A Wish and a Prayer

So the stupid blog and the stupid RSS feed and the stupid new URL all work now. And I only shed like, 3 stupid tears each day of the saga over it all, so…all's well that ends well. The moral of this story is, I suppose, that people like me who rely on the internet for work and play should maybe learn a thing or two about how it all works, or else have some IT savvy friend in their inner circle, lest one find oneself on the phone with Chet from Phoenix late one Monday night, using techie words in inapplicable instances and trying not to heave pregnancy-induced sobs into the phone because it's 10 pm and I just want to take a bath. Wah. I wish I'd taken a computer class in college.

Moving on.

My friends, there is this little baby. I know there are so many little babies in need of prayers right now, both in the womb and outside of it, but I am asking for specific prayers for the same little girl I introduced you to last week (when my stupid.freaking.stupid.blog was still broken). She is making great strides and is off all her tubes and monitors and even taking a bottle…but (and this is a big, ugly but) her parents just had their most recent consult with her neurologist and his diagnosis is not a hopeful one. Basically, due to the trauma and loss of oxygen at birth, her cerebrum was catastrophically damaged and he expects her to suffer from cerebral palsy, which can mean an absence of speech, motor skills, limb control, expression of feelings…in a sort of any or all combination.

I know a thing about cerebral palsy, because my uncle, my dad's little brother, also suffered it due to a traumatic birth and was wheelchair bound and institutionalized for most of his 49 years. He used a computer to communicate and while he had full intelligence, he was basically locked inside of himself and a body that would not cooperate with his mind. I don't want that for baby Lily, and I can't believe that God could refuse the petitions of her family and friends if we storm heaven on her behalf.

I know a lot of us are pregnant right now, and I know that sucks sometimes. From morning sickness to back labor to actual tearing of flesh that ought not to be torn…it's a grueling process, giving life. And if you're in my camp then you'll probably be searching for remedies to alleviate some or all of the suffering entailed on a physical level. I guess what I'm asking is that you take a tiny amount of that suffering and offer it up on behalf of Lily and her complete and miraculous healing. Whatever that looks like for you, whether it be waiting 10 minutes to pop a Tums when the heartburn kicks in or offering up those early pre-anesthesiologist contractions upon admission to Labor and Delivery, let's use our occasions of motherly suffering to call down graces and prayers upon this little baby girl and her family. And if you feel compelled to help in another very real and tangible way, God bless you for it.

I know I complain far too often about my beautiful, healthy children and the imaginary traumas they inflict on me all the live long day - I know! I'm in the least likely position to advocate for some kind of heroic redemptive suffering. But I can make little efforts here and there, I know I can, and I can pray that they have some effect on Lily's healing and recovery. I hope you'll consider joining me to do the same.

Thanks for hanging with me during the techno-saga of Advent 2013, and I pray your hearts and your homes are being beautifully prepared for the Big Event in a couple weeks' time.

Weighting Game

Still here, still pregnant, still trying to figure out why I thought it might be a good idea to slap a legit '.com' on the 'ol small time blog and then end up with 3 weeks of missed posts, dropped subscribers, and finally a really fun 2 days where both the old and new addresses disappeared completely. I may or may not have shed a tiny tear to the husband yesterday that I had ruined my beloved blog and therefore had no avenue through which to vomit my thoughts and feelings onto the internet. And at 38 weeks pregnant, believe me, I have a lot of feelings. I also cried because yesterday John Paul tracked snowy mud into the master bath which I had painstakingly scoured on all fours with a dish scrubber this past week, so go figure.

In short, I look amazing, my family is basking in the hormonal love-fest that is the late third trimester, and I'm locked in a deadly daily ritual of "consume most of an entire bag of Salsa Verde Doritos/swell up like a blowfish/deflate in a lavender epsom salt bath for 45 minutes to an hour. Repeat."

I think I've also pulled late nights the past 3 in a row trolling Grace's infamous birth story linkup, so I'm feeling simultaneously at peace and very, very disconcerted about giving birth a third time. Yesterday I casually mentioned a birth plan for this go-round to Dave, and offered him two slightly differing scripts to present at registration:

1. "Hi, I'm in labor. Please instruct the anesthesiologist to meet us in our room."

or the slightly more upbeat,

2. "Hello, this is my third delivery, and I don't want to feel anything but joy."

I think depending upon the date, we'll opt toward #2 for a holly jolly birthday but stick to the more direct #1 if she doesn't debut on Christmas proper.

