A Letter To My 1-Year-Old

Dear Cameron Kate,

Just the other night you woke up unexpectedly around 11:00pm, and it took some extra rocking with your daddy to get you to go back to sleep.  When he got back in bed, he immediately turned to me and said, “Man, I love her so much.  I love her so much it hurts.  Can you believe she’s ours?”

…

Let’s rewind.

A year ago today, you decided it was time to enter this world, forever changing our lives, our hearts.  I remember it like it was yesterday, yet at the same time it seems so far away.  How has an entire year gone by?  Didn’t I JUST hear your dad say, “It’s a girl!”  Weren’t we just in the hospital, surrounded by family and friends and nurses and doctors, talking about how much you looked like your daddy?

You still do, you know… look like your daddy.

In the blink of an eye you were smiling, cooing, laughing, rolling over, sitting up, clapping, scooting, crawling, pulling up, cruising, walking, running.

In the blink of an eye you’ve transformed from a newborn, to an infant, to a baby, and now – a toddler.

In the blink of an eye you’ve become a little person with a huge personality.

It’s so surreal for me to think back on this day one year ago, as I sat in the hospital bed, patiently waiting as you took your time deciding when you were REALLY ready to make your debut.  So much has happened throughout this year, and I’m so proud of us – our little family of three.  I’m so proud of you.  I’m so proud to be YOUR mama.

These days, you’re quite the ham.  When we’re out and about, you like to wave and smile at anyone who walks by.  You can’t stand to be too contained for too long, so time spent in a stroller/carseat/grocery cart/my arms must be limited.  You want to get down and GO.  And by go I mean walk and/or run.

Oh, and climb.  That’s right.  Just when we thought we’d completed our baby-proofing to-dos, you figured out how to climb on top of the ottoman and couches.  So much for the den being the safe room.

You’re also quite verbal these days, saying a handful of words – that, dog, mama, dada, light, water, shoes, and please are just a few.  You, in my humble opinion, are also brilliant.  You know that a cow says moo, you can do four different baby sign language signs (more, milk, all done, and please), and you know the location of your eyes, ears, hair, tummy, and toes.

You also throw your hands up in the hair when we ask, “How big is Cameron?!” and clap to, “If you’re happy and you know it…”!

Like I said, brilliant.

You still love Ellie, but also have a newfound attachment to Melvin the monkey.

You also have a newfound attachment to your daddy.  He kinda loves it.

You’re still a pretty good eater, and we’re kinda sorta starting the weaning process.  However, you’re still not buying into the taste of cow’s milk… but we’ll get there eventually.  I honestly have mixed emotions about letting go of our breastfeeding journey, but I do think we’re both almost ready to close that chapter.

Speaking of mixed emotions, you turning one feels awfully bittersweet.  I’ve been dealing with an array of emotions for the past few days – sadness, excitement, anticipation, worry, nostalgia, and happiness.  This has, without a doubt, been the best, most challenging, most rewarding, most incredible year of my entire life.  All because of you, my bug.

You made me a mama.

You gave me the best job I’ll ever have.

YOU chose ME.

And I’m not sure if I’ll ever feel worthy of your love… if I’ll ever feel like I’m enough for you.  Every single day I’m in awe of you, and to be quite honest, you make me want to do better – to be better.  You make me want to carve out our little corner of the universe and fill it with memories and happiness and sunshine.

But we both know life is not full of just those things – happiness and sunshine.  Or else how would we appreciate the ups from the downs?

Just the other day your dad and I took you to the Dixie Classic Fair for the very first time.  We pulled up to the animal exhibits, took you out of your stroller, and stood in front of a horse.

I will never forget the look on your face.

You were so in awe of this creature standing in front of you… And I mean, it was simple, you know?  It was just a horse.  But it was the first time you had ever seen a horse, or any animal that large.  You just stared with your big brown eyes, taking in the way he twitched his tail, stomped his hooves, made little sounds.

And the rest of the evening was like that – you soaking in every sight, every sound.  And your dad and I smiled for the entire two-and-a-half hours we were there, watching you revel in the newness of it all.

