A Year In Review

I think 2020 is over... which would make a year-in-review appropriate, although I'm not 100% sure we're not just stuck in the vestibule of Hell from the Inferno.

 

At any rate, here is a summary of what we did last year (assuming it was actually a year ago).  Surprisingly I have remarkably few pictures.  I guess we weren't very busy for some weird reason.

January

The year began as usual, with the disembowling of the gingerbread monstrosity house.

this would be Day 2.

Scripture for 2020

It's comforting to know that we are not the only generation who have suffered and are confused; and that God is eternal and powerful.

Psalm 90

O Lord, You have been our refuge from one generation to the next.

Before the mountains were born or the earth or the world brought forth,

You are God, without beginning or end.

You turn men back to dust and say: "Go back, sons of men."

To Your eyes a thousand years are like yesterday, come and gone,

no more than a watch in the night.

You sweep men away like a dream, like grass which springs up in the morning.

In the morning it springs up and flowers: by evening it withers and fades.

So we are destroyed in Your anger, struck with terror in Your fury.

Our guilt lies open before You, our secrets in the light of Your face.

All our days pass away in Your anger.  Our life is over like a sigh.

Our span is seventy years, or eighty for those who are strong;

and most of these are emptiness and pain.  They pass swiftly and we are gone.

Who understands the power of Your anger and fears the strength of Your fury?

Make us know the shortness of our life that we may gain wisdom of heart.

Lord, relent!  Is Your anger forever?  Show pity to Your servants.

In the morning, fill us with Your love; we shall exult and rejoice all our days.

Give us joy to balance our affliction for the years when we knew misfortune.

Show forth Your work to Your servants; let Your glory shine on their children.

Let the favor of the Lord be upon us: give success to the work of our hands,

give success to the work of our hands.

"We should be grateful to the Lord our God for putting us to the test, as He did our forefathers.  Recall how He dealt with Abraham, and how He tried Isaac, and all that happened to Jacob in Syrian Mesopotamia while he was tending the flocks of Laban, his mother's brother. 

Not for vengeance did the Lord put them in the crucible to try their hearts, nor has He done so with us.  It is by way of admonition that He chastises those who are close to Him."

-Judith 8: 25-27

We may not understand it for some time, or even on this side of eternity, but it's good to have a Faith that tells us all this is serving a purpose, and that purpose is for our benefit.

Dominic's baptism

Pictures!  Pictures!

Dominic was baptized the last Saturday in August.  He was just three weeks old.  We asked Mr. Pickles' sister and Mrs. Pickles' brother to be godparents, and they were both able to trek across the country from the Middle West and the Far West, respectively.  When the other sibling and the parents on Mrs. Pickles' side heard that, they made a point of coming too, so it was a real family reunion!

all that fuss for me??

Saturday's Child

So... details!  And pictures!

As you all know, this was a *planned* homebirth. 

the Birth Team (rah! rah!) -- two midwives, the birth assistant, and wonderful labor coach (Mr. Pickles)

He's here he's here he's here!!!

Dominic Francis

born at home

Saturday, August 8, 2015

at 9:45 pm

weighing 9 LBS 12 OZ

21 inches long

We are all soooooo glad!!

The Blessing of Andrew

So this is what being "open to life" really means.

It means trying to be joyful about a surprise pregnancy, coming much earlier than you were planning.  It means being pregnant during a Virginia summer.  It means still trying to be excited when the sonogram doesn't show the gender you were hoping for.  It means spending hours and hours on lesson plans ahead of time so you can still homeschool with a newborn.  It means giving up your dreams of the birth you wanted, and still trying to look forward to it.

Basically, being open to life means not being in control.  And accepting that you're never really in control.

It also means experiencing your best pregnancy ever.  It means having little nausea (but still lots of tiredness).  It means enjoying the mildest summer in recent memory.  It means feeling great and full of energy right up until the very end.  It means being blessed with a good chiropractor, under whose hands you enjoy good posture and balance. (and lung capacity)  It means seeing the unfettered joy of the siblings as they anticipate the arrival of another playmate and rival. (heaven help us)  It means experiencing a reasonable weight gain, and not needing the size L maternity clothes until the last month, and not even needing the size XL at all. (huzzah!)  It means having a baby born during the most beautiful time of the year.  It means watching your generous friends drop everything and come together last-minute to make sure your children are taken care of during the birth.

Being open to life means being blessed with unexpected joys.  God is never outdone in generosity.