Needless to say, I'm not planning on trying for anything close to approaching a 'natural' delivery this time around, unless by natural you mean the baby exiting the intended route rather than ala scalpel. So from that perspective, hell yeah, natural all the way. Just so long as the joy is undimmed by anything approaching back labor, persistent posterior presentation, or tearing/episiotomy slicing of any degree.

Our Advent has been so, so good this year so far. I am loving how much the boys - especially Joey - seem to be soaking in the different little ways we're observing the season, and I'm surprisingly really, really enjoying being "pregnant like Mama Mary was" during the most wonderful time of the year. Plus, it's been like 7 degrees here for a week straight, and I'm finally not sweating like a linebacker. I have gotten many a raised eyebrow whilst prancing about town in a sundress layered with a cardigan, sans tights, but I feel like I'm finally in a climate controlled body for the first time in months, so…winter babies for the win!

Fall babies are cute too, though. (Plus, look closely, he came with an owner's manual.)

This week is promising to be a flurry of fun, family reunions, moving days, girl's nights out, and various impromptu "only child(ren)"trips to Dairy Queen/Starbucks/whatever because 1. I feel like it and 2. The boys are just so cute right now, and I'm trying to soak up these last few weeks of the pair of them as a twosome, and big bertha mama with a baby on board and no cumbersome carseat on my arm.

To end on a technical low note, I'm hoping to have the IT issues resolved sometime this week, but in the meantime, the old address is the one that's functioning, and bloglovin' is unable to pull from my old or new rss feed, so you'll have to come visit the old fashioned way by typing in www.thismamaneedscoffee.blogspot.com. Vom. I hate technology and it hates me back.

Happy Second Sunday of Advent, and go Broncos!

Housekeeping

I've noticed - and been notified - that bloglovin' is having trouble porting over followers from www.thismamaneedscoffee.blogspot.com to the new address, www.mamaneedscoffee.com. They're working to make the fix, so thanks for your patience if you usually read on bloglovin' and have missed a few posts. It should be updated sometime this week.

5 Favorites: Hospital Bag

So I should proooooobably pack something to take for the dreaded overnight at hotel hospital for this little lady's imminent arrival, but I find myself at something of a loss.

Firstly, if I pack a bag that means I'm expecting to go into labor soon. At least in my mind, bag preparedness = imminent birth. I'm 'full term' at 37 weeks now, and indeed, Joey was born at 37w 4d, so it's not completely beyond the realm of possibility. But. But… John Paul debuted at 41 weeks and some change. So, yeah. If you're counting, that's around a month's difference in gestational time. They were both spontaneous labors, and Joey was actually 10 oz bigger than JP, so…who knows. And yes, we knew our dates were right, both times. Particularly with our almost-honeymoon baby Joey, ahem.

So that means I may be pregnant for like, another 2 days. Or else for another month. No big deal, right? Well, except for the extra 2-3 lbs I seem to be piling on every single week still. And the fact that I had to buy a new maternity shirt yesterday in this, my 9th month of pregnancy, when I'd really prefer to be saving my pennies for something not designed by Madame Lange and consisting of a 97/3 lycra poly blend. I don't know, maybe pants with a zipper? Something crazy.

But back to the bag. For our firstborn's delivery, I had a full size suitcase packed with aaaaaaaall the recommended Bradley business you can imagine, and then some. Tennis balls. Scented candles. Essential oils. A birthing ball. Literally made Dave stuff a 55 inch fully inflated birthing ball in the backseat of our Honda accord before driving my laboring, broken-watered self through rush hour traffic on a Wednesday evening to our hospital. Oh, and a Boppy. And a blow dryer. And 3 outfits for all three of us, I'm pretty sure. At any rate, 80% of it never made it up from the parking lot to the birthing suite, and I'm almost positive that I wore the same pair of his and his gym shorts and a ratty nursing tank for the entire 3 day stay. We may have even done a leave-behind on the birthing ball in the hospital parking lot when we discovered we couldn't get Joey's carseat strapped into the back seat due to it's massive girth…

I did a little better packing for JP's debut, but not a lot, and I distinctly remember looking around our teeny teeny teeny recovery room and freaking the freak out because there was clutter everywhere: clothes, balloons, half empty bottles of champagne, diapers, makeup…it was so not zen-like.

This time I would looooove to strike the perfect balance between prepared and spartan chic. I'm talking one bathrobe for mama, a handful of footie pajamas and onesies for baby girl, and maybe Dave's contact solution and toothbrush. Maybe. (I'd love to not have to stay a single night this time around, fingers crossed!)

