Two Weeks with Malcom

We've had a great first two weeks with baby Malcom! Today he had his two-week check up and everything looks great; in fact, he put on 13 ounces in 10 days (since the check up four days after he was born)! He's put on almost 1 pound since we left the hospital! The doctor was very impressed.

Malcom has slowly started to figure out that pooping in the middle of the night is not ideal; I really hope that is a trend that keeps up because I don't like getting up to change 3 poopie diapers when I should be snuggled in my bed. And that's in addition to all the feedings. He sleeps in bed with me most of the night because he wants to eat a lot and it's the fastest and best way to put/keep him a asleep. I love my sleep, especially when I'm waking up frequently. In addition to Malcom's wake-ups, Vivi has recently decided she wants to wake up a lot in the middle of the night, too. What the heck? She hasn't done that since she got settled into her new room! Sigh.

Vivi loves to hold baby Malcom. She's really good at giving him kisses and her idea of giving Malcom a 'little hug' is putting her head on his tummy. Vivi is so cute because she also likes holding his hand and sometimes she'll grab his hand and then put her thumb in her mouth and try to snuggle with him. She doesn't call him Malcom, it's always 'baby brother' or 'baby Malcom.' I think I've got her trained to say "Shhhhh, shhhhh, it's ok baby Malcom" whenever he screams/cries, instead of what she used to yell, 'Stop it baby! Stop crying!' In fact, she did that all throughout the grocery store while we were shopping and he was crying. It was really sweet because I didn't even have to remind her not to yell at him :)

Vivi's also very protective of him, including getting up in a girl's face at the park who was trying to lift the blanket on his car seat to see him. She ran over and put her finger in the girls face and said "Don't touch it!! Don't touch it!! He's sleeping!" The girl looked scared...and she should've been; I thought Vivi was going to push or hit her for sure. There have been lots of other times where people will touch his face and she yells "No touch his face!" because that's what we tell her. Or they ask to see him or hold him and she tells them no. Ok, that last one could be out of jealousy sometimes, but sometimes it's her being protective. :)

We love having Malcom in our home. He is such  sweet little baby and really only gets upset when he's hungry or poopie. We love the spirit he brings into our home. He's an amazing boy.

He's Here!!!!

To celebrate Malcom's one week birthday, here's a little birth story.

Off to her 3rd wedding, the Love wedding :)

The night of my last post about Vivienne's amazing flower girl abilities (she completed her third and last wedding this past weekend), I went into labor and just a few hours later, Malcom Douglas Harrington was born! Actually, I'm pretty sure I was contracting as I finished up the post :)

I had my 39 week appointment on Wednesday where my doctor said I was pretty ready (almost 4 cm and 80% effaced, compared to 2 cm the week before, which is a big jump), so she offered to strip my membranes. Wanting to speed up the process because of my great discomfort, I took her up on her offer. While I'd read that some women found the procedure really painful, I found it only as uncomfortable as a regular exam. If it's going to stimulate labor, it will work in about 24-48 hours.

It took me six hours.

I had some cramping that afternoon as we went to the beach and I frantically completed things on my 'to-do' list realizing the baby could be here in the next day (sweeping, mopping, sorting the mail, etc). Around 9pm (while I was blogging), I heard/felt a 'pop' in my pelvis and realized my water had probably broke just a little. By 9:30pm I was contracting every 5 minutes and Doug went upstairs to tell Marie (his grandma whose basement apartment we live in) that we were going to the hospital; by 10pm we were in the hospital.

As the contractions got more painful, I was physically reminded of my birth plan: EPIDURAL. The anesthesiologist came and I had to sit up while I poked and prodded my back. He also made conversation, including asking me if my hair had red in it. I thought he was just quirky, but he explained the chemistry behind the fact that red-heads usually require a higher dosage of drugs (I don't remember exactly why). I thought that was interesting.

Until it turned out that my hair must have more red in it than we thought.

The first epidural just wasn't working. The pain was lessened, but definitely still there. The doctor stuck around to make sure it was working, so when it was obvious I was still in pain, he said, "You know, your just feeling more than I would like, so let's do this again."

Funny, I was thinking the same thing. So, we did it all again and this time it worked! I love me a good epidural. I was still able to feel and slightly move my legs, but no pain. Yay! The nurses encouraged me to take a nap, which I did for about a 45 minutes until they came to check on me. They asked me to roll over and, as I did, my water totally broke (I felt a bigger pop in my belly, but nothing more because of the epidural) and the nurses had a little mess to clean up. Right after that they checked me and said, "Oh, it's time to push!"

