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?