the first 730 hours

Sorry for the radio silence.  I’ve been a little distracted by this tiny creature:

Ireland Jane Eddy was born 1/12/11.  She weighed just 6 lbs 9 oz and was 18 inches long.  I’m working on getting the story of her birth all written down and will be happy to share it when I finish.  To be honest, it’s a little hard to look back on, so I’m taking my time.  After I was induced, I labored with Ireland for a little over 22 hours and had to finally deliver her by Cesarean.  I felt a little defeated and I’m still trying to come to terms with it.  Looking at her sweet face everyday is a great reminder to me that I didn’t fail by not delivering her naturally.  I still brought a beautiful, calm spirit into the world and that is something I am proud of.  She is already a lot like her mommy in some ways (calm, content, and just happy to be here) and a lot like her daddy (fidgety, wiggly, and hungry all the time).  From the moment she came out she was peaceful and observant- checking everything out and kicking her strong little legs at all the nurses. 

Now she’s a month old and time seems to be going by too quickly for my taste.  I just want to hold onto her and soak up every second I have while she is still so tiny.  So you’ll all understand why I haven’t been blogging or posting enough pictures.  I forgive myself because it’s more important for me to snuggle my precious daughter and let her know how much I love her.

In the past month she’s added many impressive talents to her repertoire, including but not limited to: nursing like a champ, spitting up on daddy, pooping on daddy, holding her head up, grunting like a dinosaur, looking around, staying awake for more than 5 seconds, snoring in church, and helping with the grocery shopping.

Thank you for the last month, Ireland,  We’re so glad you’re here.



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Thoughts on Buddy the Elf, dishes, Real Housewives of Atlanta, and my husband.

I played hookey from the last hour of church yesterday.  My sciatic nerve is mad at the baby for camping out on it, so I walk like a pirate with a wooden leg and those metal church chairs don’t exactly help.  Gavin brought me home and then cleaned the entire house.  Yeah, I know I’m lucky.  I know he’s great.  Please excuse me while I expand on this a little…

Before bed last night, we watched the movie “Elf” to try to squeeze one last bit of Christmas into the weekend.  There’s a part in the movie where Buddy the Elf (Will Ferrell) goes on a date with Jovie (Zooey Deschanel).  They do very mundane things like buying a “crappy cup of coffee”, skipping across crosswalks, and spinning around in those revolving doors at the entrance of hotels.  Although these things seem pretty ordinary, Buddy is so excited to do them that it makes it fun for Jovie.  He does not stop smiling and laughing through the entire scene.  I jokingly made the remark that being married to Gavin was like being married to Buddy the Elf, and Gav rolled his eyes…but the more I think about it today, the more I realize it’s true.  If you know anything about the movie and you know anything about Gavin, you’re probably nodding your head.  He is so enthusiastic about everything that happens, I can’t help but have a good time no matter what we are doing.  

My case:  While he was washing dishes yesterday (dishes!!) he started singing.  I couldn’t tell what it was at first, but when I concentrated I realized it was “The Ring Didn’t Mean a Thing”.  If you haven’t heard of it, that’s because you’re boring, and probably a lot classier than  me.  Sometimes…I watch Real Housewives of Atlanta.  I know, I know, it’s gross.  I’m gross.  Whatever, it’s out there now and I’m over it.  I love the hair, I love the accents, and I love the drama.  One of the ladies on the show thinks she’s a singer and recorded this awful song that she sings on the show all the time, and that’s what Gav was singing…because MY SWEET HUSBAND who I GUARANTEE YOU would rather be watching the Chargers or Lakers game will sit and watch it with me after a 10 or 12 hour day at work so I don’t have a crazy pregnant lady meltdown.  So there I was yesterday, propped up on the couch surrounded all the pillows he had fluffed for me, praying my baked potato feet would stop swelling, feeling bad for myself, and Gav was scrubbing the dirty pots and pans, singing away.  HOW DO YOU GET THAT HAPPY????  Sure, he’s super good looking, can grow a mean mustache without even trying, and has rad dance moves…but this natural enthusiasm and happiness is why I married him.  He wakes up smiling, tickles and kisses my grumpy attitude away until I’m smiling, smiles at work all day long, comes home and smiles some more, and then goes to sleep smiling.  I’m telling you, he is Buddy the Elf.  Smiling is his favorite.

