NOM NOM NOM

Oh, Silly Me

Well, I had every intention of updating with pretty pictures of our first Christmas as a family spent here in North Carolina. BUT... we forgot our camera cord. So, for now, this cell phone pic of our WHITE CHRISTMAS will have to do. More to come, I assure you.

Santa Baby!

 

After a nice, long nap while mama and papa stood in line for an hour, this little chickadee was ready for her closeup!

Drumroll, Please

With all the sweet comments I've received about this lil ole blog of mine, I thought I'd try something new... and a little intimidating. Soooooo....



If you enjoy what you're reading, please take a second to click, and let's see how far we can take this sucker. Much obliged, friends!

Playmats and Wipe Warmers and Bouncy Seats, OH MY!

 

The minute you find out you’re going to become a mommy, the onslaught of “stuff” begins. Friends, family members, blogs, email newsletters… they all bombard you with advice.  You can’t live without THIS expensive gadget, and you certainly can’t function without THAT cheap but gargantuan contraption. Your baby will NEED a dozen of these little knick knacks and will WANT at least one of those huge eyesores… for every room of the house, that is.  And since you don’t know where the hell to even begin when it comes to providing for a baby, you wade through it all, fending off panic attacks and wondering how in the world such an itty bitty thing could possibly need SO. MUCH. STUFF.

From the start, Brian and I decided we weren’t going to do it. I’ve mentioned it before: we are “do-ers,” not “have-ers.” We are constantly paring down our bookshelves and closets, removing what we don’t want, need or use and hauling it off to Goodwill. The tree-hugging, second-hand store-ing hippie that I am, I was terrified at the thought of a house full of baby gear in every color of virgin plastic imaginable. Not only that, we wanted to go, see and do with our little girl… to inspire her to appreciate people and nature and music and creativity instead of expecting to be entertained by stuff. So, we set out on the task of preparing for our little bundle with a minimalist, eco-friendly mind set. 

In the beginning, it was easy. I was adamant about not having a wipe warmer or a diaper genie or a stockpile of anything, since babies grow so quickly. We started with the basics: a crib from mom and dad’s basement, a travel system that would grow with us and tiny little onesies from yard sales and thrift stores. We bought things second-hand when we found them and organic when we could afford it. We successfully avoided the “nursery in a box” route and thoughtfully pieced our baby’s room together one item at a time, from the homemade mobile to the flower decals on the wall to the rockasan (i.e. papasan rocker.) 

But as I entered the third trimester and became more anxious about her arrival, I started to cave. There were so many freebies out there for expectant mamas I just couldn’t resist, like the cute nursing cover that would never manage to make it out of Emery’s room. (Sigh.) And then there were all the GREAT deals on Craigslist, like the $90 bouncy seat that I was able to procure for a mere $30. Turns out that wonderful purchase would be the key to getting to shower and get dressed and brush my teeth every single day.  (I may have it gilded once she outgrows it.)  On top of all that, the gifts and hand-me-downs were impossible to refuse… like the pack ‘n’ play I would have never bought but ended up being so happy we had during those first few weeks. 

We ended up finding a pretty good balance. We got a sustainably-made bathtub, but no giant plastic frog to store tub toys in. We got glass bottles, but no bottle warmer or special sterilizer. We got a wooden play gym and a few creativity-inspiring toys, but no screaming/flashing/beeping plastic-y items. Our apartment was baby-ready, but it didn’t look like the Babies R Us truck had unloaded at our door. Not yet, at least.

The real test would be when it was finally time to meet this baby and bring her home. As it turned out, we had just about everything we needed, and we didn’t have much of anything that we didn’t use. (Go us!) But a tiny, sleeping baby doesn’t stay tiny and sleeping forever. By the end of the first month, Emery was awake for most of the day and eager to get to know this new world of hers. Unfortunately, all she could do was lie there. Luckily, she had us there to hold her and carry her and rock her and sway her all day long. Yeah. About that.

