I Wasn’t Prepared For Childbirth or Motherhood

I’m a planner.  I have always been a planner, but as I get older the planning seems to be more important to me.  As I prepare for the birth of my son, I have been researching and planning and thinking back on my own experience with my daughter.  The goal this time around is a completely natural, intervention-free, medication-free birth.  Last time, I had the epidural, the pitocin, the whole nine yards ending in a C-section.  This is why I have been researching, because what I want doesn’t resemble anything I had before.  There are a few things, though, that I remember from last time that I am keeping in mind this time.  Strangely, it is all the things no one bothered to warn me about.  I decided to share these things with you, but please be warned some of them are pretty personal and gross, and of course not everything is exactly the same for everyone.

1.  Not being allowed to eat during labor was probably the hardest part.  I was nauseated and I just wanted some crackers, but my nurse flipped her lid when she came in to find me nibbling on a cracker.  She threatened to stop my inducement (already eight hours in) if I insisted on eating (I can’t believe she said it or I went along with it now looking back).  That being said, this time around I will be eating what I want, when I want, if I want.  My doctor has agreed with this, knowing that I have researched and know the risks.  The risk is that if you have major complications during birth and lose consciousness, you could aspirate the contents of your stomach into your lungs.  Or, if you have difficulty breathing and they insert a tube to assist your breathing, this process can stimulate the gag reflex which could again result in aspirating the contents of the stomach up into the lungs.  There are some other scenarios, all of which end in aspirating the contents of the stomach into the lungs.  Each of these possible outcomes are extremely rare.  For me, the possible risk does not outweigh the benefit of eating while in labor.

2.  I cried post-birth while in the hospital for no discernible reason.  I cried frequently, and I didn’t want any visitors other than my mother.  I needed a moment to adjust and just be, but I couldn’t find my voice to express any of this to anyone, including my spouse.  My nurse asked if I had emotional issues.  I still resent that nurse for implanting in my overly-emotional brain that I wasn’t normal and something was wrong with me.

3.  The after-birth bleeding was scary.  I have never bled so much in my life!  I wasn’t allowed to use the bathroom for quite some time after my C-section (like, until the next day because the epidural stayed in for about 12 hours after surgery), but when I finally did use the bathroom I was instantly panicked.  I had a nurse’s aid assisting me in the bathroom, thankfully, because she could see my instant panic.  She reassured me this was normal.  She also informed me to expect blood clots the size of golf balls, and she said to be sure to call the nurse if I had a blood clot larger than a baseball. I couldn’t believe my ears!  I bled enormous amounts for a full six weeks after birth.  It would stop for a few hours, or even a day sometimes, and then the bleeding would be back with a gush I never could have imagined possible.  I wondered almost daily how the hell this kind of blood loss was survivable!  I needed an absorbent pad on my bed for sleeping and a change of clothes every where I went because even though I was wearing industrial-grade pads, when that gush hit, it didn’t matter what I was wearing.

4.  I was afraid to be left alone with my daughter for the first two weeks.  I felt like I had not been sufficiently trained to care for a newborn, and besides that someone that had lost as much blood as I did shouldn’t be trusted to responsible for anything important!  I didn’t know how to trust my instincts or myself.  I did learn fairly quickly, though.

5.  I couldn’t sleep with my newborn in the same room.  Every little noise she made, like a sigh or squeak, would cause me to bolt upright instantly with a pounding heart because I thought something was wrong.  We had to move her to her own room and use the monitor instead.  Hyper-vigilance to the extreme!

6.  Breast feeding wasn’t for me.  I had to wear a sports bra 24 hours a day (I’m not exaggerating) for six weeks before my boobs quit hurting all the time.  Ice packs were my friend, and I couldn’t stand the water hitting my boobs in the shower.

7.  Colic hit about a week before I returned to work.  My daughter would cry beginning at midnight and lasting until 4:00 am like clockwork every night for a month.  Usually, I was crying right along with her.  She learned to roll over during this time, though, because the only thing that seemed to lessen the crying was being laid on the floor on her tummy.  I tried a heating pad, baths, Mylicon drops, new bottles, new formula, and changing feeding positions.  Nothing helped.  The fact that nothing I did made any difference was so upsetting.  Even when my mother would take pity on me and take a night-time shift, I would just laying in my bed and cry instead of sleep.

