Alexander's new chair

We gave away our bouncy seat before we moved (long before we moved), wagering that we wouldn't need it again (at least in Durham...and we didn't, technically). That meant that we were without a bouncy seat for Alexander. So I finally ordered one because he needs a place to be that is at once in the thick of things and far enough removed from the action that he isn't in mortal peril.

Probably what he actually needs is a forcefield. But we figured we'd try a chair first. 

Andrew put it together on Sunday and then we let Alexander "try it out." He approached this new experience with caution, which seems to be how he approaches most things in life:

"Wait! Wait! Whoa! Why are you putting me down? Why are you putting me down? What is this thing? Help!"

Belly Button Boy

On Saturday I went to a cousin's bridal shower with my mom and Rosie. And Alexander, of course. Zoë wasn't thrilled about being left behind but she was even less happy with the idea that I'd be taking the baby—her baby—with me.

"Take my baby," she said, shaking her head at me. "No, Mommy. No."

As sorry as I was to disappoint her, I told her that Alexander was coming with me. End of story.

So I took the baby and we left for the bridal shower only a half hour after we were planning on leaving (getting ready with a newborn takes forever).

At the end of the shower, the hostess'/my cousin's children came home from their grandparents' house and little Everett watched with horror as I prepared to change Alexander's stinky bum.

"That's hurting your baby!" he said, pointing to his umbilical cord stump.

"Oh, that doesn't hurt him at all!" I assured Everett. "It's going to turn into his bellybutton!"

Everett's eyes got wide and he shook his head at me.

"That's hurting your baby," he repeated.

"It's really not," I said and tried again to explain the wonder of the umbilical cord/belly button to him. He did not respond well at all. Soon others in the room joined in the effort to soothe poor, traumatized Everett.

"Don't worry," his dad told him. "In a couple of days it will fall off and..."

"FALL OFF?!!" Everett repeated, now cowering across the room from that icky, icky umbilicus.

Meeting the family

Alexander has had a busy week getting to know his relatives! They started popping by the hospital Saturday morning at around 8:00 (when he was just 6 hours old) and there's been a steady stream of them ever since—and there's still more to meet! We haven't been the best at getting pictures of everyone but...we're a little outnumbered over here, so...anyway...

While not our first visitors in the hospital, all these little ones were perhaps the most excited and important visitors:

The fun continues...into the sky

Last week (while we were in the hospital), Grandma saw this thing pop up in her Facebook feed about a little lottery for a seat on a small plane at the Spanish Fork airport, hosted by the Springville Flying Club. It was for kids 10–17 and there were only 100 spots available, so she figured she'd go ahead and submit Rachel's name, thinking that she probably wouldn't get chosen, but, as you probably already guessed, she was.

Karen got an email on Friday informing her that Rachel was slated to fly Saturday morning at 9:50 am. They certainly didn't give a lot of advance notice!

My initial reaction was one of trepidation because airplanes—and small planes in particular—make me nervous, but I knew Andrew would be all for it* so I took a deep breath and calmly (I hope; that's what I was going for) told Karen she could accept Rachel's spot on the plane. 

The next morning Andrew took Rachel down to the airport and sent her up in a 1968 Beech, a little six-seater plane. And she had fun. And she didn't die. All good things, all good things...

Look at my wonderful village!

Not that we had any sort of spectacular plans for fall break anyway, but Alexander's arrival meant that I, for one, was completely out of commission—hunkered down, in bed, with a newborn. I admit that I was a little worried that the kids would be bored out of their minds their whole vacation and would go to school with no news other than "newborns are actually quite boring" while their friends were telling tales of camping and road trips and Disneyland and so forth. 

Fortunately, our wonderful village didn't let our children idle away their time. 

On Thursday morning, Grandma bravely took all four kids to a pumpkin patch. It cost $3 to "get in" but then all the "attractions" (except horseback rides) were free, so it ended up being a good deal. My mom was impressed with the idea because all the rides used farm equipment, which, in her opinion, makes the best sort of playground (it's the sort of playground she grew up on). I'll admit that climbing around farm equipment is rather fun (I've done a bit of it myself, though not nearly as much as my mother).

Here they are on the horse-walker-turned-swing-set:

One week later I'm feeding my baby nightly...

This week has been a blur. It's been full of tears and laughter, naps and homework, store-bought lasagna and Relief Society casserole, more bodily fluids than I'd care to mention, and a whole lot of cuteness. But mostly it's been a blur.