So I throw the floor open to you, mamas. What are your go-to items/products for birth day? Here are mine:

1. Earth Mama Angel Baby new mama bottom spray. I can't/won't really go into further detail, but, yes. Essential. And much nicer smelling than lydocaine.

2. Bravado nurisng bra. Just picked this one up at Target to rave reviews from my 2-person try on panel in the family sized dressing room. Praying it lives up to the hype, and that they both wipe that memory clean from the delicate slate of their formative young souls…

3. Arbonne FC5 moisturizing day lotion. I use the formula for normal/dry skin, and I feel like a huge troll if I don't put it on morning and night, even though I'm probably not reaping the full SPF benefits in the midnight hours. It feels better than any lotion I've ever used, and I happily cough up the 30-something bucks every 6 months to reorder it.

You can buy some from my bff Elizabeth here.

4. My MacBook. Oh internet, the thought of sitting in a hospital recovery room without you by my side is too sad to bear. Plus, birth story writing. Maybe a little ambitious, we'll see.

5. Our San Damiano Crucifix. I bought it at the FUS bookstore before graduation and had it blessed by my old spiritual director, a wonderful T.O.R. with a rocking beard. Since then it has accompanied us into every delivery room, and I made sure to bring it to our last general audience with Papa Francesco before we departed Roma, so now it's layered with a thick layer of papal blessing, too. (Freaked out yet, non-Catholic readers?) My wonderful doctor also brings a beautiful icon of the Blessed Mother and props her up somewhere in my eyeshot, and I love begin able to look around our sterile and hideously-late-90's-oak-panelled delivery suite and see some actual beauty.

So tell me, what's in your bag? What am I missing? And head to Hallie's house on your way out.

How We Deck Our Halls

When Dave and I were first married, we arrived home flushed and tan from our Hawaiian honeymoon to our adorable apartment just as the calendar was turning over to December. I think I may have mentioned stopping at a grocery store en route from the airport to snag our Christmas tree, so far behind schedule had our late-November nuptials put us. He probably laughed, but then he looked at my face and realized, ohhhh…and thus our first marital conflict was born. Just kidding. Well, sort of.

To say that we were raised in different liturgical traditions wouldn't be accurate, because we were definitely both raised Catholic. But let's just say that one of in-laws were balanced on ladders stringing lights and hanging tinsel before the Thanksgiving turkey had even hit the table, while the other were peacefully contemplating which Christmas tree of the 4 remaining on the lot on Christmas Adam (Christmas Eve eve, y'all. It's the best non-feast day of the entire year) would suffice for the family evergreen.

So we were at an impasse. I think because we were like 17 days man and wife and because he is a wonderful husband, I won the great tree debate of 2009. Obviously we bought a real tree, and obviously we strung and lit that sucker up before the wax had melted on our Advent candles for that year, and obviously it died a cruel, painful death after a few days in our dry, indoor Denver air. But whatever, we kept that bad boy vertical until Epiphany and then kicked it to the curb in an explosion of dry needles and pine pollen. And possibly sparks of actual fire, because it was d.r.y. and dead as hell.

The second year came, and the second dead-before-Advent-commenced Christmas tree followed. Also, Dave accidentally caught our mantle and part of the garland and stocking situation strung there on fire. Because that dead Christmas tree was prime firewood and not to be wasted. (Our landlord never found out, and we managed to scrub all the soot off the walls by the time our lease was up.)

By last year's Christmas, our third of wedded bliss, we had finally devised something of a blended family tradition all our own, and by golly, it looks as though it has stuck. Don't get me wrong, the tree still died a cruel and miserable death far too early into the season, but it wasn't killed by overzealous decorating or liturgical precociousness. It's still just really freaking dry here.

Christmas 2011, pregnant with John Paul and probably in need of a longer hemline.

So our new 'tradition' was born. This year it feels even more effective, if you will, because I have had to be super picky about what we can commit to and what I can reasonably handle with a giant belly and the looming specter of yuletide newborn sleeplessness. Hence, lowered expectations. Here's how it breaks down:

Pre-Advent/last week of November: Begin and (mostly) finish Christmas shopping. We're blessed in that both our families are content with simple 'Secret Santa' exchanges, so each Dave and I are responsible for buying gifts for 1 member of each of our original families, if that makes sense. So that's a total of 4 gifts. In addition to that, we get each other one gift each, and we sometimes decide to give something additionally to our parents. The boys get two gifts each this year, we decided, because we basically bought them the earth and then some in our relocation back to the US earlier this year, and we have a pretty minimal toy policy around here. I also assemble the necessary ingredients for an Advent wreath and we make some kind of game plan for how we're going to keep the penitential aspect of Advent in the forefront. This year it worked out that we could both go to Confession before Mass this morning, so that was perfect.

