Our birth story...

I wanted to write down out birth story before the details got too hazy.  Though considering the drugs that were given to me for the c-section, I may have made these details up in my head.  Given that I had a c-section, I suppose it goes without saying that the birth was not the type I had planned, though actually nothing in this experience went as planned so I'm not sure why I expected anything different. 

I imagine anyone who has had any type of fertility problems remembers when they decided to try to get pregnant: the excitement, the anticipation,...and the thought that it would most certainly happen easily and quickly.  Why wouldn't it? We were young, in love, and not at all afraid of working hard and puting ourselves in this heart and soul.  Which is probably why it hurts so much more when it doesn't happen.  After several months, and weird things happening with my body, we realized we needed some help.  Now our fertility issues were nothing compared to those of so many others, but I don't think that makes it easier or makes our experience worth less.  However, after 10 months of medications, lots of blood draws (which you think would have cured my fear of needles), and ultrasounds, we were surprised to find that I was pregnant...especially after I was told that I had no egg follicles that month and that there was no way I could get pregnant.  I was given a prescription for Provera to start my period, which Chris talked me out of taking, saying "Let's just see what happens."  And look what happened. 

My pregnancy was entirely uneventful, until at 35 weeks pregnant I had an ultrasound and found out that the baby was frank breech, or butt first.  My amniotic fluid was on the low side of normal and my placenta was anterior.  Meaning they couldn't move the baby and there was a slim chance he would be able to move on his own because he had no swimming room.  The baby was 4 lbs 15 oz.  I went back at 37 weeks and the baby was still breech, the amniotic fluid was below normal and the baby weighed in at 4 lbs. 14 oz.  Trouble.  I was told to drink as much gatorade as possible in the next 24 hours and if my fluid was not up then I would be having a cesarean that weekend.  Luckily the gatorade did the trick, the non-stress test was normal and I got to keep that little guy in me for a little while longer.  Same tests the next week were also normal, and we scheduled the section for 6/25 at 12:15.  I tried not to think about how the baby wasn't growing. 

We checked in at 10:15 and we were in pretty bright spirits considering my fear of needles and lack of surgical experience.  I made sure to tell every single person who came in how scared I was of needles, and I made it through the IV placement with my amazing OR nurse, Stella.  I was surprised they had me walk myself into the operating room.  Chris would come in after the spinal block.  I sat on the table, rounding over (as much as I could with my belly) and tried to engage a very tiny nurse name Joan in conversation to distract myself.  The nurse anesthetist STUDENT (seriously) prepped me and told me we were just waiting for Dr. Murphy, the anesthesiologist.  I looked at Stella and asked if she could tell Dr. Murphy to move his ass.  She was more than happy to, and Dr. Murphy arrived very quickly, stating that his ass was now in the room.  They started the spinal, and I almost passed out of course, but made it.  I was quickly filled with a warm feeling which was so bizarre, but kind of nice...until I started puking.  They got my BP under control and Chris arrived. 

Chris rubbed my head while they started surgery, and I really couldn't feel a single thing.  No real pressure or tugging.  We talked to Dr. Messinger about her family and she let me know that if there were any problems with the surgery, we wouldn't be having this conversation.  Suddenly she said, "I can see his booty! He's got a little tiny booty!" I convinced Chris to look over the drape to see him coming out and he came out screaming.  They showed him to me quickly then took him about 5 feet away to clean him up, etc.  The NICU team checked him out and said he was great, though tiny at 4 lbs 14 oz....same as the last ultrasound measurement.  They wrapped him up and Chris brought him to me.  The darn nurse anesthetist student took pictures of us as a family. 

We went to recovery where I got some Benadryl for the itching and began nursing.  He was very good at nursing from the get go, though it was tough with no movement from my chest down. 

Tucker John was born at 12:52 pm 4 lbs 14 oz, 18.25 inches.  Though this was certainly not the low intervention, doula assisted birth I envisioned, it was perfect for us.  By far the happiest day of my life. 

What the eff do we do now?

