Life with More

It's a Saturday. The house is somewhat clean, the dishes are done, the baby is napping (the other two are running errands with dad), my work to-do list looks manageable, I just pulled cookies out of the oven, and I'm feeling pretty accomplished. Like maybe I'm getting the hang of this mom-of-three thing for a minute. Don't blink, the moment won't last. And I say that with humor because, Murphy's Law, something is bound to go wrong.

Reagan is now six weeks old and I can say with confidence that adjusting to baby #3 is a lot easier than baby #1. Even with two older children to care for, the veteran mom knowledge really makes a difference. By 6 weeks with Cormac, I was in excruciating pain every time I nursed him (thanks to severe nipple damage likely caused by a lip-tie which was finally released around 6 weeks), I was living like a zombie surviving on minimal sleep, and I was just barely feeling ready to leave the house and run errands with a newborn. Flash forward 4 years, and I'm working part-time hours at home, shuttling all 3 children around pretty much wherever I need to go (or foregoing an errand until I can get childcare for at least 2), and most of the time managing to put dinner on the table and keep the toilets fairly sanitary. But don't be fooled, I definitely don't have it all together. There are more days now when I lose my temper and yell at the children or snap at my husband than there were with just one baby. Yes, the capacity for love expands exponentially with each child, but my capacity for patience seems to have dwindled. And that's even with lots of help!

I haven't started this new year with a long list of resolutions or big goals because, honestly, I've been too busy to think that far ahead. But I do know that I want to move through this year with more patience, more grace and a sense of balance in our family life. For as much as children learn in the first few years of their lives, I think their parents learn just as much, if not more. Parenting brings out your strengths... and weaknesses. Flaws are magnified in the light of little eyes. Mom guilt is real and there are some days that end in defeated tears, for everyone. Motherhood is a sanctifying process ("...but women will be saved through childbearing..." 1 Tim. 2:15), and I'm grateful to be experiencing it. And very conscious of how far I have to go. I've been so blessed, but that's still easy to lose sight of when you're busy crying over spilled milk (yes, it has literally happened).

Our pastor said something recently (in the middle of another long Sunday morning wrangling toddlers to sit still and shush up in the pews) that made my ears perk up. How do you know you're doing God's will? How do you know what His will really is? Well, up front, we don't. Only God knows that. But we know our purpose in life: "To glorify God and enjoy Him forever" (WSC). So, the surest way to know we are doing God's will is to ask if we are glorifying Him. When big decisions or changes come up and we question whether we are seeking His will, or questioning what He really intends in the midst of our struggle, boiling it down to the yes or no question, "Am I glorifying God?" seems to clarify a lot.

For me, as I start 2018 with a bigger family and a longer to-do list, I want to be asking myself that question more often and acting more consistently with the honest answer. Letting my selfishness or impatience get in the way of pivotal parenting moments is not glorifying to God. Greeting my husband at the end of the day with defeat and frustration is not glorifying to God (or edifying to my husband). Employing my skills and talents to help strangers or friends, educate my children and support my family is glorifying to God. Thinking less of myself and more of others is glorifying to God. And starting my day with a humble appeal to His throne of grace for the wisdom and strength to accomplish these things is essential.

So, what does life with more children look like? A few more broken moments... and a lot more grace.

Loving Lately: Mom of 3/Holiday Edition

1. Christopher & Banks Pull On Denim Jegging

These jeans are the ideal combination of comfort, style, and reasonable price point. They look and fit great, especially for this post-partum mom bod, and they are super comfortable with the elastic waistband. I've been a convert to high-waisted jeans in the last year or so (although, you won't see me tucking my shirts in) and these jeggings come up to just below my belly button. Best of all, they don't sag or stretch out, even after wearing a few days in a row! Which, obviously, is my modus operandi right now.

2. A Windham Hill Christmas

Christmas music is playing constantly in my house or car during this time of year. I love hearing seasonal tunes in the background throughout my day, and the collections by Windham Hill are lovely renderings of traditional favorites. Also, see below... I've been listening to this album on my Amazon Music account!

3. Technology, in general

And Amazon, specifically. I've ordered pretty much all of my Christmas presents here, as well as some new mom/baby essentials -- from diapers and wipes to nursing tanks and compression leggings. And you can't beat Prime 2-day shipping. We also use the Amazon Firestick with our television, and this means plenty of catching up on shows while I'm on "maternity leave"! My favorite shows lately have been Outlander, Poldark and Fixer Upper. I also love the Kindle app on my iPhone, since I enjoy reading during those late-night nursing sessions, and also the BabyHub app for tracking feedings.

4. All the coffee

Caffeine is a necessity when running on 2-3 hours of sleep at a time, and my older children are early risers, so dragging myself out of bed by 6am requires coffee ready in an instant. Pop a pod in the Keurig and we're ready to go! Once again, ordering through Amazon makes it super easy to keep these on hand!

5. Diaper Purse Organizer

I have all kinds of bag, purses, wallets, satchels and other carrying accessories (what woman doesn't!), but not all of them are "diaper friendly". This little organizer tote makes all the difference. Slide it into a regular purse or satchel, and suddenly it becomes a diaper bag! It also makes for much easier transition between purses -- mom's gotta stay stylish, you know. ;)

6. Scents of the season

I enjoy lighting scented candles year-round, but something about the smell of a Christmas tree, gingerbread or peppermint permeating the house really gets me in the holiday mood. These cute little tins by Paddywax also make great gifts or stocking stuffers!

What are your favorites this time of year?

Reagan Margaret: A Birth Story & A Name

And just like that, we're a family of five!

Little Miss Reagan Margaret made quite a precipitous appearance early last Tuesday morning, November 21st, 6:03am, weighing in at 7lbs 3oz, 20 inches long, with a full head of dark hair. She's been with us almost a week now, and we are enjoying getting to know her -- big brother Cormac and big sis Moira have been especially delightful in welcoming their baby sister and I am feeling particularly thankful this Thanksgiving season for the many, many blessings God has bestowed upon us!

As with my other two, I will share details of her birth below and some of the meaning and intent behind her name. If birth stories aren't your thing, skip to the naming details at the bottom of the post!

Reagan's Birth Story

I should preface this story by saying that all births (and babies) are different and I spent a good deal of energy throughout my pregnancy trying to prepare for the different possibilities of this birth. Just because my first two were early, didn't mean this one would be. Just because the first two deliveries went relatively quickly, didn't mean this one would. Yes, there is more likelihood that the latter would be true, but you just never know! When I got to 38 weeks in this pregnancy with no signs of labor, I was starting to feel a little anxious. Of course, I had not experienced any pre-labor signs with my previous two, so I was beginning to overanalyze every ache, pain, and pimple (since acne can be a sign of impending labor!). By the time my mother arrived the Thursday before Thanksgiving, I was beginning to resign myself to 40+ weeks of pregnancy. Despite all plans to the contrary, she had arrived after the birth of both Cormac and Moira since they were both early. Apparently, baby #3 was going to be more accommodating. 