Andrew Karol

born October 25, 2012 at 6:51 pm

7 lbs, 10 oz.

20 ins. long

Now We Are Ten

January 2010

That is, our marriage is. The day before Katie celebrated her birthday, Mr. Pickles and I celebrated our tenth (TENTH!)(!!) anniversary. When we were still engaged, one of my co-workers was celebrating his tenth, and I remember thinking, Wow, that's a lot of years. You're seriously grown-up when you've been married for a whole decade. I couldn't imagine what it would be like for Mr. Pickles and me to reach that point, and now here we are already! Both slightly further along the path to salvation, as God intended.

two years

When Mr. Pickles and I got engaged, we both knew then that being married to each other was our best bet for getting to heaven. There was something about the other that inspired each one to want to be better persons -- to be worthy of such an amazing person. I discovered in myself hidden depths of humility (oldest child that I am), recognizing that my husband is a much better person than I am. More thoughtful, more considerate, more giving of self without complaint, more prayerful. I am still awed and humbled by his holiness -- I will never feel a worthy companion for him. There are so many, many times I know I fall short of the kind of wife he deserves: someone more cheerful, more generous, more self-sacrificing, more industrious than I am. But I believe God has given me to him for some mysterious reason, possibly to reduce his time in Purgatory by having to live with me. :)

Christmas 2002

Or perhaps it's because my family of origin is intact, and that therefore the possibility of divorce is for me utterly unthinkable. Regardless of the reasons for a family's breakup, divorce does terrible things to children. They will carry the wounds from it for the rest of their lives. Add to that a father absent during crucial years in a boy's life, and you get a lot of deep-set fears and insecurities that will never really go away, because they are subconscious and beyond the control of reason. But I know I'm in this forever, for better or for worse -- and I believe that certainty has rubbed off a little onto him. Perhaps this certainty provides a security and stability he otherwise wouldn't have known, and that enables him to trust more in the goodness of God the Father, believing he is loved no matter what.

three years

I know why God gave him to me: to inspire me to greater holiness by his example. This was one of the major things which first attracted me to him: seeing him praying in the chapel. So often in the evening now I notice him taking time for quiet prayer, while I am bustling around putting the house to bed. I feel a twinge of guilt, recognizing that I should be joining him, taking more moments like that to be still and reflect.

four years -- waiting for Katie!

The other major thing about him which attracted me was his attention to people. When he looked at me while I was speaking to him, I always knew I had his undivided attention. Some people found it unnerving -- as if he were looking into their very souls. :) I liked it. It made me feel important enough to be listened to, a precious thing to me when he was one of the half dozen Most Eligible Bachelors on campus, and the (non-discerning) male:female ratio at the University was about 1:7. :)

five years

He is still this way -- taking the time really to listen to people, to reflect, to ask pointed questions. So many times I've watched him in conversation with people (especially on my side of the family) when he can barely get a word in edgewise, because he takes the time to reflect on what they've said before he responds. I've learned to give him time to respond when we're talking, because his thoughts are worth waiting for.

six years

Our times for conversation have become rarer -- when the kids are awake the family activities revolve around keeping them warm, fed, and alive, and when they're asleep we're finishing up all the mundane household tasks that couldn't be done while we were making meals, teaching manners, and mediating squabbles. But every anniversary we try to take time away. Mr. Pickles really knows how to spoil me. Actually, he really has a gift for knowing how to honor an occasion that merits celebrating. We've been on a dinner cruise on the Potomac, we've stayed overnight at fancy hotels (with hot tubs in the room), and, most recently, flown to a semi-exotic location sans kids (well, we brought the baby, but he hardly counts).

'sup

For all this talk about "getting away" from the kids, it's not really about escaping from them. Well, okay, maybe it is a little bit -- but our evenings or weekends alone together aren't about escaping from our family life. They're more like retreats -- turning down the volume on the distractions and taking some time to focus on each other, remembering what it is that keeps our marriage strong and happy. In this way we return home renewed, ready to meet as a united front the challenges of raising a family.

