{i heart faces}–oh so silly!

If you give a toddler a cupcake…you’re bound to get some silliness!

Check out more silly faces!

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My journey in breastfeeding…

***Papaw disclaimer***

This post is all about breastfeeding.  In fact, every single picture is of me nursing Charley.  Just a heads up.  Now go clean your laundry room.

What makes you passionate about something?  Do you think about it every day?  Fight for it?  Get that burning/excited/fiery energy when you think about it?  I’ve never actually thought about what it means…passionate.

Every online dictionary contains the word ‘intense’ in the definition.  I love that word.  Intense.  I automatically go into fight mode when I hear it…maybe that’s the competitor in me.

I’m a pretty passionate person to begin with…it’s in my genes.  Yep…the shy little girl who was barely able to nod to her kindergarten teacher…who had a friend order her lunch for her (thanks, Kali)…that girl’s got some fire.

I never felt like breastfeeding was something I would add to the list of things I was passionate about.  Well…I take that back.  Before I had Charley I thought I was passionate about breastfeeding.  I feel ignorant even saying that.  How can you have that intense burning desire for something you’ve never experienced…never even had the chance to fight for?  And when Charley was born, nursing was a breeze.  She took to the boob like a pro and never looked back…and for the first 4 months or so I was in breastfeeding heaven.  But then something happened.  Nursing every hour was taking it’s toll on me…not to mention the recurring clogged ducts.  Breastfeeding began to feel like a chore, and I could see my goal of nursing for 12 months fading away. At 6 months I even decided to wean Charley during the day and only nurse her at night.  I was done.

But after a few days of formula and bottles the burning/excited/fiery energy began igniting in my core…and true passion emerged.

Hi my name is Martha Cate, and I’m a breastfeedingaholic.

This is not a knock on formula mama’s.  My heart aches for the women who fight like hell to breastfeed their babies, and for some reason aren’t able to.  They call lactation consultant after lactation consultant, get nipple shields, take supplements…and yet nothing seems to work so they end up switching to bottles.  And hey, that’s what formula is for…to supplement when breast milk isn’t available.  This isn’t even a knock on mama’s who choose to breastfeed for a few months and then for some reason decide to stop.  However, what I don’t understand is how a woman can give birth…feel her milk come in…knowing all the benefits that liquid gold has…and choose to just let it dry up.  There are women out there that would KILL for that.

Can you feel the passion?

This morning I decided to pull all the nursing pictures I could find…sort of my journey in breastfeeding.

the start of our breastfeeding journey

first time nursing in public

while walking the race for the cure

post nursing coma

nursing post surgery

taken today

You can tell when I was at my breaking point…there are no pictures from when Charley was 4-5 months old…and I like that.  It truly depicts how I was feeling.  No faking it.

I have no clue how long I’ll breastfeed Charley.  In less than two months I will hit my original goal of 12 months…and while I’ll probably cut back a lot I can’t see myself stopping completely anytime soon.

So add breastfeeding to my list of passions.

I’ve got the scars to prove it.

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The brag post…

It’s January 23rd…

and my baby girl is 10 months old (and some change)

That’s 2 months away from a year old.

Where

has

the

time

gone?

In the past two weeks Charley has gone from baby to toddler…and I’m so not ready.

Did I mention sister can walk?

It’s so funny watching her walk.  She’s so little, and watching her stand upright, let alone walk, doesn’t seem real.  But she is so proud of herself…and I’m even more proud to be her mama.  Once she gets going she gets the biggest, cheesiest grin on her face followed by the most mischievous laugh you can imagine…and then she’s off.

She’s extremely busy, and to be honest…downright nosy.  Nothing goes untouched, and if I’m eating something, it better be food I can share because she thinks she’s entitled to it.

And she’s trying to talk…like real words.

She lights up when she’s sees animals, and the other night we went to my parents’ basement, and when I said, “Charley look at the kitty cats!” she grinned…and whispered “kii kii”.

Dog is “da”, and monkey “mmmmmma”.

She’s still a baby, right?

Don’t answer that.

 

 

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{i heart faces}–by the book

Sometimes as a mama you need to give yourself a pat on the back.  All those times I read to Charley when she was itty bitty…and had no clue what I was doing…well that’s paid off.

Sister loves books.

*pats self on the back*

Check out more book photos at i heart faces!

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{i heart faces}–family fun!

While our Christmas break had lots of drama (read my recent blog posts to see why), Charley sure got lots of quality family time.  I’m in love with this candid family fun moment.  🙂

Check out more family fun moments!

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January 29th

Tell your friends.

Because sister loves to eat…and mama needs to help bring home the bacon.

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Making the best of it…

What’s a cross between a funk and being overly stimulated at the same time?

