Tag Archives: Charlotte

Charlotte’s Frozen Birthday Party


When our Frozen-obsessed daughter asked for a Frozen party for her third birthday, I was a smidge disappointed. I love going DIY for the kids’ birthday parties and I felt like if we did a canned birthday like Frozen, it would be a little well, boring for me. But in this Pinterest age, I should’ve known that I’d be able to find cute crafty-type things to make it seem a little more homemade.

And I will say that it is pretty sweet to head to Target three days before the party and buy all the plates, tablecloths and even paper crowns in one simple trip. Now I see why people do these type of parties.

We held the party for family in our backyard. My husband had just finished building a ginormous 400 square foot deck, so the party doubled as a deck-breaking-in party as well.


The birthday girl had one request – an Elsa dress WITH A CAPE. Thankfully I found this one with a sheer cape velcroed to the back. Since the party, she has been trying to get that cape to stick to just about every shirt she has. Life is better with a cape, obvi.

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We got Pinterest-y with the food. See above for the “Do you Want to Build a Snowman?” station, white chocolate covered strawberries for Frozen Hearts, blue candy melt marshmallows as Elsa’s Icicles and Blue Hawaiian punch with pineapple juice and white soda which became Anna’s Frozen Punch. The rest of the menu included cold cuts for a sandwich bar, fruit and a bunch of salads.

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The punch was a hit.


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But I would say the biggest hit of all were these water balloons. I had seen the “Watch Out for my Butt” sign on Pinterest, and my graphic designer husband Photoshopped it to look like big bro Riley had turned into Olaf. Also, apparently it’s nearly impossible to find actual white waterballoons. So I just bought regular white balloons and figured we’d be fine. Well, you can probably see where this is going. They were virtually impossible to break. Slamming them on the concrete patio, squeezing them with all our might, nothing worked. HIlarity ensued. The finale was my 89-year old grandpa finally getting one to break, right over my head, while I cowered in fear. From my 89-year old grandpa with a water balloon. Good times.

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I was kind of disappointed with how my two-tired Blue Velvet cake turned out. I wrapped it in Frozen ribbon and put Anna and Elsa on top, along with blue sanding sugar, but I just thought it looked a little meh. But when Charlotte saw her cake, she gasped and squealed and asked if it was for her. The birthday girl loved it? Sold. Perfect. Donesies.


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Scariest Moment Ever

In the blink of an eye, everything can change. People know this. Parents especially know this. Now, especially know this.

Last weekend, we attended the wedding of my cousin out of town. It was the kids’ first night in a hotel. The hotel had a waterpark. Needless to say, everyone was excited and in a good mood.

The wedding itself was awesome. Very fun. Both kids tore it up on the dance floor, which was so cute I couldn’t even stand it.

Nothing cuter than little kids on the dance floor, am I right?

Nothing cuter than little kids on the dance floor, am I right?

The kids stayed up until 9:00, in great moods. Then happily slept through the night. While I tossed and turned in the Lumpiest Hotel Bed Ever. I woke up and was not a happy camper, though I was relieved both kids actually slept with all four of us in the same room.

We decided to head to the water park in the hotel that morning before check out. Derek ran down to the lobby to grab us some breakfast and then made a pot of coffee in the room. I poured myself a cup while Riley ate a bagel and watched cartoons. Charlotte was content to walk around the hotel room.

Riley asked for his water bottle, so I set my coffee down on the nightstand, pushed it back farther because I was conscious of the fact that our 1-year old was walking around the room, took 3 steps to the cooler, and heard Charlotte scream.

She had somehow grabbed my full coffee cup and spilled it down the front of her.

Within 10 seconds, I had her under the faucet in the tub, letting the cold water drench her chest and shoulder, which immediately turned red as she screamed. Derek grabbed her to take off the soaked onesie while I ran across the hall to get my parents. The saving grace was that our entire family was here.

My dad, a retired cop, sprang into action, wetting towels with cold water and draping them over her tiny body while I held her and she wailed. I think the scariest thing for me was that she woudn’t stop crying. She’s the type of baby that even if she’s hurt, if I pick her up, she’s comforted and she quiets down. The fact that I couldn’t comfort her terrified me.

