1 month old already!? (belated)

Okay... so this is slightly late, since Jack is 10 weeks this week. But, I'm finally catching up on getting all my photos on my computer. The goal was to get caught up before I go back to work, and as this is my last week of maternity leave, all hail procrastination. (Even better, now that I am finishing it - tomorrow is my first day back at work.)

So let's rewind 5 or so weeks.

November 2, 2013: JACK IS 1 MONTH OLD! 

 

The first month went by SO fast. We came home from the hospital on Sunday, October 6th and from then, the month was a whirlwind. My Mom stayed to help us out as I was recovering from the cesarean section and Marc had to go back to work. Thank God she did; there is no way I would have survived. My Dad came up to visit that next Wednesday, and there was a lot of grandparent-heart-melting going on.

This first week home included a lot of learning for me: changing diapers, soothing a crying baby, nursing, functioning on no sleep, functioning post-surgery, and basically learning that life is no longer about me. No better person to teach me than my own, wonderful mother. I struggled, but I was given opportunities to nap. I enjoyed, but was a little hesitant and scared. I got a little crazy, but also got much more comfortable.

We had a professional photo shoot with Jack when he was 10 days old. He was, of course, adorable.
4 hours later:

 

Jack had lots of visitors this month: Grandma and Pops, Grannci came back up for a week, and Great Nana and Great Papa even came to see the big guy! 

We spent the month really getting to know each other and getting comfortable. I ventured into public (stroller and baby wrap), went to Piedmont Park to walk with some other Moms, but mostly snuggled. A lot. All of the things I needed to get done took a back seat so Jack and I could really bond. Dad didn't argue there - he did lots of snuggling as well.

Here are a few of my favorite pictures from Jack's first month of life:

Snoozing with Pops

Lots of love for Grandma...

Great Nana and Great Papa gave lots of love...and gifts!

A family divided (Jack will quickly learn that garnet and gold are much more flattering than blue and orange...)

Pretty fly for a white guy.

First storm trooper encounter!

Snuggles with Grannci

Bitches brunch + 2

Tomorrow is my first day back at work, and Jack's first real day at daycare. I am anxious as hell and writing this blog at 11:00 at night when I should be asleep... I'm sure I'll have something to say about how tomorrow goes once I post Jack's 2 month pictures. Hopefully I can get really caught up by this weekend, as we are heading up to snowy Chicago for Christmas and will have LOTS to write about then...Jack gets to meet his new cousin Henry!

Have a fabulous night, as I will be laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, dreading for 5:00 to come...

It's go time!

The birth story. Everyone who has had a baby has a story. It either goes something like 'Oh, it was no big deal. He just slipped out!" (cough-certain sister of mine-cough) or it sounds a little something like mine...

Let's review. 39 weeks and 4 days. High blood pressure. Nausea and headache. Doctor sends me to the hospital for blood tests to check for preeclampsia.

I took this before going to my doctor's appointment, "just in case." Can you see why I was miserable?

Ready to continue?

We get to the hospital at about 10:00 AM, and all I had eaten since the night before was applesauce. Of course, the one thing I was most cognizant of was that if I do get induced, I can't eat. Shit. I needed one last gorge before I was in that room. Marc brought me a Coke and goldfish. Not my first choice in last meals, but it didn't matter - the nausea wasn't going to let me eat anyway.

After paperwork and a 15 minute wait (that felt like 15 days), the nurse walked us to the labor and delivery room, handed me a gown and said "Welcome to your home for the next few hours (HA!). Go ahead and get changed and we'll get started." Marc was on the phone closing some things up at work and I sluggishly walked into the bathroom and lost all of my marbles. I cried uncontrollably. I'm not really sure why - perhaps a mix of fear, excitement, pain, anxiety, no more excuse to eat cupcakes? I put the gown on (slowly.) and put myself together and sat on the bed. Blood was drawn and fetal monitors were put on. I was attached to the thingy! This must be real. Then, I start letting the girls know the deal. The smile on my face was more fear than anything else. Marc's was pure happiness (no work for at least a week, right?)

