Not a gold-star kind of day

Yesterday was a rough day as a Mama. I'm parenting it solo again for a few days and that always adds some stress. I found it especially ironic yesterday that I had a frustrating morning with my girls, especially with my oldest, because I was trying to hurry out the door so I could get to a Mother's Day breakfast at church.

I was NOT feeling like I deserved to be praised for my mothering skills, yet there I went.

The bedtime routine was not better. I was on edge and impatient and bath time often annoys me. Some parents talk about how much they love bedtime and the routine. I mostly dread the whining and fighting, though I can simultaneously relish and appreciate the bedtime snuggles and reading once we finally arrive to that part of the evening. You know, those last 15 minutes of the day.

Some days, some moments deserve a gold star for patience and good mothering. Yesterday was not one of them. I felt defeated. Deflated. I imagine many parents feel that way after a long day with the kiddos, despite our best intentions.

I can't help but wonder, if there feels to be more frustrated moments than good ones, am I causing permanent damage? Am i wrecking my kids in the way I handle mundane situations? What of my responses are creating new synapses in their brains?

Our kids pick up everything. Everything. When I get frustrated I make an obnoxious grunting noise. My girls now do that when they're frustrated. It's not a cute sound to hear, especially knowing it's a reflection of my own impatience.

I know what all the parenting advice says. Model good behavior. Model politeness. Model self-control and kindness. Knowing best practices and acting on them are not the same thing.

This morning I woke up determined. I woke up early, I showered before the baby woke up. I made a hot breakfast. I was determined to greet the girls with a positive attitude and an unrushed morning routine. And it worked. They got dressed without arguing. They were calm and happy and kind to each other. The morning went smoothly. A gold-star morning, I'd say. Today I deserve a Mother's Day breakfast.

So much about parenting is the small choices, the attitudes we choose. As Daniel Tiger says, "When you feel so mad you want to roar, take a breath and count to four." I need to practice modeling that for my kids. Such wise words from PBS Kids.

Also, I had Adele playing all morning. I think that may have been the real secret to our successful morning. My determination, and all four of us (yes, even my 1-year old belts it out) singing on the top of our lungs, "HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIDE..." as we got dressed, brushed our teeth, did the Morning Things. A helpful parenting tip. We've got to share those when we have nuggets of success. You're welcome.

Weeks

Life has been, well, full.

There's the busyness. Conferences, hosting people, planning meetings, another conference next week with our partners from all over Guatemala and El Salvador. Meetings over Skype. Meetings in person. Planning and emails and deadlines and finances and the usual work week, but amplified.

One of the most intense parts of our jobs is the responsibility we carry over our staff. We currently have 11 staff spread between Guatemala and El Salvador. They are all living in different contexts and facing unique challenges. We are responsible for "worker care," making sure they are being supported physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. It's a huge job, and this week has been extra tough. It's difficult to do these things in a context that is unpredictable, dangerous, and with limited resources. It's like somehow playing a parenting role (some more literally than others) for 11 people from several hours away, while also dealing with 3 girls age 5 and under at home. It's one of the most rewarding parts of the job, but also can be the most challenging.

Cumulatively, I'd venture to say it's been one of the most stressful months we've had here in Guatemala.

We decided we need to rest and have some family time during Holy Week in a couple weeks. We planned a trip and then the plans fell through. I was bummed. Super bummed. I realized I was over-stressed and extra disappointed when this happened and I took it out on my kids, yelling and screaming and super impatient. Don't worry, I made it up to them by buying them ice cream. Mom Guilt at its finest.

Then we realized we have some pending visa issues and we have to travel to either Belize or Mexico to renew a couple of our family visas. Another complication. Fortunately, we figured out new plans, and with a bit of travel we still get to rest for a bit and we will get our visas renewed. I'm counting down the hours.

