And the First Broken Bone Goes To . . .

Noah. Two weeks ago he was learning to jump, and he was really excited about it. All day long he'd say, "I jumping mommy, I jumping!" That evening he was jumping on the couch, and unfortunately off the couch as well, because suddenly I heard him land on the ground and start crying, and when I looked up his right foot was awkwardly off to the side. Because he was beside himself every time we moved him, Gary took him to the urgent care that night. The x-ray didn't show a break, but they put a splint on him to stabilize the injury and told us to follow up with our doctor. Even though he was still upset about his "owies," when I pulled out the camera he was willing to cheese it up. Here are two pictures of him in his baby splint.

The doctor told us if he wasn't walking in a week, to come back, and in the mean time to take off the splint and see if he'd start moving on his own. She thought that would be the right thing to do because she could twist his ankle all around and it didn't really bother him. So, a week later he still wasn't walking - he still found lots of ways to get into everything, but not by walking. Gary took him in again, and the x-ray once again showed nothing. The doctor said he was "perplexing" and ordered an x-ray of his hip, and said that if he wasn't walking in another week, we'd have to go to a specialist at Primary Children's. Great . . .

We went to my parents' house for Thanksgiving, and during that time he awkwardly fell on the foot twice, and was a basket case each time. So sad, because he was really trying to be brave, but would whimper, "Foot, my foot, owies," every time he'd try to put weight on in. My heart nearly broke this morning when he hurt it again and was trying so hard to let me rock him to sleep, but couldn't. He looked up at me with his big brown eyes and sniffled, "Owie, mommy, owie," like he really wanted me to take away the pain.

So, my mom called my dad (who is a doctor), who happened to be at the hospital, and said the x-ray tech was there and if we ran up there quickly we could get another x-ray. We figured it was worth a try, so we went. Poor kid was so used to the x-ray equipment he was happy to be there. (The first time he screamed and fought.) Turns out, his leg (tibia) is broken, about an inch above his ankle. No wonder he's okay when you mess with his foot but not okay if you grab his ankles to change his diaper! My dad said that he can see why it didn't show up a few days ago. I guess fractures like that don't show up until they start to heal. So, he got this sweet blue cast (Dad was thinking "Go Cougars" when he picked it). Noah wanted the cast off when it first got finished, but he was happy when it was being put on, and it supposedly makes it feel a whole lot better. We got him all casted up just in time to go to church for his first day of nursery, which he loved regardless of his cast.

Of course no one ever wants their child to break a bone, but Gary and I were so relieved to find out what's wrong and that there is an easy solution, that we were happy about the cast. Poor, poor baby . . . two weeks with a broken leg before the cast. We did our best, though, and now there's only 3 weeks until he's good as new! On the way home in the car Noah kept saying, "I jumping couch, owie. Jumping couch, fall down, owie," over and over again . . . seems like the whole thing has made an impression, so probably we'll have a really calm household after this.

Yeah, ha, ha, but that's okay. Yes, we have two kids that don't walk now, and yes, one of them is very heavy, but hey, nothing too bad, we can't complain. Although as a post note it is funny to think that the day Noah broke his leg was my most on the ball day since Andrew was born. I had the house decently clean, dinner ready the second Gary got home, and family home evening all planned out. I was getting back in to the swing of things, but then FHE turned into urgent care for Noah and Gary, while Josh and I drank hot chocolate and watched Star Wars. Had to make up for the fact Noah got to go somewhere and he didn't. Then with Noah injured, things went back to nuts. That's okay, though, I may have been in danger of getting bored, and it isn't about me, it about Noah, and his big accomplishment as the first one to break a bone. He might think that makes him cool much later in life.

Check Out the "Soccer Guy"

I'm not allowed to write above Josh's picture for some reason, but I think it's fitting. The first thing you've gotta see is his proud little face and cute little body in his huge soccer uniform. Josh played soccer for the first time this fall, and if you know Josh I don't need to say what he thought about it. If you don't know him, I should tell you that ever since we signed him up in the spring he started talking about when he would get to play soccer in August. And I don't have enough fingers and toes to count the amount of times he asked me, "Is it time for soccer now?" on his first day of practice.