And I realized how much I have to look forward to.  How I get to see you as you see things for the very first time… watch your eyes grow in wonder, look at me questioningly, light up with excitement.  How I get to watch you experience life and all it has to offer – the sunshine, the rainbows, the puddles, the skinned knees, the bikes with no training wheels, the jumps off the diving board, the cupcakes, the heartbreaks, the tantrums, the grass-stained knees, the wins, the losses, the first ponytails, the tooth fairy, the monsters under your bed, the dance classes, the soccer games, the hopscotch, the first day of kindergarten, the first pet, the vacations, the boyfriends, the teenage years, the first school dance, the teaching you how to drive, the letting you borrow my car, the prom, the graduations, the wedding day…

 So yes, it’s hard to wrap my brain around the fact that your baby days are almost a thing of the past… but how can I be sad when there is SO much to look forward to as your mama?  In just one short, quick year, you’ve brought more joy into my life and into my heart than I even knew was possible.  And I get to be YOUR mama for the rest of our lives!

HOW in the world did I get so lucky?

For some reason, God decided that we were made for each other – mama and daughter – me and my bug.  And while I’ll never know what I did to deserve having you as a daughter, I will work the rest of my life to be the kind of mama you deserve.

I love you, my sweet, silly, wild, happy, beautiful Cameron Kate.  Happy 1^st Birthday and remember… the fun has just begun. 

Love,

Mama

Nostalgic

As any mom knows, an impending first birthday can do all kinds of crazy things to your emotional state.  As the big day approaches, I've been sad that my baby is growing up too fast, excited about having a one-year-old, regretful that I maybe let some of the days pass by too quickly, proud of me and T for surviving our first year as parents, and so incredibly in love with the little girl blossoming right before my very eyes.

Mostly, I've been reflective.  Reflective on our first year as a family of three, and also remembering what was going on in my world about this time last year.  I've taken some time to read some old blog posts and look at old pictures, and as the days, months, and years pass (and life continues to get even more wonderfully chaotic), I know these memories may become hazy.  So I'd like to take a moment to remember, reminisce, and document, because I never, ever want to forget.

This time last year, well, I was huge.  And not, "Oh, you're all belly!" huge.  I was huge like had-to-take-off-wedding-rings-and-buy-new-underwear-from-Target-and-ugly-comfy-slip-on-rubber-Crocs-huge.  And let's not even talk about the swelling.

I remember being so incredibly physically exhausted at the end of the days, forcing myself to walk on the treadmill (See: huge), but really wanting to lie around and wallow in my hugeness.  I would usually walk on the treadmill, eat a can of green beans (straight out of the can... wonder if that's why CK loves green beans so much?!) and then change into a pair of said large Target underwear and my hub's athletic shorts and tshirts and park myself on the chaise lounge as far away from my hub as possible (I didn't even want to be TOUCHED) and put my swollen-Flintstone feet on top of a pillow.

I remember nesting like CRAZY.  I had an around-the-house to-do list that absolutely HAD to be done (imagine that!).  And I was not so nice if T decided to relax rather than work on the to-do list.

I remember our last few childbirth classes, it all feeling so surreal.  They were Thursday nights, and we were surrounded by other soon-to-be first-timers, soaking in every word the instructor said, feeling simultaneously thrilled and terrified.

I remember our last few weekly doctor appointments.  I remember getting an ultrasound at 37 weeks because they were worried about the size of the baby.  I remember joking with the nurse that I was the size of a moose, and thus must be growing a baby moose.  We then referred to baby Peele as either moose or toddler (I'm sure Cameron will appreciate that one day).

I remember how after every one of those last few appointments, T and I would go eat breakfast at Chick-Fil-A and rehash everything the doctor said.  We'd go through the what-ifs.  We'd discuss possible induction/C-section.

I remember my 39-week appointment very vividly.  It was a Wednesday.  I was 1.5cm dilated and the doctor was willing to discuss induction since the baby was looking to be quite big.  Based on my progress, I wasn't necessarily the best candidate for induction - yet - but because my doctor is awesome and grew to know me and T, he was willing to schedule it for the following Tuesday (since he was going to be on-call that day at the hospital).  He said that T and I could take some time to talk, and think, and we'd cross our fingers that things would progress on their own.

As usual, we headed to Chick-Fil-A to put all the cards on the table and talk.  T, of course, was leaning toward waiting it out so my body could progress on its own - but he recognized that that was easier said from where he was sitting (you know, in his non-rubber shoes and regular-sized underwear).  I remember being stressed, and overwhelmed, and not sure what the "right" decision was.  But we left it in God's hands as we left Chick-Fil-A, deciding to give it a few days and wait and see what would happen.