During such a messy, full, tense month, obviously Ellie would come home from school yesterday with an excited glow. She was chosen to be "niña de la semana" (girl of the week) next week. This is a big deal for her. Like, she's been talking about when this week will happen since last year. Every week the girls come home with reports of whose week it is, what treats they brought to school, etc. This entails us making a large posterboard with pictures of Ellie. It means she gets to share her favorite book with her classmates this week. It means her parents are invited to bring a snack on Thursday (good thing we decided to cut our partner meeting short by a day next week!). It means we need to come up with a sorpresa, usually a fancy version of a birthday party gift bag. Last week one of the girls brought home a brand new water bottle filled with candy and bubbles, for example. Those over-achieving parents sure can ruin it for the rest of us.

Last year's posterboards:

Of course she would be the "niña de la semana" in one of our busiest weeks of the year. Michael and I could only laugh at the timing.

Oh, and then I found another little paper in her backpack that told me that this Tuesday she has a presentation on panthers, in English, Gracias a Dios. This includes another posterboard or visual aid. For her last presentation we just let her draw some pictures on paper to share, and I couldn't help but notice all the fancy books and posters that the other kids rolled into school with. Darn over-achievers.

I started the week off with a couple days of running. I even got a 4-mile run in one night. But by the end of the week I'm so fried I sat on the couch last night and couldn't move. I had the fleeting thought to exercise, but after a day sitting in front of the computer on video calls and answering emails, I was done. I couldn't even make dinner due to the whiny, fussy, sick baby who insisted on being held AT ALL TIMES. Gracias a Dios for Chinese delivery.

I will spend my weekend finding and printing pictures to help Ellie make her posterboard. And learning about panthers. This morning she was singing to herself, "I'm the chica de la semana." She's thrilled, and I want to let her be, and set aside the busy week ahead and let her feel special.

Working From Home: My Version

You may have seen articles and pictures of moms working from home (or this video), and the realities of juggling messy kids with trying to work, between naps and nursings and somehow trying to be productive. Switching your brain from work mode like writing professional emails and reading reports (in my case, in Spanish at times), to comforting your child who just bonked her head or needs a snack in the matter of seconds is a very difficult task.

I have to be OK with the messes, because at least the messes are making her happy, which means I'm not having to entertain her, which means I can focus on work at my dining room table.

I have to be OK with a lot of breaks and interruptions, from the water guy outside to the baby needing another cracker and/or wanting to sit on my lap.

I have to ignore the piled up dishes from breakfast in the sink, though my sensory-aware self goes a little crazy, and focus on work.

Right now, it feels worth it. These two days a week I'm working from home, I get to spend extra precious minutes with my baby, while working at the same time. The interruptions are not all bad. I get to take breaks where I get to snuggle and kiss and hold my baby. Even so, the time is nearing when it will probably make more sense to put her in daycare. She's still at home three days a week with our house help while I'm at the office, but I think at some point being around other kids in a more stimulating environment will be a better choice (she seems to be a bit extroverted). I's a hard realization for me to accept, as I continue to struggle with the "mom guilt" of daycare versus time at home.

On the other hand, working in the office has been really helpful, and going back to five days a week there will have a lot of advantages. I get adult time, Spanish time, I feel productive and useful, and work feels more smooth.

I'm learning that part of being a parent is realizing that what's best for my children might not be the idyllic scenario in my mind. Working at home has its golden moments, but I'm often more stressed and frustrated than I need to be. It's possible I could be a more present Mom in the afternoons if our mornings looked different. The quality of time I'm spending with her in the morning may be more frustrating for both of us now as she gets older and more active.

Yet another transition is on its way.

Another Little Sickie

Ellie slept all day yesterday. We woke her up around 5:30pm to give her meds. That's never happened before. Poor girl.

Today hasn't been much better, though she's been awake more and watched some Netflix.

And of course, Ruby woke up with a runny nose.

The good thing is that whenever I say "tissue," Ruby leans forward and "blows" her nose. Not to be confused with "blow your nose," where she starts blowing kisses instead.

Just a few days ago she hated having me wipe her face, and now she's a pro. She knows exactly what to do. She's seen a lot of wiped noses lately.

She's really into tissue, too.

If I could earn a penny for every nose I've wiped, I could at least buy myself a well-deserved latte. Too bad moms can't send someone a bill. 

