COVID-19 Babies

Alright look, for all of you people during this global pandemic that have nothing better to do, I need you to read this post.

Before you decide to get too bored and start making babies, READ THIS POST.

So Sam has band practice tonight for our church and he had to rush to eat so he could get out of the house. So there I was, sitting with my two precious children waiting for them to finish their dinner when suddenly Campbell gives me “the look”. For all of you potential COVID-19 parents, this isn’t just any look. This isn’t the look you give the pizza delivery guy when he shows up at your house with your favorite pizza. This isn’t the look you gave your parents when you walked outside and saw your very first car in the driveway. And this DEFINITELY ain’t the look your husband gives you when he comes home after a week work trip. This is THE look- red face, furrowed brows, wrinkled nose. The look kids give their parents when they’re filling their diaper with a Cat 5 hurricane. He was almost done with his dinner so I decided to let him finish before I got him up.

WELL. I got Ezra out of his chair first (mistake #1) and then I got Campbell and as we’re walking to his room to change his diaper, I realize my shirt is suddenly soaked. My dumb self thinks, “Huh? That’s weird.” And then I set him on the changing table and realize he literally has poop coming up around the neck of his onesie. Well, I’ll be. How in the world am I going to weasel him out of this? He literally had poop from his neck to his toes. I retrieve the disgusting child from his dirty clothes and diaper and off we go to the bathroom only for him to splatter poop all over my legs and the floor. Cool. So now I’m also covered in poop as if it being on my shirt and arms wasn’t bad enough.

So I put my child in the tub and do what any sensible parent would do- pour about 975 gallons of water on him to rinse him off and then walk to the sink to start wiping poop off of me. Well I guess I missed some of the poop because when I turned around, he had poop smeared all over his face. So now we patiently wait for the pinkeye to come on and make a trip to the doctor.

Remember Ezra that’s just running rampant in the house by himself? Well that gem of a boy found all of the poop that apparently dripped off of Campbell from the kitchen to the bathroom and HE IS PLAYING IN IT. Like finger paint, but with poop- because why the heck not? What do I do? I run to him only to slip in a pile of poop that he apparently missed and I wipe out like my life depended on it. I ate it, y’all. I made a slipping slide in my house. There is mushy poop squishing between my toes. Cool. I get Ezra cleaned up enough to get ready for a bath when suddenly I realize I’m no longer just smelling Campbell’s poop, I’m also smelling Ezra’s poop (yes, I can literally tell the difference in their smells). Check Ezra’s diaper and WA-LA, another poopy diaper. At this point, I’m covered in poop again and have another diaper to change, so I just strip down right there to nothing but my undies because what else do I have to lose at this point?

I take Ezra to his room and every window is wide open because Sam wanted fresh air throughout the house- so shoutout to the man running by that saw me practically naked and acting like it was completely normal. Anyways, back to the story. I lay Ezra on the floor and realize the carpet is soaking wet because remember those windows Sam wanted open? Well he also wanted the sprinklers going in the front yard at the same time and didn’t think to close the windows so now I have a tsunami to clean up in Ezra’s room. But before that, let’s clean this poopy diaper, shall we? I get Ezra’s diaper undone when I hear Campbell choking on only God knows what in the next room so I run to him, get the pile of dog hair out of his mouth, and return to Ezra who has now stuck his hands in his poopy diaper and rubbed it all over his stomach because I didn’t close it up before I ran to check on my other child choking. Y’all, what in the Sam Hill?! ARE YOU EXHAUSTED YET BECAUSE I SURE AM?!

I got Ezra bathed and strapped both of these hoodlums in their chairs because I have to clean up the poop on my hardwood floors, the poop on Campbell’s carpet, the poop on Campbell’s changing table, the poop on the tile floor in the bathroom, dry up the soaked carpet in Ezra’s room, and take a shower because I’m still covered in poop.

Moral of the story?

1. Find a hobby. Do not make babies during this pandemic unless you’re ready for a pandemic within your own home on a daily basis.

2. Buy stock in wine because I’m about to buy every bottle on the shelf and that still won’t be enough.

3. When you see me in public in 900 years when this coronavirus mess blows over and you think to yourself that I look like a mad woman, MIND YA BUSINESS.

