Didn't we just do this?

As we have been looking through some of the pictures we have taken this past week, I couldn't help but be reminded that we just did this. 13 1/2 months ago. Take a look for yourself...

McKay, ready to come home from the hospital


Carter, ready to come home from the hospital last year

Jeff holding McKay in the hospital


Jeff holding Carter in the hospital



My mom holding McKay, while helping with the kids



My mom holding Carter, while helping with the kids



Me snuggling baby McKay



Me snuggling baby Carter

Baby's Here 2.0!

Take a deep breath, here we go...

Last Sunday I started having contractions. They were about 5 minutes apart and weren't very hard and lasted about 2 hours. They stopped after that and I was grateful. There were still a lot of things I needed to get done before baby decided it was time to come. We were hoping to make it until Friday, when Jeff was finished with work and my mom got here.

Tuesday I got out of my sweats for the first time in days and decided I better take a picture. It had been a while. So, here's my last pregnant picture.


At this point, I was plus 30 pounds from the beginning of pregnancy, and I weighed the same as I did when I delivered Carter.

On Wednesday, I went in to my doctor's appointment and I was dilated to 2+. We decided to go ahead and schedule an induction for Monday morning if we needed it. I was still hoping to go on my own during the weekend. For the rest of the day on Wednesday, I was having contractions off and on, about every 10 minutes. They were harder than the ones I had on Monday night, but they weren't very consistent and still not THAT hard (I was lying on the couch watching American Idol and described them as "uncomfortable" to Jeff). I took a bath and got in bed around 11:30, hoping that they would taper off enough so I could go to sleep. I think I fell asleep around 12:00. At 2:00, I woke up with a hard contraction. I knew that feeling. I had had it before with Allie, and I got up.

By 2:30, the contractions were coming every 2 minutes and they were the hardest yet. I had to stop and breathe (and ride the "wave") to get through them. I woke Jeff up and told him we needed to go to the hospital. He got up and got himself together and I tried to busy myself around the house, setting out the kids' St Patrick's Day outfits I had bought for them. Damon woke up and I told him we were going to the hospital. I wonder how much he remembers. My cousin, Monique, was on Spring Break and was actually still awake when I called. She got here just before 3:00 and my contractions were now every minute and lasting a minute. Yep, no turning back.

We got to the hospital and they wasted no time in getting me back and changed. When she checked me at 3:20, I was completely dilated and ready to push. Deja vu all over again. The nurse called my doctor and asked if I wanted an epidural. I told her I didn't think I needed it, but let's get the babies here.

My doctor got there around 4;00, broke my water, and we were off. I started pushing, but the little stinker was face up (like all my babies), and not descending into the birth canal. I was really in a lot of pain and could see that things weren't going to be as quick as I hoped. The nurses assured me I was doing great, and remarked that they were going to get me to swear before it was over. To which I quickly responded, "Get this damn baby out of me!" My doctor said, "the damn baby doesn't want to come down!"

I pushed for about 30 minutes (I would guess) and nothing was happening. I was getting so tired and was in a tremendous amount of pain. I would have said 10 out of 10 on the pain scale. But I didn't know the pain could get worse. The doc attempted to use forceps to help get the baby down farther, and that was the low point for me. I felt like I was literally going to be ripped apart from the inside. If someone ever wanted to torture another human being, that would be the way I would suggest they do it. Quickly, we could see that that wasn't going to work. The baby's heart rate was not tolerating all the pushing very well and the doctor had me "rest" on every other contraction, instead of pushing, to give the babe a chance to recover. Not pushing on a contraction is significantly harder than pushing, and I really was just finished with the whole thing. I decided that if the doctor said C-section, I was on board. I just wanted the baby to be okay and I wanted it over!

My doctor suggested I get an epidural and let my uterus do some of the pushing. We were hoping that the baby's heart rate would tolerate that a little better. I agreed. As I was getting the epidural, I still had the feeling that I was being prepped for a C-section if necessary, and I asked the nurse, "what do you think my chances are of having this baby without a C-section?" She said, "if anyone can get this baby out, it's Dr. Judd. He can do amazing things with forceps." I was a little hopeful again.

After about 30 minutes, I was finally feeling some relief. Actually, I was completely numb from the waist down and was feeling light headed. The epidural was spreading up my back and arms and I really wanted to sit up so I could feel better. But the baby's heart didn't like that very much, and started decelerating again. My doctor came right in and had me start pushing again. After a couple of pushes, he said, "I think I can get this kid out." And I started to really feel hopeful. About 20 minutes later, with a lot of pushing that I couldn't feel, the doctor said, "look down, there's your baby!" As I was looking down, Jeff said, "It's definitely a boy!"

After that, things were a blur. I know the baby was covered in green poop (for St Patrick's Day, of course) when he came out, but he was perfect. He started crying right away and didn't stop for a good 30-45 minutes. I guess he wasn't quite ready to be ripped from his cozy home. I know I cried with relief and happiness and that Jeff was grinning from ear to ear, knowing he had another baby boy.



Poor Jeff, though, he had to get to work by 8:00. He had 29 kids waiting to get their braces off, and he didn't want to have to reschedule them all. He had a long day, but I had a hard time feeling TOO sympathetic for him after what I had been through. He had told me before he left that he liked McKay and Austin as first names and that I could choose. John was going to be his middle name, after his great-grandpa John Thygerson. As I spent the morning holding him and loving him (and finally getting him to stop crying so I could see him), I just felt that McKay felt right. I also decided that, if Jeff didn't mind, I was going to spell him middle name Jon, not only after his great-grandpa, but also after my brother Jonathan. Jeff said that was okay with him, so McKay Jon Trapnell he became.


He weighed 8 lbs 3 oz (almost a pound bigger than my biggest baby, and probably the biggest reason he wouldn't descend into the birth canal) and was 20 inches long. Big boy. And a good reason why I shouldn't have any more. I'm convinced I'd end up with a C-section next time (and I don't think there will be a next time. I feel complete).