On Sleeping. And Not Sleeping.

Ellie, around 18 months.

We've finally had it. It's time to get our baby to sleep more than a few hours at a time during the night.

I remember when Hazel was around a year old, and a friend told us his one-year old was still waking up several times a night. Michael and I had a lot of pity for him. That just sounded awful. We had been blessed with not one, but two great sleepers who had begun sleeping through the night from a few months old.

Hazel, around a year old.

Granted, we assumed a big part of that was what we had done. We worked hard with each of them. We "sleep trained" them. When we heard stories of babies not sleeping through the night, not only could we not relate, but we assumed that there must have been something they were doing wrong different than us, that it was simply a matter of figuring out the right method. I spent several months of their lives stressed and worried and bogged down by sleeping methods.

And then Ruby was born.

She has had nights when she slept through the night, but everything changed when we stopped swaddling her. Also, she took a pacifier for less than a week, and then dropped it like a bad habit.

During the last year, she's had a few miraculous nights where she suddenly decided to sleep all night. Often it is when we're on vacation or in a hotel room together. Coincidence or not, I have no idea.

I've become her pacifier. There's a term I read in a parenting book, "accidental parenting," that refers to things parents do in the moment to appease a situation that is intended as temporary, but becomes a new habit to break. This happened with Hazel when she weaned from her pacifier. She had always been content to lay down and fall asleep within five minutes with her pacifier. When we dropped the pacifier, she was so mad that I decided to pick her up and rock her to soothe her. One or two days of this turned into more than a year of needing to rock her and hold her in order for her to take a nap. (Luckily this only applied to naps. At bedtime she could sleep without this ritual. And this isn't to say that it was all bad. I mostly relished my special nap times with Hazel, especially with the guilt that I was sending her to daycare so young. Accidental parenting and guilt are closely related, I'd say.)

Accidental parenting. All the intentional things I did with my first two that I accredit to them being good sleepers went out the window with Ruby. I didn't have a "start time" every day which I based the rest of the daily schedule on. I eventually started nursing her to sleep before almost every bedtime and nap, a cardinal sin with sleep training methods. I was much less tolerant of any crying in the night. Her not taking a pacifier changed the way we did a lot of things.

And so, here we are with a one-year old who still wakes me up at least once a night, often more these days with teething and mostly habit.

We may have still been correct before. That is to say, I did things to encourage Ruby to continue waking up, so at least in part I know it's my fault that she's not as good of a sleeper. I know this isn't universal, as we've known people to try everything in the world, and still the baby wakes up. I firmly believe now, three kids later, that luck is much more at the center of getting a baby to sleep all night. The baby's personality and temperament make a big difference, maybe all the difference.

She's our third baby, and the last, and I haven't cared nearly as much. I've even embraced the late night feedings, knowing the End of All Things Baby is in the near future. Until lately. Now I'm just tired of being tired and sick of being sick. And I know there are at least some things we can do to help her figure this whole sleeping-through-the-night thing out.

Last night Ruby got her first real taste of self-soothing. Hopefully over the next few nights she will figure out she doesn't need to nurse every few hours. And we'll all sleep better.

I've learned some humility. I knew our confidence (cockiness?) that came with two good sleepers could come to an end with a not-so-great sleeper. I can accept that. I have much more empathy and can relate to a lot more parents than I ever could before.

My husband can fall asleep anywhere.

Now I just want a good night's sleep. It doesn't even have to be great. More than a few hours in a row would be fantastic. 

Feliz Cumpleaño a mi preciosa!

Happy First Birthday to my dear Ruby girl!

I can't believe you're ONE! This may have been the fastest year of my life. I'm so thankful I got to be at home with you for so much of it. 

We love you so much, and I love what an important part of this family you are. 

You are the baby sister, and though that won't always define you, it has changed each of us, both your parents and your older sisters. We all cherish you. 

You are Daddy's little buddy. I love how much you love him. You make a mad dash for the front door when you hear him home from work. You immediately want him to hold you. You love to lounge with him and chill out on his lap. 

