tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7523639127626220422024-03-19T12:10:00.896-05:00McFarland Family NewsThe McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-33787566323846319662015-06-19T22:06:00.001-05:002015-06-19T22:06:58.145-05:00Collin's Birth Story
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For
most of my pregnancy, when asked my due date, I'd say "June 4, but he'll
most likely be born in late May." Specifically, I thought he'd be
born sometime between May 21 and May 28.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
I
had a cerclage placed when I was 10 weeks pregnant to hopefully prevent preterm
labor and to prevent the necessity of bed rest. I had the exact same procedure
done when I was pregnant with Bennett because of the combined 20 weeks of bed
rest I endured while pregnant with Reid and Camille. With Bennett, once
the cerclage was removed at 37.5 weeks, he was born exactly one week
later. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The
cerclage removal was scheduled for May 21 which was a Thursday, and Brian and I
treated that as our deadline for being "ready" to have a 4th kid
(ha!). After the surgical procedure, the doctor said I was 3 cm dilated, and we
joked about possibly having a baby over Memorial Day weekend. The weekend
came and went with only sporadic contractions. On Wednesday night (almost
a week out), I began to think there was a very real possibility that I might be
in the early stages of labor. By about 10 pm I was having contractions
every 5 minutes that lasted a minute, but they just never felt quite strong
enough for me to justify calling the doctor. I decided to go to bed
figuring that if I was having a baby, surely I'd wake up and know. I woke
up about 5 hours later to go to the bathroom and realized I wasn't feeling a
single contraction.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The
next morning, I went for my 39 week OB appointment. I was still 3 cm
dilated. We discussed the options: 1) keep waiting 2) schedule a
"pseduo" induction which would just be breaking my water because I can't
have pitocin or other labor-augmenting drugs due to having had a previous
c-section 3) schedule a c-section. We decided to keep waiting. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Friday,
May 29 was eventful. I had been contracting off and on all day, and I
also had a headache that was getting worse by the evening. I finally
decided to go to bed in hopes that it was a migraine and it would dissipate
with sleep. I took Tylenol and went to sleep around 9 pm, but I kept
waking up with a throbbing headache. By 1:00am I was getting a little
worried about the headache being blood pressure related (even thought my BP had
been perfect throughout the pregnancy). I knew if I called the doctor on
call, they'd likely have me come in. I decided to call my dad and see if
I could borrow his blood pressure machine, just to get a reading at home.
My sweet dad came over around 2:00am, and we took my BP several times over half
an hour. We kept getting readings in the 140s/90s range (and even one in
the 150s/100s). This was concerning for me since I'm typically a 120/80
kind of girl. </div>
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<br /></div>
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So,
defeated, I called the on-call doctor. Of course, they told me to come in
to Labor and Delivery triage, and the doctor said if my BP remained high then
they would likely deliver the baby. My parents stayed with the kids, we went
into triage, and wouldn't you know, my very first BP reading was 116/78, AND my
headache had started to go away. My blood pressure readings over the next
couple of hours were all perfect. The theories about this are that the
headache was causing elevated blood pressure at home, the readings at home were
taken sitting up whereas the readings in L&D were taken with me on my left
side, or that the home monitor was really off (but my dad usually gets very
similar readings to what his doctor gets). In any case, I was very
relieved to be able to go back home around 5am Saturday. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The
next several days were a never-ending monotony of extreme discomfort and
contractions that never seemed to go anywhere. I went to the OB on June 2
for my (almost) 40 week appointment. I was dilated to 4 cm (so at least a
little progress!) and almost fully effaced. I also had an ultrasound that
showed a big, healthy baby who was unfortunately in the "sunny-side
up"/posterior position. This position can make if difficult for
labor to start and make for difficult and extra-painful labor and
delivery. My OB was willing to do the "pseudo" induction/
breaking of water at any time, and it was SO tempting to schedule it for the
next morning. However, after talking with my experienced doula, she
encouraged us to keep waiting and to go to the chiropractor and try some
positioning exercises to get the baby into optimal position. </div>
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<br /></div>
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That
day, I decided just to settle in for the long haul and not schedule any
induction. I made plans for the next few days like I wasn't going to have
a baby at any moment. I made it to Reid's end-of-kindergarten awards and
even his last day of school party on Friday, June 5. I couldn't believe
school was out, and I hadn't had this baby yet! We spent Friday afternoon
over at my parent's house playing with my sister's kids. I spent the
afternoon sitting on an exercise ball trying to bounce the baby out.
Friday night, I felt extra tired, and as soon as the kids were in bed, around 8
pm, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I crawled in bed and slept for
the rest of the night. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Saturday,
June 6, Reid had a soccer game at 10am, and we planned to go over to Brian's
parents' house later that afternoon to swim and eat dinner. I woke up
around 6:45 that morning and decided to take a hot epsom salt bath because I
was achy and crampy. I told Brian I really wasn't sure I wanted to go to the
soccer game because I was just huge, and pregnant and achy, and it was supposed
to be very hot and humid. We debated about Bennett staying home with me
so Brian wouldn't have to wrangle all the kids at the soccer field. When
I realized that Brian's mom was going to the game, we decided Brian would take
all the kids (thank goodness!). I helped get everyone ready, and they
left the house around 9:45. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I
started some laundry and picked up the house a little bit then I decided to
take advantage of the completely quiet house to rest. I curled up in bed
with my giant pregnancy pillow, and turned the TV on. We don't have
cable, and the only thing on was a re-run of Criminal Minds. After
resting for a minute, I realized I was contracting again. No big deal
except that this contraction felt lower and more crampy than before.
About 6 minutes later, it happened again. I just knew these contractions
were "real". By 10:30 am, I called Brian at the soccer game to
tell him I was having regular contractions 5-6 minutes apart that felt more
real than the previous ones, but that there was no need to rush
home. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I
got out of bed and walked around the house for a few minutes, and the
contractions continued. I decided to go ahead and fix my hair and put on
make-up in case we were going in to the hospital soon. The contractions
continued and were somewhat painful. I also contacted my doula to let her
know what was going on. She suggested I take a bath to see if that slowed
things down at all so I did. In the bath, I was timing contractions and
they were every 3 minutes and hurting more. By this time it somewhere
between 11:15 and 11:30, and I still hadn't heard from Brian. I called
him, and he said they were just leaving the soccer field. I told him to
ask his mom to come back to our house to watch the kids because I was pretty
positive this was the real thing.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I
was about to call my parents, who were planning to be at the hospital for the
birth, when my mom called me. It turns out, they had been at Reid's
soccer game too, and they were fully aware of the situation. I told them
we'd probably be going into the hospital within the next 2 hours. I also
realized that I was suddenly starving, and I asked my parents to stop and pick
up something for lunch for me (random!). </div>
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<br /></div>
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By
11:45, I heard Brian and the kids arrive back home, and I had just called the
on-call OB and left a message with the answering service. The
contractions were getting closer and stronger. I knew I needed to get out
of the bath and get dressed for the hospital, but I REALLY didn't want
to. I slowly made my way out of the tub, the OB called back at noon and I
was having such a strong contraction I could barely talk to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told me to come right
in. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The
next half hour is a blur--I was back in our bedroom with the doors closed, but
I was vaguely aware that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the kids,
my mother-in-law and my parents were all at the house. Brian was packing
up the car, and I was trying to give him instructions on last-minute
additions. My parents had my food, but by that point I was nauseated and
shaking and did not want to eat anything. I was trying to get dressed,
but each time I stood up, I seemed to have a stronger contraction. I
finally got dressed, and crawled onto my bed. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I
told Brian that I couldn't see the kids and tell them bye because the contractions
were so strong and close together and painful that I was afraid I would upset
them. The problem was, I needed to walk through the house to get to the
garage and to the car. Brian came up with the plan for me to go through
our bedroom door onto our patio, through the backyard and into the
driveway. He even closed the shutters in the family room so the kids
wouldn't see my getaway :-) </div>
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<br /></div>
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The
hospital is about 20 miles from our house, and I was so thankful that it was a
Saturday afternoon with light traffic. That car ride was intense.
When I had Bennett, I made it to about 8 cm without an epidural so I know what
strong contractions feel like. Somewhere between home and the hospital,
the contractions completely surpassed anything I had ever felt before. We
made it to the parking garage right outside of Labor and Delivery, but the
contractions were so strong and painful I thought I wasn't going to be able to
walk in. I waited through a couple more contractions leaning halfway in
and halfway out of Brian's car then found the strength to walk in. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Thank
goodness, the admissions people didn't make me sit in the little cubicle and
take all of my information and sign multiple forms. I think she asked
Brian a couple of questions and immediately called a nurse to take me
back. I was kneeling on the floor with my head on a chair when the nurse
came out, and she waited until that contraction was over before helping me walk
to a labor and delivery room. I remember hearing another nurse ask her if she
was going to take me to triage, and she replied that I was drenched in sweat
and kneeling on the floor so she figured she probably ought to take me straight
to a room. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
My
beloved OB who had delivered the other 3 kids was out of town that weekend, so
Dr. Tara Dullye was on call for him. I had met her several times, and she
actually assisted on my c-section with Reid so I was comfortable with her, and
honestly, at this point, I did not care who delivered this baby!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
Dr.
Dullye was already at the hospital when I arrived, and as soon as I was able to
crawl onto the hospital bed she checked my cervix—9 centimeters!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You would think this was awesome news,
but in reality it kind of scared me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes, this was my 4<sup>th</sup> kid, but the first was a scheduled
c-section, the second was a VBAC with an epidural around 6-7 cm and the third
was a VBAC with an epidural around 8 cm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had planned all along with this pregnancy to go totally natural.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had hired an expert doula (birth
attendant/coach) to help me through the process this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Shout out to Melissa Espey-Mueller
with North Dallas Doula Associates—she’s so knowledgeable and good!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the doula hadn’t arrived yet,
and I was honestly just scared of the pain and scared of the thought of doing
this all by myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
The
doula arrived about 10 minutes after we did, but truly everything was a blur by
that point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The back of the
hospital bed was elevated, and I was on my knees leaning over the back of the
bed. It was the only position that seemed remotely “doable” at that point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had thrown up a few times, and the
nurses were trying to start an IV access which is hospital policy since I had
previously had a c-section.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
also had to have me on continuous fetal monitoring so they were trying to get
that set up even though it was difficult with the position I was in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
The
contractions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh. My. Stars. The
contractions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was having major
back labor, and I just felt like my hips and lower back were going to explode
with each one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brian and the doula
were doing hip compressions with each contraction, and in my mind, they were
the ones causing the excruciating pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At one point, I yelled for them to stop then immediately realized that
the pain was MUCH worse without the compressions!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t screaming, but I was sweating, shaking, and
crying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it’s shocking that
I wasn’t a zen earth mama laboring goddess ;-)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe the only “mantras” that I was chanting were “no,
no, no!”, “ please make it stop”, “I can’t do this”, and “Oh God! Please help”.
</div>
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<br /></div>
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My
water had not yet broken, and the OB and the doula both kept encouraging me to
let the doctor break my water to speed up the end of labor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understood their point, but I knew
I’d have to roll onto my back for her to break my water, and the thought of
that just seemed impossible at that point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few more contractions, I think I agreed, and somehow
got on my back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She broke my
water, and I was 10 centimeters dilated and fully effaced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, there was also meconium
present in my amniotic fluid (just like with Bennett) so they started calling
down a NICU team to be present for delivery for suctioning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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It
seemed like once my water broke everyone thought the baby would be born in a
matter of minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The whole room
was set up, the doctor was in her gown, and the NICU team was ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, in spite of continuing
contractions, I felt no urge to push.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This went on for at least 45 minutes, and the doctor and doula believed
that the baby was probably still sunny-side up, or at least partially rotated,
which is why he wasn’t coming out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>During this 45 minutes, I upped my “crazy laboring lady” game by
repeatedly BEGGING the OB for narcotics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew it was too late for an epidural, but I had that IV access started
already, and I just kept thinking that if she gave me something…ANYTHING to
take the edge off then I might survive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dr. Dullye would sweetly tell me that it was too late and that giving me
narcotics that close to delivery would be bad for the baby and leave him
“stunned” and possibly struggling at birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In all my maternal glory, all I could think in response to
that was, “I don’t care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have
a NICU upstairs.” It’s terrible! Definitely not my finest moment!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But alas, no narcotics were
administered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
The
doula suggested moving me onto my side with one leg in a stirrup to try to get
the baby into position to push.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her knowledge really was invaluable at this point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I, of course, was resistant, because I
just didn’t want to move again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
did though, and around this time, the doctor stepped out of the room for a
minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The doula had told me at
some point that pushing would make me feel better—that I could “push away the
pain of the contraction”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
suddenly felt the slightest urge to push along with a very strong and painful
contraction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so fearful of
pushing for some reason, but I just grabbed on to that idea of pushing making
the contraction go away, and I started pushing with everything I had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was told I pushed twice, but I don’t
