Back to School Again: Looking Back and Looking Forward (PREAMBLE)

Hello dear readers,

As you may have noticed at this point, I don't tend to write on this blog very often. I usually leave that to Natalie, who usually has better things to say and better ways of saying them. What mysterious force has ended my long silence, you ask? Well, I'll tell you (He's going to tell!).

Yesterday was my last day working at ANICO (read: major life event/beginning of the next step on the path towards dentistry) and we celebrated by going out to lunch at Queens Barbecue. By we I mean myself, Natalie, baby James, my mother-in-law, and two of Natalie's cousins (Jonathan and Justin Viernes, epic ballers the both of them). I got myself a thing they call a Cliffhanger. It's basically a grilled cheese sandwich with chives, some special mayo sauce, and a great deal of glorious meat (Friday's special was ham). It's a meal I've had before, enjoyed yesterday, and look forward to eating again as frequently as my wallet and vital organs will allow. So anyways it was a good lunch.

I have recently been doing some work towards compiling a second Halloween mix and was talking about some of my recent and exciting finds over lunch when Jonathan asked me to send him the link to the first one because apparently he hasn't been reading every single post on this blog for the past three years. I mean, how can you expect to have decent lunch conversations with relatives if you haven't recently read every blog post they've ever made? Rude.

So Natalie went ahead and sent JJ (AKA Jonathan Viernes) the link to the post that I posted a few years back that included the link to the Halloween mix that I made. Turns out JJ didn't know I ever completed the mix, but to his credit he was present at the fateful/glorious moment when I discovered SOUL DRACULA, a terrible disco song that has changed my life. We were playing Monopoly at the time at the Gariby household. It was the middle of the summer in 2011. This is probably the only time in recorded history that something good has come of people playing Monopoly, if only due to the fact that I was so bored with the game that I was researching songs about vampires on my phone.

In conclusion, the reason I have broken my long blogging silence (or blogging long silence if you're keen on euphemism experimentation) is because at lunch the other day I had a conversation with my wife's cousin Jonathan (AKA JJ) regarding a blog post I posted on my blog a few years back. Now I'm watching my baby take his morning nap so he doesn't roll off the bed and so Natalie can eat some French toast I made. I pull out the volume of Neil Gaiman's The Sandman that I'm currently reading (Volume 6: World's End, whether or not you're curious). Before I start reading about the neo-mythological exploits of Dream incarnate, I decide to quickly read through the blog post that Natalie had shared on JJ's (AKA Jonathan's) Facebook. I remember that I had a lot of fun writing that particular post and this in turn decide that I should don my jetpack and shoot myself back up into the blogosphere. And here I am.

Wait - was this whole post just an explanation of why I'm writing it? Yes. Yes it was. Stay tuned for "Back to School Again: Looking Back and Looking Forward," which will likely do a better job of living up to the title!

PS - sorry for the relentless parentheticals (maybe somewhere I'm not scatterbrain). As always, thanks for spending some time catching up with our little family!

Sweet Baby James

As a new young mother, I have a lot of worries. I find my worries are like gnats buzzing around my thoughts-- there are tons of them just flitting past one another, interrupting my tasks throughout the day. But there is this one big monster-bug-sized worry that sort of bumbles through my mind, pushing the other little worries out of the way. And it's this: that I'll forget how sweet this time in my life is.

Isn't that a strange thing to worry about? Of all the many, MANY things I have to worry about (quick list off the top of my head-- school loans, going back to school, EYE SURGERY, health insurance, work), it seems silly to make one out of something tender and sweet. But honestly, of all the things that bring me concern the biggest one of all is that I will forget this wonderful period of motherhood where everything is new and different and exciting and scary and sweet almost all at once.

James will be eight months old on the 16th. We are already done with half of his first year of life! The time is racing by and I'm choking on the dust trail it's left behind. Why does this time have to go by so quickly?