Your sisters love to greet you every single morning with hugs and kisses, and you are so happy to see them, too. When you are crying, Hazel often wants to give you a toy to make you happy again. 

One of my favorite daily rituals with you is snuggling with you before I put you to bed. After you nurse, you smile at me, blow me kisses, and whisper to me. I think you're telling me "good night," as I whisper the same to you. You love snuggling with your blankie.

I'm sorry you had a bummer fever today (so did I), but your first (real) taste of chocolate cake seemed to perk you right up.

You are so special to us. We love you, sweet girl.

Happy, Happy Birthday.

A quick first year

Maybe it's because the girls are headed back to school this week, suddenly one year older, or maybe it's normal with the last baby, but I'm feeling a whole mix of emotions as I try to mentally prepare myself for my baby to turn 1 this week.

I was feeling a little emotional and told Ruby this morning, "I'm not ready for you to grow up." And Ellie responded, "I want Ruby to get big so I can play with her." Which reminded me there are definitely things to look forward to in this next stage of normal.

Every time I see a pregnant woman I think, I'm so glad I won't have to go through that again. Which is true, almost 100%.

One of these days soon, Ruby will finally sleep through the night consistently. My guess is she will wean from nursing over the next few months. The last remnants of her first year will fade away.

She's sooooo close to walking. More and more she is wanting to play "with" her sisters. She has several teeth. Like 8 or so (can you tell she's not the first child?)

Teethy Grin

For some reason getting her to eat solid foods was much more difficult than I remember with her two sisters, but we're finally in a good place where she basically eats anything we eat. That's such a good place to be. No more purees, no more separate foods for her. That may be one of my least favorite baby stages-the amount of time spent on preparing food for babies, only to watch them take two bites and spit the rest out.

So yeah, my little Ruby is getting more independent. My older two are starting preschool this week where they will grow in their own independence. Somehow, the first year of Ruby's life flew by. I did what I could to embrace it. During those middle of the night feedings, I tried to enjoy the extra snuggles, the feeling of being needed and providing what no one else can. But with her first birthday comes the glaring realization that, as they say, the days are long but the years are short. 

Welcome to Unpolished Blog 2016

I'm not always into New Years. Usually I have some passing thoughts about what I could resolve to do differently. There have been a couple New Years which have started with intense Resolutions, like the year we gave up meat and desserts at the same time (our families definitely didn't know what to do with those). Most years, I don't commit to much of anything.

2015 was difficult for many reasons. Learning to balance life with a small baby that has yet to learn to sleep through the night consistently, trying to work from home, making time for myself, my spouse, my kids, and never feeling like there was a good balance.

This year there are lots of vague goals in my mind. I'd like to lose that last 10 pounds. I'd like to write more. I'd like to have a better attitude and not get frustrated so easily. Overall, be more positive and enjoy my family more. We have work goals as well, after a long year of me working less consistently and Michael working a lot more to balance it all out.

But goals need to be specific, so I've been trying to think of how to turn these into something more concrete.

So, here they are. Written goals are some % more likely to be achieved:

1. Run a half marathon this year. Yikes. I wrote it. I've said several times in my life I have no desire to run more than a 10K. I was a sprinter in high school and college, not a long distance runner. But I've been enjoying running in my older age. I continue to use my Fitbit and my daily step goals to motivate me to exercise and lose weight. Today I ran about 5 1/2 miles. I'm getting more comfortable with longer distances (longer to me). To combine my goals of continuing to lose weight and stay in shape, I want to train for something longer. Whew.

2. I want to blog every day. I don't know how likely this is. I tend to be a long-winded blogger. But I want to try to sit down and write for 5 or 10 minutes, and push "publish," without having to spend tons of time on my posts. My posts often take me much longer because I read them and review them and edit them several times before posting. I don't like publishing errors. I want to commit to "unpolished" blog posts, where I write about things more succinctly. When I think about this year, there are a lot of things I could write about, personally, as a family, as a foreigner working and living in Guatemala. Things like training for a half marathon while balancing life (maybe if I write it again it will really happen) watching my youngest baby experience her second year of life while knowing we are done having babies, watching historic events in Guatemala, like the new President take power this year. So, "unpolishedblog2016" will be my tagline.

