Lily's Birth Story

I was so surprised...Childbirth was really not that bad. (Though maybe it only seems that way since I'm writing this two weeks later...)

I wanted to write out Lily's birth story for myself more than anyone else, since I tend to have a terrible memory, but I figured this way anyone else who's curious can feel like they were there! Because you were all wishing you could've been, right? 

Anyway, Lily's story starts with a reminder that I was diagnosed with preeclampsia at 24 weeks pregnant, which is pretty early on--leaving 16 weeks of worrying about blood pressure, if you go the full 40. This prompted my doctors to decide it would be best to induce me at 39 weeks...or, actually, at 37, I found out when I was 35 weeks and 4 days pregnant...So, all of a sudden, Russ and I found out we would be having a baby in a week, instead of three.

Fast forward to July 2, the date I was to be induced. My mom and Lance had flown up and arrived late the night before, and we were all anxious for a call from the hospital that would tell us it was time to come in. The day ticked by and we were eventually told it was too busy and to possibly expect a call late that night or the next morning. 

Well, noon, July 3, came and went and we were told, again, it was too busy and possibly to expect a call late that night. And, again, found out it wouldn't be that night. Finally, the call nurse asked us to come in the next morning, July 4.

7 am, July 4, I got strapped to the monitors, and we began the wait for the doctor to start my meds...I was dilated to 2 cm and 50% effaced. Finally, at about 12:30, he broke free from the ER and started me on Cervidil.

My contractions started strong and close together after about an hour, and I spent 14 hours with them, during which time Mom and Lance came and went a few times, Russ and I watched a lot of Drunk History (thank you, History Channel), and I started having back labor near the end of my 14ish hours of Cervidil. 

I was getting anxious for my epidural, and was extremely upset when the nurse checked me out and found I was still only at 3-4 cm, and not far enough along for the meds. So she started me on some sort of IV narcotic (I didn't really care to remember the name...), which was so much nicer, but which made me feel about as drunk and sleepy as the historians we'd been watching all night. Russ had fun walking my IV stand to the bathroom for me while I wobbled all around and tried to outrun him. 

Finally, sometime around 3 am, Dr. Cohen came back to take out the Cervidil and decided to break my water right then and there. 

The contractions became extremely painful from there, and very close together--damn back labor. I was shaking from the hormones, pretty well crying and moaning (and, yes, I was crying, "owie," Russell), and begging for the anesthesiologist to bring me my epidural. 

The hormones running through me had me shaking and puking, when he finally arrived to hook me up. I was very upset to be forced to sit up while he poked around at my back trying to get the right spot--and Russ says he was getting pretty angry--but, obviously, I'd rather he take his time and not further hurt me. haha 

Life was great after the epidural, and I was exhausted--oddly enough, it's hard to sleep when you're in labor. But I didn't have time to sleep any more--after rolling to my side to flip Lily over (sunny-side-up baby was giving me back labor, darn it), I was fully dilated and almost ready to start pushing. 

I pushed for somewhere between half an hour and an hour, and out came Lily! She was born at 6:48 am on July 5th, weighing 6 pounds, and measuring 19.5 inches. 

She was absolutely perfect, and I was exhausted. Russ and I cried when she let out her first cry, and we cried again when they walked us to the maternity room, playing a lullaby to let the whole hospital know she'd been born. 

And, that, my friends, is the story of Lillian's first moments on the outside. 

Deployment and Other Things

I was so surprised...I've been neglecting my blogs!

I know, I know. You guys are all going insane wondering what's happening in my life, and why I haven't posted on this blog in....Damn, have I really not posted since January? You are severely lacking an update here! (Because I know you all get your information about my life--vital to your health--exclusively from this blog. How could I let your health deteriorate like that?)

But enough of the sarcasm and weird talk. (HA! Like I'm done with that.) Do you wanna know the real reason I haven't posted much lately? 

There he is (right), looking all handsome and soldier-y.

My husband is deployed. 

What? You're not surprised by this? You follow my Facebook and are so annoyed with hearing about my deployed husband? Too bad, sucker! You kept reading! 