Can’t find the answer?

Neither can I…and I’m there right now.

This pregnancy loss…and it’s even weird for me to call it that because I don’t feel like I was ever pregnant…but I was.  This pregnancy loss has affected me completely different than the miscarriage a couple years ago.  I was a wreck then.  I don’t think I left the house for two weeks…and the crying.  I was heartbroken.  It was a game changer for our little family…and pregnancy would never be the same again.  All the innocence and bliss that a woman should be able to feel when she sees that second line turn pink…gone.  Andy and I couldn’t even really get excited about Charley until 12 weeks, and even then I was one ball of pregnant paranoid mess.  And now this.  It’s almost like I’m numb…and I wonder if one day I’ll just break down, and the reality of what actually happened will pour out of me.

One thing that has been the same with this loss is the obsession I have with researching any and everything related to what is happening to me.  The internet is the best/worst invention out there, and by God I’m getting both of those benefits.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve googled something that involves the word ‘ectopic’ or ‘ruptured tube’.  I can’t help it.  I try and work on other things…but eventually I’m soaking up articles and forums like a sponge.  I’m determined to figure out why this happened, but deep down I know I’ll never get the answer from a computer.  Some things just happen, and my faith is going to allow me to make the best of it…and grow stronger from it.

It seems like most people would be angry with God for letting these things happen…but I find myself closer to Him…thanking Him.  When we miscarried I kept going on and on about how thankful I was that we miscarried when we did rather than carrying the pregnancy further on and then losing the baby.  I kept saying how cool it was that we didn’t even come in for an ultrasound that day…but that Jan suggested we get one…and how if I didn’t get that ultrasound who knows when we would have found out.  Don’t get me wrong.  I was devastated…but I was also thankful.

The same goes for this loss.  I’m so incredibly thankful for the traffic that allowed us to rethink things and turn around.  I’m thankful for the wonderful doctors in Marietta who took great care of me and made me feel safe.  I’m thankful for Dr. Garcia…who is so incredibly upbeat and positive…and makes me feel like an individual, not just another patient.  I’m thankful for the wonderful time I got to spend with my own mama…and thankful for the priceless bonding that Charley had with BOTH sets of grandparents.

No…God didn’t cause this to happen.

But we sure have made the best of it.

Amen!

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Thank God for traffic…

I’m not sure where to begin.

I could say, “A lot has happened”…or be really cliche’ and say, “Andy and I sure know how to ring in the new year”…but instead I’ll just start from what I think as ‘the beginning’.

Christmas morning.

This was our first Christmas as a family of three…and even though Charley won’t remember this, Santa Claus most definitely came to the Spencer house.

I have proof.

I didn't put these out...I've got a wonderful husband who still believes in the magic of Christmas.

I even heard his sleigh bells.  I woke up at 2am and heard them.  I looked up at our ceiling fan and thought how cool it was that the cord jingling around sounded like bells…so much that I sent a text to myself.

“sleighbells on ceiling fan” 

Imagine my surprise when I woke up and discovered that our bedroom fan doesn’t have a cord…and I’ve yet to hear that jingling sound again.

Yes…Santa was at our house.

Once Charley woke up we brought her over to the tree and watched her face light up with each new toy she opened.

We had planned on doing our Christmas thing then packing up and heading to Ohio to celebrate with Andy’s family.  I was having some lower abdominal pain, but I honestly thought nothing of it…so we hit the road.

Christmas in Ohio was great.  Charley got to play with her cousins, bond with Grandma and Grandpa, ride on a pony…it was wonderful.

But my pain had gotten more intense…and although I thought it was nothing, I couldn’t shake the, “you should take a pregnancy test” thought going off in the back of my head.  So on Dec. 26th I asked Andy to go buy one after we ate dinner…knowing that if it was positive we were headed to the ER.  I put Charley to bed, grabbed the test…went to the bathroom…and you could have knocked me over with a feather.  Not only was it positive…it was positive before my pee had a chance to travel to the other side of the test.  I was shaking…not from happiness…but from knowing something wasn’t right.  One of my biggest fears regarding pregnancy is ectopics, and I knew in my gut that was what was happening to me.  Within minutes Andy and I were driving to the ER in Parkersburg, WV…not the best hospital, but hey…it was an emergency.  After practically no waiting, blood work, and an ultrasound the PA came back and told me read from the piece of paper that they were worried that it was ectopic…that they couldn’t find anything in my uterus, but there was ‘something’ in my left tube…but didn’t look like the ‘classic’ ectopic pregnancy.  Seriously?  I have localized pain, I’m pregnant, I’m bleeding, there is nothing in my uterus…and there’s a mass in my tube.  How much more classic can you get?  I explained to her how I was scared my tube would rupture, and why didn’t they just go ahead and take care of it now.  She ASSURED me that it wouldn’t rupture, and that it might just be too early to see in my uterus.  I even tried to tell her that the pain was getting worse, but she pretty much told me I was just worried…and that if my pain got worse (umm…didn’t I just tell you it was?) to go straight to an ER.  She even told us we could drive back to SC the next morning as long as I followed up with my OB in the next 1-2 days.  I tried to be positive.  Andy even held onto hope that maybe it wasn’t even ectopic…that it really was too early.  I love that about him.  I flash back two years ago to when we miscarried our first pregnancy…and we had our ultrasound that showed a baby measuring 6 weeks instead of 8 weeks…and I knew what had happened…but Andy still thought everything was going to be okay.  Ignorance is bliss.