 

The blood results came back quickly - no preeclampsia (HOORAY!), but I had three choices. Go home and wait to go into labor, (my doctor advised against this), go home and come back at 5 AM the next morning to be induced, or have a sleepover at the hospital to get good and comfy and get induced at 6 AM. I choose to be a squatter. Good thing I did... when the doctor came back in to check me at 1:00, I was 1 cm dilated (I was 0 cm at 9 AM), which meant something may be happening. The nurses start looking at the monitor and ask me if I have felt any contractions yet. 

"Nope." 

"Really? Because you're having one right now." 

"Oh, yea?"

It seems that sometime between my doctor's appointment and that moment, I had started active labor, but I was one of those girls who had no idea. All Jack needed was a little motivation...

We call my Mom and tell her to get here STAT. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall as my Mom got this news. This amazing human being had packed a back a month prior and was carrying it back and forth from home, into work, and back home (can't let medicine and make up melt in the car.) Her friends at work were probably starting to think she had gone mad. But finally!!! She got that call and hopped on a plane. Marc's Mom and Dad began to prepare for their drive up the next morning.

The next few hours were uneventful. Marc went home to take the dogs to the kennel and get all of his chargers (because men never listen when women say "Grab your phone charger in case we go to the hospital.") So, I sat on my bed, ate hospital food and watched Teen Mom for 4 hours. It was a great time. I was feeling my tiny, adorable little contractions and thought that this was a piece of cake. Marc came back, we oogled in excitement for a minute, then I realized I had to pee and was hooked up to a million machines. He unhooked me and I waddled to the bathroom, which was not a quick activity. While I was trying to untangle the mess of cords, I heard the door open and close and cursed at Marc in my mind for leaving the room, I totally wasn't getting out of this bathroom by myself. But, to my surprise, I did, leaving no hands to keep my robe closed in the back (who cares, anyway?) Marc was sitting in the chair and had a dumb smile on his face.
"Why are you smiling?"
"No reason."
"Did you leave and come back?"
"No."
"Why did I hear the door open?"
"Nurses."
"Why are you being so weird?"
"I'm a weird person. You know this."
"Want to see my butt?"
"Not really."
As I turn around in rejection, there was my Mommy, hiding in the corner! (I quickly ran through that last conversation to make sure I didn't say anything terribly inappropriate.) I was SO SO SO excited to see her. I am pretty sure we both cried and jumped and giggled. She took some pictures of me in my gown with my cords in front of the clock. They are so terrifying, I refuse to include them in this post.

The rest of the night was easy. One last meal, then focus on getting rest for tomorrow. At 6:00, the doctor gave me Cervadil to try and soften my cervix since I wasn't making much progress, in hopes that I would be 4-5 centimeters come induction at 6 AM. I was starting to have painful contractions, and got a morphine shot to help me sleep. Since I had sent my Mom home to get a good nights sleep at my house, I called her to tell her how much I loooooooved her. I got pretty ooey gooey. She laughed at me. Then, I kept asking Marc ridiculous questions. He was getting annoyed at my narcotic stupor as he wanted a good nights sleep too.  So, I was left to my own entertainment as I knew I wouldn't sleep at all. Somewhere during the night, the Cervadil fell out. Awesome. The doctor came in and said it was fine - I was still only 1 cm, it didn't work anyway. Awesome.

The nurse comes in at 5 AM and tells me to shower as it would be my last one for a while. That was a scary shower. I got back into bed and the nurses started the Pitocin drip. I couldn't eat, and if I had to get up for anything, I had to take the IV with me. I was starving and unhappy. Marc and my Mom went to get lunch, and brought back McDonalds. And ate it in front of me. So wrong on so many levels. They got a kick out of it.

I started getting really bad contractions around 10:00. Marc, being the chart and number kind of guy that he is, loved monitoring the contractions. As annoying as his excitement was, he was great. My Mom was amazing as well, being very comforting as she knows these pains and had some sympathy for me. I tried to push through them so I could experience labor pains, but around 11:00 I had had enough and asked for the epidural. I had moved to 4 cm, which made me very happy. This was the part that I feared the most... but it was nothing at all. The IV hurt more than the epidural. I was so ready for it to start working...

