We Are All Adults. When Did That Happen?!

Growing up I thought that being an adult was the coolest thing. I was envious of all the older people I knew from church and school. Watching my mom pay bills, run errands, grocery shop and take care of the kids was something I looked forward to doing some day. All I ever wanted to do was stay home when I had children of my own and be the perfect mom, homemaker and wife. I am having one of those days where I feel like I am failing miserably at all the above. All the running around, errands, phone calls, cleaning, etc that comes with being a mom, homemaker and wife are taking their toll on me. Not to mention I am running one business and helping run another on top of everything else. I am feeling way overwhelmed and I am afraid the slightest thing is going to put me over the edge. I feel like I am on a carousel: I'm moving but not going anywhere. If I knew that being a grownup was this hard, I would have taken my time getting to be one. Don't get me wrong, I love my little ones more than life its self. I just feel bad that all I seem to worry about and think about is business. If I had the kind of job that I could quit, I would have done so along time ago. Since I am all ready an adult, who's job is it to teach me how to communicate with others, stand up for myself, and deal with things when they don't go as planned? I thought being an adult meant it didn't matter what others thought of you and you had control over your own life. Boy, was I wrong! I have been wondering lately if writing a blog is something I want to keep doing. The people who read it, I usually talk to on a regular basis, so they usually aren't reading anything they didn't all ready know. I don't have any hidden insight into the world's problems or any random bits of wisdom that makes you stop and think, "WOW! This woman is amazing!" But I did realize that writing down certain things helps me feel better. This blog is more of an online journal for my benefit. We'll see how long I keep doing it...it's much cheaper than a therapist.

Watch Me Grow Update

Emma Catherine

So I am finally sitting down to write the story of the day Emma Catherine joined her crazy family. I know I am only three weeks behind, but hey, better late then never. Warning: Very long post that most won't care about, but until I get her scrapbook and start that, I have to write it somewhere.

On June 15, (Friday) Marcus and I went to the doctor AGAIN. He checked me and nothing had really progressed beyond what we had been for the past two weeks. (despite all the walking we had done to try to speed things along.) I was past my due date and ready to be done. We all ready had to go to the hospital twice for possible complications, but thankfully, everything was fine. So Dr. K said he would have me come in on Sunday (Father's Day) and they would start me. But, of course, it couldn't be that simple. Having the baby on Sunday didn't work with all the happenings of the next week. We had to make different arrangements for Christian and the girls, my parents were not going to be able to be here because they had to be in Vernal for Madeleines' 1st birthday party, and Marcus would have to leave early Monday morning and wouldn't be able to spend anytime with me and the baby. So begins my horrible day.

We make the arrangements to be at the hospital 6 a.m. on Sunday, despite Marcus' protest. I could either have the doctor there on Sunday and Marcus there for the actual delivery or have to have some strange doctor deliver my baby. I really like my doctor and wanted him to be there. We made a million phone calls to try to schedule the next couple of days. I was stressed to the max and more then a couple of tears were shed that day. I went to the store and got groceries and all the last minute things I could think of. Since we were going to be in the hospital on Father's Day, we were going to celebrate it on Saturday. I bought everything I needed to make a nice dinner for Marcus and I was all about having one more day to do things....ummm, yah...that worked out for me.

I went to bed on Friday and everything was fine. I couldn't get comfortable or go to sleep, but I was used to that. Than at 1:30 a.m. I woke up and didn't feel good. From that point on, I was pretty miserable. At 4:30 a.m. I got up to go to the bathroom and knew that something was wrong. I woke up Marcus and told him I thought we needed to go to the hospital. I hadn't had any contractions, but I was all ready bleeding and in constant pain. Marcus called one of our friends to come over and sit with the kids until Marcus' mom could get down here and watch them. As Marcus was on the phone, I had my first contraction and I seriously thought I was going to DIE.