I got some pretty flowers from the girls at Jeff's office, probably as a thank you for sending him to work on time (haha).

So far, McKay has been such a sweet, perfect baby. From pictures, he seems to look a little like Kyla, but not really too similar to anyone. Here is a pic of Kyla at a few days old.

And here are a couple more from the last few days. Lots more to come...

Big Families

Yesterday was the most gorgeous day we have had in 2011. And once upon a time I promised the kidlets that we would go to the park when it was warm enough. Yesterday was the day. AND they wanted to walk.

I knew it was going to be hard, because, let's face it, I get winded going up and down the stairs (especially if I'm carrying my 25 lb "big boy" who can't be called a "baby" anymore), but I broke out the double stroller, some pretzels and water, and we were off.

We stopped along the way to pick up a friend who wanted to play, and my neighbor said, "Krystal, you have a lot of kids." All I could do was laugh and agree ("smile and wave, boys, smile and wave"--Penguins of Madagascar). I DO have a lot of kids. And we are 12 days (and 9 cm) away from having one more.

I once read a blog post about why big families are the best, and it really got me thinking about why I wanted to have so many kids (and come on, five kids isn't THAT many!). I hope I don't plagarize any of this particular blogger's work, but I don't feel like going back and reading everything she wrote, and seeing as I'm not intentionally trying to steal her thoughts, I think it will be fine.

So, without any more yapping from me, here are the reasons I think big families are the way to go:

1. MANIPULATION. You learn very early on how to be manipulative. There are many ways of manipulating (through guilt, promise of favors to come, promise of good behavior, etc), but they quickly learn them all. Kyla does work for Allie so she will have a playmate, Allie gives Damon erasers she has earned at school so that she can be "in the club," and Carter will do anything for Kyla for a cracker or a fruit snack.

2. PATIENCE. You learn that mom can't always get you what you want WHEN you want it, and you learn to wait. I always remind my kids that, while I wish I had multiple arms, I still have just the two and I will do the best that I can to get them what they need. This is most apparent at meal time, when someone always needs something and needs it now!

3. COOPERATION. You learn that sometimes your only two choices are "take it or leave it." Mom's not going to make you something different for dinner because you don't like meat and potatoes (Kyla) or cooked carrots (Damon). You either eat what everyone else is eating or you go to bed hungry. Also, when it comes to a job everyone is doing together, if you don't cooperate and pull your own weight, your siblings are your toughest police.

4. ACCEPTANCE. You learn that you aren't always going to get something that is only yours. You may never get anything new, but have to wear your sister's hand-me-downs or be forced ride your brother's old bike, and no amount of complaining will change that. Instead, you have to accept that your birthday and Christmas may be the only days you ever get to open something new. And that's perfectly fine.

5. VOCABULARY. Younger kids learn things from older siblings that parents would never teach. Your three-year old knows what it means to have a crush on Jimmer Fredette ("it means I want to kiss him"), and your five year old knows that "The N Word" means "nipples." It's the education you'll never receive in school. Or church.

6. TIME MANAGEMENT. You learn that every Sunday, time seems to be running out on mom. And when you see her running around frantically, her hair in curlers and only part-way dressed, you might want to start looking for your shoes. Because time is running out on you, too.

7. BUDGET. You learn that, because you aren't going to get everything you want, you had better save your money for something that you really want. Like a new set of Legos that your mom has said she'll never buy because your brother likes to eat them. Or an eraser your stubborn sister gave you, but took away because you were being mean.

8. EMPATHY. You learn that you have to gentle with crying babies, stern with bullying neighbors, and understanding with your upset mother. You learn that sometimes the irritated look on your sister's face means she really, really, REALLY wants you to stay away from her, and that when your brother follows you around whining he just wants to see what you are doing. Or eating.

9. FASHION SENSE. You learn that your older sister has the BEST taste in clothes. And that skirts with leggings are preferrable to pants any day.

10. COMPANIONSHIP. You learn that you will always have someone in your corner. Yes, they may treat you worst of all your friends from time to time, but they will always be on your side when it counts. In an argument against your parents, they will side with you. When you are trying to skirt bedtime, they will be your partner in crime. And when you need someone to comfort you when you are afraid of the dark, you'll always have that, too.

Pregnant Days

Jeff told me a couple of months ago that when he thinks of me (in general), he always thinks of me being pregnant. I laughed and said, "I haven't been pregnant THAT much." But today I decided to do a little math.

We have been married 3,848 days (10 years, 6 months plus). That's a lot of days.

I was pregnant with: Damon for 259 days.

Chance-145

Allie-271

Kyla-277

ectopic-30 (which I'm going to count because I thought I was pregnant)

Carter-264

Baby-260 and counting.

The grand total, as of today, is 1506. I have been pregnant for 1,506 days, or 39.1% of our married life. That is a lot, I must admit. Especially when I realize that I have been pregnant for 4.12 years. And if I were to add the time I spent nursing...well, that's a calculation for another day.

**

I hit 37 weeks yesterday. Gulp. My doctor checked to see if I was dilating yet. I'm not. And I'm very relieved. As I was waiting for the doc to come in, I was looking at all the baby pictures on the walls and I started to feel panicky. I'm REALLY not ready to have this baby. Physically, I have been ignoring everything I need to do. But yesterday I went and found the things I need to take to the hospital, and I even looked through the baby boy and girl clothes to pick out something to take with me. I tucked all those things safely away in my closet to think about later. But I took the first step.