Once it did, life was GRAND. We got a kick out of looking at the monitor and saying "Oh, I'm having a contraction? No big deal!" "What's up? Oh, nothing, just having a contraction. Ha, ha, ha." We all decided this would be a good time for me to take a nap to recover from no sleep last night and what was about to happen. I slept for a good 3 hours, it was the most glorious nap I've ever taken. When I woke up, I was 9 cm. My doctor was amazed at how quickly I was going and felt that this was going to go as planned.

Unfortunately, it didn't. I stayed at 9 cm for about 4 hours. Every hour, she would come back to check me in hopes that I was at 10, but never was. She'd say "Let's give it another hour." and I wanted to punch her in the face. (Not really, but really.) By 6:00, I was in a lot of pain. I had gone through 3 epidurals, was having some serious cramping that wasn't covered by the epidural and was exhausted. I had been in labor for 29 hours and running on a 3 hour nap. I didn't think I was going to make it. My doctor talked to Marc and I about the option to have a cesarean section. She didn't think I was going to get to 10 cm, and his head was stuck in my cervix. Plus, she was estimating that he was almost 9 pounds and didn't think I would be able to push him out. We quickly agreed that a c-section would be the best thing. From the moment we made that decision, my world quickly became filled with numerous doctors and lots of scary.

4 nurses and the anesthesiologist came in to prep me. They noticed that my pulse was very low and I was running a 102 fever. My doctor kept pushing for them to prep me quicker as I needed to get to the OR immediately. I should have been scared by this, but I was too busy being preoccupied by the anesthesiologist pricking me with a pin and asking if I could feel it. Yes, I could on my left side, stop. So, he was a bit panicked as to why that was. The epidural has this funny side effect of making you shake uncontrollably... and holy - it was terrible. I felt like I was naked in sub zero weather and was shivering and thought I was going to shake right off the bed. Marc, during this time, was quite tickled with his get up.

I'm glad he was enjoying himself.

They wheeled me into the OR and had Marc sit outside while they prepped me. I can't accurately describe how I felt. I was confused, scared, excited, nervous, and couldn't stop freaking shaking. The anesthesiologist nurse had to hold down my arms - I felt like I was either being crucified or prepped for lethal injection. But I heard the nurse say something that would give me the worst fear and terror I've ever felt.
"Dr. Marshall, I can't find the fetal heartbeat."
"We've been monitoring it all day, it's low. Keep looking."
"No, I have looked everywhere. I found Mom's, but absolutely cannot find the fetal heartbeat."
After the doctor checks herself...
"Everyone stop what you're doing. I need to go in immediately. Someone go get Dad right now."
Marc came in, not knowing the conversation I had just heard. I looked at him in despair and didn't tell him how I was feeling. He could see that I was shaking and heard my racing heartbeat. As she ripped me open, a huge splash of blood splattered on the blue curtain separating my face and the rest of me. It felt like a scene from Dexter. I wanted this to be over.
Within 30 seconds, I heard her say "Lindsay, you're going to feel some pressure." The feeling I was about to feel was one I will never forget. As she lifted big Jack B out, there was an enormous weight lifted off my lungs (8 pounds, 11 ounces to be exact). I took a HUGE breath - it felt incredible. I can't really remember what happened after that. I vaguely remember Marc walking over to the nurse who was cleaning the baby and I kept asking him "Does he have hair?" (Who the hell asks that before "is he okay?") I must have known he was okay because I know Marc was smiling. But I was pissed because Marc was ignoring me (shocking!). But the rest is a blur. But I do have this picture to remind me that whatever transpired right there was a beautiful moment.

Little (big) Jack Michael Bacon was born on October 2 at 6:46 in the evening. He weighed 8 pounds, 11 ounces and was 21.5 inches long. He was healthy, and beautiful. He did have to go to the transition nursery due to a little grunting he was doing, but all c-section babies experience that as they don't expel fluids during the last push out.

