{finola's birth story} part 3 : the short, sweet and painful labor

{part 1}

{part 2}

The drive to the hospital was as uncomfortable as you might imagine. 

Only a fifteen minute drive, but with the road construction bumps it felt like forever.  For some reason I felt like Hubby was hitting every one on purpose, and I grew increasingly agitated.  Not yelling at him, but talking in a very slow, very low, very annoyed voice, "You need to slow down.  You cannot go over bumps when I am having a contraction."  

So I think he drove about fifty miles/hour the whole way there.

My contractions were getting much closer together - maybe a minute and a half apart.

We got to the hospital around 8pm.  Our doula, Eileen, was waiting at the main entrance for us, as we had discussed perhaps walking around outside before going in to check in.

Clearly no time for that now.  After she helped me breath, lean and sway through one contraction outside we both knew we better get inside - and fast.  

We went to triage, where apparently everyone agreed just by looking at me and learning I had been 6cm before beginning labor that we didn't have time for trivial things like paperwork and consent forms.

All paperwork was skipped.

They hurriedly got me to a room with a birthing tub, which was also on my 'birth plan.'  They started filling it up, even though my doula kept telling them there would be no time for the tub.  

Maybe the shower, she told me...but seemed doubtful.

I probably had about 4 strong contractions just on the walk to the room alone.  The elevator one was especially fun.

In between contractions I was still pretty okay at this point.  Not super exhausted.  I was able to communicate and even smile a little!  Some female hospital workers outside my room as I was being ushered in with my entourage of nurses, doula, hubby, and midwife (who had just arrived) remarked, "You look way too cute to be in labor!"  I guess because I was still in my cute shopping clothes, sunglasses perched on my head, and brave smile on between contractions. 

The nurse, Autumn, asked me if I had something specific I wanted to wear during my labor.  I had brought a simple black cotton maxi dress so they helped me into that.  I was then put on the delivery bed so my cervix could be checked by Trish, the midwife who would be delivering my baby.  I was glad it was her.  Her calm and very matter-of-fact demeanor gave me added confidence.  

She checked me, and not surprisingly I was at 9cm.  "I could easily stretch you to 10, though.  Your cervix is very soft."  

This was music to my ears, particularly after being stuck at 8cm for literally hours during my last labor, while having contractions at the same frequency/intensity that I was now.  

They stopped filling the tub.  The idea of the shower was abandoned.  This baby did not require any hydrotherapy, clearly.

I labored laying on my side on the bed for a little while, which was fine, but then I asked if I should switch positions.  My doula suggested I try getting into an "all fours" position, so I slowly moved up onto my hands and knees.  

Ow!  That was ten times more painful!  

Then I decided I did not want my cute "labor dress" on.  "I would rather be naked!" I declared.   So off came the dress, with the help of nurse and doula.   

I was extremely warm.  I felt feverish.  I told them.  I also felt like I was going to throw up.  Wave after wave of nausea hit me between the contractions, now about a minute apart it seemed and definitely at a 9 on my pain scale.  I remembered this pain from labor with Cormac.  

Someone got me a pink plastic bowl to vomit in if I needed to.

I gripped Paul's hand, and he said quiet, encouraging words after I made it through each contraction.  His words were perfect...

...but I needed silence.  (Sorry babe.)  

"Just hold my hand.  That is all I need you to do.  Just be here." I told him, keeping my voice as even and quiet as possible.

So then, because I was so hot, he was given a fan to fan me with.  That was perfect.  

I was also given cold towels to put on my forehead and the back of my neck.  They felt so good, as I was seriously burning up.  And still very nauseous.

In my mind I was pretty grateful for these symptoms, as I remembered reading that when you hit transition {getting to 10cm and you body being ready to push} that some women feel nauseous and feverish.  So I was comforted by it and actually encouraged to keep going!