Very quickly my bed and room was reorganized and new equipment brought in for the baby. It was weird going from sleeping to pushing in about 5 minutes. I only had to push for about 10-15 minutes and, apparently, the baby kept coming even when I wasn't pushing or contracting. He was so eager he 'oozed' out (that was the doctor's word); ok, that's a little gross, but I guess that's how eager Malcom was to come out! Doug moved down there in time to 'catch' Malcom and also cut the cord before putting him on my chest.

It was love at first sight. Malcom has an amazing head of hair, not unlike his sisters, except his is thicker, darker and lays flat (hers was all over the place). He also has the family cheeks (big). He looks just like Doug. He was 8 lb, 7 oz and 19 inches long (Vivi was 7 lb,8 oz and 19.5 inches).

Doug went home in the morning to bring Vivienne to the hospital and the first meeting between these two siblings was so sweet. She was timid as she first walked into the room wearing her 'Big Sister' t-shirt that I bought just for this occasion. She looked at my belly looking for baby brother and so I pointed to the bassinet where he was sleeping (a conscious decision so I could give her a hug if she wanted it, which she didn't because she was so preoccupied with the baby). Doug took Malcom out of the bassinet and asked Vivi if she wanted to kiss the baby. She said 'No, papa kiss it,' just so she would know it was ok. After Doug kissed him, then Vivi felt comfortable enough giving him a kiss.

Soon after, Vivi wanted to hold him. At first she was very good at listening to our instructions on how to be soft, but as she got more comfortable and excited about it (and closer to nap time), we found ourselves playing a lot of defense as she tried to point to his eyes and pat the top of his head. She heard a lot of 'No!!' which I think just frustrated her (and us) by the end of the visit. Luckily, we had more visitors to keep her distracted and help out.

This labor was shorter and easier than with Vivi and the recovery has been, too. Well, with one exception. I fought a fever for most of the weekend. Running hot and cold was pretty miserable, but other than I'm feeling really good (besides the usual tired stuff). My back was sore because of the epidural, but I had no tearing down there and everything went really smoothly. Plus, it produced an absolute angel of a baby, which makes it all worth it.

I love our growing family. Here's our first family picture just before we left the hospital.

Flower Power

We've had a busy summer and no one has been more in-demand that my little Vivi! Her unknown flower girls skills have been tested twice so far this summer and we've got one more wedding to go! She keeps getting better and better, but no one knows that except me. The only thing people can say is, "She's soooo cute!" And it's true.

Here she is posing for Nana Anne before Stefanie and Joe's wedding.

 Almost a smile! She's wearing my mom's clip on earrings. No, she didn't wear them during the wedding.

 She made it down the aisle, didn't cry or refuse or anything! She did trip up the step to the stage and then fall down it on the way out (it was a big step and her dress is pretty long). But, she just continued on like a champ! It was a beautiful outdoor wedding in a vineyard.

The ceremony was short, but the day was long. The bridesmaids bribed her with Skittles I gave them to keep her happy and up on the stage...

The Hard Part

Today I realized (one of) the hardest parts about being a mom: you can't quit. You don't get to just walk out and take a break. The 'boss' that won't get off your back is a two year old and you can't just walk away from them. You can do everything in your power to try to make them happy, but at the end of the day, that temperamental little creature will probably still try to smack you in the face and you can't hit them back.

If this were a 'regular' job, today I would've demanded a raise, taken a mental health day, and/or quit. Instead, I had to clean up several messes, make several messes to be cleaned up tomorrow (because I'm not doing it tonight), make dinner, give her a shower that she refused to take, and put her in 4 'bummers' (timeouts) in 20 minutes for things like dumping her milk on the floor, hitting me, putting the hot pads in the garbage after I told her not to, etc.

At one point I sat in the bathroom with my swollen hands and feet, silently cursed the fact that I hate moving because of my huge 8 month pregnancy belly, can't deal with being a mom anymore, and gave up. I jealously thought of how my husband gets to leave every day to a job where he helps people...and gets paid to do it. I emotionally quit. I started yelling at her, threatening her with spankings and bed time, and cried. Mercifully, bedtime went relatively smoothly, but I am exhausted.