4. My entire house smells like a pile of manure so I’ll be scrubbing it from top to bottom until approximately 3:30 am.

Best regards, Megan Pement AKA Poop Clean Up Crew AKA Alcoholic in the Making AKA About to Go to Jail for Murdering My Husband

The Most Dreaded Day

For a lot of people, Mother’s Day is just another day and go on about their celebrations without missing a beat. And then there are those that have to force a smile and just try to make it through the day.

I’ve been on both sides.

I’ve been on the side that doesn’t know the loss of a child. The side that doesn’t know what it’s like to not have children. The side that doesn’t know about medications or shots to conceive a child. The side that doesn’t constantly go to the bathroom to check for bleeding after a positive test. The side that doesn’t know the heartache that suddenly floods your soul once you think you’ve moved on and then get a bill in the mail from your loss a year later. The side that hasn’t spent hours looking into adoption or fostering. The side that doesn’t have to dream about the what if’s and make believe fairytales of a family with children. But then I became a part of this side.

I’ve also been on the side that knows what it’s like to carry life and deliver two healthy babies.

I’m incredibly happy because I am a mother. I love my babies beyond any form of measure and I’m eternally grateful that I get to be their mother.

I also remember what it was like for me on Mother’s Day after having a few miscarriages. I rejoiced for those that knew the happiness I now feel- but I also cried in the shower for about an hour because my heart was filled with grief and an emptiness that will forever remain.

Every Christmas I hang an ornament on our tree that is in memory of our heavenly babes. And I cry every time I find it in the ornament box to hang. I cry for the lives that I created but never knew. I cry for the what if’s. I cry because I wouldn’t know Ezra and Campbell if those pregnancies had been successful. I cry because time doesn’t truly heal a broken heart- you just learn to deal.

And then there are the moms that held their babies and lost them due to tragedy. And for those moms… I have no words, because really and truly there just aren’t enough words or minutes in a day to ever take away that kind of gut wrenching pain.

So as you sweet mamas go about your Mother’s Day weekend, I challenge you this: stop and take a moment. Take a moment and truly think about what the day means and be thankful that you’re lucky enough to hold your precious babes. Take a moment and think about those mamas that never have or no longer hold their babies. Take a moment and think of those that always wanted the privilege to be a mama but never got that chance.

For some of us, it’s a Happy Mother’s Day. And for others of us, it’s the Most Dreaded Day. And for some of us, it’s both.

New Year, New Me?

I’ve never been much on New Year’s Resolutions. I’ve always thought if you didn’t like something about yourself then you should just change those things anytime rather than waiting for January 1st to roll around in efforts to better yourself.

But I got to thinking about my past year and the many topics that have bothered me throughout the year 2018 and I decided that maybe a new year with a new outlook wouldn’t be such a bad idea?

So here’s my try to a new me and things that ate me to my core or things that needed improvement in 2018:

1. Motherhood. Motherhood is the most rewarding and hardest thing in the history of ever. There were days that I would literally wish away in an effort to start over fresh tomorrow. Countless hours crying, feeling sorry for myself, overwhelmed, feeling like a failure, the list goes on and on. This year will only get harder as I will be throwing another babe into the mix, but this year I want to relish the moments, even the bad ones, and learn to love and nurture in what I believe to be a more “motherly manor”.

2. Marriage. My husband is amazing, there’s no question about that. But if one little thing didn’t go my way, or I felt unnoticed, or less than enough, or if I was told no then I shut down. I wanted him to step up in other ways as a father that I felt he should be doing but in reality he was doing more than his fair share in his own little way. We struggled with communication in 2018 than any other year of our marriage and it ATE. ME. ALIVE. I hated it. HATED IT. But I’m slowly but surely learning when to shut my mouth and give him space. He deserves the world’s greatest wife because he is truly the world’s greatest man.