Of course he's little, but that's why I like him playing now. They just play 3 on 3, no goalie, nobody keeps score (okay, Gary does, but supposedly no one does), and the kids just have a blast getting some exercise and feeling like they're "soccer guys." It's definitely a comedy of errors - most of the game is spent trying to get the kids to realize which goal is theirs, but it's cute.

Josh actually liked practice as much or more as the games, since in his words, "Soccer practice is for playing with a lot of balls, and soccer games are for playing with one ball." He actually did pretty well for himself, you can tell when he's out there he's pretty determined to get the ball. He usually got a couple of goals each time, sometimes a few on the other team's goal as well. He also had games where he'd just jog around and do somersaults when he got a chance, and that was fine, too. I always asked him if he was having fun, and he always said yes, so I say success. Here's a picture of him right before a kickoff.

It turned out another boy on his team has the same hair as him, which was cute to see on the field. Josh happens to be the one in front in this picture. (Notice the teamwork? Yeah, there was none. We'll work on it.)

I love this picture because it's so typical of the games. Notice where all the kids are looking and what they are doing . . . then notice where the ball is.

Our next door neighbor was on the team, too, so I tried to get a picture on the last day. Couldn't get them all to look, but at least nobody has their finger in their nose in this one.

The last game was on Halloween, and it was the perfect way to get out of the house after Andrew was born. Josh finished up the season by scoring 3 rather impressive (from my perspective) goals. He also scored one on the other team's goal. He says he scored 4 goals, but as far as net goals he only got 2. So how much credit should we give him? Perplexing problem, but the moral of the story is we all had fun. (Heaven help me if there should ever be a different moral regarding my kids in sports . . .)

It Was a Little Scary, But the Kids Were Cute

. . . and they also got a lot of candy, so Halloween was a success. The day actually started out great, with Josh finishing off his soccer season in a blaze of glory (more later). Then the kids went with Gary to buy a few pumpkins. Josh wanted to go to the pumpkin patch, but sadly, children with new baby brothers do not get to go to the pumpkin patch before the pumpkins are gone. Happily, though, 3 year olds don't mind if there are only tiny pumpkins left to buy, and he and Noah were thrilled with their purchases. They got to scoop out the pumpkins on the back porch with their daddy, which was extra awesome, and then Gary showed off his carving skills. Josh told me later that his pumpkin was goofy and Noah's was scary.

Dinner time is when Halloween got scary. Noah wouldn't eat a thing on his tray, which is highly unusual for Noah (he is usually a very hungry man). I started getting the kids ready to go trick-or-treating, and put Noah in his under-costume-sweatsuit. I was about to put on his costume when suddenly he started throwing up. All over the place. Sad, and gross, but it was in the kitchen so we cleaned it up, and continued getting ready. Even though Noah wasn't feeling the best (notice the blanket in the picture), he wanted to go. Noah was a dinosaur, and Josh was a super hero (Super Josh to be exact, his choosing). Here you can see how excited Josh was.And here you can see the J on his belt. The J belt was something he made mandatory for his costume. He also had a giant J on the back of his cape. (Thanks, mom!!)

Even though they got out a lot later than expected, they had fun, and Noah was fine. So we took this picture when they came home, notice the finished jack-o-lantern.

Noah looked so flippin' cute in his costume I had to get another picture. So I sat down on the stairs (inside the house), set my camera sights on him, and started saying, "Say cheese, Noah, come on, say cheese!" But he would only make a sullen face. So I kept trying, and all of the sudden through my camera I saw him start throwing up again - on me. And the stairs, and his costume . . . again and again. Poor boy! He was really sad, I mean, he must have been so miserable.

So we had more to clean up, and Josh to put to bed, and all the while Andrew would scream his head off if he wasn't being held. He wouldn't sleep, or lie down, or anything. Gary and I stayed up until around 2 in the morning with one child periodically throwing up and another screaming if not nursing. Woo-hoo, happy Halloween . . . Josh seemed to enjoy his day though, I hope so anyway.