8.  Not being my daughter’s primary caregiver (which I wasn’t after I went back to work when she was only 5 weeks old) made bonding with her very difficult for me.  It makes me wonder now if men have the same issue because most men aren’t ever the primary caregiver to a newborn.  I plan to try to share care as much as possible with my husband for our son so that we both get to bond.

9.  Asking for help or advice didn’t mean I had failed.  Let me rephrase–asking for help or advice doesn’t mean you fail!  Say it with me!  Asking for help or advice doesn’t mean you fail!

10.  Lack of sleep, emotional turmoil, and working overtime did not mix well for me.  Why did I feel the need to do it all without much of a break?  I was the sole source of income for my little family, and I freely admit now that working 40-80 hours weekly as a new mother was a terrible idea.  I’m not sure that there was an alternative–bills had to be paid.  But, I know now that I will never put myself in that position again.  I am personally just not built for it.

11.  This one is the best, by far, for me.  I never expected to love my daughter with such an all-consuming devotion.  I didn’t know it was possible!  It isn’t something that anyone can fully articulate, and it hurts my heart to think of all the women I know in the infertility community that may never get to experience that type of love and devotion.  I am such a better person because of my love for my daughter, and I am so extremely thankful for her and my son that isn’t quite here yet (17 more weeks until I’m due).  I don’t feel that crazy love-devotion yet for him, but now I know without a doubt that I will once he is here (even when I’m awake in the middle of the night rocking him as he cries for no reason).

So, those are the things that surprised me the most in the first year of my daughter’s life.  I had such a limited experience with the birthing process since everything was augmented and muted and pushed along according to the hospital’s schedule.  I’m sure I will have a new set of surprises this time, and I can’t wait!  I’m so hopeful for a natural birth this time around.  I think it will help with everything from physical to emotional recovery.

Prayers For St. Louis

The grand jury verdict in the death of Michael Brown is officially in.  Darren Wilson, the officer that shot Michael brown, will not be indicted on any charges.  Now we wait with breath held to see if protesting will be peaceful, or at least mostly peaceful.  It would be nice to make it through this without riots. An interview immediately following the verdict announcement between local news and a state representative who was advocating for healing and peace was interrupted to show a man walking down the street throwing things at buildings.  He was yelling, “Shame on you” as he walked briskly down the street, throwing things (I couldn’t tell what the objects were).  Police moved in and quickly took him in to custody, which he didn’t resist.

The next few days will be tense, to say the least, for all those in the region.  I will be praying for peace and for a purposeful dialogue.  That’s the best I can do.

Anyone who wants to see local coverage, you can watch live coverage on KMOV.com, KSDK.com, or FOX2now.com.

Ahhh…and it looks like the tear gas is out.  Prayers are needed.

Getting Organized…Finally

We have been living in our new home for exactly sixty-four days.  I have been nagging my husband to finish putting Eva’s (our six-year-old daughter) bed together for about sixty of those days now.  My husband and his best friend built her a fantastic bed a couple winters ago on a snow day.  This bed doubled the space in her bedroom when we lived in the apartment, and it was just pretty darn cool!  This bed is also pretty big, and they had to build it in the room because of its size.  My husband had put enough of it together that she could sleep in it, but it wasn’t complete.  I have had the big front wall of her bed sitting in my dining-room-turned-play-room hindering my all my organization efforts.  But, it is finally done!  I can start putting things in order now!  Now, I just need to paint some of bits and pieces of the bed…

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One Lovely Blog Award

Knock me over with a feather!  I was just nominated by Jasmin over at LittleNugget_BigNugget for One Lovely Blog Award!  Thank you, Jasmin, very much for the unexpected nomination.  I greatly enjoy your blog and I take this nomination as a great compliment!

I am supposed to tell you all a few things about myself (seven things, to be precise).  So, here goes…

1.  Now, I’m expecting complete confidentiality with this one–my husband is a whole six years younger than me!  No one seems to notice this little fact, or at the least they don’t mention it even if they think I look older than him.  What’s worse (for him) is most people usually think he is older than me!  He even got a nudge and a wink from a front desk man once for having a “younger woman” with him at a hotel which left me in hysterics and him quite upset.  I always get carded (well, not right now obviously, since I’m pregnant and not drinking) and he never does.  This also burns his biscuits.