I was no longer silent during contractions.  I was instinctively making low groans throughout the entire minute of extreme pain.  The consistent, loud, even sound coming out of my mouth helped me focus and sort of lulled my brain during each one.  I also had covered my eyes with one of the cold towels.  I held it over my eyes with one hand.  I didn't want to look at anyone.  I just wanted to get through each contraction.

I just wanted to get this over with.  I wanted the baby out.  I wanted sweet relief from the pain.

It must have been about 8:40pm when I transitioned and was ready to push.  {since my doula took the below photograph - am I right Eileen?} 

I think it was Eileen that said to me quietly, "You will start to feel an urge to push during each contraction, Greta.  When you feel that you need to bear down and focus all your energy on pushing the baby out."  This is not verbatim, but it was something to that effect.  

I had no idea what they were talking about.  My "push process" with Cormac lasted several hours, with a super-strength epidural, and a lot of "1-2-3 puuuuuush!" when I guessed I was having a contraction.

No counting this time.  Just me feeling "the urge" and "bearing down."

I was also encouraged to make "low noises" during the push.  

I felt confused and yes, a little scared.  I had no clue what I was doing.  

I asked several times, "Should I change positions?  Should I be squatting?" since I had read that squatting was the most natural position for a woman to deliver a baby.  

"Greta, this is a beautiful position for birthing a baby.  If you are comfortable stay right here."  This was referring to the side-lying position I was in, and had been my entire labor at the hospital - a mere 45 minutes so far.

During the next contraction, which was probably now an 11 on my pain scale, I waited for what I thought was the "high point" of the contraction and tried to "bear down."  It didn't feel like I was doing it right, and I ended up just breathing too fast and kind of hyperventilating.

"Slow down your breathing, Greta.  Calm your breathing for your baby."  That was my nurse Autumn.  She was pretty awesome throughout the whole thing.  (Funny how I can't remember any of the nurses, or much of anything at all, from my hospital experience with Cormac.  Everything about this labor seems crystal clear.)

I knew I could do better.  The next contraction I tried to focus all my energy "down there" and imagine throughout that the baby was emerging.  Also, someone said to "bear down like I was having a bowel movement."   Even though that sounded disgusting and it made me realize why so many women are said to "poop on the table" during labor -- I knew I had to do what they said.

So I followed the instruction - and boy was that embarrassing and uncomfortable!   But, it also felt like I had done it right.  I felt like the baby's head was there, where it was supposed to be, ready to come out!

Also, I felt like the whole area "down there" was on fire.  The "ring of fire" that I had read about!  I was close!

"Greta, just a couple more pushes and your baby will be out," my midwife Trish stated calmly, and this sentiment was echoed by my doula.  I was encouraged.  I felt baby coming out.

It was painful and probably the oddest thing I have ever been through.  While the contractions were hard, pushing was harder and I actually had to work to do it.

I really just wanted to be done, so I did everything they told me, still with my eyes covered with the towel, my naked body contorted, knees being pushed up by my head, sometimes with me holding them there.

"Curl your body around your baby when you push!" "Focus your breath!"  "Imagine Baby coming out!" 

At one point I said exhaustedly, "I don't think I can do this."  Of course, this was met with disagreement from all present parties.  I was kind of at the point of no return, anyway.

The mood in the room was excited and high-energy - I didn't need to see anyones faces to know that.  I kind of felt like an animal on the table.  The whole thing was completely animalistic - me naked, growling with a loudness and power I had never felt before.  

Then came the final push - after only about 15-20 minutes of pushing.  The baby's head finally emerged, followed quickly by the rest of the body.  9:12pm.

It was the best feeling.  Ever.  The baby coming out.  The ultimate relief.  Seeing for the first time the little human who was housed in my body for nearly 39 weeks.  I saw the white umbilical cord, attaching us to each other still.  I wanted the cord to pulse out before it was cut, so we stayed attached until that happened.

Also, Paul was to announce the gender.  So he fumbled around with the wriggly, purple, crying little one, to see what "it" was.

"Its...a girl!" he announced surprisedly.

