I Was a Chubby Kid

This past week, Justin's mom was in town visiting, so we decided to take a little day trip down to Charlottesville to see Monticello.  For those of you who don't know, that's the house that Thomas Jefferson lived in.  Charlottesville is also where the University of Virginia is located, so we knew we could count on there being much better restaurants than the straight-up burbs where we live.  Lo and behold, we found a Raising Cane's, only one of the best chicken finger restaurants on the planet.  I say "one of" because I'm an Aggie, and any Aggie knows that Layne's in College Station is really the best.  While I was getting Maggie all settled into her high chair, I overheard a conversation between a mom and teenage daughter.  Just to set the scene, the daughter was mildly overweight, and the mom was fairly in shape but dressed like she was trying to get a man about ten years younger.  There conversation went something like this--

Mom:  I'm going up to order.  What do you want?
Daughter:  The 4 piece basket.

Mom:  Four?? Oh, honey, are you sure you should have that many?
Daughter:  *slightly embarrassed*  Yes, Mom...
Mom:  Well, okay..

I tried my best to not look at the girl as she sat in the booth waiting for her mom to return, but  I couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable she looked all of a sudden.  She wasn't wearing anything form-fitting, but as she was sitting there, she began tugging at her shirt so as to not let it cling to her stomach.  I felt bad for the girl.

Growing up, I was pretty chubby.  I was also always very short for my age.  Sort of like Danny DeVito, but not as bald.  My weight gain probably started around third grade and continued well into middle school.  The summer before I started high school, I lost 40 pounds, but that's a story for another time.  My sister, on the other hand, has always been tall and very thin.  At our annual checkups, the doctor would ask her if she thought she was fat, probably concerned that my sister was unhealthy and just not eating.  In reality, she used to dip her finger in the tub of butter and lick it off her fingers.  No lie.  I was approached with the opposite problem.  The doctor was always concerned about me being overweight and if I was getting enough exercise or eating too much.  I probably did eat too much.  I say did like it's not a problem anymore.  Who am I kidding?  I frequently eat too much.  My well-meaning parents would often make comments about things that probably weren't a good idea for me to eat or order at restaurants.  I remember one time eating at KFC as a family, and they ordered me some sort of grilled nonsense and got my sister the normal fried drumsticks.  Either she felt bad for me, or I made her do it, I don't recall.  But what I remember was her peeling off the fried part and smuggling it to me in napkins under the table so I could eat it without my parents noticing.  I wasn't oblivious to how I looked.  I just loved food way too much to do anything about it.  Plus, this was from the ages of about 9-13, so I didn't have a huge say in my meal choices or even much knowledge about what food did to my body.  I remember feeling so embarrassed when my parents would make comments about how I shouldn't eat this or order that, but my sister was allowed to eat whatever she wanted.  Obviously, they meant well.  I know their desire was not to embarrass me and that they just wanted me to be healthy.  But as a parent, how do you approach weight with your preteen daughter without embarrassing her?  I honestly don't think it can be done.  Seeing the interaction between the mom and daughter in Cane's brought back all those memories for me.

I hope to be able to teach Maggie healthy eating habits.  I think my parents' method was "clean your plate",  which is fine, but I started over-filling my plate from the beginning and then eating all of it at every meal.  I could (and still can) put it away like a 6-foot-tall teenage boy.  I'm not sure how to go about teaching Maggie how to view food as something that fuels our bodies and not something we go to for comfort or out of boredom, because often times I am guilty of that.  I want to teach her that food can make us strong, but it can also destroy us if we aren't wise.  That has to start with her observing good habits of mine.  She already sits with us at the dinner table and watches every bite I take.  It's convicting to think that she's probably not learning the best already, but thankfully she's still little enough for me to change and create better habits for myself.

I can tell there's another post already forming in my brain about my long-lasting love triangle with food and dieting..                       