Another list of things I don't want to forget:

• His soft, squishy arms and hands and the way they wrap around my neck when I carry him.
• His sheer, unapologetic excitement-- the way he feels his emotions fully throughout his whole body-- eyes wide, arms stretched out and hands shaking around, legs kicking, open-mouthed smile or squealing
• His baby babbling-- he can be quite the talker when he wants to be.
• The way he wants ME to hold him. Yes, this is frustrating at times (like when I'm trying to get out the door to go somewhere and he sees me leaving and starts crying and reaching out for me) but I cherish the realization that he feels safe with me, he is comfortable with me, he knows he can trust me.
• The way he refuses to feed himself his little cereal snacks. I pour them onto his tray so he can pick them up and eat them. He'll pick them up and hold them in his hand but then start fussing until I give him one. As soon as I pick one up, he leans forwards, reaches with both of his hands and guides my hand to his mouth.
• The day we made a breakthrough on his eating solid foods. This baby boy loves sweet potatoes! That day he opened his mouth wide for the spoon and hasn't looked back since then, except for yesterday when I tried to give him peas. His mouth clamped shut after the first bite dribbled down his chin and wouldn't open again except for a cereal snack.
• How he quiets as soon as we step outside together. He loves to watch the cars drive by on Ferry Road and listens intently to the birds in the our neighbor's old oak trees. When I open our front door with him in my arms, he reaches for the handle on our glass door to get outside.
• His absolute fascination with my cell phone. It doesn't matter how many toys he has in front of him, if my phone is anywhere in sight that is what he is going for. Yesterday we were playing with his toys on my bed and I couldn't find my phone. I was searching through the bedsheets and blankets for it when I turned around and saw him lying on his back after having fallen over, with a corner of the phone in his drooly wet mouth. I couldn't help but laugh.
• The way his little belly peeks out between his shirts and his pants.
• The way he looks in his hats. He doesn't mind wearing his wide-brimmed hats unless they cover up his eyes. He is so adorable in them.
• How he loves to stand on the couch, leaning his body against the back of it, looking out the window in our living room. If he had better balance, he would probably do that for hours on end.
• How he curls up onto his side when he sleeps now. He used to sleep sprawled out across his bed but now he bends his knees and rolls onto his side and stays in that position until he wakes up. 
• His interest in his peers. James is absolutely in love with babies. He often laughs out loud and squeals with delight when he sees other babies. It's so fun to watch him interact with them.
• Pudgy fingers wrapping around my own.

I'm so grateful I have this opportunity to be with James. He makes me slow down and appreciate little things I wouldn't notice otherwise. On one of our walks around the neighborhood one day, a squirrel ran across the street in front of us, grabbing James' attention. I stopped pushing his stroller and turned it to face the yard to where the squirrel had run. We watched the squirrel walk/run/hop around in this neighbor's yard. We saw his bushy tail wiggle and we watched as he climbed a tree and then ran behind the house out of sight. As we started walking again, I tried to remember the last time I had watched a squirrel shake his bushy tail around. I couldn't recall. I remembered watching squirrels on the playground in elementary school and I thought about how wonderful it is to be a part of these new experiences for my baby. 

Today we sat outside and I blew bubbles from a little bubble wand while James watched them float away. Every Easter I would get a bottle of bubbles in my Easter basket and then that afternoon, after our Easter egg hunt I would stand in our yard or our driveway blowing bubbles, watching them float up into the sky, wrestle to keep their shape in the wind, grow bigger and bigger until I was out of breath and had to blow it off the wand or until it popped in my face. Nostalgic of these memories, I decided to share my love of bubble blowing with my sweet baby James. At first he watched them just float away. Then he watched me blowing the bubbles, trying to reach for the wand. Then he would try to catch them as they floated past him. I felt a tinge of guilt each time he touched one to catch it and it popped. A city worker drove by in a service vehicle, slowing down to smile at us and I wondered what he was thinking when he saw us.

I hoped he could see this baby is well-loved, happy, and comfortable. 

I hope I never forget these days we spent together, just me and this sweet little baby who made me a mother.   