That weekend I was not willing to be a sitting duck.  I remember going to the Wake Forest football game on Saturday, and after sitting on the sunny side for the first half of the game and feeling sweat pool within every new crevice of my very pregnant body, thinking I was going to pass out.  We ventured to the other side and found some vacant seats surrounded by many, well, elderly-ish people.  i remember the man beside us continuing to tell me I was making him very nervous.  "When's your due date?" he asked.  "Monday!" we replied, which just about sent him over the edge.  "Well, what are you doing here?  This might put you into labor!"  Well, that's what we were hoping!  Unfortunately, I left the game still pregnant (and very sweaty and swollen).

I remember feeling "weird" the next morning.  I remember hoping something was going on, asking T if we could go for a walk.  I remember having contractions as we walked through the neighborhood.  I  remember eating an apple when we got home, my contractions stopping.  I remember going to the movies, coming home, going on another walk...

I remember parking myself back on our chaise lounge, eating pizza, a Krispy Kreme doughnut, and some cotton candy, and falling asleep.  I remember waking up at 11:00pm with what I thought was a stomach ache (hello healthy dinner), but realizing they were contractions.  I remember climbing into bed, the contractions becoming timeable, thinking they weren't too terribly painful...

I remember thinking, "Hey, maybe I CAN do this without an epidural!"

HA!

I remember calling the nurse around 1:00am, her telling me to walk around and wait until my contractions were 3-5 minutes apart.  I remember watching Project Runway, pacing across the den, squatting, writing down each contraction time.  I remember how, every now and then, one contraction would be a little farther apart, and I'd start to worry that my labor was stopping.

By the way, a quick interruption, but as I type this, I have butterflies in my stomach.  Oh what I'd give to go back and do it all again, squeezing every moment for all it's worth and soaking in every single second.

I remember waking T up around 2:30am or so, telling him it was time.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure" I said as I braced the doorframe and breathed through another contraction.

I remember getting our bags, bidding Bailey adieu, and T telling me he had to go by work to get his laptop.

In retrospect, that's kinda ridiculous, no?

Anywho, I remember him calling my parents on the way (by this time the contractions were too painful for me to be calling anyone), telling them to hang tight until we got the go ahead from the hospital that this was really it, my mom telling him "no way," that she was practically already buckling her seat belt and on the way.

I remember getting to the hospital at 3:00am, thinking it was all so surreal, because I literally always wanted to be THAT girl that went into labor in the middle of the night.

I remember sitting in triage, being told I had to progress within an hour to be admitted.  I remember the contractions becoming more and more painful.

I remember finally getting into a room, being admitted, and realizing - this was it.

I remember the epidural - thank GOD for the epidural.

I remember T making more phone calls.

I remember my mom walking into the room and immediately feeling a sense of peace.

I remember how the baby's heart rate kept dropping, how they made me wear an oxygen mask and I was terrified, how the epidural kept wearing off on the right side so they'd have me lie on that side but then the heart rate would drop again so I'd have to lie on the other side which meant feeling every contraction on one side of my body.

I remember how the nurses were so incredible and SO excited to deliver what they called a "surprise" baby because we didn't know the sex.

I remember how they told me to get some rest, I'd need it, but I couldn't because I was too uncomfortable with the oxygen mask and too worried about the baby's heart rate.

I remember being told there was meconium in my fluid.

I remember calling my doctor to let him know I wouldn't need to proceed with our scheduled induction because I was in labor - woop!

I remember the pink and blue baby bracelets in the baby warmer, waiting for our little one.

I remember getting stuck at 5cm for what felt like FOREVER.

I remember when I was finally at 10, but started running a fever and had to take Tylenol and wait to push.

I remember when it was FINALLY time to push.

I remember the NICU team entering the room because there'd been meconium in my fluid and I'd been running a fever and the baby's heart rate had been dropping.

I remember when there was a knock on the door and my incredible doctor, who wasn't on-call or supposed to be working, walked in so he could deliver my baby.

I remember how incredible T was, cheering me on and so excited and holding my leg and telling me, "I see the head" and "The baby has hair" and "You can do it!" and...

"It's a GIRL!"

...

I remember T cutting the cord, the doctor stitching me up (for what felt like forever), and not being able to hold her for many, many, many minutes.

But it was okay because she was in her daddy's arms.

And I remember the look on his face and the tears streaming down his cheeks.

The way his heart broke into a million tiny pieces that immediately put themselves back together and grew into a heart that was able to love far beyond what it was capable of before 8:19 that evening.

I remember him handing her to me, falling endlessly into a love that I felt so incredibly deep, a love I'd never experienced before.  I remember thinking she was heavy!

I remember the diamond ring he'd wrapped up in her blanket.

I remember when everyone got to come in and meet our little sunshine.

I remember telling my mom our little sunshine was named after her.

