Blood Drawn

June Anne had to have blood drawn yesterday to recheck her hemoglobin levels. (They were slightly low at her one-year check-up.) As suspected, her hemoglobin levels are fine. I'm thankful that Dr. Miller wanted to make sure before diagnosing her and treating her for a condition that she really doesn't have. I'm NOT thankful, however, for what we had to go through yesterday to get those results!

When Dr. Miller said we needed to go to a lab to have her follow-up blood work done, he said that they would more-than-likely just prick her finger to take her blood. Not the case. They informed me that she would have to have two vials of blood taken! Two! Why?! They proceeded to pull out a rather large needle (at least it seemed large for my baby!) and stick my screaming child in the arm. The nurse moved the needle around for what seemed like 5 minutes before pulling the needle out - no blood drawn, mind you - and informing me that she couldn't find the vein. Ummmm, I'm sorry, what??? She then said she would have to stick her in the foot! Perhaps she's never changed a squirming baby and doesn't know the strength of their tiny legs when they are protesting something they don't want to do! At any rate, foot it was. June Anne looked up pitifully at me and screamed. Not the usually "getting a shot really stinks, Mommy" scream. This was more of a "I can't believe you are letting this happen, Mommy. You are supposed to protect me" scream. In that moment, it was more than I could handle. Hormones? Maybe. Or maybe it was the realization that there will be so many moments in the next 18 years when she has no idea that what I am doing may hurt or seem unfair, but will always be in her best interest that brought tears streaming down my face. The nurse followed suite. She was able to get one vial, and I said that would have to do. Period. We are done here. And she agreed. I think the likes of me and June Anne was more than she had planned for a Friday!

Here's my sweet girl with her wounds bandaged. She usually only has a paci at nap time and bedtime, but I thought she deserved it after such an ordeal!

One Year Check-up and Pics

We went for June Anne's one year check-up two weeks ago. It was TERRIBLE!!! She's such a smartie and has been to the doctor's office so often over the past year for her ears that immediately when the nurse comes into the waiting room and says, "June Anne" she bursts into tears. A normally happy, social butterfly, there is no way you can convince me that the tears are from stranger-danger. She ONLY does it at the doctor's office. Terrible. Needless to say, it made for one sad mama. Because not only does she detest going to the doctor, she also had to have 3 shots and will have 3 more at her 15 month check-up. Yuck. As far as her stats, she was 28 1/2 inches long (25th percentile) and 20 lbs and 11 oz (40th percentile). This was a little surprising to me because she has always been in the opposite percentages - 40th for height and 25th for weight. I'm not sure why I'm surprised - the child can eat! She is very serious about her food! Dr. Miller was very happy with where she falls on the charts, and he said that I am doing a great job (which is always nice for a mama to hear! Love him!). The only thing that he was somewhat concerned with was her hemoglobin levels. She had been sick for a couple of days when we went, so he said that the slightly low levels could be due to her cold. We go back tomorrow to have another blood sample taken to check her hemoglobin again to determine whether or not she is slightly anemic. We shall see! I can't complain. Other than the hemoglobin levels, I have a perfectly healthly, happy one-year old! I feel incredibly blessed.

A couple of days before her appointment, we had her one-year pictures taken by our amazing photographer, Tiffany Rosier (www.sweetdreamsandjellybeans.com). I had to post a few of my favorites from the shoot! June Anne was fussy, fussy on this particular morning (I think she was coming down with the cold that she had when we visited the doctor's office a few days later....). So, I was amazed that Tiffany was able to get so many awesome shots. Just speaks to her abilities!

Check out this little monkey. So in love with this child. Love her curious little personality. Love that she is somewhat of a wild child! She's so fun!

"The Last Time"

A friend of mine shared this with me today, and I had to share it with y'all. It's one of those articles that left me with tears streaming down my face and a lump in my throat. It's such a wonderful reminder for anyone with children. These moments go by way too fast! Take them in and cherish every sweet, chaotic moment, my friends.

The Last Time

Devon Corneal

Tonight, Little Dude asked for a snuggle before bed. It was well past his bedtime and I was tired, cranky and had a stack of laundry to fold, a memo to write and a blog post to finish. I told him I'd snuggle for two minutes.

He crawled under his blanket, squirmed until he was comfortable and pushed me to the edge of the mattress. He offered me his favorite blankie to keep me warm. I put my arm around him and he was sound asleep before I had finished cataloguing the list of things I had to do before I could crawl into my own bed. I considered making a stealthy escape but stopped when he threw his arm around my neck while mumbling unintelligibly. A sleeping 4-year old's arm has as much strength as a soggy piece of toast, but I didn't move. Despite my earlier desire to leave, I stayed and pulled him toward me.

I had one of those rare blissful parenting moments when everything else fades away and you appreciate the simple physical presence of your child. I marveled at the amount of heat a small boy produces when he sleeps and the ease with which he leaves the world behind. I smelled his hair. The laundry could wait.

