Just a Little Update

You know when you create a new blog and you're like, "Oh, yeah, I'll blog all the time and stuff and let people know about our little family and I'll be diligent about it and it's going to become my 'thing'" and then life gets in the way and you rarely blog? No? Just me? Oh...

Well, here I am. Baby is in bed and I'm finally updating the blog. And by updating the blog, I most definitely mean gushing about my baby because I'm obsessed with her.

Where are we? Well, the only thing that has really changed for us is that little E is growing like a weed. She is 4.5 months old now! It has been so fun to see her learn new things and sometimes I wish I could see the world through her little eyes. Discovering her feet, exploring every inch of my face with her hands, sticking anything within arms reach in her mouth to taste--everything is new to her and she's having the time of her life figuring it all out.

She giggles at the strangest things. Her first laugh was after I sneezed, but then by the next day it wasn't funny anymore. She giggles and gets a huge grin when I sing her "Electric Avenue" for some reason. At one of my Young Women activities she got the biggest kick out of one of the young women jumping up backwards onto the stage in the cultural hall. But by far my favorite is when I bring her in the bathroom in her bouncer chair when I shower and play peek-a-boo with the curtain and she belly laughs. I'm convinced there is no greater sound than baby laughter. It brightens the whole room!

Some other new things: she learned how to roll over from her back to her belly and gets super frustrated when she gets stuck on her belly and can't roll back over (see picture below). She has found her voice and likes to yell. Loudly. She is getting super close to sitting up on her own. And all of this is bittersweet for me. I love watching her grow, but she's just doing it so quickly! There are lots of days where I miss my snuggly little newborn that actually took naps and didn't try to chew on my fingers all day long.

She's just my favorite person. I love that I get to spend my days with her. She can have the worst night, waking me up several times and I can be so grumpy and frustrated, but when she gives me that huge cheeser with her tongue sticking out when she wakes up in the morning, I forget it all and just want to snuggle and kiss and love her. I melt! I have never felt such love. It's the hardest job I've ever loved. It's a job filled with a baby that never naps longer than 30 minutes at a time, is constantly eating still, and requires so much of my attention. But man, do I love it. I love it so much.

So, that's what's going on. I know it was just an update on Emmy, but really...she is our whole life right now. I wouldn't have it any other way. 

And pictures because cute: 

As Tall as My Dad

When I was in first grade, we grew sunflowers. We started with a little seed, a plastic cup, some dirt, and the hope of growing something magnificent. My little seed sprouted and started getting bigger and bigger. It was exciting for my little six year old self to witness. I watered it diligently, plopped it on our window sill in the kitchen and eventually my dad suggested that I move it to our garden.

The garden. My dad's garden was magic. I remember countless summers picking through the rows of peas he had planted to gather up the "fatsos" to eat. No pea tasted as sweet as my dad's fatsos.

That sunflower took a little bit of that garden magic and grew, and grew, and grew until it was as tall as my dad! Eventually even taller. To my little eyes, anything that was as tall as my dad was really tall. From his moccasins up to his shiny bald head, my dad always seemed to tower over everything.

Last week, I lost that tower of a man to cancer.

The battle was short, but valiant. Looking through his belongings, hearing stories from my siblings, and simply even seeing what great people my siblings are, I realized something I've always known, but perhaps I see it now in a greater light: my dad was far more than just tall in stature. He stood tall in every aspect of his life.

My dad raised 11 kids, four of whom didn't even share his DNA. But he raised them as if they did. He worked for many years as a carpenter, literally putting a roof over his family's head. I was the smallest of the bunch. His little "Katie Mae".

I have fond memories of him telling me to hop on one of his feet and my brother Jeff on the other and he'd give us "foot rides" up to our bedroom at night. He was strong. He would tuck us in bed and "dribble" our heads like basketballs on our pillow as we giggled and said goodnight.

I remember him coming to every sporting event, every concert, every everything I had going on in my life. In city league soccer, I remember him telling me to dribble up the sideline on a breakaway so that there was only one side I'd have to defend. He would come seek me out after basketball games, giving me advice that at the time I'm sure I didn't want to hear, I just wanted my after-game treat, but looking back realizing that he cared so much for me. He wanted me to succeed in every aspect of my life, and he encouraged that in the quietest, most loving way.

He was a spiritual giant. He may not have gone preaching to everyone he saw, or shout it from every rooftop, but in just talking to him you KNEW he believed. He was steadfast.

The truth is, I could fill this page with stories and words about my dad, but it still wouldn't be enough to truly capture how tall he was. He is one of the greatest men I've ever known, perhaps even THE greatest. He lived his life with so much compassion for others, it was astounding. His family always came first. His heart was so big. His love so deep.

I can only hope that one day I can be as tall as my dad.

Love you, Pops. See you on the other side.

Love, Katie Mae

Perspective

Before I had Emmy, I envisioned rocking my baby to sleep in a clean, dim nursery where she would slowly doze off and then I'd set her in the crib for the night and everything would be peaceful and perfect and blissful.