2.  I stole a piece of candy (a Tootsie Roll) at my brother’s urging when I was four-years-old.  My mother made me go back to the store, pay for it, and apologize.  Then I had to do extra chores to work off the money she gave me to pay for the candy.  Apologizing to the cashier was the scariest thing I had ever done in my four years.  I thought for sure they were going to have me arrested!

3.  I throw/give away everything I possibly can that won’t upset my family (too terribly, anyway).  I hate clutter and junk immensely!  But, I have a thing about books.  I can’t throw them away, and only rarely can I bring myself to give them away.  I never participated in the textbook buy back programs at college because I didn’t want to get rid of knowledge I would maybe need someday.  Last year, I sold several of these textbooks to Amazon, and I cried while I packed them.  I know, this is not normal.  Who cares about an American Lit book that is eight years old?

4.  I have been late several times to pick up my daughter since the beginning of the school year.  Why?  Well, because I start writing/reading or some other project and I lose track of time.  Luckily, my daughter likes to get picked up last.

5.  I went to college originally as an English major.  I then convinced myself there was no future as an English major unless I wanted to teach high school (which I absolutely didn’t) and then didn’t go back after that semester for many years.

6.  I chew my lips and nails incessantly when I’m stressed out.  My mother can tell how stressed/not stressed I am by the current state of my lips and fingers.  God forbid I ever get a cold sore because she will grill me for ten minutes straight to make sure it’s really a cold sore and not from me chewing on my lip due to some unknown stress.  She loves me, though, and that’s what counts.

7.  I am the youngest of five children, with the oldest being sixteen years ahead of me.  I have 22 nieces and nephews and 2 great nieces and 2 great nephews.  I feel like I have been babysitting since I was five, and I won’t hardly babysit these days.  I love spending time with my nieces and nephews, but I just don’t babysit.

Now, it is my turn to nominate some bloggers I admire (again, the magic number is seven).

1.  A Map of California

2.  Journey For My Baby

3. Our Journey, Our Way

4.  Stop Telling Me to Relax

5.  backwardparentingbybrita

6.  Eventual Momma

7.  And here is where I fail because I can’t think of anyone else.

Thank you again, Jasmin, for the nomination.  It means a lot!  Furthermore, every time someone clicks the like button, the follow button, or share on anything I write it makes me do a happy dance!  Every comment I get in response to something I have written makes me do another happy dance!  I have learned so much from this blogging community through experiences shared and information displayed.  I never expected to have so much in common with so many people.  Thank you to each and every one of you that reads and likes and comments for each of those acts.  You guys make my day every time I post something!

Sincerely,

Mindy

My Husband

Tonight, my husband almost became a single man, or maybe a dead man. 

We were discussing the grocery list and the fact that he hasn’t been juicing.  Juicing in our household has nothing to do with steroids and everything to do with a machine that chews and grinds the fruits and vegetables we put in it.  This machine (a cheapo Wal-Mart model) then spits out the juice from the vegetables and fruit and we drink it.  Great way to get a variety of nutrients we wouldn’t dream of eating (um, beets and turnips for example).  He lamented the fact that he doesn’t have a juicing buddy anymore since I quit juicing.  I had stopped juicing in the first trimester because just the thought of juice was enough to send me running to the bathroom to vomit.  I haven’t started back up yet, either.  So, he misses having his motivational buddy he says. 

He asked why I haven’t been purchasing juicing produce, and I reminded him he was with me at the grocery store when we last went shopping and that he had plenty of opportunity to purchase the produce himself, not to mention he helped make the list before we went.  His response is the part that had the pregnant irrational side of me up in arms and ready to  screech at my husband. 

My husband: “But, I delegate things like that to you, and you’re not doing a very good job.”

Well, I haven’t called a divorce lawyer, I won’t be having this baby in jail, and he’s completely unharmed.  But man, I don’t think I will ever have to explain again that I am not his employee and he is not my supervisor.  Not ever.  At least I hope not.  I’m not sure my blood vessels can take that sort of pressure again.  I also reminded him that yes, he does have to leave the house daily and go to work while I stay home, but that’s really all he has to do.  I handle the bills, the budget, the meal planning and preparation, the cleaning, the child’s activities and school, and anything else that happens to pop up in addition to my work as a freelance writer.  At the end of my tirade I got a kiss and an apology.

