My Baby's Turning One

photo credit//Ken Bruggeman

In one week my baby will be ONE. One. Year. Old. Can you imagine?? Where has this year gone?? I'm sort of in denial and also excited about her celebration. It's the strangest thing how it feels like it sneaked up on me as I was planning it the entire time. But it's here. It's inevitable. And I couldn't be more in love with my sweet baby girl.

photo credit//Ken Bruggeman

I'm finally getting around to making a book of the beautiful images we have from Violet's birth. At the suggestion of a photog friend, I'm using Blurb to make a hardbound book for us. But I'm also planning on making a paperback book using Artifact Uprising to give to the wonderful nurses at the hospital and also to my midwife. Artifact Uprising has a sweet {and free} mobile app that allows you to make amazing books from your phone. I really can't wait to try it out. I thought it would be nice to let my nurses and midwife see the images that were taken that day and also to see the beautiful little one-year-old girl that Violet has become. My doctors' walls are plastered with images of infants, but rarely do you see the older kids they become. So ever since I first looked at the images from Violet's birth, I knew this was what I wanted to do.

It has been so emotional and wonderful reminiscing on the magical day that Violet was born. I loved re-reading her birth story and remembering our day through the beautiful images Ken was able to capture for us. I'm so grateful to have them. And most of all, I'm so grateful to have her. She's the perfect addition to our family and we can't imagine life without her.

A Letter to My Second Born

Dear Violet,

First of all, let me say thank you. I couldn't do this life without you. From the moment you were born, it seems as though you naturally settled into the role of a second born child. You are pleasant, content. You are patient and happy. You rarely complain when I hastily lay you down to wrangle your rambunctious brother or when you are forced to wait a few minutes more for a belly full of milk because your brother has to go potty {or says he does even when he doesn't because he knows he'll get Mommy's attention}. And, Violet, I am so indebted to you for this. Being a mommy is never easy, but you have made it as easy as possible. And I am so thankful.

And now I'd like to say sorry. I'm sorry for all of the times that you might feel like you're second best. Or that you don't get my undivided attention. Or that your needs aren't my priority. I'm sorry for the times that you have to wait because your brother's needs are more pressing. I never want you to feel this way. And since I'm a first born child, I don't know how you might feel. But please know that I'm sorry if you ever feel second best. I assure you, Violet, that you are not. Not even close.

Because, Violet, the truth is that I love you more than you can imagine {until maybe one day if you have babies of your own}. And you know what, sweetheart? Without your brother, I wouldn't know how to love you so well. Your brother taught me to love beyond my wildest imagination. And when I thought it would be impossible to love another human as much as I loved your brother, the moment you were born, my heart grew even bigger. I love you as if you're my first born, my only child. I love you as my second born. I love you. And I always will.

And also, please don't feel as though you have to be like your brother or do what he does. You are perfect just as you are. Unique and perfect. You're brother is smart and I have no doubt that you will be smart too. But if you don't know what a cow says when you're only 8 months old or speak in sentences before you're 2, that's okay. I want you to know that we are not comparing you to him. We just enjoy watching you grow and learn and develop and blossom at your own pace. On your own schedule. As you see fit. And we look forward to celebrating every new stage with you whenever you get there. So please don't ever believe the lie that we're disappointed in you because you're not doing what he's doing. That's rubbish. You just keep doing what you're doing. We take such delight in watching you grow and love you more every moment of every day.

And finally, I just want to say that I'm better now. An expert--no. But your brother was our experiment, our trial-and-error child. And while I'm a pretty laid back person, as you'll come to learn, I realize {now that I have you} just how much more laid back I am the second time around. I always want to be a hands-on mom, darling. I never want to be sidelined from you or your activities. But I know that you need room to grow, explore and develop. And so if it ever seems as though I'm somehow not worried enough about you or involved enough in something you may be doing, please know that I am simply giving you the room you need to grow. To develop naturally and without me hovering over you dictating your next move.

