December

Wow! December was a whirlwind of Christmas activities, all while trying to enjoy a new baby. It was crazy, but I will try to share a few pictures so that although I can't remember much of it, there is some sort of proof that this December did actually happen.

There were all the school Christmas programs.  Mariah made the cutest little red-nosed reindeer I've ever seen when her class performed a reindeer song at the December awards meeting.

Then she switched for "cute" to "beautiful" for the Kindergarten Christmas program.

Mylie got to perform all her favorite songs from FROZEN in her Christmas program. So cute!

And Connor got to rap "Ice, Ice, Baby" in his Christmas program. Why? Their music teacher does an amazing job of incorporating all the kids' ideas into their play each year, with the 5th graders all having a costume and an individual part. It was a super fun show, and he did a great job!

Speaking of Connor being super cool, he finally got his mullet to perfection. And then we cut it the end of the month. But we were sure to get some great pictures first.

With the older kids all busy with school and activities, Brady and Lewis got to spend a lot of time getting to know each other. I think they're going to be pretty good buddies. Oh, and Brady got a haircut.

Mylie, Mariah, and their cousins Hannah and Sarah were finally able to take the money they had been earning to the D.I. to buy clothes to donate to an orphanage in Bulgaria.  They call themselves the G.C.C. (Girls Care Club) and they worked really hard on this project. I was so proud of them, and the checkout ladies even teared up a bit as they scanned over 30 pairs of pants, several jackets and 6 pairs of shoes. Their aunt Haley is going to hand-deliver their purchases to the orphanage when she goes to pick up her son, hopefully soon.

Santa came to our house--ya, right to our house! The kids were super surprised! Lewis even got to sit on his lap. And this picture shows Brady's feeling about Santa so perfectly.

Mylie turned 9. Halfway to 18 already! What? Pathetic that this is the only photo we took. I think we got some video, though.

 We did lots of fun crafty stuff. I didn't take pictures of it all, but I did capture a couple favorites. One day we had cousins over for some sugar cookie painting. The kids loved it, even Brady stayed focused on it for a long time.

 We also were able to go to Cokeville the week after Christmas for a gingerbread house party.  It is a tradition in my family to do real gingerbread houses, and my Grannie was visiting from Alaska, so we just had to do them this year! My sister, Tami, and her kids came, as well as a couple of my cousins with their kids. We had such a good time! The kids all loved it, but so did I. This is one craft that I always enjoy. I can't quite figure out why I don't ever want to try cake decorating, but I LOVE to do gingerbread houses.

Each time Brady would put a piece of candy on, he would say, "Woo-hoo! I did it!"

My Masterpiece

Oh, how I love this lady!  She is so amazing! I am glad that I was able to see her several times during her visit. She even made it over to my house TWICE! Love this picture of her and Lewis.

Christmas Eve, we went to Cokeville for my Grandma Teichert's Christmas party. Each kid performed a talent, and my grandma, who is 95 years old, even played a song on the piano. The kids all dressed Christmas-y for the occasion, even Lewis.

And finally, December wouldn't be complete without our annual trip to SLC for some family fun!  This year, we went to a new place, the Classic Fun Center. We had an AMAZING time there, and will probably go again.

And then, of course, dinner at Tucanos. Brady loves meat and was so excited when the first meat server came around and gave him some meat on his plate. When he saw the next server coming, he yelled out, "More meat!" just as excitedly as a kid could yell it. I thought they should hire him to do an ad for them.  We sure love Tucanos.

November

The beginning of November was all about volleyball. Our team took 2nd at both Regionals and State this year.  We had a fabulous team and such a great year. I LOVED coaching these girls and was sad to see it end.

At state tournament, the girls put together a baby shower for me. Now, nobody needs a baby shower for their 5th baby, but it was lots of fun!

One of my favorite things about this group of seniors was the way they showed so much gratitude for the coaches. Most kids--even really good kids--don't often think to thank people. These girls did, and it felt so nice to feel appreciated for all the time I have invested in them.

Mariah had her birthday--the big 6! She is such a sweet girl and I love her to pieces!

