurts me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was always the “big” kid in my class. Looking back at pictures, I absolutely was not overweight, but I felt like I was. I remember feeling this way from about fifth grade on. I was not petite, I developed early, and, well, other people in my class were slim and trim. I probably never in my life wore a size 2, but many of the girls throughout my junior high years did. I was also tall, which when you are taller than all of the boys in your class is not always a good thing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I remember being self conscious about my size. I do not want that for my daughters, any of them. But, when people are already making comments about how “big” she is, and I even catch myself doing the same thing, I wonder. Is the damage being done now? If they continue to follow their growth curves, my younger child will have a small, petite older sister she towers over. How will she feel about that? How will I help her accept herself as she is? She already weighs more than big sis. How is she going to feel when she realizes what that means, exactly?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <span style="font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US; mso-bidi-language:AR-SAfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" >But, more importantly, what do I do now? What do I say to the well-meaning older ladies at the store who make comments? How do I assure my little girl that she is fearfully and wonderfully made without being rude to these strangers?</span>MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-32233958725798753292012-03-23T06:33:00.002-07:002012-03-23T06:36:47.616-07:00Hooooooop It!Last night the girls made up a basketball game. N would pass the ball to M across the living room, then M would dribble it to the front door and "shoot" it at the wall. I thought I heard N yell "Hoop it, hoop it M!" so I peeked my head in the room. Sure enough, N was cheering her sister on: "Dribble it, dribble it, now throw it. HOOP IT M! HOOP IT! Yeah! You hooped it!"<br /><br />This, of course, meant "shoot it." as in "shoot a basket." I was cracking up! Then this morning she tossed her jammies up on her top bunk, "Mommy, I love to hoop it!"<br /><br />You just keep hooping it sweet girl, and loving your life and your sister!MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644621885230406420.post-40639729780758730102012-03-22T08:39:00.003-07:002012-03-22T08:48:47.664-07:0031 weeks update<span style="font-weight: bold;">How far along?</span> 31 weeks<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Maternity clothes?</span> Yep.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sleep: </span>Slept through the night two days in a row this week!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Best moment this week:</span> Finding out that my doctor still thinks we will go to term, just with lots of extra monitoring.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Movement:</span> Slowing down a little, but any time I get worried I can get her to move :)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Milestones:</span> On my babycenter week-by-week email I got notice that she should be about 3.3 pounds this week. She was 3.5 at my ultrasound three weeks ago. We grow 'em big! We also have a NAME!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Gender:</span> Girl<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Labor Signs:</span> Nope. A few Braxton Hicks but they are going away.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">What I miss: </span>My house not being a construction zone. Tim is working hard and doing a great job, but this flooring is taking longer than we thought it would!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">What I am looking forward to: </span>Finishing this pregnancy.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Weekly Wisdom:</span> It's ok to relax sometimes. In fact, if you don't, your doctor may just prescribe it ;)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Complications Update</span>: Ok, so, my 24-hour test came back with proteins. That means that my kidneys are not functioning properly. Now, there are two things that could cause this - the high blood pressure and my little adventure in dehydration land over the weekend (which landed my in the hospital). Regardless, this has caused me to be sent in for a consult with the high risk people again. She thinks maybe we need to adjust my medication, but every time they have increased it I have gotten really dizzy and feeling like I am going to faint. My doctor thinks that it is NOT pre-eclampsia and does not anticipate putting me in the hospital or on bed rest, she also thinks we will make it to 39 weeks and a full-term delivery. However, the kidney and blood pressure issue and even the pre-eclampsia do put me at higher risk for placenta failure or placenta previa, not to mention HELLP disease. So, because of that, I have to be monitored very closely.<br /><br />This means twice a week visits to the doctor for two-hour appointments where they do a non-stress test, ultrasound, blood pressure check, and measure the baby. I am so blessed to have good friends. I have already had two offer to help with Miss M during this time so I can go on non-work days. The school also said I maybe could add her to the days she does not come, depending if they are full or not. I am not sure what we are going to do - need to make wise choices because Miss M still needs time with her mommy too. Also, with gas being $4 a gallon, I am not thinking that driving all over town (most of my church friends live in a different town) is a good use of my money, but putting her in school five days per week is not a good use of my time as a mommy.MommaHarmshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10422012921642709424noreply@blogger.com0