3. Health/Wellness. Before my miscarriages I became super in tune with my body and developed a love for fitness. Unfortunately from miscarriage complications, I could no longer tolerate exercise and I’m the kind of idiot that resorts to food for comfort. I finally got back on the bandwagon a few months ago only to quickly be stopped by my excruciating hip pain. Y’all, this hip pain has been the most debilitating thing I’ve ever endured. I mean EVER. I tried many things to help it but all efforts failed. Today I went to the chiropractor for the first time for my hip pain and I left walking. My pain on a good day is usually a 6/10 but since my appointment today I have been a solid 2-3/10 and I feel like I am winning at life. I don’t know if this is temporary, but for the moment I have relief and I have been able to play with my baby and clean the gutters on our house! Please, hold the commentary on what I should and shouldn’t do. I want to love myself again and the way I feel and I’ll be darned if I rob myself of that this year.

4. Christianity. I have been a lousy Christian these past few months, really ever since Ezra was born. I don’t look forward to going to church, I don’t pray nearly as much as I used to, and I think negative thoughts about silly things a lot. I made myself feel better by primarily listening to Christian music, but it’s not the same thing as having a true relationship with Him. My faith and my beliefs have always been very important to me and the basis of my foundation, but I really let it slip in 2018. I focused on myself without help from Him and I promise you I felt it more than I’m happy to admit. This year my #1 goal is to strengthen my relationship with God because I need Him and I know everything else will fall back into place once I put Him back at the center of my life. I am not Mrs. Fix-It and how dare I think I am?

5. Depression. I have literally never admitted this to anyone before this blog, but in 2018 I was depressed. I struggled with feeling lonely, worthless, and not good enough for I can’t tell you how many months this year. Going back to motherhood, it is such an isolating feeling when you are basically a stay-at-home mom. Don’t get me wrong, I love that I am able to stay at home and be with my baby and I love that I get to raise my kid, but y’all let’s not sugar coat this topic. Being a stay-at-home mom is one of the loneliest things I’ve ever done in my life. You spend hours and hours with a human that obviously loves you more than anything in this world but can’t talk back to you, and doesn’t really interact with you for a long time. I am a social butterfly and I hungered for a conversation with someone. Going back to the marriage issue, my husband needs to come home and wind down after a long day of work and his way of winding down is not talking and being by himself for a little while. The two issues mixed together for me were like a fatal car crash. I began to lose who I was as a person. I began calling my mom for literally the dumbest reasons ever (and still do) so I can hear another voice respond back to me. I longed for the days I had to work because that meant I got to be around adults and they would speak to me!! What a concept! I tried talking to a few people about it and everyone said they understood what I was going through, and I believe they did to an extent, but there were days I literally didn’t want to go on because that meant I had to face my lonely reality. It brings tears to my eyes to reflect on these moments. But I will overcome this disease and I will be a happy person because I’ll be darned if I make myself, my husband, or my children take the beating for my self pity. I owe it to every single one of us to focus on my well-being and be the best Christian/wife/mother/friend WHATEVER I need to be.

Moral of the story? Maybe New Year’s Resolutions aren’t so bad. But I have to actually resolve problems rather than work on them for a few months and then give up because life got hard. And I need every single person that reads this blog to hold me accountable. If that’s only one person (and by one person I mean myself 😬), then by golly I’ll hold myself accountable! If anyone else is reading this, I’m here for you on your journey to better yourself and meet your goals as well!

So, with all that being said, what does your New Year, New You look like?

Holy Blogger

Ok, I’m just going to come out and say it: I CAN’T BELIEVE I STARTED A BLOG!  It’s something that has always interested me and something I’ve always wanted to do in the back of my mind, but didn’t really know what I would write about or who the heck would even read it.  Sam and I experienced our first miscarriage in December of 2016.  It was an ectopic pregnancy and really an overall strange experience.  It was crazy to me when we were suffering through a loss that it was so frowned upon to talk about.  People really avoided us and the whole conversation like we had the plague over something WE were going through.  We needed people but it was awkward for others to be a part of that experience.  I get it- I really do.  But the whole thing was strange to me so I decided as a way to cope with the experience and bring awareness to the situation that I would post about it on Facebook.  Y’all, the amount of people that were going through the same feelings and emotions was unreal.  People had been through the same thing, were going through the same thing, or had a fear of going through the same thing and really wanted to talk about it but were fearful of the social taboo surrounding the situation.