My Funny Valentine

James will be five months old this Sunday. Each month of his life has brought new experiences and joy to our lives. He grows every day and I sometimes look at him and find tears brimming on the edges of my eyes because I can’t believe how quickly this time is passing. There are so many things I want to hold onto but know that I can’t. I take pictures almost every day but they don’t capture his personality the way I want them too. His personality is so big it can’t be held in an image no matter how hard I try.

Things I don’t want to forget:

• The way he raises his eyebrows and opens his eyes wide when I do something that intrigues him momentarily.
• The way he smiles and turns his head shyly to the side.
• His full-bodied laugh.
• The way he excitedly kicks his legs out while in his jumper.
• The way he sleeps with his arms wide open.
• His snoring.
• The way he sinks into my arms when he’s just woken up but still drowsy.
• The way he always tries to eat his right hand as soon as I’m trying to pull his sleeve on.
• His (ridiculously loud) happy squeals.

Earlier this week I was worrying about how he hadn’t rolled over since right before he turned two months even though he should be mastering that skill right about now. I laid him on his belly, determined to work with him to get him to roll over. I held one of his toys in front of him to grab his attention and then moved it to the side and up above him, holding his gaze the entire time. As his eyes followed his toy, he moved his whole body to give it his full attention and he rolled over. Just like that. I laughed at how easy it was and rolled him back onto his tummy to try again. We did it another six times in a row before he started getting fussy. It was as though he’d been holding out on me until I started to worry and then it was all, “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got this.”  

It’s strange to me how a single month makes such a difference in James’ growth and development. I’ve had years pass that I’ve hardly noticed. This May it will have been seven years since I graduated high school and it feels like it was just yesterday I was a senior in high school singing in our Spring musical. Since James was born, I’ve taken more notice of the quick passage of time. His first month of life was so hard for me and I thought I would never reach that milestone. I was told it would be easier after the first six weeks and I was just waiting to get to that point. It finally came and, yes, it was easier. But ever since then, time has flown and that itty bitty baby I was so nervous to hold because he was so tiny and delicate has become this huge nineteen pound chunksters outgrowing all of his clothes before he can even wear some of them (we are moving into his 9 month clothes now). He’s changing and growing so quickly. My time with him as a baby feels like water I’ve cupped in my hands to drink slipping through the cracks in my fingers. I’m trying to get so much out of this time with him at this stage but I’m worried I’m losing time and I’ll end up thirsting for more when it’s all gone.

Don’t change a hair for me, not if you care for me.

Stay little Valentine stay. 

James' Birth Story Part 2

Click here for Part 1

I called Brenden. My mom called my dad and just about everyone else she knew. Brenden drove straight up from work as soon as we called. Dr. Hulme called the hospital so they could get prepared for my arrival. When we got there I knew it was going to be awhile before I could eat again if I was really going to have this baby today (I was still partially in denial), so we grabbed some sandwiches at the Subway near the Women's Atrium in the hospital. I felt this was okay because I followed Dr. Hulme's orders to go straight to the hospital, I simply didn't check in as quickly as he might have been expecting me to. After finishing half of my footlong, my mom and I went up to Observation where they told me Dr. Hulme wanted me in Labor and Delivery. Shortly after I arrived in my Labor and Delivery room, Brenden showed up. I decided it was okay to have this baby now. And somehow I think that psychological acceptance allowed the labor to start progressing. 

My first nurse was a former Scottish midwife. I gave her a copy of my birth plan. We went over it together and she was fully supportive of me choosing to go all-natural. My contractions had finally started coming closer together and with a stronger intensity I expected of labor. I found out my baby was occiput posterior, or face up. We needed him to turn so I was doing squats during my contractions. I was getting through them pretty well and utilized my trusty exercise ball too. My nurse's shift ended at 7pm and I had a new nurse come in who performed my next exam.

I was still at 6 cm. I had been laboring in the hospital for about 6 hours, give or take a few minutes, at that point. The contractions had become hard and painful but I wasn't progressing. The nurse informed me Dr. Hulme wanted to artificially rupture the membranes, in other words, break my water to help labor move along. He did and the contractions became stronger. And the medical interventions I wanted to avoid started creeping up.