I remember being wheeled out of labor and delivery, holding my Cameron Kate and feeling so proud of our little family.

I remember realizing I was the hungriest and thirstiest I have ever been in my entire life.  All I wanted was a turkey sandwich and a diet coke!

I remember the chaos that ensues in your hospital room after you've had a baby.  Visitors, lots of visitors, nurses checking on you, nurses checking on the baby, doctors checking on you, doctors checking on the baby, hearing tests for the baby, people mashing the heck out of your stomach to check for clots, lots of pain medicine, hospital gowns and bare butts, tucks pads, numbing cream, mesh panties, and the biggest maxi pads I've ever seen in my entire life.

I remember trying to get the hang of breastfeeding and talking to many lactation consultants.

I remember T being so ready to come home and me being so nervous to leave the comfort of our hospital-nurses-and-doctors-everywhere bubble.

I remember finally coming home.

I remember the ride home, on an unseasonably warm October afternoon, me sitting in the back with our little girl, T driving ever-so-slowly.

I remember pulling into the driveway, introducing Cameron Kate to her "big sister" Bailey, realizing we'd forgotten to order more oil for our heat, and also realizing we had absolutely nothing in the house for dinner (thank goodness our neighbor, Doug, had ESP or something and brought over chicken pot pie!).

I remember sitting on the back porch, Cameron asleep in her bouncer, typing out her birth story, tears streaming down my cheeks, still in disbelief that SHE was MINE.

I remember those first few sleepless weeks, wondering how in the world I was ever going to be enough for this little girl who I literally loved more than life itself.

I remember it all, so vividly.  So much so that I can feel the anticipation, the nerves, the worry, the excitement.

As we continue to go through this life, this one life we've been given, these memories are bound to become a little less clear.  But I've written it all down here, again, as we approach the one-year mark, because I want to surround myself with these emotions.  I want them to swallow me up and take me back to this time last year, let me experience it all again, if only in my mind and in my heart.  I want to wrap myself up in the memories like an old blanket, get lost in each precious, peaceful, beautiful moment.

And I don't ever, ever want to let myself forget the days leading up to or the very moment when my heart met unconditional love, when I became a mom... when two became three.

Friday Brain Dump

~HOW in the WORLD is this little guy going to be THREE YEARS OLD tomorrow?!  Love my nephew Banks “bunches and bunches”! J

~Yesterday’s post coupled with stress at work and emotional exhaustion have me in quite a pity-party mode.  But I won’t dwell, because no one wants to wallow in negative blog nonsense.

~I have been on the hunt for candy corn Oreos with no luck.  Everyone says to check Target – well, I’ve checked TWO Targets… no dice.

~About a week and a half ago, Cameron made the transition to where she actually prefers to walk.  It’s like she realized how fun it is, and now she doesn’t want to be held and doesn’t want to crawl – Homegirl wants to WALK, or as of late, even attempt to run.  Watch out world.

~I have a feeling that the transition to cow’s milk isn’t going to go as seamlessly as I’d hoped (made apparent when CK took one sip and hurled her sippy cup clear across the kitchen).  With a tanking supply and a freezer full of funky-smelling milk, I’ve been a tad bit stressed.

~I signed up to do another half marathon in December – Woop!  I’m excited, but also a little nervous because I have neither the time nor the motivation to train like I did for my last one.

~Cameron will transition to the toddler room in her school on the 22^nd of October.  While I know she’s ready for the change (though I can’t believe she’ll be sleeping on a little cot!), I am SO sad that she’s moving out of her current class because I LOVE her teachers.

~It drives me crazy when people don’t rsvp to a party/shower/wedding/etc.  I mean, how hard is it to send an email or make a quick phone call?!  This mama needs to plan, people!!

~We’re taking CK to the fair next week!!  I LOVE the fair!!!!!

~We live under huge oak trees and this time of year the acorns fall constantly, making it sound like we live inside a bag of microwave popcorn.  It’s driving me crazy.

~I don’t plan on taking Cameron door-to-door for Halloween trick-or-treating, but I hope we can find something fun to do because I love her costume!

~I wish I had a chef.  And a stylist.  I’m not sure which I’d want more…

~I’m having a really hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that our little girl will be a whole year old in just a week-and-a-half!!  Speaking of being a year old, we have her one-year photo shoot this weekend with the very talented Brooke and Joey of Urban Bloom Photography (www.urbanbloomphotography.com).  Fingers crossed for good weather and a happy baby!

Keepin' It Real

Because I always attempt to keep things real around these parts, without spouting too many puppies or rainbows or giggles or happily-ever-afters...