seven years

That family has been the greatest of blessings to our marriage. We just really can't understand couples who choose not to have children. I think it was Kimberly Hahn who said she didn't realize how selfish she was until she got married, and then she didn't realize how selfish she still was until she had a child. I know that I am a better person for having had children -- I'm more willing to bear others' faults and slower to complain when things don't go my way. Having children really does mature you, because it makes you get over yourself and realize you're not really all that important -- except to a handful of people for whom you're the center of the universe. :)

nine years

It's been beautiful seeing Mr. Pickles with his children. He is so patient with them -- much more than I am capable of sometimes -- and loves to play with them and have fun. At first I used to resent the fact that Dad was always the fun one while Mom was the slave driver. But then I realized that he's so much better at the fun stuff than I am -- roughhousing and being silly and playing make-believe aren't work for him like they are for me. So now I'm content to be the rules enforcer in addition to primary baby snuggler. The role has its perks. :)


Of course we've had some rough patches -- it hasn't been a smooth climb to this point. It's more like a roller-coaster, alternating moments of emotional distance with intense unity. Even during the difficult times we're happy and hopeful, knowing that we've got a lifetime to try to perfect our marriage. We were blessed to have such an excellent marriage preparation, so we remember it and hold fast to the ideal of Christ's love for His Church. There is a crucifix hanging over our bed, to remind us that the more we try to resemble His self-giving love on the cross, the stronger and happier our marriage will be.

May 2010

The thought of all the years ahead for us is exciting. I'm still learning more about my husband, and know that I will be until the end of our days together.

Ten Years and counting!

I'm looking forward to the adventure. XOXO

Squeee!

I think all the essential family members have been informed by now, so it should be safe to post this:

Aren't Katie & Stefan the cutest? The starry-eyed newly-engaged look becomes them well. :) And I'm so happy it happened here in DC! It's come full circle -- I was staying at Katie's house when Mr. Pickles proposed to me.

We're so happy for them! They are SOOO good for each other, and now they have the joy of learning and growing together. It's such a pleasure to see someone I love so much so happy.
God bless you guys!

Okay, my turn.

Finally, all the gory details you've been waiting for!

First of all, I just want to say thank you to everyone for all your prayers. I'm convinced it was through them that Daniel's birth went as well as it did.

So, where to begin? I guess Monday afternoon -- I'm sure some of you might have noticed how increasingly cranky I was getting (as evidenced by a certain FB status update). I was feeling seriously out of it by Monday evening, although I attributed it to the fact that I didn't get my USRDA of afternoon nap. I had spent the day getting several things ready to mail, doing laundry, and generally tidying up -- but not with the deranged sense of haste I usually experience during that last-minute pre-labor nesting phase. (Just ask Mr. Pickles about our 4th anniversary.) By the time the kids were in bed, I was seriously drained and incapable of coherent thought. We all headed to bed early that night. I had a couple strong-ish contractions, some of which were early-labor-owchie-ish, but nothing different from Sunday night. I fully expected to pass another night like that -- being woken up a couple times before finally settling in to a good night's sleep. (ha!) Well, I did get woken up a couple times, by contractions that were easily classified as early-labor-owchie-ish (for all the moms out there, you know the kind that turn your belly rock hard and pull on your lower back), but I was always able to go back to sleep afterwards.

Finally at midnight I had a contraction, got up to use the bathroom (because again as you moms know contractions always push on your bladder), and lay down to go back to sleep, but couldn't -- I had another contraction 5 minutes later. I also felt restless (WARNING! WARNING! AWOOGA! AWOOGA!) and didn't feel like lying down anymore. So paced around upstairs, leaning on walls or doorways or counters whenever I had a contraction, rubbing my lower belly in between times -- it felt like Daniel's bony shoulders were about ready to pop through. During all this pacing I had a moment where I marveled at the strength of the contractions this "early" -- I was dreading the car ride to the hospital in this state of discomfort. Finally after an hour of regular, intense contractions, I woke Mr. Pickles up and gave him an update. He bolted out of bed (I will never cease to marvel how he manages to be fully upright before he's fully awake) and ran around getting dressed, while I went to use the bathroom one more time. This time I felt a really odd sensation during a contraction -- almost like I wanted to push a little with the contraction -- but I thought, "Oh, that's silly, it's way too early." (FOREBODING...) When I came out I gave Mr. Pickles direction for which bags I wanted brought downstairs and a couple other last-minute things. Then I went to kiss Miriam goodbye and let her know we were leaving for the hospital, and asked her to say a little prayer for us. She woke up a little and said goodbye groggily. Then I tried to go downstairs, but I kept having these short, extremely intense contractions. "Hm, that's weird -- and annoying," I thought as I leaned against the banister and groaned. I timed a couple -- they seemed to be coming 2 minutes apart. Uh oh, not good. I began to have visions of delivering the baby in the car en route to the hospital, as happened to some good friends of mine. (There's a curve on the Beltway they named "Mariah's Curve" in their baby's honor.)