June 2017- Sam and I experienced another miscarriage.  This one wasn’t ectopic, but it was honestly worse than the first one because it came with more complications.  Again, I shared our experience on Facebook and got the same responses I had previously, except this time it was different.  I had people private messaging me about their experiences, calling/texting me because they just needing someone to talk to about their previous experiences, and others sharing our story with people they knew were going through the same thing.  It really became sort of a ministry within itself.  I’ve had personal conversations that even my husband and closest friends don’t know that I shared with other people because they reached out to me privately. Even with this experience and knowing I was helping others, I was so lost.  It was one of the darkest moments in my life and such a blessing at the same time.   My husband grew away from me.  He had never learned how to cope with any of the miscarriages and his way of dealing with them was acting like they never happened and pretty much shutting down.  Y’all, my goodness that was hard.  But I finally got through to him, we talked it out,  prayed SO hard, and once again I realized that this was something other people had faced through their miscarriages.

What I learned through the process was that we weren’t the first people to experience these emotions and heartache.  But we were, well really just me, just a few of the people willing to speak up on the topic and make it real.  It was such a vulnerable experience, but the amount of people who benefited from our story was so worth it.

But guess what folks?  The plot thickens- we are now 26 weeks pregnant with a healthy baby boy!  I will never forget how angry/terrified/excited/confused I felt when I saw the positive result come up shortly after our last miscarriage.  My husband sat there with me while I peed on the stick.  The anticipation was killing me so much that I didn’t even wait the full three minutes before checking to see if there were two pink lines on that test.  It was an obvious positive pregnancy test and I began to shake all over.  I looked at my precious husband and he knew the answer immediately.  We sat there- him on the side of the tub and me still on the toilet- and held each other and cried tears of happiness and hurt.  Well here we are months later, I’m still carrying my precious babe, and I’ve made some lifestyle changes.  I became a crazy granola mom.

So now that we’ve been through the back story, let’s go back to the original question- why did I start a blog?  During those hard times, people would tell me time and time again, “You should start a blog!”  I thought they were crazy, so I ignored it.  Fast forward to our healthy pregnancy; I became obsessed with Young Living’s products and began posting about them on Instagram and Facebook.  My sister  randomly said one day, “I can see you having a blog.” Again, I laughed it off.  And then my best friend, Alli, sent me a screenshot of my hashtag #blameitonmycrunchysoul and texted #instablogger.  We joked about it for a little while and then she said I should seriously do one to show people how to use the products for people like her that don’t know how to use them.  So here we are.

Ladies & Gents, I now present to you: Blame It On My Crunchy Soul.

I Want Your Holiday Traditions!

Growing up, we had holiday traditions but I didn’t realize they were traditions until I was older. I always thought, “It’s how we’ve always done it.” The biggest holiday with traditions that I remember are Christmas.

Here’s what I remember:

1) We always used the stockings my Aunt Kaye made for us. They were beautiful and fun!

2) Christmas Eve was always at Grandmother and Sonny’s house. They would always prepare a fun dinner and we would open gifts with music playing in the background.

3) We would come home and open our gifts from our parents and my mom and dad would exchange gifts.

4) We would go home and scrounge around for cookies to leave out for Santa. And SOMETIMES we were even prepared enough to bake some. 😂

5) Christmas morning was for Santa presents and then we would go to Nana and Pawpaw’s and eat either lunch or dinner that they prepared. Most of the time my aunt, uncle, and cousins were there for food, but we ALWAYS waited for them to open gifts. It was so fun.

Then we moved from MS to FL and a lot of things changed, but a few remained the same: Christmas Eve was for gifts from Mom and Dad; Santa came on Christmas morning; and we used the stocking Aunt Kaye made.

Fast forward to the Christmas before Sam and I got married. I’ve always LOVED How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I love the book, the movies, anything to do with it. For whatever reason I asked my mom to buy me the book for Christmas that year so she did. I soaked up everything about that Christmas because I knew it was the last one I’d have with my parents before Sam and I started our own things. With that being said, I asked my mom to read the book to me on Christmas Eve while I laid in bed going to sleep. The crazy lady read that book to me at 21 years old. 😂😂 I love that memory so much that Sam reads that book to me every Christmas Eve.