While they stitched me back together, Marc went up to the transition nursery with Jack. I had hoped that once I got put back together, we would all have a glorious reunion in the recovery room. Unfortunately, that wouldn't happen. I felt pretty fuzzy as they wheeled me (and my placenta in a bucket) to recovery, but I figured that had something to do with the 31 hours of labor I just experienced. But, my fever had risen to 103.5. They would not release me from recovery until it went down to 100. I sat there by myself for almost 4 hours. Marc was the only person allowed back there with me, but I insisted that he was with the baby. He did bring my phone down to me so I could call my Mom and let our parents know that I was fine. Marc also brought down a picture of he and Jack and told me all about how he got to feed him and hold him. I fought back my tears so I didn't ruin that exciting moment for Marc, but I was so incredibly jealous that I wasn't able to be with Jack. But, I did my best to stay positive and hope my fever let up soon. I kept looking at the picture and couldn't wait for the moment I got to meet my Jack.

FINALLY, around midnight, they released me. They wheeled me to my postpartum room and gave me lots of yummy pain meds. I was feeling surprisingly well, just terribly exhausted. My epidural was wearing off so I could move my legs and felt slightly normal. Everyone came into my room, except Jack. He was having a few last tests done before being released to me. We sent Marc to the nursery so Jack and I could meet on FaceTime (again, seriously?) As silly as it was, it was INCREDIBLE. I bawled and it made it even harder to wait to meet him in person.

 

Our parents left so we could get some rest... and Marc finally brought Jack to our room and I got to hold my son for the first time at 1:30 AM. I was so tired, so exhausted, but could not stop staring at his beautiful face. He was fast asleep and just ate, so no need to nurse. Taking the advice of many Moms before me, I decided to let him sleep in the nursery the first night so Marc and I could get some sleep. It was very hard to let Marc take him. I didn't want to let him go. 

I had to spend 5 days in the hospital due to my fever and the many rounds of 3 antibiotics they had to give me. It was a very long 5 days, and Marc and I were very antsy to get home. Our parents were here and so helpful. My Dad met Jack via FaceTime and told me he was going to be flying up in a few days, which of course made me cry hysterically. Marc was able to go home and spend some time with the dogs and I got to catch up on my sleep...but we were ready to get home come Sunday.

Here are a few of some of my favorite pictures from our stay in the hospital:

 

One last note... 

During my stay at the hospital, I didn't feel sad about the way things happened. But as time passed and I had more time to soak everything in (and discover a nasty bladder infection caused by E.Coli from the catheter...) I felt that I had been cheated out of the birth experience. In a slightly selfish way, I felt:

- sad that I didn't get to 'push'

- robbed of the opportunity to have skin to skin contact with my baby and nursing immediately after birth 

- angry that I spent 5 days in the hospital and Marc wouldn't have any days off by the time we got home

- bloated. Really, really bloated.

Also, due to all the antibiotics pumping through me for a solid two weeks, I couldn't eat and it severely affected my milk supply. I visited a lactation consultant to get some help once I felt better, but it didn't get easier. I had this overriding sense of guilt for not nursing, but many good people told me to get over the guilt and do what needs to be done for Jack to be healthy.

After dwelling on all of this for about 6 weeks, I finally let go of my sadness/anger. What happened was for the best for both me and Jack, and today (two months later) we are happier than every and found ways to bond elsewhere. I love Jack more than anything in the world and am happy that he is here and healthy, no matter how he got here.

9 long months...

My entire life (adult life), I've only had one thought cross my mind about what my pregnancy would be like once I reached that point: "I am going to be as round as I am tall." This thought definitely came true. But there were a lot of other things I never expected or even considered. So, here are the last 9 (10?!) months of my life. I won't go into insane detail, but I'm telling the story of my pregnancy, so of course expect some graphic nature.

January 26, 2013... my 28th birthday. Marc had planned a dinner out at the Iberian Pig with my friends. The past two weeks had not been easy; I lost my dear cousin to cancer, and two days later we had a very difficult time closing on our new house which I had to deal with by myself as Marc was traveling for work up until our closing date. Two days after closing, I flew to Chicago to be with my family during this difficult time. I hadn't slept, felt very stressed, and extremely nauseous as I boarded the red eye to Chicago. I had felt so off the two days I was gone. I return to work on Friday, the day before my birthday, and my teammate told me I looked like I was 'glowing' considering all of the stress I had just been through. Come Saturday (my birthday), a manicure and pedicure was surely in order. I relaxed, enjoyed, but something just felt different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. A friend of mine suggested that I take a pregnancy test, as she just had a baby three weeks before and just knew that I was pregnant. So, I did.