I will mess up. I'll make mistakes for sure. Nothing in this life can ever be guaranteed--at least not those things involving the human heart, mind and soul. But in all that I do, I promise, Violet, that I love you. Unconditionally and incomprehensibly so.

xoxo,
Mama

Violet's Birth Story: A Christmas Eve Miracle

I woke up on Christmas Eve without one sign of labor. I had been having minor contractions on and off for a few days, so I knew I would be delivering within a week's time. But I had no idea it would be that day. 

It felt like an unusually long morning and it was only 8:30. Burke was overly mischievous that morning and I wondered what we'd do all day until our Christmas Eve church service that evening. And then I had my first contraction. And I knew.

But we had some last minute Christmas errands to run. And I needed to wait it out. Labor at home. Or at the store. Each contraction would stop me in my tracks and I would pretend to fixate on whatever ordinary object was in front of me while I silently breathed through the pain. I hoped no one noticed and yet really didn't care if they did. 

I laid Burke down for his nap. I ate a nice lunch. It would be my last meal before delivering. And I wasn't sure how long that would take. 

I had done this before and yet I was nervous. Nervous that they'd send me home. Were my contractions really strong enough? Consistent enough? I didn't have time or energy to time them. I'm a woman of estimation. Precision isn't my thing, really. But I also have a pretty high threshold for pain--and these contractions hurt. But it was 9 days early. Thankfully, they let me stay. I was already 5 cm dilated and 100% effaced. Around 1:30 pm I was admitted.

Was I getting an epidural, they wanted to know. I didn't want one. I wanted to do this naturally. I wanted to be a real woman. {Because somehow, somewhere my perception of a real woman told me that she would be able to do it all. All. By. Herself. And without any anesthesia.} But since I had a c-section last time, if anything went wrong, they'd have to knock me out cold. General anesthesia. 

I knew the unpredictability of labor and delivery far too well. I knew that no matter my best intentions and my deepest wishes, the outcome wasn't in my hands. But I could control whether I was awake to meet my baby. 

So I got an epidural. And it was okay. I was okay. My child wouldn't judge my decision. My husband already thought I was amazing. And he only wanted me to be comfortable. To be okay. And so, instead of believing I wasn't a real woman--that somehow I failed--I simply began to change my perception.

{Pregnancy and childbirth must be so hard on a man whose inner instinct is to fix things. To be stripped of the ability to act on his instinct and helplessly watch his wife endure the pain must be utterly frightening.}

By 3:30-4 o'clock, I was fully dilated. My midwife broke my water and sat me up to allow gravity to make final preparations for delivery. 

Although I had an epidural, I was ready to push. I could feel the pressure of each contraction. It was time.

Pushing was hard. I realized the next day, when my entire back was sore, that I used nearly every muscle in my body to push the baby out. A realization I couldn't quite immediately grasp under the effect of anesthesia. 

Thankfully, I only had to push for 12 minutes. 

And she was born. At 5:05 pm. Our girl. Our Violet Laine. And the huge sigh of emptiness on my inside was replaced with a crying, warm, writhing body on my chest. She was completely purple from coming so fast. And she was beautiful. And my heart was overwhelmed. And it was complete.

Joy. Relief. Love. Disbelief. Satisfaction. Curiosity. Peace. Gratitude. Happiness. 

God was so good. So incredibly good. Violet's birth was the most amazing gift I could have received. It redeemed my birthing experience. It was my Christmas Eve miracle. 

I had the most loving, kind and attentive nursing staff imaginable. And to them, I'll be forever grateful that they left their families at home and missed watching their babies sing at church on a snowy Christmas Eve night so that they could care for me. The nurse that checked me in and cared for me first was the same exact nurse who did the very same thing for me when Burke was born. Neither time was she there for the delivery, and this time, she visited us the following day so that she could meet our sweet girl. 

And I was so extremely thankful to have an amazing midwife assist the resident doctor in delivering Violet. She was so calm, gentle, encouraging. She kept me from tearing. And she greeted me with a hug the next day and told me how amazing I was. And the resident doctor who delivered Violet was a familiar face as well. I remembered her as the doctor who assisted in stitching my incision after my c-section with Burke. And during my hospital stay with Burke, each time she followed up with me, she was always so gentle, patient and kind. I felt confident and calm knowing that she was delivering my baby this time.  