We sold our red van (so sad, I loved that van) and bought a much newer van with far fewer miles. I met my goal of paying cash for it, which felt so satisfying.  Now hopefully it will last us a long time--long enough for me to have the cash ready next time we need a new one.

Connor and Mylie participated in the "Turkey Trot," a one-mile run at their school. This is how Connor felt about it.

Mylie was a little happier, although she tasted that bloody throat feeling for the first time ever.  She took 4th for 3rd grade girls and ran her mile in 8:27.  She won a pie for her efforts.

And of course, the BIG NEWS of November, was Lewis joining our family! I already recorded all the details of his birth in another post, but here are some pics of his first couple weeks of life.  He is so loved.

 So TINY 

 One Week Old

Bad, blurry photo, but I love this cute onesie.

When Lewis was just two days old, we went to a Micheli Reunion at a gigantic, super fun house by Bear Lake. I took lots of video, but somehow only one picture?!? We are planning to go back there for New Year's Eve next year, so I will take more pics then (hopefully).

And finally, we spent Thanksgiving in Cokeville, where Michelle was kind enough to take a picture of these four cuties! So fun to have so many cousins so close in age, and trying to take a pic of all four of them was great entertainment! Lewis missed it all in his coma-like sleep.

Pumpkin Patch and Halloween

There was a local family that did a pumpkin patch this year. Connor was too old and cool to go, but the rest of us visited one beautiful day and had a great time!

Mylie and I were gone to regional volleyball on Halloween, but between Tony and I, we were still able to get pics of the kids in their costumes. And although we weren't all together on Halloween, we still celebrated a little with a special spooky dinner and pumpkin carving one night.

September

September, of course, was filled with volleyball--LOTS of volleyball! Mylie came with me everywhere--every practice, every game and tournament. She is falling in love with this game and loves for me to practice with her. We spent a lot of time passing back and forth. Our record is 198 passes in a row without the ball dropping.  She also loves working on her jump serve and 4-step approach.

Connor had a birthday! Eleven years old--so hard to believe.  Connor also spent a lot of time playing football. He played running back and linebacker and loved it!

We harvested the garden and had a wonderful harvest. We got lots of corn, which was surprising because we had a hard frost the first weekend in September. I was sure that all the corn was lost, but a couple days later, I went out and decided to peel back the husk on one ear. Surprise! The corn was fully mature and there was a LOT of it. It was delicious!

Mariah lost her first tooth and was pretty excited about that.  She also decided that going to school was pretty great. Although she gets tired sometimes, she loves Kindergarten and her teacher, Mrs. Argyle.

Tony and Brady ranched. Brady truly believes that he works on the ranch and everything he does is just as important as what Dad is doing. It is so neat that they get to do this together.

Finding the Blessing

As I sat there feeding my baby, for what I figured to be about the 450th time already in his young life, give or take a few feedings (middle-of-the-night math can be difficult), I thought back over the past eight weeks.  As the memories and feelings flooded over me, I knew I needed to write.  I needed to put words to the feelings and give them a place where they can be permanent before they find their way into that locked portion of my brain, the place that holds those little day-to-day memories, things I think I'll remember but then can never find again. Before these memories join the memory of Connor learning to walk, Mariah's first words, or the great idea I got in Sunday School just last week, but now can't remember.

I started out tired. The on-again-off-again two day labor, combined with his 4am birth robbed me of a lot of sleep. At first, though, I didn't notice it much. The excitement of having him here kept me going. The first week was full of time with family.  We headed to a Micheli family reunion when Lewis was two days old, then to Cokeville for Thanksgiving the very next week. Lewis was so new and tiny, and I knew it wouldn't last long. I held him a lot and loved how his body molded to mine in the way that only a newborn baby can. I loved nestling his little head into my neck and then bending my head forward and inhaling deep, taking in that newborn baby smell.

The first crying came when my milk came in. I don't know how it is for other mothers, but for me, this is fairly traumatic. For some reason, my body doesn't register the amount of milk my baby actually needs, and produces enough for me to start feeding quadruplets! The pain was incredible, and I sank into a bath in the reunion guest house in the middle of the night and cried.  More loss of sleep.

