The First Two Weeks

The first two weeks of having a newborn are like a marathon. Your arms and legs hurt, you are ridiculously tired afterward, and you really need a shower.

Right before "push time". I still look like this, just less comfy.

Daniel and I initially slept in shifts for those first two nights, which was about as successful as you would think. We just ended up being tired at different times, never seeing each other. It really sucked if you were the person who got up at five in the morning and didn't go to sleep until five the next morning when your shift was up. I actually almost fell asleep feeding the baby. That was when I knew it was time to change the routine. Now we can sleep a lot better, even if I do wake up every five seconds to check if he's breathing.

When William was sent back to the hospital for jaundice and his temperature problems, I was so upset, but it turned out to really help. Daniel and I learned how to sleep while the baby does and baby William learned how to sleep somewhere other than in our arms.

His favorite place. Makes me happy. And tired.

 Then came the trouble with the formula. I was unable to breastfeed mainly because he was so tiny at birth and I wasn't making enough milk to feed him. I am not ashamed of having to feed William formula. He is chunking up quite nicely. But I digress. In the beginning, he spit up everything we gave him. It was similar to something from "The Exorcist" at times. Now we are feeding him soy formula, which has helped, except now his burps are pretty terrible smelling. I guess I better get used to gross bodily functions, being the mother of a boy.

So far, I love being a mom. I am exhausted, but every time I see his little face (no matter how grumpy he looks), it makes my heart explode into little bits of glitter. Yes, glitter. And confetti. And the sugary sprinkles that no one really likes but adds them to cupcakes anyways. Seeing him with his dad makes the explosion happen as well. This year, I am going to try and take a picture of him every day or every week, if that's too hard to do. I want his first year to be the best, especially since he has let us survive this first two weeks in his presence.

Meeting for the first time since birth.

I'll just have to be sure he knows that we are eternally grateful.

William's Birth Story

What are you looking at?

This story begins at 3:30 in the morning on December 13th, 2012. Daniel and I were keeping our usual, night owl sleep schedule and playing, of all things, Mario Party on our "new" Nintendo 64, I know, we are children. It was a particularly rousing game, that I completely would have won had Daniel not received all the bonus stars (you call this trivial, I call it an unfortunate game-changer). I would like to think that I laughed myself into labor, because within the next hour or so, I began to have what I would consider actual contractions. Kind of uncomfortable, but nothing that I couldn't handle.

Night Number One: I'm pretty restless, between the dull achiness that has crept into my back and hips and trying to time the waves of pain. I only get about five hours of sleep. I wake up at ten in the morning and text my mom to ask her opinion. I figure she would know what to do, considering she's done this twice and my experiences are pretty much limited to watching A Baby Story and reading books on childbirth (neither of which offer a clear answer on what labor is, may I add). She tells me to take a shower, eat something, and attempt to time them. I do all of this. The shower was incredibly painful, since the contractions wouldn't ease up, I didn't have much of an appetite, and I still couldn't get a clear pattern with timing. At three in the afternoon, I went to my ultrasound appointment.

At my appointment, I learn that I have gone from 1 centimeter to 3.5 in less than a week. For those of you who haven't had babies, this is pretty good news. Even the OB was surprised, since he was the one who checked me just six days prior. I felt pretty accomplished. He tells me that he doesn't expect me to make it to my due date and that due to amniotic fluid levels that are a little lower than they like, I might be induced by the end of the week. They also tell me that William has a big head (oh, goody...) and will probably weigh 5 pounds, 14 ounces. We leave the appointment and decide to go walking around the track. All bundled up, I managed to walk one whole mile before it became too unbearable.

Night Number Two: Things really start to get rolling now. I can barely make it through a contraction without making some sort of sound. At first, I was happy with just clenching my fists. Then came squeezing Daniel's hand, followed by breathing techniques. After several hours of this, I can barely walk or talk with each wave. This is the real thing. After about an hour and a half of timing them, we leave for the hospital. It's 3:30 in the morning on December 14th, 2012. At the hospital, I am admitted at 4 centimeters. I'm told that I have technically been in labor for the past 24 hours, which makes me pretty proud of myself.

