Charles Vincent.

How can I put into type how much I love my son? I can't even get over the fact that I just wrote the word "son". I had to look at the keyboard to make sure I was spelling it right. One of my best friends, Miss Kristen, picked me up at 8am, and after a quick picture party in her car, we were on our way to Abilene Regional to have a baby. The plan was for Christopher, my mother, and my precious Elie Sue to meet up with us there around 11:00, an hour before my scheduled c-section. When Kristen and I got there, they asked me "are you here for your c-section?". I answered with a yes, even though I was only there for blood work, and my surgery wasn't for another 4 hours. Even when the nurse said "get undressed, we'll get your iv hooked up, and then we'll take you back and have a baby!", I still wasn't in tune with the idea that it might be happening much sooner than I expected. And then I get a funny phone call, from Christopher? Hes at home, and he says "guess who just called me?". I don't know, who. "Labor and delivery". Really, why? "They're ready to do your c-section now". Oh OK. Wait... right now?

Then before I know it, Christopher is in front of me putting on scrubs, I've got an iv in my wrist, and I'm holding a shot of what I can only describe as grape vomit that I'm supposed to drink in order to prevent my lungs from burning if I throw up during the surgery. I managed to get away with not drinking it last time, but this time I put on my big girl panties and went through with it. All eyes were on me as I struggled in silence for 5 minutes following, trying my best to keep it down. And then with a handful of tubes and wires, I was wheeled down to the operating room of doom, where I'd feel every second of my spinal, and nearly pass out from the extreme nausea and lung tightening once it took effect. I don't know what I would have done without Christopher. He was my rock through all of it. Usually they don't let the husband in the room during the spinal, according to a baby story at least, but he was there right in front of me, reminding me to breathe the entire time. He commented multiple times on the ridiculous amount of sweat pouring off of my body, but other than that, he was amazing. Thank you honey, I would have died if you hadn't been there. All of it was worth it though, when they finally announced that his head (covered in hair) was finally out, shortly followed by the final call of "Its a boy!".

They held him up over the blue curtain for me to see, and I cried uncontrollably until he left the room with Christopher and the nurses. I don't remember much after that. I closed my eyes and replayed that very moment in my head over and over again for the next hour until he was finally in my arms. I'm in love. Charles Vincent was born on December 26th, at 10:15 am, 20 inches long, 7 pounds 10 ounces. And hes absolutely one hundred percent, perfect.

This is my nervous face...

Its 7:49am, I'm still in my pajamas, I've got my big new fluffy pillow in arms, and I'm on my way out the door to the hospital! Here we go...

December 25th.

...Christmas turned out to be pretty fantastic.

"And den he leaves..."

I think I've gone over this whole Santa thing with Eleanore at least 9,000 times a day, every day since the day after Thanksgiving. "On Christmas eve we bake cookies and then set them out with a glass of milk (or in our case, eggnog... gross). We go up to our rooms, go to sleep, and while we're sleeping... Santa comes!! He eats all of the cookies, and drinks all of the milk, and if you've been a good little girl, he fills your stocking with toys, and leaves presents for you under the tree. And then before you wake up on Christmas morning, he leaves! So when we wake up, the cookies and milk are all gone, and there are brand new toys waiting for us!".

This morning, as we were on our way into the kitchen to make vegan, gluten free, soy free, everything free Christmas cookies (my own recipe, if you don't mind me tooting my own horn *toot toot*), Eleanore randomly says "we make da cookies, den he leaves...", in her said-by-a-2-year-old-but-sounds-like-an-old-man voice. Finally, my endless explanation of all that is Santa, has payed off.

*insert happy mama face here*

Christmas shopping, complete agony, and run on sentances.

Perhaps 4 hours of Christmas shopping was just a little too much for me to take on...

God bless my labor and delivery nurse, Theresa, who after hours upon hours of rib bruising, breath taking, eye bleeding contractions, called and woke up the on-call doctor enough times to finally get permission to stab me in the hip with a 3 inch long needle, and slowly inject morphine into my breaking body. Not only that, but she wiped away my tears and stood by my side when my entire body was shaking and I could no longer speak. I thought I would never make it out alive. My birthing situation is a little different than the norm. I don't (won't) dialate, thanks to a heart shaped pelvis and a tilted uterus. And because of my planned c-section scheduled for next week, an on-call doctor not familiar with my body, talking to a nurse over the phone in the middle of the night, is of course going to go by the books and give instructions to hydrate the patient and then send her home. Theresa rebelled with a throw down of the clipboard, and I am forever grateful. At 3am as she was wheeling me down to meet Christopher who ran ahead to get the car, at the entrance, I asked her if she drank coffee. She replied with a sort of story about how picky she is, and only likes Starbucks flavored coffees. I'm assuming she means cute mocha's with whip cream, and things like that. So the next time I find myself in labor and delivery, which will be Friday at the absolute latest, she'll have a brand new shiny Starbucks gift card waiting for her in her stocking. Thank god for women with hearts who have been there.

-"Hand painted onglazed porcelain mug - Night Nurse", by houseofharriet, $33.

Sinuses and sucky Santa's.