For about ten days, I dreaded feeding time. This was my fifth baby, so I knew things would get better, but my nipples were horribly cracked and every one of Lewis's amateur attempts at latching on to feed was met with my gritted teeth and tense body, bracing myself for the pain. More tears. Tears because it hurt, but also the first tears of guilt.

We made it home from Thanksgiving, and entered "real life." I now had to cook, clean, and take care of the kids without all the help of family every minute. And it wasn't just regular real life, it was also December. Time to put up the decorations, go to the kids' Christmas programs, and do all the other Christmas things that "needed" to get done.  By the second week of December, I needed a break. It worked out perfectly that Tony needed to deliver some bulls across the state, and Lewis and I were able to join him for an overnight getaway. I was going to just sit in the truck and not worry about a thing. My nipples were nearly healed by now, and physically I was starting to feel a lot better.  We got a hotel with a hot tub and also went out to dinner. But I didn't feel well. I was exhausted, fevered, and scared to death because of the hot pain in my right breast. Mastitis. No! I was finally feeling better, and now this? I just wanted to feel normal again so I could truly enjoy my baby. And then the guilt again.

The mastitis cleared up within a few days, and I really felt pretty good. Good thing, because there was so much to do! I had four older kids who needed me, and I really wanted to be there for them.  I needed to help them with homework, read with them, play with them, talk to them, and try to find some one-on-one moments with each of them. Oh, and I really wanted this Christmas to be great for them, too! So we forged ahead with all our Christmas traditions--a nightly knock and run, "hay in the manger" activity, family Christmas shopping, delivering goodies to neighbors, nightly reading by the Christmas tree, and a family trip to Salt Lake City.  In addition, I had baking to do, stocking stuffers to buy, and gifts to wrap. Oh, and my family still needed to be fed, laundry never stopped piling up, I had church duties to fulfill, and the house kept getting dirty.  Oh ya, and I had a month-old baby who really wanted to spend his days being either held or fed.

I wanted to enjoy Christmas. Really, I did. But there was a cloud closing in on me. I knew what it was because I had felt it before, when Brady was a baby. It was that dark cloud that made it difficult to see things clearly. The cloud that makes you feel like you're not doing anything well, you're letting everybody down, and that you are inadequate as a mother.  The cloud that leads you to your bed with your back turned to your family, crying because you can't will yourself to get up and do anything for anybody.  Hopefully they'll just think you're taking a nap. And then the guilt that you're feeling that way in the first place presses the cloud down even closer.

At least I knew what it was this time and recognized it for that. I knew I needed to do things to help lift the cloud, but my first few attempts just caused more guilt. Go do something fun with the kids. But there is so much that I'm not getting done at the house. (Guilt.) Get something done at home. Just pick one thing and do it and then you'll feel a lot better.  But now I'm not spending time with my kids. (Guilt.)  And shouldn't you just slow down with everything and enjoy that baby? You haven't done that nearly enough this month. You promised yourself before he was born that you were going to do better than just survive this time. You were going to enjoy this new baby stage. (Major Guilt.)  Why don't you quit crying and be grateful you have a baby? This should bring nothing but joy. There are so many out there who would give anything to have just one child. You have five. What is your problem? (Greatest guilt of all.)

And then near the end of the Christmas break, the cloud lifted a bit. It was a mixture of things, I suppose. Some time with family, a clean house, a little shopping spree, a choice to just buy food and delegate for Lewis's blessing dinner (I don't have to be super mom and make a home-cooked meal for 40, right?) and honestly, probably a hormonal shift of some kind. Let's give those hormones a little credit here. By Sunday night, I was ready to send the kids off to school, get back in our regular schedule, and attack those New Years Resolutions. I should have known better...