I was tired. I had been awake for the past three nights. I was having a hard time doing the squats they recommended I do to get the baby to turn. My new nurse recommended I lie down on my side and hopefully he would turn with this new position. I hated laboring in bed but I also hated standing up and I knew I was too tired to keep doing squats so I decided to lie on my side to get this baby to turn. 

They hooked me up to an external fetal monitor to check the baby's heart rate as they had been doing off and on throughout the day but this time they couldn't find the heartbeat. They kept looking for it but couldn't find it. I realize now it was strange that I wasn't worried about this but I wasn't. Everyone else was concerned but I just figured the baby had shifted a bit (like we wanted) and his new position made it difficult to find the heartbeat. But because nurses and doctors aren't allowed to trust a mother's intuition, they insisted I have an internal fetal monitor set up. I was not happy about that. I didn't want them attaching anything to my baby's head before he'd even had a chance to come out. But they were insistent, they needed to find the heartbeat and so, with my permission, they inserted the internal fetal monitor. They found the baby's heartbeat, recorded his heart rate, and everything was fine (as fine as hard labor can be, that is). And when they pulled the little electrode back out, there were little baby hairs attached from where it sat on his head. My baby wasn't bald! I had a new wave of energy. I don't know why my baby having hair was so important to me but it was. Don't worry, I still think bald babies are cute too.

By my next exam I had only progressed 2 cm to a lovely 8 cm. And there I sat, at 8 cm, for much too long, both in my and my doctor's opinion. I had been having strong contractions for almost 72 hours (with basically no sleep) with about 8 of those hours in serious, hard pain. I was hysterical and I couldn't calm down. All my breathing techniques flew out the window with each sharp shallow breath. I lay there praying, begging for my labor to end. Dr. Hulme recommended pitocin and an epidural but I was adamant about no epidural and I didn't want any pitocin because I knew that would make the contractions even harder. I continued to labor out of control, exhausted but stubborn. 

After they checked my progress again and I was still sitting at 8 cm, Dr. Hulme strongly recommended I get an epidural and pitocin. I was no longer in control and I was completely, utterly exhausted. Finally I consented. And once I decided I wanted the epidural, the anesthesiologist couldn't come soon enough. I got the epidural and I got the pitocin. The pain relief came but I was still uncomfortable with each contraction, struggling to get through them. I could feel incredible pressure but I wasn't in pain. 

I got the epidural and pitocin around 9pm and I finally started dilating again. When it came time to push, I was so ready. Pushing was easy for me. It was a welcome change to the previous passive stage of labor. I was excited to push and finally get that baby into this world. 

I still remember the excitement in Brenden's voice when he told me he could see the baby's head. He was at my right side, my mom was at my left. I had never heard such excitement in his voice before. He was so happy and in awe of this miracle we were experiencing together. We were doing it. After a long, LONG labor, and a relatively short pushing stage, James Atticus entered the world. He was immediately whisked away to be weighed and measured and checked, something I had wanted to postpone so I could hold him immediately and begin breastfeeding (since, during my research, I learned this practice aided in more positive breastfeeding outcomes). But, you know, it didn't bother me as much as I thought it would and I hope that doesn't sound like I didn't care about him or didn't wanted to hold my new baby. I was just tired and he was here safe and sound, which was what I was really aiming for. 

He was here.

And he was crying and crying and crying. The nurse cleaned him off and handed him over to Brenden, while I remained in bed getting stitches (is that too much information?) Almost immediately as James was put in Brenden's arms, James quieted. I couldn't believe it. Did he know it was his father holding him? Could he sense Brenden's love for him simply in the way he cradled him?  

The bond was immediate but the bonding moment was shortened as the nurse realized James' breathing wasn't normal. She checked him again. They had to suction gunk (yes, that's the official medical term...) out of him. My poor baby was welcomed into this world with bright lights, beeping machines, and a suction tube. Because of his breathing problem, they wanted to take him straight to the nursery to be checked by a fetal maternal specialist. Brenden went with them to the nursery. And I still didn't get to hold my baby.