3. Experience more cultural events. Embrace life here. Enjoy my girls more when we're at home together. Read more Spanish newspapers (helps with my vocabulary).

4. Read more books.

That's a pretty hefty list for now. I'm going to get crackin'.

Joy

I want to have Joy. Experience Joy. BE Joy.

A theme I've noticed in my life and in motherhood for longer than I can remember is my lack of patience, even to the point of anger. I'm constantly afraid of how this will affect my girls and my family.

Recently my husband (fairly) cautioned me in my responses to my oldest daughter. I had been snarky and passive-aggressive. My tone of voice was frustrated and even bordered on manipulative in my attempts to get her to do what I want. It scared me as a Momma. I don't want my relationship with my children to be full of threats and frustrated side remarks. She's already learning to tune out our nagging, and I don't blame her. She is so unique and is so many ways exactly like me. People tell me she's my mini-me because she looks like me. But most people have no idea just how much she's like me personality and otherwise.

Hanging on my fridge as a gentle reminder

At our recent team retreat I found myself thinking about JOY. I'm often so focused on the details, or the environment (too loud, too messy...I'm a huge sensory person) that I don't experience Joy in the moment. I just find myself frustrated and mad, and I routinely take that out on the girls by being snippy and short.

Granted, three whining, needy girls don't contribute to a state of blissful thankfulness in all things. But I think if I can look for Joy, if I push myself to find Joy amidst the chaos, if I can seek Joy in the frustrated moments, I'll be more at peace and less angry. I'll be more the mom and person I want to be.

I can choose to see Joy in my girls silliness instead of hearing loud screams.

I can choose to see Joy in the toys strewn all over the floors and the paint dried to the table, because it means they are content.

I can choose Joy in my own reactions when they want to help me cook or work on a project, even if it makes a bigger mess than necessary.

I don't have to be SuperMom. Yet another December is flying by and I feel the weight of my inadequacy. I'm not a Pinterest Mom that pulls off dazzling surprises and projects and meaningful moments every day of Advent. I have some Advent cards with activities I made a few years ago, but we haven't done anything intentional with them this year. I haven't done anything super spiritual to teach them about the true meaning of Christmas. There's still time, of course, but I want to do it with joy, and without the pressure to have a perfect Christmas. I want to be together as a family, full of joy, focused on giving and thinking of others.

This morning I dusted off a devotional book I haven't picked up in weeks, and the theme of Joy jumped out at me in today's reading:

Accept the value of problems in this life, considering them pure joy.

I choose to see my stressors and my problems with a lens of joy. My 10-month old is still waking me up in the night, and I can see joy because she's healthy and happy and I have the ability and means to soothe her. 

My birthday was two days ago, and I spent the majority of the day like any other, at home, with my girls. We crafted, went on a bike ride picnic, and just spent time together. I chose to be thankful and joyful, in awe of the blessing that is three beautiful, loving, energetic girls. 

A birthday project with my girls

Simple moments make the best memories

Maybe it was easier because it was my birthday, but I chose to be more OK with the chaos, and I felt more free to enjoy my girls and just "be." May we all choose to find more joy in this season.

Embrace the Chaos or, How I'm Surviving

As a new mom of three, I keep adjusting my expectations in order to survive. I have these mantras to help me get through the day. Enjoy your kids. One hour at a time. Embrace the Now. My newest, Embrace the Chaos. 

I'm normally a fairly organized person. I like order. Michael and I have had a routine for longer than I can remember that after the girls go to bed we finish putting away any last toys or clothes or chaos floating around. Until we've done that, we can't seem to relax.

When we were first married, a source of newlywed tension was our different approaches to washing dishes. My philosophy was to get them done right after dinner so I could have the rest of the night to "let down my hair." Michael would tell me he'd do the dishes, and he meant that he would, just later. I couldn't stand the mess, so I'd end up washing them myself. I've since been able to let this go, but it took a while.

