A week has gone by since our Roscoe's birth, and I must say that I still feel like I'm dreaming. It's just taking forever to wake up. Am I really a mom? Is there really a little baby boy dependent on me for his food? Is this little one really a living combination of Mark and me? Is the love of my life really lying next to me right now with our son sleeping on his chest?
Yes we have had to adjust. Yes we have already wanted to pull our hair out when Roscoe's crying seems inconsolable. Yes I do miss being able to channel all of my attention to my husband. But I'm sitting here typing this listening to little baby coos and sighs as he drifts off into that deep deep baby sleep and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Mark is the best. He's so willing to help me in any way. I've already heard multiple times from him (something like) "I obviously can't feed him, only you can satisfy that need. But anything else I can do. Let me help. He's our responsibility, not just yours."
But the oddest thing to me is that everything looks different now. I know I'm seeing through the same eyes that I had 10 days ago, but now it's just.......different. When I get up and walk through the house, it doesn't look the same that it did weeks ago. And that has nothing to do with the cleanliness of each room. Today I went to Target while Mark was home with Roscoe. And even that quick errand seemed so different. A simple errand I've made dozens of times changes when it's done through the eyes of a mother. The roads have changed, the store has changed, my car has changed. Everything. It almost feels like when you've moved to a new area and are having to acclimate to your new surroundings. Only you know exactly where you are.
Hmmm..... This doesn't sound like it makes too much sense. Maybe there are some mothers out there who can agree or expound more proficiently than I can. Or maybe it just really is hard to describe. Maybe it's motherhood.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Roscoe's birth story
This will probably be long and very detailed. Enjoy the read, if you're willing to stick through the whole thing. I've been meaning to get a post up about the labor process, but it's been difficult to get the time to (which I find ironic, since I've spent more time on the couch in the past 3 days than I have in years). Roscoe is trying to figure out the art of eating, and he's a hungry boy. Honestly I feel like all my time is spent trying to nurse him. I know we'll both figure it out here soon, so I'm not too down about it.
So, I'm going to start with last Thursday, the 10th. I was at Andy and Beth's house and went to the bathroom. (Insert here that I'm not afraid to share details, so if you get grossed out, it's not my fault, I'm not forcing you to read) :) When I was finished I noticed that there was bloody show on the toilet paper. Basically meaning I had lost the mucus plug that plugs up the cervix during pregnancy. A little bit of reality hit me when I contacted Elizabeth (my midwife) and her response was nothing short of elated. She told me that generally, it's 24-72 hours after you lose that that labor begins. This was around 7 pm Thursday evening, Mark was still in PA and potentially not going to get back until Saturday morning. I immediately told him and he was in gear to try to get back asap. Elizabeth told us it'd be best to not chance him missing it.
So, Friday, the 11th. Mark got away from PA around 9am. He'd be home in about 11 hours. Murphy's law kicked in around VA and the 4runner broke down. At this point I'd been having light contractions. They weren't by any means timable or intense, but contractions nonetheless. This was 4 pm. I immediately turned into an emotional train wreck and was minutes short of getting in the car and going to get him myself until family stepped in and helped. Mom told me she'd come spend the night with me. I told her she didn't have to, but moms know best. And I'm glad she told me she was doing it no matter what I thought. Because.....
Saturday morning, the 12th, at 1:30am a contraction woke me up. It was more intense than the others. Mine and Mark's dads had gone up Friday night to retrieve the 4runner, and Andy and Ben drove up separately to get Mark. I tried to go back to sleep after the contraction faded, but they kept coming and I decided to get up at 3am.
So when I say that I was in labor for 23 hours, the start time I'm talking about is that 1:30am contraction.
Mom and I immediately started getting everything ready for the birth. Mom moved the furniture around and blew up the birthing pool. I did some stuff here and there but really mom was getting everything we needed set out while I worked through contractions.
Things started getting more difficult and I called Elizabeth around 5:30 am. I told her what I was feeling and how things were progressing. She said that most likely since I was the one calling and not mom, I was probably fine to continue laboring on my own. Once I got "in a zone" and someone else had to call, that's usually the time the midwives decide to come over.
I tried to rest as much as possible.
Mark got home around 6 am. I cried on his shoulder for a minute. The emotions involved in that moment that he walked through the door were incredible. Here is our reunion, after 6 weeks of separation, interrupted by sharp contractions that make me double over. If I were to think about it too much, I'd let myself have a pity party that our reunion was so sucky. BUT, God answered many hundreds and hundreds of prayers by just letting Mark walk through that door in time to help me through the birth of our son. We both hugged mom and thanked her immensely for staying with me and getting things ready. She left.