remember ever stopping pushing once I started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once I felt the burn of pushing I just wanted the baby out
that instant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
The
doctor wasn’t in the room, the nurse started paging her, and she ran in scrubs
without her gown on and couldn’t find another one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She realized there was no time to find another gown, and she
caught the baby just as he came out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I looked down for a moment and saw him coming out, but the doctor
immediately cut the cord and handed him off to the NICU team for suctioning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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For
the first 2-3 minutes, all I could do was cry—I almost felt like I was in shock
at what my body had just endured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I would also ask if the baby was okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though his first APGAR was a 3, he was quickly pink and
they told me his heart rate and breathing were fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He finally made one tiny cry, and I knew he was okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally got to hold my sweet
Collin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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The
official stats:</div>
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June
6, 2015 at 2:32 pm</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
8
pounds 7 ounces (our biggest baby by 5 ounces)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
20
¼ inches</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
4
hours and 32 minutes from first real contraction to delivery</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: .1pt;">
In
conclusion, the first words out of my mouth regarding natural childbirth after
pushing Collin out were “I can’t believe I just did that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was the dumbest decision of my
life!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I also know that I
would have been SO disappointed in myself if I had not followed through with my
natural childbirth plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t
say natural childbirth is for everyone, and if I was having a 5<sup>th</sup>
kid (WHICH I AM NOT. EVER.), I really would have to think long and hard about
whether I wanted another natural childbirth or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was painful, it was scary, it was stressful, but it was
also empowering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liken it to
running a marathon (another thing I’ll never do).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did it, it was insanely difficult, I never want to do it
again, and I want a sticker for the back of my car <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Times; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Times; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span>.</div>
The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-44537235473469387302012-12-09T23:40:00.000-06:002012-12-09T23:40:34.526-06:00Bennett's Birth Story: Part 2SO, it's 7 am on Thanksgiving morning and my contractions are 3 minutes apart. I calmly called to Brian who was sleeping soundly in our room. He stumbled into the bathroom, and I told him that I really thought I was in labor, and that he needed to call my parents to come over and watch the big kids. Brian called my mom and told her Happy Birthday (yes, Bennett was born on my mom's birthday!) and Happy Thanksgiving. She told him to cut the chit-chat and tell her if I was in labor.<br />
<br />
I also figured I should call my doctor's office just to make sure I should come in. I had to call and leave a message with the answering service. While I waited for them to call back, I decided to attend to truly important details. You see, when Camille was born, my water broke at home and I went into immediate hard labor. I was so stressed that I didn't stop to shower or put on make-up. I vowed that regardless of the circumstances, I would be wearing make-up when I delivered my 3rd child. It's important! So, I had Brian bring me my make-up bag in the bathtub. The contractions were getting increasingly strong and painful, and I did not want to get out of my warm bath! When Dr. Fogwell called me back (he was the doctor on call on Thanksgiving, thank goodness!), he confirmed that I needed to come in right away.<br />
<br />
By 7:30, I was dressed, I had make-up on, and I walked out into the living room and was greeted by my parents, Brian, Brian's friend Noel and Reid. I was trying to grab a few last-minute things for my hospital bag. I was walking around normally and then a contraction would hit and I'd end up on all fours on the floor breathing and rocking back and forth. The pain was getting VERY intense by this point. I'm pretty sure that my dad and Noel were tremendously disturbed by this. I kissed Reid good-bye, decided it was best not to wake Camille, and Brian and I got on the road (after he covered my seat in a waterproof outdoor blanket in case my water broke).<br />
<br />
As soon as we pulled out of the driveway, I started throwing up. I threw up a lot while in labor with Camille so it wasn't totally surprising, but it made for a miserable car ride. Brian and I were SO thankful it was Thanksgiving morning at this point because we live almost 20 miles from the hospital that I was delivering at, and on a typical weekday morning we would have been driving in rush hour traffic. It could easily have taken more than an hour, but there was no one on the roads, and we made it in just over 20 minutes. I had to survive the dreaded admissions process while in labor. I literally could not sit up in the chair in the little cubicle to fill out all the forms so I ended up kneeling on the floor and leaning with my head on the chair while Brian did the majority of the paperwork. Finally, a little after 8:30, we made it to L&D Room 11.<br />
<br />
At this point I met our L&D nurse Mary--she was a great match for me--nice, compassionate, witty and sarcastic. She was not a perky cheerleader type, thank heavens! My perfect, Plan A birth plan was to have a non-medicated birth with as little intervention as possible. To recap, Reid was a c-section because he was breech. Camille was a VBAC, and I had an epidural around 6 cm then pushed for 3 very painful hours during which I seriously doubted my epidural was functioning as I could move freely and was in lots of pain. By the time I was I was checked in L&D, I was 5 cm dilated. Because I had previously had a c-section, I was required to be on continuous electronic fetal monitoring and to at least have IV access started.<br />
<br />
What I remember about this period of time is that I was in bed, with the monitors on and having lots of very painful contractions. I was trying to stay relaxed, and I was breathing through contractions. I would ask Brian to put pressure on my lower back during contractions only to discover that his touch was causing more intense pain. I just could not figure out how to manage the intensity of the contractions. The nurse had a lot of difficulty starting my IV--after an unsuccessful attempt she called in the charge nurse. It took at least half an hour to get IV access, and all the while the contractions and nausea kept coming.<br />
<br />
Honestly, from the time we were in the car on the way to the hospital, all I could think about was the feeling of sweet relief that washed over me when I had my epidural with Camille. During all the IV drama, all I could think about was--"you don't have to feel this pain--just get the epidural and the pain will all melt away". I hadn't voiced these thoughts at all to anyone so I think they were pretty surprised when they finally got IV access but were about to do a saline lock since the IV didn't need to be used if I wasn't getting an epidural. I waited until I was not contracting, and calmly said, "I'm not having a contraction right now, I'm not panicking, but I want the epidural. I've decided I just don't want to feel the pain anymore, and all I can think about is how good the epidural will feel." At this point, it was sometime after 10 am, and I believe I was close to 8 cm.<br />
<br />
I got the epidural, and it was awesome! A very small part of me regrets getting it because I wonder if I could have done it on my own, but most of me is just thankful for medicine! Dr. Fogwell came in right after my epidural was placed and checked me (I was 8.5 cm and almost fully effaced), and he broke my water. As soon as my water broke, Dr. Fogwell told me that there was a slight problem. Apparently, my amniotic fluid revealed some serious meconium staining (basically, Bennett had already pooped in the womb. This was dangerous because there was a possibility that he could aspirate the meconium after he was born and started breathing on his own. This could lead to pneumonia and all sorts of yucky complications.) The doctor told me that it was protocol to have a NICU team present in my L&D room during delivery so that they could immediately evaluate the baby and thoroughly suction him.<br />
<br />
The sad news was, this meant that when the baby was born, he would immediately be taken from me (but kept in the room as long as he was okay). I was a little sad but mainly just concerned about the baby's health. <br />
<br />
The next couple of hours seemed to pass quickly to me because I was feeling good. Brian watched a little Thanksgiving day football. We chatted with Allison Duckworth, our birth photographer. I realized that I had caused everyone to miss Thanksgiving dinner--Brian's mom had been about to put the turkey in the oven when Brian called to say I was in labor. They decided to postpone the meal and headed to the hospital. By the time I had my epidural and felt like talking, I realized that Steve and Connie (Brian's parents) and Matt, Cat and Teegan (Brian's brother, sister-in-law, and niece) were all in the waiting room eating the hospital cafeteria version of a turkey dinner. My parents were back at our house with our kiddos.<br />
<br />
By 1:15 pm I was dilated to 10 cm and ready to push. Brian still had football on, and I remember the TV was directly in my line of site, and all I could see was Kid Rock performing the halftime show. I told him to turn off the TV because the last thing I wanted was the image of Kid Rock in my mind when I gave birth to our child :-) By this time, my doctor was having the nurse call the NICU team fairly urgently because although I hadn't started pushing, he indicated that this baby was going to be born SOON. After the 3 hours of pushing with Camille, I was SO thrilled that I only pushed 3.5 times and out came Bennett James McFarland at 1:28 pm weighing 8 pounds 1 ounce. <br />
<br />
Dr. Fogwell suctioned him a lot right away then cut the umbilical cord and handed him to the NICU team. He cried a tiny bit which was such a relief to me! The poor baby was green because he was so covered in poop. It was in his hair and his eyelashes. The umbilical cord stump was bright green. The NICU team suctioned him vigorously, and he started getting a bit pinker and wiggling around. After about 5 minutes of suctioning and monitoring, the nurses indicated that overall he looked pretty good but that his breathing was much too rapid (normal respiratory rate in a newborn is 40-60 breaths per minute, and Bennett was breathing about 120 times per minute). He was also using a lot of accessory muscles to breathe. These factors caused enough concern that the NICU nurses wanted to transfer him up to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit to to be evaluated. So, they handed me my bundled up baby for less than a minute and I gazed at his sweet face. I immediately saw that he looked SO much like his big brother Reid. I kissed his little button nose, and away he went to the NICU with Brian walking next to his little hospital bed. <br />
<br />
TO BE CONTINUED...The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-3892287320424861952012-12-09T21:26:00.000-06:002012-12-09T21:26:33.573-06:00Bennett's Birth Story: Part 1Yes, there are parts to this story. I am a very detail-oriented person, and I'm writing this story for
myself and for my family to remember the time surrounding Bennett's
birth. So pardon the lengthy and detailed account. Our birth story isn't a quick one... And, yes, it is a birth story so I may refer to things like dilation and placentas...maybe ;-) <br />
<br />
I had a Shirodkar cerclage placed at 11 weeks of pregnancy to hopefully keep me off of bed rest this time around. It worked perfectly! The only issue was, it had to be removed before the baby was born (unless I had a c-section, in which case they could have left it in permanently--weird!). I was scheduled to have the cerclage removed on November 15 which put me at 37.5 weeks pregnant. My awesome OB told us that once the cerclage was out, there was a small chance I would immediately go into labor OR I could continue on to full term. I love a concrete plan ;-) In any case, Brian and I had been treating the 15th as our deadline for getting everything ready. I wanted to make sure bags were packed, arrangements were made for the big kids, and, hopefully the nursery was finished. <br />
<br />
On the 15th, Brian and I went to Reid's Thanksgiving parade and feast at his preschool then Brian accompanied me to my doctor's appointment and procedure "just in case". After the procedure was complete the doctor said, I think you may have a baby by this weekend (it was Thursday). I wasn't dilated but I was 50% effaced. I didn't feel like I was in labor or anything so home we went.<br />
<br />
We spent the weekend waiting, being productive and spending quality family time. With my parent's help, I took the kids to a play date with the Loyds at Chick Fil A on Friday. Friday night we hit Ikea as a family for a finishing touch for the nursery. Saturday morning we went to breakfast at Cafe Brazil with the kids and then played at Central Market's playground. Saturday evening we hit Lowe's and Starbucks as a family. Sunday I waddled around and did my church nursery coordinator job, we went to church and we had lunch with Brian's parents at Jason's Deli after church. After lunch, I got some good quality time with Reid. We went to Target to get him a new hat and mittens then to Tom Thumb for some grocery shopping. That evening we went to our church small group's Thanksgiving celebration. I was on my feet all day long. You'd think it would be enough to get labor started! Sunday night, while I was putting Camille in bed, I started having regular contractions for a couple of hours, and then they stopped. Basically, as long as I was sitting up, or on my feet, contractions were happening regularly. Then, when I was able to spend time lying down, they would dissipate.<br />
<br />
This same pattern of contractions starting and stopping occurred ALL day Monday. Brian worked from home for part of the day, my parents came over and kept the kids occupied, everyone watched me. Nothing happened.<br />
<br />
Tuesday Brian stayed at home long enough to help me and the kids get ready and in the car, then I took the kids to his parents house and went to my regularly scheduled doctor's appointment for that week. Driving myself to the doctor's appointment, I started contracting so much that I was sure I was going to end up in "real" labor. I was calculating how long it would take for Brian to meet me at the hospital and kicking myself for not having brought my hospital bag in the car with me. I saw the doctor, and he said I was 3 cm dilated and 80% effaced. By that time, contractions had died down again, and the doctor didn't feel I was in active labor since the contractions kept stalling out. So, home I went to rest and relax. That night, after Brian asked me what the plan was for dinner, and I almost hit him, we ended up taking the kids to Chick Fil A so they could eat and burn some energy. That night the contractions and cramping were so intense that I told Brian at one point that I wasn't sure we were going to make it through the night without going to the hospital. Alas, things died down, and we made it through the night.<br />
<br />
By Wednesday, I had decided that none of these contractions meant anything, and that this baby would probably arrive after his due date just like his sister. The issue I was having is that it was nearly impossible to go about daily life. The contractions I was having weren't exactly painful, but they were very uncomfortable and made it difficult to physically care for a 2 year old and 3 year old. I felt like I was so close to giving birth, but I kept reminding myself that I was only 38 weeks pregnant and that I could still stay pregnant for another 2-3 weeks. The thought terrified me because I was just SO uncomfortable.<br />
<br />
Brian was taking Wednesday off since it was the day before Thanksgiving, and we made plans to meet my parents at a park near our houses to have a picnic, let the kids play and enjoy the unseasonably warm weather. We had tons of fun, and I spent time swinging on the swing set with the kids--trying to convince the baby to fly out or something. We finalized our plans for Thanksgiving dinner since by this point it seemed I'd actually make it to celebrate Turkey Day with our families. <br />
<br />
Wednesday night, we randomly had company. Brian's best friend from high school, Noel, was passing through town on his way to a BMX competition in Tulsa. We teased him that I would go into labor that night and he'd have to take care of this kids for us while we went to the hospital. He got to sleep in the freshly finished nursery/guest bed room. We had Chipotle take-out for dinner, the kids watched Cars 2, we read books as a family of 4 up in Camille's room and tucked the kids into bed. By this time, it was about 8:30 pm, I was exhausted and still contracting, so I was the world's worst hostess and excused myself and went and crawled into bed. <br />
<br />
I slept fairly well until about 4:30 or 5:00 am. At that point, I woke up and realized I was very crampy. Reid woke up crying, and Brian went up to put him back in bed, and when he came back, I think I told him again that I thought I might be getting closer to real labor. He went back to sleep :-) I started realizing that the "cramps" were occurring at regular intervals, but they weren't overly painful. Between 6:15-6:30 am on Thanksgiving morning, I started to suspect that these were "real" contractions. I got out of bed and took a warm bath and started timing my contractions. After a few minutes, I realized that my contractions were 3 minutes apart and lasting about a minute. They were definitely getting stronger and more painful! So 3 1/2 days after semi-regular contractions began, I was pretty sure I was finally in active labor!<br />