We are in the middle of hand-foot-mouth recovery, two-teeth popping through madness, congested-and-yet-constantly-running-nose yuck, low-grade fevers, thrush for both mama and baby AGAIN, refusing to even consider organic white cow's milk stubbornness, a couple nights of partying screaming from about 1:00am-3:00am, and have-to-be-held-at-all-times moods.

Oh, and did I mention that about 170 ounces of breastmilk in my freezer have, out of nowhere, gone bad?  Leaving 30 measly ounces that are also slightly questionable.

There's not enough Merlot in my kitchen (or in the world) at this moment...

Dear Breastfeeding

Dear Breastfeeding,

When I was pregnant, everyone prepared me for many of the hardships that come along with having a baby – labor and delivery, the recovery, the sleepless nights, etc.

No one prepared me for the journey of breastfeeding.

“Of COURSE I’ll breastfeed!”  I said while pregnant, never really giving it a second thought.

Everyone tells you how it’s the best thing to do for your baby, the perfect combination of nutrients for a newborn, it’s FREE, you should do it at least ‘til your baby is one, blah blah blah.

What NO ONE tells you is how hard it is.

How it is one of the most selfless things you will ever do for your child.

How you can crack, and bleed, and become infected, and feel like they’re going to fall off when your newborn starts nursing.

How you can get thrush (three times! even when your baby is 11 ½ months old!) and have random sharp boob jabs and even more painful nursing sessions.

How you can get mastitis (twice!) and literally feel like you’ve been run over by a train while being stomped on by a herd of elephants. (Do elephants herd?)

How all of these things can happen simultaneously, and meanwhile, since your husband unfortunately doesn’t also produce breastmilk, you’re the only one who can meet your newborn’s needs when she has to eat every two hours over, and over, and over again.

How sometimes, for some babies, getting the hang of breastfeeding with the proper latch and without nipple shields can take weeks, or even months.

How you’re hungrier and are supposed to consume more calories when you’re breastfeeding than when you’re pregnant.

How you often have to completely alter your diet and watch what you eat and drink because certain things don’t agree with your little one.

How your tiny little innocent baby eventually gets teeth and, well, the pain starts all over again.

How, if you’re a working mama, your day revolves around pumping.  And pumping.  And pumping.  And wondering why you’re not pumping enough.  And worrying how you’ll ever pump enough.

How you really will cry over spilled milk.

And yet here I stand, just a few weeks away from calling it quits, from reaching my goal of one year… and I’m a little sad about letting it all go.

Because despite all of those hardships I just mentioned, there’s nothing quite like looking down at your sweet baby in the quiet of a still morning, and it’s just you, and her, and nothing else in the world matters even the tiniest bit.

If you remember, we struggled for ten long, painful, tearful, frustrating weeks.  I’m not sure how I made it without throwing in the towel… But I’m so glad I was stubborn enough to not give up.  I’m SO proud of myself, SO proud of Cameron.

As we head toward the end of this chapter, I honestly have mixed emotions.  I’m definitely a little hesitant to let go of this bond with my sweet girl, but I’m also looking forward to having my body back to myself… I haven’t had my body to myself since the word “pregnant” popped up on that stick on a cold January morning.

I’m excited to live a life without nursing bras, and nursing tanks, and breast pads, and painful nipples, and leaks, and pumping, and engorgement, and that pins and needles feeling.  I’m excited to let my body readjust and get back on track and function properly so maybe we can consider giving our little girl a sibling.  And honestly, I’m excited to live a life where I can eat and drink whatever I want, whenever I want.

It’s been quite a journey with you, breastfeeding.  We’ve had our ups and downs.  I must say, the ups have made the downs totally worth it.  Because though it’s been tough at times (and that’s putting it lightly), being able to provide my little girl with her main source of nutrition for her first year of life has been incredible.  Watching her gain weight, knowing that every ounce and chubby thigh roll came from my body was unbelievable.  Seeing her learn the sign for “milk” and use it to tell me when she was hungry left me in awe.  Having that quiet time with her, knowing that she needed me and depended on me was indescribable.

But here we are… at the end of our road.  Our relationship has run its course, and it’s time for things to come to an end.

It was good while it lasted.

And let’s be real, breastfeeding – I kicked your *ss.

She Found IT

Just a quick update...

That white dress?  She found IT.

There were tears, lots of tears, and a moment in which I realized I'm going to have to come to terms with the fact that she's actually not twelve anymore.

But she will always and forever be my little sister.