Family is everything.

In a way, I've been dreading writing in my blog lately.  At first it was because my previous post may have come across as negative, but really that was me basically giving myself a pep talk.  Weird but true. So that was the first reason,  but then so much had  happened since then, that I didn't even know how to start blogging again.  Mostly because I've been worried about things I am going to write in this post.  Of course I could always avoid it until later, and only talk about what it was like to travel with my children across the country, through the airport, our trip to the Outer Banks in North Carolina, the home we now live in, and all the new things about being here in Pennsylvania.  I could write about all of that, and I will, but not right now.  Right now I have to try to write into words, some deep feelings I'm not even sure I know how to express.  Feelings I know are necessary to express, but are hard to explain, or describe. Feelings of joy, sadness, inspiration, grief and faith.  Feelings of love. Specifically love for my family.
Also feelings of hate.  Hate for the disease called cancer.  I hate this disease with all my soul.
I watched my schoolmate in 5th grade suffer from it at just 10 years old.  I heard her mother and father explain that they didn't know what would happen to her and saw them both start to cry.  I saw her loose her hair and wear bandanna's to school.  It was the first time I had seen what cancer does to people on a personal level.  I remember how she didn't make it through the school year, and that they planted a tree in her name on the school grounds.  She was just a little girl.  I can't think of anything more unfair.
I watched my uncle suffer from it in Bolivia.  My mother and I flew out there for two months, to help him and his family as much as possible.  I saw him suffer, and he suffered without all the proper medication and medical care he needed, because he was in a third world country. We did everything we could to find medicine to ease the pain, but I sat in the room with him while he writhed and called out in agony, I watched my mother be brave to his face, and then when we would leave the room she would break down in tears over what we saw. I hugged her while she cried. It's still a hard memory for me. He passed away a few weeks after we came back to the states.
I've seen it affect friends, coworkers, bishops teachers and neighbors. People I care about, people I've worked with, served with, and laughed with.   I've seen three, three of my close friends from high school loose their mothers from it.
Two weeks ago, I saw my father in law pass away from it.  I hate. Hate cancer.
The thing is, this post isn't going to dwell on those feelings.  I don't want to be negative, and I don't want to be depressing, or sad, and I don't want my heart to be poisoned by those feelings.  I want to talk about what matters the most, the feelings of love, joy, hope, faith, and happiness.  All those feelings come from family.  Family is everything.  I've always been taught that, and as I continue to go through life, I'm convinced more and more over time of how true it is.
  The best part though, is not only that family everything, but it is something that goes on forever.  Both in a literal and metaphorical sense.  Nick lives on through his sons, through the attributes he's passed on to them, through the good habits, the example, the hard work and the dedication that he taught them.  His personality quirks,  the things he loves, his hobbies, his passions, his attitude, his consistency, his priorities, even his life's work, has all passed down to his six sons.  The wonderful attributes that he had here on earth will continue to be practiced by them, and their children, and their children's children.  In that sense, it goes on forever, but there's a much stronger, sweeter, forever than that. Not only did he leave a legacy behind through his posterity, but we really are eternally connected through God.  We will all be actually physically together again; death cannot break a family's connection, if anything it makes it stronger, and some day when it's our turn to leave our bodies and move on into the next life, he will be there waiting for us and welcoming us.  Just having this knowledge is one of the most wonderful, and joyful sources of comfort possible here on earth.  I'm so thankful for that knowledge.  It's not just a belief, I know it will happen.  I know it.
Nick knew it too. He knew the importance of family.  Less than two weeks before he passed on, we spent a wonderful evening together with him celebrating his life and his accomplishments.  Each of his sons gave a heartfelt speech about things they've learned from their father and how those things have helped them into their adulthood.  He in turn, spoke about them, and all of us as his family. It was one of the last times he was able to speak for such a long period of time, and even then it required effort.  It's no coincidence that some of his last words were about the value of his family. 

"...My children, daughter's in law, our grandchildren are the greatest gift in life to me. I'm thankful for that.  I'm grateful to Heavenly Father for that. He's made it possible, as have all of you.  I love you more than life itself....I've got what I want for my family, you're doing the right things, you're rearing your children properly, you love each other.  Do what you need to do.  The foundation's been set. Foundations cannot be overemphasized.  You set a foundation; you set it strong, it's really hard to tear that foundation down.  Keep on the path your on.  Keep building that strong foundation with all your kids. You've go a difficult path ahead of you, the world is wicked and it's only going to get worse.  You are purveyors of the truth." Nicholas Craig Itri

Nick loved his family.  He loved his family "more than life itself."  I can't think of anything more honorable in a person than to truly love their family with all their heart, and to continuously express that love and appreciation for them.  He did that.  When Scott and I got married in the temple, and he hugged us both to congratulate us, he turned to Scott, and said, with tears in his eyes, pointing to me, "You treat her like a queen."  It is one of my favorite memories of him I'll ever have.   I'll will cherish that memory for the rest of my life, and I will never forget it.  He already showed a tremendous amount of love for me in that moment, even though he hadn't known me very long.
  I may not have lived here in Pennsylvania with him and seen him all the time,  but I still loved Nick.  I loved watching him tease his sons and play jokes on them, I loved watching him and my brother in law Dan get into sand fights at the beach.  I loved watching my little son Seth crawl in his lap and lean his head on Nick, and Nick in return, rubbed his head in affection.  I loved watching him crack up at silly things and not be able to stop laughing at them.  I loved seeing him sit back and smile in amusement while his grand kids made noise and ran around the house, because he enjoyed having them around even though they were loud and crazy.  I loved seeing my husband talk to him about their jobs, and asking him for advice.  He was a good man.  He passed his test here in mortality.  His sons will carry on the good he gave to the world, and now he can continue to do good in the next life.  I can only hope that one day that I will have a strong positive influence on my children, the way he was able to have a strong influence on his.  Many of his traits were passed on to my husband, Scott.  I fell in love with Scott because of the personality he had, and Nick influenced that.  I will always be grateful to Nick and his wife, Margret, for the good they instilled in Scott.  They gave me my husband, my eternal companion, the person I have chosen to be with forever.  I love both of my in-laws for that.  He has learned so many of his good qualities from each of them.