Everyone that had come to cheer me on and meet James, came into the room to keep me company for a bit before heading over to the nursery to see the baby. My mom stayed with me the entire time.   

After a couple hours, baby James was finally brought to me. 

I held this tiny baby in my arms, completely overwhelmed. I think part of my denial that I was in labor stemmed from deeper feelings of inadequacy and unpreparedness and those feelings came to surface again as I clumsily cradled my innocent, helpless new child. 

But he was perfect and this perfection was a reminder that I didn't create this baby on my own. I would never be able to create something, someone, so perfect in this world. Remembering my Father in Heaven's hand in my son's creation, I realized I would not have to raise him on my own either. 

I had seen James while they had cleaned him up immediately after the delivery and I could tell he was beautiful. But when I held him in my arms, I was struck by his perfection. The perfectly round head with brown hair. The miniature nose and chin. The sweet baby cheeks I had been longing to kiss for months now. The two pink lips with a dimple separating the bottom lip from his chin. He was beautiful. I couldn't believe he was mine. 

I held him close to me, marveling at his flawless features. 

I was in love. 

I was so in love with my James Atticus that it didn't bother me one bit when he pooped so much it leaked out of his diaper and down onto my arm. 

Hello to you too, sweet baby boy.

James' Birth Story Part 1

James was born on September 16, 2013 at 11:20pm. A healthy 19.75 inch long and 7 lb 8 oz baby boy came screaming into this world. With a nine on the Apgar scale and a head full of hair, our James was looking good.   

I've been wanting to share this story for a little over two months now but have never known how to share it or found the time to write it down. I still don't have the time to write it down, just FYI-- I'm losing sleep over this (a rare and precious commodity)-- but I really just felt like it was time to share it. So here I am, at almost midnight, typing away.

James' birth story really began about a week before his birth day. On September 9th, Brenden began his new job in Galveston. We had just moved into the spare bedroom in my parents' house the day before (which was my birthday) while we waited for the renovations on my childhood home to finish up for us to rent. I drove up to North Houston with my mom for my 37th week check up. I found out I was about 1.5 cm dilated and 40% effaced. After the appointment, I looked up pregnancy forums where moms wrote about when they went to labor after hearing similar news and determined I could go into labor anywhere between two days and four weeks. I was sure I was going to be late but nevertheless remained vigilant for any signs of labor. The next day I started timing contractions on an app on my cell phone. They weren't strong and came and went throughout the next three days. I didn't think they were anything more than Braxton-Hicks contractions. It wasn't until Friday night, when I could no longer sleep through them because they were too strong and coming much more regularly (about every 10-15 minutes apart) that I thought they might be something more.

Here I'll give a little bit of background on my preparation for this birth to provide context for what I did next. Brenden and I, and I deliberately included Brenden in this sentence, decided we would try for an all-natural childbirth. I knew if this was going to happen we would both have to be all-in and I would need Brenden's full support. We both did tons of research. We practiced the Bradley method in the weeks leading up to the birth. We wrote out a detailed birth plan. I even considered changing from seeing an ob/gyn to a midwife whose primary experience is with natural, uncomplicated births. However, because I was considered a high-risk pregnancy and because I really liked my ob/gyn, we stayed with him and went the hospital route. Everything I'd read basically said if I wanted an all-natural childbirth in a hospital where nurses and doctors generally push for medical interventions, I would need to labor at home for as long as possible before checking into the hospital. My doctor told me to check into the hospital when my contractions were about five minutes apart, lasting one minute in length for about an hour. My contractions never made that "requirement" and I labored at home, waiting for them to increase in frequency for as long as I could. 

I labored at home for about three days. And I imagine I would have labored at home even longer had I not had my 38th week check up on the morning of September 16th. 

I didn't really sleep much during those three days of labor. The contractions were too intense and occurring about 10-15 minutes apart. 