<br />
TO BE CONTINUED...The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-78148414219992984642012-12-01T15:44:00.002-06:002012-12-01T15:44:39.646-06:00One week (and two days) old.Precious Bennett,<br />
<br />
Today is Saturday, December 1, 2012, and you are one week and two days old. I wanted to continue on with my tradition of writing my babies a letter on the day they turned one week old, but I missed the mark by a couple of days. My sweet boy, I'm afraid that this may be the first of many times that your mommy isn't quite as on top of things as she was with your siblings, but make no mistake--we adore you, and you are a treasured member of our family. <br />
<br />
From the moment I happily discovered I was pregnant with you, your daddy and I knew you would be a game-changer. As crazy as our lives were with your siblings, we were about to add a newborn to the mix. However, we were excited from day one--we couldn't wait to find out what you would be and who you would be! We were so curious to see how Reid and Camille would react to finding out you were on the way and to welcoming you into their world. <br />
<br />
I felt like you were going to be a boy from the very beginning. My pregnancy seemed so similar to when I was pregnant with Reid. As tiring and difficult as it could be to take care of your siblings while being pregnant, I truly treasured being pregnant with you. I loved my doctor's appointments and getting to see you grown on ultrasound. I loved feeling you start to move, and daddy was so excited the first time he felt you as our whole family lounged in bed watching cartoons in the mountains of Colorado in July. I felt like nighttime was my special time with you--I'd snuggle into bed and feel you kick, punch and roll until I fell asleep. You were always moving! If I woke in the night, it wasn't long before I'd feel you wriggling around inside of me. Reid loved putting his hand on my belly to see if he could feel you kick, and he'd giggle and smile ear-to-ear each time he felt you. <br />
<br />
We have loved preparing your brother and sister for your arrival. They were so excited to read books about babies and being an older sibling. We've been reading them for months! Every time Camille sees an ultrasound picture she would show it to everyone exclaiming, "Baby brother!". They loved "helping" us get your nursery ready, and Reid was convinced you should sleep there on your first night home. <br />
<br />
When Mommy and Daddy joyfully welcomed you into the world at 1:28 pm on November 22, 2012, you were instantly a part of our family. We couldn't imagine our lives without you. Looking at you is just like looking at your big brother when he was a newborn--except your hair is darker. We know you will have your own sweet and special personality to contribute, and we can't wait to watch it develop. <br />
<br />
Watching your brother and sister meet you for the first time was one of the sweetest moments of my life. They were instantly drawn to you and wanted to examine every detail of your face, hair, feet and hands. (Your big brother is also quite intrigued by your umbilical cord stump :-) ) Hearing Reid whispering your name while patting your hair made me tear up. And Camille--she LOVES you with her whole heart and sometimes in an aggressive fashion. She mostly calls you "Baby" so far, but from the moment she wakes up in the morning she wants to know where "Baby" is and what "Baby" is doing and if "Baby" is okay. Reid and Camille were watching out the front windows when we brought you home from the hospital. As soon as the car pulled up, they came bursting out the front door with blue balloons in hand. Reid was shouting, "Yippee, hurray!" over and over. They were so excited their baby was home. <br />
<br />
Life right now may be a little chaotic, but without a doubt, you are one loved little boy. You are adored by your immediate family, 4 grandparents, 3 great-grandparents, and LOTS of aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. Your daddy and I are so happy that God has entrusted us with such a precious gift, and we can't wait to see the plans He has in store for you. <br />
<br />
Love,<br />
MommyThe McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-53987292533833456452010-10-16T22:09:00.004-05:002010-10-16T22:45:58.524-05:00Our Beautiful, Insane LifeThe last month has been absolutely insane. Reid was high-maintenance as a baby--always wanted to be held, fought sleep, fussy in the evenings, not a great sleeper at night, etc... I was so very hopeful that Camille was going to be the "easy" baby. You know...the one who is always content, rarely cries, sleeps in their bassinet angelically.<br /><br />Lets just say that Reid and Camille may not look a whole lot alike right now, but they share similar personalities. Sweet Jesus, help me! Camille is not a bad baby. She's not colicky. She does not cry for hours on end. She simply thinks that she needs to be in my arms ALL THE TIME. She can be sound asleep in my arms but as soon as I put her down she wakes up. Crying. She sleeps for 3-4 hours at a time at night...as long as I hold her or snuggle her next to me in bed. She would also like to eat 24-7. She will ride in the Ergo carrier strapped to the front of me which is how I prepare Reid's food, clean the kitchen, do laundry, etc... And the last week or so she is finally letting me put her on her play mat or in her swing for <span style="font-style: italic;">brief</span> intervals.<br /><br />Add to the newborn insanity Hurricane Reid. That child never stops. He is such a great kid. He is smart, he's adorable, and he plays well by himself and with others. However, he is throwing some horrendous tantrums lately. I'm talking tantrums with every diaper change, almost every time he goes in his car seat, sometimes when he goes in his booster seat to eat and frequently when he is told "no". And these tantrums are kicking, screaming, back-arching, body-throwing, bang-your-head-into-the-back-of-the-chair performances every blasted time. This is easily my least favorite part of parenting thus far.<br /><br />So, yes, life is insane. Yet there are so many precious moments during each day: Camille snuggled on my chest...so tiny and innocent, Reid's adorable little voice chattering away, Reid bringing Camille a pacifier or covering her with a blanket, Camille smiling at me, Reid learning to do something new. The list goes on and on. It always seems that when I've reached the absolute end of my patience, one of them does something to soften my heart and remind me that this is such a sweet and fleeting time in our lives. As crazy as it seems now, I know that one day I will miss this craziness.<br /><br />And now, pictures!<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBC7R4j756UzFezSgWK9aXENrZFj6IMrv2kShlUpq-Vv8pFMQNhVE_T2J3YflEUhNAxxpPfdi7ABwrbJOdIzz2bcW7I7v1Jz2FFPa2dnzta7u8D4_7MKuYnU30tgQnxlyxnsgRnpvYTtpK/s1600/IMG_1512.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBC7R4j756UzFezSgWK9aXENrZFj6IMrv2kShlUpq-Vv8pFMQNhVE_T2J3YflEUhNAxxpPfdi7ABwrbJOdIzz2bcW7I7v1Jz2FFPa2dnzta7u8D4_7MKuYnU30tgQnxlyxnsgRnpvYTtpK/s400/IMG_1512.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528854241479541186" border="0" /></a>Reid and BeBe playing with is new police car. (Have a mentioned that the help of both sides of our family has been a lifesaver?!)<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq_KTp0kugFJrW9iqFlsxEcLIt3VyMVei8uA09p7Amhz5FhbwKiSU5Jv5ypXLcXeDp9ty2OiI9FJsLgFML9F9TYm2B3UZ4K_A2DhuRua2EkoFpP6RVycrIibz8CVq4ijNX8V3qzfsgCQa/s1600/IMG_1472.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYq_KTp0kugFJrW9iqFlsxEcLIt3VyMVei8uA09p7Amhz5FhbwKiSU5Jv5ypXLcXeDp9ty2OiI9FJsLgFML9F9TYm2B3UZ4K_A2DhuRua2EkoFpP6RVycrIibz8CVq4ijNX8V3qzfsgCQa/s400/IMG_1472.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528854234804639762" border="0" /></a>Camille at one week old.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZBTKZH_QSIICxWHu_Xo0HTG7nH2kilC39mjqUzKS7BITD4_x318eBQY4Q9HC3pMMpTQNX3pIjhsAMvlSuTE5ZqwdpKpQq9Z6T1DcArn90pDgnnAlWmdfksnAURAyMb8e0nU2cNRaaytn/s1600/IMG_1475.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZBTKZH_QSIICxWHu_Xo0HTG7nH2kilC39mjqUzKS7BITD4_x318eBQY4Q9HC3pMMpTQNX3pIjhsAMvlSuTE5ZqwdpKpQq9Z6T1DcArn90pDgnnAlWmdfksnAURAyMb8e0nU2cNRaaytn/s400/IMG_1475.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528854232747019794" border="0" /></a>Such a big boy!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_lPggPRdwEyTWhFg8uVcDFuDhNJtmf5S-jId2X9Ii3dCTd39tSODv6bN_IrmY4su2KtEbBrpzls4o2hXDpuWg0kzrswZBtUxqoaNQFcX_LDg3c7ND_cJr77Fe3ZbmLUrPk-d8W9RugGY/s1600/IMG_1483.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_lPggPRdwEyTWhFg8uVcDFuDhNJtmf5S-jId2X9Ii3dCTd39tSODv6bN_IrmY4su2KtEbBrpzls4o2hXDpuWg0kzrswZBtUxqoaNQFcX_LDg3c7ND_cJr77Fe3ZbmLUrPk-d8W9RugGY/s400/IMG_1483.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528854230919851234" border="0" /></a>Snuggling with my sweetie.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLGS_F6q8ToGOFxcjH43BahjWncDwldlBOvCOJUClZHO6GMBDIT4ohiszMiBjSjat_gI3MFZXX3MQKC-UKOmk36MtBemqcN-BPQVWTAZnVebtH0ZKyffiJ8NZt3AGutP2Y1k_p2IjspZ7/s1600/IMG_1489.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLGS_F6q8ToGOFxcjH43BahjWncDwldlBOvCOJUClZHO6GMBDIT4ohiszMiBjSjat_gI3MFZXX3MQKC-UKOmk36MtBemqcN-BPQVWTAZnVebtH0ZKyffiJ8NZt3AGutP2Y1k_p2IjspZ7/s400/IMG_1489.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528853054265503138" border="0" /></a>Reid loving on his baby sister. He's such a great brother!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3JyQeilz1vXtw5pAhzTTxsWfcSk-mPuGDURtsEznDsKHe30jEMmsM7gqk7pBAbrjKrvPbDDIzOMysyWlUPuFLsxNYe5Iy7MkAW-jVa356wWdEDDmYjU3NgRL34Bjf0pPw4u69M0TAFYyd/s1600/IMG_1498.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3JyQeilz1vXtw5pAhzTTxsWfcSk-mPuGDURtsEznDsKHe30jEMmsM7gqk7pBAbrjKrvPbDDIzOMysyWlUPuFLsxNYe5Iy7MkAW-jVa356wWdEDDmYjU3NgRL34Bjf0pPw4u69M0TAFYyd/s400/IMG_1498.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528853051197534930" border="0" /></a>Playing on her play mat.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1NXVeqdIW6VsBzFYKISNSakuQN8dMcWQI43ibkMbCILnAXEeD3m8LAK4oXLueBpPOrlCdZR9W3EMo47uJuNLwmtmaC4c0HQSqU84INUniZEZKNS1QijAbyJL4X3Y9Es39BLZWYzTc912/s1600/IMG_1499.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1NXVeqdIW6VsBzFYKISNSakuQN8dMcWQI43ibkMbCILnAXEeD3m8LAK4oXLueBpPOrlCdZR9W3EMo47uJuNLwmtmaC4c0HQSqU84INUniZEZKNS1QijAbyJL4X3Y9Es39BLZWYzTc912/s400/IMG_1499.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528853048637249746" border="0" /></a>First real bath. Her cord stump took 4 weeks to fall off!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tBrrEodzSD6R1gI6nM5kMtEoIjVm8WUgjrFhAY1O-u3Q8o449eMZ1NJYYV2DQM8Kw7GtymSsTlzVUbcESyAqMDatDw-D-9uTnT7zEDq2yGeTP-EdoecaVPoWaPU6xz0ekqZzOjRY9tDk/s1600/IMG_1592.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tBrrEodzSD6R1gI6nM5kMtEoIjVm8WUgjrFhAY1O-u3Q8o449eMZ1NJYYV2DQM8Kw7GtymSsTlzVUbcESyAqMDatDw-D-9uTnT7zEDq2yGeTP-EdoecaVPoWaPU6xz0ekqZzOjRY9tDk/s400/IMG_1592.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528853044540339458" border="0" /></a>My pretty girl.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyuXQSbWGKRgGzIatXEIgieHiok7bDpPJMKW7b2eHNZ-PdTsyJKZ6CXmS38sjoWROFY0mqfWuJzSEhMbZfwKai8jOJJt_T7wHyc6DXhMIilfJpCx-0YgOHWU93r0Xd6OxMGv3Q1TvZSdN/s1600/IMG_1609.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyuXQSbWGKRgGzIatXEIgieHiok7bDpPJMKW7b2eHNZ-PdTsyJKZ6CXmS38sjoWROFY0mqfWuJzSEhMbZfwKai8jOJJt_T7wHyc6DXhMIilfJpCx-0YgOHWU93r0Xd6OxMGv3Q1TvZSdN/s400/IMG_1609.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528853042429604146" border="0" /></a>And the official one month old chair picture. Reid let her borrow his teddy bear.<br /></div>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-12154274519486907322010-10-07T20:58:00.002-05:002010-10-07T21:02:34.478-05:00Professional Picture Gallery<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span><br />Here is the link for the online photo gallery of Camille's newborn photo shoot. The password is "reid". Enjoy!<br /><br /><a href="http://http://eleventhirtysiximages.com/viewing/?slideshowID=86570"><br />http://eleventhirtysiximages.com/viewing/?slideshowID=86570</a>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-22304031299626413182010-09-19T21:52:00.005-05:002010-09-19T22:23:14.512-05:00Pictures of Camille<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONFv8lFrKOfAmtAh33aa3dFl5_KuNis5xlHA65Sp4SS95IiGhO3CgNF-jinvqVWRNulwslaoessuxrfcuxonLuq4XIeVI76ZdQ3-qVoWWvbGKDp0pnpLWHGIlptOEUceGZoml85M3Byba/s1600/IMG_1372.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONFv8lFrKOfAmtAh33aa3dFl5_KuNis5xlHA65Sp4SS95IiGhO3CgNF-jinvqVWRNulwslaoessuxrfcuxonLuq4XIeVI76ZdQ3-qVoWWvbGKDp0pnpLWHGIlptOEUceGZoml85M3Byba/s400/IMG_1372.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518826837621500082" border="0" /></a>This picture was taken about 10 minutes after my water broke. We are walking out the door to go to the hospital. I may be having a contraction which would explain the forced smile. Our last picture as a family of three...<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_bfV_VrStQKiTj90OHcQUcFCo9wrpXRQ-IMapEmKXwsuOcseFz85-sJST7uAXGnAWz_JZeVDl1kUqDOwFa_cCUEbcCTb6vGfurfDQB9FIpA6mfPhIsd9gx6JwT3yKfpM_EsMmz-wxUohF/s1600/IMG_7251.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_bfV_VrStQKiTj90OHcQUcFCo9wrpXRQ-IMapEmKXwsuOcseFz85-sJST7uAXGnAWz_JZeVDl1kUqDOwFa_cCUEbcCTb6vGfurfDQB9FIpA6mfPhIsd9gx6JwT3yKfpM_EsMmz-wxUohF/s400/IMG_7251.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518826826008698530" border="0" /></a>And poof! Ten hours later, the baby magically appears.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizG-Fbuk0jkTijPGL0zKG09wtZN008Nah90TJI0ByF3pUb0YUW_hO2l6aZpEs3r-LwXDiMyFgpo3SyZEwjEkxiO1TpOy7pEeX23pdJcC4qGUy7q9LSznAv3yq-zaY0Wydmv1xZ1WsgJDlF/s1600/IMG_7252.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizG-Fbuk0jkTijPGL0zKG09wtZN008Nah90TJI0ByF3pUb0YUW_hO2l6aZpEs3r-LwXDiMyFgpo3SyZEwjEkxiO1TpOy7pEeX23pdJcC4qGUy7q9LSznAv3yq-zaY0Wydmv1xZ1WsgJDlF/s400/IMG_7252.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518826821759188498" border="0" /></a>This picture was taken around 2:30 a.m. when my parents could finally come back and see us. I'm impressed they hung in there--they are NOT middle-of-the-night party people. Come to think of it, neither am I.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tDwknhwLrBfYHxc-Usy6ANRsiKSH4iNOFvLvwYGW13JCcyS9ShWZVzgRsDJQI7IPjEHiDpluHjpaxHuGXxdi-WMD_w50EjCQ4XlF776pORLw6WOxMRbrSe0sMSPlKvj8Cb4LsU5ePp9X/s1600/IMG_1375.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tDwknhwLrBfYHxc-Usy6ANRsiKSH4iNOFvLvwYGW13JCcyS9ShWZVzgRsDJQI7IPjEHiDpluHjpaxHuGXxdi-WMD_w50EjCQ4XlF776pORLw6WOxMRbrSe0sMSPlKvj8Cb4LsU5ePp9X/s400/IMG_1375.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518826814599228802" border="0" /></a>When Reid was born and taken to the nursery for his first bath both sets of grandparents and my sister stayed outside the window to watch his first bath. When we dropped off Camille at the nursery for her bath it was 3:30 a.m. No one was at the hospital with us. We were exhausted. This is the one picture that was taken before Brian and I left our sweet girl in the nursery. Let the younger sibling complex begin! (She was back in my arms within an hour--I'm not a horrible mother!)<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaXVreYdgwXwjHKfzAcTZ5_qM2HFLpMOqZc_kZ7WQ1ZH4UDbq4Xar5XcM6oZcLct3EwnCNrZwWeJycPUDgcZBqmObr_27MjlDdLTxDBOW6lk58No0X7o4Hzh1it9ashS4gBTopWYwRWFYM/s1600/IMG_7275.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaXVreYdgwXwjHKfzAcTZ5_qM2HFLpMOqZc_kZ7WQ1ZH4UDbq4Xar5XcM6oZcLct3EwnCNrZwWeJycPUDgcZBqmObr_27MjlDdLTxDBOW6lk58No0X7o4Hzh1it9ashS4gBTopWYwRWFYM/s400/IMG_7275.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825855539334498" border="0" /></a>Reid seeing Camille for the first time around 10:00 a.m. on her birthday.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieg8512b4IbUfe-VjA2bhyw-aA5IWSWl56qnARtaqD0kB0kL3k9U2oWvrtXVHoWevZV3_MMZWarhg9fSHcICG9bbsXyNb425mUfgFOB_H09HW3Gbc1gObuW4NCUzrjQ2kzKqt-aQyIEL54/s1600/IMG_7256.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieg8512b4IbUfe-VjA2bhyw-aA5IWSWl56qnARtaqD0kB0kL3k9U2oWvrtXVHoWevZV3_MMZWarhg9fSHcICG9bbsXyNb425mUfgFOB_H09HW3Gbc1gObuW4NCUzrjQ2kzKqt-aQyIEL54/s400/IMG_7256.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825845296416418" border="0" /></a>Our family of four! Can you see Camille's face?<span style="font-style: italic;"> Nope</span>. Did we buy Reid's happiness with a Matchbox firetruck? <span style="font-style: italic;"> Absolutely.</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSi1XyFzUuall4u1Z4s9ivdSCnQiVZsFYahx0AZmVAIzsGPaM8IuYGPlyeVQ8lFk_5KgvCltOK5XMETRNDt8sQonQ6nYujeldVMJmVEn7v1XCiMfRcm4AhjkZf446WFKkVp92iMPWAkhKY/s1600/IMG_7293.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSi1XyFzUuall4u1Z4s9ivdSCnQiVZsFYahx0AZmVAIzsGPaM8IuYGPlyeVQ8lFk_5KgvCltOK5XMETRNDt8sQonQ6nYujeldVMJmVEn7v1XCiMfRcm4AhjkZf446WFKkVp92iMPWAkhKY/s400/IMG_7293.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825841911995106" border="0" /></a>Happy Birthday, sweet Camille!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIOFhgMhkaWC1I9Q6JE1wtP_-tY3j4YA2MRH1W0rernWcyb-4kunTOfrVVI22On4KpXbkOnHR6dSlZAcMqSzqvZQCeTwozEzd9DKPoLhA6kgatzilCgcWZIMgxCBSK9aF-VqDwwGaDx0c/s1600/IMG_7279.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIOFhgMhkaWC1I9Q6JE1wtP_-tY3j4YA2MRH1W0rernWcyb-4kunTOfrVVI22On4KpXbkOnHR6dSlZAcMqSzqvZQCeTwozEzd9DKPoLhA6kgatzilCgcWZIMgxCBSK9aF-VqDwwGaDx0c/s400/IMG_7279.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825833161027074" border="0" /></a>Reid assisting with the spit-up suction. Such a big helper already!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmOqjGj7Pl1irLXIab4o7X_Bg15O4Ve4F1k9al7U986VX8VtPhuwN46uVnlO6b07xvuyun1HIk_q_WNIGJSxOk7NEGdW0pjqM2Ov6eyjExQMkimP6eiX4P0qIZTAUu28-kfvbZBcTs2jY/s1600/IMG_7313.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmOqjGj7Pl1irLXIab4o7X_Bg15O4Ve4F1k9al7U986VX8VtPhuwN46uVnlO6b07xvuyun1HIk_q_WNIGJSxOk7NEGdW0pjqM2Ov6eyjExQMkimP6eiX4P0qIZTAUu28-kfvbZBcTs2jY/s400/IMG_7313.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518825824373324338" border="0" /></a>A little mother-daughter chat before leaving the hospital<br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqqnlWwV2mABPNSA0k3Y7yE58UwJT4quqLwOi260HCOIUZK-hyI3l7RvrEQQCN-KZn8UkJ8Mo4eigXWisCmxgcfrWA8mI1ZzAQkBH7XCKfgyMrtsulUb6PgrpwFaZDMWjwTfM8SoVxc-V/s1600/IMG_1389.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqqnlWwV2mABPNSA0k3Y7yE58UwJT4quqLwOi260HCOIUZK-hyI3l7RvrEQQCN-KZn8UkJ8Mo4eigXWisCmxgcfrWA8mI1ZzAQkBH7XCKfgyMrtsulUb6PgrpwFaZDMWjwTfM8SoVxc-V/s400/IMG_1389.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518824610390547058" border="0" /></a>All dressed up and ready for the ride home.