First Sunday of Advent: We light up the first candle in our wreath (we're going to try to light the appropriate candle every day and say a very, very brief prayer each day this Advent, we'll see how it goes), and we go out and buy the tree. It's sitting decked out with lights in our living room, but we compromise and only light it on major feast days and during Sundays in Advent until Guadete (the pink candle) Sunday. Then it's lights ooooooon till Santa touches down. We also set up our Nativity set, leaving baby Jesus hidden somewhere else in the house, and putting the Wise Men east of the stable (like that?) and Mary and Joseph heading in from the west side. The cows are already chilling crib side. And speaking of Santa Claus…

I still believe. I also love St. Nicholas, so this year for the first time, we had the boys write letters to Santa/St. Nick (totally interchangeable in my twisted mind) asking for prayer intentions to be brought before the baby Jesus and okay, a couple present requests. It's not theologically perfect, but it's better than secular Santa who has basically been relegated to the role of kiddie crack dealer.

We've also told them that if they put their shoes out Thursday evening on the eve of St. Nicholas' feast day, he will take their letters when he drops off their treats. He'll also leave them a little note of encouragement for how they can help prepare their hearts and our home for baby Jesus' arrival. How cool is that? No pretend trip to the mail box or postage to the North Pole. Bam.

(One year I concocted an elaborate Christmas carol/epic poem of sorts involving Santa-ala-St. Nicholas, bishop and mighty defeater of heretics, capturing and subduing with his sleigh-driving whip all our notorious dissenting "Catholic" politicians. Nancy Pelosi was turned into an enslaved reindeer and forced to pull the sleigh as part of her penance. It was all very disturbing to my audience, I'm sure.)

Second Sunday of Advent: We add ornaments to the tree. By this point our parish usually has their giving tree ornaments up too, so we select a family to sponsor and take a really, really fun trip to Target where we buy presents for 'our' family. I love the way our parish does this ministry because 1. you get to choose the family size you can sponsor (we like to pick a family the same size and in close ages to our own kids) and 2. you get to wrap the presents you buy for them. We also like to write Christmas messages to our family and maybe this year I'll actually think to write down all their names so we can pray for them all season. Work in progress here. We generally spend a decent amount of money doing this, which is part of the reason our gift-giving within our own home is limited. It helps bring balance to the season for us, and I hope it gives the kids a more realistic view of what Christmas really stands for.

Third Sunday of Advent (Guadete): Rejoice! He's coming! Lights on, presents all wrapped and stashed, remaining shopping odds and ends finished up, and perhaps another trip to the Confessional if necessary to prepare for Christmas.

Fourth Sunday of Advent: We top the tree. This year we'll need to buy a new star, and actually our 8 foot Costco beauty is already scratching at the ceiling, but I'm sure we'll come up with something. From here on out it's game time, and any remaining details will most definitely need to be checked off the list, because I plan on being in labor at this point. We shall see.

Christmas Adam: (it's a real holiday in my family) Christmas begins a teensy bit early. Crank the speakers, it's time to play Christmas music and drink awful mulled wine (gluvine, if you're being technical.) I am going to try really hard not to listen to Christmas music during Advent this year, to the extent that I can control it, and I'm looking forward to breaking that little 'fast' on the eve of the big Eve. Get it? Christmas Adam.

Christmas Eve: Candlelight Mass, stockings hung, Mary and Jesus arrive at hotel nativity, and kiddos are slammed to bed in anticipation of baby Jesus' arrival, heralded by Santa himself. Candlelight Mass is probably wildly optimistic this year, but we'll see how much longer this gestational situation can drag itself out.

Christmas Day: Party up in heeeeeere. Mass in the morning if we didn't make it the night before, followed by stockings and presents. I'll be celebrating with adult substances for sure, either via a narcotic dripping into the space surrounding my spinal column or a huge glass of wine perched on my lap, along with my already 2-week-old daughter who is definitely going to be sleeping through the night. Ha ha haaaaaaappy holidays to you all. That's how we do. Congrats if you made it to the festive end.

p.s. Thank you for your prayers for baby Lily. She is improving every day so keep them coming!