After forcing myself into a mask of minimal makeup, and sitting through over three hours of military Christmas chaos in an uncomfortable hotel fold out chair, I hurried home and passed out with my face in a small lake of drool on my pillow. 2 hours later I woke up to the unforgiving pounding of the left side of my face, and a burning in my chest that whistled with every breath. Every 5 minutes, for at least 2 hours, I told myself I was going to drive down to the ER and beg for relief, but eventually settled into a not so cozy nest on the couch downstairs where I was able to finally fall asleep. Before the sun came up, I was dressed and driving to the urgency clinic, hoping to be the first one there, and seen right away. Apparently I wasn't the only one. I pulled into the parking lot as they were unlocking the doors, and was astonished by the line of elderly who had beat me to the punch. Well, luckily, I had been there at least 1,000 times before, so didn't have to fill out any paperwork, and was seen 3rd. By the time the cranky nurse that called me back was breaking the scale with my weight, the waiting room was completely full, and I was counting my blessings that I got there when I did. There's nothing worse than wasting hours upon hours in a walk-in clinic lobby full of obnoxious coughing and sniffling. The doctor asked me, "so whens that baby due?". I told her the day after Christmas, and then tugged on her shirt sleeve and looked at her with wide eyes and begged her to make the pain stop. An hour later I left with both an ear and sinus infection. I guess I could have had them when I got there, but until I heard her say it, I had just been fighting a cold. I must have thanked her 10 times for my prescription, even though she said it wasn't the best for my condition. There aren't many options for a gal in her 37th week of pregnancy are there? My biggest fear for the past 5 days, is that I would go into labor and not have the option to hold my dear Charlie and risk him getting sick too. I slammed down the first 2 pills from my z-pack immediately, and maybe its just the placebo effect, but already feel much much much better. When I got home from my early morning doctors office adventures, Christopher woke up Miss Eleanore Sue, we got her all dolled up in her fancy Christmas dress, and headed down to the BX (a military version of a mini mall) to meet Santa Claus, as promised. Too bad it was an awful Santa, that had me working extra hard for the next half hour to get her excited about the jerk that she had just met. Next weekend I think we'll fork over the money and take her to the North Pole, also known as the Abilene Mall, and introduce her to the real Santa. Or at least, a Santa that gets payed to be jolly.

It has to get better sooner or later...

I'm sure a few of you have been taking a peek at my week long blog absence, and were most likely wondering if I was cozied up in the maternity ward with my brand new baby, weren't you? Aw that sounds nice doesn't it...

...Instead of holding my bundle of joy, I've been holding a box of tissues, and soaking my face with hot wash cloths. I've been sick. I didn't know it was possible to pile so much misery on top of so much discomfort. I'm going on day number 4 of the worst sinus pressure that anyone has ever experienced ever. I've been smothering my nostrils in neosporin, and applying peppermint chap stick to my peeled and cracked lips every 5 minutes in hopes of looking like a human being. Its not working. All the Tylenol cold and sinus in the world couldn't make a difference at this point. I'm 37 weeks pregnant, and my body is under attack by some kind of alien super bug. Wish me luck friends, as I'm about to go for round 382 with my face in the vaporizer...

-"A Hard Pill to Swallow", by mandymayl, $7.50.

Eleanore and her best friend have spent the entire night sitting in front of the Christmas tree, playing with shatter proof ornaments and giant electric Snoopy snow globes. I on the other hand, have spent the entire night walking around holding my belly up, waiting for natural labor to kick back in. So for anyone that was maybe wondering... nope, there isn't a Charlie yet. But, we're ready whenever he is.

Baring it all.

Most of you can probably relate with me when I say that I'm self conscious about how I look. Aren't we all in one way or another? Well, I decided yesterday, knowing that today could very well be my last day being pregnant, that it was time to take a picture of myself with no makeup on, showing my naked belly. My big white belly, decorated with battle scars and stretch marks. My bare belly that I would never ever show in public ever under any circumstances, ever. Ever.

So there you have it. Me in all of my Holiday pajamas goodness. All puffed up and ready to pop. In fact, I'm on my way right now to see the doctor about hopefully having a baby today. We're 36 weeks and ready to go! Wish us luck.

Oh geez.

Who do you think was more excited to see Santa?

Tia or Eleanore?

A delicious way to start the morning.

Chocolate chip cookies for breakfast anyone? ...Yes please.

The suck.

OK, so this Monday extra sucks, because Monday suck-day has been cancelled. I know, I know, suck suck suck. If you've been following my blog at all, then you know that Christopher and I have been going into labor nightly, and are just exhausted from fighting this stubborn little baby who is determined to come out so early. Its gotten so routine, that my contractions play a part in my dreams. Last night I dreamt that Melissa, from hobocampcrafts was having her baby, when really, it was me going into labor in my sleep. I had previously stopped taking my anti-labor pills in a fit of "I don't need no stinking pills!", but now am back to taking them around the clock (even though they make my body swell to a shrek like size and make my skin burn as if I've been sitting much too close to an open flame) to ensure that we make it to 36 weeks. So... suck-day is temporarily out of order, as am I. Back to bed rest I go...

-"Mama Birdie built a nest...", by marmar, $55.00.