Now, I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea here through this post--I've decided I want to be honest about deployment and what it does to you me. Just hear me out before you go assuming anything, and calling me post haste. (Does anyone say that anymore?)

So, listen, deployment is hard. Your "other half" is gone--the person you've decided to spend the rest of your life with is now just...not...spending their life with you for a while. And it sucks.

My husband is not the be-all, end-all for me. I love him, and, yes, I did move across the country and spend an entire winter shoveling a lot of fucking (pardon my French, but it's true) snow by myself to be with him. And I have sort of postponed my life plans to go where he needs to go. But I don't just stop existing when he leaves. 

I think that gets hard for some people. Their spouses leave and they become nothing. 

Though I was kind of nothing for a while, too, I suppose. I had quit a job that was slowly turning me into a cynical, exhausted, angry shell. And it was winter. In Winterfell Northern New York. There's not much you can do with that, honestly. And it was a hard time for me, for those reasons. 

And so, for that reason, I didn't really want to blog. I didn't want to share how I was feeling, because I didn't want to worry people. Sometimes you kind of are craving for people to notice you and pity you a little, and sometimes you just kind of want to suffer in silence and wait for it to be over, ya know?

I'm generally of the second variety, and so I've been pretty much keeping to myself. Don't actually worry, everyone--I have some really amazing friends up here that are going through the same thing and have helped me tremendously. Plus, I have this pretty awesome husband who makes going through a deployment worth all of it. 

Anyway, I didn't stay nothing for very long.  I was am also in this weird spot in my life where I'm questioning everything I've worked toward thus far. So there was a little existential crisis happening right in the middle of winter, while my husband was deployed, and I was out of work and bored and lonely. 

But I plugged through it. You just kind of have to do that with deployment. What option do you have? Trust me, I'm sure many of us would love to be able to just march over to Afghanistan and fly our husbands back home with us, but, oddly enough, the army doesn't let you do that. 

You  find the things that make you happy despite the separation. The way he gets his hair cut (when Skype isn't too fuzzy). The way his voice hits you right in the heart. The way he stares at you for a minute and tells you he's, "just looking at ya." The way you still can joke and laugh and gossip and forget for a few minutes that he's thousands of miles and several months away from you. The way you can find resolutions to arguments (because everyone has arguments) even when you're not face-to-face or even speaking out loud. 

Total Power Couple.

And, I think, when you remember that you're committing your life to working side-by-side through whatever, you realize that you've actually grown stronger and closer than you ever could have without it. So I'm not saying I've loved this deployment (hell no!), or that I want to go through any more, but I do love the way it's solidified our relationship and our marriage.

Now, I'm sure some of you are rolling your eyes, or assuming I mean you can't have a strong marriage without a deployment, but I only speak for myself (and for my husband on this one). I mean, we joked about it before, but we really are a "Power Couple." :]

Besides all that nonsense, I also have been super busy lately with a brand new job! Everyone, I work at a winery. How cool is that? And, not only do they love me in the Tasting Room (which is pretty much exactly what you'd expect from a winery's "tasting room"), but they've brought me into Wholesale, as well--where I work with liquor stores, restaurants, and all the other places we distribute our wines. Basically, I'm a saleswoman for our wines. And I love it. I mean, how can you not love selling wine? It's pretty awesome.

AND I've been running. Who would imagine me running? No one? GOOD, because neither did I! EVER. And yet, I have to admit...I kinda sorta like it. I even ran a 5K with my wife bff! We may be slower than...well, a herd of turtles (DeWitts.....), but we've been working hard and getting some awesome results! 

So that's where I've been since you last saw me (on my blog). I'm still having awesome wine nights with my awesome friends at The W(h)ining Army Wives, though I haven't posted there in a while, either. (Busyness, I tell ya.) 

And, other than that, I'm just waiting for my soldier to come home. Then I can stop hating Skype and Facebook Chat and texting and be social again. Or, more likely, not. But I'll be more inclined to it, at least! 

So, I'm sorry, my friends, for being so distant, but life happens, and I swear, mine is looking more and more like it's back on track. Just in a different direction than I'd planned. 