My point:  Driving home from Gavin’s work this morning, the baby woke up and started her usual morning jazzercise routine in my tummy.  Most mornings I groan and try to move into a position where my ribs are spared her extreme high kicks, but today I tried to stay still and just feel her.  It was so overwhelmingly reassuring to know that this sweet little girl is just as rambunctious as her daddy.  She is Gavin’s daughter, and I’m glad for that.  I can already tell she is just like him.  She can’t sit still, and that makes me love her more and more everyday.  I love my tiny family, and I feel so blessed to be surrounded by so much enthusiasm and joy.  

Sure, Gavin’s not perfect.  Maybe he talks through every movie we go see, but what he says is always funny and makes me laugh super hard.  And maybe he can’t sit still and is basically vibrating with energy all the time.  But you know what?  That makes him a hard worker AND he still has the energy to take me out on a date or sit and talk to me after working all day.  If I tell a joke, he will laugh the loudest and hardest and make me feel like Seinfeld.  If I say something and no one else pays attention or hears me, he loudly proclaims that I am super smart and that no one else in the universe would have thought to say that.  He makes me feel like I’m a lot cooler than I really am, and smothers me with attention.  When I was first pregnant and really sick all the time, he would come in the bathroom and rub my back and hold my hair and then carry me back to bed.  Even now, when I get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night (which happens a lot when you’re 9 months pregnant) he rolls over and kisses me on the cheek (or the arm, or the nose or the ear…his aim is a little off at 12 am..and 2 am, and 3 am, and 4 am, and 5…).

Probably no one will read this all the way through because it’s super mushy and gross, but the bottom line here is that I know I got lucky.  I am married to my very best friend.  We have our own language, love each others families, and can spend every waking moment together without getting annoyed.  So thanks for the belly rubs every night, hun.  And the trips to 7-11 across town for juice.  And the 3,000 verses of “Baby Beluga” to get the Sea Monkey to stop kicking and let me sleep.  And the remote control.  And the fluffiest pillow on the bed.  And for being Buddy the Elf.  You can have the whole box of Candy Cane Joe Joes- you just keep doing what you’re doing.


Filed under Baby, Holidays, Husband, Love, Marriage, Pregnancy, Uncategorized, Wifey

Lucky Duck.

Yep, I got PUPPS.  Nope, I don’t want to talk about it.  I just really like doing things the hard way, i guess.

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mama drama.

Hi.  I haven’t put up christmas decorations.  Nope, they are sitting in a nice box right next to me on the couch.  I’m such an over-achiever.

This weekend was nuts.  I thought I was going into labor, you guys.  I’m totally serious.  I started having contractions Sunday morning and figured they were just Braxton-Hicks, but as the morning stretched on they started getting closer together and becoming more painful.  I reassured Gavin that I was fine, sent him off to church, and started timing the contractions.  After only a few hours they were only 10 minutes apart and pretty uncomfortable.  I sent him a text that got him home pretty fast (using the words “labor”, “contractions”, and “hospital” in a sentence will cause a fuss, apparently) and we scooted off to labor & delivery….again.  Groan.

When I got there, a nice but unconvinced nurse strapped me to a monitor and left me for almost an hour.  She seemed put off by the fact that I was calm and not ripping anyone’s hair out.  I’m a silent sufferer.  What can I say?  When she finally came in to check on me, I was dismayed by the lack of activity showing up on the monitor…I swear I felt contractions!  Just as she was about to leave the room, I had a pretty strong one.  She came over and palpated my stomach…yep, it was a contraction.  Apparently the machines they use to monitor contractions aren’t very sophisticated, but after she moved the contraptions around to different spots on my belly, they started to show up on the screen, in regular 8-10 minute intervals.

She called the doctor.  Some sweet bro in a white suit came in.  Ugh.  He looked like the kind of person who has blue flames and an iron cross painted on his surfboard.  I guarantee you he has something like “the chicks dig it” airbrushed on his 1997 Mustang.  He examined me (and said some things that totally skeeved me out) and concluded that there was “nothing to be done” and that I would have to just endure constant contractions for the next 6 weeks.  Uh, right.  He also mentioned that the discomfort “couldn’t really be that bad”.  I wanted to rip his perfectly sculpted chin beard OFF OF HIS FACE.  Has he ever had a contraction?  Don’t get me started on this skeezeball.  What a freaking loon.  I was diagnosed with “preterm contractions” and sent home with a pat on the back and some tylenol.  The weak kind, too.  Not even extra strength.