We spent the weekend catching up and enjoying time with the older two children, trying to relax and not worry about when this baby would make an appearance. I'd been fighting a persistent cold for the previous two weeks, and feeling very pregnant, but keeping active was really the best way to stay distracted. The weather on Friday was perfect, so we went for a walk in the neighborhood and hung out at the playground. On Saturday, we enjoyed a visit to Cormac's favorite local destination, the train museum, then went to church as normal on Sunday where I fielded questions about the baby's questionably impending arrival. I woke up early on Monday morning with an annoying low back ache, feeling like I hadn't slept a wink. But we sent the children off to preschool as normal and ran errands, preparing food for the Thanksgiving parties at school on Tuesday and planning meals for the rest of the week. The backache persisted all day Monday, I had very little appetite, and I'll agree with my mother's assessment that I was feeling quite ornery, but I wasn't ready to chalk it up to anything other than the general physical and mental effects of being almost 40 weeks pregnant. By the end of the day, I was more than ready for a hot bath and early bedtime. We watched an episode of Outlander and I was out like a light by 9pm.

5 hours later, I was awake again. The backache seemed to have spread to my lower abdomen, but since I had experienced more Braxton Hicks contractions this pregnancy than previously, I wasn't sure if this was just another normal episode of late pregnancy insomnia. I changed positions and dozed off again. But by 2:30am, the sensation seemed to be more consistent than just Braxton Hicks and the wave-like grip of cramps was starting to seem familiar. But I tried to relax and get a little more sleep -- I was tempted to get out of bed and move around, but if this was the real deal, I figured rest would be best. I wasn't even ready to start timing to see if these were real contractions. As with my previous two deliveries, it takes a little convincing for me to acknowledge what's really happening!

When I finally pulled my phone off the nightstand and opened up the contraction timer app, they were already lasting about 1 minute and about 4 minutes apart. But they didn't seem that painful, so I wasn't convinced this was real active labor. At 3:30am, I got up to go to the bathroom -- and there was the bloody show. When I got back to the bed, I told Patrick I was having contractions and started puttering around getting my bag ready for the birth center. My water hadn't broken yet, for which I was grateful because this pregnancy I was Group B Strep positive and would need to go to the birth center right away for a dose of antibiotics. I padded down the hall to the guest room and let my mother know I was having regular contractions, then made a call to page the midwife. By now, it was 4:30am and I was still walking and talking through the ongoing contractions, which were still about 1 minute long and 4-5 minutes apart. I felt like I was in for a few more hours like this and was trying to mentally prepare for how I would fill the time. Movement and distraction, whether mental or physical, has always been a good tactic for me when in labor. I tend to prefer walking, rocking or some sort of movement through contractions. Nothing hurts worse for me than sitting still or lying down, so all this time I was walking through the house, up and down the stairs, generally staying in motion. 

When I heard back from the midwife on call, she was at the local hospital with another mother who was about to start pushing. She told me to head over to the birth center for a dose of antibiotics, and she would meet us there when the other baby was born. We left the house at 5:15am, the other two children still sleeping and my mother planning to take them to preschool in a few hours. She made a comment as we walked out the door that she expected the baby to be there by noon -- I wasn't so sure. The contractions on the 20-minute drive over to the birth center were strong enough to keep me quiet and concentrating, but not excruciating. We met the nurse there by 5:30am and she checked me right away: 6cm. We figured it would be at least a few more hours, but only long enough for one dose of antibiotics, so she wanted to start the IV in a larger vein since it would likely be removed soon. Or at least she tried to. Unable to get the vein in my left inner arm, she had to try several times (and waiting while I paced through a few contractions) to finally get the IV in my right arm. This was my first IV ever, in my life, and it was the worst. I'm not a fan of needles (one of the primary reasons natural births are my preference) and felt faint the entire time she was trying to get the needle in. Not to mention walking through contractions with an IV pole. But 10 minutes later it was out and I could move more freely again. The midwife on call was still helping with the other delivery, and so they called the midwife whose shift would start at 7am to come in a little early. She was already on her way by the time the nurse started the IV.

After the IV, the contractions weren't lasting as long but started coming closer together -- about 30 seconds every 3 minutes. I sat down on the toilet for a few minutes, and when I stood up there was another bloody show. All of the sudden, I felt the urge to push. Unlike previous births, this feeling was much more (upper) abdominal than (lower) pelvic and almost uncontrollable whether I was contracting or not. The nurse had started filling the tub about 10 minutes previously (she must have noticed something I hadn't) and I was standing by the tub groaning through a contraction when suddenly my water burst all over the floor. Just like in the movies. All of the sudden, I was really pushing. Patrick and the nurse rushed into the room and urged me into the tub. For some reason, I couldn't move. I couldn't stop pushing! I was standing right next to the tub, but could not force my legs into it. And I could literally feel the baby crowning. Plus, I was still mostly clothed, wearing a robe, camisole, and socks. The nurse finally got through to me, "Margaret, you need to get in the water!"

She must have pulled off my robe as I lifted my leg in and stooped to my knees in the water, still wearing socks and camisole -- and I'm pretty sure I was still pushing. Almost as soon as my lower half was submerged in the water, the baby was out. She slid right into my hands and I pulled her out of the water (the faucet was still running!). It happened so quickly, I could barely believe she was already in my arms! The midwife was nowhere in sight! The umbilical cord was looped around her little neck and the nurse helped me detangle it while Patrick managed to snap a few photos on his phone. The baby started squalling right away and I'm pretty sure I said, "Did that really just happen?" We had only been at the birth center for 30 minutes and she was here! Barely 4 hours into active labor. I still can't believe it. When the midwife finally came in, we were resting in the tub. I hadn't delivered the placenta yet but at this point there was no rush. They did give me a shot of petocin, just in case, to help stem what appeared to be a lot of bleeding. But one of the great things about being in a birth center is that there was no rush to take the baby and we enjoyed plenty of skin-to-skin time post birth and she was nursing within 10 minutes. We stayed in the water for probably 40 minutes after birth and moved to the bed a little later where she continued nursing while Patrick and I debated names and joked that he would be home in time for his previously scheduled haircut at 1pm. The birth center only required 4-6 hours stay post birth, and I was already eager to be home. 

My least favorite part of birth is the last bit: the repair (I've had tears with all three deliveries... ugh more needles), but was grateful to be distracted by the arrival of my favorite midwife who delivered Moira at the birth center almost 2 years ago. She regaled us with stories of her recent trip to Ireland while the other midwife stitched me up and Patrick held the baby, who was still yet to be named. We left the birth center by noon with our nameless baby girl, and were home in time for Cormac and Moira to arrive from preschool. They were delighted to meet her -- I'll never forget the looks on their faces when they asked to hold her. Cormac is the proud older brother, and Moira seems quite smitten with "her baby". 

Just a week later, I can still hardly believe she came so quickly -- and still 3 days early after I was so worried she would be late! I am grateful for a fast and smooth delivery, but next time I'm thinking I may have to just stay home and not leave the tub! ;)

What's in a Name: Reagan Margaret McCarthy

As with Cormac, it took us some time to decide on a name for this baby girl. We had debated names throughout my pregnancy, and joked that it would have been much easier it she were a boy (Declan Patrick was our top pick)! Patrick had his heart set on the name Saoirse, but I just couldn't get on board with something so unfamiliar to the American tongue. We did want an Irish name along the lines of Cormac and Moira, but we just couldn't agree. Reagan had not been my favorite all along, but it did seem to be the one we could compromise on. I knew I wanted Margaret for a middle name in honor of my grandmother (also my namesake) and it was a family name on Patrick's side as well. By the time she arrived, I was finally ready to go with Reagan... Patrick took a little more convincing. After nearly 24 hours of debating, I put my foot down with Reagan. And I have faith this little dark-haired beauty will live up to her name.