My mom suggested calling the nurse’s hotline from our insurance company, so Derek did. They recommended we take her to the ER. I was shocked. I honestly didn’t think it was that bad. I just couldn’t believe this was happening.

So off we zipped to the nearest ER, 35 minutes away. With my husband’s driving, we made it in 25. Charlotte actually slept in the car, which was such a relief.

When we got to the ER, we told the receptionists why we were there and they peered into her car seat carrier, to see a smiling baby. She was smiling. Giggling. I couldn’t believe it.

As I filled out paper work, a nurse came in, looked under the wet towels at Charlotte’s skin and immediately took her back into the ER. That scared me.

When I finished with the paper work, they led me to her room. They had her out of her car seat and had taken the towels off of her. When I saw her red, blistered, burned skin, I thought I could faint. Instead I immediately started crying. I couldn’t believe how bad it was. I felt the worst I’ve ever felt in my life. How did I let this happen to her? To our tiny, 1-year old baby?

Long story short, several doctors examined her. Several burn doctors examined her. They ultimately just washed the wounds, bandaged her up and sent us home. But here’s the amazing thing – this kid is a trooper. The toughest baby I’ve ever met. She was walking around her ER room, giggling. She was smiling and flirting with the doctors. She was her normal, sweet self. And she had 1st and 2nd degree burns. Unbelievable.

I was so worried that she was in pain and would be up all night crying. But she napped on the way home. She slept all through the night. Amazing.

The next day we took her to the pediatrician to get her bandages changed.

My poor baby.

My poor baby.

Yes I have photos of her burns. No, I will not post them here. You don’t want to see them. And I don’t want to look at them.

Our sweet girl is going to make a full, quick recovery, according to the doctor. Anyone reading this, remember this story. When you think you are being careful with something that can really hurt a curious toddler, be even more careful. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. You may think you’re going to a hotel waterpark, and find yourself in the emergency room in your pajamas. True story.


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Ode to Dr. Ferber

I will tell anyone who will listen that Charlotte is my easy baby. Super sweet, easy going, happy little cherub. However, she is particular about one thing. Sleep. For the vast majority of her life, she had been sleeping next to our bed in the Fisher Price Rock N Play.

bedThe thing is great, but once the baby can roll over or sit up, it’s high time they sleep in their crib. The problem? Little miss Charlotte did not want to sleep in her crib. Then it got to the point that she did not want to sleep in the Rock N Play either. Or the Pack and Play in our room. She just didn’t want to sleep anywhere. Then suddenly it was 3 a.m. on a Thursday morning and she had only slept in 30 minute increments all night long. And her poor daddy hadn’t slept at all. Something had to change.

I knew the “Cry-it-out” method was not for us. I couldn’t justify letting a barely six month old baby scream her head off in her crib until she passed out from exhaustion on her tear-stained crib sheet.

Night after night, I’d follow the same bedtime routine and put her down in her crib where she’d drift off to sleep for a total of 30 peaceful minutes. After that, our night would begin. She’d cry and I’d pick her up where she would immediately drift off to sleep in my arms. I’d put her down in the crib and her eyes would fly open immediately and she’d wail. I’d pick her up and she’d quickly drift off again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Any parent can remember those dark, long nights when babies won’t sleep. It is universal and not pleasant. Especially when you have to work the next day. Not cool, babies. Not cool.

So finally, we broke. It had to end. We all had to sleep.

Unbeknownst to me, Derek picked up his iPhone on a Saturday night and searched “Cry-it-out.” He explained that we need to lay her in her crib, tell her goodnight, pat and shush her for one minute and then leave the room – even if she’s crying. Then we’ll wait 3 minutes and if she’s crying, we’ll go in again and pat and shush her for a minute and leave the room again. Then we’ll wait 5 minutes and if she’s crying, we’ll go in again. I asked him which technique this was and he said Ferber. Ok, I thought. I’ve heard of that.

He seemed confident and I was pretty close to my wit’s end, so I figured it was worth a shot. It wasn’t ideal, but we knew we had to act, so at 10:30 on a Saturday night, we began the process.