Since Sam and I got married we’ve started a few of our traditions. They include:

1) Like previously mentioned, he reads me How the Grinch Stole Christmas every Christmas Eve.

2) We use Christmas stockings that were given to us by his Aunt Diana. Sam has used his since he was born, I was gifted mine when we got married, and we were gifted on for Ezra and Campbell. I believe she even made some of them herself.

3) Our first Christmas as a married couple, we attended the Christmas Eve service at our church. I never thought about what we would do for dinner that night (#newbrideprobs) and I knew I couldn’t let my poor husband go home and eat a sandwich on Christmas Eve, so we swung through the Popeye’s drive through by our house and ordered regular and spicy fried chicken. We have continued this tradition every Christmas Eve. I absolutely love it because it reminds me of “simple times”.

4) Every year since we started dating, we squeeze into a car with us, Josh, and Alli and go look at Christmas lights while drinking hot chocolate with Bailey’s. Whoever is driving or pregnant at the time is the poor unfortunate soul to get just straight up hot chocolate.

Now that we have kids, I want to do more fun traditions! Let me hear your fun traditions! What do you and your family do to celebrate the holidays?

Badge of Honor

Raise your hand if you’ve ever been personally victimized by Regina George (Jk 🙈). But seriously- raise your hand if you’ve ever been personally victimized by yourself. 🙋‍♀️ I’ve got my hand held high. I should really be waving both of them around like a crazy woman.

Personal info coming at ya live in 5…4…3…2…1…

Before I got pregnant with Ezra, I weighed 137 lbs. Birth weight was 174. And weight as of yesterday was 153. Obviously I gained more than I was supposed to and I still have several pounds to lose before I reach my pre-pregnancy weight… 16 lbs. to be exact and boy if I haven’t reminded myself daily. I also had zero stretch marks on my tummy my entire pregnancy. One week postpartum I lost 21 lbs. and gained a tummy full of stretch marks due to rapid weight loss. I was ecstatic about the weight loss but completely devastated by my new stripes.

Will my husband still find me attractive? Will I ever wear another two piece bathing suit? Will people judge me or be disgusted when they see them? Will Ezra one day ask me why I have those funny looking lines on my tummy when other people don’t?

These are questions I have asked myself time and time again. And they’re questions I’ve battled in my head over and over. And they are questions that need answers.

Will my husband still find me attractive? He assures me often that I’m beautiful- now I have to accept his uplifting comments for what they truly are and believe them. Will I ever wear another two piece bathing suit? Eventually. Not today, not tomorrow, and next week isn’t looking so promising either, but I’m working daily to get there. Will people judge me or be disgusted when they see them? Of course. There will always be someone who’s never been there or known someone with stretch marks and I can promise you someone will judge me. How do I know? Because I’ve been that person and I’m disgusted by myself for ever judging someone for being less than “perfect.” Will Ezra one day ask me about the funny lines on my tummy? I am 100% positive that the day will come and I’m honestly excited to tell him about them.

My stripes tell a story. They tell the story of what it took for me to bring life into this world. They tell the story of the heartache I went through to get here. They tell the story of how a woman’s body is able to do miraculous things. They tell the story of how I earned my stripes for my little man cub.

My stripes bring opportunity. The opportunity to overcome my fears. The opportunity for the world to view those with “imperfections” differently. The opportunity for me to teach Ezra that women come in many shapes, sizes, and patterns and that he is to love and respect them regardless of their appearance.

My body isn’t the same and it never will be. My boobs aren’t cute and perky anymore because they’ve sustained life. My tummy isn’t tight and it’s stamped with marks because it carried a life. I officially have a mom bod and I’m in the process of learning to be dang proud of it. My stripes are my badge of honor and I’ve more than earned them.

Tsunami Ezra

Ok y’all. So there I was, lying in bed missing my little babe even though he was asleep in his rocker literally right next to the bed. All I wanted was to snuggle him and kiss the top of his sweet head. I tell my husband who then proceeds to tell me to pick him up. So like an idiot I listen to him and pick up my sleeping baby because I have no idea what’s coming next.