Reagan is an Irish name meaning "child of the king" or "little ruler", it can also mean "impetuous one". I expect our Reagan will embody all of these meanings; as the youngest, she is already making her voice heard! With each of my children, I have been impressed with a greater consciousness of the responsibility and privilege of parenting, and especially mothering, these little souls that God has given into my charge. They will always be my children, and I always their parent, but God is their Father first and foremost -- they belong to Him much more than me! Reagan's name embodies this quite literally: she is a child of the King of Kings. We claim this promise in the covenant of baptism, and it is a mysterious and wonderful gift that our Heavenly Father has bestowed upon us the gift of sonship through the mediation of His Son Jesus. My prayer is that all three of my children would come to know and rest in this promise!

1 John 3:2 "Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.
John 1:12"To them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name."
2 Corinthians 6:18"And will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty."

Margaret is Reagan's middle name and, while not specifically Irish -- the origin is from the Latin word margarita meaning "pearl" -- it has a long history of use in Irish culture. This is a family name on both sides (obviously mine, my grandmother, and Patrick's great grandmother) and as I have considered its pairing with Reagan the parable of the pearl of great price came to mind:

Matthew 13:45“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it."

As a child of the King, Reagan's life ought to be about seeking and promoting His kingdom -- counting it as more valuable than anything in this world. But this parable also illustrates the lengths to which our Savior Christ has gone for the redemption of His precious ones. "The Pearl presents a wonderful picture of the purchase of the church in preparation for the Kingdom of God." (https://www.cgg.org/index.cfm/fuseaction/Library.sr/CT/BS/k/1153/Parable-of-Pearl.htm).

Reagan's name identifies her as a member of this Kingdom, a precious princess alongside fellow heirs in Christ. What is wonderful about this name meaning, similar to those of my other children, is that I didn't necessarily anticipate the full extent of the promise it would contain. I have considered the various meanings of their potential name for each of my children before they were born, but the relevance of each seems to become more complete after these littles ones arrive and my prayers over them become more specific. I continue to pray through the promises in the names of both Cormac and Moira. I am so thankful for the blessings God has given us in these precious little ones and what he continues to reveal to me about Himself through them!

Maternity Photos

When I was expecting McBaby #1 (Cormac), Patrick and I were able to get some photos taken by a talented friend. It was a fun session, and the resulting photos were fantastic! I cherish them and love how they captured those sweet days before we welcomed our first child into our lives. Life does change a lot after you have children, and even more so with additional little ones, but these are good changes and I feel so blessed to be experiencing them. The childbearing and rearing years are relatively short, when viewed in the entire span of life, and I'm trying to really enjoy them while I'm in them!

I took several iPhone selfies when pregnant with McBaby #2 (Moira), but no professional shots. I managed to snap a few of myself with my tripod and remote, including our Christmas card photos for 2015. With McBaby #3, I wanted to get some professional shots done to capture this phase of life and, honestly, to give myself an ego boost! Mom life can wreak havoc on your appearance and mentality, but there's nothing like professionally shot and edited photos to make you feel good about yourself. Especially when very pregnant! ;) I'm so glad I had these done and will cherish the memory of carrying baby #3 thanks to these lovely photos.

Learning To Say No (and getting over FOMO)

This phrase has been on my mind a lot lately. And specifically how it applies to my roles as wife, mother, business owner, artist (the list goes on). As we grow older and discover our talents and preferences, opportunities abound. And for many, many years, it was in my best interest to pursue as many as I could! Making new friends, joining new clubs, trying a different sport, accepting challenging jobs, traveling to new cities and foreign countries.... why say NO? These opportunities turn into wonderful, unforgettable experiences. Saying YES has some incredible benefits. 

But, somewhere along the way, it got harder and harder to say no. Saying yes became the default for me and, if you know my personality, that's not a good thing. I am a self-proclaimed people pleaser, and when it comes to saying NO, that can make life pretty stressful. I've come to dread social or work situations where I would have to express some variance of the negative, and it has gotten me into some pretty tight situations with friends, family, co-workers and clients. And recently, I've recognized that something that needs to change.

It's probably one of the first words that I learned and yet, nearly 30 years later, it's become one of the hardest words to say.

No is such a simple word, but it has so many implications. We hear it a lot in childhood: "No talking in church. No TV on a school night. No hitting your sister!" No is an important word for settings boundaries with children. And I never liked hearing it! But I also never fully comprehended how hard it would be to say it to my own children. It's so simple, right? Just say NO and that's the end of it. Not quite... they keeping asking. Again. And again. And again. But it never occurred to me (until now) that denying my children proves to be just a much about denying myself. It's not easy. When they ask for the millionth time to watch cartoons when they really should be playing outside, it would be so easy for me to give in and glue them to the TV so I can get some stuff done. But is what really what's best for them? Or me? The harder choice tends to be the better one. Why does it always work out that way? Parenting is a microcosm of life and has taught me so much about myself in 3 short years, shining a giant spotlight on my flaws and shortcomings. I can't imagine what I'll learn in the next 30 years... But what it's showing me now is that saying no is a difficult, but vital, choice that often is better for everyone in the long run.

Saying no doesn't always have to mean self-denial, but it can often mean a perceived negative impact on those around you. I finally realized that, for the longest time, my fear of saying no was what might be commonly termed as FOMO (fear of missing out). How could I possibly say no when this opportunity is full of potential for ________? (Fill in the blank with fun, learning, money, networking, the greater good, whatever it may be). I've attended social events, joining nonprofit boards, taken on clients, and generally added to my workload by saying yes because I thought if I said no I would really be missing out. But, when I realized days, weeks or months later, that I wasn't fully committed to the project/group/event, and my efforts were not 100%, the time dedicated was draining my energy of other worthy causes, and causing me to feel resentment, the original rush of YES has left a bitter taste in my mouth. I said yes because I thought they needed me, that it wouldn't get done without me, or that I would be missing out on something if I didn't. The truth? The world will go on turning without my efforts. Things will still get done, the party will start and finish and I won't be a less fulfilled person for not attending.

It's a strange realization to come to, discovering that after many years of life expanding and filling hours with every new opportunity (which is a good and wonderful thing), it whittles back down to just the necessities, what's really important. I have discovered a sense of contentment in knowing that I may be missing out on one thing while I'm treasuring another. Like rocking my babies to sleep instead of meeting friends to try a new restaurant or attend a business networking event. Priorities change as our lives change, and learning when and how to say no is part and parcel of that. An enthusiastic 5 years ago may be a hard NO now. And that's okay. Just because the opportunity is there, doesn't mean we have to take it. A big part of this is trusting that God places opportunities in our lives for a reason -- and learning the wisdom to accept or reject them is often about giving up control.

