Showing posts with label Miriam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miriam. Show all posts

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Miriam's Birthday

Birthday lunch! We took the kids to the lovely and ever healthy, Burger King for the playground and the cheap ice cream. We gave her a the tiniest amount of ice cream in a cone, which she scooped out immediately and then demanded a refill. It took several minutes for her to realize she could EAT the cone.
SO funny.

Then for dinner (we eat frequently around here), everyone's favorites, tacos and watermelon!

Sunshine Birthday Cake!

Helping blow out the candles.

Yes, eating wrapping paper is the most effective way to get it open.

Daddy brought home an extra present!!

Miriam picked out this little baby doll at the store, and she LOVES it. It cracks me up.




At one year old, Miriam:
says "book", "kitty", "mama", "dada", "yeah", and "done"
answers every question you ask her with either "yeah" or a shoulder shrug/raised hand and a "huh?"
Crawls and is trying valiantly to walk. She is so close.
Has two little nubs that barely qualify as teeth.
Is not a great sleeper, but also the easiest sleeper in that I can transfer her from place to place. If only she'd sleep through the night.
such a smiley happy girl.
loves her brothers, even when they get a bit rough.
loves to "read" books.
is peanut at just 17 lbs.
loves our animals.
is a sweet joyful love.

Happy Birthday, Miriam!

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

On the Last Year With Miriam

For a year, we've been blessed with Miriam in our family. Oh what a joy she is. Miriam is an incredible little human with a big spirit.

I have loved the quiet moments and even the chaos that she has brought to our family and our home. She is a snuggle bug and a mover and a shaker. I am thankful for her energy. I didn't realize babies could survive and thrive and be bright and happy on as little sleep as she functions on. Then again, she is my daughter.

I felt fiercely defensive of her so many times this year too as people inevitably remark on the girl-ness of her nature. "Finally got your girl, 'eh?" was asked more times than I can count. Yes. I got her. No I don't love her better than the boys. She's not just my girl. She is my child.

What I wish I could say, when I smile and laugh with the folks in the checkout lane is, we never set out to get a girl. I love her because she is who she is. It goes much deeper than gender or sex. I can't explain this to strangers, but she is more than pink onesies and hairbows.

There have been moments in the last year, when as much as I cherish her babyhood, I ached for her to be older so she can tell me of her mission. What is it she was sent to do? I'm certain, though she'll forget and have to find her way again, that she knows. It is the only explanation I come up with for her being so... her.

Her spirit is bright and joyful. You can't help but love her if you meet her. She is blessed with a gift of a gentle kind way about her, and it has been lovely to watch it begin. I can't wait to witness her grow into it.

My heart expands immeasurably each time we welcome a new soul into our family, and my Miriam was no exception. "Miriam" means "wished for child" and also "beloved" and those terms could not describe her more.

It's not that my heart ached for a girl, no not at all.

My heart ached for her.

Happy Birthday, tomorrow, Baby. My soul sings in gratitude for your presence in our family.

Monday, May 20, 2013

More Critters

So. We live in the woods. We have critters. Late the other night, we heard...someone...moving about in the attic above our heads.

Not cool.

Enter Gus and Jules.

$1000 to whomever gets the reference.



They are about 8 weeks old, and feisty little boogers. The brother and sister pair were adopted from a rescue in New Jersey and picked up halfway in Connecticut today. My dear friend Gail brought them to us. We also enjoyed a lovely lunch with her and her cutie baby girl. It was a good day.

Jonah (the dog) once is mystified by the new creatures. They all met briefly this evening after the little boys and girl went to bed. So far, so good.

The boys are abiding by my strict visitation rules: Two kids at a time, they stay in the bathroom, not picking them up, etc etc. It's going well!

Additionally and most assured UNRELATED, Miriam was introduced to PB&J  this evening. And it was a hit. YAY!

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Then She was Blessed

Thanks to space-available flying by Derek's parents on a couple of days notice, we were able to throw together a family celebration for our Miri-girl to be blessed. Here in Utah, there wasn't any church held for the LDS folks thanks to a temple dedication instead. So, we had to bend the rules a bit and bless Miri Sunday evening over at the church instead of during Sacrament meeting.

It was an absolutely beautiful evening with a spectacularly special blessing bestowed on our baby girl by her daddy, surrounded by worthy family who love her.

This girl, like all my children, is ridiculously blessed. God loves her. This I know.

Anyway, it was 30 loved ones who came, ate delicious (yes, I cooked it and yes it was DELICIOUS!) dinner, and attended her blessing. Children EVERYWHERE, (I barely saw the boys!)  running wild. setting out our fancy dinner in the carport (WE ARE SO KLASSY!) and just letting everyone be together.