Our youngest son Samuel, has the name Nicholas for a middle name. We gave him that name, because while we were deciding on names, we heard his health was starting to fail, and we were worried about how much time he had left here. We gave Samuel that middle name, because we wanted him to be able to think about his grandfather in case he wouldn't get the chance to get to know him here here in this life.
When we got out here to see him for the first time since his health started to fail, the first thing Scott did was hand Samuel to him to let him hold him. I didn't have my camera with me at that moment, but thankfully we do have a picture of him holding our last child.  It was the last time we all took pictures as a family.
 We love that we will be able to show Samuel this picture one day, and say that, "That man holding you, is your grandpa, you're  middle name is the same name as his, you were named after him because we loved him, and wanted you to be able to think about him."  Hopefully because Samuel will see that he's being held by him in this picture, and that they share a name, he will be able to have interest in knowing about him and his life as he gets older.

Margie and Nick Itri with all their current grandchildren.

Here is our last picture as a whole family together:

Nick's Legacy

We will all miss him.  It has been a hard few weeks here.  Hard to watch his health deteriorate, and hard to say goodbye for now.  It's hard to grieve, but grief, in itself, is also an important part of life. It's required of all of us to grieve, in order to become more like Christ.  Anyone who experiences sincere love for others, will eventually suffer grief.  Elder Lance B. Wickman, a member of the seventy and an authority in our religion, having experienced his own form of grief for his young son, explained, "Grief is the natural by-product of love.  One cannot selflessly love another person, and not grieve at his suffering or eventual death.  The only way to avoid the grief would be to not experience the love; and it is love that gives life it's richness and meaning."

I love that quote.  That quote has proved itself to be true these last two weeks.  I'm so blessed, and lucky and proud, to be married into a family that has so much love in it.  I've seen love here around me, in spite of the feelings of grief.  Sons loving fathers, Husbands loving wives, parents loving their children, wives being there for their husbands, brothers being there for brothers, and sons being their for their mother. What an incredible thing to be a part of in this world, especially in the times we live in, and what a wonderful thing to enjoy throughout life. THAT is happiness.  The bond that you have as a family not just through the good times, but also the hard ones.  The love that exists and grows between those family members as they go through the craziness of life.  The amount of love that I've seen these last few weeks in this family is truly inspiring, and has made my love for my Itri family grow even stronger.  

Families can be together forever.  Forever in attributes, forever in posterity, forever in both this life and the next, and forever in their love.  

Thank you Nick, for reminding me of that important truth.  Even at the end of your life here in mortality, you still managed to teach and bring your family together, and to help me love and appreciate my husband, children, and extended family more than ever. 

I'm gonna win!!!!

This has pretty much been the most stressful month ever.  Too much happening at the same time.  Adjusting to 4 kids, unexpectedly moving, nursing, packing, figuring out stupid details, deciding to sell our cars, then deciding we may keep one of them, deciding whether or not to buy another car, cleaning, physically recovering from childbirth, blessing Samuel before moving, putting things into storage boxes, RE-packing some things because some things work better in different boxes than others, trying not to ignore my new baby while getting things done, last minute family gatherings and saying goodbye to family and friends,  frequent migraines from a random head cold, pediatrician appointments, transferring school records, looking into East Coast insurance plans, selling our house, sifting through items I want to donate to good will, overloading trash cans, getting up at  3am with the baby,   and NOW Jake has the flu.  He's thrown up 4 times today so far, and I have to keep cleaning him up and changing his clothes and rocking him to sleep, then washing and sanitizing myself right after so I can feed and change Samuel without passing germs on to him.
Its hard not to feel overwhelmed.  I know this will pass and it will all be a memory, but for right now it's hardest for me not to feel angry.  Angry because there's nothing I can do to control the situation, and control anything at this point really, and angry because I'm allowing myself to feel overwhelmed when there are bigger problems out there in the world.
The good news is that one of my biggest talents, is the ability to bounce back when things knock me down.  I may not handle every situation perfectly, I may get stressed, angry, and overwhelmed sometimes, and I may get discouraged, but I  always always always get back up, dust off, and keep going.  It's one of the only things I'm good at.  I know how to keep going.  Sometimes I have to sit down and cry for a minute to release my frustration, but then I fight back.  I don't like loosing, and I don't like quitting.
Usually I deal with my emotions through cardiovascular exercise, but I can't do that for another week and a half, but I still have music.
Music is one of my big outlets for dealing with stress.  So this is my theme song right now, I've been listening to it all day, because life is a race, and I'm going to win. Oh yes, I'm going to win.  Maybe not gracefully, or beautifully, or with poise and class, I may be clawing and biting my way to the finish line covered in mud, and  probably also covered in my kids poop and vomit, and muttering to myself like a  schizophrenic, but I'll get there. I'm going to win.