Adulthood offers so many privileges and it's easy to get used to the power of yes, controlling what comes into our lives and "leaning in" to everything life has to offer, as the popular book would say. (More on that? Check out this article) But what I realized is that every yes, comes with a no. There's only so many hours in the day, and you can't be two places at once. When the yes means that other people or projects in my life will suffer, it must become a no. This means thinking a little longer and harder about making decisions. It means planning out priorities and focusing on necessities. It affects budgeting, parenting, social life, spiritual life and mental health. And as I learn to trust that God will provide the right opportunities, even when I say no to something that sounds wonderful, I am discovering a new sense of freedom and peace in decision-making that could never co-exist with FOMO. Fear of missing out? More like Finally Opposing More Opportunities. I'm not sure that one will catch on, but you get it, right?

All things are lawful, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful, but not all things edify. 

1 Corinthians 10:23

New Every Morning

January 1st came and went. It's the start of a new year, and I am SO not ready for it. Christmas was a whirlwind of tissue paper, toys, travel and not a few tears (not necessarily in that order). We left our house in Indiana at 3am the day after Christmas to catch an early morning flight in Chicago, landing in Atlanta around 9am, and filling the next few days with family fun, including a memorable visit to the Southeastern Railway Museum (Cormac was thrilled!). We arrived back home late Friday night with my mother in tow, and spent New Year's Eve at a wedding. And then, all of the sudden, it's 2017.

In years past, I've had a list of goals, resolutions, anti-resolutions, statements or some-such, ready to go. This year, I've been caught unawares. Is this a bad sign? First day of the new year and I'm already behind? I think it just means I need to take a little more time to figure it out. Perhaps this year should be the year for more breathing room, taking time to step back and enjoy the precious moments I've been given, to share them with my little family, rather than continuing to run forward at breakneck pace, trying to fit in more than any one person possibly can. It's easy to get caught up, to say "yes" more than "no", and painstakingly piece together a schedule that fits everything within the spare minutes of every day.

But maybe everything doesn't have to be done. I feel as though I've spread myself thin and perhaps now is the time to reign it in. The whole world doesn't need me to commit to everything, but I can name least three people who do need me on a daily basis. If I'm overfocused on everything else, will I have the time and energy I need left to devote to them? I don't want to withdraw from all activities -- just focus on the things that are most important. Prioritizing can be difficult but, at certain times of life, it becomes more necessary. My children are young and need a mother who is present, even in the little moments that may not seem to matter much. My husband is responsible and hard-working, he handles so much on his own, but he still needs a wife who is resilient and encouraging, especially at the end of a long day. My creative juices rarely cease flowing, and I will always seek outlets for that, but perhaps this year means focusing more attention on fewer projects, rather than spreading myself too thin for the sake of an opportunity or a paycheck.

I can name three things right now that I'm going to stop doing. And it will mean three things I can do better for my family. I guess it's not really about what my priorities are so much as who. Mothering is a selfless gift of time and energy. But the funny part is, the more you give the more you get. So if giving less to other people means giving more to my family, I think it's the right move.

January 1st was also a Sunday. We got up and went to church as normal, but the words felt like they were directed to me in particular, even as I wrangled an antsy three-year-old. Amidst the whirlwind of activity, busy holidays and travel, a year full of change and growth, I was feeling worn out. The verses from Lamentations came from a place of struggle and emptiness, "my soul is bereft of peace." (Lamentations 3:17). I wasn't quite that far down, but as a young wife and mother, it's not hard to imagine a place of mental, physical and spiritual exhaustion. But that's not an ending; it's a beginning.

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;his mercies never come to an end;they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,“therefore I will hope in him.” Lamentations 3:22-24

Starting the new year from a place of faith means trusting in God's faithfulness. Rather than striving to carve out my own goals, pursuing every new opportunity and struggling to keep up,  I can rest in His mercies that are renewed every morning. That's an impressive promise. But one I can place my hope in. And it makes the start of a new year that much more exciting.

So, cheers to a new year with no resolutions. To doing less and being more. To trusting in God's faithfulness rather than my own provisions. 2017, here we come!

A Day in the Life...

Inspired by this "Day in the House" series, and as a follow-up to my day in the life post from a couple years ago, I figured it was time for a new post about what life looks like for us in the McCarthy household most days...

6:00am Cormac is in my face asking for "eggs and toast". He is the early riser in our household and he is ready for breakfast right away. Occasionally, he will crawl into bed with me, Patrick and Moira (who joined us around 4am for an early morning nursing session), making us a rather reluctant but cozy co-sleeping bunch.

6:30am We're up and downstairs, I plop Moira (7mos) into the high chair with a few finger snacks, while Cormac (2.5 yrs) joins me in his special corner counter seat while I prepare his daily breakfast of choice: eggs and toast. Oh, I should probably let the dog out... (Flynn, 2.5 yr-old pitbull; yes, we got a puppy when Cormac was 4 months old)

6:45am Cormac seated with his breakfast, Moira distracted with a sippy cup of water which she still can't quite grasp, but enjoys gnawing on, I turn on the kettle to fix my giant mug of coffee. The coffeemaker and Keurig sit un-used on the counter... I prefer a single-cup filter method at the moment. Gotta let that darn dog in and feed her something, too.

7:00am  Breakfast done, wipe up the grubby faces and hands, send Cormac to use the potty (we're at the tail end of potty-training), change Moira's diaper and get her dressed.

Our schedule after breakfast depends on the day of the week. Mondays are for errands, groceries, housework; Cormac goes to half-day preschool on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays; Friday is reserved for playdates, Bible study, or special activities outside the house. So, let's do a Thursday... :)

7:30am Pack Cormac's lunch and wrangle him upstairs to get dressed (or bring clothes downstairs to the family room where he's playing with his toy kitchen... whichever seems more efficient at the moment).

7:45am Decide whether it's worthwhile to turn on the cartoon Cormac is begging for (PJ Masks on Disney Jr) or distract him with other activities for another half hour...

8:15am Dad is downstairs and ready to get going. He helps keep my morning sane by dropping off Cormac at preschool before he heads to work. We strap Cormac into his carseat (sometimes it's a two-person job) and they head off. Oh yeah, he brings the dog to work with him, too. Hooray for dog-friendly workplaces.

8:45am Moira is ready for her first nap, so we head up to her room and rock for a few moments before I lay her down in the crib and I attempt to get dressed. Usually after the morning madness, she's pretty ready to nap. Occasionally, she needs some convincing and I go between my bedroom and hers (right next door), soothing her for a few moments between decided on what to wear (working on my Fall Capsule Wardrobe), how to do my hair, and whether today is a day to put on make-up (depends on whether I have a client meeting or just feel like it).

9:00am Moira is asleep (hopefully) and I sit down to my computer to get some work done. I work from home as a freelance graphic/web designer and I am thrilled to be able to get creative pretty much every day. I get to design logos, websites, print materials, and a wide range of other things for small businesses, nonprofits and a few corporate clients. It's a dream job and I'm so blessed to have it.

9:15am After reviewing my e-mail and calendar for the day, I get down to businesses. I've recently engaged the services of a virtual assistant to help me stay organized. She is amazing at reviewing my inbox, assessing my work load, and scheduling projects into my work calendar. This helps me avoid project paralysis (so much to do you don't know where to start). I work anywhere from 18-25 hours per work, and try to fit it in primarily during preschool hours and nap times. Occasionally, I get up early or stay up late to finish a project, but (as you can imagine) it's pretty much impossible to get any real work done with two live children to care for. ;)

11:00am Moira is awake and crowing (not unhappily) in her crib. I head upstairs to feed her -- she is nursing about 6x a day and these quiet moments are usually a welcome break in our busy routine. She is a fast eater (usually done in 6-8 minutes) and I bring her downstairs to crawl around in my office while I wrap up whatever I was working on.

