"He's Wonderful and Brilliant and We're Getting Married..."

We love some chick flicks in my family and growing up, Father of the Bride was always a favorite (so much so that Husband and I named our dog Banks). My baby sister got married one week ago and I could not stop thinking about the scene where George sees his grown daughter as a tiny five year old at the kitchen table.

"He's wonderful and brilliant and we're getting married..."

For some time now, I've told Mallory that I still see her as the little girl in her third grade yearbook picture. She's wearing a red courderoy jumper with a denim shirt underneath (oh, the 90's) and her blonde hair is curled from a night spent in sponge rollers. She is so tiny and still thought her big sister was cool. For years, no matter the occasion, I would look at my baby sister as she got her driver's license, went to her senior prom, graduated from high school, moved into her freshman dorm room, and graduated from college, and I would still see that giddy nine year old with sponge rolled hair.

But now, as I watch my baby sister marry the love of her life, a man we have known as her boyfriend for eight years now, she is no longer a baby. I see this beautiful, confident, self sufficient woman before me. I am so proud of her and the woman she has become. I admire her spontaneity, her honesty, and her general attitude toward life. (I've always said I want to be her when I grow up). She has truly married her best friend, her high school sweetheart, a boy I have watched grow into a man, and I couldn't be happier. 

Just look at what a breathtaking bride she was: 

http://bgphotographyblog.blogspot.com/2011/04/peter-mallory-krothapalli.html

Mallory and Peter didn't want speeches given at their rehearsal dinner, so I will give mine here. Mallory, you are my best friend, the best sister for whom anyone could ever wish, and such a great aunt to my Catherine. I am so proud to finally call Peter my brother-in-law, although we have considered him family for so long now, it's simply a technicality. I am so happy for you both and so glad Catherine will have cool Aunt Mallory and Uncle Peter to escape to when her parents are acting too much like parents.

Be happy. Love each other. And spoil my children rotten.

I love you so much and am so very happy for you both!

Hemangio....what?

When we finally brought our little girl home from the hospital, we were too excited to notice a small red mark on her forehead. It wasn't until we took her newborn photos that we realized it wasn't just a scratch from her tiny fingernails, but was a mark on her skin. Thinking it was probably just a small birth mark, I made a mental note to ask the pediatrician about it, but really thought nothing of it.

Then, it got bigger and darker. So at our 2 week appointment, I asked the doctor what it could be. He explained that it is a strawberry hemangioma, more commonly known as just a strawberry. They may appear anywhere on the body, but are most common on the face, scalp, back, or chest. They consist of small, closely packed blood vessels. They may be absent at birth, and develop at several weeks. They usually grow rapidly, remain a fixed size, and then subside. Our pediatrician said that, in most cases, strawberry hemangiomas disappear by the time a child is two and, if not, there are laser removal procedures that can be done. According to our research, they are most common in Caucasian, white, female, premature infants, all of which our C is.

More importantly, it is harmless. She feels no pain and really has no idea it is there, which did ease my anxiety greatly. Still, it's never easy to learn your child has something for which you can do absolutely nothing to fix.  

At almost six weeks, it is a protruding red bump a little larger than a quarter and it will most likely get bigger before it gets smaller. Overall, it really just looks worse than it is, but I would be lying if I said it didn't upset me. It breaks my heart that our beautiful baby girl has to deal with this big bump on her forehead; and I hate that for as long as two years, I will have to explain to nosy strangers that I didn't hurt my child.

Luckily, it should be gone by the time she is old enough to care and we will just rock some cute headbands until then!

Fun Facts

1. C is apparently in the midst of some kind of six week old trauma and is inconsolable.

2. This has been my view for the majority of the day:

3. She finally screamed herself to sleep in my lap... but I won't dare move her so that I could be remotely productive.

4. I honestly can't remember if I brushed my teeth today.

5. Coffee is the only reason I am functioning.

6. I still think motherhood is pretty awesome.

Count Your Blessings

In high school, I spent my Wednesday afternoons volunteering with my friend Sallye at Angels for the Elderly, an assisted living home in Montgomery. Sallye is a gifted pianist and played hymns for the residents while I visited, played cards, and sang along. Each week, she asked for requests and each week, she played the same classic hymns from the Baptist Hymnal. For some reason tonight, one of their favorites, Count Your Blessings, is running through my head. 

Count your blessings. Count them one by one.

As I sing the chorus over and over in my head, I can't help but think of all the blessings in my life. 

I am awake because my little girl is asleep on my chest and I can't bare to move her. Her tiny body is scrunched into a little ball, her head rests upon my chest, her right arm lies limp on my arm. Her body trembles with each breath, her tiny lips pursed as if she were deep in thought. I could easily move her to her cradle beside me and finally close my eyes after such a long, eventful day... but I don't. Instead, I drink it in and know that moments like these are what motherhood is all about. I know that she won't be this small forever and that I will long for these days when she is too big or too old or just to wiggly to contain.

As Catherine's original due date passed by last Friday, I couldn't help but think back to her birthday and remember what a scary, exciting, and wonderful day it was. I began that day alone and terrified and ended it with a healthy newborn daughter and a family of three. More often than not, things do not go as planned and my one month and two days old daughter on my 40th week of gestation proves it. What a blessing it is that I had friends and a talented medical team to make an otherwise terrifying experience, a celebration.

40 weeks "pregnant"
3-25-11

In the past five weeks, we have welcomed countless friends and family into our home, showering us with gifts, providing food when we were too tired to shop for groceries, let alone cook something, and loving our child boundlessly. Even before we could come home, our hospital room overflowed with visitors. I am humbled by our support system and elated that Catherine is already surrounded by such a large safety net of love. 