Things get a little serious for a while, when William decides that with each contraction, he's going to act up. His heart rate goes down with each one, making the nurses keep a close eye on both of us and I am given oxygen to help him out, as well as being told to lay on my right side (it's the only side I can lay on that he will stay under the monitor, ornery little thing). Daniel and I are prepared for the chance of an emergency C-section, but the doctor hoped it wouldn't come to that. At around 5:30 am, my family arrives and at 6:30 and 6 centimeters, I thankfully receive an epidural. At this point, nothing was helping the contractions except to make little whimpering sounds and suck at the oxygen mask. I had given up all show of being tough, despite what Daniel tells me. After the epidural, my water is broken and I am given extra saline to supplement the amniotic fluid, hoping to give the baby some extra cushion.

I continued to progress throughout the entire day, several new visitors, and two shifts of nurses and anesthesiologists. My final nurse, Brenda, was the one who helped deliver William and she was AWESOME. Like, I would most certainly give her a medal. It was also cool that I went to high school with both of her sons, which gave me, her, and my mom something to talk about while I was high off labor and the epidural. Which did I mention was fantastic? Around 11, I am told my baby should be born within the hour. Except I got to nine centimeters and refused to budge (I have a stubborn little guy in there).

Finally, at around 2 in the afternoon, I was able to start the hard work. And believe me, it was the hardest thing in the entire world, no matter how good they were telling me I was doing. All I could focus on was getting my little one into the world. But, as the day had foretold, that would be easier said than done. The doctor had to perform a vacuum extraction, which pretty much was an air-pressurized suction cup attached to baby's head to help him find his way out. After an hour of pushing, and with the help of a doctor, five nurses, my mom, and Daniel, at 2:53 baby William Emerson was born, weighing a little bitty 4 pounds, 14 ounces, and measuring 17 inches long. He was, and still is, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

The star of the show.

Daddy and baby, meeting for the second time.

We are ready for you, baby! (Seriously.)

It has been too, too long since my last post!

36 week, three days, and nothing has really happened. Maternity pictures have been taken. We've stocked up on the supply of baby gear and the hospital bags are packed. The nursery is complete and everything is clean! I've even made sure that I am ahead in my assignments at school, in case D-Day comes before the end of the semester.

Now all we need is the baby.

I keep thinking that any minute now, I'm going to feel something, ANYTHING, that signals labor is imminent. I go to bed thinking I'll be woken up in the middle of the night in a puddle of amniotic fluid or having contractions every 8-10 minutes. Yet nothing happens. I'm just now getting to the time period where it's safe for baby William to arrive, but I am so impatient. Like, "I want to cry, kill my husband, and fake labor" impatient. Everyone asks how I am and I just give them the evil eye. The hormones are in full swing, you guys.

36 weeks, taken by my lovely friend, Sara Dixon :)

I really know that I should be enjoying this time, because after the baby gets here nothing will be the same, but I am READY. R-E-A-D-Y. I hate just sitting here and waiting! Urgh. I might just start kicking my legs like a toddler. I mean, if hissy fits work for them, why can't they work for me!? Sorry for seeming like such a baby, but we are ready for Mr. William to arrive.

On the other hand, I want William to be as healthy and grown as possible, so if he wants to stay and get a little cuter, then he is more than welcome. I will try and keep my complaints down while he tries to nap in there...

34 weeks and the joys of cake.

Only three more weeks and the Little Latta will be safe to arrive! (Well, depending on who you ask. 37 weeks is now considered "full-term". Look it up!) I am so ready for him to be here, as I often say. What I am not prepared for is all the things I will have to give up doing when I am no longer with fetus.

5) I will no longer be able to wear leggings and a shirt. I mean, without inciting the ridicule of every fashionable lady at the grocery store. Which, let's face it, is kinda hard to find around here.

4) I will no longer be able to feign weariness to get out of household chores. Oh? You don't have any socks? I'm sorry that I have been BUSY GROWING A BABY HERE. *said in most snarky tone* (most effective when paired with the evil twitchy eye)

3) Eating half of a cake all by myself will be no longer deemed acceptable. Recently, my mother and I made my husband a red velvet cake for his birthday. That was three days ago. Said cake was just recently polished off by a very hungry, hungry hippo.

