striving to BLOOM WHERE WE'RE PLANTED: a BIG month for our family

In September we were blessed with a healthy baby boy.

We were anxiously hoping and praying that "Beau" would arrive before "Pierre" had to leave for new-hire training in Boston. Thankfully, those prayers were answered! I was so grateful to have Pierre by my side through the progression of labor and when they told us the problems and suggested the dreaded C-word.

Beau was born healthy and big (9 lbs; 22 inches).

"Pierre" had to fly out the next day but luckily my mom had already arrived in town. (Actually I called her on the way to the hospital and she got on the first flight.)

Upon hospital discharge, we (Beau, my mom & I) went to the family cabin to rest and recuperate before driving to California. Those first few days were some of the most emotionally poignant days of my life. (In retrospect I realize my behavior was quite annoying--yet no one conveyed this to me then.) Every time I'd go to pick him up, diaper him, or feed him, my arms would go limp and I'd start bawling, "he's just soooooo beautiful." My life had been actualized in this perfect little being. I spent hours staring at him and repeating how he was so perfect and such a miracle.

Cousin & Beau, at the cabin

Beau's 1st bath

But we had things to do and places to be and I could not remain in that heavenly bubble for long. The drive from Provo to Los Angeles was miserable! If Beau wasn't nursing he was crying. So we stopped a lot and tried many techniques to soothe him on the drive. My body was so physically responsive to him, that I felt like a voodoo doll being pierced with needles at each cry.

My mom was very patient with me on the drive. I'm pretty sure I had multiple outbursts of, "we're never ever ever going to make it! I'm going to bleed to death along I-15!" (I was having trouble with my c-section incisions.) She repeatedly reassured me that everything was okay and we would indeed make it to LA.

Finally we arrived. Our apartment was empty from floor to ceiling other than a pile of boxes in the living room that we needed to unpack before we could shower or cook. There was no furniture. Of greatest importance, there was no bed and no fridge.

My mom was (and is) a superhero. She made a dusty, dirty apartment fresh and clean. She unpacked boxes night and day, brought me delicious healthy meals prepared without the use of a fridge, took sleep shifts with Beau, and always seemed to anticipate my insane thirst the moment before it hit. Our apartment didn't have air conditioning and we were sweating constantly. She was my cheerleader through sleepless days and nights and trouble nursing. She took us to Beau's first pediatrician appointment.

By the time Pierre returned, all of our boxes were unpacked, the kitchen was stocked, our fridge was in place, the necessary nick-knacks had been acquired and, best of all, I was well-rested in high spirits and moderately confident about my newfound role as a mother.