This is where things get a little fuzzy for me. While it was a homebirth, there's still an element where I felt kind of drugged. The labor as a whole I remember, but the little details about what happened when are a blurr.
I told Mark to call Elizabeth. I was ready for them (them being Elizabeth and her apprentice, Jenn). I guess they came over between 7 and 8 am. We got the birthing pool ready and Jenn checked me. I was completely thinned out and what we thought was 7 cm. What we didn't know was that the 7 cm was incorrect. Elizabeth didn't check behind Jenn and she was mistaken. (Insert here that I was in NO WAY frustrated at Jenn for the mistake. Apparently, especially in first time mothers, the cervix flexes easily and can be pushed out of the way, so what felt like 7 cm was in reality less than 5.) The problem this created is that typically, going into the birthing pool before you're at 6 cm will significantly slow the labor process. Since we thought I was at a 7, I went in. Even though the contractions continued, the water slowed things down.
I don't know what time it was, but I got the urge to push. Roscoe's head was only about an inch inside me. He was waaaaaaaay down there. After however long of pushing with no progress, Elizabeth checked me and gave the bad news that I was only at 5 cm. I had to get out of the pool. They decided to give us some privacy, so they left to make another homevisit and told us to call if we needed them back. The urge to push was due to Roscoe being so low, even though I wasn't dilated all the way.
Once my contractions were lasting no less than 4 minutes long with a break of maybe 30 seconds between each, Mark called Elizabeth back. I was in agony. Reaching the "get this thing outta me" point.
I honestly can't recall if I went back in the birthing pool or not. But I know that the next time Elizabeth checked me, I was at 7 cm. I started to feel really helpless. All this work, 4 minute long contractions, and I'm not even to the transition part of labor yet? (8-10 cm, the most intense part of opening up). They stayed for a while and I wasn't making much progress, so Elizabeth told us they were going to leave but stay close. She really believed I labored better without them there, and Mark agreed. So they were gone.
I was told to get some rest (I was functioning off an hour and a half of sleep), but at this point it was impossible. I had to get up and move around. So Mark went to bed to try to rest some while I walked around the house and sat/rolled around on the exercise ball. I took a shower and once I got out, the contractions were so intense I felt I couldn't make it through them. I started getting shaky and I threw up. And I got the urge to push again. Mark called them back.
I worked through a bunch of non-stop contractions, trying to relax through each, but it was so hard. The natural reaction is to tense up. I got back in the pool and all I remember is hitting a point where I HAD to push. I absolutely couldn't wait any longer. I didn't even tell Elizabeth and Jenn, I just started doing it. They were in the kitchen and ran into the living room to get suited up for the delivery. It was around 9:30 pm.
Hours later--yes--hours--Elizabeth decided to check me to see if maybe there was a little lip of the cervix that was stuck. She checked and what do you know but I'm only 8 cm. I felt like I couldn't take any more news like that. I was functioning off an hour and a half of sleep, and I hadn't had anything to eat since Friday night. This was Saturday late night. She said there were 2 options: I could get out of the pool and labor through contractions letting them open my cervix up, or she could force it open as I was pushing during the next contraction.
Hmmmm.... Would you rather have your thumbnail or your big toenail ripped off?
I thought about it for a minute and decided to let her force it open. I had already been pushing for hours and didn't want to mentally or physically backtrack to just letting the contractions do their own work. It was too much of a relief to push. So the next contraction, as I pushed, she was using her fingers to force my cervix all the way around Roscoe's head.
It was still a while, but progress was made. I got out of the pool to push on the couch in different positions. Then once enough progress was made, I got back in the pool and pushed using more different positions. The water definitely eased the pain.
Elizabeth, Jenn, and Mark were all excellent in encouraging me and praising me for making progress. I didn't feel like I was because I couldn't see what was going on. But I hit a point where I was determined to get him out. I gave myself 3 contractions to get him to the point where he was crowing and I could see him. It worked. I looked down in the midst of hearing all the "excellent"s and "good job, anne marie"s to see the top of his head. I screamed "I can see him!!!!" and then the contractions kept coming stronger and closer. It was no time until I felt his head coming out. All at once, it literally popped out and she unwrapped the cord from his neck (this is a very common occurance in almost all babies). I gave it one more push for his shoulders to come out and suddenly the rest of him just slipped out of my body and I was being handed my little Roscoe. February 13, 2011. 12:20 am. Welcome, Roscoe Porter Grant.....