And by hippo, I mean "pregnant woman".

2) Sleeping till noon/one/after everyone else is up will be impossible. If I have one more person tell me to "sleep while I can", I might just explode. I KNOW. And you are going to look pretty dumb if I have the perfect newborn who sleeps like a widdle angel. (I know, I'm just kidding myself *sigh*)

1) I will no longer be able to hog the baby all to myself in my mama kangaroo pouch. Because slapping my family members on the hand when they try to touch the Little Latta might be frowned upon. Unless you are a stranger. If so, KEEP YOUR PAWS OFF.

So far, all is complete for his little arrival. Bag is packed, clothes and blankets are washed, and we have enough diapers to last us through...well, at least the first week. I've been pretty busy lately with school and various baby-related events, but I'll keep you all updated :)

NAPS NAPS NAPS NAPS. EVERYBODY!

As a pregnant girl, I have learned the immense joy that is having the opportunity to take naps.

I attend college online and no longer work, so it makes my schedule pretty flexible (that's right..be very, very jealous). Now, don't get me wrong, I often get extremely bored and wish that I had a class to actually go to or still had my job. I don't want to seem lazy...

Even though I totally am. Thankfully though, I have started the whole "nesting" thing, which accounts for why our house looks pretty damn nice right now. Seriously, it's bad. My family almost came home to all their blankets washed and folded. But I considered this too ambitious.

The nesting has only contributed to my nap schedule. The naps lead to me staying up till, like, two in the morning. Then the cycle is repeated once I get up: wake up, eat, clean, sleep, nap, eat, stay up until the wee morning hours, eat, sleep. And getting to sleep is pretty freaking hard when you have a little person saddled to your mid-section. I know, I know, I better appreciate this sleep now, but guess what? Its no walk in the park.
First of all, when I lay down to sleep/nap, I have to create my own cocoon of warmth and find the secret position that the Little Latta wants me to sleep in. Usually, it looks something like this: 

Oh, Cheezburger, how you understand me.

I don't have any discrimination as to where the nap occurs either. You want to play Assassin's Creed but I'm in the bed asleep? TOO BAD. (Sorry, Daniel).

Except sometimes the nap does backfire on me. Such as just now. I fell asleep on our couch, which has the tendency to eat people. I was a good pregnant girl and slept on my left side, so the couch proceeded to gobble me up like some sort of artifact on Haunted Collector (it's a actually a show about haunted things and a guy who collects them. I know, he's going to die alone with a thousand antique dolls). I woke up refreshed, but squished and with hips that felt like they belonged on an 80 year old woman. Which I guess with all the sleeping I've been doing, I might as well be.

Someone bring me my knitting. These naps aren't going anywhere. Well, at least for the next 7 weeks.

No Shave November...the pregnant girl edition.

Until baby William gets here, I've decided to use this blog to tell you guys that I don't see/talk to/try to avoid (haha..kidding..) what I'm thinking as I grow a person. Today's topic: No Shave November.

Here in the Thomas/Latta household, EVERY DAY IS NO SHAVE NOVEMBER. well, for Daniel at least it is. He's had quite the furry face since...well, as long as I have known him, really. I personally enjoy the beard. Without it, he kind of resembles a 12 year-old. (Before you think I'm being mean, he knows this. Hence the beard.)

I like No Shave November. It's an opportunity for all the guys in your life to complain either that they can't grow a beard or that they can't grow one that looks as good as "that guy". You always end up with some guys who look like lumberjacks, some guys who look like they just decided to hit puberty, and then some guys who can only grow things like neck beards (you know who you are).

