Roaming With Naomi

Ha. That almost rhymes. Well, not really but it looks like it should.

To end out my maternity leave we've been doing a little traveling. So far Naomi has made it to Lake Jackson, Dallas, and Provo, Utah.

She and I went to Provo on a business trip. I was helping with a leadership symposium at BYU and speaking to some of the women engineers on campus. Yes, I was still on maternity leave but a trip to Utah is not something to turn down lightly so I packed the baby up and grabbed a plane.

Oh, if it were so easy...traveling with an infant is definitely effort. Security lines are definitely not made for single mothers. Somehow I thought I would be able to push the baby, stroller and all, right through the line. After all, they couldn't expect me to carry a baby in one hand and all my stuff in the other. Wrong. The first trip through security was a learning experience. All the normal stuff: shoes off, laptop out of bag, water dumped, jacket off. Add: baby in one hand, car seat onto conveyor belt ("turn that seat over - it has to be upside down"), detach and remove everything from car seat, put down handle one handed, turn car seat over, fold up stroller ("put the stroller on conveyor belt...no...wheels up…no…take it off"), walk through metal detector, gather scattered stuff  repack, unfold stroller, get the starting-to-get-upset baby back in. About the time, they were telling me to take the stroller back off the conveyor belt a TSA person did come help me. Out of kindness as well as desperation I'm sure, as we were holding up the line.

By the next security line, I was much more practiced. Baby was in her wrap so I had two hands and I didn't even mess with the stroller. I let TSA do what they wanted with it.

The baby handled the plane pretty well. Mostly she just slept. Perfect. She woke up for the second flight and  smiled happily at everyone around, winning all of their hearts I'm sure (she won mine). Then she blew out her diaper in three directions so it was a good thing their hearts were won (and that they had five kids).

Mostly, many thanks go out to all of the wonderful people who saw my need and helped. I don't know how I would have done it without the good souls who folded/unfolded my stroller, helped me carry stuff off the plane, pulled my suitcase to the check-in line, and smiled at me. (I decided if anyone wants to steal suitcases in an airport, a lone mother is probably their best bet. However, they might not enjoy the diapers and assorted blankets and baby hats that they end up with).
In Utah, we got to see many important people (although not everyone that I wanted to see). Naomi met her Aunt Bethany, Aunt Rachel, Uncle Cory and cousins Marie, Anne, Samuel, Jocelyn and Calli. Calli and her are only four months apart.(pcture courtesy of Rachel)

She also met Uncle Ryan (or Uncle Lucky as he requested) and Aunt Cheristy and Great grandma and Great Uncle Maylon.

Many thanks to Rachel and Ryan and Cheristy for taking care of my baby while I worked.

Naomi Rose Pulsipher

I'm a mom now. It's weird to say or write but living it feels so natural...or maybe inevitable? It's what I've been working up to since I was like 5 years old and always answered "mom" when somebody asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Does that mean I'm "grown up"? Probably not. But I do have the cutest baby around. See.

Naomi Rose Pulsipher was born on January 20 at 9:34 am and weighed 6 pounds, 13 oz. Her official measure was 19.5 inches long but 3 days later she measured 20.75 inches. I don't really think she grew an inch and a quarter in a couple days but then what do I know about babies?

Birth Story:

I woke up at 4 am on Saturday, January 19th (10 days past my due date) to the discomfort of minor contractions occurring every 15-30 minutes. No more sleep for me.

The contractions continued throughout the day, but didn't seem to be escalating much. At one point, I even got a nap in. I wasn't quite sure what to do with my day since I didn't have any real plans and now my body was thinking about having a baby. So we took a walk to HEB and bought some chocolate (to eat after contractions), we went visiting/home teaching, and I tried to decide whether my mom should drive up to Austin or not. She ended up doing so which turned out to be a good thing.

By 7 pm, the contractions were much more regular (5-10 minutes apart) and getting more intense. At 9:30, we deemed them 5 minutes apart and went to the hospital. They admitted me and hooked me up to the monitors, but my contractions slowed down a bit and when they checked me I was only dilated to 3 cm, the same that I had been at my doctor's appointment on Thursday. All day labor...no progress...kind of depressing. 

I think my nurse thought I was a total wimp. All the other nurses I had in the hospital were great, but this one had some kind of bee in her bonnet. Around midnight, she told me that they were sending me home to sleep since I wasn't making any progress. They gave me a sleeping pill and home I went. We'll see you back on Monday for your induction, she said.

I got home, laid down in bed and within minutes I felt my water break. Time to go back to the hospital. They couldn't turn me away now and my contractions were increasing in intensity anyway. However, it was also the middle of the night and I hadn't slept much the previous two nights and I was on a sleeping pill. I don't really remember this part of the night very well, but I know I wasn't handling the pain very well.