Monday night, Lewis was up all night crying.  Tuesday was rough, and Tuesday night, more of the same. Wednesday morning I finally took him into the doctor. My suspicions were confirmed. He had RSV. We came home with him on oxygen and with a supply of breathing treatments to administer every three hours as well as a nasal suction machine to use on him as often as needed. I realized that my to-do list needed to take a back seat until we got this baby well.  I also feared for myself. I didn't want that cloud to come crashing back down on me, just when I was feeling the relief of having it subside.  Then I saw this:

As I read this quote, it sounded right and good at first. And I suppose that in some ways, it is.  But the more I thought on it, the more it bothered me. So, does this mean that blessings won't come until after the battle is over? At the rate I'm going, there will just be something else next week, and probably the week after that. Certainly a loving Heavenly Father doesn't withhold blessings until after the battle. No. He blesses us in some way each and every day. I realized that I needed to find those blessings and be grateful IN my circumstance, even if I don't feel grateful FOR the circumstance.

I thought about this, and it didn't take me long to realize that a huge blessing I have received in the last two months is that I have been able to witness the goodness in others.  When we came home from the reunion, there were good women from our ward that brought meals in to our family. They were busy, I'm sure, but found time to help me. My mother gave me the easy job for Thanksgiving dinner, and all I had to do was bring the juice. She also took Brady for a couple days while I recovered from the birth. One of Tony's sisters offered to watch our kids so we could go to the temple.  My mother-in-law took an entire day out of her schedule to travel to Ogden and watch Lewis while I went to the temple again to witness a friend go through for the first time. One sister-in-law was willing to do Mylie's hair for her Christmas program because I couldn't work that into my schedule, and another was understanding when I cancelled plans on her because I was feeling overwhelmed.  Many have offered to take my kids so I can get some rest.  And many have showed so much concern in the past week for Lewis's health and my well-being.

My love for my husband has grown as he has been my rock. He is willing to do anything for me. He has taken over all 2-year-old night waking, breakfast making most days, and has vacuumed more than he ever wanted to, I'm sure. He can sense when I'm becoming overwhelmed and he quietly steps in and does something to lighten the load. He is there for me when I cry and always reassures me that I'm being a great mother.

Connor has helped me with so many little things, like going out in the cold to get potatoes from out outdoor storage.  I've noticed him not complaining when I ask him to clean his room or help Brady with things.  Mylie is Lewis's second mother. She has helped so much with him, especially when I am busy making dinner or doing other things. One Sunday morning, she even got him up when he cried, changed his diaper, dressed him in his church clothes, and held him until he was hungry while I slept in.  Mariah cleaned our bathrooms for the entire month of December and did a fabulous job of it, too! What a load off of me to not worry about that chore. And Brady did what he does best--he made me smile. Every day.

Above all, my Heavenly Father has been there for me every step of the way. He has answered my prayers, given me peace, increased my strength, and sent me little messages of love.  One came at the most perfect time, and in an unexpected way as I found an article online that I felt had been written just for me. It just "happened" to be in my FB news feed on the day I needed its message the most.  (http://www.deseretnews.com/article/765602104/Dear-sweet-mom-who-feels-like-shes-failing.html)

That's what I needed to record. Before I forget. I needed to record many of the thoughts and feelings I have had over the past couple months. But more than that, I needed to record what I learned. I seem to learn lessons, and then have to relearn them over and over.  I want to do better. So the lesson is this: While I don't know what tomorrow will bring, I have learned that no matter what, there will be a blessing. I just need to find it.

A Brother's Love

Growing up, one of my favorite Christmas traditions was to be a "secret friend" to someone. For the twelve days before Christmas, I would leave something small on their doorstep each night, knock, and run. During those middle school and high school years, when I thought the entire world revolved around me, it was nice to think of someone else and truly try to make their Christmas a little more exciting. It was fun to think about them anticipating what I would bring next, and not having any idea who their "secret friend" was. It was also a fabulous adrenaline rush each night as I made my getaway.

One year, I believe I was sixteen, on the night of December 13th (the night to begin the knock and run tradition each year) there was a knock on our door. One of my siblings answered it, and said, "Taffy, there's something here for you." I went to see and was surprised and excited to find a small gift with a note from my very own secret friend.  Although I had done this tradition for others for a few years, and was currently doing it for a friend, I never imagined somebody would do it for me. I knew right away that this was going to be such a great Christmas!