After picking up Ezra, I noticed his diaper was wet and needed to be changed so I take him to the changing table to do a quick diaper change. Wrong. I took off his wet diaper and stupidly let my guard down for 2.25 seconds only to look back at him and notice he’s peeing everywhere. Literally everywhere. Kid is straight up peeing in his face, it’s running down behind his head and soaking his hair, and his onesie is soaked. So I did what any mom would do and I just throw a diaper at him like I’m putting out a grease fire. If you’re ever put in this situation, I don’t recommend this method because the pee was just splashing off of the diaper and splattering all over him. Moving on.

So I strip down my kid and carry him to the bathroom butt naked and tell him not to crap in my hand on the way. Well apparently he’s a good listener because he did not poop on me. We make it to the bathroom and I’m sitting on the toilet holding him waiting for the water to warm up when suddenly my BUTT NAKED baby starts peeing. AGAIN. So here’s a little secret into my personal life. I spend 90% of my time at home with a nursing bra and no shirt on because this kid eats more than a 900 lb. man, so don’t just show up at my house because I won’t have a shirt on. 🤷🏼‍♀️ #momlife (am I right?!) Anyways, he pees all over himself and me this time. He soaks my bra, my belly, and he even manages to somehow pee into my mouth. I’m dead y’all. Now I also need a shower. The water finally gets warm enough so I put him in there and start bathing him when suddenly he rips one in the tub. I instantly snatch him out of the tub and sit him on the toilet like a grown man and allow him to let it all out. He obviously didn’t appreciate my efforts because he starts screaming. I get him back in the tub and get him all clean and then Sam takes him to the changing table to put his diaper on him. Once again we didn’t make it in time and now he has peed all over Sam. Cool. So now Sam and I both need a shower.

I finally get the naked baby dressed and he’s hungry so I feed him. Well wouldn’t you know that he spits up all over me when eating? I mean why not? It’s dripping down my body, it’s on my pillow, it’s on the sheets, and all over his face and body. *slams face into the wall 917 times +1 more just to make sure I’m feeling good and dead*

So I learned some valuable lessons today:

1. Don’t ever wake a sleeping baby because you feel like snuggling.

2. Don’t ever listen to your husband because men don’t know anything.

3. Don’t ever take for granted the peepee teepees you were given to prevent these situations from ever happening.

So if you have a baby boy or have one on the way, get you some off these fine boogers. Greatest invention ever link here. They have disposable ones that you can buy, or you can buy these and be good to the environment.

Now I’m going to go finally cook dinner and then go to bed with all the bodily fluids I’m wearing and just skip the shower because that’s who I am as a person. Here’s to you, Tsunami Ezra. Here’s to you. 🍻

Megan out. ✌🏻

Massage Yo Baby!

I’m not going to lie, I only bought one book during my pregnancy and only read one chapter. If you read tons of books during your pregnancy, good for you. I’m not that kind of person and really just wanted to wing the whole thing. After Ezra was born, I realized the value behind having somewhat of a routine and remembering that book had several sections to help establish a routine. So I picked up the book that I bought and read the sections on routines so I would have some guidance in making my own.

The author of the book suggested bathing your baby every night and and then giving your baby a massage to comfort him before bed. We started doing that and I remember I bought some baby massage oil prior to Ezra’s arrival. He LOVES this massage oil. Idk what it is about the oil, but he coos and is way more relaxed than with any lotion we have used- even lotion that has lavender in it. I love this oil because its ingredients are 100% natural and plant based and easily absorb into the skin without leaving a greasy residue. Score.

I also did a lot of research on baby massages just to see what the benefits really are of massaging your baby every night. There are many benefits for both baby AND mom (or dad, or whoever is doing the massage). Baby massages promote physical, developmental, and emotional health for infants. The physical touch promotes bonding and physical attachment between mom and baby. The soothing effects of the massage assists with weight gain and overall growth because it reduces cortisol levels (stress hormone) which encourages good eating habits and longer periods of sleep in babies. Let me say it a little louder for the people in the back- IT PROMOTES LONGER PERIODS OF SLEEP! Enough reason for me to jump on ship. Infant massage is so important and so heavily researched that 38% of NICUs perform daily massages on preterm babies in order to promote weight gain and decrease hospital stays by 3-6 days. The recommended time is 15 minutes/ day. Urm hello, positive research here people!

