And then there were three.

It turns out that everything they say is true. Labor really does suck. And it's LONG. Or mine was, anyway. Hospital gowns don't close in the back. There is an awful lot of blood. Breastfeeding is hard. Driving away from the hospital with an infant is terrifying. When you get them home, they don't sleep at night. And they go through an insane amount of diapers. When they cry and can't be soothed, it's the most powerless and awful feeling on the planet. Your best friend gives you perineal cream with a note that says "we never have to talk about this," and you will forever consider this the pinnacle of gift-giving. You worry about literally everything and are transfixed by the baby monitor. Postpartum hormones are no joke. Commercials for car insurance can actually make you cry. There are days you can't manage to take a shower or brush your teeth, and couldn't care less.

The first time you hear your baby cry, your heart stops and your life changes forever. There is no greater bonding experience between two people than holding hands and locking eyes and trying to block out the pain and the worry of labor. You fall in love with your husband all over again when you see him hold your daughter for the first time. And again when he won't let anyone else change her diaper. And again when he snuggles with her in bed in the morning so you can try and get that shower. And again when you hear him singing "Danny Boy" to her from the kitchen, and see tears in his eyes as he watches her sleep. You look at her perfect little face and marvel that you somehow made this miracle. You vow every day to be better, to deserve her. You want to thank your own Mom 100 times a day, and ask her how she did it. There is a "Mom club" you didn't even know about, and it is amazing. But nowhere near as amazing as the feeling of being a family now, instead of "just" a couple.

So the last ten days have been a crazy whirlwind of dizzying heights and painful lows and new discoveries and changes, big and small. 

My water broke at 6:30pm last Tuesday, the day after my due date. 22.5 hours later, at 4:56pm on the 5th of November, Finley Savanna was born, finally hauled out with the help of forceps. Her tiny cry upon being eventually dislodged was the best sound we had ever heard. She emerged looking like a prizefighter, thanks to the forceps and her rough journey into the world (having been stuck under my pelvic bone for most of the previous day and night). The hospital time was a blur. She couldn't nurse at first thanks to a busted lip, so we spent a rough couple days over that (while Seth fed her pumped milk with a syringe and his pinkie), eventually hiring a lactation consultant and taking her back to the hospital for a frenotomy. She barely cried for the procedure, or for her first shots. Her daddy couldn't be more proud of his tough little girl.

We're gradually getting into a routine at home, although she threw us for a loop today with her first growth spurt. She's a voracious eater and a good sleeper. I'm starting to be able to walk again (having required a billion stitches), and we take family walks around the yard and watch her little eyes dart around as she takes in the world. We, of course, think she's a prodigy. (And she's definitely, exceptionally strong.) She's already mastered FaceTime, is wild about her Dad, seems to be partial to Joe Walsh guitar solos, and doesn't hate a good diaper change. Seth is already back in school (writing papers during major life events is becoming a family tradition) but never skips out on diaper changes, does the grocery shopping, brings home flowers, and never mentions the fact that Finley and I perpetually smell like spilled milk and rarely bother to put on shirts.

The very best time of the day is morning family snuggle time. 

We've slowed down a little bit, but we're enjoying every second of this time at home with our little miracle.

And we did manage to get the Christmas tree up today... Walters family tradition mandates this about a month before everyone else. We're only a little behind. Not bad, all things considering.

Babywatch 2014.

Well, November 3^rd (the big d-day) has almost come and gone. Baby Nieman continues to show no signs of dislodging from her comfortable (for her) position, and the obnoxious baby apps have switched from alarmist (“Do you have varicose veins? Bad skin? Hemorrhoids? Fat ankles? No sex? Gas? Nothing to wear? The constant urge to pee?”) to patronizing (“Still no baby? Your time will come!”)

It’s Monday, so I did the only thing that made sense. I got up, went for a swim, had breakfast with Mom, and went to work. Seth and I have settled into the thought that “this baby will come when she’s ready,” which is kind of nice. Viewed through those particular rose-colored glasses, every diaper-free day following a decent night’s sleep is a gift.