I was always the kind of kid that couldn't help but snoop around near Christmas, trying to find my mom's hiding places. I ruined more than one Christmas for myself because of this impatience. So it was no surprise that I just HAD to find out who my secret friend was.  I had a couple guesses, but I wanted to find out for sure.  So every evening after basketball practice, I would sit in the living room and wait, ready to jump up to the door as soon as I heard the knock. I would wait and wait, and finally, when I had left the room to help my mom with something or go to the bathroom, the knock would come. By the time I made it to the door, I was too late. This became very frustrating after a few nights, and I commented to several family members that it felt like my secret friend must be watching my every move somehow.

Christmas Eve finally came, the night for my secret friend to leave the final gift. I was super determined to not let them get away this time.  They had made my Christmas so exciting and special that year, and I just had to know who it was so I could thank them.  When that familiar knock came, I jumped up to the door.  I was actually in the room this time!  When I opened the door, my 10-year-old brother was standing on the step with a gift in his hands and a grin on his face. At first, I thought it was some kind of joke. And then it registered. My secret friend really had been watching my every move.  He really did know the moment that I left the room, because he had been there with me. It was my brother all along! Of course, my family was all in on the secret and had had so much fun helping him come up with gifts and not get caught by someone who was very determined to do so.

As I looked at him with that big smile on his face, I was overwhelmed with the realization of how much he loved me, even though I wasn't very deserving. He may have been a pesky little brother at times, but I had not treated him with much kindness. I had been bossy, condescending, and sometimes just plain mean to him. And he loved me anyway.

In the days and years that passed after this favorite Christmas of mine, I have often reflected on this experience and on the love of a brother for me. But as I have pondered on it, I realize that in that moment on the front porch that night I felt a love even greater.  The love of another brother of mine.  He loved me so much that He suffered for my sins--for my bossy, condescending, and sometimes just plain mean behaviors. I felt the true spirit of Christmas, the whole point of it all.  His birth would mean nothing if it wasn't for His great love for each of us--a love that led our brother to take all our pain, all our sorrow, and all our sins on himself, and then die and rise again, granting us all, no matter how undeserving, the greatest gifts we could ever receive.

Lewis's Birth Story

It's already been nearly three weeks since Lewis joined our family, and I feel like I should document his arrival before I forget most of the details. It's amazing how that happens. You think that you could never forget a monumental occasion like the birth of a child. And you don't ever completely forget it, but it's more of a general memory, or a small detail or two, that you remember. The rest is gone. At least that's how it is for me. So I'm going to write it down now, while I still remember well.

Brady's birth was my first unmedicated labor and delivery.  It was an experience I had always wanted to have, and after doing it that way with Brady, I knew I would do it again with my next baby.  I followed the same methods to prepare for this labor as I did with Brady's, but I didn't spend as much time.  I felt a little more confident this time around, and I was also very busy with volleyball and had a harder time finding the time to work on my relaxation and visualization. In the end, I wish I would have felt a little more prepared.

People always want to know how long your labor was. For this one, it's so hard to say. I'm not really sure when "labor" officially began. My first contractions that I felt were the type that would fall into a regular rhythm and bring my son to me began on Monday afternoon around 2pm.  All that afternoon and evening, I'd have a couple good contractions, maybe 15 minutes apart or so, and then nothing for an hour. Then another one. This continued through the night as well. I woke up with contractions a few times, but then went back to sleep, and would sleep an hour or more before I had another one.

Tuesday morning, I had a doctor's appointment.  Everything looked good with the baby, and I was dilated four centimeters, but I still wasn't having regular contractions, so I went back home.  This sporadic contraction pattern continued all day Tuesday, and by Tuesday evening I was becoming a little frustrated and impatient.  The contractions were fairly intense when they came, and I felt certain that they were increasing my dilation, but they still weren't close together or becoming regular at all.  Finally, that night at about 11:00, they started coming every ten minutes or so. I decided to get into a bath to relax, and once again, the contractions stopped. By 12:45, I decided that because of how intense they were getting, we needed to go to the hospital. Tony called his mom, and she came up to the house and stayed the night with the kids, and we were off!  I felt excited to finally be going, but nervous that the labor might stop again and we were going to the hospital too early.

