Book Review – Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Womens Prison

Over the last few months of teeny baby craziness I haven’t done a ton of reading, but I have managed to squeeze in a few books. One of those books was Orange is the New Black: My Year In a Women’s Prison.

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I’ve watched the Netflix original series based on the book and I enjoyed it so I decided to read the book and it was actually a really good read. The story center around a woman named Piper Kerman. Kerman was a self surrender to the prison system after being convicted of a crime she committed many years earlier. Thanks to mandatory minimum sentencing and a rather self serving justice system a one time mistake she made in her twenties ended up being a prison sentence she served in her thirties. Kerman tells of the relationships she developed with the other inmates and the ways that her stint in prison changed her outlook on the prison system.

I’ve read many biographies and I often blog about my own life so I am familiar with a myriad of stories and storytelling ways but this was a unique and well thought out perspective on what is often a rather mysterious place. Kerman met many interesting women while in prison and she tells part of their story as well as her own. She also hits on an important topic, especially in today’s world; the privatization of the prison system. Is it right to place our offenders in prisons run by private corporations for profit? Even before reading Kerman’s story I would have said, probably not, but definitely after reading her perspective I think we are doing a terrible disservice to our citizens by placing them in these privately run facilities. The sad conditions and silly bureaucracies of the private prison system driven by a monetary bottom line are obviously not going to be particularly interested in rehabilitation of prisoners since they, by therevery nature, only make money if people are sent to their facilities.

This is a great book. Go, forth and read.

Thrifty Thursday: Savings Catcher App

A few months ago I wrote about Walmarts savings catcher app here.

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Now I’d like to follow up with some information I’ve gathered since I started using it. Firstly I should say that I don’t buy a ton of things at walmart. I really prefer to get groceries from Aldi and meat from a local grocery store. However I still managed to get $32.00 back since I started using the app in January. I use my own reciepts, my sisters, and any that I get from work. All in all I probably submit two a week. The most you can submit per week is seven. According to the app I’ve submitted 83 receipts so far this year. The things I have received refunds for overwhelmingly have been:

  • Ice cream
  • Yoplait yogurt
  • Oatmeal bars
  • Sodas
  • Diapers

What I would conclude with is that if you shop at walmart, get the app, especially if you buy any of these things there. I buy oatmeal bars almost every week and I almost always get a few cents back from those. We have stopped drinking soda so that one no longer applies to me.

Have a lovely, and thrifty, Thursday!

All About That Baby: Sleep pt 1

Babies are weird.

One day he was waking up at 3am to nurse and I would move him from the crib to my bed and we would nap until 5 or 6. Now he is in his own bed usually by 9:30 and he sleeps until 5 or 6. It literally happened overnight. One day it was one way and the next day it had changed. It’s weird. Its nice because it means I usually sleep a bit more, but it is still very odd. I will say now that I have my bed back I am very unwilling to give it back. I could not be one of those parents that lets their older child crawl into bed with them every night. I was afraid I would be, but I can definitely say I wont.

Don’t get me wrong, I definitely enjoyed the benefits of nursing and bed sharing for the first couple of months. I brought him home from the hospital intending to do everything the doctor said. He would only sleep in his bed I thought. He would only sleep on his back I said. Ha. Whatever. I knew going into it that was ridiculous but I tried it anyway and guess what…He refused to sleep on his back most of the time and he woke up every two hours to nurse which meant I slept maybe an hour at a time. Since I was by myself a lot of the time in the early weeks except for when Faith was home from work which is a bit sporadic I was having to be the one doing everything for him at night. From 6pm to 6am most of the time I was it. I also couldn’t sleep during the day. I’ve never been able to take day time naps well and I eve laid down a few times when he napped and tried.

All of those factors led me to night nursing. I would put him in bed with me on his side and we would nurse like that. Eventually we both started falling asleep that way and within two weeks that’s just how we both slept at night. After that I just planned on it. We did our night time thing and by 9pm we were tucked into bed together. The first week or so I would wake up in a panic because I thought I might have smothered him or he might have rolled away. Turns out we both sleep like rocks once we get to sleep. Through the next two and a half months at night we both managed to share a bed and it was actually probably one of my better early decisions.