We put her in her crib and then we climbed into our bed and waited. The crying began. She sounded tired. Derek went in and comforted her after 3 minutes. He didn’t pick her up, but he patted her and talked to her in a soothing tone. She quieted and he left the room. As soon as he was back in our room, she was crying again. In the next 30 minutes, he went in to comfort her 6 times. We never let her go longer than 5 minutes.

But it. Was. Horrible.

She was no where near hysterical, but Little Miss was displeased and wanted us to know it. I begged Derek to let me go in. I whimpered into my pillow. In the darkness of our bedroom, I think I saw Derek roll his eyes at me.

And then at 11:00 …silence. She was asleep. A half hour? That was it? It’s over? The article Derek read said the first night would be the worst and she should get the hang of it by the third night.

So Derek and I happily drifted off to sleep. For one hour.

At midnight, Charlotte woke up again and she was MAD. It was my turn, so I went in and patted and shushed her, but it didn’t really help. I went in every 3-5 minutes for the next HOUR. It was rough, but by 1 a.m., she was asleep again and then slept soundly until 5 a.m.

I’m happy to say that yes, that first night was the worst.

These nights, she regularly sleeps in her crib from 8:30 p.m. until 4 or 5 or WOOHOO 6 a.m. She wakes up and I feed her and then she goes back to sleep until 7 or 8. When she wakes up, she happily talks in her crib until we come into her room, where she greets us with a drooly smile.

It works. I can’t believe it works.

So the other day when I got our regular Babycenter.com email, imagine my surprise when I read the headline that mentioned “Cry-it-out” and the article mentioned the Ferber method.

Wait? We did Cry-it-out with our 6 month old baby? No! That’s mean! The poor babies just wail all alone in the dark for hours on end. I would never do that to my baby.

Except that’s not what this is. Charlotte felt safe and secure in her crib. She has learned to drift to sleep on her own, something that took Riley forever and a day to learn. So I guess Cry-it-out isn’t mean if it’s done properly. And for our little baby, it works.

And I would like to end this post with one big giant, KNOCK ON WOOD!


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Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to jinx it, but our little Charlotte has been sleeping in her crib for the last four nights.

Since the day she was born, she’s been sleeping next to our bed in this:

It’s the Fisher Price Rock n’ Play Sleeper.

It worked great. I could give her a gentle rock or put her pacifier back in her mouth WITHOUT EVEN GETTING OUT OF BED. Hello, awesome! At her four month check up, the pediatrician said since Charlotte can now roll over, she better sleep in her crib or in a Pack and Play just in case she figures out how to sit up or roll out of the Rock n’ Play. I meant to get started on transitioning her in to her crib a month ago and for some reason, I never did.

It may be because she’s my last baby and I like looking over at her in the middle of the night and seeing her snoozing away. Or maybe it’s because she STILL isn’t technically sleeping through the night and it’s easier to pick her up and feed her in our bed rather than walking alllllll the way down the hall to her room to feed her in the wee hours of the morning. Mostly though, I think it’s because I belong to the mentality if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Charlotte sleeping in our room had been working, so why stop?

Here’s why. I decided to look online to find out the weight capacity for the Rock ‘n Play. It’s like 25 pounds or something, so obviously, we’re good for a looooong time. But then I made the mistake of reading some of the reviews on Amazon.com. Scary!

Almost every single review mentioned that the Rock ‘n Play causes babies to develop a flat head, some said their babies got torticollis, some needed physical therapy and some even needed to wear special helmets to help their heads develop.

Now, realistically, I don’t think that just one thing you do could potentially cause all these problems for your baby, but so many people posted comments about this that I couldn’t ignore it. And honestly, Charlotte DOES have a flat spot on her head. I thought it was because maybe we weren’t doing enough tummy time and we probably did more with Riley because he never had a flat head. Though, maybe the Rock ‘n Play has something to do with it. Who knows.

Either way, the girl had to get into her crib.

And KNOCK ON ALL THE WOOD AND ALL THE THINGS, it hasn’t been very bad. I put her in her crib around 10 and she usually fusses for a bit. Sometimes we need to go in and pop her pacifier back in her mouth. But then she usually sleeps til about 2:30, when again, we have to go in and pop her pacifier back in her mouth. Then she’s been waking up between 4 and 4:30 wanting to eat. I bring her in our bed, feed her, and then place her in the Rock ‘n Play where she sleeps for about 2 hours before she’s up and wanting to eat again, then is ready for her day.