Not that we’re not excited for her to join us. It’s just that we’re not wishing away this time, either.

So we had another quiet weekend at home. November weather had finally arrived (although around here, it’s probably not here to stay), and Saturday we hung out in bed all morning and watched the gusts of wind blow new piles of leaves into our previously cleaned-up yard. We watched Army’s devastating loss to Air Force on the couch, and then went for a bike ride.

Oh, and I cooked. Vats and vats of soup and other freezable stuff. I must be in “nesting” mode, and since the nursery is basically ready and I’m always kind of a fanatic about the cleanliness of the house, it’s manifested itself in my sudden doomsday prepping where food is concerned. I think Seth is getting offended (the implication being that we will literally starve to death if I don’t cook every night), but he’s been pretty indulgent about my insistence that we peel ten pounds of potatoes and roast a farm’s worth of broccoli and butternut squash. Luckily, my favorite thing on the planet is this soup, because we’re going to be eating it for months.

Sunday I had a Kennedy Center date with Michelle and Grace, who was on her best behavior for her first “big girl show,” the world premiere of highly acclaimed musical The Little Dancer. We had a terrific time, and it was an incredible production.

Seth took Ashton and his son Gabe to try out the new fishing rod Seth got Gabe for his birthday. And then dragged me up to Damascus for a farewell barbecue for the Causeys.

Oh. I almost forgot. We also survived Halloween. With almost no trick or treaters and having just survived a seriously long week (Seth, especially, had been pulling late nights cramming for a big midterm), we lit our pumpkins, ate a few of the chocolate covered pretzels we had stocked up on for the occasion, and passed out on the couch. (The one on the left has to be the photo of the week. Are we ready to be tired new parents or what?)

Soaking up Fall

We both love fall, and I think we were both a little worried that we wouldn't get to enjoy it to the fullest this year. This past week, with no sign of Baby Nieman's imminent arrival to interrupt us, we've been doing our best to soak up the season. Seth, who even sent me the awesome flowers arranged in a pumpkin at right, has allegedly figured out how to study with football on "in the background" (how, incidentally, did Monday Night Football turn into Thursday- Monday nonstop football?!), and I've been cramming pureed pumpkin into virtually everything we eat. It's possible that I may even become tired of my favorite pumpkin bread, although that hasn't happened yet. 

I've been working nutty hours, trying to clear off my desk before my six weeks "off" after baby, so Friday afternoon Michelle convinced me to play hooky. It was amazing. We wandered around Old Town and soaked up the fall colors and the crunch of fallen leaves under our feet, got pedicures, went shopping (for once, purchasing nothing for the baby!), and ate french fries oat an outside table in gorgeous weather. To top it all off, I left early enough to avoid the  end-of-week traffic madness and made it home before 7:30- a real rarity on a Friday here.

Because we had had no idea how to plan for the promptness of babies (or lack thereof), we wound up with a weekend blissfully devoid of plans, and we spent it sleeping in, working around the house, swimming lazy laps at the pool, and admiring the fall foliage from the bike path along the C&O Canal. Five days a week I absolutely despise living in the greater-DC traffic black hole, but on warm fall weekends it's hard to complain about living somewhere that (literally busloads of) people vacation. We also trekked back to Homestead Farm for pumpkin and apple picking, and marveled at the fact that it's only been two years since Seth first met my parents there after a rainy hike on a September weekend right before he deployed. Crazy how time flies (and how lucky I still feel to have him along to get the hard-to-reach apples.)

This week it's back to the grind, as Seth has midterms to study for and I'm planning on working until it's time to head for the hospital. We're making downtime where we can, as we imagine it'll be in short supply pretty soon here.

A couple of favorites from the week:

Seth making dessert. ("Seth, this mousse isn't set." "Uh, that's probably because I added some extra milk. You know, because it got really thick after I put in all the peanut butter." "All the wh--?! Never mind." [I know not to look a gift horse in the mouth. And it was pretty tasty.])

Our beautiful backyard in the fall, after Seth mowed and mulched and I scooped out our pumpkins. (We're carving them tonight, so more to follow on the jack o'lantern front.)