So I have decided that as a girl who can longer really see her legs, much less reach them, that I am going to participate as well. THAT'S RIGHT. I reserve my right to be fuzzy as well! Also, it's cold out, so who is going to see my legs anyways? Do you really want me to attempt to shave? Because it sort of resembles a Weeble, except I actually will fall down. That, combined with water and soap is just asking for disaster. (Now I'm going to have to pray to the pregnancy gods that I don't fall over anytime soon.) All you other girls feel free to join me as well, so I don't feel like such a weirdo :)

And for you boys who can't grow beards...you could always learn to crochet something like this:

courtesy of Etsy

only eight weeks left...

It's hard to believe that in less than sixty days, the little Latta could be here. Seems like only yesterday I had to go out and buy my first bottle of prenatal vitamins on my way home from the health department. Everything is pretty much ready for him, but I'm not sure we are! The apprehension and the nesting have set in!

The nesting is pretty hardcore. I didn't realize it would hit me all of a sudden that my house and all things baby just are not clean enough. Well, the house is pretty clean...our room just isn't. At least, I don't think so. Daniel seems to have absolutely NO problem with it. He only takes interest in my inane cleaning process when I keep stealing his socks to wash. Especially when he is wearing them...

growing and growing...

All the baby clothes and blankets have been washed and we are ready! I really can't wait until he's here and I can start addressing these posts to him. I mean, I love you guys but still...

:)

My death in the form of a cold, and other updates.

Being as pregnant as I am, I'm already pretty miserable (most of the time). I can't sleep on my back, I have to pee all the time, and I constantly want to eat things that aren't in my house. Now, to top it off, I have a cold.

I'm pretty sure it came from the hospital, ironically. I was there a few days ago with a special little thing called a gallstone. I am now on a low-fat diet (which is pretty much zero fat) and can no longer breathe through my nose. Or hear anything. Or sit through a television show without coughing up a lung. Every time I cough I know I scare the little Latta because I promptly get a swift kick in the ribs/bladder!

He should appreciate my efforts to cure this cold, especially when I can't take hardly any cold medicine. My doctor's appointment Monday cannot come soon enough.

this is how I feel. via I Can Has Cheezburger.

Milestones to mark:

1) My baby shower went fantastic! It's nice to know so many people love me and the wee baby William. We now have pretty much everything we need, besides some more diapers and wipes. The highlight of the shower had to be the games. Chugging apple juice out of a baby bottle has never been more hilarious.

2) I've started having some Braxton-Hicks contractions (also known as fake ones)! I didn't know what they were until I went to my first childbirth class and the nurse explained how they felt. It's kinda cool to know that my body is preparing to bring William into the world, even if we still have ten weeks to go! Which is also terrifying.

the nightly dance of the little latta.

As I sit here in bed, awake partially because of the Coke I drank and waiting for Daniel to get home, I am constantly watching my belly. It's pretty much all I do. I would sometimes rather watch my belly than watch television. Unless Vampire Diaries is on. If so, baby can wait. It's just so wonderful to see William move around in there, sticking out his butt or poking at my belly button region with little feet/hands (I really don't know which is which yet; I only assume). I certainly hope that he is this wiggly and cute once he gets here!

Sometimes I make a game of it. I poke the belly or give it a few taps just to see if William decides to answer. Sometimes he does; sometimes he doesn't. God forbid you try and tickle me. William will let you know that he doesn't like it! It's also pretty hilarious to have Daniel sleep with his arm around my stomach and have William kick him in the arm over and over again until he moves. He's very protective of his mama :)

I know that many of my friends haven't had babies yet, partially because I am a bit ahead of the curve, but there's nothing like seeing and feeling someone you have helped create move around inside you. It's like their little way of telling you they are there, without you ever having to see them.

A kick in the ribs makes for a good alarm clock.

I have been so busy with school and baby shopping that I have forgotten to post. So here's an update:

So far, the little Latta has taken me from wearing cute skinny jeans to leggings-as-pants. you call this against all fashion rules, I call it saving you from seeing me in my pajamas at the grocery store (which lets face it, around here, not uncommon). I have also quit my job, making me feel a THOUSAND times better. Once baby William gets here, I will be sure to look for another. However, not in any rush whatsoever...

William is getting bigger every day, moving and wiggling his way towards my ribs. They have become his new favorite plaything. It only really happens when I sleep, or I try to sleep, or when I'm sitting down watching television. 