I got in to see my real doctor today.  She took me seriously, which was a nice change.  She told me that the contractions aren’t harmful to the baby, just annoying and uncomfortable for me, so they should be fine…except I would have no idea when I was really in labor.  Since the contractions are so regular and constant, I basically feel like I’m in the early stages of labor everyday.  No big…just like a trip to Disneyland.  I’m having the time of my life over here.  Anyway, she prescribed some medication that will stop the preterm contractions happening.  The nice thing is that when I really go into labor, the medication won’t be able to stop real contractions and I’ll know that it’s go-time.

In other news, my big pimpin husband got a new calling, I need an external hard drive for my laptop, and today I made the ugliest (but still super delicious) toffee ever.  That’s all she wrote.


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christmas is coming…

…the belly’s getting fat!

Just so you know, I had to lean waaaaay over to see my new (very comfortable) shoes that I snagged at Nordstrom Rack on black friday.  We did buy one other item that day, and it’ll be delivered tomorrow…so expect another post on that soon 🙂

In other news, we bought a rocking chair for our baby girl’s room!  It’s super comfortable and upholstered in the happiest green fabric I have ever seen.  I’ll admit I’m pretty dang proud of this find- it is in perfect condition and has all of the original upholstery and hardware from when it was originally manufactured at a local San Diego furniture company.  It rocks and spins and even came with a cute bundle of vintage pillows.  Here’s a shot of it in the shop before we brought it home:

Last thing I have to share is the Christmas craft that Gav was so sweet to help me with.  Being this pregnant keeps me from rearranging furniture and cooking extravagant meals this holiday, so I’ve gotten slightly crafty.  Blame it on the boredom (at least I’m blogging more, right?? Two days in a row has to count for something).  It was a pretty simple project- wrap a foam wreath in yarn, make flowers out of felt, and glue them on.  Anyway, here’s the project halfway through:

I can’t get the pictures of the final product to upload, and I’m running out of patience, so I”ll try again tomorrow…maybe…

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update, update!

I have been royally awful at updating our blog.  I just don’t feel like much has changed…

oh, wait.  We moved into a new place in a new town, my belly is getting bigger everyday, and TONS of things are changing.  So here’s the scoop:

Our new place is great.  A littler further inland (like three minutes…I’m such a baby), but it’s twice the size of our tiny loft by the beach, it has a great big kitchen and there is an extra bedroom for our tiny babe!  Gavin’s favorite part is the garage.  It’s my favorite too…because it means we don’t have any surfboards on the floor in the living room.  Other perks include our own washer and dryer, an enormous master bedroom, and we can paint (!!!).  The living room is still under construction (christmas crafts galore!) but I’ll post some pictures after we get our Christmas tree this weekend. 

As far as the pregnancy goes, everything was smooth sailing…and then i got super sick.  Allergies, asthma, and cold weather combined with an intense cold that took me out for about two and a half weeks.  Late last Saturday night I was coughing super hard and my poor body decided it couldn’t take it anymore.  I started showing signs of preterm labor.  I chalked it up to being sick and needing more sleep.  I’m a chronic under-reactor.  Gavin didn’t buy it.  He’s definitely the worrier in this relationship.  By morning we (read: Gavin) decided I needed to go get checked out, so we headed to the hospital.  It was pouring rain when we got to the ER and I was openly annoyed and wanted to just turn around and go home.  I was super embarrassed by the time we got to see a doctor.  I felt like I was taking up a bed for real sick people, and was super apologetic to everyone I saw.  The nurses were pretty amused that I kept telling them how sorry I was when they had to take my pulse or check the machines monitoring my contractions.  Gavin ended up having to say a lot of things like “yes, she is always like this” and “it’s okay, honey, it’s their job”.