No, it’s not absolutely perfect, but it’s been working this week. So this whole week, Derek and I have gone to bed in our room alone. For the first time in months. And when the dog got a horrible case of flatulence earlier this week, we left her sleeping out in the living room rather than killing us with her farts while she slept in our room. It was really nice actually sleeping just the two of us in one room. It’s the little things that make me happy, obviously.

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Charlotte’s Baptism

Last weekend, we had Charlotte’s baptism. It was a special day where our entire family came together to celebrate our little girl. Following my family’s tradition, Charlotte wore the baptismal gown that my grandma made for my mom 57 years ago. It’s the dress my mom wore, I wore, Riley wore and all of my cousins wore. And she rocked it, of course.

She is also wearing a bonnet that my great-grandma made forever ago. I love family heirlooms.

While we certainly are not regular church-goers, and we definitely don’t agree with everything the Catholic church believes these days, it was important for us to get Charlotte baptized, the same way we were. Honestly, it gives me comfort to hear that there is a higher power looking over her.

And when the priest blessed us parents and asked God to help us, well, I felt grateful. Parenting is freaking hard and I will take all the help I can get.

And I’ve got to give a shout out to our two kids – the two best behaved kids in church. Riley was an angel. He sat still, he whispered, he didn’t whine or ask to leave. And Charlotte napped, she smiled, she cooed. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning.




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I Slept 4 Hours – Straight!

Monumental. Seriously. I feel like a new person.

My mom still tells stories about what a great baby I was. Three hour naps. No crying. Content. Smiley.

I remember when I was pregnant with Riley thinking, “Hey, I should get a good, happy baby. Karma, right?” Wrong. Riley can be described as a difficult baby. He wasn’t colicky or Exorcist-like, but still. He was difficult. He didn’t sleep from age 6 months to 11 months. Seriously. Didn’t sleep at all. And now that I think about it, he didn’t sleep much when he was a newborn, either. I remember freaking out one day and calling the doctor because my weeks-old baby did not take a nap until FOUR O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON. I remember saying, “I thought babies slept a lot! WTF?”

But (and I say this while knocking on all the wood in the world) I think I may have my easy baby. I know she’s not even 3 weeks old yet. But I can already tell there’s a noticeable difference between her and Riley. Yes, she cries when she wants to be held and the hours from 7-9 p.m. every night are her crabby times and she likes to cry during these times. But I remember when Riley was 3 weeks old and crying inconsolably all the time, thinking OH GOD, HE HAS COLIC! (He didn’t. He just wasn’t gaining enough weight and we had to start supplementing with formula).

But Charlotte eats like a champ. In fact, sometimes she can’t even last 2 hours without eating, the poor hungry girl. But get this. Even in the middle of the night, she doesn’t even cry! For real! She’ll squak enough just to wake me up and that’s it. It’s as if she’s politely saying, “Excuse me, Mommy. I know you’re tired, but if you wouldn’t mind, I’d just like to eat a little bit. I’m a smidge hungry.” Happily, I oblige. Especially when I’ve just been asleep for FOUR FREAKING HOURS STRAIGHT.

Three cheers for this little girl!

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Charlotte’s Birth Story

How do I begin? Hmmmm…… I guess I’ll start at the beginning. Well, first let me say that I was hopeful that this delivery would go fast and that I would be able to get through it without an epidural. I just felt like it was something I wanted to do because I feel like it’s better for the baby and more than anything, I knew I wanted to avoid a C-section at all costs. I felt like if my labor was short, I could stand the pain for a short amount of time and make it through naturally. Careful what you wish for.

I felt my first contraction at 9:14 a.m. on Sunday, July 8. I was sitting on the couch watching Nick Jr. with Riley and I remember being like, “Ouch! What was that?” I guess it really is true that your mind blocks out the pain of contractions once you have your first child. I really didn’t think it was a contraction.

Throughout the day, I would sporadically feel them, but still didn’t think they were the real thing. Derek worked in the basement, which we’ve been trying to finish for months. Riley and I played outside in the heat. He rode his bike in the driveway while I sat on a lawn chair eating Greek yogurt.