Six pounds. Fourteen ounces. Nineteen and one-half inches long. My baby girl. My Christmas Eve miracle. We are so blessed.

I am so thankful to our friend, Ken Bruggeman, for these amazing photos. Click here to see Violet's birth story as told by Ken. It's perfect. His detail shots set the stage, narrate the tale and conclude the story in the most beautiful way. {I love the snow-covered conclusion!} The action photos take me back to those moments, but from his perspective. And I love seeing the story that he saw. I love that he captured the joy, laughter, pain, resting, anticipation, relief, calm and strength of the story. And I love that he tastefully captured the most intimate moment a mother shares with her baby. In those moments, when I am nursing my baby, we are so intimately connected and nothing else matters.

Meet Violet

Christmas came a day early for our family this year. At 5:05pm on Christmas Eve, we welcomed Baby #2--a sweet and completely purple baby girl. As soon as we saw that beautiful purple face we knew. Her name is Violet Laine Phillips!

 

 We are partial to family names when possible. So Violet inherited her first name from my great grandmother, Dorothy Violet. My great grandma was the closest thing to a saint on this earth--in addition to her own 3 children, she cared for more than 70 foster babies in her 92 years. Born in Arizona when it was still just a territory, my great grandma never lost her love for all things western, and glamorized the side braid until the day she died. She was beautiful and thoughtful and I'm honored to have the privilege to name my sweet girl after her. Violet's middle name is inherited from my Nana, Elaine. We had a hard time coming up with the perfect middle name for our baby girl and while Violet Elaine sounded nice, we weren't so crazy about the E. So, one night, about a week before her arrival, my hubby asked what I thought of Violet Laine if we ended up having a little girl. Immediately, I loved it. And I loved that Violet would be named after not just one, but two beautiful and inspiring women. My Nana passed away a year ago in December and I will always remember how gracefully she left this earth. She was beautiful and peaceful in the midst of a painful physical battle and courageous and excited to dance with her groom.

wrapped in my mom's wedding veil

Our girl is amazingly laid back {I suppose she wore herself out after 9 tumultuous months in my womb--the girl was seriously violent at times!} and wants only to sleep and eat. She is not demanding and sleeps well at night. {We are thankful because with Burke, we had serious bedtime anxiety well into the first two months.} She rarely cries, but when she does she's suddenly all sorts of drama. It's pretty funny, actually.

It's hard to believe she's already yet only two weeks old. On one hand, it feels like the past two weeks have blurred by us and I'm afraid to blink because I might find that she's already heading out the door to kindergarten. But on the other hand, she has fit so perfectly into our family that it feels like she's just been here forever. It was mostly a seamless transition.

 

And her big brother is head-over-heels in love with his sissy--his Vi Vi {except after waking up a bit grumpy from a nap that was far too short}. He calls out her name upon waking in the morning and insists on kissing her many times a day. He still sometimes tries to steal her pacifier and may or may not leave her with a battle wound, but he also gently pats her head and empathetically cries when she cries. He has assumed his new role of Helper without being asked. In fact, he downright throws a tantrum if I don't change her dirty diaper fast enough because he just can't wait to clap for himself after throwing it in the trash. I love that kid SOOO much! 

this photo makes my heart a mushy puddle of joy

 I am so grateful for all of the blessings of motherhood. That my heart can love two babies equally and yet separately and both so fiercely is a marvel. A real miracle. And that this love grows more and more each day leaves me speechless. At times, paralyzed. And mostly only excited about the future. Because each new day fills my heart with an even greater capacity to love, experience and steward these two gifts I have been given. 

{A BIG thanks once again to our amazingly talented friend, Ken Bruggeman, for these beautiful photos! I am so happy to remember our life through his perspective!}

Born to Love

 In just a few short days {or any second now} my sweet baby boy will become a big brother. At almost 19 months, he "knows" there is a baby in Mommy's belly and will often give it kisses. But what he doesn't know is what that really means. He has no idea how this baby will change his life. And neither do I.