I'm currently in my messy bedroom, bouncing on a yoga ball with a baby basically swaddled in a straight jacket, binky in her mouth, humming "Give Said the Little Stream" loudly because, well, that's what works. My back hurts. Her eyes are still open, but she's not crying. Eventually she'll drift off, but when? I never know.

●●●

I read a story online today about a woman that tragically lost her newborn son. He was only a few weeks old. It was an accident, maybe one that could have been prevented, but the sadness and guilt and heartache that mother must be feeling? I can't even imagine it. In fact, I try to avoid imagining it because having this baby has made my heart open and raw in ways I never thought possible, and it causes to much sadness to imagine something like that.

So, I sit here bouncing. Staring back at my baby girl with a tear in my eye, feeling so grateful to even have a baby to bounce. I'm going to squeeze her tighter, give her a few extra kisses, and bounce her, and bounce her, and bounce her.

●●●

My back hurts. Her eyes are still open, but she's not crying. Eventually she'll drift off, but when? I never know. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Emmaline Lauren

I figured I should write down Emmaline's birth story SOMEWHERE before I forgot the whole thing entirely. Heaven knows my brain is all over the place these days.

So, here we go! :)

The Beginning

The day before Emmaline was born, I woke up at 4 am with mild contractions. They were bad enough that I couldn't sleep but not bad enough to make me think I needed to head to the hospital any time soon. I took a bath to see if they would subside but they stuck around. They were still about 15-20 minutes apart, so as soon as I would drift off, one would wake me up. I was scheduled to go into the doctor the next day (Emmaline's due date), but decided to schedule one for that day to see what was going on.

Kameron and I both went to the OB appointment where we found out I had dilated to 1 cm! I had assumed I would probably go overdue because there was no sign at my last appointment of a baby coming other than my large belly and the constant kicks to my ribs. But then I hear my doctor say, "You'll probably have a baby in the next day or two." WHAT? So exciting and scary at the same time. He said to watch my contractions and go in if they get closer together and stronger.

And closer and stronger they became. Over the course of that day they started to get around 6-7 minutes apart and very painful. Like, stop what I'm doing for 30-60 seconds while it passed painful. I didn't want to be THAT girl that goes to the hospital and gets sent home, so we waited until it was finally too unbearable. It was 2:00 a.m.

The Middle

On the drive to the hospital, I didn't have ONE contraction. I thought, of course. I'm going to be THAT girl. But we kept driving anyway. They brought us into an exam room and check to see how I had progressed. I was now at 3 1/2 cm! They said to wait an hour, walk around the hospital, and if I progressed a full centimeter in that hour they could admit me. So, Kameron and I took a stroll around the quiet, empty hospital for an hour, with me stopping every 5-ish minutes to breath through a contraction.

After that hour, the nurse checked me and I had progressed from 3 1/2 to 4...so not a full centimeter. Boo! She said she would talk to the doctor to see if he would still admit us. Luckily, he said we were good to go and we were going to have a baby! And on her exact due date! Hooray!!

They took us to a delivery room, got me all hooked up to the monitors, brought me the much anticipated flavored ice chips I heard about, and we got set up for the night. Not too long after we got settled, the nurse said the anesthesiologist was in the next room over doing an epidural and could come right over after if I wanted. She said it was probably a good idea because he might not be readily available when I decided I really wanted it. So I said yes (I don't like pain) and he came and gave me the goods. I'm glad I got it so early because the doctor ended up having to break my water and give me a little pitocin to speed things along after I stalled at about 5 cm. From what I heard, those pitocin contractions HURT, but I didn't feel a thing. I was able to get a little sleep between checks. (PS it's a super weird thing to not feel your legs.)

The Baby

At around 9:30 a.m. Kameron woke up and said he was going to head across the street to Chik fil A for breakfast (while I ate ice chips...). I was only at about a 6-7 at that time. I joked to Kam that he should hurry in case I progressed. Well, I progressed. About 30 minutes later, the nurse checked me and I was complete! Luckily Kameron came in not too long after and we (did I say we?! I mean I) started the pushing. Let me tell you, that is not a fun thing to do when you are running on VERY little sleep. I was soo physically exhausted. I was having a hard time figuring out the correct way to push because, well, I couldn't feel my bottom half. Eventually I opted to use a mirror. Never, ever, EVER did I think I would watch the birth, but it was incredible! Gross, but incredible. I was able to push more productively for some reason and things started moving along.

Emmy's heart rate would drop every push, and wouldn't come back up as quickly as they would like so we would have to take breaks to give her a rest. (And ME a rest. I gladly took it.) I was on oxygen to help her heart rate and found that it gave me a little more energy to push as well. It was empowering! I felt like a (very tired) rockstar after every push.