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjBK8PSKemFrhbaHgIoZds0jtmlTy-9zfqSPZxc75xEKkDxUYpvRrYwqCzSo505-P4HMBJze9cVVDhyphenhyphenz0dp7gX3fnmwBs-C23okNNE9Szee6524hAiFZdzH2NTsnDcp-jfcGn97YdQr9jd/s1600/IMG_7330.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjBK8PSKemFrhbaHgIoZds0jtmlTy-9zfqSPZxc75xEKkDxUYpvRrYwqCzSo505-P4HMBJze9cVVDhyphenhyphenz0dp7gX3fnmwBs-C23okNNE9Szee6524hAiFZdzH2NTsnDcp-jfcGn97YdQr9jd/s400/IMG_7330.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518824603059512034" border="0" /></a>As you can see, Reid is <span style="font-style: italic;">thrilled</span> to be taking his little sister home for the first time.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJ7GBZhEzjkL6EhuKv5KlSEvX38og9U8MmUL2s7A2cdwHvRlh9H9n3G6mtyx_lb4i9pTlHu4l-JQJXMDms8V3cQ2CbMUYTuc9nVc9MdhKM_OimJSA9KVBKu3Ntkyt8v5y_2k0NqKxLFFR/s1600/IMG_7349.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJ7GBZhEzjkL6EhuKv5KlSEvX38og9U8MmUL2s7A2cdwHvRlh9H9n3G6mtyx_lb4i9pTlHu4l-JQJXMDms8V3cQ2CbMUYTuc9nVc9MdhKM_OimJSA9KVBKu3Ntkyt8v5y_2k0NqKxLFFR/s400/IMG_7349.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518824617952106626" border="0" /></a>My sweet parents adorned our house with pink balloons to welcome Camille home.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6wDBqzdTM8t8reKvwLX6Fx1sgBicSqTFgtZHm0aw4CcC2DFYfr0czi-DwVu4jDKNwBevctfgClMI4-oFnqW9OYvevjCwGMArQssKpm7WHAz8LwiHLXhWP-l6hEhlQv7VK_8BIysw_UJA/s1600/IMG_7339.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6wDBqzdTM8t8reKvwLX6Fx1sgBicSqTFgtZHm0aw4CcC2DFYfr0czi-DwVu4jDKNwBevctfgClMI4-oFnqW9OYvevjCwGMArQssKpm7WHAz8LwiHLXhWP-l6hEhlQv7VK_8BIysw_UJA/s400/IMG_7339.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518824595615807090" border="0" /></a>First picture at home<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6nG3dHLiW5sIbmmjVRKvGb1xkj75vXuc7cydWsa_oVkQpf2UY13wkKQXlxuQwhlA_4VYkEDAxqbhBG242mmG_04IeVZJpB5bNk3qWiJf10RF1WRNtwJsfxyJOKKRhUSjc9F_REzDiEvz/s1600/IMG_1412.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6nG3dHLiW5sIbmmjVRKvGb1xkj75vXuc7cydWsa_oVkQpf2UY13wkKQXlxuQwhlA_4VYkEDAxqbhBG242mmG_04IeVZJpB5bNk3qWiJf10RF1WRNtwJsfxyJOKKRhUSjc9F_REzDiEvz/s400/IMG_1412.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518824586340144850" border="0" /></a>The morning after our first night at home--also Daddy's 31st birthday. Happy Birthday, Daddy!<br /><br /></div>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-72698205038301923062010-09-16T21:28:00.003-05:002010-09-16T22:08:35.192-05:00One Week Old-A letter to CamilleMy precious Camille Geneva,<br /><br />Today you are one week old, and you are our miracle. Everything about you has surprised us so far! Daddy and I were surprised to learn we were pregnant with you a couple of days after Christmas in 2009. It took us quite awhile to get pregnant with your brother, and we were amazed that it was so easy this time. <br /><br />We were so surprised to learn that you were a little girl! I wanted to have a little girl so badly, but given Daddy's family tree, it seemed likely that we would have a houseful of boys. There haven't been any girls born on the McFarland side of the family for 85 years! In late March 2010, Daddy and I went to the big ultrasound and doctor's appointment. Even before the ultrasound tech said anything, I could see that you were a girl. Daddy said he knew by the huge smile on my face that we were having a girl. <br /><br />A couple of weeks later, in mid-April, we were surprised to learn that our doctor was already worried about our pregnancy with you. You weren't even halfway to your due date! I cried in the doctor's office and asked what we could do to make sure you would be born big and safe and healthy. I was so worried for my precious little girl. I spent the next 3 1/2 months on bed rest trying to keep you safe. Those early weeks of bed rest, I was often paralyzed with fear for you. You kept right on wiggling and kicking all day, every day as if to reassure me that you were okay. I treasured every ultrasound that we had, and I loved seeing you grow bigger and stronger with every passing week. <br /><br />We were surprised that we made it to our "goal" of 34 weeks pregnant with you. We felt so blessed to have gotten you to a point where you would likely be just fine even if you were born a little early. And then you <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> surprised everyone as you continued growing and seemed very happy to stay inside Mommy week after week after week. <br /><br />Our precious little girl, we worried about you so much, but you showed us how resilient and amazing you are as you grew inside of mommy even past your due date! And then, very early on the morning of September 9, 2010, you made your arrival. <br /><br />You are big and healthy and strong--all the things that we prayed for. You weighed 8 pounds 2 ounces and were perfect in every way. I was so very tired after you were born. They finally wheeled us up to our room at 3:30 in the morning. We had to drop you off at the nursery for a bath, but I knew you'd be back in our room soon. I was exhausted, but the moment the nurses brought you back to me, I was energized! We spent those early morning hours cuddled together in my bed. You were snuggled against my chest to stay warm, and I just kept kissing your sweet head which was full of dark brown hair. <br /><br />Your daddy loves you more than you can imagine. I remember in the delivery room hearing him tell you about the book <span style="font-style: italic;">Daddy Hugs</span>. He said he was giving you "teeny-tiny finger hugs" while you were on the warming table, and you have had him wrapped around your little finger ever since. <br /><br />Later on the morning you were born, you met your brother for the first time. At first he just stared at you, but over the last week he has shown us repeatedly how much he loves you. He covers you with his blanket when you're in your glider, and he always wants to make sure you have your pacifier in your mouth. He brings his favorite toys and puts them next to you in the glider and looks at you lovingly.<br /><br />And your grandparents--well, they all adore you. BeBe, Grandad, Mimi and Grandpa all spent special time with you in the hospital, and they've loved holding you and telling us how beautiful and perfect you are over the last week. <br /><br />Sweet Camille, you are our tiny, precious miracle. We are so proud of you for being born so healthy and strong. We know God has big things in store for your life, and we can't wait to see what each day brings. But for today, you are one week old, and we couldn't love you more.<br /><br />Love,<br />MommyThe McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-69936048674138059822010-09-15T20:31:00.004-05:002010-09-16T21:18:56.098-05:00It was a dark and stormy night... (part II)So, I get out of the wheelchair in the labor and delivery room and have the worst contraction yet. I was standing leaning over the bed trying to catch my breath, relax and breathe. The next 30 minutes to an hour are a blur so I'm not sure of the exact timing. What I do remember is wanting things to slow down so I could get in control of the pain and practice relaxation techniques.<br /><br />The reality was that in a short span of time my contractions started coming fast and hard. I believe they were two minutes apart. At some point the labor and delivery nurse, Devin, checked me, and I think I was 4-5 cm. I tried to relax and and find a comfortable position, but I literally wanted to crawl out of my skin and run away. I became very hot and sweaty and extremely nauseous. The next thing I remember is being in the bathroom, throwing up repeatedly and contracting like crazy (oh yeah...and that amniotic fluid was still flowing and <span style="font-style: italic;">still</span> stressing me out).<br /><br />At that point, I felt panicked. I knew I needed to relax because tension was causing the pain to be so much worse. I just couldn't. Things were moving way too fast, and I felt as if I had completely lost control of the situation. The nurse was telling me I had to come get in bed and get the monitoring and IV started. (Because I was a VBAC things were "high risk" and my doctor wanted continuous fetal monitoring and IV access). The combination of nausea and intense pain was too much. So, in the bathroom of the labor and delivery room, I made a decision. <span style="font-style: italic;">I was having an epidural. </span>The only issue was that Brian and Elizabeth (per my birth plan instructions) gently tried to convince to ride out a few more contractions and reconsider. I'm not sure what I actually said. I remember <span style="font-style: italic;">thinking,</span> "I know what you're going to tell me. I know that's what I told you to tell me. But I was wrong. Dead wrong. I want that epidural and I want it <span style="font-style: italic;">yesterday</span>."<br /><br />The nurse hadn't overheard all of this, and popped her head in the bathroom and said something about seeing in my chart that I wanted as natural a childbirth as possible, but she still needed to discuss my options. I stopped her, told her that I had totally changed my mind and I wanted an epidural immediately. She reminded me that I still wasn't hooked up to monitors and that I did not have an IV started. These things needed to happen before the anesthesiologist could come in.<br /><br />The next hour or so I spent sitting in bed, trying to calm down and breathing through contractions. The contractions were so powerful. I held Brian's hand and continued to sweat profusely. Dr. Fogwell came in checked me and I was at 6 cm. I remember feeling such intense pain and trying to relax between contractions. This was probably the calmest I was during the active labor stage because I just kept telling myself that if I could survive a few more contractions then I would have the epidural. I think I kept asking how long it was going to take to get the bag of IV fluid in so that the anesthesiologist could get his rear in the room and get the job done. I looked at the slow drip a few times and contemplated grabbing the IV bag and giving it a few good squeezes.<br /><br />The contractions continued to intensify, but the bag was almost empty. Then I heard the nurse call for the anesthesiologist, and I heard the reply over her little radio--"He's just gone into room 7". I was in room 9. This was not good. Internally, I panicked--I could NOT wait any longer. I wanted to run into room 7 and drag the good doctor back to my room. I think externally I stayed fairly calm and zen simply because it was taking all of my energy to survive the contractions. <span style="font-style: italic;">Finally</span> the doctor came in. He said Brian and Elizabeth had to leave while I got the epidural. I didn't want Brian to leave. I was scared and in pain, but I knew that the faster he left the faster I would have sweet relief.<br /><br />I had a contraction as the epidural went in, and I held onto nurse Devin for dear life. Her little radio kept paging her saying her husband was on the phone saying it was urgent. She seemed a little concerned, but replied that she was busy at the moment (helping a pregnant lady regain her sanity.) Finally the epidural was in--the anesthesiologist said I would probably notice relief after a couple of more contractions. Good grief! Now I was alone in labor and delivery <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> I had to survive two more contractions. The doctor asked me if I wanted a "light" epidural where I still had some sensation or a "heavy" epidural where I'd be pretty much totally numb. I sucked it up and said "light". Eventually, I started to notice some relief.<br /><br />Brian and Elizabeth returned and I was starting to relax. Brian's phone kept ringing, and I noticed that he left the room before talking. The next time he came in I asked what was going on. He looked a little concerned, and told me that there was a little "weather situation". I was concerned--my parents were still on the road and Reid was with Brian's mom. What was this <span style="font-style: italic;">weather situation</span> and where was it happening? Brian said, "There's a tornado, and it's on the ground." Again, I feared the worst--like it was heading for our house in Allen and Reid was in its path. So when Brian said, "It actually looks like it's headed for the hospital", I was strangely relieved. Labor and delivery is in the basement of this particular hospital. Brian told me that they had just called a "Code Grey" and that nurses were scurrying around talking about moving patients. Nurse Devin popped her head back in (that urgent phone call from her husband--it was about the weather). She said that with a Code Grey we were safe in L&D. In fact, they were going to start moving other patients into the hallways of L&D.<br /><br />Once I talked to Brian some more and verified that my parents and Reid were out of harm's way, I thought the situation was sort of humorous. I even asked Elizabeth to turn on the TV so we could watch the coverage. Clearly, the epidural was helping at this point! The tornado broke apart and changed course before reaching the hospital, and I don't think all they did was move patients away from windows upstairs. My parents arrived safely around 6:30, and the nurse checked me again. I was still at a 6.<br /><br />The hours between 7 and 10 pm were fairly relaxed. I put on my make-up and tried to make the most of my "I-didn't-shower-today" hair. My sister came and stayed awhile. I chatted with Brian, Elizabeth, my parents, sister and our new nurse Julia who had come on at the 7pm shift change. I felt pressure with each contraction and started becoming nauseated again. I threw up some more, and even with the epidural, I sensed that the contractions were fast and strong and that things were changing rapidly with my body.<br /><br />The nurse checked me around 10 pm, and she looked somewhat surprised and said "Well....". I was so afraid she was going to say that there had been no change in the last 4 hours since I got the epidural. (Side note, I do think that had I not had the epidural, my labor would have continued to progress rapidly, and I would have had the baby in a matter of 2-3 hours, but who knows!) I was excited/terrified when she said I was at 10 cm, and I was ready to start pushing.<br /><br />I remember the first 30-60 minutes of pushing pretty clearly. I pushed and pushed and was making "a little" progress. My epidural was becoming less effective and I felt so much pressure and some pain. I'm not sure what happened to me mentally during that period of time, but for some reason I started becoming convinced that I could not push this baby out. I was so uncomfortable--not the worst pain, but definitely the worst discomfort of my life. I didn't feel like being on my back was effective so I turned over on my hands and knees (with an epidural--somewhat stressing nurse Julia out) and started pushing.<br /><br />This is what I remember: I was very tired. I was getting frustrated and feeling desperate. I did not want to be told to push, and I certainly didn't want our perky nurse (who really was wonderful--I just didn't appreciate her at this point in time) counting to 10 repeatedly. I was sort of in my own little world--I could hear everyone else talking, but I just wanted to be left alone. Another weird thing was that, at some point, I got very concerned about Brian being by my side while I was pushing. I <span style="font-style: italic;">never</span> thought I'd be like this, but there was part of me that was self-conscious, and I just started thinking, "this is too much-I cannot let him see me like this, and I can't fully concentrate on pushing for thinking about this". So, Brian ended up spending some time sitting on the other side of the room. I think this helped me slightly from a psychological perspective.<br /><br />Eventually, after a long time of pushing with not-so-much progress, the nurse told me she had spoken to my doctor and he was coming in to discuss options. When Dr. Fogwell walked in and said, "Let's talk." I was in the middle of a contraction and feeling desperate. I told him I did <span style="font-style: italic;">not </span>want to talk at the moment. The nurse sweetly told me that the doctor had come in just to talk to me, and I needed to talk to him. Luckily, my doctor knows me pretty well by this time, and he said, "no, don't worry, she'll talk to me when she's ready". With that, he sat at the computer and hung out for about 15 minutes (I think-my concept of time at this point is very hazy) until I told him I was ready to talk. He told me my options were:<br /> 1. Have a repeat C-section. Which he said, "would be stupid since you're fully dilated, and the baby is fully engaged in your pelvis"<br /> 2. Turn your epidural all the off and see if that helps with pushing.<br /> 3. Use forceps to assist with delivery.<br /> 4. Have the anesthesiologist come in and make your epidural much stronger to see if we can get you comfortable enough to push.<br /><br />I chose option 4. I was already pushing pretty hard by the time the nurse anesthetist came in. He was an older gentleman named Jack. In the midst of all my crankiness and desperation, Jack walks in and starts cheering me on with all he's got. "Come on sweetheart, just push that baby out!" I almost hit him. I don't know how much longer I pushed after that. I was definitely in the zone with my eyes closed and totally focused. I do have recollections of yelling "please help me", and I'm fairly sure I yelled "get her out" at least once. All in all, I was not the serene laboring goddess that I had hoped to be. <br /><br />With the last few pushes I heard the nurse and doctor saying that she was moving her head around trying to get herself into position to come out. Just when I thought I couldn't push any harder or take any more, she was out at 12:56 am on Thursday, September 9, 2010. It was the sweetest feeling of relief I have ever experienced! She came out with her umbilical cord wrapped around her neck twice--apparently it was a long cord! They got it unwrapped, and she started crying. Brian cut the cord, and the placed our sweet baby on my chest. She was so purple at first that it scared me, but the nurses assured me that she was okay. I rubbed her face and head and stared at her in amazement.<br /><br />After a few minutes, the nurses took her to the little warming bed in the room--they were a little concerned that her lungs sounded a little "crackly" and her oxygen saturation was a little low. Eventually they called the NICU team down to do an assessment in our room but kept assuring us that it was nothing too serious. After some deep suctioning and a once over by the NICU team, she was declared perfect and allowed to come back and snuggle with me some more.<br /><br />I experienced exhaustion like I've never felt before. I pushed for 2 1/2 hours before little Miss Camille made her appearance!