As much fun as a new baby is, and as much as you want to snuggle with her constantly, you also NEED 5 minutes to yourself occasionally... to do a load of laundry or dishes… to go to the bathroom… to kiss your husband… to just remember how it felt not to have a baby attached to you at all times. I felt guilty, but I would have given my left arm for a few minutes of freedom. And all those dreams of getting out and seeing the world kind of subside when it's so hot out the baby immediately breaks out into a rash, you may not have showered for days and you are whipping out the boob every two hours for a feeding. So, for my sanity’s sake, I reconsidered my idealist, minimalist philosophy and decided I might be willing to compromise just a little. 

One reluctant trip to the consignment store later, the magical baby swinging device joined our living room furniture. Sixty of the best dollars I ever spent. Seriously. It didn’t take long for the guilt to melt away when I saw how much she enjoyed the back and forth, back and forth. She was happy. I had those elusive five minutes I needed. We bought used and would re-consign when we were done. Ahhhhh.

Since that fateful day, we have continued to find balance amidst all the stuff. When we needed to entice her to spend time on her tummy, we rolled up a blanket and threw down some toys for an instant tummy time mat. When she started wanting to sit upright, I made another trip to Once Upon A Child, and the Bumbo seat came into our lives. When her homemade mobile fell out of the sky, we bought a wonderful new one from Ross that moves and makes music. It securely attaches to the crib, and we can change it up regularly so she doesn’t lose interest. And now that she is bored with most everything, we took the plunge and bought her a huge, plastic exersaucer for Christmas. Everything about it is music-related, and it’s truly awesome. Sure, it won't take the place of going, seeing and doing, but the older she gets, the more of that she gets too. 

Since we won’t be in town for Christmas, and she is dying for some new stimulation, we went ahead and gave it to her. Just as I suspected, it rocks her world, and I’ll happily find a way to offset the virgin plastic to see those big, brown eyes light up as she discovers and experiences it all.

Merry Christmas from The LeBlancs!

Thievery: Update

Baby Karma restored...

Foot Sucker

Eat Her Up

Stay At Home Papa

Sometimes the most wonderful blessings in this world come to you guised as misfortune. It’s happened too many times in my life to name. Normally I don’t realize it until much, much later. Then I feel silly for being so devastated in the first place.

But when Brian got laid off the week before I went back to work full time and Emery was supposed to start daycare, I immediately saw the bright spot. Sure, I was worried about our finances, but once the budget was reviewed and that fear subsided, I was so thrilled at the opportunity that had just fallen into our laps: Brian was going to get to be a stay at home papa.

Of course we all faced some challenges. Brian had to learn how to care for and entertain a baby all day long. Emery had to adjust to a new routine. And I had to let go. Now, a month later, we have all adjusted and, short of being able to stay home with her myself, this is the most perfect scenario I could ever imagine. My sweet little girl adores her papa, and he has seized the opportunity to become the diaper-slinging, paci-wielding super-dad I always knew he would be. My heart melts when I think about the two of them, my true loves, and the time that they get to spend together. Not many daddies and daughters are so lucky.

As an added bonus, parenting has truly become a partnership. Our friendship and our marriage have benefitted from the ability to honestly understand each and every aspect of raising this baby, the trials and the triumphs. Our tired bodies have been pushed to their limits. Some days our brains feel like mush after hours of googoo-ing and gaga-ing. Other days, after an especially long nap or another baby milestone conquered, we are on top of the world. Either way, we’re in it together. We are there for one another to lean on and love on. We are making every effort to help one another and, for the sake of our little girl, to be the best parents we can… and part of that is showing her what love is supposed to be.

I know that it won’t last forever. Brian will go back to work eventually. But nothing can erase the bond they share. She is her daddy’s little girl.

So, This is Christmas...

We’re just barely into December, and we’ve got personalized stockings on the way from Pottery Barn, the cutest Bert Anderson chickadee ornament coming to us from GROW Nebraska and a Little Superstar Musical Exersaucer ready to assemble. It’s our first Christmas as a family, and I am SO excited.