Before Burke, I couldn't imagine loving a little human as much as I do. It's intense. Incredible. And indescribable most days. And now, before Baby #2, I find myself unable to imagine loving two little humans and both equally as much. But, I have experience to rely on. I can look back nearly 19 months and remember how it felt to become a mother for the very first time. To lay eyes on that perfect little boy I carried for nearly 10 months. And I can know, based on this, that although I can't quite imagine it right now, it'll happen. My capacity to love will grow and I will have the privilege of loving two babies.

But Burke doesn't have this experience. He only knows life as it is now. As it's been for the past 18 months. And I don't have an experience yet for how a child will adjust to a new sibling. Maybe for Baby #3 these thoughts won't even course through my mind. But here and now, as we once again enter uncharted territory, they do.

Here I am, just 11 days away from my due date, and I am finally ready to have this baby. In fact, I went from not ready to get it out of me in a day, I'm fairly certain. But as soon as I wish this baby to be born, my heart gets distracted and wishes for things to stay as they are. For Burke's sake. Because he didn't ask for a sibling. And what if it's selfish of me?

And then my heart reassured me. He was born to love. And so now, whenever this baby comes, I am ready. And I know he will be too.

Musings

When I used to watch TV, I saw a commercial for one computer or computer system {you know...like the Windows 7 commercials or something} in which a dad wrote emails to his baby girl throughout her life. And I thought, I need to do that for my babies!

So when Burke was born, I created a Gmail account for him and Ben and I have been emailing him periodically over the past seventeen months. {When we remember} we send him pictures and silly videos of himself that we capture on our iPhones. Sometimes I'll email him a blog post I've written if it's specifically pertaining to his cuteness or how much I adore him. And other times, like today, I just sit down and write to him.

And I tell him how he's on my heart. I tell him that, even though he has no idea how our life will change in just a few weeks with the addition of another family member, he will always be my baby. My love. And that even though he'll never remember being an only child and having our 100% undivided attention, I feel a little sad for him as though he might somehow miss this. Even though I know it's not true. And I assure him that no matter how old he is, no matter if he's married or not, no matter what he's done, doing or will do...there is no where he can run to escape my love. And there is nothing he can do to make me love him any less.

My love for him is fierce. And I hope that he doesn't have to wait to read these emails someday to find out about the depth of my love for him. My desire is that when he does end up reading these emails, he can confidently say that he knows my words are true because I modeled them throughout his sweet life. And so these emails also remind me to continue my journey of intentionality. And to make sure that my love isn't just some words in an email but that my love is a part of who he is. So that like his identity, he knows that my love for him can never be separated from who he is or what he's done.

Do you email your babies? What do you do to preserve memories?

The Countdown

I know I've said it many times before, but I cannot believe how fast my pregnancy is going! I just hit 30 weeks which means I'm beginning the countdown to single digits and the very end of my journey. {PS...only 2 months til Christmas!} Over the past few weeks the reality of having another child has settled in. And with this new awareness has come a surprisingly delightful excitement to meet my little bundle.

I'm still not rushing time. In fact, {and this may be the ONLY time I ever say this} I may just be okay with being overdue with this little peanut. I love being a full-time mama to one very active, smart and exceedingly comical little boy. I love when he snuggles into me, resting on my growing belly. While my lap has all but disappeared my heart {and belly} only gets bigger and bigger each and every day. I have no idea how another child will change our lives, but I'm betting that Burke has taught my heart only the very beginning lessons on just how much I can love.

I know Burke will adapt to the changes just fine. But last night, as it hit me that we only have 10 weeks until our lives are forever changed, I had a wave of slightly familiar nostalgia. Would I miss our life as just the 3 of us? I remembered having this same nostalgia not long before Burke was born, wondering if I would miss life as just a couple. And then I remembered just how much I don't miss life without him. In fact, I can hardly remember life without him. And I was reminded of just how awesome our lives have become now that we are parents. How much he's enriched our lives. And even when drop-dead exhausted, how much I love being his mama. And how much I'm going to love being mama to 2.