In the midst of it all I realized I should quickly snap a photo of Andrew in his Halloween onesie. It was very cute. He spent most of the day in a pumpkin onesie (wish I'd taken a picture), but that one was dirtied so he switched to a sassier costume.

It says, "This is my costume."

How We Became Out-Numbered and Other Answers

As my dear sister Sarah so graciously posted when she hacked into my blog, three weeks ago our sweet little Andrew Mark was born, making us a family of five. That's right, little people are now more than big people. This has happened to many, many before us, but Gary and I are still having a lot of, "Wow, look at all these guys," moments. I've also had a lot of moments where I feel like, "This child really belongs with us," and those are the times that make all the rest of whatever feel unimportant.

No, he doesn't sleep through the night or demand zero attention or any new-parent-fantasy like that, but he is such a sweet little guy. I know I already used that word, but my vocabulary is not meeting the feelings in my heart for my baby. He has this way about him, or look to his little face, or something, that when he cries I feel bad for him needing food or love or having tummy pains. It's so neat to see how each child's personality is unique, even though you'd think Andrew would be too young to have one.

Since I didn't have a free second to report anything earlier, I thought I'd go marathon-style and answer some questions I've been getting. I figure I'll be interested in the answers some day, at least.

How are you feeling?

Most common question, and I love you for caring. Here's the upside to answering questions when the baby is 3 weeks old. I can say I'm feeling pretty good and be honest about it. Still unbelievably exhausted, but that comes with the whole new baby package. When I was going through all of the bad aches, pains, and yuckiness I couldn't understand why anyone would repeatedly put themselves through such things, but I'm already thinking it wasn't so bad. (Note to self: yes it was.)

Emotionally I've been everywhere from, "Am I allowed to be this happy?" right after he was born to, "Please, please help me get through this phase," when he was five days old. Now we're trying to take as many chances as we can to enjoy his precious newness, and realize there should come a day when going from sleeping to awake doesn't hurt.

How about a belly pic?

Yep, this question is an old one. Wasn't planning on actually honoring this request, but I just found this one my sister took and I was pretty amazed at the lengths to which this baby stuck out. Which is funny because I lived with it. Explanation here is that right before Andrew was born I had a pretty significant birthday of my own, and since it was such a milestone, of course my family had to honor it by taking me to Chuck E. Cheese. I don't think I was doing well in this particular game . . . How about pictures of the baby?

Of course! Here's one of Andrew with his daddy at four days old. (I'm pretty sure that's a yawn.)

Even though he's sticking out his tongue, I thought this picture of Andrew with my sister Hannah was a good closer-up picture of his face.

I give myself a pass for having just had a baby in this photo, and post it because I love how chubby he looked when he was very first born. It was so cute. I'm pretty sure this is even before they cleaned him up.

Here's his first bath in the hospital. I thought this was a pretty good shot of the chubs. Right after they wheeled me into recovery he started sucking on his hand. In his first couple hours of life he sucked on his hand and blanket almost constantly. Or tried.

Proud big brother Joshua. At first he didn't know how to react to the whole thing, but once he was told the baby didn't have any teeth, he was fascinated and had to investigate.

Noah immediately wanted to kiss the baby. So he did, repeatedly. I love it.

How are your other boys dealing with the new baby?

They really love the baby. Josh is so proud of being able to hold him and anytime he can get Andrew to stop crying you'd think he just won a trophy by the look on his face. Noah just loves kissing and toes. However, they are struggling with family changes. Noah needs a lot of extra "huggies," and Josh for a while has seemed bent on challenging every rule we've ever had around here. Everyone needs more attention and consistency . . . we'll get there, it's already improving.

How'd you decide on the name?