So here is how our nightly routine goes: bathe Ezra at 9 pm, give him a massage with Young Living’s Seedlings Baby Oil, put on pajamas, drink a bottle of mommy’s finest milk, sit up for 20 minutes after eating to reduce spit up, and then go to bed. He only wakes up once in the night to eat and the time is getting closer and closer to us waking up in the morning. Last night he didn’t wake up until 4:50 in the morning and he’s only 5 weeks old. The research has proven itself to be true and I’m taking it as a parenting win!!!

If you have baby oil, try it! If not and want to try some, here’s the link of the stuff I recommend: Seedlings Baby Oil

Moral of the story? MASSAGE YO BABY!

My Unsung Hero

I have learned many things as a new mother. I’ve gone back and forth on which I thought was more important: patience or recognition.

Sure- patience is super important. You need patience learning the different cries of your newborn, patience receiving unwanted advice from whoever, patience watching people who feel the need to be the one to soothe your baby and it’s not working, patience in your ability as a mother, the list is endless. But I’ve just about decided that recognition is the most important. Maybe that’s because it’s rarely done but well deserved?

My sweet husband is my unsung hero. Does he frequently lack patience and understanding? Of course he does, we all do. But what he lacks he makes up tenfold. He’s hard to wake up and values his sleep more than what seems humanly possible to someone like me that easily runs on zero sleep, but he’s willing to get up when Ezra cries to change him so I can get five more minutes of sleep before I feed him. He works 5 days a week and comes home and works on his Advocare business so I can stay home with the baby if I want to. He takes the baby away from me at 1 am when I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom and need to be admitted to a psych ward so I can lie down and relax. He tries to stay awake or watch tv with me during 3 am feedings. He comes home for lunch everyday just to love on his baby boy and give me the opportunity to nap. He is our spiritual leader and constantly prays over us and for us because prayer brings a spiritual awakening and is valuable to God. He keeps my water filled and makes sure my snack supply doesn’t run dry so I can have the necessary nutrients to produce milk for our babe. He pushed me during school and helped me finish my BSN because he knew how important it was to me.

The list could literally go on and on without ever ending. He loves me for me and I love him for him. He does all of these things without expecting any recognition or anything in return. He is my sanity in the darkness.

And for those reasons, you deserve the world and so much more. I respect you and adore you more than you’ll ever know. Sam Pement, you are my unsung hero.

Birth Story

Many people have asked about our “birth story.”  Well, our baby boy will be 3 weeks tomorrow (excuse me while I go cry), so I guess it’s time to finally share.

new fam

Thursday, April 12 at about 3 pm I was sitting in my mom’s office when suddenly I thought my water broke.  I tried calling my husband only for him to be in a meeting, so I texted one of his coworkers to try to get him out of the meeting and he succeeded.  In the meantime, my mom and dad took me to the L&D triage.  The nurse swabbed me to check for amniotic fluid only to say it came back negative.  The strip was turquoise and she said it needed to be blue- look lady, I don’t know much about baby nursing, but come on!  How blue are we looking for here?!  Anyways, they hooked me up to a monitor and I was having contractions every 4 minutes, but I wasn’t dilated at all.  They sent me home.

I continued leaking the “said fluid” for the rest of the night and my contractions began to pick up.  Sam kept begging me to go to the hospital but I didn’t want to go until I knew I was far enough along that they had to admit me.  The next morning at about 0730 I couldn’t handle the contractions any longer so I told Sam it was time to go.  Wouldn’t you know after begging me to go all night and me finally telling him I was ready that he had to finish doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen first?!  Men

We finally get to the hospital after driving through 0800 traffic.  Y’all, if they tried to send me home they were going to have to call a Manpower because my pregnant butt was NOT leaving.  They take me straight to L&D triage and hook me up to the monitor.  I’m having contractions every 2-3 minutes lasting 1-2 minutes long.  Luckily my OB was already on the floor so he came in to check on me.  He immediately said, “Well you look like someone in labor!” I’m thinking to myself YEH NO KIDDING! ADMIT ME FOOLS! He checks me and I’m 3 cm. HALLELUJAH!  He admitted me.