I was completely shocked.  Even while pushing I was envisioning a boy, even thinking his name in my head for motivation.  I had to look for myself to believe it.  The umbilical cord was slightly blocking my view, but it was moved aside and I saw that yes, she was definitely a girl!

I was awash with happy emotions over this, and in general.  She was handed to me for our 'golden hour' of skin-to-skin time.  I immediately started blubbering, "My little girl!  My beautiful baby girl!" over and over.  

I felt ecstatically happy about everything!  On a complete hormone high.  I felt like I could do anything, and loved everyone.  I cuddled my vernix-covered, slimy, beautiful baby girl.

Finally the umbilical cord finished pulsing and Paul did the symbolic cutting of the cord.

so thankful for these ladies - midwife trish, nurse autumn and doula eileen - for making the experience perfect.

our golden hour together - and feeding her the first time

So that is my story - the end of my pregnancy, my time with Finola inside me.  Together we survived super awful morning sickness, two violent bouts of the stomach flu, a fall down the basement steps, a kitchen renovation, pregnancy depression, a toddler constantly kicking and whacking my tummy, and five days a week at the gym.  Whew - it was one long pregnancy.

Now we face all new challenges together, and I feel so much more confident and prepared to tackle them.

I feel overwhelmed with happiness over how this birth went.  After my first experience I really desired a natural birth, and this could not have gone any better.  My birth plan went out the window - and I am thankful for that this time.  God made it go quickly and I feel very fortunate to have gone through it.

***Thank you to my doula Eileen for capturing most of these moments with my camera.  I will treasure them always.***

g

{finola's birth story} part 2 : the 'real deal'

(part 1)

The day Finola was born was a Sunday.
Since 3:42pm on Saturday I had been having consistent and much more uncomfortable Braxton-Hicks contractions.  Since they weren't stopping I kind of knew something was happening...but they also weren't getting any stronger so I wasn't about to rush to the hospital.  Paul kept asking, "Are you having contractions? Is it going to be today?"  All excited.  I could only clutch my gigantic uncomfortable rock of a tummy and respond, "Who knows?" as I had all the other times he had asked.

We went to church. I prayed for strength during labor and, honestly, strength during the next year of raising two little ones.  I knew I would need it!

Paul and I chatted afterward about the names - were we still 100%?  We wrote out the names, even tried out different spellings of each one.  But, in the end, both liked our original choices.  Boy or girl, we knew what the babe would be named.

When I put Cormac down for his nap that afternoon the BH contractions stopped, which had me puzzled.  Maybe today isn't the day after all, I mused.  Then I decided to take a nap, given my body had relaxed enough to do that.  Pretty amazing how your body knows you need to rest up for something, right?  It is as if it knew I needed the extra rest and energy for what was to soon come.  And I mean very soon.

Immediately after my nap the BH contractions began again.

At around 4pm, after Cormac was up, I bid Hubby and him goodbye and I headed out for my normal Sunday afternoon "me time" - when I get to go out by myself, shop or do whatever I'd like.  Hubby asked if it was really a good idea to do this since I was having the consistent yet mild contractions and I had responded, "Absolutely!  It might be my last chance in quite a while!"

So off I went.  First stop - Babies R Us.  I wandered around, talked on the phone, texted Hubby, picked out a bunch of cute baby girl outfits, and timed my contractions.  8-10 minutes apart.  Still very mild.

After filling my basket with sweet baby girl things I sighed and put them all back, deciding the baby would probably be a boy and I didn't know when I'd have time/energy to return all of it.

I left the store emptyhanded and headed next door to Michael's craft store.  I purchased Cormac a bunch of fun, cheap, outdoor toys and games as sort of a "big brother gift."  Things I knew he'd like and we could entertain ourselves with in the backyard.  I left the store feeling happy.  Oh, and slightly more uncomfortable.