So pretty much all the time.

the progression so far!

I am also more hungry than I have ever been! I didn't realize the third trimester would lead to me rummaging through my fridge at all hours like some sort of raccoon. It's just my attempt to gain weight (who ever thought gaining weight wouldn't be a good thing has obviously never carried a baby. I am quickly learning this.) It's hard to believe that he will be here in just a few more months! My baby shower is coming up, and then it will be a mad dash to get everything else that I didn't get in order to prepare for his arrival. I have never had more fun, yet been more stressed, in my entire life.

Well, back to eating and sleeping. <3

Keeping Me Entertained: the All Souls Trilogy

Since I have become pregnant, I spend a lot of my time cuddled in a blanket in my big comfy chair. Therefore, I thought I would share with you all some of the things that have been keeping me entertained.

Normally, people might snub their noses at supernatural fiction books, especially those of the vampire variety. This book makes Twilight look like a book for kindergarteners. Once I really got into the first of the All Souls trilogy by Deborah Harkness, I realized it was possible to have an incredibly intelligent supernatural novel. This book is about an Oxford scholar who is also a witch who's family can be traced back to Salem. The amount of scholarly knowledge that had to go into this book is astounding. It shows a great understanding of many famous manuscripts from extremely well-known historical figures, such as Elias Ashmole, famous scientist of alchemy. The majority of the novel's events take place in the Bodleian Library of Oxford University and the All Souls College. I know absolutely NOTHING about alchemy, however, this book offered an excellent crash course in the subject, seeing as how the main character is a professor of the history of science. The details of the story are so captivating, you almost forget the main character is a witch, or that her boyfriend is a vampire. It's more historical than supernatural at times.

I absolutely love this series and am constantly astounded by the historical figures, events, and books brought in by Harkness. Many of you who may hate supernatural novels will be happily surprised by this series. Hopefully this book has gotten me in the proper mindset for my British Literature class that I will start in a few days. Sadly, I have merely borrowed these books from the library, so they won't be in my personal collection.

a wonderful, wonderful book.

A link to the author's website: http://www.deborahharkness.com/all-souls-trilogy/

Late Night Talks with baby William

(First of all, isn't it much easier now that the Little Latta has a name?)

I love the fact that our little one has ears now. Sure, the sounds he hears are probably equal to what you hear underwater, but that isn't the point. Sometimes he even reacts to the sound of our voice, especially Daniel's (not even born and already listening to Dad more than Mama). Therefore, each night I have a small conversation with my ever-burgeoning stomach. I normally do it when I am alone, since I already weird Daniel and my family out with my pregnancy behavior enough, and it's always before bed. These conversations go something like this:

Me: Hello tiny baby. Are you going to be good and let me sleep tonight? Without kicking me in the bladder and/or kidneys?
LL: *silence*
Me: Okay...well, am I going to have leg cramps tonight? I would like to know ahead of time if you intend on partying it up in there.
LL: *silence*
Me: Sleep good, little baby. *tummy rub*
LL: *flutter*

I would like to think that the baby understands me, since he is going to be a little genius naturally. So what if right now the only thing he knows how to do is open his mouth and tug on the umbilical cord? (I only know that because of What To Expect When You're Expecting) Even Daniel gets in on the action, except his conversations involve less requests and more baby talk. Talking to him makes me feel good, since I know in about a year he's gonna be talking my ears off.

He is part me, after all. 

That's William Emerson to you.

It has been a while since I have posted something for the Little Latta. I have been so, so busy at work. Working at a shoe store during the back-to-school craziness is just one definition of terror. I can only imagine what it's going to be like when I have to buy shoes for the little one.

Just yesterday, we had the pleasure of finding out what our little one is! I saw, before anyone else in my family who attended, that it was in fact a boy! Now Daniel has something to lord over me: that he was right about the little one the entire time.