On other news, we blessed Sammy yesterday.  We wanted to get it done before we left, because we really like the ward/neighborhood we're in, and my parents wanted to be a part of it and Scott's mom said to go ahead and do it out here, so we did.  It was simple and he probably got the least amount of family members attending than my other kids, but it was still a beautiful blessing and I was thankful for the day and the opportunity to appreciate my new son for the day.  He is such a sweet little boy already, and such a well behaved newborn.  I have to set an alarm on my phone to feed and change him because he doesn't cry when when he's dirty or hungry. He hardly cries at all, and I can already see so much love in his darling face when he looks at me and makes eye contact.  I love him so much.  I hope I can give him all the attention he needs in spite of all the recent chaos.  Whenever I can stop and hold him for a little bit, it's comforting, and I'm thankful for that.

This is actually our first family photo with all six of us.  Hurray!!

Words cannot express the amount of love I have for this little face.  

I took this one when he turned 4 weeks old.  We survived the fist month!  Yay!

Adjustments and transitions

This is a true story.  I was up in bed nursing in the wee hours of the night, and I had an epiphany.  I felt like I had so many things to share, and that I simply HAD to blog about them and share my thoughts with the blogosphere.  Then I woke up in the morning and couldn't for the life of all that was and has ever been holy figure out what the crap I wanted to blog about, what the amazing thoughts were, or if they even made sense anyway because I hadn't  had much sleep.  So whatever brilliant thing I had to share with you guys, it's all gone and lost in whatever corner of my brain thought it up because I didn't write it down.  Sorry.  I will however give you some life updates.  First of all, I feel the need to explain to people why they haven't seen me in three weeks. You know besides the fact that I JUST HAD A BABY because some of you still expect to be seeing me around like it's no big deal or something. Some of you have stopped by the house, so I guess I saw you then, but only if I trusted you enough to not judge me in my heinous post baby horror movie-esque state, but other than that I've been MIA.  Scott had to practically force me in the car to go through the drive thru at Popeye's chicken just so I could come out of my crypt for a little bit.

Something happens to me when I have a baby.  I turn into a hermit.  There are lots of reasons for that.  Shall I list them?
1. For the first two to three weeks I require a 5 minute ritual just to be able to go to the bathroom properly.   Those who've given birth before know what I'm talking about.  Witch hazel, giant thunder pads, a "water bottle", sometimes an antiseptic spray, etc etc.  and that's just going number ONE.  I won't even go into the trauma of unleashing the chocolate terrorist, which is the thing of nightmares.
2. There are of course, the emotional changes too.  Sooo many emotions, ups, downs, and confusing hormone adjustments.  I happen to be one of the 70% of women who have mood swings for the first two weeks postpartum.  Since I'm  3 weeks postpartum today, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.  Hormones usually start to taper off a bit by now.  Yes, sadly, you'd think that after the baby is out I wouldn't cry watching the first 10 minutes of the Disney movie 'Up' when the wife passes away and Mr. Fredrickson is left all alone in the funeral home with a balloon looking at the ground,  or seeing the rose on Christine's grave at the end of  the "Phantom of the Opera" movie because seriously, he never stopped loving her over the years you guys, plus the music is just so powerful geez.
3. I hate coping with my physical limitations.  I get tired after walking around for a little bit and not even doing anything. Seriously, I sleep, I nurse, I change three thousand diapers (two kids in diapers), I sit on the couch, and go to the bathroom.  Sometimes I clean a little.   Also my back still hurts when I bend over, but that's the least of my problems of things that hurt right now.  (See above paragraph of bathroom problems.)  Also I'm sore all over.  I don't remember being so sore after childbirth with my last three kids.  I'm convinced this is my body telling me that it's done.  Sometimes you  just know when your body has had enough.  I'm pretty sure I've reached that point.  Hence why this is most likely my last baby.  People say never say never, but when your body threatens to kill you if you try this again, it's a good enough sign for me, and my body hasn't been nearly as cooperative as it's been in the past.
4. I am currently not suitable for the public eye.  No really.  Makeup is too much work. I try and shower when I can, but it's usually a quick ninja shower because kids.  I wear gym shorts and T-shirts all day, and whenever I see myself in a reflective surface I throw up a little in my mouth.  I know I know I should be nicer to myself and women need to stop self image bashing, but I'm only  human. It's not really self hate, more like when I  look at the image of me, it just doesn't make sense to my brain.  My mind does not compute.  Much like looking at a picture of a UPS truck having nearly fallen into a ditch while some kid in a tuxedo shows you his sewing machine.

This is how I feel about my postpartum image when I look in the mirror.  "What the?"  "Why?" "How?" "Where did THAT come from?"  "But...how did"  "No wait..."  

5. I'm just too dang tired to give a crap.  You know how it goes, up feeding a baby all night, then changing them, then going to the bathroom for 20 minutes, then trying to sleep but my hip hurts for some inexplicable reason, then up early with baby at the crack of dawn, then other kids are awake, so I have to stay awake too so that they don't stab each other in the eyeball with colored pencils or try to throw a cinder block in the toilet. You know, the usual stuff that you deal with when you have more than one kid and you just gave birth.

So those are just the five reasons off the top of my head, but I'm sure there's more.

I feel like I need to say this to people right now.