Sorry, also, that this post is so long and circular, and I think I didn't even make the point I originally set out to make...Nor do I feel like I explained myself very well regarding deployment feelings, but....Bear with me for a little bit. This'll have to do for now. Maybe when he's home I'll be able to express myself better! 

Until next time, stay surprised, my friends! 

A Surprising Journey

I was so surprised...I'm going for a career change!

So, some of you have seen my new blog around--The W(h)ining Army Wives--and are probably wondering what's up with it. You're thinking, "Sure, so Brandi and her army wife friends are having wine nights, big deal." But then you're also wondering, "Why did she put so much work into make that blog look nice, and filming their meeting, and writing up a whole evaluation on the wine?" You're not wondering that? Well, go check out the blog, and then you will!

Well, my curious friend, I did all that work (and, boy, is going through two hours of wine meeting film a lot more work than you'd think!) because I actually am attempting a career in wine.

"A career in wine?" you're shouting. I just ask you to stop shouting at me. It's very rude.

But yes, over Thanksgiving with my in-laws, I expressed to them my disillusionment with the job I had, and how I was unsure that I really wanted to be a teacher anymore, and all that fun, quarter-life crisis stuff. They told me they'd figured out a new job for me: a sommelier! And I laughed, (and what is that?), and we joked that it would be funny to make a switch from teaching to being a wine expert.

And then it hit me: that really did sound like a cool job. Something I might like.

I've always liked wine, and been interested in learning more about it. And how cool would it be to be an expert in a field? Let alone in wine.

So we researched, and I discussed it with my husband and mom, and in-laws, and myself, and I thought, "Why not?" If I can't take risks in my 20s, while my husband has a stable, well-paying job, we have a roof over our heads, no children to support, and my paycheck is all going toward savings anyway, when can I? What if this is a career I would thrive in? What if I could go to work every day, enjoying what I do?

Don't get me wrong--I love children, and I love working with children. If you know me, you know I do. But the things that go into working with children--all the considerations and plans and protocols--it all detracts for the actual interaction with children. The part I like. Besides, I've got plenty of years left to return to teaching if I miss it--or at least to teach my own children (and maybe my friends' children) some things about the world, and play around.

Maybe I need a change. And maybe this is exactly what I've never known I've wanted to do.

Regardless, I'm making the change, and I'm starting small. I'm taking a chance with something different, and hoping I can make it work.

And it's invigorating. I'm very excited about it. And I hope you'll support me along the way, and watch my progress--because something cool could end up coming my way, and I want you all to be my witnesses.

If you're interested in following along, my little "wine club" is meeting weekly (weather and life permitting, of course), and will be posting here: The W(h)ining Army Wives.

I really hope you enjoy watching this journey, and learning some things about wine as I do the same.

I guess life is just full of surprises--and I'm riding this one out. Stay surprised, my friends!

Just a Sucker With No Self-Esteem

I was so surprised...to realize how much I've changed.

Okay, this may turn into a boring or self-centered, philosophical post, so if you're not into that, I recommend you go here instead. That'll be more interesting and insightful. haha

Anyway, the other day I was walking down the hallway at work and I realized, as I walked past a parent, that, while I still employ a brisk, hair-blowing walk (can't break that habit, sadly), I was holding my head so high I might have looked like I was snubbing them.

Now, this may not seem like that big a deal--wow, so you hold your head high; that means nothing!--well, my friend, this time the physical stereotype totally applies to me.

I specifically remember--because, annoyingly, I'm a very active thinker--walking from class to class in high school (and junior high, and elementary school), staring at the ground. And sometimes I would tell myself (seriously), "I just have to watch where I'm going. These halls are so crowded, gotta watch my stepping. It doesn't mean I'm self-conscious. I'm totally not."

But I totally was. And I knew it. I mean, if you have to pep-talk yourself and justify walking with your head down, I think you already know how (un)confident you are.

But I went through life for so long like this, pretending, even to myself when I could swing it, that I didn't have a confidence problem. "Fake it 'til you make it," they say. And I did my best to do so. Though, at the time I never thought I'd gain confidence. I honestly thought that was my normal, and that I'd never live life as one of those self-confident girls.