12:10pm We leave the house to pick up Cormac (his preschool is 5 minutes away, big win). Wait, did I eat breakfast? Sometimes not... usually I snag a banana or yogurt somewhere around 9:30am, or heat up dinner leftovers around 11:30am... and sometimes I just forget or work straight through.

12:30pm Cormac eats lunch at preschool, so after picking him up I take the opportunity to run a few quick errands with both kiddos strapped in the car (in an attempt to get them to fall asleep). Usually this involves a run to the bank or post office.

1:00pm Home again, home again, jiggity jig. If I'm lucky, one or both of the children are asleep. Cormac usually transitions to his bed pretty well, while Moira may need a little more convincing. If Cormac is awake, I put him in his bedroom to play quietly. Even if he doesn't go to sleep, "quiet time" is necessary. And usually he does fall asleep after a little while.

1:30pm Moira is asleep in her crib (or in her carseat on the dryer... whichever works) and Cormac is in his room talking to his stuffed animals (love hearing these conversations from my office). I sit down to my computer again to get some more work done. I try to arrange my projects into 1-hour work blocks, but more often than not I end up jumping from one task to the next as the ideas flow and I hop from one program or internet browser to the next. If you were to watch my work process, you might be a little confused... things don't necessarily happen in progression. An urgent e-mail might throw off my entire workflow as I switch to a new task. My favorite projects are full-on brand platform creation: starting with logo design, website design/development, ID kit/collateral design and anything else to get a business launched. But a typical day could include anything from flyer design or e-mail design (MailChimp is my fav e-mail platform) to the minutia of website updates for a local nonprofit.

3:30pm Nap/Quiet Time is over (Cormac is calling to me from the top of the stairs) and I head up for a big post-nap hug. He is very cuddly after waking up. Moira doesn't stay asleep for long when Cormac is up and making noise... she's attuned to his voice! She loves to crawl around after him and do whatever he's doing.

4:00pm The weather is nice, so I encourage Cormac to play outside with his water table or toy trucks (he likes to push them around in the dirt and generally make a mess). If I have a quick project to wrap up, I'll bring my laptop outside and sit in the grass with Moira, but I generally don't get much done, so more often than not I'll bring a book or some toys to occupy Moira and run around with Cormac.

5:00pm Time to start cooking dinner. I try to cook most weeknights, but I reserve the weekends for take-out (pizza!) or leftovers. This week I've been cooking recipes found in my monthly copy of Real Simple, using ingredients from our weekly CSA basket that is chock full of fruit and veggies. Tonight: Chicken with Blistered Corn and Tomato Salad. We got several ears of corn in our basket, and I substitute the called-for spinach with fresh green beans. Yum!

5:15pm Dad gets home. Happy dance! Everyone is excited to see him. He tags in to play with Cormac and Moira.

6:00pm Dinner time! We sit down at the table to eat together, and I spoon feed Moira a mixture of mashed fruit or veggies and rice cereal while we eat and encourage Cormac to try his veggies. Doesn't always work. But he loves the chicken and asks for seconds.

6:30pm Dinner's over, we try to sit and talk a bit before Cormac begs off to play in his room. I clean up Moira and get dishes into the sink or dishwasher. Patrick heads upstairs to play Cormac's new favorite game: Bert & Ernie in the Tent (involves lots of different voices and hide&seek in a pop-up tent in Cormac's room).

7:00pm Bathtime! We do baths every other night or so and usually put the two kiddos in together, although occasionally Moira first and Cormac second. Moira gets out first and I get her into diaper and pajamas before we sit down for a pre-bedtime nursing and rocking session. She is pretty sleepy and once she starts sucking her thumb, I place her in her crib and quietly shut the door. Sometimes she fusses a bit when she realizes I'm gone, but lately I've just been letting her work it out... she is usually asleep in 5-10 minutes. I sneak into my bedroom to throw on some lounge/pj clothes.

7:30pm Patrick has wrangled Cormac out of the tub and into his night-time pull-ups and pajamas. The three of us sit down on his bed for story time and songs before tucking him in. Patrick cuddles with him for a few moments longer since he's going through a "scared of the dark" phase and every once in a while he will sneak into our bedroom and fall asleep after we've gone downstairs.

8:00pm We both fall into the couch for a moment before I decide whether I want to clean up the kitchen tonight or save it for the morning. Patrick turns on Naked & Afraid or, our recent favorite, Married At First Site. If I need to wrap up a project, I'll pull out my laptop and (half-heartedly) work while watching. Sometimes we chat about the day, or upcoming days, but generally we can enjoy each other's company without conversation. :)

10:00pm If I haven't already fallen asleep on the couch, I take my vitamins, grab a glass of water and head upstairs for my bedtime routine. If I'm still wide awake (e.g. drank something with caffeine after 12pm), I'll stay up reading in bed for a little bit, or watch an episode of Blue Bloods with Patrick before we turn out the lights.

10:30/11:00pm Nighty night. Until 4am when Moira wakes up for some comforting...and the day starts all over again :)

Two, Too Wonderful

My little Moira is 6 months old today, and I suppose that warrants an update. The last 6 months have been wonderfully busy as we've learned to operate as a family of four. It's funny to think that she was born only 6 months ago -- I feel like I've had two children for much longer. The minute I discovered I was pregnant, I started trying to wrap my mind around the idea that I would be a mother of two. Parenthood is a magical thing, in that it pushes you beyond the limits of self, expanding your heart and mind to accommodate the physical, emotional and spiritual needs of another little soul. It is daunting to approach this task of a lifetime all at once, but God graciously extends and expands His grace to meet our needs as parents day by day.

I feel a little bit like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, or maybe Ebenezer Scrooge (Christmas in July?), in an I-was-never-grouchy-about-motherhood sort of way. But like these classic characters, I didn't know what I was missing. And now I can hardly remember what it was like not having these two sweet, messy, rambunctious, intelligent, hilarious, precious children. I have SO much more to learn about being a mother, (a wife, sister, daughter, friend...the list could go on), but God continues to enlarge my heart and open my eyes to truths previously unknown. Parenthood is a blessing and a burden. A privilege and a responsibility. And I'm so grateful I've been given the opportunity to be mother to two wonderful little ones.

And now, on to more mundane thoughts?

The early months with Moira rushed by. She is a pro at nursing and was sleeping 6 hours at night by 6 weeks (hallelujah!). Cormac was (and still is) a more difficult sleeper, so it has been a pure grace that Moira almost immediately adapted to a routine that gave me enough sleep to feel like a normal human being. First-time motherhood is difficult, there is so much to figure out. Second-time motherhood feels a little more comfortable and, dare I say it, easier. It all depends on the baby, of course, but being a second child myself, I like to think we are generally more chill than firsts. We'll see how that plays out over the next several years... ;)

Overall, adapting to life as a family of four has been pretty smooth. I've been able to adjust my freelance schedule to accommodate a new routine. And I'm also learning more about how to manage expectations and set goals for my work life and personal life. Family always comes first for me, but it can be very easy to get caught up in important projects or high-priority clients. I am so grateful that I've been able to continue designing and doing what I love while also caring for my children and home. At the same time, these years when they're young will fly by (they already are!) and I want to enjoy them and ensure I'm committed to leading them through these precious days. Or is it they who are leading me?