Our own little chickadee is already smitten with the season, from the sparkling lights and glittery ornaments on our tree to the variety-show worthy Christmas carols we sing and dance to while making dinner and changing diapers and rolling over (and over and over!) No, she doesn’t have any idea it’s Christmas, and she won’t remember a thing about this year after it’s all said and done. But she is fully capable of feeling and sharing the joy and laughter and love this holiday inspires with her whole heart. You can see it in her eyes, and it’s amazing.

While I’ve never been one to fall prey to the commercialized hustle and bustle, I will admit I have lost a lot of the affection that I once had for the holiday over my adult years. Money and time are always short. There are always marital conflicts, travel snafus and a crazy number of places to go and people to see. All the things you were oblivious to as a wide-eyed, Santa-loving child is so apparent. It’s exhausting, and it sucks the joy right out of you. But this year, looking through the eyes of a child once again, it’s easy to remember what’s important. I am taking every opportunity to have as much fun with Emery and Brian and the rest of my family as I can, to make as many memories as possible and to start as many traditions as I can think of, hoping just a few of them will stick throughout the coming years.

Even picking an Angel Tree baby, something I have done each and every year since I was probably 15, was a new experience. Instead of any random kid with a cool toy request, I searched the tree until I found a 3-month old baby boy named Humberto. The whole time, I talked to Emery in her stroller, telling her that we were looking for another baby to buy presents for so he could have a happy Christmas too. It was deliberate, picking a baby her age. Thinking about the prospect of picking a new Angel her age every year, sharing the how and why of loving and caring for others, especially those less fortunate, I feel both thankful for and humbled by the opportunity and obligation to raise our daughter with the values we hold so dear. My tradition has become “our” tradition now. How special is that?

Thievery

Look at that face. Mischievous, right? Now, do you see that cute little sock monkey she’s got? Mmmm hmmm. I snatched it up at Wal-Mart the other day because I thought it was precious. I gave it to Emery to love on while we were grabbing some quick groceries and, wouldn’t ya know it, she fell asleep and forgot to remind me to get it out of her car seat and pay for it. Five (chubby little sausage) finger discount. (Don’t worry. She’s learned her lesson. We’ve talked about it, and Emery and I have decided to take the $3 our little sock monkey friend would have cost us and buy another little something to donate to Toys for Tots.)

So, my child is a thief. I should have known. I mean, she did steal my heart before we even met. ;)

The Battle of the Breast

Raise the white flag. It’s over. After three and a half months, the breastfeeding battle has ended, and I have lost.

Honestly, I didn’t think I would last this long. From the start, I wasn’t in love with it. It was hard, and I was tired, and I constantly worried that she wasn’t getting enough or she was getting too much or I wasn’t eating well enough. The OCD in me fought breastfeeding every step of the way, dying to be in control of how often and how much… or at least to know. Then there was the overactive letdown and the food allergies… the choking and the swollen breasts and the foremilk/hindmilk issue. And the pumping. Oh, how I hate(d) pumping. But I knew that it was best for baby, so I kept at it, determined to make breastfeeding work. And, as time went on, it became the least stressful part about being a new mommy. It was a quiet moment with just me and Emery. It was knowing that no matter where we were or what we were doing, I could provide for her most basic need. It was exactly what she needed, and that was more than enough. Suddenly, it had been three months, and I could see myself breastfeeding for the whole first year. I just knew it would work out.

But then, just as suddenly, things changed. Life happened, and the anxiety that I fight with regularly began creeping its way back into my head. Stress got the best of me… and my boobs. My milk wasn’t letting down. No matter how relaxed I pretended tried to be, it just wouldn’t come out. Emery started fussing at nearly every feeding. She cried her baby goat cry, and my heart was broken, but I had no idea how to fix it. I couldn’t pump more than two or three ounces at a time, so supplementing with breastmilk wasn’t going to work. We had no choice. We bought the formula, methodically mixed the first bottle and held it to her little mouth. She sucked it down. Big ole tears were rolling down my cheeks. For the first time in a week, she seemed truly satisfied. And while that was a weight off a stressed mommy’s shoulders, that meant that for the first time in her entire little life, I wasn’t able to give her what she needed.