I don't think I cried. I was just in shock, as you can see from that bottom picture. I couldn't stop gasping and looking at that little face covered in that cheesy vernix. And the best part, Roscoe couldn't stop looking at me either. We sat there in the pool for 15 minutes maybe just looking at each other. Here's the little one that had been growing inside my body for 9 months, looking into my eyes. He knew who I was, I could tell by the way he stared. And Mark was right there with us the whole time. It was perfect.
I did have quite a bit of bleeding after the placenta was delivered. I got 2 shots of pitocin to combat it and it was followed by some sort of pill that I can't remember the name of. By the way, the placenta was HUGE. Enormous. At least I know I was giving him enough nutrients during the pregnancy :)
Mark bonding with his son while Elizabeth and Jenn tended to me.
Newborn exam
The measurement Mark is most proud of: the chest size. Forget length and weight. Roscoe came out with a 14.5 inch chest measurement. Elizabeth said the biggest she's seen is 15.
Getting the weight. 8 lbs 9 oz. 22.5 inches long.
So the reason for the complicated labor........... Roscoe came out posterior. Instead of his back facing out, his back was positioned toward my spine. So he had it backwards. Creating some terrible back labor. Also, instead of having his chin tucked into his chest, he was trying to look up as he was coming out. Consequently, I pushed for 3 hours and he had a gigantic bump on his head that looked like a tumor. The swelling went down that night but he has a bruise from it. These factors are what contributed to a labor that was looooong and really had no pattern.
But he's here. And yes, for the curious ones. Our future children will be born at home as well. Wouldn't trade homebirths or midwives for anything. They were incredible...
So, I'm going to start with last Thursday, the 10th. I was at Andy and Beth's house and went to the bathroom. (Insert here that I'm not afraid to share details, so if you get grossed out, it's not my fault, I'm not forcing you to read) :) When I was finished I noticed that there was bloody show on the toilet paper. Basically meaning I had lost the mucus plug that plugs up the cervix during pregnancy. A little bit of reality hit me when I contacted Elizabeth (my midwife) and her response was nothing short of elated. She told me that generally, it's 24-72 hours after you lose that that labor begins. This was around 7 pm Thursday evening, Mark was still in PA and potentially not going to get back until Saturday morning. I immediately told him and he was in gear to try to get back asap. Elizabeth told us it'd be best to not chance him missing it.
So, Friday, the 11th. Mark got away from PA around 9am. He'd be home in about 11 hours. Murphy's law kicked in around VA and the 4runner broke down. At this point I'd been having light contractions. They weren't by any means timable or intense, but contractions nonetheless. This was 4 pm. I immediately turned into an emotional train wreck and was minutes short of getting in the car and going to get him myself until family stepped in and helped. Mom told me she'd come spend the night with me. I told her she didn't have to, but moms know best. And I'm glad she told me she was doing it no matter what I thought. Because.....
Saturday morning, the 12th, at 1:30am a contraction woke me up. It was more intense than the others. Mine and Mark's dads had gone up Friday night to retrieve the 4runner, and Andy and Ben drove up separately to get Mark. I tried to go back to sleep after the contraction faded, but they kept coming and I decided to get up at 3am.
So when I say that I was in labor for 23 hours, the start time I'm talking about is that 1:30am contraction.
Mom and I immediately started getting everything ready for the birth. Mom moved the furniture around and blew up the birthing pool. I did some stuff here and there but really mom was getting everything we needed set out while I worked through contractions.
Things started getting more difficult and I called Elizabeth around 5:30 am. I told her what I was feeling and how things were progressing. She said that most likely since I was the one calling and not mom, I was probably fine to continue laboring on my own. Once I got "in a zone" and someone else had to call, that's usually the time the midwives decide to come over.
I tried to rest as much as possible.
Mark got home around 6 am. I cried on his shoulder for a minute. The emotions involved in that moment that he walked through the door were incredible. Here is our reunion, after 6 weeks of separation, interrupted by sharp contractions that make me double over. If I were to think about it too much, I'd let myself have a pity party that our reunion was so sucky. BUT, God answered many hundreds and hundreds of prayers by just letting Mark walk through that door in time to help me through the birth of our son. We both hugged mom and thanked her immensely for staying with me and getting things ready. She left.