<br /><br />All in all, it wasn't exactly the labor experience I had envisioned. I am thrilled that I accomplished a VBAC. I have a few regrets about getting the epidural, but I also know that with the way things unfolded, it was the best option for me at the time. We want to have more kid(s), and I would definitely opt for a VBAC over a cesarean given the choice. I would even consider attempting a future birth without an epidural. Maybe. Or not. I found the experience empowering and the recovery easier in many ways than with the c-section. We were admitted to labor and delivery around 4:00 on Wednesday, had the baby at 12:56 am on Thursday and went home at 4:00 on Friday. And all my hard work was rewarded with the best prize imaginable!The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-73166962531875569182010-09-14T20:19:00.005-05:002010-09-14T23:24:26.072-05:00It was a dark and stormy night... (part 1)The story of my labor and delivery--according to how I remember it. <br /><br />*I'm sure it's a fairly accurate account, but since I had my eyes closed and was willing myself into a state of unconsciousness for the last two hours of the experience, I may have missed a few things.<br />**This story will be very lengthy and contain mindless details, but its my blog and I'll ramble if I want to. <br /><br />Anyway. Last Tuesday night was a dark and stormy night. The Dallas area was being inundated with rain from the remnants of Tropical Storm Hermine. I was awake for much of the night with some cramping off and on, and every time I woke up it was <span style="font-style: italic;">pouring </span>down rain. I was also awake because my mind was racing--was I in the very early stages of labor? Was I ever going to have this baby? Was she okay in there? <br /><br />Let me back up a few hours. Tuesday morning I went to the doctor again. I was 40 weeks and 3 days pregnant. If you are reading my blog then you know that this constitutes a miracle in and of itself. We were amazed. My doctor was amazed! I had been planning from the first time I saw the doctor for this pregnancy in January to attempt a vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC). VBACs carry an increased risk of uterine rupture and the medications used in inductions further increase that risk. Therefore, my doctor was adamant that he was not inducing me. I either needed to go into labor on my own or have a repeat c-section. <br /><br />At Tuesday's appointment, my doctor said I was 3 cm dilated and 100% effaced. He offered to schedule a "pseudo-induction" where he would have me check into the hospital Thursday morning and he would rupture my amniotic sac. In theory, this should cause labor to start and I would have the baby without the extra risk of induction meds. I was so excited to have a plan and at the prospect of no longer being pregnant that I immediately agreed. Of course, when I talked things over with Brian I started to analyze all the "what ifs". I knew that if the doctor broke my water and I <span style="font-style: italic;">didn't</span> start contracting after a certain number of hours, then I would have to have a c-section anyway. So, after scheduling my induction for 6 am Thursday and calling my parents and telling them to head up sometime Wednesday, <span style="font-style: italic;">I changed my mind. </span>I know. How annoying. Of course I changed my mind after my doctor's office was already closed Tuesday so I planned to call Wednesday morning to cancel the induction. <br /><br />So after my long, restless and crampy Tuesday night, I woke up fairly early on Wednesday morning and told Brian I felt like I might be having contractions, but they didn't seem too regular. Brian kept getting ready for work, and I stayed in bed and started timing the contractions. They seemed to be 5-7 minutes apart and lasting for about 30 seconds. Around 7:30 Brian decided to try to work from home instead of going in to the office. He had a couple of meetings he needed to call in for, and he had a 4:00 meeting at a building near our house that he was going to try to attend.<br /><br />Throughout the morning my contractions came and went. It continued raining, and much of central and north Texas were experiencing flooding. My parents debated about coming up--I was worried that my dad would take off of work and leave and it would turn out to be a false alarm, but I was also worried that they wouldn't make it up if things moved too quickly. They decided to leave around 5 pm. Brian called and asked his mom to come hang out with me and Reid while he was on a 2:00 teleconference and went to his 4:00 meeting. <br /><br />I had contacted our doula and birth photographer, <a href="http://earthmamaphotography.blogspot.com">Elizabeth</a>, Wednesday morning, and she predicted that I'd probably continue to have intermittent contractions throughout the day, and my labor would probably intensify once I went to bed that night. Things seemed to be following this pattern so I had decided to wait until late that afternoon to take a shower and fix my hair. I wanted to be "ready" when I went into labor. After Brian's mom arrived, I decided to try to nap. I was on our bed resting but not sleeping. I couldn't get comfortable so I decided to roll over onto my other side (no small feat when you are <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> pregnant!). As I rolled over I felt a "pop", thought my water was breaking and jumped out of bed to try to get over the bathroom tile (you can thank me later, Brian--our bed actually stayed completely dry). I made it to the bathroom before the rush of fluid started. I briefly wondered if my water had really broken or if I was just completely losing bladder control, but seconds later my first<span style="font-style: italic;"> real</span> contraction hit and I actually fell down to the floor on my hands and knees. The intensity of it surprised and scared me.<br /><br />I was about to yell for Brian, but just then he walked into our bedroom to check on me before leaving for his meeting. I believe it was just after 3 pm at this point. I told him I thought my water had broken, and he could tell by my expression that I wasn't messing around. I told him to call our doctor's office and Elizabeth, and I quickly changed clothes while cursing myself for not having taken a shower earlier. I thought about taking the time to shower quickly, but when the next contraction hit that thought quickly vanished! I was so thankful that Brian's mom was already there taking care of Reid. I tried very hard to act completely normal and not get overly emotional when telling Reid goodbye. He definitely sensed that something was going on, and he was crying and very upset when we left (which of course broke my heart!). We had actually just picked up our new Chevy Traverse at the dealership on Tuesday night. We planned on getting leather interior, but they had exactly what we were looking for with cloth interior. We planned to take the car back in later in the week to get leather seats installed so we weren't overly worried about my riding in the brand new car :) <br /><br />Brian and I drove from Allen to Presbyterian Hospital of Dallas, and I was so thankful that it was not rush hour. As soon as we got in the car, I called my parents to let them know what had happened. They had actually seen a break in the weather and decided to leave early. Turns out they were pulling out of the driveway when I called! We tuned into Sports Radio 1310 The Ticket for a little taste of our normal lives. I continued having fairly strong contractions in the car, and I remember telling Brian that I just wanted to get checked into the hospital and regroup. I was planning on natural, drug-free childbirth, and I felt like I just needed to get to a labor and delivery room and try to relax and focus. <br /><br />Once we arrived at the hospital, I asked Brian to go in and get a wheelchair. In case you didn't know (and I had heard this but never appreciated the full extent of it), when your water breaks it is not a one-time event. The supply continues to replenish thus it continues to flow...and flow...and flow. Next to the pain of contractions, the continual gushing of fluid probably stressed me out the most. I just felt so out of control! All that to say, there was no way I was walking in to the hospital admitting area with fluid leaking out of me. Eww.<br /><br />Brian pushed me into the hospital in a wheelchair, and I sat through all the stupid questions and paperwork while leaking fluid and breathing through contractions. The charge nurse asked me if I was <span style="font-style: italic;">sure</span> my water had broken. When she wheeled me into the L&D room and I got out of the wheelchair she got her answer. The moment I got out of the wheelchair and tried to change into the hospital gown was also the moment that things started to move very quickly...The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-7740966622216081412010-09-06T13:21:00.005-05:002010-09-06T13:50:55.331-05:00Nursery and Reid's roomI was so excited to decorate a nursery when I found out I was having a girl. I like pink, but I can only take so much. So we painted our little girl's nursery blue. Of course! We did use lots of very girly pink accents though. My very talented friend Angela helped me come up with an idea for a paint treatment on the nursery wall, and she helped with the tedious taping of the wall too. (The contrast of the lattice pattern is a little hard to see in these pictures, but it's more obvious when you're actually in the room). Brian got to do all the grunt work with the paint. He also made the shelving unit under the window and the floating shelves above the dresser. I have such talented friends and family! The prints on the wall above the crib are from Etsy, and my parents had them matted and framed for our baby shower gift. It definitely still needs a few finishing touches, but we'll get there soon enough. Here are a few pictures:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEEeNX_k6pCMKVOhJMvYK2v1DkZXKXXajZ9nA7hBR6O_ax2aIKi5WYfUSG0-2AcDmWlA1g67G_hlHyGNWnelfTR15oTTYtyH2MQx2SiIy19beoSsDKJM5pJehxzMMyS6Kq6Zi5IxVZl2P/s1600/IMG_1366.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEEeNX_k6pCMKVOhJMvYK2v1DkZXKXXajZ9nA7hBR6O_ax2aIKi5WYfUSG0-2AcDmWlA1g67G_hlHyGNWnelfTR15oTTYtyH2MQx2SiIy19beoSsDKJM5pJehxzMMyS6Kq6Zi5IxVZl2P/s400/IMG_1366.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513872564221438354" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxyDAw5PZvWHTXWv9jVTaCic3i81isSM-629Xq5LfwP5YJqUHyKiyE2GlwumIroy7RAZRMV76buKlPEUb9bS-Z5_B7-bqvGReBXWVdPqFCIF8z3e-Cmgb-nprdyFB2ogjRL8Rig8yObUqk/s1600/IMG_1364.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxyDAw5PZvWHTXWv9jVTaCic3i81isSM-629Xq5LfwP5YJqUHyKiyE2GlwumIroy7RAZRMV76buKlPEUb9bS-Z5_B7-bqvGReBXWVdPqFCIF8z3e-Cmgb-nprdyFB2ogjRL8Rig8yObUqk/s400/IMG_1364.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513872557069828306" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJuJjSxM4Wsh8lFmN2wKftB9ii5-rX2FBcY-bSniqxw8PApwntsBBUp5CH566m2xTV_G3EfgIWQ0gH_5UYXSjzl0UYSiPKMTTVgy0p-AVz_p0pLQUydXL8xrxKituWlKj5yIRNOYkhTOC/s1600/IMG_1362.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJuJjSxM4Wsh8lFmN2wKftB9ii5-rX2FBcY-bSniqxw8PApwntsBBUp5CH566m2xTV_G3EfgIWQ0gH_5UYXSjzl0UYSiPKMTTVgy0p-AVz_p0pLQUydXL8xrxKituWlKj5yIRNOYkhTOC/s400/IMG_1362.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513872550229834066" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6vSdDbs_AumNAfMcSLZtenP_rtnN-lUQ0rOMUUhKHUTYwly9CBQTx3WNR08QA6-hHkb-G-CgbM4oMFujYiEoaYaIITDrJ-tf2SRFxGKU_QRxvL60YFjJ3xBzPX2tQsiiALimZ-3lu3Jj/s1600/IMG_1361.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6vSdDbs_AumNAfMcSLZtenP_rtnN-lUQ0rOMUUhKHUTYwly9CBQTx3WNR08QA6-hHkb-G-CgbM4oMFujYiEoaYaIITDrJ-tf2SRFxGKU_QRxvL60YFjJ3xBzPX2tQsiiALimZ-3lu3Jj/s400/IMG_1361.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513872538485144418" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When we first moved to our new house in April, we tried to put Reid's furniture in his new room in the exact same arrangement that it was in our old house. The walls in his new room were a light beige and not nearly as warm and inviting as his old "pumpkin spice" walls. The final straw for me was the day we finished the nursery and took the rocking chair out of Reid's room to put in the nursery. The whole concept made me sad anyway, and it left Reid's room looking so barren and pitiful. We haven't rocked Reid to sleep for a long while, but he still sat in our laps to read books and such. Suddenly, there was nowhere to sit and snuggle with my baby! So fixing up Reid's room become a priority. We had already purchased the twin bed to match his furniture, but we had planned on storing it in the attic until he was ready for his "big boy bed". Instead, we went ahead and set it up in his room as a place to read books and snuggle. I've been wanting to do some kind of mural/wall decal for awhile, and we custom ordered the "forest friends" scene from a shop on Etsy. We used the same pumpkin spice paint color on all walls except the mural wall, and voila!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6gFDrPNh_E5s-L8r19qx0xfNAA3u26G-2cKhTxI474yJK9iqEIofQzBSRpXWn3Zl0Xt9ru5Ppj1UuccrH92UUEfNHJV3111qGAeQwcdmH0xquw8zTDOfprKO0APbRzuv5SPzbHDrvg4PP/s1600/IMG_1354.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6gFDrPNh_E5s-L8r19qx0xfNAA3u26G-2cKhTxI474yJK9iqEIofQzBSRpXWn3Zl0Xt9ru5Ppj1UuccrH92UUEfNHJV3111qGAeQwcdmH0xquw8zTDOfprKO0APbRzuv5SPzbHDrvg4PP/s400/IMG_1354.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513874205152067938" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9WIL_ttypPBQYf4Wo95_R8vDKjFMg3ZORiNgHf4-6vzp9yqAX-1xkzab7C0U_VvnJM2ktw2YApfGN0jnV86cYHydd9By5SQb4JGvN3MHy7FJ7upIPsUJrD7r3okFmIwCnAn55vuitWiVO/s1600/IMG_1357.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9WIL_ttypPBQYf4Wo95_R8vDKjFMg3ZORiNgHf4-6vzp9yqAX-1xkzab7C0U_VvnJM2ktw2YApfGN0jnV86cYHydd9By5SQb4JGvN3MHy7FJ7upIPsUJrD7r3okFmIwCnAn55vuitWiVO/s400/IMG_13%3Cbr" /></a>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-76990976275452376542010-09-03T21:51:00.003-05:002010-09-03T21:59:12.849-05:00Reid's First Day of PreschoolYesterday was Reid's first day at his new preschool. He is going to the Child Development Center at our church two days a week. I wasn't sure how he would do, but other than a few tears at drop off, he had a great day! I know I keep saying this, but I just cannot believe how grown up he is looking these days.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlaVqVEcBtFEiMvW6U-J4YkHQtyNhRFXfyLWHI3NGeCqMpMxUN6YzdQzCU2N-qrnLgOa45w3uVSXDBWzEzKOCEP-xXZmTpklN3jf-vgDTQP_6aOwINpoKcxYxa74lMVrIYWxm__MG2zZt/s1600/IMG_1346.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlaVqVEcBtFEiMvW6U-J4YkHQtyNhRFXfyLWHI3NGeCqMpMxUN6YzdQzCU2N-qrnLgOa45w3uVSXDBWzEzKOCEP-xXZmTpklN3jf-vgDTQP_6aOwINpoKcxYxa74lMVrIYWxm__MG2zZt/s400/IMG_1346.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512887069843827730" border="0" /></a>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-52064937564136283102010-08-30T11:32:00.001-05:002010-08-30T11:36:06.244-05:00Reid's New Trick<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyuw2akzm5OtZNUQPxTm1Orf4H7abO5HJX7r7CKjfEIznQqz0YUoNPG2OV2FqNuPKpUX-nDAHsra7HEYUjKdA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-1928271897066279492010-08-16T21:08:00.005-05:002010-08-16T22:10:31.081-05:0098 Days and ThankfulSorry, friends and family. This post is long overdue. It's just that since I got off of bed rest I have stayed busy trying to bring some order back to our lives.<br /><br />I officially started bed rest on April 16 following what should have been a routine appointment with our OB at 19.5 weeks. You all know what happened--my cervix had suddenly and dramatically shortened, and the doctor was quite concerned about the future of my pregnancy. I officially ended bed rest on July 23 at 34 weeks. While 34 weeks is not full-term, my doctor uses it as the benchmark for when he would no longer aggressively try to stop labor. It was explained to me that babies born at 34 weeks will likely spend time in the NICU, but very rarely will they have any long-term side effects of prematurity.<br /><br />When I first started my bed resting journey, I had to think week-by-week. Thinking about 3 1/2 months was just too overwhelming. I remember calculating that I needed to make it to almost August before I'd be allowed to be "free", and I couldn't even wrap my brain around what that would be like. I couldn't imagine what that would look like for us as a family.<br /><br />I really dislike exposing my true emotions--makes me feel way too vulnerable. However, I also want to have a record of how I have truly been feeling this summer, so here goes...<br /><br />The beginning of this journey was very dark for me emotionally. I was so scared of losing this baby. I hated feeling that things were beyond my control. I would spend my nights thinking about what might happen. I wondered in those first weeks if the baby would live for even a few minutes if she was born that early. I tried to mentally prepare myself for what it would be like if she did--or didn't. I tried to prepare myself for what she would look like. I wondered if we would have a funeral, and if so, where we would have our daughter buried. When Brian had to travel for work, I was a nervous wreck. <span style="font-style: italic;">What if I went into labor, and they couldn't stop it? What if our daughter only survived for moments, and he wasn't there?</span><br /><br />And of course, the pregnant body is a crazy thing--constant twinges, aches and pains. I analyzed <span style="font-style: italic;">everything</span>--sure that everything I felt meant that pre-term labor was inevitable.<br /><br />At the appointment where I was placed on bed rest, I remember surprising my OB when I said, "Okay, so we have to make it to 24 weeks--that's just over 4 weeks from now." My OB looked at me like I had grown two heads, and said something about needing to make it <span style="font-style: italic;">much</span> longer than 24 weeks. For me, however, knowing that our baby had a fighting chance at survival meant everything. Once we hit the all-important 24 week mark, I started to relax somewhat. (Of course, prior to that, I had scoured the internet for stories of babies born between 22-24 weeks who had survived). Each week after that was a bonus. I knew making it to 28 weeks was another big milestone. After that, the weeks seemed to fly by in a way.