And Charley…

she had no clue what all happened that night.  We got back to Andy’s parents around 1:15am, and Charley was still sound asleep…unaware of all the drama.

When morning rolled around we loaded up the car…in the rain…and began our drive back to SC.  On the road for 30 minutes and we hit standstill traffic.  Ten minutes…20 minutes…30 minutes…all the while my mind racing as to what was going on with my body.  I felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.  The longer we waited the more scared I got until finally after 45 minutes I asked Andy if we could turn around.  As soon as Andy drove through the median, and we were headed back into Ohio, I knew that traffic was a blessing.  I knew something was going to happen, and later on we’d be saying, “Thank God there was traffic”.

Andy’s parents scrambled…trying to find an OB/GYN office that would take me.  Who would have thought it’d be Andy’s dad who would be able to get me an appointment.  At this point it was 10:30am, and my appt wasn’t until 1:15.  I tried to relax and focus on other things…but the ticking time bomb feeling wouldn’t go away, and at 11:30 I couldn’t wait any longer.  I was definitely in more pain, and I wanted to be seen right now.  I kissed Charley goodbye…knowing I probably wouldn’t see her for at least a day.  That was the first time I cried.

Once we arrived at the ER (a different, much better ER), they were appalled that we had been sent home the night before.  They pretty much immediately took me back and bumped me up to the first ultrasound.  I could see from the look in the ultrasound tech’s eyes that it wasn’t good….and when she brought another ultrasound tech in I could tell it was bad.  I heard her talking about fluid and debris…and when she said she was going to take me back to the ER herself rather than waiting for the orderly I knew it was an emergency.  Within a few minutes the ER doctor (awesome guy) came in and told me that he was almost positive my tube had ruptured.  He calmed me down when I had my mini freak out telling him how I know women can die from this.  Within minutes I had about three nurses in the room putting IVs in me getting me ready for surgery.  I called my mom and told her I was okay…and she said she was giving me a huge hug…and that Mamaw was watching over me.  That was the second time I cried.

Fast forward a couple hours.  I woke up in recovery with a sore throat…and one less fallopian tube.  Once I was in my room Andy came up and hung out for a little while.  He said the surgeon told him it was an obvious rupture and a good amount of blood in my pelvic cavity.  It’s a scary thought knowing you were bleeding internally.  Around 8:00 Andy headed back to his parent’s house to help take care of Charley, and I spent my first night away from her in 18 months (9 of those with her in my belly).  I tear up just thinking about it.  I missed her so much my heart hurt.

That night seemed to crawl by.  I slept horribly thanks to trapped air in my abdomen…which I rank right up there with childbirth.  I kept looking at the bandaids where they had done my surgery…trying to process everything.  I had been pregnant…probably for 8 weeks…and I had no clue.  I look back at what I was doing during those 8 weeks.  Christmas at my Papaw’s…pregnant.  All my December photo shoots…pregnant.  Christmas with my family…pregnant.  Thanksgiving…I was probably pregnant then too.  It didn’t feel real.

Finally…morning came.  And with some pancakes in my belly, I was discharged back to Andy’s parents house.

And being reunited with Charley…

God it felt good.

Looking back I don’t feel like I lost a pregnancy.  Andy and I skipped the excited phase.  I consider that a blessing.  Miscarrying two years ago was heartbreaking…and I’m so thankful we didn’t spend those weeks thinking everything was fine…we were blissfully ignorant.

God was definitely watching over us.  He made sure that when my tube ruptured we weren’t in the middle of the West Virginia mountains.  He made sure I was at a great hospital…and He made sure we were surrounded by family..able to take care of Charley.

Thank God for all of this…that I’ve got a husband who went with me to two different ERs…a set of in-laws and sis-in-law that took care of our baby…family and friends praying their little hearts out…a dad who would do and did everything for me (including buying maxi pads), and a mom who is a lifesaver and staying with us to help out for the week.

and…

thank God for traffic.

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