This is where things get a little fuzzy for me. While it was a homebirth, there's still an element where I felt kind of drugged. The labor as a whole I remember, but the little details about what happened when are a blurr.
I told Mark to call Elizabeth. I was ready for them (them being Elizabeth and her apprentice, Jenn). I guess they came over between 7 and 8 am. We got the birthing pool ready and Jenn checked me. I was completely thinned out and what we thought was 7 cm. What we didn't know was that the 7 cm was incorrect. Elizabeth didn't check behind Jenn and she was mistaken. (Insert here that I was in NO WAY frustrated at Jenn for the mistake. Apparently, especially in first time mothers, the cervix flexes easily and can be pushed out of the way, so what felt like 7 cm was in reality less than 5.) The problem this created is that typically, going into the birthing pool before you're at 6 cm will significantly slow the labor process. Since we thought I was at a 7, I went in. Even though the contractions continued, the water slowed things down.
I don't know what time it was, but I got the urge to push. Roscoe's head was only about an inch inside me. He was waaaaaaaay down there. After however long of pushing with no progress, Elizabeth checked me and gave the bad news that I was only at 5 cm. I had to get out of the pool. They decided to give us some privacy, so they left to make another homevisit and told us to call if we needed them back. The urge to push was due to Roscoe being so low, even though I wasn't dilated all the way.
Once my contractions were lasting no less than 4 minutes long with a break of maybe 30 seconds between each, Mark called Elizabeth back. I was in agony. Reaching the "get this thing outta me" point.
I honestly can't recall if I went back in the birthing pool or not. But I know that the next time Elizabeth checked me, I was at 7 cm. I started to feel really helpless. All this work, 4 minute long contractions, and I'm not even to the transition part of labor yet? (8-10 cm, the most intense part of opening up). They stayed for a while and I wasn't making much progress, so Elizabeth told us they were going to leave but stay close. She really believed I labored better without them there, and Mark agreed. So they were gone.
I was told to get some rest (I was functioning off an hour and a half of sleep), but at this point it was impossible. I had to get up and move around. So Mark went to bed to try to rest some while I walked around the house and sat/rolled around on the exercise ball. I took a shower and once I got out, the contractions were so intense I felt I couldn't make it through them. I started getting shaky and I threw up. And I got the urge to push again. Mark called them back.
I worked through a bunch of non-stop contractions, trying to relax through each, but it was so hard. The natural reaction is to tense up. I got back in the pool and all I remember is hitting a point where I HAD to push. I absolutely couldn't wait any longer. I didn't even tell Elizabeth and Jenn, I just started doing it. They were in the kitchen and ran into the living room to get suited up for the delivery. It was around 9:30 pm.
Hours later--yes--hours--Elizabeth decided to check me to see if maybe there was a little lip of the cervix that was stuck. She checked and what do you know but I'm only 8 cm. I felt like I couldn't take any more news like that. I was functioning off an hour and a half of sleep, and I hadn't had anything to eat since Friday night. This was Saturday late night. She said there were 2 options: I could get out of the pool and labor through contractions letting them open my cervix up, or she could force it open as I was pushing during the next contraction.
Hmmmm.... Would you rather have your thumbnail or your big toenail ripped off?
I thought about it for a minute and decided to let her force it open. I had already been pushing for hours and didn't want to mentally or physically backtrack to just letting the contractions do their own work. It was too much of a relief to push. So the next contraction, as I pushed, she was using her fingers to force my cervix all the way around Roscoe's head.
It was still a while, but progress was made. I got out of the pool to push on the couch in different positions. Then once enough progress was made, I got back in the pool and pushed using more different positions. The water definitely eased the pain.
Elizabeth, Jenn, and Mark were all excellent in encouraging me and praising me for making progress. I didn't feel like I was because I couldn't see what was going on. But I hit a point where I was determined to get him out. I gave myself 3 contractions to get him to the point where he was crowing and I could see him. It worked. I looked down in the midst of hearing all the "excellent"s and "good job, anne marie"s to see the top of his head. I screamed "I can see him!!!!" and then the contractions kept coming stronger and closer. It was no time until I felt his head coming out. All at once, it literally popped out and she unwrapped the cord from his neck (this is a very common occurance in almost all babies). I gave it one more push for his shoulders to come out and suddenly the rest of him just slipped out of my body and I was being handed my little Roscoe. February 13, 2011. 12:20 am. Welcome, Roscoe Porter Grant.....