On to other I guess, more important and serious news.

Some of you have known for a couple of weeks now, and to those who didn't I made one of those lame "Facebook announcement" things yesterday, but we are moving, and we're moving across the country.  We're spending this whole next year with Scott's side of the family in Philly.
I'm not sure where to go with explaining all the reasons right now and how much detail is necessary, but essentially the main reason is that Scott's dad and my father in law, Nick, has been battling stage 4 colon cancer for the past five years like a champ.  Recently, he  has come across some physical obstacles, including changes in treatment, that have led him to decide to retire, so that he can focus on his family and his well-being.  It hasn't been an easy decision for him or us, but we all feel like it's best for Scott to start getting to know Nick's clients, and building a relationship with them, so that he can inherit the business, also for Nick to not have to worry about working too hard. Scott will still have his business here in Utah as well.  The plan is to manage the one here online, while working with the other, and when we come back here, he will hopefully be able to manage the business in Philly online while working here. We will see if it works.  It's a risk for us, we could easily loose clients and money out here in Utah while we're away, and we could easily loose clients in Philly who just don't want to make the adjustment to having a new accountant to deal with who isn't Nick. The potential gain would outweigh the risk though, not to mention the time we would be able to spend with family out there, who we don't get to see as often as we like.  Mostly I'll be happy to see family, as I think Scott is too. I'm hoping that at some point we will be in a position where we can spend all our summers out there in Philly and the School year out there in Utah, that way we can spend time with both families, and be able to manage both businesses easier, also so that my children get exposed to more than one culture as far as the way people think and live their lives.  I love Utah, but I believe that kids should also see what life is like other than what's in their immediate surrounding bubble wherever that is.  I was lucky enough to have parents who traveled often, not just state wide but also to different countries, sometimes spending over a year somewhere else, and even though we always came back to Utah, I was able to learn a lot about people in general and be more balanced as a person. I think it helped me have a better point of view on life in general and still stay grounded to my core values.
Speaking of the way I was raised, I'm thankful that my parents have been so extremely supportive of us leaving and going out there.  My amazing mother comes over and helps me with the laundry and dishes every day, as well as helping me press and fold clothes so that they will be ready to pack. She has also hired some help with maintaining our backyard and keeping it weed free and clean since I'm still in hermit mode. Both of my parents are doing everything they can to make the transition easier for us, and are excited to come out and visit while we are there.

So that's basically what's new with us.

Here are some recent pictures of Samuel:

3 weeks old. Another binki lover

Looking  around

2 weeks old. Instagram picture

This one was taken with my phone a few days ago.  I love that he's looking right at the camera. This is the closest to what he looks like right now.  It's so hard to snap a shot of how they really look at this age because they're always making faces.

Epidural please. Now.

So I was actually hoping the little guy would stay in there a little longer.  Going into labor makes me nervous.  I hate pain. As a result of my pure hatred for physical pain I opt for the epidural every time. Judge all you like.

Keep your documentaries and articles and blah blah blah.  You won't change my mind.  I have no guilt whatsoever. Just gimme the drugs.

I had an induction date set for July 12th, which is still 4 days away from when I'm writing this post.  My actual due date was July 18th, which was 6 days after that.  Due to the fact that my body is insane and not in a good way, out of these four kids, I've only made it to my induction date once, and even then, I was already in the early stages of labor, and wouldn't have made it much longer.  Actually the one time I did make it to my induction was my easiest and most problem free labor and delivery of all.  Again, another reason why I opt to go this route. I respect the gals who have strong enough bodies to go all natural, but I'm not one of them. I need medical help every time, not just for selfish reasons like "I hate pain", but because in the past I would have lost my firstborn, and probably died after giving birth to my second born if it wasn't for the pitocin and induction process. 

So the last week before I went into labor, I was feeling particularly yucky.  I've felt yucky during pregnancy many times, so I didn't think it was anything to make a huge deal about.  It was hard not to complain though.  Scott is convinced that there were events going on that whole week that stressed me into early labor.  I'm not sure if he's right or not, but it's hard to deny that with so many issues and things to worry about all coming at once that week, that I wasn't extremely stressed, and the stress did cause my body to react angrily.  There is a lot going on with us right now, when details are worked out I will blog about it, but right now nothing will be absolute until the kinks in our plans are figured out so I'll wait.  Part of that situation is that we are probably moving.  Again, long story, and I will blog about it later, once things are figured out and more absolute. Nevertheless all the information that came all at once, made life a little complicated during that week because I had to rearrange a lot of upcoming plans and prepare for new ones.  The night I started feeling the real labor pains, I was actually up until midnight packing some of my clothes in my closet into boxes and trying to figure out what I was going to keep and what I was going to throw away.  I was trying to get the majority of that figured out before the baby came.