After a short wait, the on-call OBGYN came in to check on the baby and examine me.  (IF YOU ARE A BOY OR ARE GENERALLY GROSSED OUT BY BODY PARTS, SKIP THE NEXT FEW PARTS OF THE STORY.  THAT MEANS YOU, DAD.  SPOILER ALERT:  IT ALL TURNS OUT OK)  I figured she would check me quickly, tell me everything was fine, give me a lollypop and send me on my way.  I couldn’t wait to rub it in Gavin’s face the whole way home.  It didn’t really go down that way.  After checking things out, the doctor told us that I would need to be moved into the maternity ward to be monitored.  Apparently I was dilated a little more than 1 centimeter and had lost my mucous plug (Ickkkk, I know.  You can’t say I didn’t warn you).  Whatever you do, DON’T google “mucous plug”.  You’ll regret it.  I’ll tell you what it is so you can avoid looking it up:  it’s basically a layer of mucous that the body develops wayyy up in your business by the baby.  It’s in place to protect the baby from infection or bacteria.  There.  That wasn’t too bad, was it?  (YOU CAN START READING AGAIN HERE, DAD) Gavin asked the lady doc if everything was ok, and I quickly jumped in and answered “Oh yeah, hun.  This is totally normal.  My body is just preparing for labor.  This happens to everyone, right?”  The answer was no.  I was only 32 weeks at the time, and that’s really too early for anything to be going on down in the baby incubator.  Dang.  So, Gavin was right (when was that even allowed to happen???) and the hospital was where I needed to be.  I was wheeled down to labor and delivery, which was super freaky.  Gavin started saying fun and exciting things like “What if the baby comes today?” and “You can go into labor any minute!”  Ermmmm…wow.  I got to be on monitors for 4 hours, and examined like 40 more awkward and humiliating times.  Another fun highlight was when an ER nurse took my pulse right on top of the spot where someone had just drawn blood.  Yeeeeooowwwch.  

On the brighter side, the maternity ward at Scripps Encinitas is nothing short of amazing.  We were so impressed.  Our nurse was a sweetheart, the room was private and huge, and the whole place felt so fancy.  (Note: the juice at Scripps Encinitas is so so SO delicious.  HELLO passionfruit-guava with crushed ice.  They even have bendy straws.  Are you listening to me, people??? I said crushed ice and bendy straws!!!).  At the end of the day, the doctor decided it would be safe to send me home under the condition that I met with my own baby doctor first thing in the morning.

 Long story….trying to shorten it…basically she isn’t going anywhere for now.   I’ve been put on “modified bedrest”  which is just a fancy way of saying “take it easy, big mama”.  Fine by me.  I’m currently cuddled up on the couch with my down comforter switching back and forth between Top Chef and Paula Deen’s cooking show.  Am I drooling??  Consequently, I have come to the conclusion that I need more mashed potatoes, butter, poached pears and semifreddo in my life.  TV can be so convincing.


Filed under Baby, Holidays, Husband, Pregnancy, Uncategorized, Wifey

Allow me to preach a little

Okay, so pregnancy “glow” isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  More like pregnancy “shine”…as in oily teenager skin.  The kind that peels and is dry in some places too, you know, just because.  The hormones of my youth are back in action and cursing my pores on the daily.  I have been wearing Lancome products all of my (short) adult life, and use their tinted moisturizer instead of foundation.  Since my second trimester has started, my oil production has kicked into overdrive, and I usually end up looking like I doused my face with bacon grease by the end of the day (sorry for the visual- just trying to give you guys the full effect here).  To make matters worse, I recently cut bangs, and they end up looking like dreadlocks after only a few hours.

I slid into Nordstrom yesterday on a oil slick, rushing to the Lancome counter to lament my woes to the saleslady.  She was older, and very sweet.  She looked at me over the bifocals that had started to slide down her nose and whispered gently, “My manager would kill me for saying this, but you don’t need Lancome, my dear.  You need Kiehls.”

And thus began my journey toward new skin.  The Kiehls salesgirl (Melyssa, my new BFF obviously) introced me to the Sodium PCA Oil-Free Moisturizer…basically liquid gold.  Check it out here.  It’s gentle and light, and within ONE DAY (I’m serious, you guys) my pores are visibly smaller.  It’s 2:30, I’m not even a little bit greasy, all thanks to this little treasure:

She also got me started with their tinted moisturizer, which has SPF protection, feels light on my skin, and stays put while I’m working all the live long day.  On top of all this, Kiehls products are a FRACTION of the cost of Lancome products.  I may never go back.  They’re not even paying me to say this, you guys.  Melys (BFF’s always need a nickname.  Always.) gave me some free samples of other products, and I am HOOKED.  But that’s for another post…called my birthday wishlist.

Over & out.


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