I was NOT prepared for what I was about to experience. I headed upstairs to get ready for my birthday dinner, and really didn't think anything about the test. But a part of me told me not to wait until tomorrow, just take it while the shower warms up. So I did... and as I was about to step into the shower, I saw those two pink lines. I thought I was going to faint. I was not at all expecting to see that. My heart was racing and I felt like my stomach was going to fall out of my butt. I kept looking at it, back at the box, and back at the stick. Seriously?! Was this for real!? I jumped in the shower and put myself back together. I wasn't shocked in a sad way; I was shocked in an "Oh my God, that was fast. Too fast? Easy? Why was it so easy? I didn't think it was supposed to be that easy? How do I tell Marc? I had a beer last night! How do we get through tonight without drinking...we are going to Brickstore after dinner. I always drink at least 10 beers at Brickstore." You know, the important things.

I put on my robe, and slowly walk downstairs to where Marc was. This walk was the most drawn out scary walk - not like a "walk of shame" kind of walk, but "my life is about to change and I might fall down the stairs" kind of walk. (Thankfully, four years of sorority recruitment helped me get down the stairs just fine.)

"Marc, can you put the iPad down for a second?"
"Am I in trouble?"
"No. I just took a pregnancy test."
"And?"
"I'm pregnant."
"Wait. Seriously? How did that happen? You had a beer last night."
(He clearly knew the right questions to ask.)
"I'm fine. A little nervous/anxious/excited... what are you thinking?"
"That this is amazing! But we can't have your birthday dinner. I'm calling everyone to cancel."
"Marc, I'm pregnant, not dying. You're not canceling my birthday dinner."
"But everyone will know something is up when you don't drink 10 beers at Brickstore."
"I'll order a beer, and you'll sneak it away from me."
...continue a conversation (that was longer than it needed to be) in regards to how we would fool my friends at dinner.

Since we had just moved into the house, we didn't have internet yet. I could NOT tell our parents without seeing their faces and reactions via FaceTime. So, I had to wait 4 long and agonizing days before we could share the news. Now, most people keep this kind of news to themselves until they go to the doctor to have the real test done. Not me. I am the most impatient person in the world. So, we told our parents in a fun way. We FaceTimed (can't believe that is a verb) and took our parents on a tour of the house. Downstairs, main floor, upstairs... "Wait, there is one more room to show you." ::show the kind-of-small-bedroom-with-junk-and-no-furniture-in-it:: "Here it is!" ::silence:: "Nice...room?" "It doesn't look like much now, but in about 8 months, it's going to be a nursery!" ::Begin parental tears and questions and over excitement::

So that's how we found out the big news. We were not prepared and had no idea what to expect... hooray for best friends who have had a baby 3 weeks prior! The next 8-9 months were a constant surprise. You hear stories about how pregnancy should be, but until you go through it, those stories are crap.

First Trimester:
Our first ultrasound put me at 8 weeks with a due date of September 30, but then changed to about 6 weeks and October 5. It was real. There was a heartbeat (and it was the most beautiful symphony I've every heard.) My Mom came up for the 2nd ultrasound at 13 weeks - the wait up until then was TERRIBLE. I was so stressed/anxious that something had gone wrong and I didn't know it... but physically, I was totally fine. No bleeding, no morning sickness (except for a bit of nausea) but a TON of exhaustion. The moment I got home from work, I slept. But that little heartbeat was the only thing on my mind at all times. The anxiety was awful. That 13 week ultrasound was beautiful. A healthy heartbeat and a beautiful profile - it was a real baby! No more gummy bear! Our tech told us she was "75% sure it was a girl" and Marc was instantly terrified. Finally, we could tell the world!!!

Our first meeting with our little piglet when he was 8 weeks old!