They take me to my room and within an hour I went from 3-8 cm.  I went in thinking I didn’t want an epidural, but I progressed so quickly that I couldn’t calm myself down.  The nurse told me they may not be able to get me an epidural because of how dilated I was and I had yet to have the required fluid bolus needed prior to getting an epidural.  Pain meds were also questionable at this point because of potentially harming the baby.  My nurse started the fluid bolus and called anesthesia anyways.  They agreed to do it. PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW!!!! By the time they finished the epidural I was complete.  The doctor checked me and told me to get ready to push.  Wait, what?  This epidural hasn’t even kicked in yet?!  45 minutes later the epidural kicked in (and by kicked in I mean I could still feel and completely move my legs but the contractions were bearable) so we started pushing.  Four babies were born that Friday and there were only 3 nurses on the floor.  Know what that means?  The director of the floor and my husband helped me push.  Poor guy. He thought he was going to stand at the top of the bed and hold my hand the whole time. Instead, he got himself a front row seat. Love you, mean it. At one point, there was a baby being born and their heart rate was dropping, so the director had to temporarily leave to help the nurses in the other room.  DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?!  That means it’s just Sam and me pushing and praying to God Ezra doesn’t decide to come while she’s gone.

Y’all, I pushed for 2.5 hours.  TWO AND A HALF HOURS!!!!!!! Ezra’s head was too big and just wouldn’t come out (thanks, Sam for having a huge head).  They cut me three different times  and I only knew they started cutting me because suddenly Sam’s face completely changed and he just stared at me with the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen.  And then sweet little Ezra Hayes was finally born.  I was exhausted.  Dead.  Pooped.  But as soon as they sat that little 8 lb. 3 oz. baby on my chest, nothing else mattered and our hearts were full.  And apparently so was Ez’s tummy because he immediately crapped on my chest.  Thanks bud.  But I still didn’t care.  My brand spanking new baby couldn’t do anything but just stare at me for an entire hour and I couldn’t do anything but stare back.  I was in love.  I was experiencing a new love.  A new love for my new child, a new love for my amazing husband, and a new love for myself because I’m a freaking champion (and obv. humble).

So here he is world, almost 3 weeks later.  Our perfect baby boy.  Ezra Hayes Pement.


Prayers for forgiveness

I had to do the unthinkable today. Many of you know the journey Sam and I have been on to bring our precious blessing into this world. Obviously we experienced a lot of pain and heartache just as any person would that struggles with issues of miscarriages, infertility, loss of a child, etc. But we’ve also dealt with something I never thought would be an issue. There are people out there battling their own struggles and they are angry with our success. It’s nothing personal towards us, they are just going through the motions and unfortunately our happiness is a vessel of sadness towards others who haven’t had our success. I was ok with this for a long time because I know the emotions they are experiencing. Sam and I were never personally angry with anyone when they had successful pregnancies because it wasn’t their fault that we weren’t, but unfortunately people cope differently and people struggle differently. We have been the root of people’s anger and I finally found myself angry about it this morning. Maybe it’s the surge of pregnancy hormones I’ve been experiencing, but I felt the rage and hate towards another person. Y’all, I realized I’m no better than them if I react this way. I have been praying for these couples for months that they will feel a sense of peace cover them, but this morning I had to pray for peace over myself. I was angry. I was humiliated. I could not believe that my happiness and success could possibly be ruined by someone else’s anger and jealously. I’m thankful I experienced this surge of emotions because it really has brought a new light in me. So today I did the unthinkable. I forgave them for hating me. I forgave myself for hating me because I have what they so desire. I forgave myself for judging someone because they judged me. But most importantly, I forgave myself for ever thinking for a dang second that I don’t deserve this sweet child. The only thing I can do from this point on is continue to pray for peace and comfort in their lives and raise my son to be the abundant blessing he is in our lives. We are so thankful for this opportunity. Today I experienced a moment of weakness. Today I experienced a moment that will change the way I react to other’s feelings towards me. Today I experienced a very valuable lesson. I ask that you all lift up these anonymous names with me as they seek a sense of calmness and peace with their struggles.

Wash away my guilt and cleanse me from my sin

– Psalm 51:2