Around 1:00 we all ate lunch and I felt my first painful contraction. To the point that I yelled to Derek in the basement and when he didn’t hear me, Riley went over to the clothes chute and yelled down, “Daddy! Mommy’s in pain!” Needless to say, Derek rushed upstairs. Though I still didn’t really think they were real contractions. But we started timing them anyway.

By 2:30 when Riley was down for a nap, I was starting to see a pattern, feel them intensify and it started to sink in that I was probably in labor.

Thank the lord, Riley napped. Things got pretty intense quickly and it would have been awful to hide my discomfort from Riley. This boy does not miss a thing. And he asks questions constantly. Around 4:00, we called the hospital and the nurse said we should wait an hour for them to get closer together and then call back.

I remember her saying, “Why don’t you walk around, take a bath or even take a nap? It sounds like you’re in for a long night.” Great. Not exactly what I wanted to hear. And what do you know? That nurse was wrong. But we’ll get to that in a second.

By this time, we called my mom and asked her to come over to stay with Riley and thankfully, the little man was still sound asleep tucked into his big boy bed.

I decided to take a bath and try to relax. Around this time it started to sink in what was happening. I started crying and told Derek and I really didn’t want to do this. I believe I even asked him to do it for me. He reminded me that a few weeks ago, while inquiring how the baby would come out, Riley told me, “You can do it, Mommy. You’re strong.”

The contractions were now 4-5 minutes apart and getting really intense. I couldn’t walk or talk through them and every time one hit, I had to brace myself on the counter or wall, close my eyes and breathe deeply.

Thankfully, by this time, my mom had shown up. I knew I couldn’t just leave without saying bye to Riley. So Derek and I went in and woke him up and explained what was happening. He was excited for what we were telling him and he was also excited that Grandma was over to play with him. We left him cuddling with Grandma and headed to the hospital. The drive was a blur. I have no idea if we talked or listened to music or what. It was just pain and breathing.

Finally, we arrived around 6 p.m., Derek parked the car and we went up to the second floor – labor and delivery. I got into a triage room and was checked to see how far dilated I was. I did not like the answer – 3 centimeters. Seriously? I was 2 cm at my doctor’s appointment on Thursday.

We were told to walk the halls for an hour and come back to see what progress I made. Derek and I were able to talk as we wandered the halls. I even joked that I felt like Bella in Twilight because I thought this baby was just clawing his/her way out into the world. That’s how it felt. He of course did not get my reference to such a horrible movie.

Anyway, after a while, Derek remarked how fast my contractions were coming. We’d get maybe 2-3 feet down the hall before I had to stop walking, grab onto the wooden railings in the hallway, close my eyes and breathe. Finally, an hour had passed and we headed back to the triage room to get checked. Better news this time – I was between 4 and 5 cm. Woohoo!

At this time, I asked the nurse if we could go to room 2007. While we were walking, Derek and I figured out that that was the room where Riley was born. The room was available and we got it. We walked in and it was just awesome to know that this baby would be born in the same room that our first born entered the world in.

At this point, things get pretty blurry in my mind. I remember the nurse asking me if I still wanted to try to do this without an epidural. I told her I thought so. She had to start an IV and get me some antibiotics since I had tested positive for Group B Strep while I was pregnant.

The IV and antibiotics were started and Derek was holding my hand. I remember thinking that he should call his parents to let them know, but the contractions were coming so fast, he didn’t get a chance to step away from my squeezing hand.

By 8:30 the contractions were soooo painful. As in, it was getting hard to focus on anything but how badly they hurt. They were also coming so fast that I felt like I didn’t have time to recover from one before another one started.

“I think I need the epidural,” I said to my nurse. She rolled in the anesthesiologist’s cart o’ drugs and paged the doctor. My nurse said I needed to finish this bag of fluids before they could give me the epidural.

“But I think you’re going to go fast,” she said, looking at the monitors. “I think you might just rocket this baby right out.”

Um, what?

She checked me again and said I was definitely at 5 cm. I was surprised I wasn’t farther along given the crazy contractions. I was at 6 cm when I got the epidural with Riley. Was I really wimping out earlier this time than the last time? I couldn’t believe it. But at the same time, I didn’t care, I knew I needed something to help.