Why I Used To Not Want Kids

There is a fine line between venting and complaining.  I think social media normally serves as an outlet for complaining.  I've definitely been guilty of it.  We complain about a whole range of things, from the weather to presidential candidates.  Something I see pretty often are articles about our kids.    Generally, they are written humorously, but they always have a tone of annoyance.  I also see personal posts about how annoying the kids were today and hubby better hurry up and come home if he knows what's good for him.  I know I haven't been at this mom gig for that long, but I get it.  There are days when Maggie is just being straight up cranky and it seems like nothing I do can make her happy.  There are days when 4pm rolls around and I'm about ready to lose my mind because she has only taken two 30-minute naps and she's taking it out on me.  But when she does nap, I'm alone and my house is quiet.  I don't know what it's like for you moms who have 3 or 4 or 10 kids who are never on the same schedule and you don't get a second of peace and quiet until you go to bed at night, and maybe not even then.  I'm not pretending to know what your crazy life is like.  But whether you have 1 kid, 10 kids, or no kids, can we all just agree on something?  I don't think anyone really enjoys scrolling through their news feed and seeing just how obnoxious your kids were today.  I appreciate the freedom that we all have to speak our minds on various social media platforms, but to be honest, sometimes there is such a thing as being a little too open.  Now let me say, there are times I see things about how your kid got ahold of the tissue box and has strewn them about all over the floor.  Or maybe your son found the chocolate syrup and has filled a pan and is now trying to see if his feet will stick to the bathroom floor (I may or may not have done this when I was little).  By all means! Share it! I think that stuff is hilarious and sometimes we just need to laugh or else we will cry, amirite?  But I think we all know the difference between the little shenanigans our kids get into and the tireless complaining we see sometimes.  I think there is definitely a time and place for getting it off your chest just how crazy your day has been.  Sometimes that may mean reaching out on social media, but in a way that still makes your kids look like..well..KIDS and not like they are personally out to get you.  I am all for hiding in the bathroom with chocolate and calling your best friend and crying about how Junior crushed Oreos and Goldfish into the carpet while looking you dead in the eye.  Girlfriend, I get it.  I will surely be there one day very soon.  But I have to be honest about something.  There was a time not too long ago when I didn't think I even wanted kids.  You know why?  All the complaints I would see on social media.  So many women made being a mom look so miserable.  Why would I willingly put myself through that?  I don't expect sunshine and roses all the time, but come on, is it really that bad?  I never understand the whining because in reality, is anyone really forcing you to stay at home with your children?  You could always go get a job and hire a nanny or take your preschool aged kids to daycare.  There are plenty of women who don't have a choice.  They would give anything to be at home with their babies, but instead they have to work to help support their families.  And here you are, with the freedom to choose to stay home, yet you are complaining about how your kids are annoying you today and your husband is having a guy's night again instead of helping you with bedtime.  This did not sound like a life I wanted anything to do with.  Once God worked on my heart and I had heart talks with a few friends, I promised myself that if I had children, I would never complain about them on social media.  I didn't promise not to call a friend and vent.  I didn't promise to enjoy every minute.  I didn't promise not to get annoyed and lose my patience.  What I did promise was to speak encouragement.  I promised that I would always be uplifting and treat them with respect.  The last thing I want is for people to think that my life is perfect, but I also don't think it's necessary to bombard social media with more negativity, especially at the expense of my daughter and husband.  Being a mom is far from glamourous, but it's also far from miserable.  I don't love every minute, but I love my sweet girl.  In a world that is sure to tear her down, I never want to be one adding to it.  I want to build her up and be her biggest fan.  I want to tell her she's beautiful and smart and funny.  And I want the world to know it as well, and thankfully through social media I can do just that.  

What Not To Say To A New Mom

Over the course of the last 6 months (and before that even) I have been asked quite a few questions that probably shouldn't have been asked.  All were meant well, but for some reason still bothered me a little bit.  Honestly, I have probably asked these questions to one mom or another!  If you know someone who is expecting, do her a favor and keep these questions to yourself.

1.  Are you excited?

     I got this one A LOT when I was pregnant.  What a loaded question.  Like, what if I said, "Actually, no.  I'm not excited."  Maybe it was always meant to be rhetorical given that there's clearly only one answer.

2.  How are you feeling?

     I can't even count how many times I got asked this when I was pregnant.  Most people wouldn't find this annoying, so don't feel like you can never ask this question!  The first time a person would ask was fine, but sometimes the same people would ask me every time I saw them.  It took everything in me to not respond with, "Same as the last time you asked." or "Fine. How are YOU feeling?"  Justin never understood my annoyance with this question.  He would be like "Yeah...how dare they care about how you're feeling!"  Maybe it was just pregnancy hormones.    