A small portion of our giant German feast last night. We finally made it to the Bierhaus we discovered at the Taste of Bethesda festival, and got to catch up with Flip and Jess Klein (not to mention OD on frites) to boot!

And this might've been my favorite. I finally got that pregnancy footrub I've been reading about... but of course in our house it came with a side of animated Monday Night Football conversation.I had the gall to wonder aloud if Brett Favre had played for the Vikings. The picture at bottom right doesn't even begin to do the poor man's facial expression justice.

And finally, the real photo of the week, which we cannot stop laughing about. Lehua, on what Sara calls "Mom- Daughter Day."

"Pretty much ready."

We're down to two weeks (ish) until the arrival of Baby Nieman. People ask us if we're ready all the time. At the risk of sounding like ill-prepared (or nonchalant) parents-to-be, our answer is: pretty much. Car seats installed? Check. Baby monitor and breast pumps and last "assemble from pieces" must-have item put together and working? Check, check, and check. We've even thought to schedule as many "sleep in" days as humanly possible before the arrival of The Noisy One.

We spent last week checking off the last few things. We figured out the insert in the ergobaby (no easy task, as you can tell by Seth's face).

We (by whom I mean, "Seth") finally got the wall art project done (nursery-appropriate woodland creatures, which was a major compromise). He did indeed use shotgun shells for stencil weights. I love that guy.

So the nursery is basically ready for business. And baby laundry done and folded. This is likely the last time we'll ever be able to say that, and we know it.

We also toured the labor and delivery ward at Walter Reed (and were pleased- if a little disconcerted- to discover big, private rooms that make the shoebox of a room poor Seth had to recover in pale in comparison).

And we managed brunch in Baltimore with friends. (I may or may not have glared at Seth for hours while he downed pitcher after pitcher of sangria. A nice, well-deserved break, yes, for the Dad-to-be. And reminder for Mom-to-be that her turn is coming soon.)

Seth had what may have been his last pre-baby hunting trip, and- in a stroke of phenomenal good fortune and impeccable timing- got that Sika stag he's been chasing all season.

And I had my last solo (mis)adventure for awhile. Which involved a vandalized tire in a bad part of town,

an insurance company fail of a tow job that resulted in my car very nearly being taken to this place,

and the eventual report that my car had been "lost, or possibly stolen" followed by hours on the phone and its eventual location, followed by days of attempting to get the tire repaired (and, currently, a rented Hyundai of some sort.)

And this baby is finally obtrusive enough that I can't really run to relieve stress (or, in the case of this weekend, to flee sketchy parts of town!) So we've decided that, all things considered, we're "pretty much ready" for Baby Nieman's arrival (and perhaps even for the temporary settling-down that event will require.)

Especially if she's this cute (photo of the week: the adorable Lehua feeding an elephant statue.)

Another Year, Another ATM

I think I caption the blog this way every year on ATM week. I know I do it mentally. It's because the Army Ten Miler is such a reliable yardstick of the passage of time, and the stations of my life. I've been there in blazing hot weather and freezing cold; through relationship ups and downs; as a young lieutenant, a law student, a new JAG, and a tired field grade. I've flown in from overseas, ridden a packed van up from Fort Bragg, and rolled out of bed and jumped on the metro to get to the start line. I've raced, captained, and coached teams, and once had to ride alongside the route on my bike after an injury. The few times I haven't been made it to ATM weekend over the years have been when I was deployed.

And here I was this year, not running but with a clipboard balanced precariously on my burgeoning belly and my arms full of other people's warm-up gear. It is the Army Ten Miler, after all, and the competitors themselves reign supreme. It's incredibly hard for me not to run it (as much as I hate actually doing so), but at least I had my hands- literally- full.

Seth walked it this year, having handcycled last year, and I am beyond proud of him. Seeing him cross the finish line on foot was yet another milestone.