Even more so, I am not emotionally ready for another baby. I have been a little bit sick the last few days (I think I finally caught the sore throat that my kids have all had) and feeling really tired. I mean, especially tired. Jeff teases me because after about 9:30 pm, I start to fall asleep. Especially if we are watching anything that doesn't make me laugh. Or if I'm not eating ice cream. But I have been feeling tired all the time lately. I know part of it is the sickness, but part of it is the third trimester blahs. The part that is supposed to make you WANT that baby out. And believe me, I don't want to be pregnant anymore. But given the options, I will take all the aches and pains for a little while longer if it means I can postpone the inevitable.

I know that probably sounds bad, and that I'm not excited for this little one to come to our family. I am excited. I'm just not ready. So, at this point, I would be happy to add 20 more days to the 1,506 I've already been pregnant. What's a few more?

Everyone Needs an Angel

The week that Carter was in the hospital was a busy week. An emotionally and physically draining week. It took me some time to recover. But it could have been a whole lot worse.

On Thursday (2-16), I had Kyla and Carter in the van heading down to Walgreens to fill Carter's prescription. I had a free code for Redbox, so I pulled in just in front of the kiosk and thought I'd jump out and see if there was anything worth getting. I had been there less than a minute, when I saw out of the corner of my eye my van starting to back out. I snapped my head around in time to see Kyla at the wheel and my mind quickly ran through several scenarios.

1. The van was going to back out into the street (not possible, but still ran through my head first).

2. The van was going to back into the row of cars on the other side of the parking lot (most likely).

3. Kyla was going to be hurt.

4. There was going to be significant damage to two vehicles.

5. Carter was going to be oblivious to the whole thing.

Knowing that in my present state, there was no way I was going to be able to chase after the van, I just stood and watched. And then the miracle happened. Kyla got the car back in drive and started heading back toward me. Quickly, I added a couple more scenarios to the list.

6. The van was going to hit the car parked next to me.

7. The van was going to continue through the parking space and run into the Redbox kiosk.

8. The van was going to continue on into the Walgreens.

9. Carter was going to, again, be oblivious to the whole thing.

As the van headed right back into its parking spot, I managed to get the door open and maneuvered my right leg inside. Kyla by this time was back in her seat, obviously finished with her driving experience. I hit the brake just as the van hit the curb, and subsequently, the yellow post on the sidewalk.

A couple was just pulling into the parking lot and asked if I was okay. Amazingly, everyone was. The bumper in front had a small crack in it (but that my have been from a month or two ago when a lady backed into me at DI in her brand new Lexus), but other than that, there was really no damage.

Kyla was hysterical. We had a long talk about how lucky she was that nothing bad had happened, and I ran through several of the scenarios with her when things could have turned out so badly. Gulping for air between each syllable, she asked, "Are...you...going...to...call...the...police?" I assured her that the police didn't need to get involved, to which she asked, "Are...you...going...to...tell...dad?" I told her I was. She then asked, "Are...you...going...to...tell...people?" I told her I didn't have to tell anyone else if she didn't want me to, but I most definitely had to tell dad.

After a while, she calmed down and gave me permission to share her story with others. Just not the police.

As I drove away (after getting Carter's meds), I couldn't help but feel so grateful that someone was looking out for my KyKy that day. I know that even if she had backed into another car, nothing serious would have happened. But it would have made that stressful week a whole lot worse. And that's why I told her that we are lucky that we have our own angel looking out for our family. Everyone needs an angel looking out for them.


**I needed a picture for this post, so I asked Kyla to pose for me. She told me today she wanted me to do her hair like a cheerleader. A half ponytail with a bow. And she took one look at herself in the mirror and said, "I DO look like a cheerleader!!"

Bball

Damon just finished his first season of basketball. It was very entertaining. Or torturous, depending on how you look at it. Damon is by no means the most skilled player on the team. He's also not the worst on his team. He's one of those kids that most of the parents who watched the game probably wouldn't be able to recognize once the game was over. He's just sort of there, not drawing attention to himself. And yes, sometimes playing with his hair.

The boys line up across from each other after every timeout and at the beginning of each quarter. This is so they know who they are supposed to be guarding. I know my nephew in Springville plays in a system of wristbands, where the man who is wearing your same color wristband is the man you are supposed to guard. Whatever works, I guess. Damon figured out the concept of guarding his man. He is an excellent "face guarder." Not so great at seeing where the ball is, but getting better.

The boys play on the skinny side of a junior high gym. And yet they are still playing 5 on 5. I think it's silly. I would suggest 4 on 4 on these little courts. I mean, no one is playing positions, so why cram 10 kids on half a court?

Also, there is no defending until the other team crosses the "half court" line. I do like this rule a lot, because it gives the kids a chance to actually play defense and not just steal the ball back and forth. And back and forth. Because you know that's what would happen.

A few things I didn't particularly care for:

1. Damon's coaches had the boys running a couple of plays, which is really cool. But the plays were usually for the "good" players and involved no passing whatsoever. Just clearing out or setting screens and letting the boys who could dribble and shoot a layup go to the basket. They worked well. But I would REALLY have loved to see some more passes. In this video clip, the tall boy actually passes the ball to Damon and Damon gets off a wild shot. I can't blame him for not being ready to catch the ball. This is probably one of 5 times (or fewer) anyone passed him the ball in 8 games.

2. 10 boys play on a team, and each boy is supposed to be guaranteed to play at least half the game. And for the most part, they did. BUT, when there were fewer than 10 boys, the coaches had to do some subbing. And the "good" players ALWAYS got to play significantly more than the rest of the boys. That was a little frustrating to me because how do you expect the other boys to get any better when they get to play so much less? Also, there were a couple of times when Damon got taken out of the game and he hadn't even played the full quarter. I know the coaches probably just lost track of who was supposed to be in when, but when he didn't even get to play half the game, it was frustrating.

3. It was, quite frankly, hard to watch Damon play. He tried hard and really improved, but he was so timid on the court. He has no killer instinct. He doesn't go get the ball. Which is why he only took a handful of shots all year, and most of those came from offensive rebounds. He did make one basket for his team (and one basket for the other team, a moment Jeff called "the low point of his fatherhood"), but mostly I just wanted to run out and tell Damon to be a LITTLE more aggressive. I guess I need to be more easy going as a sports mom. But it's hard.