Today is my first day alone with my eleven day old baby, Tucker. My mom left this morning after three glorious weeks here to help. Chris of course had to work today. Know a good way to make everyone feel guilty about leaving you alone? Fall on the stairs and hit your head in the wall. That works well. So now I'm left wondering what on Earth are Tuck and I going to do all day. There are not stairs in my immediate future, which takes laundry or making up the guest bed off the table. Wait a sec... I think that means I can officially do nothing all day. Maybe this is more awesome than it seems. I know exactly what I will do. I will sit here a stare at this beautiful miracle. That should make the time go quickly.

A few of my favorite things

Okay, I'll admit it.  I actually don't care for the pumpkin spice latte.  It tastes more like coffee creamer than coffee, and the sugar gets me higher than the caffeine, but for a lot less time. 

But I'll forgive autumn this one misstep because I love everything else about fall.  Everything.

Here in Spokane, it is definitely fall.  Mid 50's, crisp and sunny, beautiful leaves changing colors.  The smell of homefires burning. 

My only problem is that all I want to do is lay in front of the fire, eat soup, read a book, while smelling a yummy candle. 

And this is not doing much for my ass. 

a butcher, a baker, a candle stick maker

I feel very lucky to have a partner that pursues his passions with fervor.  Barbeque? Got the smoker, got the cookbook, it has been perfected.  Pasta making? Multiple cookbooks and six hours later and we have 42 servings of homemade pasta in the freezer.  Going wine tasting? We've got the names, the map, and the printout of all wine prices before leaving.  Okay, that one might have been me. 

Latest obsession of Chris? Bread making.  Ahh, bread making.  Who doesn't love fresh baked bread? The smell, that first warm bite.  Chris REALLY loves bread, and more than that the challenge of bread making. 

Round 1:  Late August.  As all foodie challenges begin, Chris was watching a bread making episode of America's Test Kitchen.  Crusty white bread.  As kids who grew up on wheat bread, we love love love some farm style white bread.  It was great.  We proclaimed, "THE BEST BREAD EVER MADE!" 

Round 2-3: Attempts to make the previously mentioned bread lighter.   Still tasty, however not lighter.  Following these two loaves I thought perhaps I was gluten intolerant.  Then I realized I should probably include something besides bread in my diet.  Cured.

Round 4: We discovered an amazing blog...foodwishes.blogspot.com wear the Chef provides video recipes.  Viola! We made REAL, LIGHT, WONDERFUL Ciabatta bread! BEST BREAD EVER MADE! We decided to include some vegetables in our diet this time around with bruschetta from our garden tomatoes and basil. 

And then I lost track.  Since this time, we've had at least 6 loaves of bread including light farm style white bread that was not dense  (Again-best bread ever made!), oatmeal bread, and more ciabatta bread.  Today is his first attempt at multi-grain bread.  I'm sure it will also be the best bread ever made. 

Did I mention we had to buy the 50 lbs. bag of bread flour from Costco?

Mambo Italiano

I am lucky to have an occasional day off in the middle of the week.  I would be really lucky if that meant I didn't have to work the weekend as well but whatever. 

Quite often, Chris comes home from work to find me covered in flour, unshowered,  and probably sweaty after cooking all day.  Lucky guy, my husband. 

Most recently, I decided to make lots of food, Italian food.  Homemade gnocchi, butternut squash ravioli, and veal ravioli.  I'm not sure what the hell I was thinking, but it was fabulous. 

And I promise I did take a shower that day, I just didn't look like it by the time Chris got home. 

chez ambrose

Conversation at our house tonight:
Me: So let me get this straight. As your wife, I'm in charge of buying the birthday cards, making all the appointments, paying the bills....What are you in charge of?

Chris: Finding the deals.

Ah, my husband. Just keep him away from the coupons.

Adventures in Camping...

I am lucky I have a husband that loves camping and knows how to do it. I am also really lucky my parents never forced us to camp a day in our lives. Beach cottages and hotels were more our style.

Early in our relationship, camping came up. It's cheap, you get to enjoy the great outdoors, you're out of cell phone range. It's good in theory, right?