I cannot wait to buy lots of little plaid shirts and Converses, or little monster outfits! Being mommy to a little boy is something I didn't think I would have to do for a long time, but I guess someone decided I was ready for it now. I can't wait to hold his wriggly little body and play with his baby toes (which, according to the ultrasound are exactly like mine). This baby is going to be loved by lots of people. If I had a dollar for every person who says they are going to buy him stuff, or be his god-family...well, you know, I'd have a lot of dollars.

More to come from the Little Latta!

Baby's First Profile Picture. Look at the cute little nose :)

The evidence that he is in fact my child...a long second toe. haha.

Almost crying over Chick-Fil-A...almost.

Before I was pregnant, Daniel and I didn't get fast food very often. Now, it's ALL I WANT. For some reason, the little one craves french fries with sweet and sour sauce or Big Macs from McDonald's or foot long cheese dogs. Since Daniel got a job making one of my favorite foods (sub sandwiches), I think my stomach is going to eat itself every time he comes home smelling like cooking oil and chicken. And yesterday, before Daniel went to a meeting, he did the unthinkable.

He got Chick-Fil-A. Without me. And didn't bring me any.

Unforgivable!

Okay, just kidding. In all fairness I was asleep when left and when he came home, but still! I would wake up for Chick-Fil-A! (Little Latta, if you are reading this, you see how crazy you made me.) Granted Daniel could have just not told me he got food, but he didn't understand the repercussions his honesty would have. I got all teary-eyed and angry for like five minutes, but it thankfully passed when I realized how ridiculous I was acting. Despite having really done nothing wrong, Daniel apologized for the unshared chicken nuggets. He has been forgiven but hopefully a lesson has been learned. Is she crazy, you ask? Nope. Just pregnant. Well...so yeah. I guess I am.

Moral of this story: Never leave me out of a trip to the Chick-Fil-A. You'll just hurt my feelings and make me want to eat my arm.

Little bites of heaven. If heaven is dipped in Polynesian sauce.

17 weeks...and counting.

Today, I am 17 weeks and three days pregnant with the little one. On August 6th, I will learn what exactly "it" is, and I think it might actually kill me to wait. Seriously. The sight of any baby clothes, down to tiny baby socks, makes me want to explode with the urge to buy, BUT I CAN'T YET. So far, everyone is banking on a boy, due to the poking out of my belly and the layer of fuzz that has grown there as well (this is some thing I will not show you, so do not ask!). I would like a girl, yet I have a feeling the odds are against me.

So far, I have experienced lots of heartburn (heartburn apparently equals lots of hair, so fingers are crossed), major hunger, and mood swings. I seriously think Daniel is going to go crazy. Anytime he tries to leave, I get all teary. Anytime I get mad or he gets mad, I cry (even if the anger isn't directed at me). Tissues have become my best friend.

Everyone in the Thomas-Latta household has determined the Little Latta will be born, due to my cravings, with either feathers, gills, or in the shape of a footlong cheese dog from my favorite fast food place (for Kings Mountain natives, you know it as Wiener Works). Also, the lack of caffeine is driving me crazy. How can one expect me to give up Sun-Drop and Coke?! Whenever Daniel sneaks a cigarette, I add a soda to my tally of what I can have. One a day isn't bad. I get a slap on the hand if I go for more. Baby Lila/William has not caused me much grief, unless I do something I know I shouldn't. For example, eating a humongous taco salad (without ground beef) loaded with sour cream and tomatoes. This leads to an instant trip to the bathroom and a very empty stomach later on.

Consider this a crash course in how my pregnancy has gone so far. Confused? Have questions? Just ask around. Most people who know me...or my mom...or my maw-maw...know more about the little Latta than I do.

The beginning of the Little Latta

It was April, about 4 days before my birthday. There I was, sitting in the health department, attempting to absorb the magnitude of what I had heard. I, according to the nurse, was pregnant. It was something completely unexpected, yet talked about for a while between myself and my husband. We wanted to wait, but apparently someone else had other plans. The first thing I thought of was how would people take the news. Would they be happy? Disappointed? Surprised? Then I realized: it didn't matter. I was happy, no matter the feedback I received. It took a car ride home, a trip to buy prenatal vitamins, and lots of unexplained laughter to convince me. And that is how the Little Latta came to be.