Fortunately for me at this point, I was fully entering Laborland, that state of mind women achieve when all they can think about is labor, and petty details like where they are cease to matter. I finally managed to make it downstairs, where I heard Mr. Pickles on the phone with the OB. By that time I was having another contraction, so I leaned against the piano (good ol' piano! What a support you were to me in my time of travail!) and made a noise which Mr. Pickles recognized unmistakably as the signal of the end of transition, which is immediately followed by pushing. I did indeed feel the baby's head suddenly VERY low, along with the beginnings of the urge to push, so I went running to the bathroom because I knew my water was about to burst any second. (My housewife's instincts remained intact -- there was no way I was going to make a mess all over my beige carpet!) Sure enough I could feel the bulge from the bag of waters RIGHT THERE and ready to pop. By this time the contractions had slowed down so I was able to catch my breath and think a little more clearly, so I just laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and called to Mr. Pickles, "Guess what, hon? The baby's coming NOW!" I dimly heard his conversation with the OB suddenly shift gears as another contraction popped the bag of waters (all of which were happily contained, with not a drop on even the bathroom tile!).

Next followed a scene which from my vantage point made me chuckle at all the panic I was causing. I had full confidence in my body to birth this baby, thanks to our good Bradley training and 3 previous natural births, so I really wasn't worried. I was in the Zone, and in between pushes I was vaguely aware of Mr. Pickles and Aunt Katie running around in a frenzy, Katie encouraging me, Mr. Pickles throwing a HUGE armful of little rags into the bathroom while he called 911. Realizing that SOMEONE with a clear head needed to take charge I called out for a larger towel to wrap the baby in, and a dishpan to squat over (I was NOT going to deliver the baby into the toilet, ew). When these items arrived I squatted over the pan and found a position that was the most comfortable. (I know Mom B. asked me exactly how I squatted, but I cannot for the life of me describe it, since I don't know how I did it myself. I am not a good squatter -- I always get cramps in my legs -- but desperate times calls for desperate measures! And besides, it really was the most comfortable position to birth in.) I could feel the baby's head crowning almost right away. I noted with some satisfaction that it seemed to be as full a head of hair as our other babies. I also noticed that my skin seemed to be stretched awfully tight -- but it didn't really hurt, or maybe there was so much else going on that that was just one more sensation that wasn't able to compete.

At any rate, Mr. Pickles was right there, squatting down and supporting me, all the while giving updates to and relaying instructions from the EM person on the phone. At her insistence he and Katie lay a towel on the floor, and he was trying to encourage me to lie down on the towel -- I'm assuming to slow down the labor to wait for the ambulance to arrive. Now I'm laughing at myself because once again my stubbornness reared its head, as it did at Joseph's birth. Why in the world should I cause myself unnecessary discomfort just for the sake of some other person's convenience? I was perfectly happy and comfortable and in charge squatting over my little basin, tyvm. I even asked Mr. Pickles, "WHY do they want me to lie down?" For another thing, I just couldn't see how it was going to work logistically -- I had a baby head hanging partway out of me, for crying out loud! How was I supposed to move??

Finally, finally, ah blessed relief! I gave a couple gentle little pushes, and the baby's head popped out, quickly followed by the rest of his body. I should have had Mr. Pickles catch my gift to him, the fruition of his gift to me, but I guess we were all a little distracted at that point and not thinking very much about the philosophical side of things. So I actually held the baby's head while his body splashed down into the tub, along with everything else that comes when baby makes his grand entrance into the world. (And once again, mess contained! Go SuperHousewife!) I vaguely remember hearing Mr. Pickles exclaiming into the phone that the baby was born, while sirens wailed in the distance. The baby let out one little wail as I scooped it into my arms and wrapped it in a towel that magically appeared in my hands. I asked Mr. Pickles to check the baby's sex -- a boy! Another player for Daddy's team! I thought how happy Miriam would be. I turned off the bathroom light so the baby's eyes wouldn't be overwhelmed. He just cuddled in my arms and looked around, slightly dazed, small blame to him! He was so quiet that after a few moments I was worried about his breathing, so I blew gently on his face to trigger the inhalation reflex. Well, he did NOT appreciate that and let me know it in no uncertain terms, so that was a relief.