Somehow we never made our first camping trip until this weekend (almost 3 years since the first discussion). And it's probably a good thing that Chris didn't experience me in the wilderness pre-marriage, otherwise I can't guarantee he'd have met me at the altar. When we decided to venture to the Idaho/Montana border this weekend, I had one stipulation...we would be eating hotdogs and poptarts. Chris also had one stipulation-we would only go for one night. We shook on it.

Our trip involved moving campgrounds once (thanks to bear warnings and no tent camping) and lots of whining. It was really cold. And the ground is surprisingly uncomfortable. I probably slept three hours and must have looked quite the princess with my ear plugs and sleep mask. Needless to say, camping was not my favorite activity.

Ah, the silver lining...the first thing Chris said to me this morning, "I'm too old for this sh*t."

addiction

I'm embarassed to comment on my recent addiction. I wish I could say it was my first, alas-I cannot.

I'm addicted to the history of the British Monarcy.

It all began with instant streaming of the showtime series "The Tudors", which explores the life of Henry VIII and his reign as king. This is not my first rodeo with the Tudor family, with whom I became intrigued following the reading of the "The Other Boleyn Girl".

I spent last evening reading the official website of the British Monarchy for at least two hours. Unfortunately for my husband, I am blessed with a photographic memory and I spent the rest of the evening reciting British trivia.

I've been consistently dreaming of 16th century court. I've set up 8 hours worth of recordings following Prince William and Kate Middleton's marriage. I keep telling Chris that this is a healthy obsession. I could be smoking crack for God's sake.

Tonight, he became a co-dependent by setting up several movies surrounding the British Monarchy into our Netflix queue. When I asked if we should watch another episode of the Tudors (Anne Boleyn is close to death afterall), he replied, "As you wish, my lady."

Uh-oh. We're all in trouble now.

What day is it anyway?

It's winter in Spokane. Just when I thought spring was peeking her nose out, we got a foot of snow. I'm ready to strangle that damn groundhog. The days go like this: Wake up. There's a little bit of sun. Feeling good, all I need is a fleece. Lunch time: One of my patients comments on the weather. I look outside for the first time all day. It's surprisingly overcast. Approximately 2.3 seconds later there are snow flurries. Afternoon: Leaving work, heading to the gym. Snow showers. The parking lot at the gym is like a snow marsh, and consequently my feet are wet and I'm unhappy. Heading home: It's now rain/snow mix. My yummy taco dinner originally panned sounds terrible and all I want is beef stew.

The days are running together. I literally have no idea what day it is.

Hawaii T-19 days.

Haha. We're even.

This week, Chris and I marked yet another adventure in married life-the combining of the cell phone plans. We have now combined bank accounts, I have changed my name on nearly everything (except my email, which I'm never giving up), and jointly filed our taxes (well, Chris did that. I provided moral support). When we strolled into AT&T at 4:30 Monday afternoon we had no idea it would be so emotionally exhausting. (Duhn-duhn-DUHN).

Chris decided he wanted some super fancy phone that we had to order ahead of time. We had discussed that he would keep his phone number, which he'd had for a few years and still involved a Bellingham, WA area code. Great, I thought. I never want to change my phone number. I am the only person I know who has had the same phone number since 1999. My phone number also bore the badge of the 775....that of northern Nevada, my home sweet home.

After at least 20 minutes discussion of discounts, phone plans, and a little bartering on Chris's part (I just walk away--can't handle the pressure), the lovely associate informed us that Chris can't keep his phone number. What-what-Whaaat? Um, not what we discussed. Apparently, because I am the name on the account, and this account was opened in Nevada, it is considered a different market. Consequently, either Chris needed to switch to a Nevada number, or we both had to switch to Spokane numbers (and close and re-open the account to do this).

Chris casually mentions how it makes sense for us both to switch our numbers, since we live in Spokane. I comment that I've had the same phone number for 12 years. He says it makes no sense for him to change to a Nevada number. I nearly shout, "I changed my name!" And I'm pretty sure every person in that store mumbled under his breath, "Mmhmm, that's true." I looked at Chris's face and noticed the sweet expression of defeat.