I do think he'll play next year, because he seemed to really enjoy it. And, like football, he learned a lot about the game and wants to go to the church to practice with Jeff. So I count it as a positive experience.

This is just a random one I threw in because it makes me laugh. We had the scout Blue and Gold banquet last week and blue punch was served. Damon got a bit of a mustache.

LOVE

So, before Carter's croup so rudely interrupted my Valentine's bliss, I was mentally composing a post about all the things I love. And it was a good one. So clever and witty it would have made you laugh until a little pee came out. But you'll have to take my word on it, because I can literally remember none of it. Which means it probably wasn't really THAT good.

But I still wanted to write a little about the things I love. So, here goes "back up post that won't be as good as the one you were expecting."

THINGS THAT I LOVE

1. I love Snickers candy bars. And Oreos. And ice cream. I could eat them all every day if I allowed myself to have them in the house.

2. I love my iPhone. I never knew I needed one until I got one last year and now I fear I would be lost without it.

3. I love getting lost in a really good book. There are few things better in life.

4. I love watching basketball. I love playing basketball. I love March Madness.

5. I love quotable movies. I love that my siblings love that, too.

6. I love long, HOT showers and long HOT baths.

7. I love scoring great deals. And I love how that is becoming easier all the time with blogs, Facebook and the like.

8. I love piano music. I love listening to someone who is an amazing pianist. I love learning a song well enough that I can pretend I am an amazing pianist. And sometimes Alicia Keys, singing my little heart out.

9. I love a good juicy steak. And shrimp. And sushi.

10. I love the sunshine.

11. I love the number 11.

12. I love that my kids look alike. I love that they all have various shades of green (or blue) eyes like their daddy.

13. I love that my kids are all so different from one another. It makes me appreciate their little personalities so much more.

14. I love that my kids have each other. I always knew I wanted a big family, but sometimes I wonder what on earth I am doing with so many kids. Until I see them interacting, and laughing, and playing together. Then I remember.

15. I love that Jeff will watch The Bachelor with me and give his commentary on all the girls. And I love to remind him that he will probably never be chosen to BE the Bachelor because he has a wife and (almost) 5 kids.

16. I love that I'm so close with my brothers and sisters. I love that we can live far apart but still be such a huge part of each other's lives. I love knowing that they will always be there for me, and vice versa.

17. I love watching my baby grow up. I love watching him walk around the house naked or in only a diaper. He somehow manages to push both his belly and his behind out when he walks (presumably for balance), and it always makes me laugh. I love how he is getting so much better at walking and will wander in and out of every room in the house.

18. I love hearing my kids tell me they love me. I doubt I will ever get tired of it.

19. I love good friends who have helped me through so many challenges in life. I love knowing that even though time and distance may separate us, we will always stay close.

20. I love my life. I really do. Of course it's not perfect, and there are times I really wish I were someone (or somewhere) else, but mostly I feel so fortunate to have a life filled with satisfaction, enjoyment and, most of all, LOVE.

Valentines

I take no credit for the valentines the kids took to school this year. I mean, I'm sure you've seen this idea floating around for at least a year, if not two, but when I found out about a promo where you could get 25 free photo cards from seehere.com (just pay the shipping of about $4.99), I knew we had to do it. So, I had Damon and Allie pose for their pictures...

...and then we quickly made some cards and got them in the mail. Using a razor blade, we made slits above and below the fists, added some suckers, and VOILA! An unoriginal, yet still very cute, valentine.

Damon said a boy in his class who usually has a bad attitude about everything called it "a keeper." Mission accomplished.

NOTE: In the future, I would use Dum Dums. The blow pops were heavy and slipped out.

Hospital 2011

February 14, 2010 was the day I was due with Carter, so I called him my "love baby" during my pregnancy. My doctor joked with me that no boy would want to be born on Valentine's Day, and Carter proved that by being born on January 29th. I had to read my blog from last year to remember what we did (I did have a 2 week old, remember), and found that Jeff and I went out to dinner. And I was worried about my baby getting RSV. I'm sure it wasn't the most romantic V-Day ever.

Well, this year wasn't either. Starting a little bit on Saturday, but more so on Sunday, Carter started sounding croupy. This is probably the third time this winter he has had croup and for the most part, he usually sounds worse than he is. I wasn't too concerned.

But by Monday, he was really sounding bad (worse than he had either of the two times before), and I made an appointment with the doctor. Mostly, I wanted to check his O2 sats to be sure he was getting enough oxygen, and hope that we would be sent home reassured that he was okay. I bailed on Allie's class Valentine's party (thank goodness that there are so many parents who like to help out in kindergarten classes), and passed the craft I had prepared for all the kids to another mom and tried to calm my anxiety long enough to get to the doctor.

At the doctor's office, his O2 sats were fine. He was consiste

ntly in the 90's, even though he sounded so terrible. He was starting to have some retractions on the side of his ribs when he breathed, but he was happy and didn't seem to be in distress. The doctor decided to give him a breathing treatment of Racemic (vaporized epinephrine) to reduce the swelling of the airway. He said most of the time, one treatment is enough to get the symptoms to go away almost immediately, but some kids would get worse a couple hours later.

Carter didn't get better hardly at all. He still sounded bad after the treatment, and it was then decided that he needed to be hospitalized. The main problem with croup is that when children labor to breathe for a long time, they eventually wear out and can stop breathing all together. You think they are sounding better, because they aren't breathing as loudly, but in reality, they are breathing very shallowly, and then not at all. Of course we didn't want that to happen. So, I called my aunt and dropped the other kids off at her house before heading off to the hospital.