As for my irrational pregnant self and I, we are still breathing deeply and focusing on all the wonderful things he does as he has already drifted off to sleep and his snoring has commenced.  I’m reminding myself of such things as when he cleans the kitchen after I have spent hours messing it up while cooking or when he washes and dries the clothes twice a week.  He also cleans off my car when it snows.  He hauls Eva around on his shoulder and acts like he can’t find her (which, of course, she loves).  He vacuums when my belly hurts and I can’t.  He reaches all the things I can’t without complaint.  Most of all, he thinks Eva and I are the best two people to ever enter his life and he tells me every chance he gets (you know, a couple times a year when he has had one glass too many of a big boy beverage) that he doesn’t have any idea what his life would be like without me, but he’s sure he wouldn’t be nearly so happy.

Now, if he would just learn to think before he speaks, he would be pretty much perfect…except for the smells that emanate from him.  I don’t think there’ll be any method or device or medication or thing ever invented to fix that problem. 

I’m That Mom

I’m that mom that wears pajama pants in the morning on the way to the bus stop.  I don’t get out of my car, my neighbors don’t pay attention, and let’s face it–they are the warmest pair of pants I own that fit comfortably still (thank you, pregnancy).

I’m that mom that only has two pairs of jeans because she would rather spend the money shopping for her daughter.

I’m that mom that wipes the dirt off her child’s face at the last minute using spit and a finger.

I’m that mom that immediately gets her feathers ruffled any time anyone has anything negative to say about her child.  I thought I would always be the understanding, rational mom that got to the root of the problem without much difficulty.  Wrong!  It is a struggle to keep my mouth shut and listen to all the facts before making a conclusion (which of course in my mind is always if you don’t think she is perfect then stay away).

I’m that mom that would rather buy her child something than get a hair cut or highlights.

I’m that mom that only gets a babysitter when Grandma, Grandpa, or her child beg her for a night together.  That’s my choice, not my lot in life.  My child isn’t a burden.  My husband and I do things as a family.  What do we need to do that she can’t?

I’m that mom that let’s her house be messy.  There are more important things than a clean house.

I’m that mom that makes sure to get a good snuggle in before bed.

I’m that mom that worries, a lot, about her child’s future self.  If I don’t look at the big picture, I might get lost in the moment.

I’m that mom that nags her child to brush her teeth twice a day.

I’m that mom that wants to be her child’s parent, not her child’s friend.  Eva has lots of friends, but she only has one mom.

I’m that mom that won’t allow her child to tell her no.  A compromise is always possible, but no is never an option.

I’m that mom that reminds her child life isn’t always fair.

I’m that mom that believes lessons about real life are just as important as lessons from textbooks.

I’m that mom that believes boundaries and expectations are just as important as hugs and snuggles.

I’m that mom that reminds her child to be nice to everyone, even to that girl in her class that doesn’t share nicely.

I’m that mom that chose to work from home so she could be more available for her daughter.  I also have the luxury of choice, thanks to my husband’s earning ability.  I wish every parent had that choice, at least once for a few months.

I’m that mom, because that’s who I want to be.  I’m that mom because my daughter is so valuable to me, and I want her to know it in everything I do.  She is precious and mine, and raising her makes me happier than anything else in this world.  She is my girl.  Sometimes she forgets as I’m making her clean her room, or making her pick up her dirty clothes, or making her choose a healthy snack instead of that cookie she has been craving all day, but she is my girl.  I’m that mom, because my mom was that mom, too.  My mom is proud of the mom I have become, and I am, too.  I hope someday Eva gets the honor of motherhood, and that she makes her grandmother and I proud all over again.

My Big Baby Belly

Just a warning, I am not sparing personal pregnancy details in this one.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have been having some belly pain happening.  As my baby boy is growing (rapidly, apparently) my body is trying to keep up with the demand for more space.  I even had an extra ultrasound to check my cervix a week ago because the cramping and pain was enough to concern me.  On both the 20 and 21 week ultrasounds, he is head down and all the way against my cervix (which is still closed up tight, thankfully).  I have been feeling most of his movements against my pelvis and bladder (he has made me pee myself a bit several times now).  He likes to push against my below-the-belly pant-line, too, especially if it’s a pair that is a little snug.  I noticed last night I am not only feeling him way down low, but he is also kicking way up by my belly button, too.  This is going to be a long pregnancy, I’m afraid.  Today, I thought I was dying.  The menstrual cramp feeling was intense.  I tried stretching out to hopefully ease some of the discomfort, but all that accomplished was stabbing, pulling pain that I assume is ligament pain (happens every, single time I sneeze) according to my doctor’s assessment.