He is now a (not so)proud member of the 775. I know it's a big step for him. But at least he didn't have to go to the DMV.

Home means Nevada, home means the hills...home means binge drinking?

Chris and I ventured south for Martin Luther King's Day weekend for what we hoped would be a relaxing time to reconnect and hang with my parents. This plan was quickly foiled when my brother, James, and his girlfriend, Morgan, surprised us from Las Vegas! James and I don't see each other very often and so anytime an opportunity arises it's hard to pass up a short drive. Or I imagine it's hard to pass up a short drive. I've actually not surprised my brother at my parents' home, but I'll put it on my bucket list.

No surprise, the relaxing weekend became a time to celebrate all celebrations for which we were apart during the year. We had Christmas/Thanksgiving (I think that was the wine and yummy pork dinner), Memorial Day/4th of July/Labor Day (drinking large amounts of beer on the patio), New Year's Day (drinking in the morning-white russians and bloody marys), New Year's Eve (staying up too late, drinking), and baseball season (watching Major League while drinking, and actually creating a drinking game with the movie). We celebrated James's birthday in actuality as well, which was lovely.

Chris and I returned to Washington, tired, bloated and in need of detox. However, we were definitely smiling. That was some vacation.

Our day together OR Why the f*** did I ever think I liked to ski?

Chris and I were lucky enough to have this past Friday off together, and decided to go skiing...a past time we both claimed to enjoy from the early talks of our relationship, but one we had never actually experienced together. Now, we all joke about my obscene planning tendencies, but this husband of mine has a planning streak as well-and his happens to be a little more particular than mine. Consequently, he decided the location, prices, and of course, meal options far in advanced. It was a wet day of skiing, particularly for me, as I fell on every run except the last one. So frustrating. I need to ski more often, I suppose. Chris was lovely, patient, and helpful. Even when I had a full on nervous breakdown in the middle of a slope and a 12 year old asked me if I was okay. Just kidding, he actually laughed at me that time.

Our little Christmas

Our first little Christmas was fabulous. Attended the Children's Mass on Christmas Eve with our good friends the McBeavs and their adorable hunk of love, Keane. Thank God Keane attended, because he kept Chris entertained. Well, and vice versa. The four of us enjoyed a crab dinner with wine a-flowing while Keane sat in the living room, happy as a clam with our kitty Harvey. Such a good boy. He never once got fussy, just happy to be present.

Christmas morning was a melding of traditions for us. We woke up, popped the champagne and had cinnamon rolls while opening stocking stuffers (my family). Then we made our meat-i-licious Christmas breakfast before we opened any gifts. Killer. Lots of fun gifts, of which we still need to write our thank you notes. Working on it, I promise.

The rest of the day consisted mainly of sitting on the couch, drinking champagne until it was time to shower and head over to the McBeav's house for a tasty prime rib dinner (complete with Molly's fab jell-o mold) and Mama and Papa Beav. We did discover that all of us should enter a wine drinking contest because we are really good at it. Beav's wine/white russian combo did catch up to him, and eventually the evening was called to an end. A fabulous end, mind you.

Forcing Christmas

I love Christmas. Not like, "Oh what a fun time of year, I like presents, blah, blah, blah," but I FREAKING love Christmas. Thanksgiving marks the beginning of the Christmas season for me and my family. We have a lot of traditions, as Chris is beginning to grasp. We kick it all off with our annual viewing of "White Christmas" on Thanksgiving. Now, when I watch "White Christmas" with my immediate family, we are obnoxious as hell, commenting on the same exact things, at the same exact time, every year. Chris is still learning the stimulating plot line along with the required commentary, but I'm considering writing cue cards with these comments for next year to make it easier.

Early in our relationship (probably like our second date. I'm serious about this holiday), Chris and I discussed Christmas preferences. Conversation probably went like this, "Chris--so you know I want to get married as soon as possible and I like multi-colored lights on my Christmas tree. What kind of lights do you like?" (If you know me at all, you are laughing your ass off right now, just so ya know.) Well, much to my dismay, my future husband likes white lights! No worries, I showed him the light. Enter stage left, our beautiful, gaudy, multi-colored, tinsel covered, glorious tree.