3.  Are you breastfeeding?  

    This question is innocent enough I guess.  I felt like had I said no, I would have gotten more questions as to why not.  My favorite is when people gesture to their breasts when they ask...like I need clarification.  I would steer clear of this question unless you are close with the person, otherwise, it's not really any of your business.

3.  Are you getting any sleep?  

    Listen.  Are you listening?  I mean like stop every other thought in its tracks and listen to me real hard.  Don't you DARE ask a new mother this question.  Especially in the first few weeks.  You know the answer.  Now, if you are genuinely concerned about the mother's well-being, try saying something like, "I would be more than happy to come over and hold the baby any time so you can take a nap."  None of this smug "you look tired" nonsense I got way too many times.  

5.  Is he/she a good baby?

    I'm not quite sure what you mean by "good baby".  Are you asking if she never cries?  Does she fall asleep the second I lay her down?  Does she keep her milk down and not projectile spit-up all over me?  If those are the makings of a good baby, then no.  She's the worst.  

6.  Are you just obsessed with him/her?

     If you read my previous post about the hard things nobody told me, then you understand why this was such a tough question for me to answer.  At the time, not many people knew how I was struggling to bond with my daughter.  They didn't know that I wanted to say no but instead put on a happy face and told them that I was, indeed, quite obsessed.  After my experience, I will never again assume that any mother is immediately obsessed with their child.  

7.  So...when's the next one?

     Even if this is meant as a joke, it's hardly funny.  After pushing out a person from my nether regions, the last thing on my mind was doing it all over again anytime soon.

8.  Is this [insert baby's name]?
     Nope.  I found this one.  My child is at home.  Let's use a little common sense, people. 

If you're reading this and you think Dang it.....I asked her that.  Please don't feel bad!  I know you meant well.

What's the craziest thing someone has said to you when you were pregnant or first starting out as a parent?

On Private School

From Pre-K until I graduated high school, I went to a private Christian school.  I can't say if I enjoyed it or not, as it was all I ever knew and had nothing to compare it to.  I can, however, say that it definitely had its pros and cons.  For example, in a public school, I don't think I would have been able to play all the sports that I did, and I certainly wouldn't have been elected Homecoming Queen.  I most likely wouldn't have had as many teachers who placed their faith as the main priority in their classrooms.  I wouldn't have had the opportunity to be taught the Bible as part of the main curriculum each year.  Let's zero in on that last one.  As much as I admire the idea behind a Bible-centered curriculum, it ended up not being such a great thing.  I vividly remember my frantic attempts to memorize entire chapters of the Bible that I would be tested on, in the same way I would cram for a Biology exam.  I would write in my daily devotional journal, editing how I really felt because I knew my teacher would be reading and grading it.  In elementary school, memorizing Scripture was more of a game.  Our grades were more participatory, in that we would have a new verse each week and on Fridays would recite the verse out loud together as a class.  Once we got to middle and high school, memorizing Bible verses became more rigorous.  Instead of reciting one new verse each week as a class, we would add on a few verses each week and every Friday would write it from memory.  In theory, I get it.  They wanted us to get in the habit of memorizing Scripture.  I understand the importance of this discipline, but in reality, all it did was create a negative association in my mind.  When the Bible is just another textbook for so long, it becomes a challenge to view it as something to be delighted in.  I have been out of high school for eight years, and it is still difficult for me to find joy in sitting and meditating on God's Word.  Writing in a prayer journal still holds memories of censoring my thoughts and feelings for fear I would write something that would only afford me a C.  Reading my Bible brings me back to scribbling verses onto scratch paper and shoving it into my desk for reference.  Yes, I occasionally cheated on my Bible memory tests.  Oh, the irony.  I also believe that being educated in such a bubble did me the disservice of viewing people who drank, smoked, and slept around as lesser than myself.  Every so often, a new student would come to our school who seemingly had been given the choice between a juvenile detention center or private school.  I believed these people were to be avoided at all costs.  That being said, I had no close contact with non-Christians until I went to college.  I feel like 12 years of my life were wasted stuffing myself with biblical knowledge and not putting any of it to use.  I could quote hundreds of verses, rap the books of the Bible, and give you any church answer that was appropriate for the situation, but none of that mattered.  I am thankful for my parents paying so much money for my sister and I to receive an education in an environment that honored God, but I think when it comes time for Justin and I to decide where Maggie will go to school, I think we will choose public.  I want her to crave to know Scripture, but not because she fears a failing grade.  I want her to hide God's Word in her heart, but not in a gluttonous way so as to not share it with those who need it most.  I want her to pour her heart out to the Lord in whatever way she wants, without feeling the need to censor herself.  Most importantly, I want her to be a light in the darkness, not just another candle in a blazing furnace.        