Sometime after we got back to the hospital, the anesthesiologist came in to do the epidural. All I remember from that is the sting of initial needle and the weird sensation of cold fluid going up and down my back. As soon as the epidural kicked in, I slept.

In fact, I slept through the rest of my labor. They woke me up about 8:30 am the next morning and told me I was dilated to 10 cm and that it was almost time to push.

My mom told me they did a really good job of telling me how to push even though I couldn't feel very much.  I just know that it didn't seem to take long at all for her to be born. Seeing her head in the mirror definitely helped. The part that seemed long was when they took my baby away after I saw her briefly (she had a bowel movement before she was born so they needed to do some immediate clean-up). But then they brought her back and it was lovely.

Part of me feels kind of lame for sleeping through my labor, like maybe it was something important that I should have been there for and missed. Mostly, though, I think it was a medical miracle. It allowed me to get some rest so I could have the energy to care for Naomi after she arrived. My body seemed to manage labor perfectly fine without me there - the delivery was uncomplicated and so far recovery has been very smooth.

I am loving my sweet baby girl (those words get stuck together, don't they?) and loving the time I get to spend with her before going back to work.

Vivid Dreams

Pretty much every thing I've read has warned me that during pregnancy, I'll have vivid dreams. This has proven true, but then I always have vivid dreams. The biggest difference I notice is that I'll get halfway through a dream and remember that I'm pregnant and that I shouldn't be doing x,y, or z.

Also, I've had a number of dreams about the baby being born. There's three that I remember particularly well.

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Our baby girl has been born; Stephen and I are brand new parents. We want to go to the temple. We'll only be gone a few hours. The baby will be fine by herself, right?

The temple's not super far away but when I get there, it hits me that it's really not ok to leave a tiny newborn by herself. I drop Stephen off and turn around. Driving home takes me through old-time London-esque street corners with gas lamps and I have to get out to walk through an Indian bazaar. 

When I finally get home, Stephen and some of our friends are hanging out around the kitchen table drinking sparkling grape juice or something, having some sort of party. I'm mystified that he got home before me but start to get involved in the party when I remember why I came home.

What did I do with my baby girl?

Oh yeah. In the drawer. ??!! What was I thinking? I rush into the bedroom and pull her out of a drawer filled with white gauze. She's very unhappy but otherwise ok.

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I'm sitting in some kind of waiting area - lots of blue padded chairs and a receptionist sitting behind a bowl of candy.

My belly starts to jiggle and bounce. Baby's moving. The movement gets more and more forceful and my belly starts to give way, like play-dough. The baby keeps trying to dig her way out of my play-dough belly and I keep folding it back over her. I'm not ready for her to come out; I haven't even had the chance to call my doctor.

She wins; hands, head, and then feet erupt from my belly. She's an extremely large child, probably the size of a one-year-old. I immediately mourn for all the cute clothes folded in my bedroom that she will never be small enough to wear. I call my doctor to report the birth and she seems surprised but not too concerned.

At this point, I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming. I really want it to be a dream; I really want my baby to be able to wear the clothes I have for her. Plus, since when do babies start out the size of a one-year-old?

The dream continues. I take her home and she just keeps growing. Pretty soon, she's the size of a 3-year-old, talking in full sentences and arguing with whatever I tell her. Again, I'm thinking, "Please let this be a dream - this child shouldn't be able to be so bratty so quickly".

By the time I'm halfway through a shopping trip and am pulling  her out from behind a rack of winter coats trying to get her to let go of them, I've kind of given up on the idea that I'm dreaming. This life must be real...it just keeps going...

The shopping trip continues...

Finally, I wake up. A wave of relief floods over me. I knew it was a dream.

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I'm at my semiweekly doctors appointment. The doctor pulls the baby out of my belly (I don't remember how) to check to see if he's healthy (in this dream, the baby is a boy).

He seems quite healthy. I know I haven't carried him full term yet, but I just think, "why bother to put him back in, he seems like he's fine out here."

My doctor must have been sympathetic because I took  him home. My whole family and some friends were there and I was showing off my baby. 

As I was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, I start to feel him slip out of my arms. There's nothing I can do. My brother Ryan's sitting near me and I beg him to catch the baby. I watch him comprehend and then lunge for the baby but it's too late, the baby has hit the edge of the fireplace behind me.

I quickly pick up my child and rush back to the doctor. There's a huge gash across his back and my doctor immediately starts stitching it up. It has to be stitched up before she can put him back inside of me.

36 Weeks

I just take comfort in the fact that I can't possibly be a worse mom in real life than I am in my dreams.