Then I went to the next store in the strip - Half Price Books.  This is where things got real.  I had barely walked in when I felt my first real contraction.  I stopped short, gasped a little, and breathed through it.  I noted the time - 5:45pm exactly.   The contraction lasted about thirty seconds but was different than anything I had felt prior to.  I continued to shop, not wanting to jump the gun.  Six minutes later I felt it again.  Then six minutes later.  I began to get excited!  Consistency!  Actual pressure!  I remembered this particlar pain from last time.

Despite all the 'contraction distraction' I purchased a couple things and headed back to my car, continuing to track the increasingly painful and uncomfortable contractions.  They hurt but I would say were only about a 5 on the pain scale.  I could still drive and function.

Here are my texts with Hubby, for your enjoyment, and for me to marvel at how quickly things progressed.  As you can see, Hubby didn't really think it was "the day" - which he now says was reverse psychology....

I called my friend Melissa.  She would be the one coming to our house to watch Cormac when we went to the hospital until Paul's parents could come take over.  I excitedly told her that I thought it was the real deal...but I'd give it another twenty minutes of timing them and call her back to confirm.

The contractions continued as I drove home, and I called my doula.  She said to call her as soon as my friend got there to watch my son and we would meet at the hospital.  She did not think there was any time to labor at home.  (There went my birth "plan!")

My twenty minute drive home was a blur of contractions and phone calls.

I called Paul and told him it was time.  He was completely excited and said he would start loading up the car. I confirmed with Melissa that yes, I was in labor, and she should head over.

I called my midwives' office and left a message and Trish, who I mainly saw, was on call and got back to me within minutes.  I told her we would be on our way and reminded her I was at 6cm at my last check.

By the time Melissa got to our house we were packed and I was nearing a 7 on my pain tolerance scale.  I had to lean on something and brace through the pain, swaying, and completely silent.

I knew we had to hurry.  Baby was coming.  It was about 7:30pm.  I kissed Cormac about twenty times, knowing he didn't understand and probably thought I was crazy.  But I kissed him and hugged him tight and smelled his hair and finally let him go as he tried to wriggle out of my arms.

My last time seeing him as my only baby.

Then we rushed out the door.

Next up: 

part 3 - {the short, sweet, and painful labor}
g

the first week details - a sleeping baby!

Any mother who has just given birth realizes that the first week with a newborn is all about sleep.  Not necessarily you getting any sleep, but the baby sleeping a lot and you figuring out how to try to get some.

The very first night/day after birth you are tricked into thinking all your baby will do is sleep.   Because that is what they do!

My first night with Finola I got no sleep - maybe one or two hours.  Not because she was awake and keeping me up...but because I had just given birth and was SO EXCITED!  I think once the three of us got settled in our recovery suite {term used loosely} all I did all night was hold her, stare at her, and smile a ridiculously goofy smile, daydreaming about my new and unexpected life as a 'girl mama' and going over the details of the birth about a million times in my mind. 

She barely made a peep, except a few squeaks here and there {she squeaks a lot!}  I tried to wake her up to nurse every couple hours as was recommended to me by the nurses, but she was so zonked out from her trip down the birth canal that it was hard to get her all that interested in breastfeeding.  Unlike last time I wasn't too worried about this.  She would eat when she was ready.

she slept the entire first day

 I was totally okay getting zero sleep that night.  I was running high on adrenaline and happy 'birth hormones.' 

I just enjoyed the silence, and, like I said, smiled and stared at her.

The second night was a whole different story - entitled "cluster feeding."  This apparently is when your newly born babe wants to be at the breast ALL. THE. TIME.  So no sleep that night either for this mama.  She would scream every time she left the breast.  She was voracious, even though I didn't have any milk to give her yet and I was sure the colostrom had been gobbled up hours ago.  So I just kept chugging down the water in my "sippy cup" that the nurses kept refilling and putting her to breast.   I got sort of frustrated at one point just because I was feeling bad she wasn't being satisfied.  So after annoying the nurses for a while with my "is this normal?" question I then called in the lactation consultant on duty for more reassurance.  She, like everyone else, assured me that this was typical healthy newborn behavior and that Finola was simply doing her part to get my milk to come in and be of good supply.  That made me feel better.  Team effort.  Then I picked the lactation consultant's brain with any question I could think of.  Even some I knew the answer to but just wanted to hear it again.  I'm sure she loved me.

