Tuesday, October 11, 2011

one week




Quincy is one week old.


 

I think she is precious.  



 

Quincy is such a good baby.  She is so sweet and little and soft and squishy.  I just want to kiss her all the time.  I love her like crazy.  And so does everyone else here in her family.  She smiled at me yesterday.  For real.  She looked right at me very alert.  I smiled and talked to her and she smiled really big right at me.  About 45 seconds later she started to fuss.  She was done with our conversation.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Introducing...

Quincy Taylor, AKA "QT"

7 lbs, 8.4 oz



Here's Maryann saying, "Look at me, I can do this without an epidural."



No photos were taken of the no-epidural-transformation that followed.

But she did well. And Quincy showed up before the doctor did.



I think she has dark hair. We'll see what it looks like tomorrow. She's about 5 hours old and already cooing and opening her eyes. We're so thrilled to have her.



Thanks for all your prayers and good wishes!

Saturday, October 1, 2011

mud puddle morning

This is what we did before breakfast this last Monday morning.  Brian asked me to do a quick something or other outside and I was followed.  Our driveway becomes a pond,  sometimes a lake, when it rains.




Sidon did a lot of this.


He thought the jumping and splashing was pretty cool.  He kept making comment about how it was 'duhty'.  He liked to go from the concrete part of the puddle to the mud part of the puddle and feel the 'duht' under his feet. 

"Mama?  Mama?  Mom.  MAAHHHM!"

"WHAT Sidon?"

(We start a lot of conversations like this. )

"Duht. Fun."

"Yes.  There's dirt.  You feel the mud.  Do you like the dirt?"

"Duhty.  Fun."


 His pants got more and more waterlogged until this happened.  At first he was concerned.

Then his sisters started giggling hysterically and he thought it was a good thing.  Anything goofy he can do that gets his sisters going is a good thing.



So we just took the pants off and used what tiny semi dry spot we could find along the waist band to wipe away that disgusting bit of snot he was about to lick up (we had recently been sick) and went on with our business.

my baby boy

Today Sidon had a very hard time taking his nap.  He is already in his toddler bed (Brian's fault), so he just kind of played around the room for almost an hour before I went in to try and put him back to bed.  There's no toys in there so I only realized he was not in bed when he started playing with the door stop.  You know, the ones that make a really satisfying 'boing' noise.  Not going down for a nap is very rare for Sidon.  I'm actually glad he's in the toddler bed.  He does very well and he loves it.  But this time he really did not want to go down.  He was quite sad when I tried to put him down again.  After a few minutes I went back to him and gathered him up in my arms.  After, of course, wiping all the snot off his nose and mouth and pretty much his entire face that his crying had let loose.  And then I sang to him and rocked my baby boy who is not much more than a month away from turning two.  I rocked him and sang to him until he fell asleep in my arms lying on top of my ginormous belly.  I looked at his sweet little sleeping face, his slightly parted lips, his cute little nose and his long wet eyelashes and adored him, nearly worshipped him actually, as mothers do.

And then I may or may not have had to stop singing my lullaby because I may or may not have started crying like a baby myself.

Nobody prepares you for how much it hurts to be a mother sometimes.  Yes, personally I think the joy of motherhood really does make up for all the other more unpleasant aspects, but really I just didn't know it was going to hurt so much sometimes.  And I'm not even thinking about the physical aspects of bearing and raising children.  That is a whole different discussion that could go on for a long time.  I'm talking about when you love your child so much that it physically makes your heart ache.  You ache at their pain and sorrow and trials (I'm not looking forward to teenage years) and you ache when you wonder if you are doing an all right job taking care of them and teaching them, you ache when you wonder if they really know that you love them, you ache when you are just so frustrated with them and you just can't seem to have enough patience to handle it all but then you look at them and realize yet again what amazing creatures they are and what a privilege it is to be their mother, you ache when they grow up too fast and hope that you are enjoying their babyhood/toddlerhood/childhood while it lasts, you just love them so much and it aches.  Really sometimes my heart aches when it is filled with love for my family and I am just rejoicing over being the mother of my beautiful children and all the world is happy.  Is something wrong with me?  Don't answer that.  Especially if you're my brother. 

I get the impression from speaking with my mother that it never ends.  Which could get me started on a whole different cycle of heartaching, thinking about my childhood and even my adulthood from my mother's perspective and aching for her and wishing that I had understood her better (especially as a teenager).  But that is just a little more than I can handle.  It's bordering on psychologically unhealthy.  So...


I think I cried because my baby boy is not really my baby anymore.  I think I cried because I was really grateful for that moment, that opportunity to rock him to sleep as my baby one more time.  It was a sweet moment for me.  I'm having another baby very very soon.  And I'm overjoyed (and exhausted, if we're being honest) at the thought of welcoming another tiny little being to our family.  But I just had a hormonal moment of grieving over the end of an era (for lack of a better word).  I'm done now.  Bring on the next era.  No really.  It's October now.  So it's all right.  This kid is hurting my insides so much with all of her pummeling I wouldn't mind if my water broke right now.  Even if my bathroom and my kitchen are both desperately in need of cleaning, and even if my hospital bag isn't packed, and even if I don't really know where I'm going to take my kids while I'm in the hospital, and even if my husband did forget his phone.  I can always call the emergency room and ask for Dr. Taylor, right?






This is Sidon completely zonkered out earlier in September.




Seriously, how can I not adore him?  At least when he's sleeping.