So it was during that night, that I was organizing my clothes with Scott, that I started to feel what I thought were just more Braxton hicks contractions.  They actually started around 8pm and I noticed some were more painful than others, but that had been happening all week, so I figured it was no big deal.  I did start lazily timing them a little just in case though, but wasn't expecting it to go anywhere.  At the time they were still a little sparadic, some every 4 minutes, some every 8 minutes.  Since they weren't that consistent I just figured it was my body still being nuts and went on with my life.  There was a point while packing though, that I stopped and got down on all fours until the pain passed.  Probably should have taken that as a hint, but nooooo.  Instead I got back up and went back to work.  Scott joked that he hoped it was real labor because he didn't feel like going into work the next day, but since I grumpily told him I was fine, he didn't worry too much about it. So sometime after midnight I got into bed.  Scott noticed that I was in more pain than usual, but when he asked me about it again, I told him that I refuse to be the girl who goes running into the hospital with my hopes up only to be sent home in false labor, so unless something dramatic happened like my water breaking, I was just going to sleep it off.  I figured I was just tired and needed to rest, since it was late at night.
Trying to sleep wasn't my cup of tea.  I was still hurting, and I couldn't get comfortable, but I managed to fall asleep sometime after one.
So from there, one minute I'm having a dream about being in an amusement park.  I got into my seat to get into a roller coaster and just buckled my seat belt, when I was hit with a mind boggling pain.  In my dream I thought my appendix burst.  Then the pain came again, then again.  It finally jolted me out of my sleep.  I woke up in bed and was pretty annoyed that these contractions were hurting so bad, and also a little worried.  What if this was real?  Nah.  At first I thought, "well, if it's real it will take all day anyway, and I'm tired, I should just sleep through it and see if it still hurts in the morning, then maybe check it out if it's still there."  So I literally was dozing off between contractions, only to be jolted back awake when another one would come.  So finally I took out my phone and started loosely timing them.  They seemed to be coming every four minutes. Hm.  Well I've had false ones come that close together in the past and it was nothing so I shouldn't worry right?  Right?  I'm sure I look like a dope to people who were reading this and they're wondering why I didn't want to run to the hospital, but see, it was still just so early.   Maybe if it were a few days later, but since it had been a relatively healthy pregnancy up until the last week or so, I didn't see any reason for me to be going into labor.
They were still hurting.  A lot.  My insides were being squeezed by an imaginary giant fist that was determinded to liquify them.  Aw shiz, maybe this is real.  Well, let me get up and go to the bathroom and see if that makes it go away.
I must have been wiggling a lot, or maybe grunting and groaning because Scott woke up and asked me if I was okay.  All I could say was "I hurt."  In a groany, irritated tone. He wanted to take me to the hospital, but again, I was in complete denial.  NO.  I don't want to be in labor right now.  I didn't even pack my hospital bag, my living room is dirty. ..like with shoes and toys and probably Ritz cracker crumbs,  and I'm too busy to be in labor right now.  Nothing is organized.  Just no.
Scott went downstairs to try and find the camera and make sure the batteries in it were charged, "just in case". 
At that point it was Scott convincing me that we should get it checked out.  He started with,  suggesting that I should just go and the don't worry, the world won't end if it was just really painful false labor and, and better safe than sorry.  I kept telling him that I was probably just being a baby and a wimp and not to worry.
The pain was getting ridiculous though.  My entire pelvis was on fire.  If it could talk it would have been screaming "Whhhy?!  Why do you hate me?!  Let me DIIIIIE!"
Meanwhile, I was starting to be convinced, then unconvincing myself between contractions.  When one would hit, I'd stop moving and bend over and moan and say, "Okay okay this hurts lets go," and when it would pass and I felt good again, I would say, "No haha just kidding, I'm fine I'm fine, I feel good now I think it's gone must have just been a really bad random pain."  Then another one would hit, and it would start all over to "Aaargh!  Stop stabbing me!" back to, "Well that was probably the last one, lets go back to sleep."  So Scott being Mr. technology, started timing them on the ipad. This is an actual screen shot of the ipad that we took later since it was still on there by the time this was all over:

They were averaging every four and a half minutes so far

Started timing them around 3:30 until 4:40

So out of stubbornness and denial, I went through this ridiculous pain for a little over an hour.  I still refused to deal with the idea of waking up the kids in the middle of the night in case it was for no reason.  I have three kids.  Do you know what it's like to wake up three small children in the middle of the night?  Do you?  Yeah well it was enough for me to continue to remain in torturous pain for a while, that's what it's like.  I actually tried to convince Scott that I should just drive myself to the hospital because, really, I'm fine...and I'd call him from there if it was real.  He laughed at me and of course said no. Which caused me to whine that this was turning out to be too complicated. 
The next contraction sent me to the floor. To. The. Floor.  Gripping the carpet and squeezing my eyes shut as hard as I could.  I refused to scream.  Screaming is for the wimpy girls in the movies.  Nope, just going to stay here and focus on that stupid chocolate carpet stain that Jake made with his milk a few months ago.  Nice carpet stain.  Good carpet stain.  I love you carpet stain.
  Scott was loosing patience with me, and warned me that I would be like our neighbor who gave birth in the car on the way to the hospital and ended up on the news. (That really happened to our neighbor last year, I love her to death and felt so bad for her.)   He warned me that if that were the case he would take lots of pictures and make sure everyone saw them. That had me convinced, so I let him wake up the kids and we all got in the car to go to the hospital.
From there the ride was kind of like a movie, where the mom in hunched over with eyes tight shut in the front seat groaning every four minutes, while the kids are in the back asking if mom is okay.  I remember asking Scott why the car ride seemed to take so dang long and did he take a longer route or something?  Seriously, he was taking the long way wasn't he?
Scott dropped me off at the entrance.  I told him to go park with the kids, and that I'll keep him on speakerphone on my phone.  I didn't want him to come in with everybody because of Jake, who being only 18 months old and awakened from his silent slumber, was on an anger rampage and wasn't going to take any prisoners.  When I got there, a really nice security guard, who seemed to be the only one there in the main enterance since it was 4am, asked me if he could help me.  I told him that I thought I was in labor, and after an "oh dear" from him, he went and got a wheelchair and insisted on wheeling me to the maternity floor. I'll never know that guys name, but he was a really sweet guy.  I didn't feel like being the hero and trying to walk through the contractions at that point, so I was fine sitting in the chair like a helpless old lady.  Whatever. Let's just get this over with.
So I got in and they put me in a little back room where they could moniter me.  This happened before when I went into labor with Jacob, so I was fairly familiar with this room.  The only difference is that when I was in labor with Jake I still felt human, and not like I was being sawed in half.  Through all of this I was still trying to remain plesant, and even forced a smile to everyone I met, though it was probably more of a grimace.
 I had been dilated to a two,  days earlier but when the nurse checked, I was a little over a four.  From what the internet says, a four is a good time to go to the hospital, so I was feeling relived, thinking, "Cool, I'm a four, now take me to the delivery room and hook me up to an IV and get me out of this mother freaking pain!"  However, I guess because I wasn't screaming and cursing she said that they would monitor me for an hour first.  An hour.  If I could go back in time I would have resorted to the screaming and cursing, with a few threats, demanding she call my doctor.  Since I was exhauseted and in sort of a haze however, I just layed my head down and stared at the clock.
Longest. Hour. Ever.
I blame the nurse.  I could tell that she didn't want to be there and I was just a "job".  I even got up to go to the bathroom and I swear my water had broken and was trickling down my leg very lightly, but when I brought it up that I felt like things were more wet down there than usual, she shrugged it off an said it was from the lubricant she used when she checked my cervix.  She didn't even test it.  That little wench deserved a kick in the gut.  Really.  Maybe it's because I was in intense pain, but I decided right then that I hated her.  I still resent her because it was obvious she didn't care about me at all, and I was right too, because I found out her shift was ending and she just wanted to go home. I wish I remembered her name...I would complain to the hospital.  Yes that's mean and I don't know her and maybe she was having a bad day and blah blah blah but I was having my pelvic area beaten with a sledge hammer every four minutes and she made it obvious she didn't even care.  It was during this long and lonely hour that the terrible fear that I would just keep dilating and that I wouldn't get my epidural on time crossed my mind, and I was starting to internally panic a little.  I must have muttered a prayer under my breath after every single mind numbingly painful contraction that I would be able to get the epidural on time if this baby came fast.  Really.  I was saying silent prayers the whole time in spite of all the anger and frustration and my complete lack of feeling spiritual at the moment. I was desperately begging to PLEASE let me get out of pain before this baby comes.  Pleeeeease.
 So... during this time where they decided to keep monitoring me, Scott was still there on the phone and instead of waiting there for an hour with the kids in the car, he decided to just go ahead and drive them to my parents house so that he could come inside the hospital and keep me company.   By now it was about 5am.  My body felt like it was being eaten alive by flesh eating zombies for the last two hours.  THIS is why I was dumb for just not going in at three a.m. people.  What the crap was wrong with me?   Why did I always have to prove that my pain isn't real?  I did this once when I was seventeen and I tore my ACL ligament in my left knee.  Instead of getting it checked out by a doctor, I was sure it was just a sprain and I went and found some old crutches in the garage and used those for two weeks, before my dad finally forced me to have a doctor look at it.  Yeah that little knee problem ended up in major reconstructive surgery and I still have two huge screws holding my left knee together and the scar to prove it.  I am an idiot when it comes to pride and pain.  An idiot.
Anyway back to the story, from what I was told, while I was writhing in agony inside that little back room in the hospital, Scott arrived at my parents house with the kids at about 5:30.  My sister, half asleep, answered the door, and Scott just said, "Lisa's in the hospital.  Here." and handed my 18 month old to her and pushed the older two in the door and then ran to the car and drove away like a madman.  My sister just stood there confused because she had just woken up, and my poor kids were even more confused.
 Scott called me a little bit after that while he was on his way back.  By then, I was sitting there alone and in pain, hooked up to a monitor and angrier than a hornet.  Honestly I don't remember much about the conversation, except that I cursed out the nurse to Scott, and I paused mid sentence while doing it, because I was having another contraction, and could not speak during them.   I just wanted Scott there because every minute was beginning to feel like an eternity. I remember that Scott laughed at some point because I was breathing furious threats that if they thought after this hour that there was even a chance they could send me home than I would raise hell and unleash all my inner demons upon the pitiful and pathetic souls that were were trying to torture me there.  Sometimes, pain makes you want to curl up in a ball and die, but for me, I was angry.  Really really angry.  I wanted to kill someone first, then curl up in a ball and die, but not until I took someone with me.
10 minutes before the hour ended, the new nurse who took over for the one I hated popped her head in the door and offered to check my progress even though I still had ten more minutes before the hour was through. Yes please.  I could tell this one was already a much better nurse. So she checked me  and then informed me that I was now dilated to a 6, so she would call my doctor and they would move me into the delivery room, where I could get out of pain and have all my dreams come true.
Scott came in right about then.  Finally it seemed like things were going to be okay.
Once we got into the room they were starting me on my IV fluid and went to call the anesthesiologist.  Too bad the anesthesiologist was taking his sweet time.  Where was he?  Was he counting floor tiles?  Tiptoeing through the tulips?  Making out with a nurse somewhere?  Filing his nails?  In the bathroom with diarrhea?  Where the freak was he????  At this point, I swear I could feel my body dilating even more. My bones were splitting open. I felt helpless.  A lot of angry thoughts about why any woman would actually choose to feel all this pain was going through my mind. (for which I apologize, because a lot of women I really like and respect chose natural childbirth and I admire them for it, but I was in labor and not thinking kind thoughts.)  Then I realized that the reason I was  so upset, was because unlike me, those woman chose the pain.  I didn't.  Maybe if I was one of those girls that actually wanted to try natural birth than this would be more tolerable because it would be the consequences of my own decisions, but now I was trapped in a tunnel of unbelievable pain and I had no say in the matter and what if that stupid anesthesiologist doesn't get here in time?  I can feel this baby coming now.  I can feel it, he's coming, and now I would be trapped into the birth plan that I don't want and feeling this monstrous pain that I never wanted and I only had two hours of sleep and this had been such a hard week and what if the baby was too small because it's so early and why can't anything I originally plan actually work out without something changing those plans, or going wrong?  I was angry and frustrated and in pain and a little afraid and overwhelmed, and I finally let my tough girl guard down and two little tears started to fall down my face.
Interestingly enough, those little tears were enough to snap me out of my feeling trapped sensation because I couldn't let anybody see me cry. Yes, in spite of all of this, that was still a priority for me. I didn't want to be the lady who shamelessly cried and made a scene like the one in the movies while giving birth. Yes, my pride won again.
Too late though.  Scott noticed.  He asked if I was okay and I just shrugged.  The nurse turned around just in time to see me quickly wipe a tear and asked if I was alright and I stuck my nose in the air and sniffed, and said "I'm fine."  I'm not sure because at this point in all the pain it was kind of a haze but I think she chuckled at my defiance.
Finally that dang Anesthesiologist came in and took what felt like the longest time humanly possible to get me prepped and ready for the needle, then hook up the tube to my body so that I could get out of pain. I wanted to scream at him to just stab me with that thing already, but instead I co operated and was kind. He must have known how I was feeling because he made sure I had as high a dose as possible to start out with.  He hit me right on the nerve, I know because I felt that little shocky feeling that you get when you hit a nerve.  I've had it before while getting a root canal and the dentist gave me a shot and hit the needle directly on the nerve.  I was glad though, because that meant that the medicine would work faster, which it did once it was finally flowing through my system. 