Just about this time -- not 2 minutes after splashdown -- the ambulance team arrived. This part is even more hazy, even 2 days after, because I was seriously pumped up on new mother's high. I do remember while they were all introducing themselves and asking questions someone suggested that the cord should be cut. I checked it and could still feel it pulsing, and didn't feel comfortable having it cut before the baby was done with it -- there's a HUGE transition that needs to happen in the baby's heart before he can breathe comfortably. But no one seemed to be in any hurry. One tech commented on the fact that the baby was pinking up nicely, although he still got a bulb syringe and (to my mind) hesitatingly attempted to suction out the baby's nose and mouth -- but I don't know if he even got anything out. I asked for another towel for the baby, since by this time the one he was wrapped in was pretty soaked and getting cold. Then I began to feel another gentle urge to push, so while the techs were talking amongst themselves I was able to pop the placenta out with no trouble. (Let me assure you, gentle readers, that there is nothing more romantic or spiritual about delivering the placenta by yourself in your own home than in the hospital. It's still bizarre and disgusting looking.) (Also, for some reason, the nurses in the hospital later seemed the most impressed by this. Really? Delivering a blubbery organ 1/3 the size of a bony baby is a big deal? Okay...) Finally the tech clamped and cut the cord with nary a word of protest from me.

Now, this whole time you may remember I had been squatting over my baby-catching basin, and as I'm sure you can imagine my legs were getting pretty tired. I was wondering how I could lower myself to the floor and not fall over. Even now I don't remember what I did -- but somehow I got positioned comfortably enough so I could give Daniel a chance to nurse for a few moments. He clamped right on with no problem. Eventually an ambulance bed magically materialized in the foyer, and I was encouraged to stumble over to it. Someone must have been holding the baby for me (Miriam says it was Mr. Pickles) as I managed to get up and hobble over. I was afraid of getting faint -- at the hospital the nurses are VERY nervous about you standing up right after the baby is born -- but actually I felt pretty good. I was most embarrassed about the mess I knew I was going to leave on the bed. It was at this point that I wondered whether I had torn or not -- no one seemed to be concerned enough to check, though, so I was assured that if I were in trouble they would let me know. As they were getting ready to wheel me to the ambulance I was trying to give Aunt Katie coherent instructions for what to do with the kids in the morning. I also commented after I lay down, "Oh, it's SOOO good to have a flat stomach again!" (Not that it's really flat yet -- but being Not Pregnant Anymore is so heavenly!) Finally the bed was bumped down the steps and into the ambulance, and various cords and wires and things were attached to the baby and me to check our vitals. Everything looked good, although my blood pressure was a little high -- but the techs said that was understandable considering the circumstances and they were willing to cut me a little slack. :)

Mr. Pickles was sitting in the ambulance with me, holding the baby, and the tech asked us what name we had picked. Before he was born we hadn't absolutely decided on a boy's name, since I was SO sure it was a girl. (My vibes deceived me!) But we had a couple names in various combinations, so when the tech asked, it was really Mr. Pickles who finally chose it -- Daniel James. We thought that the righteous man from the Old Testament who refused to compromise on religious principles in the face of political persecution, in addition to the first Apostle to be martyred, were good patrons to have in these times.

Well, that ambulance ride was something to be remembered. After Mr. Pickles left the ambulance to go inside and make a few quick phone calls before he followed in the van, Daniel and I were safely snuggled together and escorted in our chariot to the hospital where he was SUPPOSED to be born. Let me tell you, riding in an ambulance immediately after having given birth is not an experience I care to have repeated. It was basically about as comfortable as bouncing along in the back of a pickup truck along country roads. Thankfully the ride was short, since it was the middle of the night and the driver made good use of the siren. One of the techs commented on what a big night it was for little Daniel -- he got to ride in an ambulance within an hour of being born! Indeed, if Joseph knew that he missed seeing BOTH an ambulance AND a fire truck AT HIS HOUSE he would be inconsolable!