All of these pics are from my phone, so they aren't the best quality, but they are all that I have. Carter got into a gown and they hooked him up to the O2 monitor, as well as the monitors for heart rate and respirations. They all looked fine, but he still sounded pretty bad.

I managed to get him to sit still long enough to get this picture of him in his gown, with his froggy and binky. Really, he was not too upset, and his biggest complaint probably would have been boredom.

This is a video clip from my phone as well. If I had kept my big yapper shut, you would be able to hear his breathing a little better, but you can get the idea that he wasn't doing great. He wasn't sad or lethargic or anything, just working hard to breathe. I need to mention that his lungs were clear. This wasn't RSV or some other mucusy virus. This was just croup-an inflammed airway that makes it hard to breathe.

Monday night was a long night for me. Carter got another treatment of vaporized epinephrine and a dose of oral steroids and was bouncing off the walls for a few hours. He settled down around 11:00 and fell asleep, but I didn't sleep. Every time he would knock one of his leads off, I would have to get up, silence the alarm, and try to fix it. This happened a lot. I couldn't really lay on the bed with him because of all the wires in our way, even though I did try. He woke up a few times, but quickly went back to sleep. I think I saw the clock at least once an hour throughout the night. He was getting his treatments every 4 hours and I had to give them to him, because he hated having them done.

By morning, I was pretty tired. Carter sounded a little bit better, but still not great. It became clear that he wasn't going to be going home any time soon, so I made arrangements for the kids and settled in for a day in that tiny room. Because he had done just fine during the night, the nurse let me take off all the monitors, which was amazing. Carter could walk around exploring the room, I gave him a bath, we brought in some toys and set them on a blanket for something to do--it was great. Except for the fact that he really didn't sound that much better.

At one point, he was getting a treatment and he got mad. Ticked off. He cried long and hard and held his breath until he started turning blue. He had never done that before, and it sort of worried the Respiratory Therapist who was in the room. I thought he was just tired of having people in gowns and masks bugging him all the time, but they took it seriously. He had a chest x-ray done to see if there was anything else going on and they put him in a cool mist tent for the rest of the evening and night.

I wish we had a picture of the tent. It was a bit sheet of plastic that stretched down to a point on the bed and was filled with cool mist. Supposedly it is the old treatment for croup and the respiratory therapist thought it might help. He also had an x-ray done on his neck to see if there was any other blockages. The doctor had told me that Carter was more likely to get croup because of his experience on the ventilator last year. The tissue in his airway could already be damaged, and that could be why he was having some problems. The x-rays all looked fine. But in the cool mist tent he went.

Jeff came over after work and traded with me. After 24 hours in the same room, I was going a bit crazy. Nothing like last year, but I definitely needed a break. Especially after we learned that he was going to have to spend at least one more night there.

I came home, picked up the kids, and tried to have a normal evening (which mostly meant taking care of things that had been neglected). My neighbor brought us dinner (the kids had had Mac n Cheese the night before) and I spent some time loading dirty dishes and folding the laundry I had started on Monday. Jeff called and told me he was going to sleep at the hospital and that I should get some rest. I was exhausted. I went to bed at 9:30 and fell asleep almost instantly.

The next morning, I went back to the hospital and traded with Jeff so he could come home and get ready for work. Carter had done great during the night, and had slept really well in his tent. Boy likes camping already. The doctor came in and saw him and said he thought he would be able to go home soon. What a relief!

We got ready to go, and I took a couple more pictures.

All ready to go! Just waiting for our paperwork. Good thing, too, because I look more than a little tired.

Here's Carter sitting in his bed. It holds up to 350 lbs, so once I figured out how to hoist myself up there, he and I spent a lot of time there together. Much more comfy than the pull out couch.

His nurse on Wednesday didn't think he sounded good enough to go home, but they let us check out. Again, though, my anxiety was triggered, because truth be told, he didn't sound that great. Not as bad as the first day we were in there, but not great. I had a little panic about him taking a turn, and having to take him back, but he still seemed to be in good spirits. And he had had a blessing that said he would be healed. And he was definitely better than he had been Monday, so Jeff talked me down and I relaxed a little (as if it were just that easy...I did relax a little, but it took all day).

I had a doctor's appointment myself that afternoon, and after finding out that I had lost 2 lbs in the last two weeks and barely being able to produce any urine sample at all (it's hard to get that cup in the right place!), I was afraid the nurse would think I wasn't taking care of myself. But I managed to convince them that I was just a little stressed and I would be fine. And I told myself that Carter would be fine.

And he has been. He definitely hasn't gotten better as quickly as I had hoped he would (he still didn't sound all that great yesterday, even after we got his oral steroid prescription filled), but he was doing okay. He wanted to be held all the time, was being a picky eater (what's that about??), and still was breathing kind of hard. But today he is doing MUCH better. About 75% better I would say. Phew! Poor kid has really been through it!

And while it wasn't nearly as emotionally draining as it was last year (or nearly as long or serious), having a kid in the hospital is never fun. It's draining. But there are two things I will really miss from our time there:

1. The first night we were there, Jeff and I did FaceTime with the kids on our iPhones. It really was so fun for the kids to see Carter and for Carter to see all of them. I think I should write to Apple and have them put a hospital scene in their next commercial. And Carter can star in it.

2. On Tuesday, when I spent all day in there with him, we took 3 naps together in that big bed. I never get to do that at home. And it was so fun to snuggle with him and sleep together. Probably one of my top 5 Carter memories of all time.

Last year when Carter was in the hospital, I said a prayer and told Heavenly Father that if he would help him get better, that I would try to be the very best mom I could possibly be for Carter. And I have. But this latest experience was a good reminder of just how special this handsome love is to me. And how much I want him to have a good, happy life. Hopefully at home, rather than in the hospital.

Carter's One Year Pics

We got Carter's pictures back on Monday. Sadly, this was the first time he has ever had his pictures taken professionally. I didn't want to be the mom who neglected her fourth child, but apparently I am. So, let's discuss...