(Everyone walking to the church!)

It was the brightest, best day we've had in a long time.

Miriam was less than ecstatic about the day, having the hiccups makes her insanely grumpy, and she was plagued with quite the wicked case of them. Then she got very tired and sick of people bothering her for photographs. I ended up swaddling her up in her dress and all, and her sweet aunts passed her around as she slept. And tooted.

(Grumpy girl)

(Happy Papa, Happy Mama, ANGRY BABY!)

(Still has the hiccups!)

(Trying to sleep through the hiccups, getting blessed is SO HARD!)

We are so blessed with so many. This is the hardest part of relocation. I HATE leaving my people.

But on Sunday, we weren't dwelling on the inevitable departure. Nope. Just the love we all have for a tiny girl.

Good on ya Miriam.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Swinging (In a non-dirty way!)

Oh goodness friends. I gotz to throw this here post up with a quickness. Miriam isn't going to tolerate her swing too much longer.

Swing you say?

Yes. Swing.

See, many years ago, we bought a swing for Henry. He HATED it. Oh so much. In fact he continued to hate ALLLLL swings until after age two. Now he likes them.

Spencer liked swinging at the park, but didn't care for it as a stay-at-home activity.

Therefore, we gave the swing away, declaring that all babies of ours would hereafter and henceforth hate swings.

Enter Miriam.

This child. I tell ya.

She will NOT sleep unless she's moving. (Night time... we're working on.)

I can NOT parent four other children while bouncing her on my yoga ball.

I love to have her in the sling, but even that is not easy to do when you're cooking, doing laundry, etc.


Enter the swing.

I am generally anti-baby-devices. I figure, I got boobs, I got a sling, I got a car seat , I'm all set.

Well. Color me a liar. I friggin' love this stupid swing. Yes, I tell her darn brothers to stay out of/off of/away from the swing 87 times a day. But, know what? It's ok. Because my baby girl will NAP now. It's brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

I love you, Swing. Thank you for your service.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Miri, Week Four

My squishy little goosh, Miriam, is getting bigger.

Four weeks tomorrow.

She knows nights from days.

She naps pretty well.

She is loved dearly by her brothers.

Miriam gulps her food like crazy and then cries until you plunk her up on your shoulder like a sack of taters and thump her heartily on the back for several minutes. She belches, she fusses, just keep thumping!

Standing and bouncing is particularly loved by her as well during her air bubble/gas attacks.

It's been absolutely delightful getting to know her. She's sweet, and darling. Her cheeks are satin and her hair is as soft as peach fuzz.


Friday, August 24, 2012

Nothing Much

Life is a big pile of diapers and poo lately. In a totally fantastic way of course.

But it makes for lame blog posts. I just ain't got much new material.

So instead, photographic evidence that Ezra thinks Miriam is HIS baby. It is adorable and so obnoxious.

I adore these folks. I'm so glad I have FIVE babies to love. So grateful.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Growing Pains?

It's rough, a sweet tiny daughter who doesn't have clue that night time is for sleeping.

Last night, instead of sleeping, we watched Friends on DVD. (Season 6, disc 1, in case you were wondering. "I'm SO DRUNK!").

Anyway, suffice it to say I'm very very tired.

The joys outweigh the exhaustion. The sweet tiny baby moments that do not last nearly long enough. They grow and change before your very eyes, these tiny people!

The biggest joy (and frustration, if I'm being 100% honest) is how hard these boys love Miss Miri.

They love her. A lot. Ezra throws absolute tantrums if I carry Miriam into his line of sight and do not let him hold her. He sits on the couch, bangs on his thighs and screams "BABY!"repeatedly until I hand her over. There's no point in ignoring him. It's not worth the fight.

And Henry who says 123 times a day, "I LOVE OUR BABY GIRL!" And he does.

Spencer has taken to calling her "Meers" which... I don't entirely understand, but he says with with SUCH affection, I really can't get too grumpy.

And Oliver. Oh Oliver. He just wants to touch her.Touching her would be fine, except he has a snotty nose and I desperately want to keep Miriam from getting a cold.

I beg and beg him to please NOT touch her. And he really can't help himself.

But today, I was battling the sleepy, and Miriam had passed out after nursing, so I'd laid her in the recliner, and I was just taking a moment to sit on the couch and breathe.

Oliver, assuring me he would not touch, climbed up next to her and "read" her three different books, before he kissed her (sigh) and went off to play.

It was completely adorable.