<br /><br />Yesterday I hit the 37 week mark. That is officially full-term. And I am thankful. This process has definitely changed me, though. I am so thankful to God that we have made it to this point, and that I will most likely deliver a healthy baby in the near future. Yet, I wonder why we are the lucky ones when so many others have devastating outcomes. I am so thankful for our families and friends who made it possible for me to obey the doctor's orders (that is a whole other post!). Yet, I have spent time thinking about women who simply cannot obey a doctor's orders to be on complete bed rest because they have to work to support their family or they have no one to help with other children. I don't know why we were chosen for this particular journey. But I am thankful.<br /><br />On a less serious note, I have to use all of these deep thoughts to keep myself grounded and thankful because reaching the 37 week mark has brought the bad with the good. I'm exhausted as a result of bed rest + being <span style="font-style: italic;">really </span>pregnant. My muscles and joints are completely out of whack again due to the combination of being on bed rest for so long + being <span style="font-style: italic;">really </span>pregnant. My back hurts so badly when I get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night (at least 4 times, mind you), that I usually limp the first several steps until things loosen up a little. And last, I ITCH ALL OVER. A dangerous condition called cholestasis of pregnancy has been ruled out. And I am thankful. However, I'm fairly sure I have <a href="http://dermatology.about.com/cs/pregnancy/a/puppp.htm">PUPP</a>. <a href="http://http//dermatology.about.com/cs/pregnancy/a/puppp.htm"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></a>Look it up at your own risk. It's icky--and itchy. And there's not a darn thing to be done except delivering the baby. I'm going to ask my doctor to confirm at my next appointment on Tuesday, but all the symptoms are a match. All the itching has led to very little sleeping. Itching + sleepless nights + trying to get back in the swing of being the primary care provider for a <span style="font-style: italic;">very</span> active toddler + being <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> pregnant + being in the midst of 16 days of 100+ degree temperatures with no end in sight...<br /><br />I can honestly say that I am so thankful to be at this point in this pregnancy, but a girl can only take so much. I'm ready to have this baby. Of course, after all the drama, who wants to bet I'll carry her past my due date? <span style="font-style: italic;">Sigh. </span>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-70918765493940560362010-07-16T21:18:00.005-05:002010-07-16T22:50:45.883-05:00AquaBabyWater safety. It's important people! Drowning is the second-leading cause of accidental death in children 14 years and younger in the United States. (Car accidents are the leading cause, if you must know.) However, in states that have an abundance of residential pools (Arizona, Florida, and Texas), drowning is often the number one cause of accidental death in children.<br /><br />Children aged 1-4 are most likely to drown in a residential pool, owned by a family member or close acquaintance, <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">while being supervised by one or both parents.</span></span> (Statistics courtesy of the Center for Disease Control-Division of Injury Prevention).<br /><br />I personally like to think that I am immune to things like this. I like to believe that I am a responsible, careful parent, and therefore, bad things can't happen to my child. However, I have seen enough stories on the news to know that drowning doesn't just happen to irresponsible or careless parents. It happens to responsible parents all the time, and it only takes a moment for the unthinkable to happen!<br /><br />Our new house does not have a pool, but Brian's parents bought our old house, and thus, inherited our pool. Reid spends a lot of time over at their house, and for our family, it was essential that Reid learn how to swim early. In mid-June, we enrolled Reid in infant swim survival lessons. The goal of this type of lesson is not to merely acclimate infants/toddlers/preschoolers to the water, but to teach them how to <span style="font-style: italic;">survive </span>should they ever fall in. These lessons are typically for kids between 6 months and 6 years of age. My understanding is that the skill set acquired varies depending upon age (i.e., babies and toddlers learn how to float and breathe, and the older kiddos learn more actual swimming skills in addition to the floating.)<br /><br />As a parent, is it very difficult to watch your child go through these lessons. Mom and dad are not in the pool for the lesson-just the child and the instructor. Also, your child is allowed to struggle in the water for a few seconds at a time as a part of the learning process. I'll be honest---I almost couldn't take Reid back after the first couple of days. We were BOTH so traumatized. We stuck with it, and after 4 1/2 weeks of lessons, Reid has officially graduated from swim school! His final exam consisted of going in the pool in a regular diaper, clothes and shoes. The instructor set him on the edge of the pool and gently pushed him in. He demonstrated the ability to get back up to the water's surface, roll over on his back and float. He would then turn over and "swim" a short distance before floating/breathing some more. He was able to find the steps and get out on his own at the end.<br /><br />I must take a moment to brag like the proud mom that I am--Reid was a natural. He impressed the instructor and other parents with his swimming/floating skills from day one. At 16 months of age, he was actually able to move beyond learning to turn over on his back to breathe, and he learned to swim a little and to find the step and get out on his own. We'll definitely chalk his athletic prowess up to the McFarland side of the family. As a child, Brian held multiple swim records at the YMCA in Bartlesville, Oklahoma. (I'm actually informed by certain sources that Brian <span style="font-style: italic;">STILL</span> holds certain swim records in Oklahoma. Apparently records are kept online so people can go back and check these things 20 years later. I digress.) Brian's brother Mark swam in college and he currently coaches high school swimming in New York.<br /><br />I have included pictures and video clips of our little Aqua Baby below. I'd just like to hop back on my soap box to say a couple of more things:<br /><br />1) These lessons do not "drown-proof" your child. They are merely one layer of protection and should be used in conjunction with adult supervision and barriers to pool access.<br />2) This type of training is so important for little kiddos who regularly spend time around the water. You can find more information at the following websites:<br /><ul><li><a href="http://www.blogger.com/infantswim.com">www.infantswim.com</a> (The Infant Swim Resource home page)<br /></li><li><a href="http://www.blogger.com/aquatykestx.com">aquatykestx.com</a> (The website of our local swim instructor, Cindy Clark)<br /></li></ul><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSTm0exJNEhcQxESiGZMXfz-W8JZyTiI3-1z5vljKzA4qu0r63wwNM6GIlugPigy4aQSEQ5iugMB9nvFZt9xvFMgJ5AqhEdVJ7LkMH0w644dDl1c-tCokkwy8FC7uz434zQbOb4Y6enNDE/s1600/IMG_1219.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSTm0exJNEhcQxESiGZMXfz-W8JZyTiI3-1z5vljKzA4qu0r63wwNM6GIlugPigy4aQSEQ5iugMB9nvFZt9xvFMgJ5AqhEdVJ7LkMH0w644dDl1c-tCokkwy8FC7uz434zQbOb4Y6enNDE/s400/IMG_1219.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494695206054756914" border="0" /></a><br />This is Reid's "help me, mommy" face--made frequently during the course of our lessons.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Ny88A4kTRhPgyCvUgOeIegHX60WXYBhAPBM-zmHoagBAiIUCZ2QzrRGDTgHsax664MvJAYZwmr7xGQoZ9zELWtfxStHti8TMcY4DGVCs2B3PcMsIbWF3u5PrfGVTNsC13VxrcJEgmX3g/s1600/IMG_1215.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Ny88A4kTRhPgyCvUgOeIegHX60WXYBhAPBM-zmHoagBAiIUCZ2QzrRGDTgHsax664MvJAYZwmr7xGQoZ9zELWtfxStHti8TMcY4DGVCs2B3PcMsIbWF3u5PrfGVTNsC13VxrcJEgmX3g/s400/IMG_1215.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494695216527370706" border="0" /></a><br />Reid learning to float on his back with Cindy.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89jOuJWzD72aOjFHjrgxUYyJnmGQlVxM_Cdl5YPwqzOkLx73wLvjlcP_In8J0SZjuxkl8r1AJPPiUdLfUBAKwcY9ydEVnkdPhKuVD_AAYORCL3b5usXnvvv8-E4V7p-6gTez6sewfEVsT/s1600/IMG_7110.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89jOuJWzD72aOjFHjrgxUYyJnmGQlVxM_Cdl5YPwqzOkLx73wLvjlcP_In8J0SZjuxkl8r1AJPPiUdLfUBAKwcY9ydEVnkdPhKuVD_AAYORCL3b5usXnvvv8-E4V7p-6gTez6sewfEVsT/s400/IMG_7110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494695190865113362" border="0" /></a><br />Reid floating on his own like a pro.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGRbBBIQ8v9Q8MI5q4dwChKpWzJRivuC9kq-JheDM2I6wYnXkaUfY1t1q-7ayGg1nRNQwAKR9m_ckR8gBRkfMeeMqJzXuWN4-FLW5VZQA9PvGraFFdbPGUVcQsrbcpIEldUmGiz1sGwxT/s1600/IMG_7123.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGRbBBIQ8v9Q8MI5q4dwChKpWzJRivuC9kq-JheDM2I6wYnXkaUfY1t1q-7ayGg1nRNQwAKR9m_ckR8gBRkfMeeMqJzXuWN4-FLW5VZQA9PvGraFFdbPGUVcQsrbcpIEldUmGiz1sGwxT/s400/IMG_7123.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494695180392435378" border="0" /></a><br />Reid with Cindy on graduation day--so proud!<br /><br /><br />Video #1: Reid during his second or third week of lessons working on floating and swimming to the step.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='398' height='330' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dybsT66subC36K8hJ-yUYCY1WLe5CinCYDt9vy7RVRIzoOEDyIOtWouHt7U-eAE2wglW3GvggjHujURrLhgSg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Video #2: Last day of lessons I was asked to join Reid in the pool so Cindy could teach me how to continue working with him. (Disclaimers: I am 8 months pregnant. I am a whale. Also, I'm allowed to be in the pool while on bedrest--Reid is pretty darn near weightless while under water. No enormous pregnant women nor unborn children were harmed during the making of this video.)<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='399' height='331' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwRGURHkUK4LGowyiEjRX4E82qqWFckEMY2TbLvZCrZnZppHdfhbdTMc57dsjNfok56zcAgFFXQ97EME_d5vA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><br />Video #3: Reid floats over to steps, turns over and gets out of the pool on his own.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='397' height='330' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx62QanfBseDZdN7CG_f3Q4Xnqga61TSjSyGZAoiMEX7qaH1RQ8Rf6pAWzO7oGbbr8hvnv9a1C9UkhlwR1xig' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-6697148526212401802010-06-10T15:22:00.006-05:002010-06-10T19:31:11.599-05:00All About Reid<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">I haven't done a post about <span style="font-style: italic;">just</span> Reid in a long time. While my adorable 15 month old son has enough personality to fill up many, many blog entries, I will try to condense this into one post.<br /><br />Reid is a vibrant and happy little boy. There are two distinct sides to his personality. He is quiet and ultra-focused for big chunks of time while reading books to himself and playing with toys. It is not an exaggeration to say that he could be mistaken for being profoundly deaf at times. No amount of calling his name or making funny noises will distract him. It's kind of scary. He gets it from his dad. Really, though, he is <span style="font-style: italic;">obsessed</span> with reading and books these days. He points to the pictures and reads aloud. He also brings books to me to read to him. <br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1gSOhzWcBKFEzFByL8IdinG2hp204wI8SU7MC9PhvZElU6xpotoSVwReV0g0kxIKdKwxko-EXO_kf4FTc_lGQsXWySCv9CQwvGaUTy0TOS6XrHacJG2kxxHR4jBFc4J8qZ0_P7Wny0XF/s1600/IMG_6789.JPG"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 281px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1gSOhzWcBKFEzFByL8IdinG2hp204wI8SU7MC9PhvZElU6xpotoSVwReV0g0kxIKdKwxko-EXO_kf4FTc_lGQsXWySCv9CQwvGaUTy0TOS6XrHacJG2kxxHR4jBFc4J8qZ0_P7Wny0XF/s400/IMG_6789.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481250242902054322" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Here is Reid in "focus mode" with his absolute favorite toy truck<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">The other Reid can be summed up in two words: "perpetual motion". Other applicable terminology for this side of Reid would be "wild child", "hellion", "crazy baby" and "turbo". He runs, jumps, climbs, screams, and <span style="font-style: italic;">wallers.</span> I believe this last term is the southern version of "wallows". For Reid, wallering entails rolling around like a crazed monkey on his soft gym mats, the floor, the baby pool or his parents. He also loves to throw balls. The kid has quite an arm on him! He can even catch balls that are thrown to him occasionally. Unfortunately, Reid also loves to throw food, wooden blocks, my iPhone, books...anything he can pick up. He has learned to stack blocks, and I saw him stack 5 wooden blocks the other day. <br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXX4Ouk8FAytUf_RnjMwK2UqIrXN9kH9kGWEcl6HplEpSMotgo1XSnLRzN68zrvxlnRV-rsuKMfpuj3IREQlfl8to-4CATZ6CPE-EswL9ErHZlI4wGO5H15HybLwFDHJhstDxAkRi7zij/s1600/IMG_6830.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXX4Ouk8FAytUf_RnjMwK2UqIrXN9kH9kGWEcl6HplEpSMotgo1XSnLRzN68zrvxlnRV-rsuKMfpuj3IREQlfl8to-4CATZ6CPE-EswL9ErHZlI4wGO5H15HybLwFDHJhstDxAkRi7zij/s400/IMG_6830.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481250206823138322" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQSfYUry7trWAGxmJAexpIAj_gflmhyphenhyphenyHYrbepdlVuPKfK3y4Icf4PQOTMC2P9z8YTtzx0vvG0ZpQXoWlxXaJfWeDwNwMtbpjHAbmybvRySwBv1nklFquVuaelzfPWrfR_nX_y_zQuPlx/s1600/IMG_6832.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 143px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQSfYUry7trWAGxmJAexpIAj_gflmhyphenhyphenyHYrbepdlVuPKfK3y4Icf4PQOTMC2P9z8YTtzx0vvG0ZpQXoWlxXaJfWeDwNwMtbpjHAbmybvRySwBv1nklFquVuaelzfPWrfR_nX_y_zQuPlx/s400/IMG_6832.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481248732804280594" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUd4ZD8ZphifhZ9lK_eG_D8LD9AL9s_dJwmrMoe2aFhhKGd2SMZ5uIckXunErOorj2JgWYCACPhicHkuL95B9ngQn_1IyZHq53MhvEi9q3uq4FCkT5bJ0X_6GODO3sTGywXleiESAOkKBT/s1600/IMG_6833.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUd4ZD8ZphifhZ9lK_eG_D8LD9AL9s_dJwmrMoe2aFhhKGd2SMZ5uIckXunErOorj2JgWYCACPhicHkuL95B9ngQn_1IyZHq53MhvEi9q3uq4FCkT5bJ0X_6GODO3sTGywXleiESAOkKBT/s400/IMG_6833.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481248724580513394" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUaLCOR0jYGzJmmQeWiy1n3_UTIIt_iO34GkmpSOJMSZXfXxYPVGj6XcZDptIubNYp7e4_UP2fdLn28f1ZahWVszu8jbqId1E1oZOSiMc5A1LJrubrKUgDigMCqUTtzo3C1d0NP8M1Y9j0/s1600/IMG_6835.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUaLCOR0jYGzJmmQeWiy1n3_UTIIt_iO34GkmpSOJMSZXfXxYPVGj6XcZDptIubNYp7e4_UP2fdLn28f1ZahWVszu8jbqId1E1oZOSiMc5A1LJrubrKUgDigMCqUTtzo3C1d0NP8M1Y9j0/s400/IMG_6835.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481248712315502418" border="0" /></a></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Here is a collage of Reid wallering in the baby pool</span><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0bJDNqTMm0WrAAaE14FanWN3hAv9f8cBtJLGkveYLc1p1zAdihMAmUZuLr5aC_u5AuZRhUCg37WgiS8C6fmgT2umDNx_U9SCuPMBVmj_lT7p7TVSMQ8SswGI9xvncqGz26GfIi2bBMbY/s1600/IMG_6871.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0bJDNqTMm0WrAAaE14FanWN3hAv9f8cBtJLGkveYLc1p1zAdihMAmUZuLr5aC_u5AuZRhUCg37WgiS8C6fmgT2umDNx_U9SCuPMBVmj_lT7p7TVSMQ8SswGI9xvncqGz26GfIi2bBMbY/s400/IMG_6871.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481248700104527874" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Hellion" (meant in the most affectionate way possible)<br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuaM270g55f8ENL89NpP8dIO8sT4s4fTEd7cwlV_TjEvEZBXKFTbtxXaWv5pahPC8sWnS_KJ2d2EBBYiryWUc1kislTy4I0LyvMdLFxwMnNijkVNhQJ9FiGY4BGAqmJ739w27sumdU17K/s1600/IMG_6782.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuaM270g55f8ENL89NpP8dIO8sT4s4fTEd7cwlV_TjEvEZBXKFTbtxXaWv5pahPC8sWnS_KJ2d2EBBYiryWUc1kislTy4I0LyvMdLFxwMnNijkVNhQJ9FiGY4BGAqmJ739w27sumdU17K/s400/IMG_6782.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481295325686885570" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Climbing with wet feet. I'll let you envision the end result.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkFrELQ1vyWXtwxiFqM9RZKQoi0w3ReRLVBo2kT2QhCkNssdNuAwbhdWpCo1hi_cTAiMh5vQlRSxivr6Qw3Tgs8iQ_pmxvsDzB8N8_8AcmY1YfVTohky209QTEhgZXQlaIFJZyMblWKIn/s1600/IMG_6872.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkFrELQ1vyWXtwxiFqM9RZKQoi0w3ReRLVBo2kT2QhCkNssdNuAwbhdWpCo1hi_cTAiMh5vQlRSxivr6Qw3Tgs8iQ_pmxvsDzB8N8_8AcmY1YfVTohky209QTEhgZXQlaIFJZyMblWKIn/s400/IMG_6872.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481295304923941682" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Throwing his ball with determination (and wearing a stylin' swim diaper)<br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">Our child is a social butterfly! He craves social interaction and attention. I am pretty sure he has already met everyone on our block. My mom was out in the front yard with him one day, and he saw a neighbor a couple of houses down. He started running down the sidewalk babbling and waving her down. A few days later my dad had him in Borders and was standing in line for several minutes waiting to check out. He said that Reid was trying his hardest to get the attention of people standing in line without success. Reid was getting very frustrated until finally someone looked and said hi. Apparently, he thinks that public adoration is his birthright.<br /></div><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwVitGtbyjK_P216CIoWq_uh5VscyQZ8nojDwg0KBEAg2piaNFr6yYObBz4STaiYp_vyoJj6IxhU8nHFnldnYkFis5TNG7s8cwW9YxbWk6FDPK42MPe5KVnFwMB6LU9KfVwvCIZBBOFyvT/s1600/IMG_6799.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwVitGtbyjK_P216CIoWq_uh5VscyQZ8nojDwg0KBEAg2piaNFr6yYObBz4STaiYp_vyoJj6IxhU8nHFnldnYkFis5TNG7s8cwW9YxbWk6FDPK42MPe5KVnFwMB6LU9KfVwvCIZBBOFyvT/s400/IMG_6799.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481250231248290978" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Reid wanting to be held by Daddy</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJH_nJhrHf90pLL4ZF96Qdg82AVZbrfmnh7NxaPP1imvPI8mvimkYK5goEiHcR2E1Shm6bSYi5fuJy4u3GxKKNGsY07NR0Wr7-JRBy3JPjlkY1sibBpljtIX2A7Ml1qTKtZkNN1Yi4_OD/s1600/IMG_6805.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJH_nJhrHf90pLL4ZF96Qdg82AVZbrfmnh7NxaPP1imvPI8mvimkYK5goEiHcR2E1Shm6bSYi5fuJy4u3GxKKNGsY07NR0Wr7-JRBy3JPjlkY1sibBpljtIX2A7Ml1qTKtZkNN1Yi4_OD/s400/IMG_6805.