In the meantime, she suggested I take a shot of a muscle relaxer. I didn’t want to, but Derek said I should. He later told me that my eyes were darting all over the room and I looked really freaked out.

“I need some help,” I said, growing desperate.

“They’ll help you,” Derek said. “Get the muscle relaxer.” So I did.

And all I felt was high for about 2 seconds and then NOTHING. I felt exactly the same as I had before.

And then…..my water broke.

The monitors were on my belly, keeping track of the baby’s heartbeat and my contractions. Suddenly the room was filled with a really loud thump and I gasped and shrieked in pain. The baby had broke my water by doing some crazy karate chop and I felt it break and then felt the fluid gush.

“My water broke! Derek, call the nurse!” We were the only ones in the room and I knew this was it. Within a split second (seriously, a split second!) the entire game had changed.

Painful is not the word to describe it. It was an out of body experience. I was terrified, shocked and in disbelief. The contractions were like nothing I had felt earlier that day. They were excrutiating.

Right on cue, in sauntered the anesthesiologist. I was writhing in pain. And moaning.

The nurse checked me and I was at 8 cm. It was 8:45 p.m. I had progressed 3 cm in 15 minutes. I didn’t even know that was possible.

This is when even the medical professionals in the room -and there were many- got frantic. I remember the nurse telling me, “You’re not going to be able to have the epidural. You’re progressing too fast and there’s no way you can sit still long enough.”

“But I need something!” I pleaded.

“What do you want me to do?” the anesthesiologist asked the nurse.

“She’s going to have this baby,” the nurse told her. The anesthesiologist, and my option of a comfortable birth, walked out the door.

If I was scared before, I was absolutely petrified now. I’ve never felt more alone in my life. Yes, Derek was a great labor coach and was really helping me, but at that point it became abundantly clear that I was in this alone. No one could help me. No one could do this but me. I remember I kept trying to say, “I can’t believe this is happening.” But all I could get out was, “I can’t…” Every nurse in the room, along with Derek, shouted “Yes you can! You’re doing this! You’re awesome!”

And then. I felt the urge to push.

In every natural birth story I’ve read, they always write about this – the overwhelming need to push. And they’re not kidding. I just remember shrieking to the nurse, “I have to push! I’m pushing! I’m pushing!” She told me to go ahead. She also told me that my doctor was 20 minutes away.

Um, what?

Honestly though, I didn’t give two shits where my doctor was. I had to push. This baby was coming out. Derek tells me that I kept saying, “This isn’t happening” over and over. I do not remember this at all. He did tell me to just look at him and focus on him. And I did.

It was 9:00 p.m. and I was 10 cm.

I had gone from 5 cm to 10 cm in 30 minutes. Again, I didn’t know this was possible.

At this point, more people came into the room. Including a doctor who I think introduced himself to me. But I’m not entirely sure. Blinding pain will do that to you.

Cue the sitcom birth – I was screaming. Screaming! Me! It was completely involuntary. And to the point that the next day, my throat hurt. An out of body experience, for sure.

I pushed for a total of 16 minutes and in those minutes, I felt everything – the burning “ring of fire” that happens when the baby’s head is crowning. I remember one glorious nurse said, “Your baby has hair!” and it gave me the motivation that this was almost over. My nurse asked if I wanted to feel the head and I said no. I remember I got to feel Riley’s head when I was pushing him out. But by this time, I needed it to be over. Believe me, I could feel the head!

In the middle of this intense, frantic, fast moment, I know I had one coherent thought – that I wanted Derek to tell me if this baby was a boy or a girl. And I was able to put together a sentence in English long enough to tell Dr. Random that Derek had to tell me what we just had.

After the head was out, I knew it was just moments until I’d see our baby. And I heaved and pushed like my life depended on it, which if felt like it did at the time. And in one surge, I felt our baby be born.

“Is it a girl???” Derek said, shocked. “IT’S A GIRL!”

It was a true moment of disbelief, joy and relief. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt three emotions more deeply than those three at 9:21 p.m. on July 8, 2012.

Charlotte Jean was immediately placed on my chest, beautifully pink and crying softly. She was here. We both made it.

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