What I didn't realize until recently is to what level these messes drive me bonkers. The other day our living room looked like a tornado had blown through. In this case, it was actually two cute ones, one named Ellie and the other named Hazel. There we were in the middle of puzzle pieces strewn about, along with toys, shoes, sweaters, backpacks, crayons, markers, and cut up scraps of paper, and I realized I was nagging. As soon as the girls dropped one activity and moved on to another, I began. 

"Clean up those puzzle pieces." 

"Sweep up those scraps you cut up all over the floor." 

"Don't get out that toy until you pick up the other ones." 

In my mind I was doing this because I want to teach them about cleaning up after themselves, that it's not OK to make huge messes and never clean up. And that's partly true, I'm sure. But I realized how much of this was because I couldn't stand the chaos. It was causing me stress because I was letting it.

Then I had an aha! moment. I need to just LET. IT. GO.  

I have become a nagger and a yeller, and it's almost all related to cleaning up. So, I realized that if I held cleaning up messes a bit looser, I might find myself become a happier, less naggy mom. It also meant the girls could actually enjoy play time and the freedom to just be little kids making messes. What a novel thought. This doesn't mean we won't clean up afterwards, but it doesn't have to be the minute they are done playing.

In fact.

We *might* not even clean up the same day. Confession: I have actually left messes out overnight, and even for days now.

The girls had a huge tea party upstairs in their new play area a few days ago. The dishes and food are still in the same spot they are in this picture:

We've been walking around them for a few days now. I've left them, partly as a reminder to just embrace the mess, and partly because I just haven't had the energy to get the girls to clean it up. I know at some point we'll get a burst of energy and do it. Until then, the mess remains. There are other little messes all over the house. 

It helps that the majority of the girls' toys are now in this play area upstairs. What drove Michael and I the craziest was when our living space where we wanted to relax after bedtime routines was a mess. Now the majority of the mess is upstairs. We still pass it several times a day by our bedrooms, but it's a little easier to ignore. 

With two girls I was able to manage the chaos, but I have realized quickly with a third that it's not sustainable to care so much about the toys and clothes all over the house. Feeding or rocking a screaming baby means I might just have to let the girls make huge messes. Yesterday while I was nursing Ruby the girls were playing in the dirt outside and were covered from head to toe in mud within a few minutes. I wasn't planning on doing baths, but they sort of gave me no choice. Yet another change that having three kids has produced. Currently, with Michael out of town, this philosophy is helping me survive a week alone with the girls. I'm embracing the chaos, letting the messes signify fun being had and not a source of stress. 

Embracing the Now

It's a quiet moment.

My baby is next to me on the couch, blissfully asleep. I hear horns honking, trucks revving, and the hammering of construction workers next door, but they are the busy city noises we're accustomed to.

My two oldest girls are at school. Though I fully appreciate this time at home with just Ruby that I am blessed to have, it's hard to ignore some of the thoughts that interrupt my solitude.

I should be resting, but it's hard not to think about the piles of work that continue to grow, that my husband is trying to sift through on his own, as he's back to work and I'm still on maternity leave. This is an insanely busy season for us, work-wise. It wasn't the most convenient time to have a baby and take maternity leave, but on the other hand, our calendar for 2015 is already almost full. My husband is managing more stress than any one person or new father should. But he's doing it with grace. Yesterday he and the girls took a trip to the market to buy produce while Ruby and I slept. They came home and the three of them worked together to clean it all and put it away. They made a great team.

A constant struggle for me over the last almost two years of being in Guatemala is acceptance of our decision for me to work, and for the girls to be in a daycare/preschool. I've written about this, processed it, embraced it. I know there are a lot of benefits. They are learning social skills and (the big one) Spanish. They are learning their letters and numbers and getting to paint and be crafty and play with cool outdoor toys. They have physical education and Ellie started a computer class once a week. And most importantly, they love it. They rush right into their school, barely glancing back at us. So I have peace in that.

But.

I thought I'd be a stay-at-home Mom. I thought I'd be planning playdates and library runs and coming up with my own preschool/learning crafts. (Side note: I'm not very good at coming up with lots of fun preschool activities. So in that they are getting the best end of that deal at their school.) I look at Ellie and Hazel and they seem so grown up. They are learning and changing right in front of my eyes.