Actually, I've liked the name Andrew ever since I was student teaching almost six years ago. There was the cutest little Andrew in my class, and I planned on naming my child that right then and there. Gary has always liked the name as well, and we discussed it as an option for Josh, but it never seemed right until now. Yes, Gary has a brother with a name that is really close, but he's a good guy for Andrew to look up to, and since the names aren't exact we can easily clarify who we're talking about. Which might be necessary since it turns out they share a birthday . . . We came upon the middle name, Mark, easily because it's my dad's name. Another great guy for Andrew to look up to.

How is it with three?

All three of our boys are awesome, so eventually having three will be great. Right now, honestly, it's pretty much insanity and chaos. I'm usually holding more than one child, or trying to, and pretty often at least one, and many times more than one, of them are crying. Pretty much just meeting everyone's basic needs is a full-time job. It's getting better, though.

How was your delivery?(Label provided so you can stop now if you don't want to know.)

Short answer: Healthy baby, healthy mommy, no complications, it was great.

The story: I had been thinking this baby was going to come for a couple of weeks. I'd been having contractions since 33 weeks, and some pretty real ones since 36. The baby was very low (it felt like it, and the doctor confirmed it was so), and felt very, very heavy (which we know now because he was). I didn't want to be a complainer, but I had lots of signs of impending childbirth that had never happened to me in the past without a baby coming within 24 hours. Everyone remarks about the size of the baby, saying it must have been a hard delivery, and while of course delivery was no picnic, it's not so bad compared to carrying that much weight around. But that's what I get for marrying a man who was ten pounds at birth, and since I do not regret that decision and I quite like my babies, it's all good in the end.

The day Andrew was born started out with a doctor's appointment. Gary watched Noah during it, then I left him in Salt Lake without a car, so he could ride the bus home. He had been driving to work every day up to that point, just in case, but I was determined to stop being a pathetic pregnant woman and stick it out happily. So, I went home, fed the boys lunch, and put dinner in a crock-pot, all the while barely being able to walk because of the incredible pressure I was feeling. As I was talking to my mom on the phone about said pressure, my water broke. It was funny to me, even though something big was happening I still had to do regular stuff like carry Noah to the sink to wash him off, and try to convince Josh of the importance of putting on pants quickly.

A friend of mine saved the day by volunteering to watch my kids and drive me to the hospital. I had thought I'd have to find two people without sick kids that day, which would have been rough, so thank you, Kami! Gary had a co-worker drive him to the hospital, so we met there. After confirming that my water had, in fact, broken, I was left alone for at least 1 and a half hours. I wasn't contracting that regularly and there was apparently a lot going on at the hospital that day . . . It was okay, though, Gary and I chatted, and right when I was starting to feel major pain and feelings of neglect someone came in. Thank you! I was dilated to a 6, so the nurse called for the epidural.

Usually the epidural is the end of the drama for me, but this time my chest started to feel tingly and I felt like my head was in a tunnel. I almost passed out, so they turned off the epidural and called for the anesthesiologist. At one point I was an 8, my epidural was off, and I was shaking uncontrollably, supposedly due to going complete so fast. There may have been tears then, but at least I had hugs from Gary, whose calmness saved me as it does so often. Although the shaking never really stopped, it was determined that my problems were not from the epidural (probably actually due to the fact I was very sick the day before and a little dehydrated), and the lovely numbing medicine was turned back on right in the nick of over-nine-pound-delivery-time. And then I had a baby - a real person, all chubby and crying. Gary and I were so excited, we laughed and kissed the baby, and enjoyed one of the very rare times in Andrew's life when it was just us and him. When he first came out he was so big and clean the nurses thought he was overdue. Doctors and nurses alike very much doubt his actual due date was six days later.

As I finish this off, it's funny to read it and note the emotional roller coaster. From the please-let-this-be-over moments of labor, to the elation of the brand new baby, to the yuckiness of postpartum to the precious moments with a snugly baby, it's kinda crazy. Really up and down. Am I a cheesebucket if I say I'm just grateful for the ride? Do these tears mean I'm too hormonal these days?

He's here!

Andrew Mark
27 October
9 lbs 5 oz
19.5 inches