While I'm hoping Baby #2 stays nice and cozy until his or her due date, I know that whenever we meet this baby our hearts will love even more and our lives will be even more amazing. I am so thankful for my gifts, my little treasures.

{Photo credit goes once again to the amazing Ken Bruggeman. We had the opportunity to model for his first workshop and I'm so thankful he gave us these beautiful photos to treasure!}

Simple Things

Today I'm celebrating the simple things. Things like a solid night of sleep after 4 terribly long and sleepless nights spent comforting a sick baby boy. And things like a cloudy but rainless day. Rainy days are long days with a 16-month on-the-go little explorer boy and yesterday was a particularly long rainy day. And things like this cuteness so early in the morning:

 Waking up and cracking open freshly laid eggs from our own chickens certainly deserves celebration. Especially when cracking open a beautiful double-yolker! Our girls' eggs aren't quite up to market size {they are expected to lay an extra large egg} but I'd say they're getting close. Perhaps they're close to a large egg, which is light years bigger than the cute little pullet eggs we first collected a few weeks ago. In the photo below, the double-yolker is compared to one of the regular large-sized eggs that we've been collecting. I imagine it was quite a shock for the hen that laid that jumbo egg!

Another simple perk to my day was a lunch date with my mister. As a teacher, he gets just a quick 30-minute break each day to scarf down his coveted leftovers. Usually, he doesn't even have time to call home and say hello. But today, he was in special meetings {something to do with the math curriculum} and had the rare and luxurious privilege of taking an hour-long lunch break! With the driving, we really only got about 30 minutes of time together, but when you're used to nothing, something's great!

I would be remiss if I failed to mention my newly coveted stash of yarn. {I was a good girl in the yarn shop today...stuck to my list} My fingers are itching to craft a baby hospital hat for our #2 {no--we don't know what we're having so I'll be making 2 hats, each one suited for a different gender...} and a super stylin' sweater for my little man.

Oh, and aren't these just adorable?? I was super excited to find them in Burke's size at one of our local consignment shops. Perfect for helping me feed the chickens and playing in the barn with his Grammy's baby goats.

All this and the day's not even close to being over! I'm looking forward to enjoying the rest of the simple things that make me smile today. What are some of the simple things putting a smile on your face today?

22 Weeks Closer

To meeting Baby #2. It's funny, because this time around time seems to be flying past me at lightening speed and I often feel caught up in this whirlwind that is life. And yet I love that I am so busy living in the present that I don't have time to get trapped in the future. I remember being pregnant with Burke and thinking that it was the longest and slowest 40 weeks of my life. And now... Well I can't even begin to tell you where the first 22 weeks have gone. Yet here we are, 22 weeks closer to meeting our second little blessing.

 

On one hand, I find myself impatient for the arrival of this little one but for a surprising reason: I can't wait for Burke to have a playmate. A buddy. Someone other than a furry friend to play with. Some days, after pulling him out of the dogs' water bowl for the 10,000th time that day, I pray to God that Baby #2 hurries up and grows to a good 8-9 months so that he or she can begin learning from and providing entertainment for Burke. I know, I know. When the kids are fighting over a toy or getting a little too physical, I may wish for the dogs' water bowl again. But I'm here, not there {and maybe I'll be the lucky one to have 2 angels who never fight...please--let me be delusional for a moment}.

On the other hand, I pray that the next few months will pass by like molasses. Sweetly and slowly. I am nowhere close to ready for this child and I do enjoy feeling all of his or her secret movements on the inside. I'll never get tired of the kicks, somersaults, hiccups and punches to my bladder. With the blur of movement on the outside, I am so thankful that my baby constantly reminds me that he or she is there. Growing. Being. And not wanting to be left out even at 22 weeks of gestation. It's almost like we share a fascinating secret as I'm doing life on the outside but conscious of the little tap tap thump on the inside. And no matter how quickly or slowly 9 months passes, I am so thankful that I get to partake in these beautiful moments.