I'm right here

For the first 6 weeks or so of Maggie's life, she hated being put down.  This was fine when she was awake, but when it came time for her to take a nap or go to bed for the night, it got a bit exhausting.  Justin and I had to eat in shifts for breakfast and dinner, but for lunch while he was at work, I had to get really good at doing pretty much everything one-handed.  In hindsight I probably could have worn her around the house, but what's done is done.  Eventually she allowed us to put her in the God-send known as the Rock 'N Play.  That's where she slept for naps and bedtime for a while, and then we finally decided it was time to transition her to her crib.  For those of you who don't know, a Rock 'N Play is basically a snuggly little bed that rocks back and forth.  Her crib is neither snuggly or mobile, so for those reasons, she hated it.  Maybe Maggie dislikes change as much as I do.  During this transition, she would just cry and cry as soon as I put her down in the crib.  She could be almost sound asleep in my arms and as soon as her booty hit the mattress, she was wide awake and screaming.  Most of the time I would just stand there and watch her for a few minutes, which probably wasn't the best option because she obviously knew I was still there and was just choosing not to solve her problem.  I'm still new to this.  Don't judge me.  One day during the usual routine, I started losing my patience.  I said in a somewhat-stern-but-not-that-loud voice, "Why do you keep screaming like I've abandoned you?? I'm right here!  I haven't gone anywhere!"  I've always heard that God often uses experiences with our children to teach us things, and this was one of the many times already that has happened for me.  As soon as the words came out of my mouth, my very next thought was Okay, God.  I get it.  It's no secret that I miss my family and friends in Texas.  Having a baby that they only get to see a few times a year makes it that much harder.  Add on to that the fact that my parents are in their 70s and there's a sense of anxiety that I have to fight daily.  I know God has a plan for me in Virginia.  But it also hurts that his plan for me here is at the expense of my elderly parents getting to see their granddaughter.  It doesn't seem fair.  I have screamed and cried at God to fix it, but it doesn't seem to be in His plan right now.  My heart longs to be content and joyful, but it's hard.  In that moment standing next to my daughter's crib, He spoke to me through my own words.  I'm right here.  This place is uncomfortable and unfamiliar, but it is where you need to be right now.  So much growth has taken place in my heart over the past 3 years of living here.  I have met people whom I have grown to love.  I've been able to fulfill my dream of coaching volleyball.  We brought our daughter home from the hospital to the little townhouse that just 3 years ago was empty, but that we are slowly filling with memories.  I am thankful for His perfect timing.  I am thankful for His perfect plan.  I am thankful that He is big enough for my questions and doubt.  I am thankful that He has put people in our lives here to love us like family.  Virginia, you still have yet to really feel like my home, but for the foreseeable future, I'm right here.               

Mommy (or Daddy) must-haves

If there's anything I've learned in the past 5 months, it's how to streamline my diaper bag.  I thought I'd take a minute to share the top 5 things Justin and I find ourselves reaching for when it comes to Maggie.  I had to specify 'for Maggie' because for ourselves, it would probably be cupcakes or ice cream.  There are plenty of other things we use, but these are our most commonly used items.

1.  BURP CLOTHS
     This one can't be bolded, underlined, and capitalized enough.  We probably go through 3 or 4 cloths a day.  She probably spits up more than the typical baby, though.  We have learned to have one within arms reach at all times.

2.  Bibs
     Along the same lines as burp cloths. It's always easier to change a wet bib than constantly changing wet outfits.

3.  Diapers/Wipes
     I don't think I should have to elaborate.

4.  Clothes
     You never know when there's going to be a disgusting poop blowout.

5.  Bottle
     I'm still a little shy about nursing in public, even with a cover.  We always make sure to have a bottle on hand, especially if we are driving somewhere longer than 30 minutes away and she starts to fuss in the car.

What are/were your most used baby items?