I know all moms think this stuff and have their days. I think today was so hard because I've had a lot of searing back pain, a SUPER long weekend (weddings, Seattle to Portland bike ride, driving about 400 miles, etc), and a very tired/opinionated two year old who broke eggs in the grocery store, then started hitting me, won't listen to me worth crap, and won't go play by herself and give me a frickin break. I just want to nest for the new baby in peace and all I managed to do today was go grocery shopping, clean the kitchen up in time to get it dirty for dinner, and start on organizing Doug's shoes (totally different story).

Finally, after she went to bed, I sat down and read my scriptures and this verse stuck out to me: "And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him." (Luke 22:43). I know the Lord loves me and will strengthen me. And I really hope he sends me an angel...I could use it.

Have Two Year Old, Will Travel...?!

We've been on vacation for the last few days. Of course a road trip is full of stops and go's. We had our share of standard meltdowns because she wanted to get out of the car, needed a nap, etc. We've also had a lot of fun pit stops, including a couple family reunions, trips to the LDS temples down here in Utah, lots of swimming, trip to the zoo, a horse-drawn carriage ride, and more.

However, we've also had some SERIOUS button pushing going on. For example, why would my daughter decide to put her chewed up food in my ear at dinner one evening?! I bent her over and spanked her butt right in front of the waitress (that was after not listening, running around, and other 'bad' behavior). Oh, and the time she threw my shoes and my towel (on two different occasions) in the pool even though I saw her walking toward the pool with them and told her the whole way to stop and not to throw them in. That earned her a 'bummer' (timeout) right there at the pool. Then there's the issue of getting her to hold our hand in the parking lot/crossing the street. Oh, and all the pinching and hitting that mostly seems to come my way...even though I 'bummer' her on it all the time.

I know it's part of her job description to throw fits and for the most part I just let her throw herself on the ground and don't give her a big reaction. But why do it when all we're trying to do is get on the elevator? She's making everyone wait and then when I try to get her, she runs away and we miss our ride to the lobby. I'm not exactly in the best shape to be chasing.

Did I mention she doesn't listen at all? I understand that's part of the two year old deal, but it really bothers me when she won't even listen when it comes to dangerous stuff like running into the parking lot or playing with outlets. How am I supposed to teach this girl without letting her get hit by a car (going very slowly) or electrocuted (haven't figured out how to make that one 'less' dangerous)? I know there's a way because many two year olds have graduated on to become three year olds and even happy four year olds. Ideas?

To me, the key is her putting the chewed-up food in my ear: it's about pushing boundaries, discovering what's acceptable and what's not. BUT. Come one. In my ear? Is it because we're traveling? Is it the sunshine and heat that she's never experienced before? Oy vey.

Dearest Baby Boy

A letter from mummy to baby boy Harrington due to be born Aug. 9.

Dearest Baby Boy Harrington,
You should be here in about two months and I am so excited to meet you. I hate to admit it, but sometimes I have to remind myself that I am excited to meet you and that you will bless my life with even more love than I already have. You will only be in my tummy for two more months (actually waaay longer than it sounds) and I just took my first 'belly' picture of you today. I think by this time with your sister, I'd had at least 2-3 pictures taken. It's not that I love you any less than your sister, it's just that...well, I'm fatter. Apparently, you only weigh four pounds and are the size of a large jicama (whatever that is); I've put on more than 30 pounds and my previously stretched abdominal muscles are letting you have your space. Not exactly something I want to remember forever. Besides, it's when you get here that all the important pictures will be taken.

About 32 weeks; don't look at my head.

Honestly, my precious baby boy, being pregnant the second time is not as fun as it was the first time. It's not your fault at all, and, so, I'm trying to be positive about it. But: my pelvis hurts a lot more and earlier than it did last time, which means mummy has been walking with a waddle the last several weeks; getting out of bed is physical test and, many times, very painful. I actually had to buy some Tums for heartburn a couple weeks ago (which I have only taken once, so you must have gotten the hint). My back pain has gotten better, but it's still more sore than it was with Vivienne. Not to mention I will have to spend most of the summer larger (and larger and larger) and not in charge seeing as you have a very bossy sister. Oh, and yesterday I got the worst charlie horse I ever had! I had to scream for your dad to come in from the bathroom so he could do SOMETHING (the little massage he gave worked). Again, totally not your fault, but I don't get charlie horses unless I'm pregnant.