I guess all it took was me deciding it was time, because during the thirty minute drive, the contractions became very regular, and by the time we got to the hospital, they were about three minutes apart and strong. By the time we got settled in at the delivery room, they wanted to check me so the doctor had an idea of how far along I was. I was happy and encouraged that I was at 8cm. I put in my headphones with my relaxation cues and settled into the relaxation and breathing patterns that I had practiced and had used during Brady's birth.  For about an hour or more, things were quite uneventful.  I kept my eyes closed and breathed through each contraction.  Tony said that if it wasn't for the monitor, he wouldn't have been able to tell when I was having a contraction.  Although they were intense, the techniques I had practiced helped me to deal with them without a lot of pain.

During this time, however, I started having a dull pain in my lower back that would not go away.  This bothered me a lot since I was prepared to have time to really relax in between contractions, and this increasing back pain made that really hard to do.  As time went on, the back pain became a much bigger issue for  me than the contractions.  I tried sitting or laying in different positions, and Tony massaged my back, but it still would not stop. After about an hour and a half of laboring in the hospital, the nurse checked my dilation again. I hadn't let her know ahead of time that I didn't want to know my progress after the initial check, so she announced that I was still at an 8!  This news caused a little break-down for me once she left the room.  I told Tony I didn't know if I could do it any more if I wasn't progressing and that I really needed something to make my back feel better.  I told him that I didn't want an epidural, but that maybe there was something else they could give me that would lessen the pain a little bit, especially in my back.  I was crying a little at this point, but Tony didn't give in. He told me no; that's not really what I wanted. I was a little mad at first, but knew he was right.  He told me to close my eyes and try to relax again and breathe.  I did and started feeling a little better.

At that point, I felt like I should sit up on the edge of the bed and lean forward onto a table to try to stretch out my lower back.  During the next contraction, I really felt Lewis move down, and the low, animalistic sound that lets me know I'm in transition came out of me. (I say "came out of me" because it's not like I "make" the sound. It just comes out. Labor is the only time I have experienced this.) Although I wasn't looking forward to the intensity of this next phase, I was excited because I knew that things were finally moving forward and that Lewis would be here soon. After a couple more contractions, I started feeling the urge to push.  If I remember right, I only pushed for three contractions.  He really came fast once he finally decided to come!  I wasn't aware of this, because my eyes were closed, but Tony told me afterward that after my second pushing contraction, the nurse whispered to my doctor, asking him if he felt the baby yet, or if it was close.  He shook his head no. And then I pushed him out during the next contraction.  Because he came out so fast, it was really intense and the "ring of fire" feeling was very real! I didn't remember that part being quite as painful with Brady, so I was surprised when I actually found myself screaming during the final push, and I couldn't seem to stop myself from doing it.  I hoped there wasn't some first-time mom in the next room who was now scared to death because of the screaming lady next door!

Once he was out, they laid him on my chest, and I just held him and cried.  It was such an overwhelming experience. He was finally here! And he was beautiful!  And I was done!!!  I just held him and nursed him for the next hour or so. I just kept looking at how new and perfect he was. It's amazing how much love you can feel for this little baby that you just barely met. The same little baby that has caused you quite a bit of discomfort in the past couple months, and especially in the past couple hours.  But it's real, and it's amazing.

We finally decided that we should measure and weigh him and get him cleaned up.  He was a big boy! 8 lb. 8 oz. and 21 1/2 inches long, my biggest baby yet.  He waited for his due date to be born, and came just before 4am.

I've heard many mothers say that God gives mothers the ability to forget childbirth so that we'll have more than one baby.  I don't really agree with this.  First of all, I think childbirth is a beautiful, empowering, and even sacred experience. It is truly a miracle, and I love that I have been able to experience that miracle in such a real way, feeling every bit of it.  Secondly, Lewis is not yet three weeks old.  I certainly haven't forgotten it yet.  But already, I know I would do it again, because although it isn't easy, what you get--that precious little baby that you love more than you knew you could love--is so worth it!