I woke Brenden up Saturday morning at 6am, after my first sleepless night, and asked him to take me out to breakfast. I really wanted some biscuits and gravy and I was too tired to make them myself so we got ready and headed out to ShyKatz, a delicious breakfast place and deli. We went back home where I was able to take a short nap. When we woke up again, Brenden started getting ready to go back up to Spring to back up some of our belongings we left at his parents house during our hasty move to Galveston. I was originally going to go with him but because I was in pain every 10 to 15 minutes and I didn't get any sleep the night before, we figured I wouldn't be much help and I'd do better staying at home with my mom. While Brenden went up to Spring, I actually ended up going baby shopping with my mom and older brother, Reuben. I was in the dressing room of Motherhood Maternity at the Baybrook Mall when I realized the contractions I had been recording had been occurring about 5-7 minutes apart for about an hour. I kept this realization to myself until we checked out and made our way back to the car. I mentioned it to my mom who called my dad to figure out what to do and I called Brenden to let him know he might have to meet us at the hospital. I was in deep denial that I was in labor. Afterall, I was still able to talk through my contractions for the most part and still joking around, signs that I was in early labor, if I was even in labor. I was two weeks away from my due date and I knew I was going to be late, so I couldn't be in labor. I told my mom to head back to Galveston so I could get my hospital bag (which I'd left at home) and then we could drive up to North Houston. And that's what we did.

Brenden met us at the hospital and the three of us (Reuben went home to Clear Lake when we went back to Galveston) sat out in lobby of the Women's Atrium. My contractions had stopped completely as soon as we had arrived at the hospital. I knew I wasn't in labor. After expressing some deep frustrations, I bid farewell to my mom. Brenden and I decided to stay in Spring with his parents that evening in case my contractions started up again, occurring with such frequency. When we got to his parents' home (about a twenty minute drive from the hospital), my contractions came back. But they were back to being 10-15 minutes apart. That night I stayed awake, sitting up in a pink cushiony rocking chair while Brenden slept on the floor to keep me company. I think I was jealous of the sleep Brenden was able to get while I stayed awake all night so I would often wake him up whenever a contraction occurred-- just to let him know, "Hey. I'm in pain. We might have a baby soon. It's not fair you can sleep. Wake up." 

We didn't go to church the next day; instead my contractions let up long enough for me to get a couple of naps in. This break from contractions was both welcome and frustrating. I appreciated the rest but hated the sporadic nature of the contractions because I didn't know what it meant. My mom had planned a family birthday dinner for me for that evening and because I was sure I wasn't really in labor, I told her to go ahead with it and Brenden and I drove back to Galveston Sunday afternoon. During the dinner, I kept excusing myself to my bedroom every ten minutes to sit on an exercise ball and breathe through a contraction. After the contraction was over, I returned to the meal, at least for another ten minutes. I had another sleepless night, this time I spent it on the exercise ball while Brenden slept in bed. 

The next morning, the morning of the 16th, I got a brief nap in before I had to get ready for my 38 week check up. My mom was going to drive me up since Brenden was in job training for his second week of work. On the drive up to my doctor's office, my contractions became closer in frequency, about seven minutes apart, until we actually got to the office when they became less frequent, back to about ten minutes. That morning Dr. Hulme had performed an emergency c-section and was very behind on his appointments. I think I waited almost an hour before I got out of the waiting room. I tried to sit patiently and remain as inconspicuous as possible while I breathed through my contractions. I still didn't believe I was in labor and I didn't want to make a scene in the crowded waiting room. 

The nurse eventually took me back and hooked me up to a fetal monitor where we determined my contractions were occurring about thirteen minutes apart and were fairly intense. She didn't seem concerned. When I saw Dr. Hulme, however, he finished his exam and told me I should go ahead and go straight over to the hospital. I shouldn't stop for anything along the way. I jokingly mentioned I had some library books I needed to return and he rather firmly stated I shouldn't even stop for lunch (yeah, right, don't deny a pregnant lady who has gone for the last three hours without eating something substantial her lunch.)

Apparently I was six centimeters dilated and almost fully effaced. He told me I was going to have this baby today.

Click Here for Part 2!