We went home after 36 hours in the hospital, anxious to get to the comforts of our own house and begin life with the new baby.

mommy's girl

dressed in her 'going home' outfit - and even an open eyelid!

ladies in pink - ready to head home!  felt a lot less scared during this 'wheelchair ride.'

And honestly, the first week has been great.  Newborns sleep a LOT at this point.  And after just having gone through this less than two years ago with Cormac I have been pretty confident and laid back about everything, instead of the bundle of anxiety and nerves and "am I doing this right???" craziness I was with him.

Finola is a very sweet baby so far.  She doesn't cry unless having her diaper changed.  My milk came in after three days and I feed her every 2-3 hours no matter what, so she barely has to cry for food.She eats, poops, and sleeps for hours at a time throughout the day and night.  Very typical newborn.  

She goes through a few hours in the late evening when she is awake for a stretch.  Dada is usually in charge then and he plays with her {um, as much as you can 'play' with a newborn...more like 'interact.'}When she is awake I can set her in the bouncy, or the carseat, or on her tummy time play mat and she might squawk and squeak but doesn't cry.  She is awesome in the car and slept through church like a champ.

She seems easier than Cormac was...but maybe we just know better how to handle things?

I know this will change.  I know around three weeks she will cluster feed again and cry more and have her "witching hours" where nothing will please her and we will wonder what we are doing wrong.

But for now, I will enjoy my peaceful, quiet, squeaking, gassy baby.  

Dada seems to get a lot of sleep. 

The adoring older bro. 

 He has been great with her so far.  Poked her in the ear once...but other than that...

I love this one.  I was like, 

"Okay, everyone pretend to be sleeping!"  

Finola is the most convincing.

"Who is this guy?  He sleeps as much as I do!"  

{just kidding, babe}

This expression pretty much sums up what she thinks of being awake...

All that being said - while she sleeps a lot...I don't, not really.  I still have to wake up every 1-3 hours at night to feed her.  So I'll get about 5-6 hours of very interrupted sleep.  I will maybe sleep a little during Cormac's nap, and I try to at least sit down and take it easy a lot during the day.  Breastfeeding is good for that!

I am not complaining.  I  knew what I signed up for.  This ain't my first rodeo.  :)

The next six-eight weeks we will be in 'survival mode' while her sleep regularizes and hopefully between weeks six and eight she will start sleeping a longer period of time during the night, giving mama and dada some quality sleep.

Til then, I am gonna rock the dark-circles, zombie expression, new-mama look the best I can.

and keep reminding myself how precious this time is,

and how quickly it goes.

g

{finola's birth story} part 1 : the 'plan'

I guess you could say this birth story started weeks {months?} before the birth.  My body decided to start laboring rather early.  I began having Braxton-Hicks contractions at around thirty weeks.  This painless tightening of my uterus got progressively stronger and more frequent as I moved into my last month of pregnancy.  At 36 weeks my cervix was checked for the first time at my regular midwife appointment and I was expecting maybe 2 cm, since I had also had Braxton-Hicks early in my first pregnancy.

Wrong - 4 centimeters dilated. 

The midwife seemed pretty surprised but told me not to get too excited because it was not unheard of for someone dilated this much, this early to still go until their due date.  She didn't seem overly concerned.

At 37 weeks I was 5 centimeters dilated.  At 38 weeks I was 5-6.

Each week I got a similar warning from whichever midwife checked me: When you do go into labor get to the hospital - fast.

Of course, other people I shared this with had their own helpful versions of this, such as:  "Keep your legs crossed - that baby is going to fall out!"  and "Make sure your midwife is good at catching babies!" and "Don't sneeze!"