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taking a daytime nap in his crib

Fast forward to two weeks ago when I started putting him in his crib at night. At first I just wanted to be sure he could sleep without me but the better he did the better I realized he could do. He doesn’t sleep on his back. He sleeps on his belly. I never let him sleep on his belly those first few weeks, but when he started rolling over I decided he probably wouldn’t smother himself. I think that is the greatest harm we are doing to young mothers right now, in scaring them silly with SIDS. I say this because researchers and medical professionals call it Sudden Infant Death Syndrome because they have no idea what actually causes it… Its sudden..that’s all they know for sure. But on that limited knowledge they preach that we shouldn’t bed share, cause SIDS or we might smother them. And we shouldn’t put them on their bellies to sleep until they are way past the stage where they actually sleep better on their tummies. Call me crazy but until I am handed some better and harder facts I’ll do what works.

And it does work. Carl went from sleeping just a few hours in his crib, from 9pm-ish to 1am or 2am at first to all the way to 5am or 6am in a matter of two weeks. Its incredible but very true. My advice: Do what actually works for your baby and ignore inevitable advice you will receive from the hordes of people who just cant wait to give it to you.

And we labored: Part 4

When last I left off we were in the hospital, I couldn’t have any pain meds and the doctor had finally arrived.

Since Dr. Hurd was kind enough to show up there was now a doctor to help catch the baby they finally let me push. Apparently my pushing wasn’t good enough because the short, squat, square faced Dr. Hurd told me I wasn’t pushing hard enough. Apparently I could do better. As awful as not pushing is, pushing is kind of scary in and of itself. In quick succession you worry about tearing, you worry about how undignified this whole experience is, you worry about what seems to be squirting out of you (blood, guts and amniotic fluid), you worry about pooping (yes, pooping) cause that is awful and you worry about what on earth to do with the baby once you finally push it out.

Imagine being in intense pain and thinking “I can’t be a mom”, “What am I going to do with a baby?”, “Steven and I are way too fucked up to be parents”.  It all goes through your head. I worried about all of that seemingly at once and then I couldn’t worry about anything because I needed to push again and this time I was bound and determined to only have to push as few times as possible because it hurts…pretty bad. That part is like a 9 on a universal pain scale. At one point, probably half an hour into pushing I asked the doctor how many more pushes (cause that’s helpful) and he said, maybe five. He made that number up. I knew he was making it up when he said it and I just didn’t care. I appreciated the fact that he humored me. I just kept thinking I can do that. I can get this kid out if I just push through the pain, quite literally. When you push it is the same muscles you use when you have to do Number 2. So that kind of sucks. Somewhere in this time period they attached a vacuum to the babies head because his heartbeat started to drop. I didn’t find out about the heartbeat until later but they did tell me about the vacuum.

Then something truly awful happened…The vacuum popped off of the babies head… the vacuum suction attached to my hairy babies head came off…and I tore. Ladies, you dont need me to explain the tearing if you have ever experienced it. If you haven’t I hope it stays that way. They quickly reattached the vacuum and I pushed a little more and then I felt the head come out, then the shoulders. The shoulders are as bad as the tearing. That was the two worst parts. The shoulders coming out is probably the most painful, if short lived experience of my life. But then the neatest thing happened. I heard a baby crying. My baby was crying, and not in me anymore and a real live human out in the world. I didn’t birth a still born baby which was my biggest fear (Thank you crazy pregnancy dreams). They put Carl up on my chest and another dream like image floated in front of me of Steven cutting his chord. And then they took little Carl away to check him and clean him and Steven stayed with him because that was our deal. He wasn’t supposed to let that kid out of his sight. When I was pregnant I had a paranoid fear that something would happen to my baby if Steven didn’t watch him every second while I was otherwise occupied.

While all this was going on I began to feel an odd tugging sensation, turns out that was Dr. Hurd tugging the placenta out by the umbilical chord. I realize this is graphic so feel free to skip this part but imagine for a minute this short, squat, square faced little man at the end of your hospital bed where you are still a bloody filthy mess tugging your babies umbilical chord which is attached to the placenta…which is still inside you. That was one of the oddest moment of my life. I helped him out by using a final push to push it on out. That was by far the easiest part. After a babies shoulders a squishy placenta is nothing. That is however when I found out about the tearing, which kind of sucked. There is no better way to put that and no one is ever happy about it. I tore a two…whatever that means and I had to have stitches which the ever helpful Dr. Hurd put in place before bee bopping off to wherever he went next. By this point I was being cleaned up and getting ready for the flow of visitors that were apparently right outside. I think I held Carl a few minutes before they came in. I did, because someone took this picture before everyone else got to hold him. I may have even tried to feed him. That I don’t remember.