Some Thoughts on Pregnancy

Well, we're hopefully nearing the time when blogging is easy and all I have to do is post pictures of my adorable child (hopefully she's adorable, what does one do if one has an ugly baby?)

In the meantime, there are pros and cons to being pregnant. Everyone expects me to be super ready to have the baby at this point (35 weeks). In a lot of ways, I am. I really want to meet her and hold her and cuddle her and dress her. However, another part of me is very aware that right now I don't have to worry about her being hungry or hot or overstimulated or understimulated or gassy or poopy...I think I'll enjoy the simplicity that life is offering me right now and enjoy the mothering when the time comes.

Meanwhile...a few observations about pregnancy
1) The hardest thing about flying (in an airplane) is reaching your stuff under the seat in front of you.
2) Engineers in Virginia are much more concerned for a pregnant woman's welfare then engineers in Utah. (In Virginia, I was asked if I had emergency contact info easily available on my phone; in Utah, I was given an Ironman mug and told about someone's wife who ran an Ironman while she was pregnant).
3) People often tell you how great you look in a sort of surprised voice. This might be offensive at other times in my life but right now I'm pretty surprised with them so I just really, really appreciate it.
4) But then, people also aren't afraid to tell you how huge you look. Especially Liberians. They keep telling me I'm huge all over and that my baby is going to be huge. Well, I now have official feedback for them. I'm kind of small - so small that my belly measurements really worried my doctor. She ordered an instant (well, there was a 3 1/2 minute delay) ultrasound at my appointment on Monday. The ultrasound showed a normal sized baby - 30th percentile. "You just carry really well," she said. I'm mostly just happy because I got an ultrasound out of it and my baby doesn't look like a skeleton anymore. Plus a really large belly would look particularly large on a 5'2" woman.

5) If a stranger says something to you, even if the only word you catch is "chickens", they're probably referring to your pregnancy.
6) I've heard people say this before, but it's true. When you're pregnant, pretty much anything that happens to your body is "normal". Your mole grows several millimeters and changes color...normal. Your blood pressure is super low one day and super high the next...normal. You regularly wake up with various appendages still fast asleep...very normal. You grow three heads....

35 Weeks: The left picture I think is indicative of how prepared I feel for motherhood.

 Our Christmas Tree - just because I love it :)

Stephen off to rock climb - just because he hasn't been getting nearly enough attention and he's so dang adorable...I mean handsome.

Paper Mulberrys vs. the Saw

The exceptional service of soldiers and mothers give us the ability to make our lives what we choose. The smaller acts of service shape what we ultimately become.

Yesterday, Alisha and I spent the morning with some of her work friends cutting down paper mulberry trees in Bull Creek Park. One thing we love about Austin is the easy access to nature. Just a short drive from our apartment are dozens of trails, parks, waterfalls, etc. It's a blessing to have easy access to such beautiful places. 

Unfortunately, some unwise actions of people can endanger that beauty. One such action was the planting of paper mulberry's in what 's become one of the city parks. The trees grew well there and threatened to crowd out the native plants. So, Alisha and I got to take part in correcting the balance. Luckily, it turned out to be lots of fun.

We worked in connection with a city organization that funds care for the parks (I don't know what it's called). A few men with that organization ran the show, providing tools and instructions. George was the boss, teaching us how to correctly cut branches without breaking the tools (very useful tips). John was the man with the chainsaw. He cut down the trees while we cut them up. Then there were all of us - probably about a dozen guys and one girl from Alisha's work, Alisha, and me. We had a good time and earned a few scratches from our efforts.

It felt good to be out in the sun, working. I sweat a bit. The Texas heat is beginning. My favorite part was watching for turtles in the stream nearby during our breaks. I've always love the water and the animals in it. I'm getting in the habit of looking for turtles whenever I'm near water now. I didn't realize there were so many here in Austin. 

After about 3 hours, we started wrapping up the work. We were supposed to make it look as if we hadn't been there, leaving the smaller branches and leaves lying around to decompose. Problem was, we cut down so many trees, it looked more like a hurricane had blown through. It was kind of amazing to realize how many trees we'd cut down.

Sorry there aren't pictures, yet. Hopefully we'll be getting some soon.

And for the curious, some of my thoughts on what I'd call "Latter-day Saint environmentalism":

In a revelation to Joseph Smith in 1834 (the subject was how the Church would care for the poor; relevant to my blog, but I won't address that today) Jesus Christ taught that He "stretched out the heavens, and built the earth, my very handiwork; and all things therein are mine." He gives men blessings from the earth - food, homes, wealth - but those blessings are a stewardship, something we watch over for a time while the true owner is away. This is one of the reasons service is so important to Latter-day Saints: our time and money come from the Lord. Giving a small bit to others is the least we can do. D&C 104:11-18.