The other amazing thing about parenting? How much it teaches you about yourself. I continue to feel challenged by every new phase of growth (read: current phase of rambunctious and creepily smart 2.5 year old boy!), reminded of my failures, encouraged to serve better, trust more... and I wouldn't have it any other way.

And now for the cute pics to commemorate Moira's half-year birthday! :)

       

SaveSave

Magnificat for Moira

Every once in a while, I feel inspired enough to write poetry. It hasn't been much lately (my creative inspiration goes to other worthy outlets), but after Moira was born, I found several lines running through my head. A song from preschool days kept popping into my thoughts (which, as it turns out, is a Disney song! https://youtu.be/V_IrdS-zu48) and the tune was infectious. I couldn't remember any more than the first verse, but it rang so true in those early days after welcoming little Moira. It still does weeks later, of course, but it was that song being stuck in my head that was the seed of this poem. It is a little bit of a creative re-telling of her birth story, as well as an elaboration on the meaning of her name (both posts preceding this one). And it summarizes what I am feeling these days: the Lord is good to me, and I am so grateful.


O, the Lord is good to me —
in night’s dark uncertainty,
the weak, black hours before
the telltale dawn awaking,
with waters breaking, before
the floodgates of heaven are
opened wide to fill the skies
with lights before unknown —
and God’s glory has shown.

So, I thank the Lord —
He makes His glory known,
‘midst barren branches free
of winter’s menaced hold,
guiding broken paths unseen to
fruitful endings, joy abounding.

He gives me all I need —
known and knowing,
well before the deep and yearning
hours of birth began,
these laboring moans
the echoes far of trumpet call
from here below.

The Lord is good to me —
in His palm the preborn plan
destined long before we knew,
groaning with the pangs of change,
the body from one rent asunder,
spirit released from death's dark shadow,
until a new birth is complete.

Moira's Birth Story

Moira is 4 weeks old today! What a surprise that she decided to make an appearance over two weeks early, although I guess I can say now that it's a trend, considering Cormac was early as well. I am so thankful to say that my second labor/delivery experience was equally as smooth and awe-inspiring as my first. Even, dare I say it, enjoyable. For more details, read on...

This post does contain a few graphic images and details that may not be everyone's preference. If you're not into reading birth stories, STOP NOW! And don't say I didn't warn you.

The dog woke me up at 1am on Thursday morning, January 28. She was barking at nothing again. Or probably something (like a squirrel or a moving tree branch), but this was still somewhat unusual for her in the dead of night. Perhaps she knew something big was about to happen... I must have fallen back asleep, but I awoke again at 1:30 to hear Cormac shuffling into our bedroom. He's been in his "big boy bed" since November, but he still occasionally makes his way to our room at some point during the night or early morning (usually closer to 5:30am). I pulled him into bed with me and closed my eyes, feeling too sluggish to walk him back to his own bed. I fell back asleep, but not for long.

I shot awake again as I felt the rush of fluid. I thought I might be dreaming, but the sensation was all too familiar... I just couldn't believe it was happening so soon. I thought I had at least another week! My mother wasn't supposed to arrive until next Thursday! Is this really happening? Cormac whimpered next to me as I sat up in bed and tried to decide what to do. The clock said 2:03am. I made it to the toilet before the next gush -- my water had definitely broken. The rush of adrenaline hit and I sat for a moment trying not to giggle at the irony of the situation. We'd had dinner with my in-laws the night before (pizza, yum!) and my mother-in-law had said something about how low I was carrying. I joked throughout dinner that this baby wasn't coming any time soon... little did I know! I'd seen the midwife that morning as well, with no signs of the onset of labor (I was only 37 weeks after all) although my fundal measurement had gone down to 35". That should have been a clue. Either way, man makes his plans... and God shows His sense of humor in moments like this.

I stepped back into the bedroom and whispered to Patrick, "Don't freak out...my water just broke."

For Christmas, I had bought him tickets to see one of his favorite bands play in Detroit the following evening and I was already thanking God that the show was not until tomorrow. Given my previous experience, this baby would be born today and Patrick would still be able to see his show. Yes, that is literally what I was thinking. And I told him so in no uncertain terms. "You are going to see that concert!"

These things being decided, I crawled back into bed to start the waiting game. I was not yet feeling any contractions and didn't want to alert the midwife or anyone else until I was sure something was happening. Of course, sleep was the last thing on my mind at that point, but I knew I should try to rest. Cormac was still in bed with us but not quite awake. I snuggled him close to me and shut my eyes, but sleep was elusive (as one might imagine). I was worried that maybe contractions wouldn't start at all, or that things wouldn't progress as they should... it just seemed too soon for this to be happening! But about half an hour later, the mild contractions began. So mild they were not even worth tracking, and by that point I was too excited to sleep. So, of course, I called my mother. It was about 3am.

I was a little nervous about having to tell her that I had gone into labor early... again. With Cormac, she was supposed to arrive on a Saturday. I went into labor on a Thursday night and he was born 7 hours later. This time, I was going into labor a whole week in advance of her planned arrival date, and 17 days before my due date! We just can't seem to get the timing right with this stuff. Maybe with the next one... ;) She answered after a few rings (even at 3 in the morning!) but didn't sound too surprised. I hung up hoping that she would be able to make it up to Indiana by the next day.

I finally called the midwife as well. Or rather, the hospital to page the midwife. When I got the call back, it was a midwife I had only seen once before and I was a little worried that I would be delivering with someone I didn't know that well. But decided to just wait and see what happened. The contractions continued, still mild and easy enough to walk/talk through. Patrick was awake at this point and starting to get things ready that we hadn't finished yet: getting the infant car seat installed, packing up our bags for the birth center and throwing last-minute things in the car (we thought we would have time for this!). While he got things ready downstairs, I did what one would expect all laboring mothers to do: painted my toenails. I had distinct memories of looking down at my feet while giving birth to Cormac and apologizing to the midwife for the sorry state of my pedicure. That was not going to happen this time! I painted a quick layer of magenta on both feet (legs hoisted onto the bathroom vanity counter). From afar, they looked ok. Good enough for me. And perhaps this was a good stance for getting the baby's head into the right position? Who knows.

Cormac was starting to wake up a little more, and around 5am we called Patrick's parents to let them know what was going on. They showed up 10 minutes later. I was still at a point where contractions were not too difficult, so I made coffee for my father-in-law and we all sat in the family room watching the news and keeping Cormac entertained. The plan was to send him to preschool as usual and keep the routine as normal as possible. We didn't know when the baby would arrive, so it made sense to just keep him on schedule. I hadn't expected such a crowd during labor this time around, but it really wasn't so bad and it was nice to have extra hands to keep Cormac occupied. To keep myself busy and distracted, I decided to work on a design proposal that was due the next day. I had been able to get some work done on it the previous evening while Patrick took Cormac for an hour, so this was, of course, the ideal time to finish things up. I sat in front of my computer, leaning forward with contractions and trying to focus on the screen. I was half-heartedly timing contractions and not seeing any real pattern in length or time apart. But this is how it was with Cormac...