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I was told by Steven later that the few minutes I thought had passed were actually almost two hours. I did feed him. That is one thing my boy can do. He nurses like a champion.  After our recovery period Faith came in, then Steven’s parents came in and then my mom and brother. It was a quick visit because by this point it was well into the morning. Remember I said I came in initially at 9pm to the hospital, well Carl was born at 12:53am or 12:54am depending upon who you ask. After all that fuss and muss they finally put us in a room. It was one of the nice ones with a suite attached. Carl had to be under the warmer for a little while but I soon got him back. He stayed with me in my hospital room most of the time except for when the pediatrician came to look in on him. I stayed in the hospital from Friday to Sunday and let me tell you that place makes you stir crazy after a while.

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I’ve received a lot of positive comments which I have appreciated. I’ve enjoyed writing about my experience. I wrote most of this the week after he was born and this week I just went back and edited it. Everyone’s birth story is different and mine is very unique for a first baby. Seldom do people have such an short labor, especially with their first.. You can catch first three parts of the story here, here and here.

Have a wonderful day!

And we labored: Part 3

When last I told this epic tale I was being driven to the hospital post haste. My tale began around 9pm, and at this point it is a little after 11pm. We made it to the hospital, and Steven wheeled me up to L&D in that same wheelchair from an hour ago. I remember the wheelchair. I remember the nurse Erica’s face when we showed up for the second time that night under considerably different circumstances. After all the poor woman had discharged me less than an hour before. I remember Steven asking where they wanted him to take me. I was so tired and the contractions where continuous at this point. No breaks in between to breathe that I could distinguish. I was beginning to feel a foreign urge to push. Push what from where I wasn’t certain but I knew I needed to push. Nurse Erica pointed us toward a room and Steven helped me get out of my clothes and into a gown because there was no way I could do it myself. I remember somehow ending up on the table.

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We had taken a tour of the L&D wing several months before where they showed us all the neat features of the bed, like how it transforms in all these different ways for ease of birth in different positions. I never got to use any of those features. I didn’t need anything to speed labor along. I got onto bed somehow and Nurse Erica checked me. As she was checking me I was asking about an epidural. Or pain medication, or really anything. In my head I was thinking just hit me with something. Knock me out. I’ll take a csection please. Originally, in my birth plan which never saw the light of day, I thought I would let labor progress until I was at six centimeters dilated and then ask for the epidural. I didn’t want to get one until I really needed it. Its funny how intense pain will change ones mind because I really didn’t care how dilated I was at that point I just needed relief.

Nurse Erica looked at me, with a big smile and said “Well how about lets just have a baby”…. My immediate thought was “What the fuck?”. You have got to be kidding me right? However I had promised myself that no matter how much pain I was in I would be polite and nice to the nurses and to Steven during my labor. I didn’t want to look back on it and have to apologize for being a crazy bitch. However right at this moment Nurse Erica was reminding me of the chesire cat. I was certain I had fallen down a rabbit hole. So I politely asked for an epidural to which she then calmly ordered the nurse next to her to get a doctor because I was at a ten. As in ten centimeter dilated. As in the babies head was coming out anytime now. I don’t think she realized I heard her but I did. In my head I am thinking and out loud I kept thinking I’m not ready yet. It isn’t time yet. This is too fast. Nurse Erica had assured me I wouldn’t be ready until probably tomorrow. I want my epidural. I wasn’t going to be a hero.

I had said, since almost the beginning that I wanted pain meds. i said this in labor class and I am fairly certain they thought I was a drug addict. I just thought it had to be a joke. But it wasn’t funny. Then I thought it had to be a dream, it was too soon to have him, but then the pain came through and I realized I had never had such a painful dream. All of that was obliterated as soon as the next wave of pain came with the overwhelming urge to push. I told everyone that I thought I needed to push which was very adamantly denied. Don’t push I was told. Breathe through it I was told. I was beginning to believe there was a hell and labor, specifically trying not to push, was it. There were nurses everywhere trying to put an IV in, prepping for the baby, and Steven was there holding my hand and repeating what the nurse said about not pushing. I could see them all, but at the same time it was like I only saw parts of the event at a time. My world had narrowed to the pain and fear and the occasional face I saw above me and Steven holding my hand. The pain isn’t scary. The pain is just something to get through. Ive been in pain before. What is scary is being in pain and being responsible for helping a child come into this world. Of all the things in life you don’t want to screw up this is a big one. I knew I could deal with the pain because it would eventually end but I was a lot less sure about being able to deliver a healthy baby.