Look around, look around!

Pumpkin carving

Andrew accompanied the girls to a pumpkin carving activity at the church this evening. Technically Miriam isn't quite old enough for Activity Days but he took her along anyway because it was a Daddy/Daughter date night so he figured he could choose whichever daughters he wanted to take (and her birthday is in, like, one week and then she will be old enough). He probably would have taken Zoë, too, except he knew he'd be walking into a room full of carving tools (which is really no place for a toddler). 

Here they are with their pumpkins that they carved (mostly) all by themselves:

They seemed to have a good time together and I'm glad the girls could get some one-on-one time (two-on-one time...at least some older-kid-on-dad time) with their dad. Having a new baby join the family is difficult for everyone and I think they both needed a night out!

I's more tired than I think I am

Benjamin finished his reading lessons today! His prize of choice was "a boat that doesn't go in the bathtub." We found a little LEGO set of a boat and decided that qualified as not bathtub worthy so we ordered it for him. It's been sitting patiently on Andrew's desk, waiting for Benjamin to finish, which—did I mention—he managed to do today.

Way to go, Benjamin!

Pumping

My milk has come in—with a vengeance (which I should be used to by now)—so I'm rekindling a relationship very best friend, The Breast Pump. Technically speaking, I know that pumping increases my milk supply. Unfortunately, not pumping isn't an option when a raging case of mastitis is on the line (which, for me, seems to always be the case). So I'll be pumping morning and night for the next several months, which can be a pain, but it's so much better (for me) than not pumping.

When I pump I know I am clearing out enough milk that I won't get a plugged duct. I know this because I pumped with Benjamin and Zoë and got mastitis a grand total of zero times. I did not pump with Rachel or Miriam and was constantly warding off mastitis. I was not always successful. Mastitis is miserable.

When I pump my babies get a good, healthy mix of hindmilk and foremilk. I know this because Benjamin and Zoë always had lovely golden-yellow poops. Rachel and Miriam both went through terrible stages of bright green sad poop because they were mostly getting thin, watery, sugary foremilk and not much rich, creamy, thick hindmilk. It made them gassy and miserable and it took me months upon months to cut my supply down enough to satisfy a single baby. We're talking, like, twelve months here...so a long time.

Furthermore, when I pump, I'm able to share my excess (of which there is plenty).

Aside from the time commitment of pumping, it's a win-win-win situation.

Yesterday morning I was dying and decided it was time to pump to comfort because...it was time. I pumped off twenty ounces before I decided to call it quits (though in all honesty I probably could have kept going).

Alexander's birth story

I had my last prenatal appointment yesterday afternoon (and by yesterday I mean Friday, October 13, because I started writing this on Saturday). Of course, I didn't realize at the time that it was going to be my last prenatal appointment so when I was told to strip everything waist down so my doctor could see how far along I was I asked if we could skip that part. I might be at risk for preterm labour but my cervix is super competent, like A++. I'm locked down at a big, fat zero until labour starts and then I'm a zero-to-sixty (or zero-to-ten, if you will) in no time flat kind of girl.

Later in the afternoon I began to feel...icky. Not terrible, just...irritable...

Andrew texted me that he was leaving his office to go pick up my race packet—because I may or may not have signed up for a 5K at BYU (The Sugar Rush, for diabetes research, and, yes, I was planning on walking it)—and then would be on his way home. I was like, "Perfect. Thanks for doing that for me," but by the time he finally made it home I was like, "Yeah, I dunno if I'm even going to need that anymore," because I'd begun having rhythmic-ish contractions.

Still, rhythic-ish contractions is nothing to get one's hopes up about. So I didn't, though I did admit to Andrew that they were "different" from my other contractions because I could feel them coming in waves, wrapping around my body from the back to the front...which should have been a clue. Honestly though, I always have a lot of contractions and these weren't that painful. The weird thing was that nothing would stop them (sitting, eating, walking, "napping"). They were relentless...but a little tricky to decode.

6:07
6:15 (8 minutes)
6:27 (11 minutes)
6:34 (7 minutes)
6:50 (15 minutes)
6:58 (7 minutes)
7:12 (13 minutes)
7:37 (23 minutes!)
7:51 (13 minutes)

I had been having contractions for two hours, but was still wondering if I was truly in labour at all. Because 15, 7, 13, and 23 minutes apart certainly doesn't scream "longer, stronger, closer together," does it?