The hard things nobody told me

For most of my life, I knew I wanted to be a mom.  For no specific reason other than that was just something I thought women were supposed to do.  You grow up, get married, and have babies.  Preferably in that order.  Once I came close to graduating from college, I realized very quickly that I didn't have a career choice in mind.  I figured I would just work odd jobs here and there until my husband and I decided to have a baby.  I assumed because I didn't have a clear job calling, that being a mom was what I was created to do.  While I still believe that to be true, I discovered some difficult truths during my first few days, weeks, and months of motherhood that I was not informed could happen.  Some of these may not be true for everyone, or some may feel quite the opposite, but this is my blog, so I share what I want.  I share this because I desire to be honest and not sugarcoat my life and feelings.  

1.  I wasn't immediately obsessed with my daughter like I thought I'd be.
     Was she beautiful? Obviously.  But that was all I knew about her.  In most relationships, it takes me a while to open up.  I am by no means an open book.  In a way, you have to prove your loyalty to me before I share my heart with you.  Sorry.  It is what it is.  So even though I carried Maggie around as part of my body for 9 months, it still felt like I was meeting this new person for the first time.  This surprised me.  I'll blame part of it on shock and hormones.

2.  The exhaustion is so real.
     I remember very little from the first few days.  Ironically, sleeping was never an issue for Maggie.  She would have slept for hours at a time if we had let her.  When we took her in for her newborn checkup, she had lost more weight than the doctor would have liked.  Nothing drastic, but we had to wake up her up every two hours to feed her to make sure she gained weight, and that was two hours from the beginning of each feeding.  So let's say she started eating at 12, but it took her an hour to eat, and 30 minutes to get her back to sleep.  It's now 1:30 and the whole routine is supposed to start all over in 30 minutes.  This continued for two weeks.  TWO. WHOLE. WEEKS.  I know for some, their baby has a hard time sleeping well into the first year, and to you I say, I am so sorry.  Those two weeks were torture.  I can't imagine doing it for a year or more.

3.  I missed my old life.
     Having a baby was supposed to bring so much joy and happiness.  For me, I would have given anything just to be able to walk around Target for hours or go inside to order food instead of taking the crowded drive-thru.  Before, Justin and I could leave for a weekend trip or even just go to a movie anytime we felt like it.  Now even the shortest outings were a huge ordeal.  Did you get the diaper bag?  Did you get Froggy (our beloved Wubbanub pacifier that has saved us many times)?  Did you get the baby?  Kidding.  I have yet to forget her somewhere.  I was so confused as to why I wasn't enjoying my time with her as much as I thought I should have.  I equated it to going through a really hard breakup.  I knew life with her was going to be better than life without her, but I still couldn't help but miss the way life was before.  I was mourning the loss of my freedom.

4.  Oh, the crying.
     Not from her.  Me.  I don't think I've ever cried so much as I did those first few weeks.  I found myself hiding in places in the house where there were no baby things and just ugly crying.  I craved normalcy as I was adjusting to the new normal.  I remember my first outing to Target by myself.  I had to get something for Maggie and she was hungry so I had to rush in and out.  I cried all the way there, all the way through the store, and all the way home.  That poor cashier.

5.  I got a little jealous.
    I don't share well.  In elementary and middle school, I would get so upset if I knew that a girl who was supposed to be my best friend spent the night at someone else's house without me.  I was never really a jealous girlfriend, and I'm definitely not a jealous wife, but once I saw Justin adoring Maggie, something snapped.  Call it primal instinct, I don't know.  Part of me thought it was precious how much he loved her, and the other part was so jealous.  I still have yet to completely figure that one out.

Let me add a small conclusion/disclosure.  I realize that all this sounds SO selfish.  I know there are so many women in the world who would give anything to have a baby, but for whatever reason, aren't able to.  The point of this post is to share my heart and my struggles for those of you who may be expecting and are tired of only hearing things like "having a baby is such a blessing!" and need a little hard truth spoken in your direction.  Or maybe some of you are like me and need to hear that you're not alone.   Five months in, I can confidently say that Maggie is the biggest blessing in my life.  It just  took me a little longer than I expected to get there.  But now I can't imagine life any other way.                

Birth Story

Well, friends, here I am again.  It's been awhile. Over a year to be exact.  A lot has happened in the past year.  I found out I was pregnant. With a baby. Then 5 months ago I delivered said baby.  So there's that.  I decided it was finally time to sit down and write (type) out my birth story, because Lord knows it's already starting to become just a big blur.  I will try to be detailed without being too detailed.