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481250224091729282" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Running man</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Reid is saying some words that we understand, and I know that he says plenty more that we have yet to pick up on. Right now he uses "bah" for many, many things: "ball", "bird", "airplane", "dog". It is always accompanied by emphatic pointing. Reid also says "mama" and "dada", "woof-woof", "up" and "bye". He signs "more" (for which he also says "bah") and "all done". <br /><br />He is a good eater, but definitely likes to exert control over <span style="font-style: italic;">what </span>he eats and <span style="font-style: italic;">when</span>. He is quite fickle--one day he'll scarf something down and the next he acts offended that you have besmirched his high chair tray with the same food. I have learned <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> to say that Reid loves or hates certain foods. It really just depends on his mood. Reid does eat the food that we eat, but he also has his "toddler" foods that he loves.<br /><br />Reid's food staples these days:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Fruits:</span> blueberries, strawberries, apples, pears, mango, banana, oranges/tangerines<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Vegetables:</span> sweet potatoes, butternut squash, zucchini and green peas (lately, he rejects green vegetables unless they are lightly tossed with ginger-soy sauce)<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Other: </span>chicken salad sandwiches, diced ham (we buy a small ham, dice it into baby-sized pieces, glaze it with an orange spice sauce, bake in the oven, and freeze for future use), yogurt, waffles, veggie burger patties, cheddar cheese, grilled cheese, PB&J, and eggs<br /><br />He is learning to use utensils, and he can feed himself a container of yogurt with about 2/3 ending up in his mouth. <br /><br />Reid is engaging in much more functional play. He offers his milk cup to his stuffed animals and baby doll/sister-in-training. He gives the doll a pacifier and tries to take off and put on its hat. He likes to brush his hair with my hairbrush and pretend to put his lotion on himself. <br /><br />He is obsessed with being outside. He plays outside in his water table and new baby pool. He plays in the dirt. He plays on his little slide climber. He loves to go on walks. Whoever is lucky enough to walk him in the 100 degree heat often gets home and takes him out of his stroller only for him to climb right back in and point at the door and grunt. <br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">But the thing Reid is the best at? Melting hearts with his smile!<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGcH8HjqWxtX3RGWtCY3dtHbZE51bmWvu5QE9z_q7H_YgAI3XfdseQR7OOCkdcOIcJKMfUJw-wyxc5YdWDKydCDzPUVGv9oeHFR_gs9XQatGJVnbrvxjz4phsX_PZwGQrbC8Qs_j0IQ-Sf/s1600/IMG_6874.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGcH8HjqWxtX3RGWtCY3dtHbZE51bmWvu5QE9z_q7H_YgAI3XfdseQR7OOCkdcOIcJKMfUJw-wyxc5YdWDKydCDzPUVGv9oeHFR_gs9XQatGJVnbrvxjz4phsX_PZwGQrbC8Qs_j0IQ-Sf/s400/IMG_6874.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481248691134112674" border="0" /></a><br /></div>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-53339027395969094002010-05-29T09:13:00.004-05:002010-05-29T09:48:56.157-05:00Good News / Annoying NewsThis definitely isn't a good news/ <span style="font-style: italic;">bad</span> news post. So instead of bad news, we'll call it <span style="font-style: italic;">annoying </span>news.<br /><br />First, the good news! I went to the doctor on Thursday, and my cervix was actually LONGER (2.3 cm to be precise). Who knew 3mm of change could be so exciting? The whole time I was on bed rest with Reid things never improved. They didn't get worse, which was a victory, but we never saw a reversal of the initial condition. The first six weeks of this bed rest journey looked to be the same. Things were either getting worse or staying stable. I never dared hope for improvement.<br /><br />We're not sure why things have gotten better. Perhaps the experimental progesterone injections are working? I have made it to 26 weeks, and I know that with every day that passes, our baby girl is growing and developing by leaps and bounds.<br /><br />The annoying news: I have been on bed rest for 6 weeks. That's 42 days. I think. This happens to be the length of my entire bed resting journey with Reid, and I'm STILL not as far along this time as I was when I started bed rest the last time. In short, I'm slowly losing my mind. I'm getting cranky and horribly Vitamin D deficient. My muscles have atrophied and my energy levels have plummeted. And I still have <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">8 more weeks</span></span> before I am far enough along that my doctor will let me off of bed rest. <br /><br />The real tragedy of this situation--the thing that keeps me up at night--my hair. That's right, folks. I'm that shallow. You see, the day the doctor put me on bed rest (April 16, for those who are keeping track), I had planned to call and schedule an appointment to get my hair cut and highlighted. I was already at a Level Yellow hair emergency, but we had been so busy that I had not had time to see the lovely Dana. We have now surpassed Level Red. DEFCON 5. All-out hair crisis. My head is an unruly, frizzy mop. What's worse? R-O-O-T-S. I'm seeing my natural hair color for the first time since I was 15, and it is NOT pretty. The pasty-white-soft-and-jiggly-bodied, frizzy-two-toned-headed reflection that greets me in the mirror is the stuff nightmares are made of. Seriously. I'm pretty sure that after this hair <span style="font-style: italic;">experiment</span>, Brian will never again complain about me spending money on my hair. (Okay, okay, if you know Brian you know that this is not true. He will <span style="font-style: italic;">always</span> complain about the amount of money I spend on hair maintenance.)<br /><br />Prior to my appointment on Thursday, I made the executive decision that my <span style="font-style: italic;">strict </span>bed rest had lasted long enough. I was still going to be very, very good and cautious, but I was going to go see Dana so she could take a weed whacker to my head. I just needed to run this by my doctor, but I was sure he would agree. After all, I've been SO GOOD the last 6 weeks. I may have gotten a tad carried away and also started planning an outing with Brian, Reid, my parents, and my sister and her family. The big outing was going to be today. I was going to go for a wheelchair ride in the Arboretum. <br /><br />Then came Thursday. The day of reckoning. I ran my list of requests past the nurse before the doctor came in. I guess she ran them by the good doctor. He walks in the exam room and says:<br /><br />"I hear you have a couple of requests, and the answer to both of them is...YES!...in 8 more weeks you are welcome to get your hair done and go to the Arboretum."<br /><br />Evil, evil man. I'm seriously considering firing him and finding another (more permissive) doctor. When I told him that I was pretty sure I would lose my mind if I wasn't allowed to leave the house soon he said:<br /><br />"Allison, this is probably politically incorrect, but I don't really care about your <span style="font-style: italic;">mind</span> right now."<br /><br />Alrighty then.<br /><br />And so this beautiful, holiday summer morning, I am blogging from the couch. Again. I'm not sure how I'm going to make it for 8 more weeks. I will persevere, and I will succeed. And of course I know that it will be worth it in the end. Meanwhile, if you have the misfortune of visiting me in the near future, avert your eyes and spare yourself the agony of seeing me in all bed resting glory.The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-39048063037162903142010-05-22T11:02:00.010-05:002010-05-22T11:50:30.801-05:00Reid's 1st Birthday (3 months later...)Here is my VERY belated post on Reid's first birthday party. Go ahead and judge.<br /><br />February 20, 2010:<br /><br />I'm normally not overly sentimental, but the night before Reid's first birthday, I sat in our room holding the little knit soccer hat he wore the day he was born and <span style="font-style: italic;">crying</span> over how small it was. I could not believe how big our baby was getting. The last year has been filled with such joy, excitement and learning, and we are so proud of our precious son.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDii4r8T6TN28OrusPNPxdvj3CBCnA1Od6Dc6Bpf8weVmb33S-5De8kF8xySfQRr8mSUVZD6FNDeGxU9me-vnWZt79bB07fXyGGuhYGaBDCMcqnc7k84FTqFcVuDtEVf_Pk0gXkD-N9ybR/s1600/IMG_7620.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDii4r8T6TN28OrusPNPxdvj3CBCnA1Od6Dc6Bpf8weVmb33S-5De8kF8xySfQRr8mSUVZD6FNDeGxU9me-vnWZt79bB07fXyGGuhYGaBDCMcqnc7k84FTqFcVuDtEVf_Pk0gXkD-N9ybR/s400/IMG_7620.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474135342618183234" border="0" /></a><br />Reid: one day old<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiMphkvehl9poz13wuUKSBqtM-gL3ihUC9PfQ7Lp9syCy_OlKmJDXBxEyCjhAf1KmzW19fw17qs0sELsl5gd3uyiPfs3Wls3SjW3WXtDAeQfwy3LQjIZV1409p72M8qKu2v2n0_OdjGYJ/s1600/photo-4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiMphkvehl9poz13wuUKSBqtM-gL3ihUC9PfQ7Lp9syCy_OlKmJDXBxEyCjhAf1KmzW19fw17qs0sELsl5gd3uyiPfs3Wls3SjW3WXtDAeQfwy3LQjIZV1409p72M8qKu2v2n0_OdjGYJ/s400/photo-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474137157876751970" border="0" /></a><br />Reid: One year old<br /></div><br />Reid's party was train-themed. He loves to play in boxes, so Daddy constructed a train out of cardboard as the centerpiece of our fancy party. I decided to make Reid's birthday cake, and it may be the last kids cake I ever make. Good heavens, what a stressful mess!<br /><br />When time for the party arrived, wouldn't you know that Reid "I'm-Not-A-Great-Napper" McFarland was sound asleep in his crib as guest after guest arrived. Brian and I finally woke up him over an hour into the party. He loved seeing all his guests and playing in his cardboard train. He enjoyed his cake and actually didn't make too big of a mess while eating it. It was a great day, and we are so thankful for all of our family and friends that came out to celebrate our sweet boy.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHHLtE-o6WjkSA-fpyql1lat5XM-7AaT-aAKoinkvPGGjt9lLYvQi9f-jSou3H_rl7gobf1H0tAxxT92jno2PamDKuFqQmFjjvm-4UuChdXMofPVk5bMpUNoEQM-oUB-TGMIrHZfptgPG/s1600/IMG_0932.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHHLtE-o6WjkSA-fpyql1lat5XM-7AaT-aAKoinkvPGGjt9lLYvQi9f-jSou3H_rl7gobf1H0tAxxT92jno2PamDKuFqQmFjjvm-4UuChdXMofPVk5bMpUNoEQM-oUB-TGMIrHZfptgPG/s400/IMG_0932.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474129657219102402" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRmI-tAhvmlILEsKKkIUEapCItc4yq6WBTfUEfGcVmsYM3lO87Cvr01y0-4wQV8Vv6pPplxTRyf_lLxOK9yWjJftOS0tAP56Tdd2iQr0WuazE0-fvgE9UhseHakHwFv9pzjQUnv87Izhta/s1600/IMG_0086.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRmI-tAhvmlILEsKKkIUEapCItc4yq6WBTfUEfGcVmsYM3lO87Cvr01y0-4wQV8Vv6pPplxTRyf_lLxOK9yWjJftOS0tAP56Tdd2iQr0WuazE0-fvgE9UhseHakHwFv9pzjQUnv87Izhta/s400/IMG_0086.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474132321396511634" border="0" /></a><br />Reid's friends partying without him while he naps.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHLnZvL-I3n4LEAqJSlevI5IAxAUjuzCuikxCboXjkakanLpyV84hyphenhyphendnVTpdgsOK1zeB25dmllpEYFxB_VTkcJuWsgh0RLSHuU7REA2tHyLQ3vcQCY8uUP-O9KT4k4E-WHz2lhu1UZinR/s1600/IMG_1032.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHLnZvL-I3n4LEAqJSlevI5IAxAUjuzCuikxCboXjkakanLpyV84hyphenhyphendnVTpdgsOK1zeB25dmllpEYFxB_VTkcJuWsgh0RLSHuU7REA2tHyLQ3vcQCY8uUP-O9KT4k4E-WHz2lhu1UZinR/s400/IMG_1032.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474132301182056802" border="0" /></a><br />Reid playing in the train with Daddy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpe2uoKybs4RmOmN7pPZXHL3HWvWqsjczXlWkJfC1okT9wZI3_3XQJDv7YhcC-8lzBDX5NaXv5hoGI-Q0vkVBQZlH2RG5E5DcVIScESoNyT9EHjTIt6a2Kx2qTHzJfwxTyCKrpXf9Dwaa/s1600/IMG_0984.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpe2uoKybs4RmOmN7pPZXHL3HWvWqsjczXlWkJfC1okT9wZI3_3XQJDv7YhcC-8lzBDX5NaXv5hoGI-Q0vkVBQZlH2RG5E5DcVIScESoNyT9EHjTIt6a2Kx2qTHzJfwxTyCKrpXf9Dwaa/s400/IMG_0984.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474131328100189746" border="0" /></a><br />Playing in the train with Auntie Sarah.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMCufcAfzmI5XJ1fCFGAmYvq2bktuQIaq3GFuJkUvCVmMeI5p98OxfrKYHOvo0ZqVXPuo7RWhO3p0cjsUYpDLL5hT1RidxPYf-IQacpWFvnmQnbLylRN7jNuT5VmQqAxJ4ef9Y0-OAXVe-/s1600/IMG_0953.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMCufcAfzmI5XJ1fCFGAmYvq2bktuQIaq3GFuJkUvCVmMeI5p98OxfrKYHOvo0ZqVXPuo7RWhO3p0cjsUYpDLL5hT1RidxPYf-IQacpWFvnmQnbLylRN7jNuT5VmQqAxJ4ef9Y0-OAXVe-/s400/IMG_0953.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474131319163185778" border="0" /></a><br />Reid's friends Rylin, Avery and Carson<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnTjCsi8erQwxiDyazYYndszOw68HHQYzwL9DqjRpuwKCtt9d8bPysyGYvuni8_xKSDAPxzFFql_KndRfpTzOufuQfPE0U9IByzKOEK7z-4rJji86YTLa8DEObAosWTmVAyGRIFLxl61m/s1600/IMG_0131.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnTjCsi8erQwxiDyazYYndszOw68HHQYzwL9DqjRpuwKCtt9d8bPysyGYvuni8_xKSDAPxzFFql_KndRfpTzOufuQfPE0U9IByzKOEK7z-4rJji86YTLa8DEObAosWTmVAyGRIFLxl61m/s400/IMG_0131.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474131309422336066" border="0" /></a><br />Singing Happy Birthday!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga30OvmBtQJhLd8K9hyAAmHt9ZkcB1i7_XtLlDLpZ48xnLgZb-h2vLVcJvmnWEPP9Rv9cgV_1jwLRUHiAJb0EDMFeaF5QoWkecUhN4RpIM_myRVJHmNyjoXYwzWhh_MRPCfF7Qd97nlqTZ/s1600/IMG_0948.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga30OvmBtQJhLd8K9hyAAmHt9ZkcB1i7_XtLlDLpZ48xnLgZb-h2vLVcJvmnWEPP9Rv9cgV_1jwLRUHiAJb0EDMFeaF5QoWkecUhN4RpIM_myRVJHmNyjoXYwzWhh_MRPCfF7Qd97nlqTZ/s400/IMG_0948.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474131302751919698" border="0" /></a><br />Reid just woke up and is trying to figure out why all these people are in his house.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3cLlt_PdFgApm1CrFLC0YVCpcmbK6rH6FLO6oe5x6sMx0nSfXhPCXhd2awTZmdrfb7-z24Pf1CABbl2PaLRKdXmM7lzKhLCWunD5l3rWZYPOvNGDz3o9BBWek3MC6J5AEls-r76MMYW_/s1600/IMG_0936.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3cLlt_PdFgApm1CrFLC0YVCpcmbK6rH6FLO6oe5x6sMx0nSfXhPCXhd2awTZmdrfb7-z24Pf1CABbl2PaLRKdXmM7lzKhLCWunD5l3rWZYPOvNGDz3o9BBWek3MC6J5AEls-r76MMYW_/s400/IMG_0936.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474131291994007650" border="0" /></a><br />Very excited about the balloons before the party started.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3p3jHKnQ4pORR9_lTK4fZ2wn97bXEIgENfqlyGBpNvm-VIR2B5taMo0Qf69hUxs7djXHXxmIn7QJ4UYbBOPAVh3wA80NzNCM11OQyyD6lREntdDq_3mUuG3ByHXh2c-PYl9WSJlmc3jg/s1600/IMG_0135.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3p3jHKnQ4pORR9_lTK4fZ2wn97bXEIgENfqlyGBpNvm-VIR2B5taMo0Qf69hUxs7djXHXxmIn7QJ4UYbBOPAVh3wA80NzNCM11OQyyD6lREntdDq_3mUuG3ByHXh2c-PYl9WSJlmc3jg/s400/IMG_0135.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474129696683076290" border="0" /></a><br />Eating yummy cake.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Pwje0nGfgWPmboM-fGuk5r08XXAWuVXGi-AZJJii-3kvMNw3O431AGWwP31M8ELjH9iXXkx5EJOUY8r1nwGHApgeGQ-nR31cCLKnnAuQuT7FyFeqX5XaJlZSm9_BfmOgu4CcuvpTRLd8/s1600/IMG_0110.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Pwje0nGfgWPmboM-fGuk5r08XXAWuVXGi-AZJJii-3kvMNw3O431AGWwP31M8ELjH9iXXkx5EJOUY8r1nwGHApgeGQ-nR31cCLKnnAuQuT7FyFeqX5XaJlZSm9_BfmOgu4CcuvpTRLd8/s400/IMG_0110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474129686647014578" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWm_VgoCdCyUg2xOJ7VImihZBSJ5nvdnujhjuJ4Rq7j4p6UgSweP2wceKQcBUl8mBmSHqhwfOu3G4RIxDR4UxVUYW57GRmXGGuvbY-d3hYTsYFc1pAE-Er9Z_aRLN1i0U6pWBWLTYLg3Xv/s1600/IMG_0940.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWm_VgoCdCyUg2xOJ7VImihZBSJ5nvdnujhjuJ4Rq7j4p6UgSweP2wceKQcBUl8mBmSHqhwfOu3G4RIxDR4UxVUYW57GRmXGGuvbY-d3hYTsYFc1pAE-Er9Z_aRLN1i0U6pWBWLTYLg3Xv/s400/IMG_0940.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474129680035747602" border="0" /></a><br />The finished masterpiece (sort of...at least it didn't collapse before the party started)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaNtgMbbrMOUNysqq1QTgBzXMpJhrzZPm-TVMZy_c3HiMbBLYUpLJaiz2EzcVk9cxEai60RVYaXIbQEPScmdWNh3Am98mhbWSbnla5zl2M9cjUit-Cmr_iRiqOMu1jZna6E6UijzFF3L-9/s1600/IMG_0092.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaNtgMbbrMOUNysqq1QTgBzXMpJhrzZPm-TVMZy_c3HiMbBLYUpLJaiz2EzcVk9cxEai60RVYaXIbQEPScmdWNh3Am98mhbWSbnla5zl2M9cjUit-Cmr_iRiqOMu1jZna6E6UijzFF3L-9/s400/IMG_0092.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474129666808781010" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />And one last funny picture. The train engine being held up by a tequila bottle the night before Reid's party. This pretty much sums up the cake-baking experience.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6R6HSt7HJi4H2XsRFMM6EEXT3jWERnVonpHd9eCljQXNHhkiTdbazdRQtBS45Z_DOm1lT4fMVOJhx_kGhzT-OF89k9se298OF9IX5B-8_FvlARxRURGV2_Yk1Z-WYGE-ES0b86_oXvcF/s1600/IMG_0040.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6R6HSt7HJi4H2XsRFMM6EEXT3jWERnVonpHd9eCljQXNHhkiTdbazdRQtBS45Z_DOm1lT4fMVOJhx_kGhzT-OF89k9se298OF9IX5B-8_FvlARxRURGV2_Yk1Z-WYGE-ES0b86_oXvcF/s400/IMG_0040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474134418964236626" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-17035354870957445282010-05-18T17:33:00.003-05:002010-05-18T19:01:10.956-05:00New HouseHere is a picture of the front of our new house along with a couple of pictures of Reid playing the weekend we moved in. I promise to try and have my "people" take pictures of the inside of the house one of these days.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv4Stg72FDYtW6HGnbVHdDuf5U68bFSWQPqwHhpsJuLrNHqYxObsW99o5NwBtlFj9Z7lkwp_QdjbO4zq7t3NYbqsce-9zdxwzBSqY9b5aa-0fJDdCqzdQDqrCV8JTA3qeSwVukKFs3sI8f/s1600/IMG_6143.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv4Stg72FDYtW6HGnbVHdDuf5U68bFSWQPqwHhpsJuLrNHqYxObsW99o5NwBtlFj9Z7lkwp_QdjbO4zq7t3NYbqsce-9zdxwzBSqY9b5aa-0fJDdCqzdQDqrCV8JTA3qeSwVukKFs3sI8f/s400/IMG_6143.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472743178991661474" border="0" /></a><br />Being pulled in the ice chest by Grandad in my new backyard.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ZqUvVJpGoGW55qPMlxZbSj-YrasoCbdrB7324Rslpe_fMJinSXC73mKQRi0DoBqidBIdPdwCni26NCf-4IstzCMyLdQhxKPkcGsDG2eUSo5X4qQ79X_ntey0OucDC49co25AzajCsWU4/s1600/IMG_6133.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ZqUvVJpGoGW55qPMlxZbSj-YrasoCbdrB7324Rslpe_fMJinSXC73mKQRi0DoBqidBIdPdwCni26NCf-4IstzCMyLdQhxKPkcGsDG2eUSo5X4qQ79X_ntey0OucDC49co25AzajCsWU4/s400/IMG_6133.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472743169102508386" border="0" /></a><br />Front of our house...Brian has since spruced up the landscaping a little<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxBJq3lZNO_Ca2oO3E-rcX1-s0pokhX7pq4zHIMTQp00zDAYHdHEIrZOM4yWL1JZuTEsiohEMjmWwtQ0Fz-6G1Xf_-304QvlQr9_pzqg1KO2hkw8sfAwuLsxndY_XEwm6utuSfIAhC_Bhi/s1600/IMG_6147.