Ellie is going to be 5 this year. If we wanted her to, she could start kindergarten here a year from now.

Hazel is 2 1/2. She has been going to a daycare half days since we arrived, when she was 9 months old. That's the hardest part for me to swallow. She is so young still, yet 27 days ago ceased being my baby.

And here I am at home. I experience moments of guilt for sending them off to school while I stay at home. And then moments of relief in the quiet, or in the moments like 5 minutes ago when my infant was crying inconsolably and I had to stop writing, and I'm thankful I'm not trying to appease my older two at the same time (that lovely stress happens when the girls come home at lunch time, and every afternoon and weekend).

So I remind myself it's OK to have this time with just Ruby. That it's OK to send my girls off to school even though I *could* keep them at home with me for a few weeks. We're probably all better for being in a routine.

I just have to embrace the moments. See the blessings. Drink in the quiet of snuggling my newborn who is already changing in her own ways. Because this too, shall pass, and then I will too soon be mourning its passing.

She's Here! (Ruby's Birth Story)

In keeping with tradition, I wanted to write out Ruby's birth story. Unlike Ellie's or Hazel's, there's not a lot of intense detail, as it ended up being a scheduled cesarean. 

We went in for a check-up on Monday, January 12. It was my 39-week check and an ultrasound. Everything had been looking good up to this point. I was very pleased with my weight gain overall, as I gained less than I did with either of the other girls and gained exactly in the range I had hoped for.

The doctor predicted she was about 7 and half pounds, and then paused to tell us that the cord seemed to be wrapped around her neck. I have to say that technology is so amazing. Using infrared technology, the doctor could detect where the blood flow was, and suddenly a bright orange cord showed up around the base of her head. Sure enough, the cord was around her neck.

We talked about our options. We had been planning on this last week for work and wrapping up details before my mom arrived that following Sunday. We had just found out that morning that the girls were supposed to start school THIS week, not the next like we thought (which meant we had school supplies to buy, paperwork to complete, etc.). The timing wasn't ideal (it never really is with babies). Given my history with long overdue babies, and bigger babies, and being induced every time, our doctor was concerned about what could happen if I went into labor with her cord wrapped around her neck. 

So of course we chose to do what would be best and safest for our baby. We scheduled the C-section for the next afternoon. I went outside and started panicking. I couldn't stop crying, for the sake of my baby's health, of course, and I couldn't stop worrying about what we'd do with Ellie and Hazel. We didn't have much of a back-up plan, and a C-section meant at least 2-3 nights at the hospital. 

Fortunately, we've been blessed with awesome neighbors and co-workers who all pitched in. We knew the girls were happy and safe and well-taken care of, and they got to stick to their routine of starting their new school, which we decided was best for them. 

So, Monday night we spent time calling family, writing out instructions for the girls, and getting details ironed out, like, finally choosing her name! On Tuesday morning we ran a few errands, finalized details at the girls' new school, and headed to the hospital. It was surreal to know that within a few hours, our baby would be here.

Me at 39 weeks, a few hours before we went to the hospital.

We checked in and got settled into our room. We realized it would be an interesting experience doing everything in Spanish. They wanted to know my height, in centimeters, and it took several of us and a calculator and conversion chart to finally calculate my height. Silly Americans not using centimeters. When it was time for me to head into the surgery room alone, it hit me what was about to happen. I laid there on the surgery bed, back exposed, waiting for the epidural, and I found myself cold and a little scared. It was hard to be dealing with everything in Spanish. I felt out of control, laying there, knowing there was nothing I could do but wait and hope and pray our little baby would come out safe. Our awesome anesthesiologist spoke English and loved using it with me. He talked me through everything and helped me feel included in the process. 

Being coached by the anesthesiologist. 

Her arrival. 4:00 PM.

My favorite moment was right after Ruby was born, when Michael put Ruby up next to my face. I was still strapped down, but our cheeks were touching. She was crying, and when I started talking to her, she stopped, turned her head towards me, and listened to my voice. We have a sweet video of this that I will always treasure. 