And then, college happened. And I started out just as self-conscience and scared as always, but somewhere along the way, my faking became superfluous. No one cared in college what I was doing or wearing--whether I was humming to myself as I walked, or if I wore a sweatshirt to class again today, or if I was too lazy to wake up early enough to shower before class. And as I realized that no one else cared, I began to slowly realize that I didn't really care, either.

I was in a sorority that made me meet new people--so many new people--and take on offices and lead people. People had confidence in me, and in my abilities. I had to talk to people, and in front of people, and for people. I couldn't be shy and insecure. There was no room for it.

I made new friends who loved me for me, and didn't try to keep me under their thumbs or laugh at me for things I said or make me feel useless--in fact, they sought out my attention and help and company--and I realized I had something useful inside me.

Somewhere along the way, the confidence that I faked--and I had begun to hold my head up as I walked, projecting the image of confidence wherever I went, hoping it would hold true--at some point, that confidence was real.

And I never even noticed.

How awesome, though, is marriage for your confidence, too? Though I know, respectively, my confidence improved the most while I was in college, it's continued to grow into a nearly-unmanageable beast now that I'm married. There's nothing quite like someone thinking you are the world--and expressing it often--for a little ego booster. When there's someone constantly telling you you're beautiful and smart and wonderful, and when your opinion of this person is pretty well equal to the one he has of you, it's hard not to believe it.

I always was told I was "cute," and just maybe "pretty," but--not including my mother and other family members who definitely don't count toward ego-boosting--beautiful was never something I thought I could be. God forbid anyone say I was sexy. I would've laughed right in their faces! That one is still a little hard for me, but, like I said, having this wonderful person building you up constantly has a way of wearing you down into confidence. Plus, you've got a ring on your finger, so who do you need to impress? Someone awesome loves you, so who cares what everyone else thinks?

Anyway, the moral of the story is, it's taken me 24 years (minus, of course, those lovely years of childhood where you just really don't care and have no idea what it means to be insecure), but I finally have found some self-esteem. And damn, does it feel good.

Love Conquers.

I was so surprised...this first week of deployment has been hard. (Yeah, I know. Read on, skeptical friend.)

Okay, so for those of you who are not aware of this already, my wonderful husband has been deployed.

The last photo of us together for a while.

It's only been about a week since he left, but it's been rough, nonetheless. You can think, "But he's only been gone a week. You've done worse than that," and you'd be right. I keep telling myself that, too. 

But it's different this time. There's a knowledge in the back of your mind that he's going to be gone for nearly a year. This person who you've lived with and bet your whole life on is leaving you behind to live your life as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed.

He's not going on vacation. Or to the field. He's going into a war zone. There will always be worry on my mind. No matter how much I ignore it and tell myself he'll be fine, and that he won't be in any action. It doesn't matter. It's terrifying.

I sit on the couch and watch tv, just like I've done with Russell hundreds of times. And many of those times, we completely ignored each other for hours on end. But it's different. That warmth is gone. The companionship is gone.

It's the thought that he won't be here to hold me when I cry or to clean the dishes when I come home tired from work or to listen to me vent about this or that. But these are selfish things.

Sure, he has internet, and I can Skype him hopefully most days or weeks and keep in touch that way, but it feels disconnected. The internet is unreliable, the schedules are unreliable, and the conversations are public. It's hard to connect that way. And one should never undervalue the strength that holding a hand or touching a shoulder can have in communication. 

But enough moping and self-pity. 

I really have been handling it all pretty well so far, despite the doom and gloom of this post so far. I do well, I think, with living alone. And I know how to bring myself around, how to entertain myself and keep a home. So I'm not really worried about myself.

Plus, I have something no one else has: Russell. And he, and everything we've built and will build together, is worth so much more than nine months apart. I can get through anything knowing we've got our whole life ahead of us and I will have all the cuddles and kisses and talks and (within reason) babies I want for the rest of my life.

It's all worth it in the end, I know. But I will not lie, deployment already sucks. However, I am one week closer to holding my husband in my arms again, and that's all I've gotta remember to get myself through it. Boy, do I love this man.