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxBJq3lZNO_Ca2oO3E-rcX1-s0pokhX7pq4zHIMTQp00zDAYHdHEIrZOM4yWL1JZuTEsiohEMjmWwtQ0Fz-6G1Xf_-304QvlQr9_pzqg1KO2hkw8sfAwuLsxndY_XEwm6utuSfIAhC_Bhi/s400/IMG_6147.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472743155388578898" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Reid loved the water table we got him for his birthday (in February!); he's just now getting to use it.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I like our house a lot, but the backyard is by far my favorite part. Reid adores being outside, and at our old house we had the pool in the backyard and lived on a street that was fairly busy. So he wasn't allowed a whole lot of freedom when playing outside. Now he plays outside every day. He digs in the dirt, rolls in the grass and plays on his little slide/climber. <br /></div></div>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-64209753350825357632010-05-16T09:42:00.004-05:002010-05-16T10:37:30.284-05:00Early Retirement and Other Ramblings...<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" >It's official. I am retired. I submitted my letter of resignation to UT Southwestern last week as a formality. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" >The plan (before my crazy cervix took over my life and the rest of me completely lost control) was to work through the end of May and then resign. I would say my good-byes to all my coworkers and gather up all my belongings. My affairs would all be in order, and it would be a clean break. I would have closure. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" >I left work on Thursday, April 15, telling my coworkers I'd see them Monday. Obviously, God had other things in store for me. So now, I'm retired, but all of my "stuff" (diplomas, books, lab coats, important paperwork, etc...) is still in the office. Even worse is the fact that I shared an office, they have already hired my replacement, and I feel like my work stuff is in the way and has likely been moved into a heap somewhere. This is fine and understandable, but it just leaves me feeling such a loss of control and closure. In fact, I'm getting a tad anxious just typing about it. And by a tad, I mean my heart rate is up, my palms are sweaty and I'm getting slightly nauseous and dizzy.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" >Anyway.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" >I am happy about my decision to leave work for the next year or two (or five). In fact, I had started to really look forward to being a full-time stay-at-home mom during this pregnancy. I was only working two days a week, and it was great in some ways. However, I often found that working part-time left me feeling like an inadequate speech pathologist and an inadequate mom. I have completely unrealistic expectations that being a full-time SAHM will resolve all of my inadequacy issues. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" >If I'm honest (and I usually am), leaving my job has created even more issues for me. I'm struggling with feeling a loss of identity and with nagging fears about the future of my career. I always wanted to be a SAHM, and I know that this is the right thing for our family right now. I hate that societal pressures (and apparently my own belief system) have left me feeling like a less valuable person because I'm not working outside the home. The funny thing is, I have always respected SAH moms and I always wanted to be one. It is very odd to me that when it comes to my situation my feelings change so very much.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" >This has all exposed some major flaws in the way I view my identity and self worth. And this post is getting too philosophical and I'm getting sweaty palms again. So enough of that.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" >In other news, I had a doctor's appointment on Friday. My cervix had stayed the same length as two weeks earlier, and we considered that a victory. The really big news is that we have reached 24 weeks which means this baby is considered viable outside the womb! I know the reality of a baby born so early, but I still feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I get my first round of steroid shots this week to help the baby's lungs develop more quickly in case she is born prematurely. I also started a somewhat experimental treatment last week called 17P injections. You can read about them </span><a style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);" href="http://www.chiff.com/health/pregnancy/17P.htm">here</a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" > if you are really bored. A home health nurse comes to our house to give me the shot. It was the longest needle I have ever seen in my life! I don't usually have needle anxiety, but I'm not kidding when I say the needle she injected in my "hip" was roughly this long: ___________________________</span>________<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" >I didn't cry. It really wasn't </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" >that</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-family:verdana;" > bad. I get to have another one on Wednesday--which is my birthday. Oh happy day. </span>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-73396934165369483132010-05-01T21:11:00.003-05:002010-05-01T21:37:08.737-05:00UpdateThis will be a fairly short update because we still don't have Internet at the new house, and I'm blogging via iPhone.<br /><br />I had my first follow up appt and sonogram on Friday. I was actually kind of excited and hopeful. I thought things might have improved since I went on bed rest. At the least, I hoped they would have remained the same. I mean, in the last two weeks, I have not participated in any of Reid's daily care, I have not been to work, and my activity level has been pretty minimal. I sat up at the table for some meals and sat in our leather recliner occasionally, but I spent most of my time on the couch or in bed.<br /><br />So, Brian and I were very disheartened when the ultrasound showed that thing were worse. My cervix is down to 2.0cm from 2.8cm on 4/16. It is frustrating and scary to do the right things and to still have a negative outcome. I could not feel more out of control right now.<br /><br />The good news: our sweet baby girl continues to grow and thrive and measure perfectly. <br /><br />The bad news: I'm just now 22 weeks, and we've got to keep her safe and healthy inside of me longer. A LOT longer!<br /><br />The plan: even more strict with the bed rest. I'm trying to stay lying down except to get up and go to the bathroom and for the occasional shower. No getting up to get a drink, sitting up to eat, etc... That, and lots of prayer. We continue to trust in the Lord and know that he us good. He already knows the plans he has for our precious girl.<br /><br />And, *when* (not if) I make it back for my next appt in two weeks, I'll be 24 weeks, the baby will be viable outside of the womb, and I will be far enough along to receive the first round of steroids to speed lung development.The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-16284293978622895202010-04-24T20:39:00.005-05:002010-04-24T21:15:55.277-05:00EmotionsToday was the big move, and tonight is our first night in the new house. I am overwhelmed by many emotions right now. Ugh. I hate being overly emotional, and I'm typically not so good at talking about how I really feel. But tonight I feel honest, so here goes:<br /><br />I am sad. I'm mourning the loss of being an active parent to Reid. I'm letting go of all the spring and summer fun I had planned for our family...trips to the Arboretum and zoo, afternoons at the park and playing in our new backyard. I'm sad because the combination of me being on bed rest and us moving seems to have been very difficult on Reid so far. He's out of sorts, fussy and needy. It breaks my heart that I can't always scoop him up and comfort him when he cries (and that sometimes, when he's crying and I hold my arms out to him, he turns away from me and runs to my mom). <br /><br />I'm tired of feeling deep, gnawing anxiety that keeps me awake for hours at night. I'm tired of analyzing every blasted feeling, twinge, sensation in my abdomen wondering if i'm only moments away from my water breaking and the devastating outcome that would bring. I'm sad that I've lost my excitement about having this sweet girl and that I can't bear to look at crib bedding and dresses online because it makes the precarious nature of this situation more real to me.<br /><br />In the midst of all this, I also feel overwhelmingly hopeful about this pregnancy and blessed by the friends and family in our lives. I have been so humbled by the support and love we've received so far.<br /><br />All this emotion, and we're only 1 week into this great adventure!<br /><br /><br />On a totally different note, we had to take Reid to the ER last night when he woke up with croup. All the steam in the world (or, rather, our hot water heater) could not call his breathing. The staff at Children's Plano was awesome, and after steroids and breathing treatments he was MUCH better. Seriously, I can't take anymore drama!!!The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-55525730888638233892010-04-19T22:13:00.002-05:002010-04-19T22:39:52.893-05:00SeriouslyMost of you know this already, but here is the scoop: <span style="font-style: italic;">(warning: the word cervix is used multiple times below)</span><br /><br />I went to the doctor for a routine check-up/ultrasound on Friday. I was 19 1/2 weeks at the time. Brian and Reid were with me. Our baby girl looks great! One of the choroid plexus cysts had completely resolved, and the other was much smaller. She was measuring perfectly, opening and closing her mouth and squirming, jumping and bouncing in a way that is eerily reminiscent of her brother's actions in utero... Scary! <br /><br />The bad news: My cervix was shorter than it should have been, and it was funneling (opening at the top which indicates weakness). Both of these things can indicate that pre-term labor is a possibility. This is <span style="font-style: italic;">exactly</span> what happened when I was pregnant with Reid with one major exception: I am about 9 weeks earlier in my pregnancy this time around. The minimum gestational age for viability is 24-25 weeks (with not-so-good long term prognosis). Needless to say: we were totally freaked out.<br /><br />My doctor wanted me to go home and start bed rest immediately. Unfortunately, there is no guarantee that this treatment will work. The good news: a) my cervix is longer now (2.8 cm) than it was when I went on bed rest with Reid (when it was 1.7 cm); and b) my doctor felt like the fact that my cervix stayed fairly stable for 10 weeks when I was on bed rest with Reid was a good sign this time around.<br /><br />The reality of our situation right now: I am on total bed rest for the duration of this pregnancy (and we are hoping that is a long, long time). Actually, that's not true...my doctor said in 14 weeks I can come off of bed rest and resume normal activities. That is 3 1/2 months from now. Holy moly, that's a long time! We need a minimum of 5-6 weeks to give this baby a fighting chance. Wow, typing that out makes it even more real.<br /><br />Ideally, I spend the vast majority of the day lying down as sitting can increase pressure on the cervix. I am sitting up occasionally throughout the day to relieve the pain in my back that is caused by constantly lying down. I am also showering every day or two. <span style="font-style: italic;">Yummy.</span> In the last four days I have moved from my bed to the couch to the leather chair and back again. This is my life. <br /><br />Oh yeah, and we're still moving this weekend.<br /><br />My mom is here for another week. I cannot imagine going through this without her help.<br /><br />Reid is doing well. I'm trying to figure out ways to spend quality time with him throughout the day. So far we have snuggled in bed between 6-7am, read books, watched Barney and Sesame Street and eaten non-messy snacks in bed together. He also climbs in my lap for lots of hugs and kisses throughout the day.<br /><br />Brian is holding down the fort and working and coordinating this move. Crazy.<br /><br />The only family members who are insanely excited about this bed rest? Baxter and Bristow, of course! My loyal companions are thrilled about the unlimited snuggle time and attention they are getting from me right now. <br /><br />I'm sure you'll hear much, MUCH more from me in the near future. I have nothing but time...The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-64316724627406999932010-04-13T11:15:00.002-05:002010-04-13T11:45:28.412-05:00Update VomitSo, it's been quite awhile since I blogged. We have lots going on. Lots of things have changed. I don't have the energy to do multiple posts at the moment so here is my stream-of-consciousness update vomit:<br /><br /><ul><li>I am 19 weeks pregnant. With a girl. We are thrilled, and this is the first girl in the McFarland family in 85 years!</li></ul><ul><li>The last 2-3 months I literally feel like I crawled in a hole and lived in a state of semi-consciousness. I was exhausted, stricken with migraines and tension headaches, and sick with one illness after another. I had two sinus infections, bronchitis, laryngitis and pharyngitis. And no, not at the same time. This loveliness continued on for weeks, and weeks, and weeks. As soon as I would start to feel better, I'd get slammed with some new and delightful viral illness. Ultimately, all of the coughing (plus pregnancy-related reflux) led to painful growth/ulcer thingy on my vocal cord called a granuloma. Ironically, I treat patients who have these all the time but couldn't prevent it from happening to me. Awesome. All this in addition to "morning" sickness. And raising a feisty, energetic one year old.</li></ul><ul><li>We are selling our house to some wonderful buyers. They are a middle-aged couple from Denver who are moving to the area to be closer to their fabulous son, daughter-in-law and grandson. That's right, folks! Brian's parents are moving here, and buying our house from us. We close at the end of April (hopefully!)</li></ul><ul><li>We are buying a house about 8 minutes from our current house. For those familiar with the area, it is in Allen but still Plano ISD. It is bigger and does NOT have a pool. This makes us very happy...especially since Mimi and Grandpa will be living in a house with a pool :-) The house has plenty of room for guests so plan your next vacation for Allen, Texas and stay at the Hotel McFarland!</li></ul><ul><li>I traveled alone to Maryland at the end of March for my wonderful friend Barbara's baby shower. I got to catch up with all my awesome grad school friends while Brian and his dad took care of Reid at home. <br /></li></ul><ul><li>Brian's dad has been living with us part-time. His new contracting position started before they sold their house in Colorado. Since mid-February, he has been staying part-time in Fort Worth and part-time in his future house. Some may think it would be weird to have your father-in-law living with you, however, I am here to tell you that it has been tremendously helpful in this season of our lives! He has watched Reid on the weekends while we house-hunted, slept, and packed boxes. He has also been a tremendous help as an extra set of adult-sized hands in our house lately.<br /></li></ul><ul><li>My parents came up to Plano and stayed with Reid for a long weekend, while Brian and I spent 4 nights in Southern California. We had a wonderful time, and it was just what the doctor ordered. I have finally turned the corner and feel much better (most of the time!)</li></ul><ul><li>Our house is semi-packed (i.e., we're living in a state of confusion and chaos). We move in 10 days. My mom is the packing Nazi. Last weekend she came up and oversaw what Brian and I are referring to as "the carnage". Basically, if it wasn't nailed down, she tried to pack it (even though we still had about 3 weeks left in our house!) In all seriousness, there are no words for how thankful I am for my mother's help and organization. I cannot imagine having to go through this move without her help.</li></ul><ul><li>Reid is great! He is growing like a weed and walking/running all over the place. His personality is bigger than ever, and he has started expressing himself more verbally. He is currently obsessed with playing with trucks and cars and throwing balls. Honestly, he's into throwing everything. In fact, the other day, he threw a wooden block at my head. Hard. It hurt, and I was not amused. Reid, on the other hand, was quite proud of himself and laughed maniacally. <br /></li></ul><ul><li>Through all this insanity, I have continued to work part-time. Retirement is in sight, though. May 27 will be my last day of work before I enter into early retirement/full-time motherhood. This was a tough choice for us, but the closer it gets, the more I know it is the right choice. ...for now, anyway. We will probably revisit this issue in a year or two. <br /></li></ul><ul><li>My dad is retiring in December, and my parents will most likely be moving to the area! That's right...BOTH sets of grandparents nearby! We are thrilled and know how blessed we are that our parents are choosing to live near us. <br /></li></ul><ul><li>Brian's been working hard, traveling frequently for work and picking up the slack around here since I've been basically worthless lately. He takes Reid on jogs with him (in the stroller), and they spend a good chunk of every evening wrestling/yelling/doing "man stuff" that Mommy couldn't possibly understand.<br /></li></ul>That's all my addled brain can come up with for now. I promise to post pictures of my adorable son soon.The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-752363912762622042.post-89731614821057738162010-02-26T21:21:00.003-06:002010-02-26T21:24:03.694-06:00TwoWe're excited to announce Baby McFarland #2 is expected to arrive 9/7/10!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimmEpqqCoko-9fklYxLKrWZniMS8F7t1ozNbPFHc1VgYQt1Pk3SsWKaItesaC21LFHiEcMnnlo-TyPlt64-zQRqbEtSgJXAy9h9GeJU9BClh_GYeXdhshm2lAM4uWrFf4l3NKQtdEfYibm/s1600-h/photo-5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimmEpqqCoko-9fklYxLKrWZniMS8F7t1ozNbPFHc1VgYQt1Pk3SsWKaItesaC21LFHiEcMnnlo-TyPlt64-zQRqbEtSgJXAy9h9GeJU9BClh_GYeXdhshm2lAM4uWrFf4l3NKQtdEfYibm/s400/photo-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442758241817170898" border="0" /></a>The McFarland Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13200905223910567602noreply@blogger.com4