Around 6am, I still wasn't feeling much progress, so I decided to try to go back to sleep. I brought Cormac with me (I didn't want him to be exhausted for school), and we both somehow managed to fall asleep for another hour or so. Patrick came in a bit later to check on me and get Cormac ready for school. I don't remember when, but at some point he went to pick up Gatorade. I remember being really thirsty, but also having to use the bathroom often. Must have been the baby was positioned directly on my bladder.

I called the hospital again around 8am and was relieved to find that shifts had changed and the new midwife on call was the one I had seen the most during my prenatal care. I felt most comfortable with her and was very happy to know that she would most likely be the one delivering the baby. The same situation had happened with Cormac (although he was born just as that midwife's shift was ending!), and I'm so thankful that God was looking out for me during both deliveries. Even though my mother wasn't able to be there, at least I was with other women I felt comfortable with! I told her I still wasn't feeling a lot of intensity in the contractions so she told me to just stick home and see how things progressed. I was really starting to get nervous that this was going to be a much longer labor than my first, so I tried to just relax and keep myself occupied with easy activities. Like folding laundry -- perfect for a laboring mom! By this time my in-laws had left to take Cormac to preschool and Patrick decided to pop out and pick up some breakfast. He returned with McDonald's breakfast sandwiches while I was folding the laundry and breathing through contractions. At one point I remember getting down on my hands and knees to see if a different position would affect the intensity -- it did. The contraction I felt in that position was more painful and a little longer than the previous ones, and I was grateful because it finally was starting to feel like something was happening.

I ate about half of my McDonald's Egg White Delite (yum!) before deciding it was time to head to the birth center. One of my primary concerns with this delivery was decided when to head to the birth center. We had just barely arrived at the hospital in time with Cormac (I was already at 10 cm dilated and +2 station!) and I didn't want to repeat that situation this time around, especially considering it was a longer drive. So we got in the car, figuring we would still have a few hours of laboring to go. The drive was about 20 minutes long, and I only had 3 contractions, not quite 45 seconds each, and then another one after we had arrived at the birth center and pulled into the garage. I distinctly remember walking back and forth next to the car in that chilly garage waiting for the contraction to end. Not until then was I ready to walk inside (after opening the wrong door first -- it opened to the exterior, oops).

Another baby had just been born at the center and there were only 2 other rooms -- one of which was undergoing some renovations. So we got the last room available! Good thing there wasn't another baby being born... We got into the "Victorian" room (haha, would have been my last choice if given an option) and I tried to make myself comfortable. NOT on the bed. My method of dealing with contractions is to pace back and forth and breath deeply. So while the midwife got us checked in and took some notes, I walked and breathed through contractions. She didn't want to check me quite yet (they try to do so as little as possible after the water has broken) but did have to take my temp, blood pressure and try to listen to the baby's heart beat with a fetal monitor. I remember feeling a little annoyed about trying to stand still (or rather, rocking in place) while she listened before, during and after a contraction. I was still laughing and talking between contractions, so she was still thinking we might have a while to go. She left the room to check on the other family and we waited through another couple contractions.

When she came back (I'm not sure how much later, the timing got a little hazy at this point... all I know is that we arrived at the birth center a little after 9am), I was probably making a little more noise with contractions so she decided it was time for a check. Lying down on the bed and enduring a contraction in that position was miserable. I don't know why anyone wants to be in a bed during labor! But the results were good: 7cm, 100% effaced, 0 station. Things were moving along. And the contractions seemed to changed after that point. Shortly after standing up again, I went to the bathroom and had my "bloody show", laughing and apologizing at making a mess on the bathroom floor. Funny how these things are totally normal and acceptable during labor, even laughable. But also a good sign that things were moving along.

It seemed like all of the sudden my contractions got much more intense and I started feeling the urge to push. Things started happening very quickly and I remember feeling the same sensation before Cormac was born -- this is probably the point when my vocalizations became much more... pronounced, shall we say? Up to this point, I don't think I was making much noise during contractions. But pushing simply seems to require some sort of noise, kinda like when those female tennis players hit the ball. They probably don't even realize they're making such an unattractive sound, but it really must help with the physical action of hitting the ball. Same with pushing through contractions during labor.

At this point, I realized we probably should have asked them to fill up the birthing tub as soon as we got there. I was still in the bathroom so I asked them to start the water. I don't think at this point anyone realized how quickly things were moving (even me). I stood by the side of the tub as the water filled up, rocking and groaning through contractions. And pushing. I remember worrying they were going to tell me to stop pushing (like they did with Cormac), but nobody said anything so I just kept it up. Finally, the tub was full and the water hot enough for me to get in. I climbed in without any assistance (I was ready to be in there!) and immediately got on all fours. The midwife started staying something about turning around to the other direction (there was a headrest/pillow on the other side of the tub), but I was already pushing through another contraction. I think she finally realized that baby was about to make an appearance. After the first push in the water, I reached down and felt the baby's head. I panicked. This was happening really fast! With Cormac, I'd had to push for about half an hour before he was crowning. This time, I could tell the baby was about to come out and I freaked out! I distinctly remember saying "Help me!". At some point in the previous moments, I had asked Patrick to snap photos and I'm so glad I had the presence of mind to do so. The photos included at the end of the post are from the ones he took on my iPhone starting mere seconds after I got in the tub, right up to several minutes after she was born. We were able to verify the second she came out through his photos -- 10:12am!

After the second push, the baby's head was out and I really panicked. The midwife and birth assistant were leaning over the side of the tub, but in my hands-and-knees position they weren't able to do as much and I wasn't quite sure what to do next... I could feel the baby's head between my hands and had to valiantly resist the urge to just yank it out. Finally the next contraction hit and with one final push she was out (whew!). I grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her up to my chest. What a relief, a surprise, a joy. She was here! The umbilical cord was loosely looped around her neck and the midwife was having a time trying to unloop it while I tried to lean back against the edge of the tub. This is the part of delivery where the adrenaline starts to recede and oxytocin hits and I was in a hazy phase of weepy excitement to see our daughter, finally be holding her in my arms, and relief that the hard part was over. Mostly. You always forget about the second half which involves delivering the placenta. Thankfully, it wasn't too difficult and before we knew it, it was time to cut her cord. We were still just chilling in the bathtub and Patrick was sitting in the corner snapping photos with little interest in getting any closer at that point (he was a trooper!) so I did the honors myself.

She latched on almost immediately thereafter and sucked voraciously for a good half hour, if not longer, before we finally got out of the tub to take her vitals and get cleaned up. And stitched up. My least favorite part of labor/delivery. Even after all the pain of contractions, pushing, etc., getting stitched is still difficult for me. Even numbed! Something about the thought of a needle going through the skin makes me rather uncomfortable. I could never be a doctor. But that part was finally over as well and we got to sit (in the bed! haha) and enjoy getting to know our daughter. And figure out what to call her. :)

So here's the photos and my next post will be about her name!

She's crowning... "Help me!"

Last push... I got her!

They're reaching for that cord around her neck. I'm still in shock that she's OUT.