Fortunately, the bruise on his head is only slightly noticeable in all of the pics. He toppled down next to my bath tub the morning of pictures and I was worried that the bruise would look really bad. It didn't. I love this one because of his eyes. It's hard to really see what color his eyes are, but now it has been determined (and documented) that they are light bluish gray.


This one is just a sweet baby look, with the cheeks and little eyelashes.


We tried to do some diaper shots of him by this wash tub, but there was just too much going on. He wanted to look at the duck, grab the sponge, and wouldn't just stand next to it looking cute. The best we could get was the Sumo Squat, as he held up the towel to show a little leg.

Standing alone. A trick he had mastered for some time.

Probably my favorite shot. Jeff and I are holding his hands and this is the best smile we got.

We got the dazed look here.

I was definitely NOT planning on being in any of the pics, but the photographer talked me into it. This is, after all, my last baby and Carter looks so sweet. I just wish it was a better shot of me. Bleh. Maybe we will do some more belly shots with all the kids before the baby comes.

When Carter was in the wash tub, he was mostly giving us the dazed look and wouldn't really smile. Then Jeff walked in the room and he gave us this gem. A great shot of his little chompers and a "happy to see you smile" for Jeff. Love it.

This one is the no neck shot. Carter never really has had much of a neck, but especially in this picture. He also reminds me of Kermit the Frog here for some reason. I still love it.

Overall, I'm really happy with the way they turned out. You just can't beat the price at JC Penney. The coupons that come all the time are for a free sitting fee, free 8X10 and $3.99 a sheet for regular sheets. Of course they try to tempt you with the cute embellishments, but I didn't cave. So, I got 10 sheets for $35 total. I love being cheap.

Happy Birthday Chubby Bubby

On Saturday, Carter turned one. What a year it's been. And as anxious as I am for him to start acting like a big boy (so I can take care of another baby), it's a little sad, too. He's taking me a little bit too seriously and really growing up.

We celebrated on Saturday at Chuck E Cheese with my nephew, Tyson, who shares his birthday. Apparently there were a lot of birthdays that day. Or a lot of bored kids who talked their parents into an outing at Chuck E Cheese, because it was more crowded than I have ever seen it, and I have seen it a few times. Still, it was fun and a good birthday activity for the older kids who actually understand what birthdays are supposed to be like.

Monday night, we celebrated with my aunt's family. Carter also shares a birthday with my Uncle Tyler, while my cousin, Monique, and brother, Eric celebrate on Feb. 2. Lots of birthdays in a short time. Unfortunately, Tyler was out of town, but the rest of the family came to celebrate with us and so I made a little cake for Eric/Monique, too. Allie got the tiny cupcake pan for Christmas and has been begging to make tiny cupcakes for quite some time, so this was the perfect occasion.

The cupcakes are about the diameter of a quarter, so great for little hands.

Carter was a little unsure of the whole event. It was past his bedtime and there were a lot of people, so that would explain his shyness. He wasn't shy, however, about eating. Surprised?


We let him demolish two pieces of cake, which he thought was pretty great.

Here are some things I want to remember about Carter at this age:



1. The best thing about him not loving formula and bottles is that it was NOT hard to wean him. When I ran out of formula (a couple days before his birthday), I just started him on whole milk. At first I would put the milk in bottles, because I wasn't sure he had figured out sippy cups yet, but we don't even do that anymore. He quickly figured out how to drink from a cup by tipping his head (why he never figured it out with bottles is beyond me) and seems to like whole milk just as much as formula, if not more. I'm not surprised. Who doesn't like whole milk? We were driving in the car one day and Carter had a cup of milk and Kyla looked over with envy and said, "I love creamy milk."

2. As you saw in the last post, he has started walking. He literally went from taking 2-3 halting steps to walking across the room in one day. It was always a matter of confidence with him. Once he realized he could do it, he was off.

He still crawls more than walks, but he's walking more and more. It's still so thrilling to catch a glimpse of him letting go and just toddling around. (He has also been making this face a lot. I'm not sure what it means, but it's cute!)

He can also clap while walking and bend down to pick something up and stand back up. Impressive for someone who has only been walking for a week or so.

3. He goes to bed at 7:00 and wakes up between 7:00 and 8:00. He finally, consistently sleeps through the night. We have really struggled with this, as he is such a light sleeper and was waking up a couple times a week at various times of the night. I almost always made him cry it out (unless it went on and on and on, then I would go retrieve his frog and binky, which he had thrown on the floor, and give them back to him. This would make him fuming mad, but he'd usually calm down and go to sleep fairly quickly) and I'm crossing my fingers that it's worked.

He is trying to transition from two naps to one right now. It's frustrating trying to figure out what works best. Some days he still wants to take a long nap in the morning, some times he wants to take none. The last two days I have kept him up until after lunch and put him down for one nap. One day he slept almost 3 hours and one day he slept less than 2. Confusing. Then today he was ready for a nap at 9:30 so I put him down. I was going to wake up at 10:30, but he woke up on his own, then took a two hour nap after lunch. Weird. But we will try to get some routine down before this baby comes. I'd like to know what to expect!

4. He loves balls. This is a new found love, but he loves dropping them, watching them roll, and chasing them around the room.


He always picks the two balls out of the tub toys to play with, too. This pic is a little blurry, but it's an action shot! And he's so happy to have all kinds of balls to play with.

5. He learned the sign for "eat" this week and uses it constantly. He always thinks he wants to eat. I try to reinforce it as much as I can (we're still working on Please, more, drink, milk and thank you), but there comes a point when it just has to stop. He can't be eating ALL THE TIME! He's really not too picky, but he'll let you know if he's tired of something by shaking his head no or throwing it on the floor. He REALLY needs to learn the sign for drink, because several times I have learned after the fact that the reason he is crying is because he's thirsty.