When I sit back and examine my life, I find nothing but happiness. I'm not sure what we have done to deserve such greatness. But, tonight, I attempt to count my blessings, and realize that I simply cannot count that high...

40,320 Minutes

40,320 minutes. 28 days. 1 month. 

However you measure it, it's still unbelievable that my Catherine has been a part of this world for that long. I look at her and I am mesmerized by her mere existence. 

In one month, I have watched her gain strength as she struggles with the weight of her own head. I have watched her eyes focus more with each passing day, studying the details of my face as I talk to her. I have learned the subtle differences in her cries and have adapted (as much as possible) to her (our) sleep schedule. I have already folded and put away the first of her outgrown clothes as she is quickly surpassing "premie" stature.

I looked at pictures from the hospital today, from her first moments on this earth, and I wept at the realization of how quickly a month has passed us by and at how much she has already changed. I want to freeze time to make sure I can soak it all in. I want to hold her tiny body against mine until the feeling is saved to my memory forever. I want to breathe in that intoxicating baby smell that cannot be reproduced and savor the impossible softness of her skin. I want to record the sweet sounds of her sleeping in my mind to recall when she no longer sleeps beside me. 


And as I lie awake in anticipation of the 3:30 a.m. feeding, I want to put this moment in my pocket and keep it forever. Because an entire month has passed in seconds and I just can't wrap my mind around it.

1 day old (2-24-11)

1 month old (3-23-11)

Three Weeks Ago...

Three weeks ago, I couldn't tell you how many milliliters were in an ounce; my laundry did not consist of mostly tiny pink things; and my days were not divided into two hour increments or measured in bottles and dirty diapers.

Three weeks ago, I had no clue how to operate a Diaper Genie (and still really don't...); I ate meals and typed using both hands; and Johnson's Baby Cream was not part of my daily beauty regimen.

Three weeks ago, I didn't know what the weight of a tiny person asleep on my chest felt like; and I didn't realize I could spend minutes upon minutes upon hours just watching someone breathe.

Three weeks ago, I didn't know how much my heart could expand or how incomplete my life was until now.


Three weeks ago, February 23rd started off as just another day...

Until my life changed forever...

Just three weeks ago...

Happy three weeks to my sweet Catherine. It's amazing what can change in just a few weeks!

Hello World

Today, I received an email with the subject line: 37 Weeks: Ready. Steady. Almost time. They must not know my Catherine.

While today marks my 37th week gestationally, I sit in awe of my 9 day old daughter. We are officially new parents. Four and a half weeks earlier than expected.

Last Tuesday night, just two days after my baby shower, something wasn't right. Husband was four hours away for work and I was home alone, miserably dealing with what I thought was an intolerance to a change in my diet. I drank tons of water, took an emergency trip to CVS for some Milk of Magnesia and V8 Splash, and talked to my mom on the phone about how unbelievably uncomfortable I was. I soaked in a warm bath, tried breathing exercises, and listened to calming music. Still no relief. By 4:30 a.m., I had only slept in 15 minute intervals due to some cramping, and I felt something unfamiliar. 


My water broke. In my bed. While Husband was miles away.


Apparently those "cramps" every 15 minutes were contractions and I was officially in labor. Alone. At 35 and 1/2 weeks.


I called the hospital to let them know I was on my way (as soon as I could find someone to come get me) and began calling my list of emergency contacts. As my friend with the crazy early work schedule, Ryan was quick to answer her phone at such an ungodly hour and she and her husband were in my driveway in minutes. She raced to the hospital with the ease of Earnhardt, emergency flashers on, and got me safely to labor and delivery where they immediately admitted me into triage and began to monitor my contractions.


Worried by my early labor and convinced they could stop my contractions, Ryan called Husband to update him, telling him not to worry because they were pretty sure I was not having this baby right now. However, within minutes of telling him that, my OBGYN entered the room, looked at the ultrasound and, not liking the lack of movement she saw, told me to get ready for a C-section because we needed to get this baby out now.


Shock. Anxiety. Fear. Words just can't adequately describe the immense feeling of helplessness I felt as nurses, techs, and doctors flooded the room and prepped me while wheeling me down the hallway. Would this baby be okay? What could possibly be wrong? I had followed all the pregnancy rules obsessively and still, this baby was coming way too early and without her Daddy there.


They wheeled me into the OR, gave me a spinal block and moved me to the operating table. I waited anxiously as I felt pressure and heard the doctors on the opposite side of the sheet. They had my little girl, but the umbilical cord was wrapped twice around her neck and twice more around her little body. My water breaking early had been a distress signal from my little girl. Ryan held my hand and I waited for that reassuring sound to fill the room. I needed to hear my baby cry. Finally, I heard her. The most amazing sound in the world. My daughter's cry.


5 pounds, 2 ounces, 19 inches long, and a head full of dark hair, Catherine Elizabeth made her debut.


They brought her to my side so I could welcome my daughter to the world. She was pink and perfect. Her deep blue eyes open wide. I looked at my daughter and simply said, "Hi baby"; and then watched the nurse take her directly to the NICU for observation with Ryan by her side. Tears streamed down my face as a wave of emotions rushed through me. Ecstatic that she was here safely, terrified that something could still go wrong, overwhelmed that the past three hours had resulted in Catherine, and upset that Husband had missed it all. It was official. We were parents.


I type this one-handed, as my other arm happily occupies my healthy nine day old daughter. I watch her breathe, watch her purse her tiny lips like her Daddy. She has my eyes and his eye lashes. She coos softly and nuzzles her chubby cheeks closer to mine. I am hopelessly in love with this tiny little girl. 

Welcome to the world, baby Catherine. We've been waiting for you our entire lives.