part 3Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity but in reality was probably about 20 minutes a doctor showed up. He was a sarcastic sort of fellow with glasses and a square face and a dry sense of humor. His name was Dr. Hurd and he is definitely not who I would have picked to deliver my baby, but at least he had a good sense of humor and didn’t add to my mounting sense of panic. My regular doctor is a kind, soft spoken sort of fellow who instantly makes you feel like everything will be ok. Dr. Hurd had nothing of that bedside manner, but he would do in a pinch…which this definitely was because shortly after he showed up the babies head started to crown and I heard lots of exclamations about a head full of hair. Apparently I was birthing Chewbacca. I remember having this thought rather fleetingly. After finally managing to find a vein that would take an IV. They tried both arms and finally got a hand. All that was going on while I was trying not to push and dealing with my new completely pain medication free reality.

I’ve really enjoyed writing this story and looking back on it with fresh eyes. I’m so glad I chose to write it down and I hope someone else might benefit from it. You can catch parts 1 and 2 here. Stayed tuned for the next installment.

And we labored: Part 2

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Labor is not like a field of flowers…

When last I wrote about my laboring experience I was at the hospital getting checked in. So Steven, Faith and I settled in for an hour of misery. Seriously, it is kind of the worst thing in the world when you can only lay there in misery. The pain was getting worse and while I had been having these painful contractions all day at least up until that point I had been distracted with a number of tasks and not confined to a bed by a fetal heart monitor. Basically they put you in a “gown” which is basically a large sheet with arm ties, they strap a fetal monitor to your belly and you have to lie on your side and ask the nurse every time you need to get up and tinkle. Which I had to do twice in an hour. After I got past the fact that I was just going to have to lay there I was able to breathe through some of the pain, but I will say that was one of the longer hours of my life.

Nurse Erica came in to check on me after about an hour and fifteen minutes and with a rather sad but not all that surprised look she told me I still hadn’t progressed but that the doctor was going to order a shot of Demerol for pain and phenergan for nausea. She assured me that I would probably be back the next day ready to have this baby and that I would be more comfortable at home sleeping in my own bed for the night. While I had no desire to stay in the hospital, at that point I was in enough pain that I was pretty sure if it continued for another day I wasn’t ever going to be comfortable again. I didn’t argue with her. I thought about it but I was too tired and uncomfortable to deal with her so I just thanked her for checking me and for getting the medication because at least then I might be able to sleep and maybe I wouldn’t throw up the dinner I had eaten a couple of hours before. Out of the gown I went back into my regular clothes.

We all went home and started to get settled in for the night. I was honestly halfway delirious from the pain meds and all I could think was “I want some comfortable underwear”. I somehow changed clothes, got everything settled for the night, and lay down on the couch because the bed had been hurting my back for a couple of months now. I remember rolling this way and that way trying to get comfortable (hah) as the contractions just kept on coming. Finally I rolled onto my right side, got semi comfortable and closed my eyes. Steven had just gotten back from getting some dinner and just finished eating it. Faith was settling down getting ready for bed. I remember being in so much pain. I thought it was just the regular contraction pain. I really needed to go to the bathroom but I hurt so much I wasn’t sure I would be able to get there on my own. I remember calling for Steven, then I remember thinking I must have had an accident because I waited too long to go to the bathroom…Steven at first thought I had just had an accident as well and as he was helping me to the bathroom I was still gushing fluid at which point he realized my water had broken. I guess I should have realized it myself. Right before it broke I felt this weird popping sensation and then I was in extraordinary pain. I went from a 6 pain to a 9 pain in a matter of seconds. That is the downside of the Demerol, it made me a little fuzzy until the pain burned through it.