Naturally my mind was in a tailspin of worries revolving around not having someone able to come watch Cormac in time, the baby being born in the car, etc.  But I wasn't having any painful, "real" labor contractions and my 'plan' was to labor at home as long as possible, going to the hospital only when I thought the birth was close.

Oh, the 'plan.'  I'm not referring to my written birth plan, which was pretty succinct and typical of anyone desiring a natural birth.   In essence - no drugs, no time limit, desiring use of hydrotherapy and a calm, low-key birth environment.

No, I am talking about the daydream of birth that all mother's conjure up in their mind: they way they "want" things to go.

My daydream looked like this:

I was going into this with eyes wide open this time.  I envisioned another long labor. {Read here about my labor with Cormac.} I also fully expected another posterior-positioned baby, which would make the process even longer and more painful because of the back labor that typically goes along with that.  Because I thought things would go just like last time, long and painful and possibly stalling at 8cm because of the posterior positioning...we had hired an experienced doula for additional support through the process.

In my mind I saw us {she, myself and paul} going through most of the labor process at home, using the tub and shower for hydrotherapy.  I would listen to my birth music.  I would eat my protein-packed arsenal of  light snacks for added boosts of energy and drink water throughout.  I would power through those early contractions in a calm and loving home atmosphere, struggle heroically through the stronger ones, and then get to the hospital at just the right moment to finish off the transition stage of labor and push this little baby out!

I would run this marathon of a birth like a champ.  At least that was my hope.

But, as usual, God had his own 'birth plan' in the works...

{Spoiler: His was way better than mine.}

up next...

part 2 : the 'real deal'

g

{it's a - !}

Happily introducing
 our little baby girl...

Finola Wilder Ford

Born May 19 at 9:12pm

7lbs 7oz

19 inches

If you have been following my pregnancy, you know that a 'girl' came as a surprise to this mama.  

But, let's face it, this whole pregnancy has been a surprise!

A very lovely surprise.

She is absolutely beautiful...

Both mama and babe are healthy and thankful.

More photos to come.

And a birth story.

So excited to share!

g

mama confessions : labor can wait

Your last few weeks of pregnancy are definitely the most irritating.  

in the nursery. it is mostly done.  my belly feels like a giant rock.

I remember last pregnancy I just wanted the baby to come.  I, like every first time mom, kept lamenting how I was SO ready to meet my baby boy, and begin this new chapter of life.

But you are never really ready.  I was NOT ready.  I think this "readiness feeling" is our mind/body playing a fun trick on us new mamas...to help us at least "feel" prepared for labor.  Funny how after labor your hormones make you feel all crazy, like 'life will never be the same!' and you may cry randomly over everything, including the loss of your former baby-free life.

(Just keep telling yourself, "It is only the hormones.  I will feel normal again!")

Yes, the "new chapter" is amazing...but mamas...please enjoy those last few weeks sans kiddos!  Go on those fun, unexpected movie dates.  Hang out with your girlfriends by the pool and chat.  Or go to restaurants as often as possible.  You have NO idea what is coming.

Movie dates will soon be a luxury that rarely happen, especially if you are breastfeeding.  Girlfriend dates to the pool will involve your post-baby belly, and a tot that may not really want to hang out at the pool at all.  And may scream.  And WILL poop.  PS: wet swimmie diaps are super fun to change in a soggy pool bathroom.  Just sayin'.

And restaurants?  Ha.  Hope you are ready for your beautiful babe to cry, need to be fed, interrupt every conversation you have, and throw things.  Yes, they will throw things.  A lot.  Try having a meaningful conversation with your spoon being chucked to the ground or rice puffs being flung at your face.

Don't get me wrong - motherhood is beautiful.  I love it, quite honestly.  But it sure ain't easy, by any stretch.

This time around, my second pregnancy, the last few weeks are still irritating...but for different reasons. I am not hoping to go into labor anytime soon.  I would gladly accept an appearance on or even a few days after my due date.