A family picture in the park... the only way you can tell Jack is present is the lack of beer in my hand.

Piglet at 13 weeks... our "little girl"...

Easter Sunday at Piedmont Park... just before spilling the news to everyone!

How we told 'the world'...

 Second Trimester:
Continue feeling great - even better! Not having to hide the news at work anymore was a huge relief. My students were so awesome and treated me so wonderfully. I wasn't showing much yet, so I wasn't getting much slack from the public (that's why girls get pregnant - for the attention and slack given to you by strangers, right?) Around 16 weeks I got a TERRIBLE stomach bug (thank you eighth grader) while Marc was in San Fransisco for work. I seriously thought I was going to die. I even called my doctor and told her "I seriously think I'm going to die" and she told me "No, you just have a stomach bug while pregnant. You aren't going to die." But, I lost about 5 pounds and after losing that pudge - you could see a real preggo bump! Just after the bug, we went to get our gender ultrasound. Even though we thought we knew it was a girl, we wanted to see our piglet again. To our surprise, this tech told us very different news - it's a boy! Totally shocked, but not sold - we would confirm this at our 20 week appointment. Our anatomy scan at 20 weeks confirmed that our little piglet was surely a boy - we got a pretty good money shot. The name Jack came to us quite easily, absolutely no argument! Now, a middle name... When I was 21 weeks, Marc and I went to California for a friend's wedding. Since he was busy doing wedding things, I took it upon myself to stroll around beautiful Santa Barbara and eat pretty much everything I saw. Example: In one afternoon stroll down the main street, I ate Pinkberry, a bratwurst, popcorn, some awesome pastry, and Pinkberry again. And then I ate 5 cupcakes at the wedding. Needless to say, my doctor wasn't too pleased with my weight gain. Finally, I have experienced a negative effect of pregnancy. I was being watched.

Marc, Jack and I in Santa Barbara, California

The money shot! (Jack will not be happy about this in 14 years.)

Dad starting work in the nursery!

 3rd Trimester:
And this is when I finally started to feel the pains of pregnancy. They say the first trimester is the worst, but I beg to differ. My body felt like it was falling apart (mostly because enormous Jack was constantly slaying dragons and giants inside of me). I could tell THE DAY I hit the third trimester that this was going to be rough. I started hurting, couldn't sleep but was terribly exhausted (mostly from work), I was HUGE, wanted to eat everything but couldn't (but did anyway), and even got some morning sickness. I pushed through the first few weeks, but once I hit about 32 weeks, I was miserable. I couldn't believe I still had 8 more weeks. My doctors kept telling me that there was no way I'd make it to October (Jack showed them wrong.) Work was a major struggle. I was so happy when summer came, but I was teaching summer school and if you aren't aware, Georgia is MISERABLY hot in the summer. Marc and my friends hated being in my house. ("Oh, brunch at Lindsay's? Bring your winter coat.") I slept with 3 fans pointed directly at me. I couldn't move. The only thing getting me through life was Yogurtland (a lot of it). Thankfully, my summer school administrator cut me some slack and let me sit...a lot. My kids were great too. Once that was over, parents come up for pre-baby visits to help us get ready and 4D ultrasounds. Lots of cleaning and washing baby clothes. So many baby clothes. My baby shower was incredible - so blessed that my Mom and Jessica could make it from Chicago and my closest friends could be there with me. Jack was surely spoiled!
School started back up, and from the first day of school, I knew that these next two months would be absolute hell. I was right. Everyday was painful, I was having pretty bad Braxton Hicks contractions and I could barely get through the day. My blood pressure was high (not shocking) and I physically couldn't handle much more. At 36 weeks, my doctor pulled me from work. She felt that the high stress environment was not helping my blood pressure and she needed to see it go down. My fluids were also low which was a cause for concern. While I was quite bored for the next three and a half weeks, it was nice to have some down time before the craziness began. I used this time to get everything possible ready for Jack. I even nested (finally!) and cleaned like crazy. As my weekly appointments came (36 weeks), my doctor noticed that Jack was "quite big" and thought I could easily go into labor early.
Finally, my 38 week appointment came (Friday) and I left majorly disappointed. After doctor's telling me every week that he had dropped and they expected him to come anytime, I wasn't dilated at all. I was so disappointed. My doctor could tell, and was also a bit concerned that my blood pressure was still pretty high even after not being at work. She wanted to see me on Tuesday, because she needed to keep an eye on my blood pressure. I feel like she knew that Tuesday would be a good day to induce if necessary.
Come Tuesday, I painfully got ready for my appointment. I had been nauseous all night/morning, had a bad headache, and was hurting SO BAD. I felt like my pelvis was ripping in half. My plan was to go get my nails done after my appointment and beg them to massage the pressure points in my feet and ankles so I could PLEASE go into labor. Marc and I get to the doctor, I assume I won't be dilated and I'll have to wait even longer. Less than two minutes into the appointment, Dr. Marshall says "Your blood pressure is very high, and I'm concerned about your nausea and headache. I'm going to need you to go to the hospital and get admitted."