Steven called a friend to escort us to the hospital ( the one great thing about being a police officer: on duty friends with patrol cars and lights and sirens) and somehow in the next minute we made it to the car. I remember adamantly protesting that I was not going in the from seat I was going in the back. I was in so much pain I couldn’t have comfortably sat up for anything. I didn’t have shoes on at that point because I had ruined my other clothes and only managed to drag a dress over my head so I scraped my toe on a rock on my way to the car which wouldn’t have stuck out in my mind except that I had a pedicure only a few days before and I’ve only had two of those my whole life. I wanted two things when I went into labor, other than an epidural, cute toes and shaved legs (and shaved other places too). That’s the benefit of watching birth videos in labor class, you get to see a lot of ugly feet and hairy places.

We sped to the hospital which seemed to take forever but probably only took a a few minutes. I kept thinking to myself that my water couldn’t have broken. I was at one centimeter dilated only an hour ago, surely my water didn’t break. That doesn’t happen. I remember being halfway afraid of having the baby in the car even though I was mostly convinced I couldn’t have progressed that far. I was in so much pain. It wasn’t the worst pain of my life like they tell you it will be but I was so tired already from a long day and halfway out of it from the medication I had received less than an hour ago that I just couldn’t quite get clear headed and deal with the pain like I normally might have. This was honestly the part I dreaded. I mean the pain I had been in all day from the contractions and back ache wasn’t any fun, but I hate hospitals. They make me want to have panic attacks and I get an overwhelming sense of cabin fever if I am in one for more than a day. So I really wasn’t looking forward to labor if for no other reason than I knew I would be in a hospital.

By this point it was around 11pm. The rest of my exciting story is coming. I hope you have enjoyed it so far. The first part can be found here.

The wearer of many hats!

I’ve always been a morning person. When I was little, maybe 4 or 5, I remember getting up at the crack of dawn and watching my dad get ready for work. He was a mason at this point in life and they left for work before sun up so that they could work during the coolest part of the day because in Mississippi even the cold days aren’t usually so cold that manual labor is a breeze.  He would make coffee, and I don’t mean a mug of coffee like I am drinking right now, I mean a 32 ounce huge plastic cup of coffee. It was always the neatest thing to me. I loved the smell. Back then I was in a prek program and I could have been sleeping, most kids that age can barely get out of bed when it is time, but I was weird. Still am. Things change and life moves along so these days I get up at an awful hour to pump so that my sweet little man can have what he needs and I have some time to do the things I enjoy like writing and crafting and whatever else that makes me, well me.

I haven’t been a mom very long, but in the grand scheme of things I think the best parents don’t become consumed by their children. I don’t mean this in the cannibalistic fashion. I think you have to have a separate identity.  As my old friend Carl Gebhardt would say, you have to wear several hats. I’m a mom, but I am also really good at my job, and I am a maker, and a writer, and a wife and a daughter and a sister. I don’t want to lose sight of those things. If I did I think I wouldn’t be as good of a mom. I’ve seen so many parents, and in my various jobs and Steven’s we have had the opportunity to observe a lot of parents. Some of these parents focus entirely and their identity is tied to their child. Everyone parents differently but I really believe this is a mistake. Do we want our children to be just one thing? Of course not! So why would we show them that as the example? I want Carl to be the greatest little human he can be. I work with him every single day to teach him things, and make sure he is happy and healthy and growing and I try to be the best mom I can be. A part of that is making sure I can still find myself.

I wont pretend it isn’t a struggle. I have been functioning on 4-6 hours of sleep, and not all together either, broken into short naps usually, for at least six months because even in the womb little man could keep me awake. That makes a person a little batty. They say nap when the baby naps and sometimes I do that but usually I don’t. Instead I tend to get up and do housework or work from home or unpack since we just moved. There is so much to do but I try and keep in mind that there are priorities and then there are wants and I need to do what needs to be done and let some things go.

Being a parent is a new adventure. Hopefully I can do it right because this little man is too cute to mess up.

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And we labored: Part 1

There are certain moments, certain parts of memories that stay with you. I think giving birth is like that. I want to tell the story of Carl’s birth so that I don’t forget it, and one day if he wants to know he can read about it from his mom’s perspective from way back when rather than how times colors our memories.