Ruby Mayana Chapman

born at 4:00PM on Tuesday, January 13, 2015 in Guatemala City, Guatemala. 8 lbs 1 oz. 

Ruby is a name we've always liked, and considered using it for Hazel.

For her middle name, we wanted a name that was a form of Marie or Maria or Mary, because she has a grandma Mary, a great-grandma Mary, and another great-grandma Marie, plus several other family members with a similar name. 

Mayana, at its roots comes from the name Mary, so it was a perfect pick.

My mom's middle name is Anita, a form of Ana. 

We also wanted a Guatemalan, Mayan, or Spanish connection, and Mayana contains "Mayan," an important cultural part of Guatemala and people we work with here.

I had been searching online for names and found this name a few days before she was born, despite our family thinking we had had a name picked out all along. 

Moments after birth.

Getting acquainted.

Tiny.

After her first bath.

When we had toured the hospital a few weeks earlier, we had been told that the hospital policy is that the baby can only be held by us and the nurses, and that if we ever have visitors the baby couldn't even be in the room with us. They also said that the baby would stay in the nursery all night long except if we wanted her for nursing. I had been upset at the time, because I wanted my girls and family to be able to meet Ruby at the hospital. Well, we're not sure how it happened, but this rule didn't seem to get enforced while we were there, which meant our girls got to come to the hospital and meet and hold Ruby. It was a special time, and I missed them so much I was happy I got to see my girls for a short time.

Some of my favorite pictures from their first meeting:

First family photo.

Big sister Hazel.

The three sisters. Pure Love.

Checking out little fingers.

Super proud oldest sister.

Hazel loves to kiss and hold her baby sister. Almost every picture I have of these two are of Hazel kissing Ruby.

Overall, we were proud of having had a baby in a Spanish-speaking hospital. It felt like we accomplished a big feat, especially for me, with my Spanish not being as strong as Michael's. There were only a few language misunderstandings, like when I accidentally said yes to getting sleeping pills instead of just pain pills.

It was interesting to be in a hospital where nursing a baby exclusively is not the norm, and is not understood, even by (or especially by) the nurses. We had to explain to them that we wanted her every few hours to feed her, even if it meant waking her up. A few times during the night we had to request that they bring her to us. The nurses just assumed we'd feed her whenever she woke up, which could be several hours. The norm here seemed to be to bottle feed during the night so the mother can rest, and maybe, if nursing at all, to nurse some during the day. They wheeled her out of the room every time she needed a diaper change, and wouldn't bring her back until we asked for her, which was frustrating, at times. 

Had this been my first baby, I may not have lasted more than a day or two with nursing. There was absolutely zero help or support in this area. Our experience in California was starkly different, with a lactation consultant on staff at the hospital, and our pediatrician taking specific time with us to make sure nursing was going well (and eventually clipping both Ellie and Hazel's tongues to aid with nursing). I think eventually the nurses gave up understanding us, and just mostly left us alone. They knew it was our third baby, or they may have been more pushy. 

It's been good to be home. We are adjusting to life with three. My mom has been here for over a week and it's been nice to have extra help. Ruby is sleeping and eating about every 3 hours at night. During her first week or so, only her Daddy could soothe her at night, unless she needed to be fed. She loves to be held, although fortunately she's getting more used to falling asleep without being held. 

One difference with the birth of our third is that because the girls go to school every morning, I'm actually able to rest and take some time for myself, something I could do after Ellie's birth, but was much more difficult with Hazel, as I was home full-time with both girls. 

As Ruby turned 2 weeks old yesterday, here are some highlights from her life so far:

So many snuggles lately.

Lots of photo opportunities. 

Ruby's first overnight outing was to Antigua. 

Michael got some funny looks with his bulky sweater.

Playing games and quality time with all three. 

Ruby couldn't have more proud sisters than these two.  

2 weeks old. Hazel is excited that Ruby can roll her tongue just like her and Mama.

Happy 2 weeks, Ruby Mayana!