The Army Ten Miler is an exhausting event, and this year was no exception. Of course the Belvoir team had uniform issues with the screenprinter at the last minute, and I spent most of the week prior handling those, picking up race packets, and generally herding cats to get everybody where they needed to be, on time and in the (generally) right uniform. Add to that all of the "annual reunion" aspects that accompany 35,000 Army-affiliated runners in town for the weekend, and the super early morning and "on your feet" nature of the event itself, and we spent pretty much the rest of the weekend like this:

Seth had his first midterm Monday (UMD apparently not being so hot on Columbus Day) so he spent the day at school, and I got in another lovely, rainy day of yoga, shopping, and catching up with friends in Old Town. It was a nice break from clearing off my desk during a crazy week at work and a distraction from the general discomfort of being 37 weeks (!!) pregnant. Not to mention, I had nutella crepes for lunch, which just feels decadent.

Speaking of food, we also took a break from napping on the couch to enjoy the annual "Taste of Bethesda," for which downtown becomes a pedestrian zone stuffed full of food tents manned by local restaurants. And "stuffed" is the right word for it. I sampled Malaysian and Indian delicacies, and Seth graciously handled the sliders and brats. Between the two of us, we're a pretty good food critic team.

Two photos of the week: the first one is of Natalie, the cutest little Mizzou fan ever. We can't believe how big the soon-to-be big sister has gotten!

And this might be my favorite one of all time, from our Barnes and Noble date to pick out books for Baby Nieman's library. 

Fall, Fishing, and One Month to Go!

It's easy to hate my job in October. Right when the weather gets cool and the leaves change colors and my favorite season kicks off in earnest, the appeals courts come back to work after their long summer terms off and start specifying issues and granting arguments and generally requiring work days that end long after the sun goes down. (A big thanks also to daylight savings time, one of my least favorite things.) To make matters worse, it's election season so all of the legislators down the street seeking reelection become suddenly interested in "the military" which lately means "the sexual assault epidemic" which translates to their offices demanding information holycowrightnow so that they can dosomethingquicktogetmilitarysupportingpatriotvotes and get reelected.

Plus I swear when the holidays approach the natives (meaning prison inmates, meaning our clients) get restless and all decide they have issues desperately demanding the courts' attention immediately.

And all I want to do is enjoy my annual pumpkin spice latte and jump in piles of newly-raked leaves and pick apples.

Luckily, I also work for a boss who also despises spending early fall in the office and enjoys playing a bit of hooky occasionally, so after a long week navigating Congressional inquiries and prepping complex arguments and dealing with whiny clients, Friday we went fishing. The whole office. On a boat, in the Chesapeake Bay. Seth agreed to come (now how much arm-twisting do you think that took?) and we made a weekend of it. We landed a few rockfish and Seth got to drink some beer, and we spent the rest of the weekend sleeping in at my favorite resort, ordering room service, lounging around in a bathrobe (me), Sika deer hunting amid chiggers and all kinds of other vermin (Seth), and kayaking in the Blackwater Wildlife Refuge. It turned out to be an incredibly relaxing and much-needed mini-vacation.

I came home to this (the result of our "last few things" baby order from amazon), having left Seth in a treestand on the Eastern Shore, and was profoundly grateful that- as nice as our getaway was- we had decided to come home in time for a "life maintenance" day at home. We had a lovely, lazy Sunday of yardwork and house-cleaning and putting together baby accessories in front of football games.

Afterwards we popped down to Belvoir for dinner with my parents, something we hadn't done in awhile (and always wonder why we don't do more often.) We stuffed ourselves with BBQ and Mom's pizza and this truly spectacular apple pie, and Seth and Dad busted out the whiskey and yelled at ESPN. I was only a little jealous. What better way to celebrate fall?

 

As for Babywatch 2014, yesterday I hit 36 weeks, and it's starting to look like we're in the homestretch! Which is terrific because- probably as nature intended it- I'm starting to get uncomfortable and unwieldy, and we're starting to feel like it's time. I'm busy clearing my desk off and Seth's squeezing in a few more hunting days, and the last-month countdown is on. 

The photo of the week is, of course, Seth practicing remarkable restraint by not throwing the entire baby swing out the window.