"...huh? Like, right now?" ::quickly look at Marc thinking OMG.::
"Yes, right now. We need to do some blood tests. We may need to induce you today."
"Okay..." ::she leaves the room:: "MARC. I need to get my nails done. I can't have the baby and have bad nails."

We make our way to the hospital and I am a total mess. I am not prepared for this. I need my Mommy, stat. We called her and told her to get on a plane, because this is happening...even with unmanicured nails.

My amazing baby shower!

Excited brothers!

The 80% completed nursery!

Dad is excited!

My baby boy at 29 weeks. So much love, and looking like a Weldy already...

Edit: I failed to mention my number one nemesis during pregnancy: my boobs. If you had any interaction with me at all during these 9 months, you know exactly how angry they made me. That is all I'm going to say about that, but I felt that they needed to be mentioned as I complained about them at least 3 times a day, every day. 

 

There's no better time than now...

The years have really flown by, and I assume they are only going to move quicker now that we are 'adults' (I use that term loosely; we maintain all the attributes for what it means to be an adult, but I still don't quite feel like one yet...).

Here are the past few years in a nutshell:

2008: Marc and I meet during a dart league. Marc gets offered a job in Atlanta and moves with Snoop. I finish the school year...

2009: The school year has ended, I move to Atlanta with my new best friend Bowser and start working at a bar while applying for graduate school (an arduous task...) I get into graduate school at Georgia State University!

2010: Marc starts working at Wells Fargo, I am still in school and still slinging tacos, until I get a job teaching at a middle school. The year ends with a fabulous trip to Charleston where Marc pops the question - I cry and say something along the lines of "hell yea" and we celebrate with local beers.

2011: Wedding planning. All day. Every day. And we move into "The Latrine"... and quickly move back to our luxurious little apartment as soon as possible. (If you don't know about the Latrine, don't worry about it. You aren't missing anything other than broken air conditioners and mice.) But, we did throw an epic 4th of July Bacon Style party there. I also graduated from Georgia State!

2012: It's here!! Marc and I get married and have the most amazing and memorable wedding with all of our family and friends. We spend two weeks over the summer traveling to Germany and Croatia, complete with bier and heavy luggage frustrations. Upon our return, we decide it is time to leave our cozy apartment and start looking to buy a house...

2013: Starts off with closing on our beautiful home in Norcross, complete with a fenced in backyard for the beasts! ...and finding out one week later, on my birthday, that we are indeed expecting our first Bacon Bit!

Here we are, November 1st, 2013. Our Bacon Bit, Jack B, turns 1 month old tomorrow. Hence, this blog. I wish I could go back and recount all memories in detail, such as our wedding and honeymoon, but I have recently learned what it means to be a 'new mom' and realized that is never going to happen. It is 9:00 at night and I just brushed my teeth for the first time today. Detailed accounts of the past are not happening anytime soon. Sorry. I haven't even gotten our wedding pictures developed...

But, there is no time like the present! And our present is incredible. I hope to use this blog to update our friends and family on our lives, since they are certainly moving quickly.

Looking forward to sharing all of our fun moments with family and friends!

Love,
Lindsay, Marc, Jack B, Snoop & Bowser