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Thursday, April 23 I was in pain. I can remember when it really started to be notable. It was around 2pm in the afternoon and I was walking out of the Foodland. The pain progressed all day but I tried not the focus on it.  I was walking around my house about 6pm debating whether or not to call my husband and tell him we needed to go to the hospital. I had been out and about all day in hopes that walking would help things progress in the right direction. The day before my doctor had told me that I was still at a centimeter dilated and women can sit at a centimeter for weeks. I had already been at a centimeter for a few weeks. I did not want to be one of those women that went past their due date. I only had so much maternity leave and I wanted to spend it with my baby. I made an induction appointment for my 39th week which was just a week after that day. I was ready to not be pregnant anymore. So I walked. And I might have tried spicy food. And I might have had a cup of coffee with pepper in it because that’s what my mother did before me when she couldn’t stand being pregnant any more.

I walked around the mall. I walked around Walmart, I bought Steven’s birthday present. I came home and made a grocery list for the next day. I even made dinner. Steaks and potatos. At about two that day I had started having painful contractions. Not debilitating, but definitely uncomfortable. Around four I started timing them just out of curiosity. I honestly figured they couldn’t be close enough together to be a big deal. And at the time I was under the extremely false impression that contractions came ten minutes apart, then nine minutes, then 8 minutes…etc. This is not the case, at least not for me. They were between 9 and 11 minutes apart which is not really close enough to do anything about. We headed home and I sat and drank a bottle of water like they recommend for false labor contractions…which didn’t help. Turns out the contractions were getting a little closer together. By nine my contractions were between 4 and 7 minutes apart. Steven and Faith made me go to the hospital even though I knew they would just send me home. That’s what I told them, that’s what I told the nice L & D nurse Erica, that’s what I said to the people in the elevator as Steven wheeled me to the fourth floor. That’s what I told anyone who would listen. I definitely was not in labor. I was however in an increasing amount of pain. When they tell you that your contractions will come in neat little time intervals just know that is bull and they wont be like that.

Steven wheeled me to the desk, while I fully protested the use of a wheelchair. I was fine. I was rather adamant in insisting that I was fine. Erica (the nice L&D nurse) took my information, sent me to a room and told me to put on one of those god awful gowns and she would be in a second to check on me. So Steven, Faith and I go the room, I put the stupid gown on and for some reason I thought I wouldn’t really need to take off my underwear. Luckilly Erica was a patient woman in explaining to me that I would indeed need to completely undress. So completely undress I did. I hopped rather ungracefully on the bed, at this point I was still having contractions and they were still pretty painful. Erica attached a series of monitors to my huge belly with this weird elastic belt thing and suddenly we could hear Carl’s little heartbeat. She checked me for dilation and I really could have cried when she told me I was still at a one. I honestly didn’t know at that point if I could handle contractions much more painful and in my head, from everything all those other women had been telling me it only got worse as labor progressed. Needless to say I was not a happy camper. True to form, Nurse Erica kindly told me that she would monitor me for an hour and then check me for dilation which would determine whether or not I would get checked into the hospital or sent home. She was at least really reassuring. I had been rather afraid all the nurses would have horns and breathe fire. If you are like me and you dread this part just know it probably wont be as bad as you think at least before the baby gets there. I found that the nurses were much more intrusive after he was born rather than before, but then again I had a different labor than most women.

Tune in next week for the next part of my exciting labor series.

The times they are a changing

Ever feel like you are being pulled in a thousand and one directions? Well that has been me the last three months. Summer is always a busy time for people in ministry but it is especially busy when you are coming out of Maternity leave and you have a cute little baby that needs you every couple of hours for food. So what have I been up to?

Well I went from this:

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To this:

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To this:

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Let me tell you that is a lot of changing. Over the past few months I went from pregnant to having a sweet little baby to having a sweet big baby. Breastfeeding which is a whole new adventure. My father was murdered, we handled his arrangements, my aunts are still not speaking to me and as of right now I am ok with that. I planned a memorial service just three weeks before little Carl came into this world.

Then Carl was born and I was not at work and time literally flew by. We figured out how to nurse. He has almost doubled his weight. He is a healthy, happy little rascal (currently taking his morning nap). Being a mom is interesting. A lot of it I expected but there were definitely some surprises (like breastfeeding, bed sharing, and how cute he is). I’m familiar with children. I spend a lot of time with them. My kid is definitely an adventure. Hopefully now that things have settled down a bit I can get back to writing. I have slowly started to pick up the things that I enjoyed pre baby like sewing and stitching and a clean house… ;-P

I hope you all have had a lovely summer.