The Lord teaches that the earth will provide for everyone, but it must be done in His own way. He teaches that those who take of the abundance of the earth without sharing with the poor will be punished. While the message isn't obviously about taking care of the environment, I think the principles lead to that conclusion. If this earth isn't ours, we should probably be taking good care of it.

Another scripture, which is the LDS health code (called the Word of Wisdom), teaches that "all things which come of the earth...are made for the benefit and the use of man." But he cautions us that they are "to be used, with judgment, not to excess, niether by extrotion." D&C 59:18, 20

Mothers

Yesterday at church a friend of mine, Michael, asked if I would join him to give a blessing to a member of the ward in the hospital. James 5:14. The woman, we'll call her Anne, and her mother, who we'll call Joy, don't come to church often, so we didn't know them. When we arrived we spent some time getting to know them.

Joy and Anne lived here in Austin. A few years ago, Anne moved down to San Marcos to attend school. While there she took care of her grandmother (Joy's mother). A little later, Anne was diagnosed with Addison's disease, which affects hormone levels, making it difficult to do such simple tasks as walk. Since then, Joy has spent a great deal of time in San Marcos, taking care of both her mother and her daughter.

When we finished with the blessing, Joy came with us to the door. Michael said, "Happy Mother's Day, though its probably not the best Mother's Day." Joy responded, "When I'm with my mother, she wants me to hold her close. She tells me she's grateful that I can be so close to her. And now I can be here with my daughter. It's a good Mother's Day.”

I think of the mothers in my own life. My mom’s mom: when she married my grandfather he didn’t go to church, though he’d been raised Mormon. To my understanding, she wasn’t much of a churchgoer, either. As they started having kids, she felt that they needed some religion in their lives. So she began taking them to different churches. None of them felt quite right. So one day she told my grandpa, “Alvin, you’re Mormon, why don’t we go to your church?” This time, the church seemed right and it wasn’t long before she was baptized, bringing her husband back to Christ as well as shaping the lives of her (now) dozens of descendants.

My Grandma Pulsipher had her hands full, raising her first couple kids alone while my Grandpa flew missions in Korea.

My own mother, who didn’t let sleep get in her way. She raised 7 children while working 12 hours night shifts as a nurse.

My wife who, not a mother, yet, who looks at the little kids in sacrament, grabs my arm and whispers to me, “Stephen, look at all the babies!”

I know this is a day late, but I want the mothers in my life to know I love them. There are a lot of women out there who, married or single, working or stay-at-home, do simply incredible things. It would be impossible to overstate the effect these women have in our lives. Thank you and Happy (belated) Mother’s Day!

The Greatest Gift

I'm copying this from a service blog I started writing a couple weeks ago.

Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. John 15:13

For almost two weeks now I've been reflecting on the sacrifice of a friend of mine, Andrew Britton-Mihalo, a Green Beret killed in Afghanistan on April 25. I don't have time to write much, but this blog would be devoid of meaning if I didn't post a tribute to someone who gave the ultimate sacrifice.

Scrolling through a tribute to Andrew on Facebook, I thought about my memories with him. I remember being jealous of him because all the girls seemed to like him. I remember his smile when he was with friends. I remember how serious he would get when we were about to do something challenging - spelunking, kayaking, rock climbing, wrestling. I remember the 5 months I spent on the wrestling team, when Andrew was there to back me up. When the seniors picked on me because I was the new guy (and probably the weakest on the team) Andrew was there. That year - 2002-2003 - was probably the year Andrew and I were the closest. I remember hanging out at his house, playing Star Wars Monopoly. Watching him jump off roofs. Calling me Steve-o, which no one else could pull off. I remember him struggling in the water on swim team as much as I had struggled on the wrestling mat.

I think as long as I'd known him he wanted to join the Army. So that's what he did. Why? For one, that's what he was good at. He was physical, aggressive, and driven. But most of all, as I've heard again and again since he died, he stood up for those he loved. He was a true friend, a dedicated brother, uncle, son.

I only saw him once, I think, after we graduated from high school. It was a couple years ago, right before my wedding. There was pain in his eyes. I don't know much, but I know he'd gone through some tough times. But as we chatted, I knew the goodness in his heart, the love he has for those close to him, was still there.

That's why he fought. Andrew and I were different in so many ways. But that's one think I'd like to think we share - a love for who and what is most important. He is an inspiration. I hope to live up to his memory. When I see him on the other side, I want to tell him his sacrifice was worth it, that I used the life he protected to make the world a better place.