We're definitely ironing out some wrinkles as a family of seven. The number of melt downs a child has 8in a day seems to be directly proportional to how old they are. (Henry: 1-2, Spencer:3-4, Oliver: 5-10, Ezra: cried all morning). But the moments like this make it all okay.

We're getting there.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Miriam's Birth Story (LONG!!!)

Well. The big boys are at church. The littlest boy is in bed (yes, naps trump church when one Ezra Lee decided 4:27 was MORNING ) and Miriam and I are sitting here. And it's my birthday.

I should nap. But, I've accepted that I am going to be tired and there's not a nap in this world that is going to undo that.

So instead, Miriam's birth story. My birthday gift to you. ;)


So, by way of back story, Ezra was born 20 months ago. His birth was rough for me. It was good, and it worked out perfectly, but certain aspects of it were very very hard. I carried a bit (a lot) of fear and anxiety throughout this pregnancy because of it. Would labor this time be as physically demanding? Emotionally? I couldn't handle the irrational fear that I was going to end up in some sort of identical situation. And I couldn't get passed it. I would jokingly tell people who asked about planning another home birth, that yes that was the plan, but I still wanted an epidural!

So, fast forward to Monday, August 13th. Kim, Midwife Super Hero Extraordinaire and her two fantastic daughters arrived just in time for dinner. Having my due date recorded at August 15th and having had every single baby at 39 weeks 5 or 6 days, we all joked that Tuesday would be the day.

Kim left a large slew of clients still pregnant, some OVERdue, and I knew that she needed to haul butt back home as soon as possible. However, I also knew by the time the boys were in bed that we'd have a baby by morning. I don't know HOW my body does this, but every single kid comes at the SAME time. It's weird. Truly weird.

I didn't say anything to anyone because I was afraid to jinx it. I'd been having contractions since week 34, some so bad toward the end, I thought labor might actually start. I didn't want to undo it if it was real. Silly, but still. Six weeks of contractions will make one do weird things.

We hung around, watched tv, and finally put ourselves to bed. Derek had blown up the pool and gotten the liner all ready earlier in the day, so we could rest easy, knowing it was all ready for water the minute I wanted it.

At 12:38am on Tuesday, August 14, Ezra woke up. That child is NEVER EVER going to consistently sleep through the night. Never.

He let me rock him for just a minute and went back to bed with no fuss.

And I was up for the duration. Contractions had started long before I'd gone to bed, but I had managed about an hour of sleep. Not great, but whatareyagonnado?

I woke Derek at about 1:45 to tell him "REAL DEAL!" and he got up and got things started. That man. I tell ya, he's a good one. I'm keeping him.

Next call was to Stacy, my dear friend and doula. I had asked Stacy before I'd even gotten pregnant this time around to come to the birth. We are really close, and without any real solid reason (after having had two home births with no doula present) I felt I'd need her.

Then we called Kim. Yes, she was sleeping in my guest room. But we called her so she could come whenever she wanted. It was funny.

Everyone wandered in eventually. I just did my thing until the pool was ready. (SOMEDAY I WILL HAVE A TANKLESS WATER HEATER... just saying.) Contractions weren't awful at all, really. Breathing mostly was all they required.


Next came the worst part of baby-having The combination of baby's position, plus pain causes my extremities to basically STOP WORKING. Hands? Nope, can't use 'em. Arms? No, not really. Legs? Gone, other than insane cramping. Face? I can't even open my eyes or mouth.

 I can't say I enjoyed it ever in any of my labors and here it was again. So, everyone in the room got to help! Derek had to constantly (and by constantly, I mean, if he stopped for a nanosecond, I scolded him.) keep massaging my legs. Stacy and Kim were on hand-duty. It's the only thing that stops me from panicking.

It's really actually scary for me to not be able to do ANYTHING at all.

But, then after a pretty short while, baby shifted and I was fine. Ah, feeling. It was lovely. Contractions also took a big break which was welcome.

So, we chatted. Kim's daughters were also invited to the birth, so at some point, they had come in.

At one point, I asked what time it was and it was 3:30.

Contractions started picked up again.

And here is where all that fear that I had been carrying around for almost two years kicked into high gear.

I declared that I was going to be unable to continue in  the process. That I was terrified. That I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT. And therefore would not be.

Now, I have talked many MANY women through this phase of labor: that end when you're pretty sure you're going to die.

And I know all the right things to say to get a woman to find within her, the strength to let it happen.

And it ALWAYS happens.

So, Kim and Stacy (and Derek) said ALLLLL the right things. The things I've said countless times to powerful, strong, scared, tired mamas.