I have been getting increasingly paranoid that this baby boy is going to be very big.  I asked my husband to find out from his mother how big he was at birth.  I was pretty average weighing in right around 8 pounds and about 20 inches.  My husband finally informed me Sunday night that he was almost 10 pounds and 22 1/4 inches long.  By the end of the day today, as I sit here, with my belly still hurting and obvious stretching trying to happen, I am worried that my goal to have this baby completely naturally is going to blow up in my face.  If I have to have a Cesarean section, then I have to have an epidural.  An epidural and my body are two things that do not mix.  I had a lot of problems during and after my epidural last time.  Post c-section last time, I could not control my bowels, I had a severe headache, I had a severe backache, and I had back problems (including extreme weakness, numbness, tingling) for months after the birth of my daughter.  I would so much rather have a long, painful birthing than an epidural any day of the week.  To me, an epidural during birthing is the antithesis of what I want this birth to be.  My doctor knows this, and I have pushed to make sure she is on board with me being able to birth the way that I feel my body needs to at the moment.  Now I just hope that it isn’t going to be a wasted effort.

So what do I do with my anxieties?  I blog about them, of course!  I know the power of the mind over the body is not something to laugh at or shrug off.  I need to get over my fears otherwise I might become another self-fulfilling prophecy.  I’m going to stick with my moderate exercise and hope for the best.  If I can prepare my body, hopefully I can prepare my mind.  There is a lot of prayer in my future.

ADVICE WANTED: Breast Milk Storage Systems

Now that I seem to have a clear winner from the breast pump advice post (Medela Pump In Style), I have now switched my focus to breast milk storage.  I am hoping that I will be able to pump enough to be a day ahead (at least) of my baby’s food needs.  Even though I will continue to be a work from home mom that doesn’t have to leave her baby, I like to be prepared for anything.  An even more insane thought, I would like to know that if my husband and I get the opportunity to be alone together for more than three hours that my baby won’t be starving without me.  This baby, as with my daughter Eva, will have no shortage of loving grandparents.  So, maybe a night out with my husband might not be a crazy thought that will only seem real in my dreams.

For breast milk storage, I am looking for something that is reliable (spills, tears, or cracks are not okay), reasonably priced, either drops in or transfers easily to a bottle, and has quick, easy clean up!  I don’t want to spend hours every day washing and sterilizing.  For Eva, we used the cheapie bottles made by Gerber (which I only sterilized upon purchasing).  Since then, Gerber has changed the nipples to a harder plastic that do not vent well in my experience.  So, Gerber probably isn’t happening this time around.  That also means I am open to purchasing a bottle that goes along with the breast milk storage system.  Amazon reviews aren’t overly helpful this time around because there doesn’t seem to be a clear winner or detailed enough reviews to know why some people like a certain type better than another.  I realize that Medela pumps have tubes for storage purposes that I can pump directly into the tubes, but I was hoping for something that could be flattened to save space in my freezer.   Any of you moms out there, if you have any breast milk storage system or bottle advice to give me, please leave me a comment, even if it is only the name of the brand you have used and love!  

I will post the results next week for everyone!

WANTED: Electric Breast Pump Advice (Update! And More Advice Wanted!)

About a week ago, I asked for advice on electric breast pumps.  I had been doing some research, but I wanted to hear from the front lines–the ladies currently or recently pumping and feeding.  I received many tips and bits of advice as a result, and I thought it would be appropriate to share these on my blog for anyone interested.

For all those that offered advice on specific pumps (this includes votes from the non-bloggers in my life) with the thought in mind that I will be exclusively pumping, there is a clear winner.  The stats are…

1.  The Medela Pump In Style received 8 votes

2.  The Medela Symphony (hospital grade) received 2 votes

3.  The Medela hand pump received 1 vote

There were a couple women who purchased an Ameda pumps that didn’t make it more than a couple of months with these pumps before needing to purchase/rent a better pump to bring their milk supply back up.  One of these women had nothing but trouble with the pump motor and battery from beginning to end, requiring replacement parts to be overnight shipped to her on three different occasions.  She finally went to see her lactation specialist who set her up with a hospital grade rental pump instead.