Finally we arrived and were wheeled up to our L&D room where I was met by my OB, who laughingly recounted her conversation with Mr. Pickles. She was amazed at how calm and matter-of-fact he sounded when he realized the baby was going to be born immanently. After I was cleaned up the doctor noted that I had torn, which surprised me a little since I hadn't felt any serious pain during or after the birth. Meanwhile an attending nurse had taken charge of Daniel, and she kept exclaiming over how big he was. I was expecting him to be around 8 lbs, which to me seemed large, compared to my other 7-lb. babies. When she weighed him I experienced my second shock of the night -- not only had I delivered my own baby at home, but I had delivered a 10 pound, 7 ounce bruiser in my own home! TEN stinkin' pounds!! At that point I felt sorry for my poor perineum and was willing to cut it some slack for having torn. The nurse kept measuring and marveling at Daniel's size. I kept thinking to myself, well no wonder I had felt so uncomfortable the last few weeks, and why at my last OB appt. the doc mentioned that I was measuring large! Sheesh.

After the doctor stitched me up and another nurse finished asking me a zillion questions, Mr. Pickles finally arrived. I was so glad to see him again -- I was especially glad when he finally had a chance to hold his boy. I got to nurse Daniel a couple times, and he drifted off into peaceful oblivion of all the commotion his hasty arrival had caused.

the tired, proud, dazed Papa

You know, I'd always been open to the idea of having a home birth. I like the thought of laboring at home, having the freedom to move around as I like without being Messed With, being the one in charge without having to worry about violating someone else's policy. I was always concerned with what came after, however -- what happens when the midwives leave and you're on your own? I feel that I got the best of both worlds this way -- the complete freedom of a home birth, with the security and convenience of a hospital stay! :)

So now we're all home -- I opted to leave a day early since Daniel and I were both doing so well, and I know the kids really wanted us home. They were completely enamored with him -- it's adorable seeing how tender Joseph is with him (in between pulling his hair, wiggling his ears, and honking his nose, that is).

And I am so, so, so thankful that everything went as well as it did. There are just so many variables at play in a birth that things could have gone sour very quickly. But I could feel Daniel moving around all through the labor; there was no meconium in the water; he came out very easily; the cord wasn't wrapped around anything; the placenta came out intact; I suffered only a 2nd-degree tear; the delivery was so quick (10 mins from the time the waters broke to his birth!) that he didn't have time to pick up any Group-B strep germs from me; he was able to breathe right away. I'm actually also grateful that he was born at home -- and not just for the reason that I'll be able to hold this over his head for the rest of his life -- he was SO BIG that I'm not sure how a hospital delivery would have gone. I don't know if I would have had so much freedom in choosing a delivery position. As it was I didn't notice how big he was b/c by squatting I was able to open my pelvis as wide as it could go, plus I had gravity on my side! I can't even imagine the agony that delivering on my back would have been.

The funny thing about all this, to me, is how awed people seem to be. I don't really feel like I did anything so spectacular (well, giving birth to a TEN POUND BABY is something) -- I just tried to keep up with the roller coaster that was Daniel's birth! Thankfully God has blessed me with a clear head in crises, so I was able to keep calm and take things as they came. I also had lots of preparation -- the Bradley classes before Miriam was born, 3 natural births of varying intensity, some last-minute childbirth prep reading (specifically Birthing From Within), plus those wacky dreams! So I was able to keep my head and laugh at the situation I found myself in.

Again, it's all due to God's grace and your prayers. Thank you, thank you so much to everyone who was praying for us. Know that you played an extremely important role in Daniel's birth too! I'm grateful to my darling husband for his ability to keep his head and take charge in a crazy situation. He is a most amazing man. I wouldn't have felt so confident without his strong presence, just knowing I could trust him to take care of us. I'm also thankful that Aunt Katie was with us -- she was rushing around helping to fetch things, and she was there to explain to an amazed Miriam what was going on. She also helped Miriam get back to sleep when all the commotion was over, and in the morning got all the kids up and dressed and ready to go so Mr. Pickles could sleep. Everyone should have an Aunt Katie!

Finally, I want to say an especial thank you to our dear friend Trish, who picked up the kids early Tuesday morning and kept them at her house and fed them and entertained them and sacrificed her 3yo's nap so Joseph could sleep at their house -- ALL ON HER BIRTHDAY!!! Trish, you are really one in a million and I'm so thankful for our friendship! We seriously owe you one.

So, some final stats:

Gestational Age: 40 wks, 4 days
Length of Active Labor: 1.5 hrs.
Date/Time of birth: June 15, 2010 at 1:34 am
Apgar: 7/8
Weight: 10 lbs., 7 oz. (TEN POUNDS!)
Length: 22"
Head: 14 1/4"
Chest: 14"
Mom: SO happy to be not pregnant anymore!

(more pictures to follow!)