6. Speaking of crying, he still cries a lot. He will be playing just fine and then all of a sudden, stop and cry. It's getting a little better now that he can pretty much get where ever he wants to go, but he still spends a fair amount of time sitting at my feet, crying and waiting for me to hold him. I know, without doubt, I am the person he loves most. It's very flattering.

Even without makeup and carrying all this extra weight around, he still loves me unconditionally. And that is therapeutic for anyone. But seriously, he is a tank and I get so tired holding him. So sometimes he just has to cry. Or put up with the other kids hauling him around, trying to make him happy.

7. He has finally learned to come down stairs. For the longest time, he would crawl all the way upstairs and play for a while, then start crying when he wanted me to come get him. He was just scared of the stairs. And I can't blame him. He has had his share of falls. His other favorite place to be is next to the shower in my bathroom. He has to crawl up the step, past the tub and up another step to get to his favorite perch, but always seemed to get stuck there (besides the several times he actually fell INTO the tub). Now he can back down by himself. That is a relief.

8. I read in my parenting book that by this age he should be mimicking what others do, and starting to use things the way they should be used. I had never seen him do this before, but just this week he has done it twice. First, he found a Magna Doodle and tried to color on it. That was fun. Then yesterday, he found a brush on the floor and brushed his hair with it. Cute.

9. He doesn't say any recognizable words. He can sort of repeat "Allie," which sounds like "Ahh-dee," but he makes that sound most of the time (it also sounds like Owie), so I don't think he's really saying it for/about her. He can say Dada and DayDay, but mostly refuses to say mama unless he's crying. So, no, he's not a very verbal kid.

10. He has 6 teeth--three on top and three on bottom. He got his top two first, then a central and lateral on bottom before the other central popped through. Now he has a lateral on top. We're waiting for the other two to complete the set. He drools a lot, but doesn't seem to be especially bothered by teething.

11. He still is constantly harassed by his sisters, especially Kyla. Most mornings, Damon or Kyla gets him out of bed and brings him to me (usually poopie). Kyla likes to carry him around still, which he does not like. He is getting a little more playful with his siblings, though, which is fun to watch. Usually he has no idea why anyone is laughing, but always likes to be in on the joke. His favorite people are, in order: Me, Jeff, my brother Eric, his siblings. And not really anyone else right now. He tolerates others (if they have food), but doesn't seem happy to see anyone else. It makes Eric's day that Carter loves him. I think it's cute, too.

12. He's still in 12-18 month clothes, although they are getting a little small. 18-24 is a tad big, so we are just waiting for spring before we bust out any new clothes. I think he'll be in 18-24 all year. We'll see.

I still love him more than I ever thought possible. He has had a rough first year of life, but he's been an amazing addition to our family. It's still SO FUN for me to have a little boy again. I can't wait to see what kind of person he turns into. Happy birthday Carter! You're one loved little boy!

Name Game

This morning as I was showering, I was thinking about what we're going to name this baby that will shortly join our family. And as the water was so warm and the water pressure so perfect, I didn't want to get out of the shower. So I started thinking about how we came up with names for our other children. And then I decided it might be something the kids would like to read about one day and I decided to blog about naming children. And here we are.

Some interesting facts:
1. We have never used the same list when trying to choose a name for a baby. None of the "runner up names" for one child have been used for another one. We always started completely over and eventually came up with different possibilities for each kid.

2. Kyla is the only one who was named before she was born. Not intentionally, but that was the name we both liked best and finally we decided to stop trying to add any more names to the list.

3. All of the kids' middle names are family names and we always knew we'd give our girls middle names too.

DAMON
I was induced with Damon 3 weeks early and we had only briefly talked about names to that point. Our short list included Damon, Tanner, Scott and Cameron. I had always loved the name Damon after seeing the movie "Only You," where the Ouija board told Marissa Tomei that her soul mate's name was Damon Bradley. The other names came from books. I wasn't crazy about the name Scott, but I loved the idea of calling him Scottie when he was little. We knew for sure his middle name was going to be Jeffrey, so it had to sound good with that. Damon was always my favorite name (not too trendy and not hard to spell), but I was hesitant to stick it to him until I saw him and tried it out. And once he was born I couldn't commit to any of the other names. And so Damon Jeffrey he became.

Interestingly enough, he gets called Damien a fair amount, especially in Florida. Maybe it's a southern thing? I have met a couple other little boys named Damon, but only a handful, and I have never second guessed giving him the name.



CHANCE
Of course, this tiny love never had a name picked out before we knew that we weren't going to be able to keep him here on earth. After my water broke, it was five days before I delivered him, and during those five days I tried to really get to know him and what kind of little spirit lived inside me. I checked out a name book from the library and started going through it, knowing that we wanted to give him a name that had some meaning. We decided against any middle name, more because we thought no one in the family would be thrilled that we used their name as a middle name for our child we knew wasn't going to survive.

When I read the name Chance in the name book, I knew we had found it. Everything about it just seemed to fit. He had his "chance" on earth, and we will one day have the "chance" to be together again. Jeff agreed and that is what we named him.


ALLIE
My favorite girl name had always been Lydia, but Jeff nixed that right away. He said that we were absolutely NOT going to name our daughter after a fictional character (Lydia McBride from Work and the Glory, and yes, the reason I loved that name so much. That also took away the possibility of Nathan for the same reason). My second choice was Rachel. I loved it and secretly thought of her as baby Rachel for many months. Jeff didn't love it but didn't hate it, so it stayed on the list. The other name we tossed around was Bexley. At the time, we lived just outside Bexley, OH, and I thought it was such a cute name, especially when I could call her Bex.

We knew her middle name was going to be Karen, after my mom (also my middle name). Rachel on Friends is Rachel Karen Green, and that may or may not have been an influencing factor.