Now, 4 women suggested to me that I rent/purchase a hospital grade pump if it is available/affordable to me.  Of those 4 women, 2 very specifically recommended the Medela Symphony.  It retails somewhere in the area of $1,500 so I don’t see a purchase in my future.  I will research the rental possibility to see if it can be covered by my insurance, but from what the insurance lady told me and sent me I won’t be able to upgrade to a hospital grade rental unless it is deemed medically necessary by a doctor.  Now, I also received a few tips.  Here they are below:

1.  Buy a pumping bra so I can pump both breasts hands-free at the same time,

2.  Be prepared for sore nipples no matter what you do,

3.  Buy and use lanolin on my sore nipples,

4.  (from two ladies) Don’t buy lanolin or use it because my nipples will never toughen up,

5.  Keep spare tubing, valves, and flanges on hand for whatever pump I purchase,

6.  Be prepared to buy different size flanges for a better fit,

7.  Decide on a storage system and invest in an attachment to directly pump into the storage container, and

8.  Don’t settle for a pump that doesn’t completely empty my breasts or I run the risk of mastitis and losing my milk supply.

I was also reminded time and again that the best way to bring my milk in is skin-to-skin contact (feeding directly from the source–da boobies).  So, I will try while in the hospital to breast feed without pumping.  This has opened another can of worms which entails researching things like latch and cluster feedings.  I purchased a book, Ina May’s Guide To Breastfeeding, which I am hoping will help enlighten me a bit and I am asking for any other breastfeeding reading recommendations.

The paperwork sent to me by my insurance has listed a Medela Advanced Personal Double Pump as an available option.  It comes with a shoulder bag and cooler, a battery pack, and a double pumping kit with standard size breast shields and 4-150 mL breast milk storage bottles.  From the Googling I have done, I think this is the same as the Medela Pump In Style Advanced.  Anyone have anything to offer up on this?

Thank  you again to all the women that took time out of their very busy day to offer up their experiences and opinions!

My Sweet Eva

This evening as we are snuggled together on the couch spending some quality time together, Eva kept wiggling her loose tooth.  This tooth has been loose for months and months, and this tooth is a very important of her life.  We discuss this tooth almost daily, as she wiggles it back and forth hoping it will fall out.  She even wrote a book about it this past spring at school and read it to her principal and his assistant as well as her kindergarten class (wow, I’m one of those moms…the brag about how-great-my-kid-is kind).

Tonight, the tooth has learned a new trick.  She was very pleased to announce it now wiggles side to side as well as back and forth.  I told her that it sounded like it was time to try to pull it out again.  She tried, while sitting snuggled up next to me.  Her little fingers slipped right off tooth, and she gave a frustrated sigh.  I suggested that she try again with a wash cloth so she could get a better grip.  She was eager to try it and asked me to get her a wash cloth from the linen closet since she can’t reach them.  I thought about this a moment, knowing we had tried last weekend to convince her to let one of us pull it.  She had said yes initially, but as soon as we began trying in earnest, she was done.  She was too afraid that it might bleed or hurt.  I thought a moment more before I answered her.  The conversation went as follows:

Me: No, I’m not gonna.

Eva: (with a laugh) Why won’t you get a wash cloth?  You just said I need one.

Me: Nope, no way.  You are not allowed to lose this tooth.

Eva: But why?  It’s gonna fall out on its own someday.  I can’t stop it.

Me: Because I want you to stay my little baby girl forever, and you losing this tooth is one more sign that you are growing up.  So no way, no wash cloth for you.

At this, she was silent for a little while.  She played a game on my husband’s phone, still sitting snuggled up next to me.  I went back to paying attention to the show on the television.  After a few more minutes, she put the game down and snuggled closer.

Eva: Mama, even when I am all grown up and I’m a dult (she doesn’t know it’s adult, and I’m not telling her yet), I’ll still be your baby girl.

Me: (trying to suppress the instant tears)  You promise?  You’ll never outgrow being my girl?

Eva: I promise.  I will always be your girl, but you do have to let me grow up.

Me: Okay.  I guess I will get you that wash cloth.

She tried really hard to get that tooth out, and she even let me tug at it several times.  She wasn’t fearful this time but rather more determined.  Tonight just isn’t the night though, I suppose.  It is still firmly entrenched in that little mouth of hers.  Next time we try, though, I bet she isn’t fearful then, either.  I love this girl, and I can wait to see the woman she will become, but every step closer to “dult”-hood makes me so proud of her.