That's the other major difference. I love feeling you move around knowing that you are sparking with life. But, I don't really get much of chance to just sit and enjoy it much because I'm also chasing your sister or just trying to fall asleep (you tend to get very active whenever I roll over). However, every time I feel you move, I am reassured knowing that you are in there and growing strong. Thank for those frequent reminders (seeing as it seems like you are ALWAYS moving).

I try not to complain and today I was reminded that in a tiny way, my sacrifice is similar to that of the sacrifice the Savior made for all of us. Through his physical pain we are all given life. On a much smaller scale, through my physical pain and discomfort I get to give you life. This realization was humbling and made me love you that much more. I don't know what we'll name you yet, but I know that you are mine and I love you more than you can understand. Your father and sister are also very excited to meet you. Your father wants me to tell you to enjoy the time you have left in heaven; learn as much as you can from your loving Father in Heaven and Christ. Bring that spirit here with you like your sister did. You have a loving family waiting here for you when you decide to make your appearance.

I'm tired of wondering what life will be like when you get here, how Vivienne will react to you actually being here (and taking her spot in our bed), what it will be like to have boy, and more! Get here as soon as you can, while still being as healthy and strong as possible. We are taking very seriously the responsibility we have to raise you up the right way, to prepare you for a mission, to be a good man, put your sister in her place, and more. We know we will have so much fun, too! I love you. See you sooner than I'm probably prepared for, but not soon enough as far as my body is concerned.

Always,
Mum

P.S. if there's anyway you can make the labor to come into this world easy on me (at least relatively painless and as short or shorter than your sister's), you'll get brownie points with me.

"...With My Face Towards Zion."

Today at church we had a wonderful lesson on hope based on a talk entitled "Hope" given by one of the LDS General Authorities (click the title of the talk to see the whole thing, which I recommend).

The teacher of the class opened by asking "What is the difference between 'faith' and 'hope'?" This question really made me think. This afternoon I went back and read the entire talk and found this statement to be the most helpful explanation: "faith is rooted in Jesus Christ. Hope centers in the Atonement. Charity is manifest in the 'pure love of Christ.'" To me it boils down to this: we have faith in what is, we hope in what can be.

The talk also mentions the story of a 73 year old Scottish woman who made the trek across the country to try to gather with the Saints in the Salt Lake Valley in 1856. This woman was a part of the ill-fated Martin Handcart company and died in North Dakota, not reaching her destination or family there in Zion.  Her last words illustrate the faith and hope that we can all have if we take the steps necessary and head in the right direction...even if we do not reach our goal. She said, "Tell John [her son in SLV] I died with my face toward Zion."

That story struck me. Despite all her suffering and sacrifice, she did not get the result she had worked so hard for or desired, but she did not curse God or ask why. She still had hope, rooted in her faith, and she gave it her all. She died with her looking toward Zion. As I reflected, I realized I can apply that in my daily life. I hope I can achieve all the righteous desires of my heart, but if I take the necessary steps and still don't quite make it, like this pioneer woman, I know that my 'face is towards Zion.' I would like to think that at the end of each day, I can lay my head down with my face toward Zion, even if things don't go perfectly and I don't get everything I want. One of the women in the class added, "This life is not the reward, this life is the test. We can do everything right and wonder where all our blessings are, but we need to remember that they may not come in this life because we are here to be tested. The rewards may not come until later."

This whole idea finished a thought that had occurred to me as I reflected on an unfortunate situation I find myself in. I worked very hard and got great results for many years on some stuff, but at the end of it things did not end quite as well or positively as I would have liked. It may in fact, negatively impact my future. But when I realized that I didn't do anything wrong or anything to regret, I knew the Lord would take care of me. I may not get the results that I originally desired, but knowing that I truly did the best I could and hoping for good things in the future, my face is towards Zion and I can be happy about it.

Elder Snow had a great quote about hope and hopes, "Hope can inspire dreams and spur us to realize those dreams. Hope alone, however, does not cause us to succeed. Many honorable hopes have gone unfulfilled, shipwrecked on the reefs of good intentions and laziness." LOVE that. How many unfinished projects or aspirations do we have that we have not achieved just because we didn't do it?! That really motivated me to stick with some projects that I have been tempted to abandon on the 'reefs of good intentions and laziness.'

Anyway, I'm not normally so preachy, but I was really inspired by this, so I thought I'd share.