Look at me compromising...it has colored lights AND white lights. :)

Snowy Turkey Day

The week of Thanksgiving came with lots of food and lots of snow. All in all about 10 inches, making for beautiful scenery, you know from inside. We ventured out for a little exercise one snowy day. Unfortunately, Chris left his boots outside this summer, so he had to wear running shoes and those sightly sweatpants on our walk. Don't worry, no frostbite.

Our Olive just loves the snow. She snow plows with her snout, ending up with a Santa type snow beard. It is nearly impossible to capture on camera, but I'm still working on it.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving with our dear friends, Charlotte and Troy. Lucky for Charlotte, she had to work Thanksgiving day and came home to three half drunk party guests. We some how made dinner come together and it was mighty tasty. Macaroni and cheese was added to the menu this year, along with our usual turkey, cranberries, potatoes, cornbread dressing, sweet potato casserole, brocolli casserole, waldorf salad, and crescent rolls. All this for four people. It gives me indigestion just thinking about it. We all better start having some kids soon so we can spread the deliciousness wealth a little more.

Doing what we do best...

This time of year (who are we kidding? All times of year), we enjoy a cocktail. However, this time of year we enjoy the flavors of the season in cocktails-cranberry, pomegranate, orange, grapefruit, mint-leaving us to experimentation of the best type. Tonight, we tried a concoction presented to us my my brother's girlfriend, Morgan. Muddled fresh cranberries, vodka and a splash of sparkling wine. Pretty yummy. Next time, I think we'll add some orange, too.

Cranberry Mojitos, Cranberry Margaritas, and of course pomegranate cosmos. Cocktails, anyone?

The Ambrose Family

Ahhhh! I changed my name legally today. Hit the DMV and Social Security Office early with some of Spokane's finest and managed to get in and out of both places in 15 minutes. Which is actually pretty scary. At the social security office they didn't even ask to see ID.
For the record, I dropped my middle name, moved my maiden name to the middle, and took Chris's last name. But I feel myself torn--As my best friend Charlotte pointed out today, our parents thought about our birth names, how they sound, what kind of person that would make us, and I just threw that away without even showing identification. I know, I know...my family will still know me as Sara Lynn, and it's not like they'll stop calling me that now, but I am no longer Sara L. when signing. As sad as I am to see Lynn go, I'm glad I held tight to my maiden name, and I still get to sign a B. in the middle. I just love the letter B.

Today, Chris also got his USAA member number. And I'm beginning to think that was one of his top three reasons for marrying me. :)

Sadie, Sadie, Married lady

Aww...Married

Yeah, it was fun.

We did it! After 8 months of preparation, the wedding and reception went off with out a hitch. Our ceremony, performed by Chris's "uncle" Dick, was lovely and intimate, and the reception was a great time. We feel so blessed to have been surrounded by our closest family and friends. Here's a few photo nuggets from our disposables....

Chris's mom, Jane, hosted a great rehearsal dinner, and here she is with his Grandma Martha.

My dad, Tim, giving his sweet toast

More pics to come.

Almost a family...

Here I am, sitting on the couch, five days before our wedding. I'm so happy I was able to take this whole week off of work, but I find myself mentally overwhelmed with the tasks to come. Make a list, you say? Done. I suppose it is not really the items on the list, or the "things" as some may say, but the event, the logistics, and the realization that I will be a wife, spouse, and companion to a man that I couldn't imagine ever entering my life until he was actually here.

If wedding planning hasn't taught me organization, I don't know what will. I am currently surrounded by checklists, binders, and contracts. I can't seem to tear myself away from wedding shows (Say Yes to the Dress this instant) and I'm an emotional wreck, laughing one minute and crying another. Very similar to the evening before my comprehensive exams in graduate school.

So I will leave myself with some advice: No matter what happens in the next week, all will be perfect because Chris and I will be married. We will be a unit and a family. Here, we will share our journey!