Eventually, the doctor came in, and it happened to by my own OB on call! He would be the one to deliver my baby and I was super happy about that because I had gotten comfortable with him over my pregnancy. He said I was getting really close, but had to go check on another patient. Apparently I was closer than he thought, because the very next push, Emmaline decided it was time to be born.

The thing is, the nurse needs the doctor there in order to deliver. When she noticed that baby was coming OUT, she said, "Okay..I'm going to ask you to stop pushing!!" Uh, yeah, not happening. She was paging my doctor and looking scared and frantic, and I'm pretty sure I was screaming and apologizing and trying not to push, but my body did what it was meant to do and pushed that baby right on out. The nurse caught her and put that perfect little girl on my chest. My doctor came running in about 30 seconds later. :) Emmaline Lauren Kasparian was born on September 30th at 12:16 p.m. She was 7 lbs 14 oz and 21 inches long. Practically perfect in every way.

It's hard to describe how I felt when I held Emmy for the first time. I was crying, I was overjoyed, I was exhausted, and so in love with this little baby I just met for the first time. She had Kameron's nose, it was the first thing I noticed. She had big eyes that were bright and open. She looked right at me and Kameron kissed my forehead with tears in his eyes. Our little family had officially started.

It was strange. I couldn't believe she was mine but at the same time I felt like I had always known her. In an instant I became a mom. I would need to take care of this tiny little bundle. She would depend on ME. I would eventually take her to her first day of Kindergarten (and probably cry). I would hear about her first crush. I would buy her first bra. I would send her on her first date. I would see her get dolled up for prom. I would watch her find a man that hopefully treats her the way her father treats me and get married. And someday she would have a little baby of her own and be feeling all the emotions I was feeling at that exact moment.

But I decided to slow down, get some sleep, smell that sweet little newborn head and thank my Father in Heaven for this daughter of mine. The rest could wait.

On Motherhood

Ah, Motherhood.

The last seven weeks have been...well, I'm not sure there is enough room on this blog for all the adjectives I would need to describe the last seven weeks! But I'll try to somehow get all my thoughts down in one coherent post.

At church this past week, I walked past an older woman in my ward, Emmaline sleeping in my arms. She said, "Isn't it just the most fun you've ever had in your life?" And I hesitated. I'm not quite sure "fun" is the word I would choose. It's not fun to wake up and groggily figure out which blasted snap goes where on a sleeper after a diaper change at 3 o'clock in the morning. It's not fun to constantly be wiping some bodily fluid off of, well, everything all the time. It's not fun to have tears running down your face, screaming baby in your arms, with no idea how to make her stop crying. But then all of the sudden, almost out of nowhere, that little baby eventually will smile at you. REALLY smile. And you think your heart might burst. And you start to understand why people keep having kids. Because, man, those first few weeks are brutal, but as soon as you see that smile, you start to have a little fun.

I think the difficulty of having a newborn is something that doesn't get talked about a lot. Partly because it fades so quickly and we forget, but also because I think new moms don't want to admit they struggle. Everyone talks about how much they love being a mom, and you want to feel like you're doing everything right and you may think that means you shouldn't struggle. That you're supposed to have it all figured out because motherhood is natural, right? Well, it. is. HARD. There are days where I thought I wasn't cut out to be a mom. Some days where I cried all day. Some days where I wondered what I got myself into. But at the end of every one of those days, I would look at my sleeping daughter and feel such overwhelming love for her. And that would get me to the next day. And then every day progressively got better.

Motherhood is one of those things that you just kind of have to experience in order to really understand it. There are hundreds of books, websites, forums, and other experienced moms that can try to help you before you call yourself "Mom", but the true education comes from diving head first into the sleepless nights, the stacks of diapers, the spit up, and the fussiness that doesn't seem to stop no matter what you try. I have never cried more, bounced more, or slept less than in the past seven weeks.

But guess what?

I also haven't LOVED more. 

This little person who can't do anything for herself has brought me the greatest love I've ever known. From the feather-soft hair on her head to the teeny tiny pinky toes on her feet, she is my greatest joy. I would do anything to keep her safe and happy. I love her little grunts when she's waking up (even at 3:00 a.m) and the way she reaches her arms waaayyy above her head when she stretches. I love how she's starting to really experience what's around her. Her little head swivels back and forth to take in all the new sights. I love how she gears up for a huge sneeze. I love that she is learning to smile at us and love even more that she sometimes smiles at the wall. I love that she loves to stand up on her little legs when we hold her. I love that she has her dad's nose and her mom's distaste for being woken up.

I have never loved Kameron more. He is an amazing daddy who loves his daughter. Sometimes in the middle of the night if she's screaming during a diaper change, he will come in and hold her tiny hands to calm her down. When we were having issues with nursing in the beginning, he would pop one eye open in the middle of the night and drowsily give us words of encouragement. I love his patience. I love the smile on his face when he looks at his little girl. I love the way "daddy" looks on him.

I love my little family with everything I've got. I am so, SO blessed to have this little girl and this amazing man in my life. No, motherhood isn't easy. But, boy, is it worth it.