Just before she was born, we each made a list of names we liked. Besides Allie (never Allison), we both like Jessica. Some of my other favorites were Sarah and Leah, while Jeff liked Hayley. Apparently, I was on a bit of a bible kick. But Allie was the top of both our lists.

Once she was born (the only time I spontaneously went into labor and the only time I had a natural birth), Jeff told me we could name her Rachel if I wanted. Apparently he felt sympathetic for me. And rightly so. But as I held her, I knew I had to be really sure she was Rachel, because I knew Jeff didn't love it, and it just didn't seem like that was who she was. And so we decided to go with Allie. I liked Alli (like in Karate Kid, "Alli with an I"), but Jeff thought since it wasn't short for anything, it should seem like less of a nickname. He also didn't care for Ally because it could be pronounced another way, as in "the US is an ally to England," which left us with the spelling we chose. And that's how Allie Karen came to be.

I didn't realize Allie was a fairly popular name until we brought her home and I started hearing more and more people tell me they knew an Allie. There are definitely more "Allie's" than "Bexley's," but that's who she is. So she'll have to live with it.



KYLA
We were living in Jacksonville at the time I was pregnant with Kyla, and we had already decided if we had a boy his name would be Jackson. When I found out we were having another girl, somehow the other names I had loved (Rachel, Leah, Sarah and Jessica) never made the list again. I'm not exactly sure why. I still loved the names, but I kind of felt like if a name wasn't right for one child, it wouldn't be right for any of them. Probably a dumb way to look at it, but it's true. (Side note: I'm so glad we didn't have a boy named Jackson. I still love the name, but apparently so does everyone else in Utah.

I used a name book this time, and spent hours going through all the lists of names. The names I loved this time around were Riley, Bailey, Kya, Kylie and Kyla. Jeff really didn't have anything to add, but concluded that Kyla was his favorite. Neither of us knew anyone named Kyla, but it was easy to spell and wasn't too crazy. We decided on it about a week or two before she was born. Unlike the first two, we didn't know what her middle name was going to be. I liked Kyla May, because it sounded southern, and she was born in May after all. But Jeff thought that was dumb.

So, while we were in the hospital (comfortable, with an epidural this time after getting induced), we started talking about middle names. We talked about Jane, which was Jeff's grandma's middle name, and we had decided it sounded good and we liked it. Then Jeff's mom called and offered a suggestion. How about Kyla Collette? (Collette is her middle name) I wasn't opposed to it, but knew that another granddaughter already had that as her middle name and I didn't want to take anything away from her. Nancy (my MIL) assured me it was fine, and we decided we couldn't argue with an outright suggestion from grandma. Kyla Collette it was. I like the fact that both of my girls are named after their grandmas.

After we brought Kyla home, there was an incident in the news about a woman who was kicked off an airplane because she wasn't dressed appropriately. Turns out her name was Kyla. Haha. Luckily, her five minutes of fame were over quickly and no one remembers her name anymore. I have only met a couple of Kyla's since. And every where she goes, people tell her what a pretty name she has.

CARTER

Again, when I found out we were having a boy, I consulted a name book and began making my list. My very favorite name was Jace and that's what I really wanted to name him. I loved the idea of naming him Jace Edward Trapnell (initials JET), the Edward after Jeff's dad, Frederick Edward. But Jeff told me quickly that he did not like Jace at all, and that it sounded too girlie. Boo for me. I couldn't talk him into it. Some of the other names I had on my list were Carter, Camden, and Jaron.

When we lived in Ohio there was a family in our ward who had a little boy named Carter and he was a cute chubba bubba and I first started liking the name then. I loved Camden, too, because I just love the nickname Cam. Jeff wasn't crazy about that either because it reminded him of Cami, but he wasn't completely opposed. I had a dream a couple weeks before Carter was born and in the dream we named him Camden (oh it is also the name of the baseball stadium where the Baltimore Orioles play--Camden Yards--and I told Jeff there would be few people who would associate the two. But in the dream we were at Camden Yards taking a picture because our baby was named Camden), and I was leaning toward that for several days. And then my sister told me she knew a girl named Camden. And I just couldn't do it.

So, in the hospital again (again induced and comfortable with an epidural), we agreed on Carter Edward. I assured Jeff the middle name had nothing to do with Twilight and he bought it. Haha, no, I am not a Twi-hard and would never have suggested Edward if it wasn't such a strong family name. Plus, with the other kids being named after dad and their grandmas, it only made sense to name Carter after his grandpa. And Carter Dale Trapnell wasn't quite right.

This past year, I have heard of several kids named Carter. But nowhere near as many as, say, Mason. I think it's just right.

THIS BABY

Things are a little different this time around, not knowing if it's a boy or girl. We have to come up with TWO lists of names. And I don't have a strong feeling either way, so I haven't grown attached to any names, really. I'm always a little hesitant to put my names out there because, inevitably, someone isn't going to like them. But since I'm not committed to any of them, here is my short list of names:

Boy
Austin

Logan

McKay

Easton

It has also been suggested (not so mildly by my MIL) that if we have a boy, we give him the middle name John, which is Jeff's grandpa's name, and all four of Jeff's brothers have a son with the middle name John. I'm not opposed. But I did tell Jeff that I would spell it Jon, after my brother, Jonathan. Haha. We'll see what, if anything, comes from that.

Girl

McKinley

Morgan

Layton

Avery

I have no idea about middle names for girls. That will be a hospital decision if it's a girl.

Jeff has yet to tell me which, of any, of these names he would actually go along with. That is a conversation we will have in the next few weeks, and probably in the hospital.

Phew, that was probably really boring. But it's good to have documented. And if you've made it this far, here is a little treat for you. Carter's birthday present to himself was deciding he was ready to walk. I LOVE babies who are learning to walk. It is probably my very favorite part of watching a baby grow up. So you can imagine how this warms my heart.