Let's start on February 4th around 1:00pm.  I went in for my 37 week check-up.  The doctor said everything was fine, but that I was already 3cm dilated.  She didn't seem alarmed by it, but also wasn't betting money on me coming back for another check-up in a week.  I went on with my business as usual the rest of the day.  Fast forward to 3:30am.  I woke up for probably the third time that night to use the bathroom, because that's what happens when you have a tiny human sitting on your bladder.  I drowsily walked into the bathroom, and as soon as I was about to sit down, I heard a faint 'pop' and what I can only describe as a splash of water onto the floor.  Being in the delirious half-sleeping state that I was, I thought Great...I peed on the floor.  But then as I went to get a towel to mop up the "pee", it kept coming.  I was obviously alert by this point, so I knew I wasn't peeing.  I probably spent 10 minutes Googling "what does it feel like when your water breaks" before I was convinced that's what it was.  I still wasn't having contractions either.  I called the hospital and asked them if I needed to come in.  They told me to call my OB.  I reminded them that it was 4am and my doctor's office was closed...duh.  So I called anyway and left a message for the attending physician.  I waited another 20 minutes and no return call, so I said screw it and woke up Justin.  It was a pretty chill exchange really.  It went something like this:

Me:  Hey. Wake up. I think my water broke.
Justin:  Are you sure?
Me:  Either that or I peed on myself.  But I don't think that's it.
Justin:  Okay.  I'll pack a bag.

I had been packed for weeks, but being the typical man that he is, he just needed to throw a shirt and a toothbrush in his bag and he was good to go.  I decided to take this time to put on my makeup and do my hair a little bit, because you know, priorities.  We finally left the house around 4:30.  On the way there, Justin asked me if I was having contractions, and I calmly told him, "I mean, it hurts every few minutes I guess."  Not at all the drive to the hospital I was envisioning.  We got there and they wheeled me in to the room and checked to make sure I was actually in labor, which I was.  They gave me a gown and a bag to put my clothes in and told me to change in the bathroom.  Again, super chill.  Once I was changed, I laid down in the bed and they got me all hooked up to the IV and whatever other medical things they were doing.  It was probably 5:00 by this point.  The contractions were getting a little stronger at this point, but nothing unbearable.  I had 12 years of orthodontic work, so I know pain.  I waited about another hour while watching Say Yes to the Dress, then I would say my pain was about a 7 or 8.  Side note: watching SYTTD while in labor results in thinking terrible thoughts about the women who complain about how fat they look in lovely dresses while sipping champagne.  I was crying a little bit so Justin went out to find a nurse and ask about an epidural.  I was under the impression it was a one-time shot that wore off, so I was supposed to wait as long as possible.  Once I was informed that it was, in fact, given through a port continuously, I was like SIGN ME UP.  Honestly, the epidural was probably the most painful part of the whole experience.  Mainly because all my contractions were in my lower back, and trying to sit up straight and keep still was rough.  When all that was said and done, it was around 7:30 or 8:00, and I was about 5cm dilated.  I figured I'd have awhile to go, so I tried to take a nap.  The nurse told me to let her know when I felt like I REALLY had to poop.  The kind where it's coming out SOON and you've got to find a bathroom immediately.  I got that feeling around 9-9:30, so she came in to check me and told me I was at 9cm and it was time for some practice pushes.  We did that for about 30 minutes (I think).  It could have been longer.  Like I said, it's a blur.  All I know is that I heard the phrases "I see a lot of hair!" and "Stop pushing! I'm going to get the doctor."  That's right...the nurse did all the dirty work.  The doctor came in to catch the baby and clean me up.  I didn't really care who did it, because at 10:37am, it was over.  Maggie Lane came out weighing 6 pounds, 10 ounces and was 18 inches long.   She was perfect and covered in white goo and made cooing noises on my chest and it was perfect.  When she came out, Justin said "you made that look easy!"  I guess that's because it really was!  I guess I was expecting hours of agony and screaming, but even throughout the whole pushing process I don't think I even uttered any sort of noise indicating I was in pain (which I wasn't...thanks epidural!)  I know it could have been super dramatic and scary, but to be honest, I would do that again over going to the dentist any day.  I feel like having such a great experience should be attributed to the fact that every single night we prayed for an easy delivery, and for some reason God granted that request.

So there you have it.  That's how Maggie Lane entered the world and changed our lives forever.  Another post to come on the things motherhood has taught me.