Well, I traded the nesting for some resting.

On July 15th, the Feast of St. Henry, at 9:53 a.m., weighing in at 8 lbs. 2 oz. and measuring 19.75 inches long, we welcomed…Baby H!

baby h

It was by far the easiest (and quickest!) c-section I have had, and I couldn’t believe how calm I was the entire time.  The husband and I were talking about how we didn’t even feel like we were in the same room because by the time they let him in, they were already into the surgery, and within about 2 minutes of my husband sitting down beside me, the little guy was born.

The recovery, however, was not my favorite, and it consisted of pain meds NOT working for the entire first day.  This time they gave me a spinal/epidural combo, and the epidural was supposed to allow pain meds to flow when I needed them.  I’m used to a spinal where the spinal wears off so I can feel my legs quickly again, and the morphine they pumped me full of keeps all pain away for an entire day.

Guess what they don’t give you with a spinal/epidural combo?  


Guess who felt EVERY bit of pain the minute the spinal wore off?


Guess who didn’t apparently believe her?


So, finally a nurse must have either a.) believed me or b.) gotten sick of me explaining that NOTHING WAS WORKING, so she called up the anesthesiologist who said, “Rip that cath out of her back, and let’s experiment with oral meds!”

So, we did.

And I la-la-la-loved me some Percocet, folks.  Next time I shall ask for that immediately afterward if they do a spinal/epidural combo.  

Good.  times.

Where were we?  Ah, yes.  The babe.

He’s a big hit around here.


That would be the morning line-up where everyone demands to hold the baby.  B, our 2 year-old, is absolutely in LOVE with his brother and runs and gets a pillow anytime I emerge from the bedroom after feeding the baby.

That’s his “HEY!  I’M READY TO HOLD THE BABY!” cue for us.

I found out with Baby #3 that I could no longer set a baby down in a swing.

Or on a blanket on the floor.

Because small children…germs…smothering…eye-gouging.

This baby gets carried everywhere as well, and I will soon be wearing him everywhere when the c-section heals because…germs…smothering…eye-gouging.

What else?

Ah, yes.  There was the second official day where we were home from the hospital–making H a whopping five days old where he suddenly started spitting up…brownish/blackish/greenish…stuff.

I called his pediatrician, freaking out only slightly panicked, and he said that if it continued happening we needed to take him to the children’s hospital because blah, blah, blah, intestine blockage.  

That’s what I heard.

So, guess what?  He continued the spitting up.

So, we took him into the children’s hospital.

While my stomach was in a knot, waiting for them to tell me he had to have surgery, the doctor said…he’s allergic to cow’s milk protein.


Wait–really?  That’s it?

She reassured me that if I cut all dairy out of my diet, he would be back to normal within a few days.

And you know what?

She was right.

So, my love for all things cheese, butter, and sour cream have been put on hold right now as I grapple with trying to figure out what exactly to eat now that 95% of my diet has been chucked out the window.

Hey, whatever keeps this little guy happy.

Anyways–that’s the latest.  

We’re loving our new little guy and trying to get back into a routine–which should happen in 2015.