We get to the hospital and they put us in a room and attach all the fun monitors and ask all the same questions we were asked twice that past week. My contractions were about two minutes apart but I wasn't dilating. We did many laps around the maternity wing of the hospital and waited patiently for things to change...okay, maybe we weren't patient, but we did wait. I hadn't taken the nurse up on her offer for pain meds or an epidural at this point; I was trying to be strong. Marcus help me do the breathing exercises we were taught, and we listened to a relaxation CD. Those things helped, but I was still miserable. But without Marcus' help, I don't know if I would have made it through. I finally caved and agreed to have an epidural. If I didn't take the nurse up on the offer at this point, she said it would be awhile before I could get it. I decided the wait was up. I was more scared of getting the epidural than actually giving birth. I also felt a little bit like a failure for "caving" and getting pain meds. I wanted to be strong and go as long as I could before I took the drugs. It didn't take me long to appreciate the epidural and feeling guilty didn't last very long. I actually ended up getting two different epidurals because the dude who was doing it hit a vein the first time and had to redo the whole thing. It didn't hurt as bad as I had thought and life suddenly got much better. I also got Patocin which helped speed things along nicely.

I was in bed for the rest of the day, in and out of sleep and wanting food but not being able to eat anything but ice chips and lifesavers. My parents were able to come out for the day and then they would just leave on Sunday to go to the birthday party. They stopped by right before I started to push. About 3:30 p.m. the nurse decided it was time to have the doctor come and get ready to push. Thankfully my doctor was available after all. (He originally wasn't going to be in town, but his plans for the day fell threw and as long as we had the baby before 6 he would be able to deliver her.) I was expecting the pushing and the actual delivery to be this horrible, awful, painful experience. I have to admit, the delivery was a piece of cake. My worst fear was that I was going to poop while pushing; I couldn't stop thinking about that even while I was pushing. Anyway, I didn't have to push too long and things were going well. The doctor did have to use a little suction cup thing to get her to come all the way out. At 4:00 p.m. on June 16, 2007, Emma Catherine joined our family. She weighed 8 lbs 2 oz. and was 20 inches long. She is perfectly healthy and usually happy. We stayed in the hospital until Monday morning and then came home. My sister and her baby came out along with my parents. My sister was going to help me out the first week because Marcus was going to be gone a lot doing photo shoots. (I wouldn't have made it through the first week without her.)

The first week of Emma's life was crazy. Marcus was gone for most of it, we had company most of the week, a wedding to attend that weekend and I got no maternity leave from work. Most women get a least a couple of weeks off from work right after they have a baby. Nope, not me. I am bitter and maybe even a little resentful that I didn't get to devote all my time and attention to my new baby. I don't necessarily direct those feelings to anyone in particular, but I do feel like I should have been able to focus more on my baby then on working and dealing with issues that didn't really involve me.

Things are finally starting to calm down and we are slowly getting into a routine. Emma is definitely a blessing. I am very thankful I was blessed with such a beautiful baby. I have gotten a few comments that have made me upset. "You finally have one of your own." "I know you will be a great mom." (That was made numerous times and written numerous times in congrats and baby shower cards.) Christian is my own. He is every bit my child as Emma is. I will be a great mom? So I suck with Christian? Thanks. I understand that a lot of people don't really understand adoption or the feelings and emotions that are involved with it. Christian will always be my baby. Emma did not replace him. They are both my babies who I love more then life itself.

Anyone still reading? :) I warned you it would be long. I think this post was more for myself then for anyone else. I had feelings and thoughts I needed to get off my chest and wanted to write down details before I forgot them. I will TRY (yes Mom, I said TRY) to keep those far away updated on Emma and post pictures as often as I can, but I am a little busy. (A newborn, a two and half year old, two businesses, and life in general.) Thanks to all those who have helped out in the last few weeks as well. I really do appreciate it.

For Real?!

Picture this:

Christian is crying...better yet, screaming hysterically because I can't hold him. Emma is crying because she is hungry and I can't feed her because I am trying to calm Christian down.

The phone rings:

Hi Monica. It's Connie. I just thought I would call you and let you know that there is a lady in the ward who's niece has two little boys who are 3 and 4 that need to be adopted. You were the first one I thought of to call. I know it's probably bad timing, but I thought I would let you know.

Ummm...okay. Thanks for letting me know. That gives me something to think about.

Seriously!? Seriously?! That would give me a 4 year old, 3 year old, 2 and 1/2 year and a 2 week old....ummmm...yah, not gonna happen.

But, at the same time, that phone call was three days ago and I can't stop thinking about those two little boys. I hope they can find a good home and parents who can love them. It wouldn't be fair to those little boys or the handful of kids we all ready have to bring anyone else into our family right now. I would end up being locked up in a padded room much sooner than I had anticipated.

---There are many posts I am planning on doing about Emma and all about her birth story and how life has been the past two weeks...I am just a little busy.