I don't think I cried. I was just in shock, as you can see from that bottom picture. I couldn't stop gasping and looking at that little face covered in that cheesy vernix. And the best part, Roscoe couldn't stop looking at me either. We sat there in the pool for 15 minutes maybe just looking at each other. Here's the little one that had been growing inside my body for 9 months, looking into my eyes. He knew who I was, I could tell by the way he stared. And Mark was right there with us the whole time. It was perfect.
I did have quite a bit of bleeding after the placenta was delivered. I got 2 shots of pitocin to combat it and it was followed by some sort of pill that I can't remember the name of. By the way, the placenta was HUGE. Enormous. At least I know I was giving him enough nutrients during the pregnancy :)
Mark bonding with his son while Elizabeth and Jenn tended to me.
Newborn exam
The measurement Mark is most proud of: the chest size. Forget length and weight. Roscoe came out with a 14.5 inch chest measurement. Elizabeth said the biggest she's seen is 15.
Getting the weight. 8 lbs 9 oz. 22.5 inches long.
So the reason for the complicated labor........... Roscoe came out posterior. Instead of his back facing out, his back was positioned toward my spine. So he had it backwards. Creating some terrible back labor. Also, instead of having his chin tucked into his chest, he was trying to look up as he was coming out. Consequently, I pushed for 3 hours and he had a gigantic bump on his head that looked like a tumor. The swelling went down that night but he has a bruise from it. These factors are what contributed to a labor that was looooong and really had no pattern.
But he's here. And yes, for the curious ones. Our future children will be born at home as well. Wouldn't trade homebirths or midwives for anything. They were incredible...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
i came home to this
Sorry for the not-so-great-quality picture. These were on the doorstep when I got home this afternoon, with a note that said "You are the love of my life! Miss you babe. Mark"
Oh, Mark........
Oh, Mark........
Sunday, February 6, 2011
it flies in the face of what i've believed
So our church is starting a new series through the book of Malachi. Last week was the intro, getting accustomed to the tone of the book. God approaches a depressed and discouraged people with a truth about Him and His character. And the response He anticipates is rebuttal. He says "I have loved you. But you say, 'how have you loved us?'" You can see "but you say" repeated throughout the book. God gives them a truth, and is not shocked with hearing "but...." as a response.
This week blew me away. It's pretty natural and human to think that things happen according to your standing with God. If I'm good and follow all his commands, He'll bless me. If not, then my life will be marked by suffering and "bad things." Right? I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it?
The points from tonight's message in a nutshell: God's righteous anger and His covenantal love are NOT based on natural qualities, circumstantial events, or mood swings.
So.......... just because a person is flourishing or "blessed" does not mean that he is out from under the wrath of God. At the same time, just because a person is experiencing difficult trials or suffering does not mean that he is out from under the love of God. This is what I have been mulling over all night. My mind doesn't want to work that way.
This quote sums it up well:
If my interpretation of God's love is filtered through my experiences or feelings regarding love, then I will conclude that God's love is fickle like mine. But if my understanding of the love of God is grounded on His covenantal distinctions as manifested through the cross of Christ, then my experience of love is resistant to the constant fluctuation of my condition. God's love did not emerge is a flash of favor, nor does it disappear in a period of disappointment. His character and covenantal purposes do not change (Malachi 3:6). Therefore, my relationship with Him is not fluctuating with my performance or passions.
I don't claim to be a good sermon reiterator (although I think I did just invent a word), but I'll repeat what I've already said, because this is what flies in the face of what I've believed all my life:
Just because a person is flourishing or "blessed" does not mean that he is out from under the wrath of God. At the same time, just because a person is experiencing difficult trials or suffering does not mean that he is out from under the love of God.
So, "I am blessed because I have done _____________." No, I'm sorry, but according to the book of Malachi, God doesn't operate that way. Or how about "God is displeased with me and punishing me because I _____________." No, his righteous anger isn't based on what you do, nor are you justified by it.
There's a lot to think about here, and I'm really looking forward to this series. And if you're curious, yes, church was tonight. I know it's Saturday. But North Hills moves their Sunday evening service to Saturday the weekend of the Super Bowl to allow people the opportunity to still attend the evening service AND host a party on Sunday night. The only problem with it? Now I feel like tomorrow is Monday, and that throws me off for the whole week.