It hit me in the darkness of his cluttered room that these days are numbered. Some night in the future, Little Dude will ask me to snuggle with him before he falls asleep, and I will have no idea that it will be the last time. I won't know to pay attention or to try to commit every minute to memory. Days or weeks or months later, I will try to recall when that last snuggle happened. I won't be able to. I know I will ache to slide next to him on his narrow bed, listen to him breathe and wait for the moment when he surrenders to his dreams. All of the irritations, the inconveniences and the wishing for time alone will seem insignificant in comparison to the warmth and peace of his nighttime routine. I will regret the times I hurried through bedtime and left his room even though he asked me to stay "Just one more minute, Mommy."

It will be too late.

I just now understand that in anticipating my son's "firsts," I've forgotten to appreciate what he's left behind. The firsts are monumental, celebrated and captured on film. I reveled in Little Dude's first steps, jotted down his first words and am prepared to save lost teeth. There isn't a first I haven't recorded in some way. I've paid less attention to his "lasts." I've ignored the finality that comes with moving from one stage to another.

I don't remember the last day that Little Dude's eyes were blue before they turned green. I can't recall the last time his hair was baby soft and curly, or the last time he crawled or took a real nap. I can't pinpoint the last time we shared the peaceful quiet of a 3 a.m. feeding, or he squealed with joy to be riding his wooden rocking horse. There will be a hundred last times to come. And I won't know they've passed until there is no hope of recapturing them. I know this because I don't remember the last day he used a pacifier or waited for us to get him from his bed rather than clomping into our bedroom at some ungodly pre-dawn hour exuberant and ready to face the day as we struggle to open our eyes. I've forgotten when he stopped liking sweet potatoes or saying "Pick mine up!"

Not that there aren't stages I'm happy are gone. I don't miss teething, two-hour feedings, biting or needing to be carried everywhere. I'm neither Pollyanna nor a masochist. Babies are darling; I'm also glad I don't have one anymore. Raising children isn't all warm snuggles and charming memories. Parenting can be a long, hard slog.

But for today I'm focusing on the last times still to come, even though I won't know that they're the last chapters until long after they've gone. The last snuggle. The last time Little Dude asks me to bring him chocolate milk. The last time we play fire trucks. The last time he falls down and comes crying to me with his entire body shaking, tears streaming down his face, believing with childish certainty that a kiss from me will make his skinned knee better. The last time he asks to marry me. The last time he believes in my omniscience. The last time we color together at the kitchen table. I'm not naïve enough to believe that this moment of reflection will stop me from becoming irritated, impatient, frustrated, bored or upset tomorrow when my son whines, spills spaghetti sauce on the rug or throws a fit because I won't let him stay up late. Maybe, though, I'll temper my response if I can remember how fleeting this all is. That for every moment I've prayed would end, there is something I miss.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/devon-corneal/parenting-lasts_b_1874086.html

Poor Baby #2....

I always said I would do for Baby #2 (and #3, #4....however many Jason and I decide to have) exactly what I did for #1. Well, that just doesn't seem to be happening now does it?! Oh wait, you didn't even know I'm having a baby? Because I haven't posted ANYTHING about being pregnant and I'm, oh, 17 weeks tomorrow?! Sigh....exactly my point. But, let's face it, life with a 13 month old is chaotic to say the least. And I've been working quite a lot lately trying to make some things "go away!" (Morgan, that was meant to give you a chuckle since you are probably the only one that can relate to that quote.)

 

At any rate, we are expecting #2!!! June Anne is going to be a big sister late February/early March! My official due date is March 2nd! We couldn't be more excited. We feel so incredibly blessed. We were aiming for our first two to be between 18 month to 24 months apart. June Anne's due date was September 3rd; Baby #2's due date is March 2 - you can do the math. Exactly 18 months. Talk about perfect timing! Isn't God funny like that? "A man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps." I definitely don't think the timing was an accident.

This pregnancy is so much different than with June Anne. With June Anne, I was sick for much longer than I was with this baby (thankfully!). I was only nauseous for about 3 weeks with this baby. I can't decide if that's really it - that I have actually been less nauseous - or if I just didn't have the luxury to think about how terrible I was feeling! I'm much more tired with this baby - even still at 17 weeks - than I was with June Anne. Although, I'm not convinced that this is as much a symptom of pregnancy as it is of just the shear business of life right now. I want junk food - ALL THE TIME, whereas I wanted fruit with June Anne. I'm also carrying much higher with this pregnancy - boy anyone? We will find out on October 12th! And I will certainly let you know! We will be happy either way. It would be fun to have a sister close in age for June Anne; but, we would also like a boy at some point, so why not now?

At our 8 week appointment, the baby was measuring slightly smaller than based on my original due date of February 26th, so they pushed by due date back a week to March 3rd, which is actually what I thought it should be all along. Here is a picture of our little peanut! The heartbeat was 153 at the first ultrasound. Since then, it has been 170 at our 12 week appointment and back down to 160 at our 16 week appointment. So different than June Anne, whose heart rate was consistently high. Guess they start out early being very different and their own little person! I can't wait to meet this sweet baby and see it's little personality!

Officially Walking!!!

June Anne has officially decided she would rather walk that crawl. She took a major turn last weekend. I completely attribute it to peer pressure at school as all of the babies in her new big girl class are walking. At any rate, she's got it down! Not only does she prefer walking to crawling, she now prefers walking to being carried! Makes for very slow trips to the car, and sometimes a sad mama, but I'm so proud of her. It's so fun to watch her develop!