The midwife is laughing at how fast she came!

Putting on a cap and washcloth to keep her warm... I'm overwhelmed.

Cutting the umbilical cord

Hi, baby girl!

Spending some time with dad

Introducing...

So excited and still a little surprised to introduce our little early bird, born 2 weeks ahead of schedule! She is a pretty happy little lady so far, a good eater and sleeper, and we are feeling very blessed.

Moira Kenley McCarthy

Arrived Thursday, January 28, 2016, 10:12am

Weighing 6lbs 14oz, 19.5" long

 

More details to come on the birth story and her name meaning!

How Pregnancy is Different (and the Same) the Second Time Around...

I'm giving myself credit for writing this post at all because, honestly, being pregnant the second time around means there's just not as much time as there was with the first pregnancy! Keeping up with a toddler and freelance work keeps me on my toes pretty much every day of the week. It's a wonder we found time to conceive a second child... TMI? Just checking to see who's reading. ;)

It has been a very difference experience this time around: we're no longer living in Chicago, I'm not working a full-time job and, of course, we have been through this once before. Not to say that makes me a pro (by no means!) but I do feel a lot more comfortable with the physical, emotional and mental changes that come with pregnancy. I can't say I feel the same level of comfort about parenting two children... but we'll get to that eventually, I guess (I hope!).

What's Been Different...

1. The Test: With my first pregnancy, I took a pregnancy test at home, early on a Saturday morning. I was pretty surprised at the results, to be honest, and had to let it sink in for an hour or so before notifying hubby of the impending addition to our family. With this second pregnancy, I was at Target with Cormac and had a sneaking suspicion... so I picked up a test and took it right away in the Target bathroom (classy, right?). The results were instant and I called DH right away. :)
2. The Beginning: First trimester was horrible. With McBaby #1, I had mild queasiness, in the morning, that was usually gone by the time I got to the office. With McBaby #2, it was all-day, non-stop nausea. Eating didn't help, not eating didn't help... it was no fun at all. Not enough to make me lose my lunch, but just enough to be a constant reminder that something was up (in an encouraging "there's-a-baby-in-there but please-make-it-stop sort of way). This was also my first clue that Baby #2 might be of a different gender...
3. The Reveal: With my first pregnancy, the timing worked out so that we decided to let both families know on Mother's Day. It happened to be the Sunday after my brother-in-law's wedding, so we were with lots of family on one side and got to make the announcement in person. For my family in Georgia, I sent a special book about being a grandmother to my mother and waited expectantly for the call when she realized what the gift meant. It was a really happy moment. :) This time around, we were able to announce to both families in person. First, during my father's birthday dinner at our annual family reunion in Georgia. Can't say there was the same surprise as with the first announcement, but it was still fun/amusing to see the looks on their faces. When we got back from Georgia, we bought Cormac a cute "Big Brother" t-shirt to wear at our 4th of July party in Indiana a few days later... it was funny how long it took the family to realize that this meant another little McBaby was on the way!
4. Time flies! As I sit here writing this, I am 36 weeks pregnant. And can't believe that in approximately 3-4 weeks (hopefully not more!) we'll be welcoming this little baby into the world. The weeks and months really have flown by. With my first pregnancy, each week was agonizing, especially early on, worrying about how the baby was doing and feeling anxious over the impending life changes. Of course, I still have concern for the welfare of baby #2, but the anxieties associated with a first-time pregnancy just don't seem to have as much impact the second time around. You know what to expect with labor & delivery (for the most part) and you can anticipate the time and energy required to care for a newborn, and so on. I have some new concerns about what it will be like to care for TWO children rather than just one... but I'm pretty sure taking it one day at a time will get us through. :)
5. Wardrobe: The first time around, I was working full-time in a corporate office environment and my wardrobe reflected that: suit pants, blazers, dressier tops, etc. I don't know how much I spent expanding my clothing options to accommodate my maternity size, but I was glad to be able to feel comfortable and work-appropriate in the clothes I purchased. This time around, I'm at home most of the time and, with the exception of client meetings and church, I don't have as much occasion to "dress up". I've been trying to create a more minimalist wardrobe that really suits my day-to-day activities and clean out pieces that I may have had for years but just don't suit my lifestyle anymore. This process will definitely continue after the baby is born and I return to my pre-pregnancy clothes.
6. Cravings: I wouldn't exactly call them "cravings" in the traditional sense, but I have certainly had different eating tendencies this time around than with Cormac. My first pregnancy spanned more over the warmer months and I ate a LOT of fresh fruit. Perhaps by the pound. This time around, I have been pregnant over the holidays and that has definitely made a difference. Lots more cookies! I've also wanted more protein-heavy items (meat, cheese, etc.) and potatoes... french fries, anyone? Hopefully this baby doesn't come out a total butterball!

What's Been The Same... 

1. Good times! I enjoy being pregnant! Except for the first several weeks of morning sickness (which seemed to drag on and on), I have generally enjoyed this pregnancy as much as the first one. The sense of anticipation is slightly different, tempered by the busyness of every day life with a toddler and working from home, but it is still such an exciting and hopeful time. Aside from a few bouts of illness and tiredness (which is generally resolved by going to bed early), I've experienced a sense of energy and creativity in both of my pregnancies so far that have made it a very pleasant experience. I wish women would talk more about all the happy and positive aspects of pregnancy, rather than waxing poetic over the not-so-enjoyable parts. But, I suppose that' s human nature. Either way, I'm here to tell you that being pregnant ain't half bad! :)
2. Medical Care: As with my first pregnancy, I decided to see a midwife group this time around. I am so grateful that we live within a short driving distance of a highly reputable midwife practice and birth center. Although we had a midwife with Cormac and the experience was everything I could have hoped for, I delivered in a hospital environment (Prentice Women's Hospital in Chicago). This time around, we'll be at a birth center for a more "homey" experience. But the quality and type of care I've had with the midwives has been on par with my previous pregnancy and I'm so grateful that this has been available to me in both pregnancies thus far!
3. Carrying "small": I don't exactly feel small at the moment, but I continue to get comments on carrying "low", and not looking "big enough" to be almost ready to give birth! It may have to do with that fact that I have a longer torso (and shorter legs), but it seems that the baby has plenty of room to hang out in the lower pelvic cavity, so I don't really get as large higher up. I feel as though I'm carrying the same as I did with Cormac (plus maybe a few extra pounds), so it's nice that there hasn't been much variance between carrying a girl vs. boy!
   
4. Labor/Delivery: Well, I'll have to give you an updated on this later... but I do hope my labor/delivery experience is as good this time as it was the first time! I remember having some anxiety about what to expect the first time (who wouldn't?!?), but I also remember feeling at peace that whatever happened was in God's hands, and it would all work out for the best. While I do have one L/D experience under my belt this time around, there are still a million different things that could happen... the same or different. But, as before, I'm putting it in God's hands and trust that He will keep me and baby healthy and happy before, during and after delivery.

All in all, pregnancy has been such a fun and positive experience for me and for that I am extremely grateful. It is such a short time-frame in comparison to the task of parenting, and this is what makes it such a special phase. As much as I look forward to meeting baby girl McCarthy, I'm happy to say I'll also be enjoying these last few weeks of pregnancy... just a little while longer that we're a family of three!