But I'm 5cm dilated...and not in labor (well, the "real deal" kind.)  I have contractions every once in a while (besides the Braxton-Hicks) but they go away after an hour of consistency and me praying that I'm really not yet in labor.

Why am I dreading labor?  It's not really the pain.  More the knowing how much harder life is going to get.  Juggling two babies.  One who is not yet two and teething and has been throwing tantrums like a rock star lately.  One who we tried to transition to a big boy bed, then realized after three weeks of him waking up super early and zombie-walking around until he found us, being cranky from his self-induced tiredness, and thereby making us zombie-walking parents.  We realized he was definitely NOT ready for a big, unconfined bed...so we chucked out the cash for another crib.  Life has been lovely for all since.  Lesson learned.

Also, it is the fear that each sweet, private moment with my son is my last. 

Every morning, when I get to go into his room to scoop him up and sing my 'good morning song,' I am grateful.  Grateful for another day of just him and me, before things get a lot more crazy.

Every night when I put Cormac to bed I wonder if I really will "see {him} in the morning light" as I always tell him while gently pushing the blonde hair off his forehead.   Or, rather, will I be at the hospital, and he will wake up with someone else there to take care of him, his world about to be rocked with a brand new sibling?

That is why, for now, labor can wait.  Gonna enjoy every sweet moment as a mama-of-one that I get.

g

sweet somethings : mama's day

Thought I might take a moment to muse on my Mother's Day.
My second one, and just as beautiful as the first.  This day has now surpassed Valentine's Day in my mind, as it is not just celebrating the love my Hubby and I  have for each other, but it is that, as well as the mutual love between myself and my baby {soon to be babies.}  And that which I have for my own mother.  And I get to see the love and respect my husband has for his mother.  All these things are awesome in my book.

Plus, the weather is usually warmer on Mother's Day compared to V-Day.  Added bonus!

mama's day quote...and my new entryway bench!

Quick recap of the weekend: Carnival on Saturday evening (after a day of cleaning and house projects) with the boy and Hubby, where they rode the kiddo rides and I ate funnel cake and took photos like a good mamarazzi would.  Church on Sunday...but a later service than usual, since Cormac blessed us with an extra hour of sleep - yay!  The church was packed with beautiful mamas clutching carnations given out, wearing pretty dresses and getting their photos taken with their children.  Was a lovely service and a lovely scene to behold.  After church the three of us went to the local downtown farmer's market and had brunch and walked around, buying a few yummy things along the way.  Went home for kiddo's nap, and did some final prep for our soon-arriving guests.  Then we met Hubby's mama and a whole crew of his other relatives over at a shopping/dining area a block from our house.  Entertained Cormac at an arcade since sadly our boat ride plan fell through, then had a lovely German feast at our favorite nearby restaurant.

Ended the day with gift opening, desserts and coffee back at our place.

I did not go into labor on Mother's Day as I had predicted.  But had some lovely, uncomfortable contractions as we walked around,  just to get everyone excited.  :D

I made fudge brownie batter cupcakes and mini fruit pizzas for our mother's day guests to eat back at our place

from hubby to two of the mamas in his life

flowers from the hubby...love hydrangeas

flowers for hubby's mama...also gorg!

since I am super preggo I couldn't ride any rides at little carnie on saturday night...but I loved watching my two guys enjoy themselves!  oh, and I did eat a giant funnel cake. 

um, both hands on the wheel, son!

that's my kiddo - totally in love with him!

Grandma BB driving a Hummer at the arcade...priceless!

I think I told little Cormac about a thousand times that day, quietly in his ear or looking into his blue eyes, how happy I am to be his mama.  I know I make mistakes.  I feel like a failure on a regular basis.  I am completely petrified I won't be too great at handling two little ones.  But...I also know God put me in this role and with these specific kiddos for a reason, and although I am not perfect {no mama is} I am so thankful for each moment I have with the title 'mama.'

Such a sweet and special weekend!  

Much love to all you mamas out there...

you are doing a GREAT job!!!!!
g