This picture couldn't be more accurate for me.

Not even two minutes later did the pain start to ease and my doctor, who was dressed all in golfing clothes came in the room.  Apparently she was inturrupted on her drive over to make tee time when they called.  I apologized and she just laughed and said that it was no big deal and she just called her friends and told them she was going to be late and to start without her.  She was just as surprised as I was that I didn't make it to the 12th, since the last time she saw me a week earlier, all was well.  It was actually a great relief to see her there.  I love my O.B.  She is amazing and just seeing her actually calmed me down.  With all of my kids, she had done an amazing job and always made me feel like my needs came first.
So she checked my cervix right away, and lo and behold, I had been dilated to an 8.
I read later on the internet that once you're dilated to an 8 they usually don't give you the epidural anymore because it's just too late and it wouldn't take affect in time anyway.  Apparently I had made it just in time.  I believe it was a tender mercy from Heavenly Father to save me from having to go through the whole thing in pain and against my will.  Believe what you want, but I seriously think that he cared enough about me and my small pathetic needs to throw me a bone and give me the birth experience I actually  wanted at the last second.  The funny part is that the nurses kept telling me that I managed the pain really well and stayed extremely controlled during that time.  HA!  If they only knew.  Scott did.  He knows me well enough to know how hard that was for me no matter how stone faced I seemed on the outside.  Worst. Pain. Ever. Seriously. 
On a side note, This post isn't meant to be a big debate on epidurals vs natural birth.  I think every mom should have the option of getting the birth experience she wants.  That's all.  I'm still convinced that my attitude would have been much better if I had chosen to go all natural,  but by feeling forced into it, I panicked.  I also sympathize with the moms who want to be all natural and can't because of whatever complications come up.  In the end, it stinks either way when you don't get the birth you want.  I'm just thankful that in spite of my horrible attitude and anger and frustration, that somehow those little muttered prayers during that hour in the monitor room were heard, and that Heavenly Father let me have my stupid epidural just in time, and that in the colossal scheme of real problems in the world, that I mattered enough to him for him to let me have that one little tender mercy.
It wasn't even ten minutes later after she checked my cervix at an 8 that I jumped up to 10 and had to start pushing.  Because he was so ready to come, it only took three long pushes and he was out.  Another wonderful little miracle was that it turned out he was posterior, and my wonderful O.B. was able to turn in just in time before he came out.   
He let out nice healthy cries, and they handed him to me and let me look at his perfect little face.  Magically, just like the three other times before that, I was in immediately in a deep soul filled love.  He was beautiful, wonderful, and mine. My body formed and molded this perfect little human being.

I love him, I love him, I love him!!!!

7lbs 6oz and 20 inches long.  I was told that had I gone full term he would have been huge.  I like him at this size.  So does my cervix.

We are all so happy to have him here! 

Daddy and little Sammy

Once the kids were able to come visit, they seemed the most excited of all.  Last time with Jake even though they understood and thought it was cool, it was still so new.  Now that they knew a little bit of what to expect, they were beyond thrilled to meet him and hold him.  It made me so happy to see how excited they were.