But I wasn’t throwing in the towel just yet. I was even more motivated to fight the anxiety demons. I pumped religiously at work and at home, and we supplemented with formula when we needed to. I made a commitment to relax and just go with the flow. And I did. But it still wasn’t enough. The breast was no longer a peaceful place for either me or Emery. She preferred the bottle because it was easy, and I because it calmed my fears of her not getting enough. So I pumped at work, pumped at home while she ate and cherished each and every sleepy, early morning nursing session. I knew our days of breastfeeding were numbered. I was spending every spare moment with my breast pump, not my baby. I was still having trouble with my milk letting down, especially at work. Emery was waking up an hour after she ate in the mornings, hungry again. Brian was understanding, but obviously exhausted after being home with baby all day and then having to feed her while I pumped. Then, when she went to bed, I pumped again and passed out from exhaustion, giving us no time to spend together as a couple.

So this past week, I made the toughest decision I have had to make so far as a momma. I packed up the pump, and we had our last early morning hurrah. Emery Jane is officially a formula baby. I am tearing up just thinking about it. Part of me still feels as if I let her down, but most of me knows that this is what is best for all of us. So, I will put on my big girl face and move on, happy that I can enjoy every spare moment with her and hubby instead of being strapped to a pump. Happy that she is getting what she needs and that my sanity is restored. Happy that she got three and a half months of breast milk to get her started and that I got three and a half months of bonding with her in a way that no one else ever has or will. Bigger and better things… like rolling over and teething… await!

Be Still, My Heart

Just for Laughs!

3 Months Old

Happy Halloween!

2 Months Old

11 lbs. 12 oz.
22.5 in.

Sleeping Beauty

It is love.

One Month Old

9 lbs. 13 oz.
21 in.

How wonderful life is...

now you're in the world.

Emery Jane LeBlanc
August 20, 2010
8 lbs. 5 oz.
19 in.

Aliens Inside Me

Isn't she beautiful? Okay, maybe I'm a big, fat, deliriously-tired mommy to be, but I think this is just the most adorable thing! But even if you don't see what I see, you cannot possibly deny that she isn't her mother's child, channeling the spirit of a revolutionary with her fist raised in pride. I love this baby of mine already.

After thinking we wouldn't get another ultrasound before Emery made her big debut, we got lucky. So, last week, they checked her out and this is the best picture we got. On the screen we could see her little fingers, instead of the blob I've labeled "fist." We also got confirmation of her little girl parts, or "hamburger" as the ultrasound tech referred to it. And we got to hear how wonderfully she was doing... right on track to be an eight and a half pound baby. She was, alas, turned inward, so no face shots. Brian and I were a little disappointed, but then we remembered she would be here in EIGHT WEEKS and figured after seeing her in person, a garbled ultrasound image could never do her justice anyway.

Yep. 32 weeks. 8 months. Breathe. Don't freak out. We're almost ready... right? Well, it doesn't feel that way, but I actually think we are. And I'm sure that whatever I haven't managed to get done by the end of July will certainly get done during Momma's visit. I am so grateful that she is taking the time to come down before baby gets here. It's already difficult to do normal everyday things without feeling like I just ran a marathon, so I know that by then I'll be seeing red when it comes to anything other than the routine of breathe, eat, sleep, work.

To be honest, even those seemingly mundane things have become quite laborous already. Of course, when you look at how your body changes in pregnancy, it's no surprise that you feel all out of whack. Check out the bladder and the stomach, for pet(Why didn't I look this up sooner? I could have been more prepared!)


But then, when I feel this little ball of baby goodness moving around inside me, I could not possibly care less that my bladder is homeless and my stomach is fighting my diaphragm for the last bit of space in my chest. I can almost always see her moving now, little limbs pushing and squishing and molding my torso like a contortionist, making me feel a little possessed and a LOT happy. Brian is jealous that I get to experience that part and he doesn't. I can't say I blame him. And it may sound selfish, but I am glad there is a part of this pregnancy that is just for me and Emery. For a couple more months, we share this body, and I get to be with her all day, every day. I know that, as much as pregnancy is for the birds in almost every way, I will miss having her with me always, safe and sound and mine all mine.

<3 Lace