This week blew me away. It's pretty natural and human to think that things happen according to your standing with God. If I'm good and follow all his commands, He'll bless me. If not, then my life will be marked by suffering and "bad things." Right? I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it?
The points from tonight's message in a nutshell: God's righteous anger and His covenantal love are NOT based on natural qualities, circumstantial events, or mood swings.
So.......... just because a person is flourishing or "blessed" does not mean that he is out from under the wrath of God. At the same time, just because a person is experiencing difficult trials or suffering does not mean that he is out from under the love of God. This is what I have been mulling over all night. My mind doesn't want to work that way.
This quote sums it up well:
If my interpretation of God's love is filtered through my experiences or feelings regarding love, then I will conclude that God's love is fickle like mine. But if my understanding of the love of God is grounded on His covenantal distinctions as manifested through the cross of Christ, then my experience of love is resistant to the constant fluctuation of my condition. God's love did not emerge is a flash of favor, nor does it disappear in a period of disappointment. His character and covenantal purposes do not change (Malachi 3:6). Therefore, my relationship with Him is not fluctuating with my performance or passions.
I don't claim to be a good sermon reiterator (although I think I did just invent a word), but I'll repeat what I've already said, because this is what flies in the face of what I've believed all my life:
Just because a person is flourishing or "blessed" does not mean that he is out from under the wrath of God. At the same time, just because a person is experiencing difficult trials or suffering does not mean that he is out from under the love of God.
So, "I am blessed because I have done _____________." No, I'm sorry, but according to the book of Malachi, God doesn't operate that way. Or how about "God is displeased with me and punishing me because I _____________." No, his righteous anger isn't based on what you do, nor are you justified by it.
There's a lot to think about here, and I'm really looking forward to this series. And if you're curious, yes, church was tonight. I know it's Saturday. But North Hills moves their Sunday evening service to Saturday the weekend of the Super Bowl to allow people the opportunity to still attend the evening service AND host a party on Sunday night. The only problem with it? Now I feel like tomorrow is Monday, and that throws me off for the whole week.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
advice
One of the cool things about the baby shower this past Saturday was the table decorations. They were multi-functional. (I LOVE multi-functional things)
Not only were they beautiful, but they had blank pieces of paper pinned to the branches for the purpose of writing down little pieces of advice to me.
So I'm going to share some of my favorite pieces of advice from family and friends:
-- Remember that the days may be long, but the years are short! Follow your instincts-you know your baby! No matter what "the books" say
-- Remember that you had Mark first and make time for him. Roscoe will be fine if his parents stay in love!
-- Date night, date night, date night
-- My biggest advice ~ Enjoy Roscoe! Never feel guilty about "just" watching him sleep or "just" lying on the couch with him. Everything else will wait. The simple, everyday moments with Roscoe are in no way common, but moments of wonder that you'll treasure always
-- Be REAL-let him know that you are human, and make mistakes, but that God forgives.
-- Eventually, reverse psychology won't work
-- Read to Roscoe. Talk to him, telling him about everything! Even when he is tiny. Sing to him, hold him, pray with him, even when he is a newborn.
-- All toys come in pairs- One for Roscoe, one for Mark.
-- Never criticize how your husband takes care of Roscoe. He will be so much more willing to help you if you are accepting of how he does things, even if it is not how you do them.
Not only were they beautiful, but they had blank pieces of paper pinned to the branches for the purpose of writing down little pieces of advice to me.
So I'm going to share some of my favorite pieces of advice from family and friends:
-- Remember that the days may be long, but the years are short! Follow your instincts-you know your baby! No matter what "the books" say
-- Remember that you had Mark first and make time for him. Roscoe will be fine if his parents stay in love!
-- Date night, date night, date night
-- My biggest advice ~ Enjoy Roscoe! Never feel guilty about "just" watching him sleep or "just" lying on the couch with him. Everything else will wait. The simple, everyday moments with Roscoe are in no way common, but moments of wonder that you'll treasure always
-- Be REAL-let him know that you are human, and make mistakes, but that God forgives.
-- Eventually, reverse psychology won't work
-- Read to Roscoe. Talk to him, telling him about everything! Even when he is tiny. Sing to him, hold him, pray with him, even when he is a newborn.
-- All toys come in pairs- One for Roscoe, one for Mark.
-- Never criticize how your husband takes care of Roscoe. He will be so much more willing to help you if you are accepting of how he does things, even if it is not how you do them.
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