Bless them.

I could not, however, seem to find the words to explain that I was not JUST SAYING IT. I wasn't just done. I wasn't just in transition, I really really really meant.

I was not going to be pushing this baby out.

No. Really.

It wasn't going to happen.

I couldn't. I wouldn't. It hurt too much. I wasn't interested. I had reached a point wherein I was literally incapable of doing so. I was completely paralyzed with the fear that it was going to take hours and hours  like it had with Ezra.

Oh and my friendly neighborhood vasovagal issues crashed down on me with full force again.

So, here I was: a mess.

A sobbing, crying, can't-feel-my-own-body-EXCEPT-for-contractions girl, in a fishy pool, yelling at everyone to KEEP RUBBING whatever various body part they'd been handed (Kim's daughter had been initiated into the doula-role at this point, pretty sure she had my hand) fully dilated, refusing to push. Kim checked and tried some "guided pushing" which helped ground me a little, but the fact was, I wasn't going to push.

I pushed a tiny amount so people would leave me the heck alone. That made my water break.

But I was not pushing this baby out.

So, I breathed. Everyone seemed fine with that decision. I breathed. That's all I did.

Kim told me to find the baby at one point, and I did, and she was a good knuckle up. Fine. Be up there. I didn't care. She could just stay up there.

I was not pushing this baby out.

Just as I settled into my new "Screw all of you. I am NOT DOING THIS" routine of breathing through contractions, something changed.

My body decided I was done.

With zero effort from myself, the biggest contraction I have EVER felt in FIVE babies took over.

I screamed. I swore. I tried to STOP IT and it wouldn't.

I felt the baby move move move down and out. My hands were around her and she was out.

One minute, she was nowhere near here. 10 seconds later. she was in my arms. 

5:34am, Tuesday, August 14th.

Ouch. And I cried. Ugly cried.

Everyone was a bit... surprised to see that baby. According to Derek who was the only one at a good angle TO see anything said she shot out like a cannon.

Yes. My nether regions agree with you.

But here she was.

For the record: I did not push her out. I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't going to do it.

And the only thing I can think is that God knew I wasn't joking. He knew I really really couldn't do it. I wasn't being dramatic. I absolutely, as my little, ridiculous self couldn't. It was beyond me.

So, instead, SHE did it.

That was cool with me.

The boys had woken up EARLY today, of course, so Kim's girls had been regulated to babysitters and so, even though Kim TRIED to get them there in time, Miri had other plans, and they were right outside the door when she flew out. The boys came in just minutes later to see her and then went on their way to eat and watch cartoons.

 Eventually placenta came, and I got up and collapsed into bed.

The morning passed with weights and measures, and Derek and my poor Dad trying to figure out how to make the pump drain the stupid pool. They got it figured out, but I'm pretty sure my poor daddy is scarred for life.

It worked out. It was exactly what we needed. It was wonderful.

It TOTALLY sucked for a while, but that is pretty par for the course. My birth team was incredible. They never waivered from their "you can do this" stance, which is good because if they'd agreed with ME at any point, then I'm pretty sure that would have been the end of the "home" part of the birth. They were dear, kind, gentle, firm, helpful, smart, and present.

And I ended up needing every single one of them. I'm so thankful for them all.

It's hard work, this birthing babies thing, no matter what. Each kid is just so different. So, once again, here I am, learning, growing up and hopefully, being made into a better mother, person, and human.

Miri's stats again: 8lbs 2 oz, 20 1/4 inches long.

We all love her. And we're happy she's here!

And in case you missed it earlier : I did not push that baby out.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012


We welcomed Miriam Anne into our family yesterday, August 14 at 5:34 in the morning. Photo

She weighed in at a respectable 8lbs 2 oz, and then promptly pooped herself down half a pound. ;)
20 1/4 inches.
She looks like all the rest, most strongly resembling Oliver.  The fact that she is a girl is perfectly normal and doesn't feel "weird" at all.

However, Oliver did ask why we cut her penis off.

My insistence that we did NOT cut off ANYTHING fell on deaf, concerned three-year-old ears.

I will have to post the WHOLE story because it ended up being a story, but for today, I'll say, she was born at home, in the water, right where she belonged. Photo

She and God knew what I needed while I was busy trying to be the boss of things.

Like I said, it's a story, and I'll promise I'll share. But this mama is tired. And five children, as it turns out, is a lot.

So, maybe in the next few days I'll be able to put words into order to create a semblance out of what was an experience that I sincerely hope makes me a better, stronger person.

Pretty sure it will.


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