Crystal is madly in love.  Every morning when she wakes up she asks to hold him.  She also frequently exclaims, "I love him SO much" over and over. 

Seth still remembers Jake being new and in the home, and now that he's older he was more excited than ever to see his new little brother.  He thinks Sam is the cutest kid who ever existed.

Here is Jake meeting Samuel.  The funniest thing is that even though he liked him and wanted to grab him every five seconds, he didn't realize we were keeping him until we brought him home, and then he couldn't stop saying "baby!" and wouldn't leave him alone once he noticed him in our house.  We're still trying to get him to learn his name instead of just calling him "baby."  We're also really careful not to let him get too close for right now.

Just so the people complaining about this pic on Facebook are aware, I Photoshopped the shiz out of my face on this one.  It had dark circles and tired eyes and puffier cheeks.  Notice my stomach is also completely covered. I modified it to the "internet friendly" version, instead of the "I just gave birth" version.  In real life I look like a zombie Snooki right now.

Little hospital name tag on his bed

My sweet family.

It's been 6 days since I gave birth, so nearly a week.  I'm still exhausted.  Whenever I get after pains, I remember the pains from the contractions of being dilated to an 8 and I cringe.  I'm traumatized for life. LIFE I tell you. I hate pain. In a way it's good that this happened with my last child because, having felt nine tenths of whatever natural childbirth is like, I don't think I would ever want to risk feeling that again.  I'm sure I won't always feel that way, but for now I'm still unhappy about how painful it was.  I'm also sure a lot of people who really love the whole natural thing are thinking, "You almost did it, you should have waited those last 10 minutes so you could say you had a real natural birth, you were so close!"  Yeah...no.  I never want to do that again.  Sorry.  Worst pain ever.  I don't care if that makes me a wimp in your eyes.  I don't care if you've had 10 natural births and didn't blink an eye.  Good for you.  My mind works differently than yours, and I cannot for the life of me find any logic in choosing to feel pain when you don't have to.  I just can't.  I hope we can still be friends though.
So these days I'm trying to take it easy, which is easier said than done with three other kids and a lot of stuff to figure out in the next five or six weeks.  Scott keeps demanding that I lay down and rest and take naps because he doesn't want me to make myself sick.  My doctor already told him that due to my "human frailty" that I'm not even allowed to push a vacuum, and to stop me when I try and do anything. To tell you the truth it's a little frustrating.  I feel physically useless.
Scott has been fantastic and extremely supportive through all of this.  He really is my best friend in the world.  Even lately I can just lean on his shoulder and tell him all the things that I'm worried about and that are stressing me out and he is super patient and loving and compassionate and understanding.  He is taking good care of me.
  I love quiet time with my new little man.  I love holding him and kissing him and cuddling him up.  He's such a great baby so far.  He's an amazing sleeper.  I actually have to wake him up to feed him at night or he will just keep sleeping.  It actually makes me nervous, I find myself waking up and poking him and making him wiggle just to make sure he's okay because he's so dang quiet.  This is the polar opposite of the last baby, so I'm not used to a mellow, quiet baby anymore.  Granted, he's still brand new...things could change in his personality in the next few weeks, but for right now, he is just an angel.  I can't wait to continue to get to know him as his personality develops in the next few months.
Life is good.  I have a lot to be thankful for.  I did it!  I'm a mother of FOUR kids!  The whole thought of being the mother of four is still surreal to me.  Physically, I can definately feel it, but it still is weird.  I love being a mom though.  I really feel that it's my purpose, and my calling, to raise these four beautiful spirits and help them learn their way in this crazy world.  I don't take that responsibility lightly.  I think it's amazing that God trusts me with these perfect little people.  I miss them when I don't see them after a while.  Even if it's just a few hours.  I think I need them more than they need me, if that's possible. I'm so thankful for my family.  This wasn't my easiest childbirth, but so far he's my easiest newborn.  I think it's silly when I hear people say they don't want to have another kid because they couldn't possibly love someone else as much as they love their current child. I can understand other reasons, but thinking you couldn't possibly love another one as much is something I disagree with.   People are under the myth that their heart has only so much room for affection.  The amazing thing about having another kid, is that your capacity to love just grows and grows, and with that capacity to feel so much love, you also feel so much more joy and happiness.  It's the best thing ever.

Welcome to the world Samuel !!!

I will write details of my birth story in a day or two when I get some rest, but for now here are some pictures for those that have requested them.

10 days before induction date, and 16 days before actual due date.

In the nursery

Samuel Nicholas Itri

He looks like his dad.  Also a turtle. A cute one.

Ready to go home on discharge day!

Update:

I got a text complaining that there are "only four real pictures".  Here is a one minute video clip where he's actually awake.  Now I'm going to bed. Enjoy.

Life and stuff

I guess I should make an update since it's been a little while since I've talked about how our family is doing as a whole.  Overall I can't complain.  Um. Well that's not true, but I have no right to complain. So that's good enough for me. Talk to me when the 4th baby adjustment takes place and we will see.
Life is good, this pregnancy feels like it's gone faster than the others, probably because my other three babies keep me busy.  I'm worried about the stress of a newborn coming up, but also sort of accepting of the fact that it will be hard and that's okay. You gotta do what you gotta do.   I told my mom over the weekend that it will take at least another year before my life will feel manageable again, if not a year and half, but since this is my last baby it's worth the sacrifice. Actually life would be manageable right now, since Jake has become a fun loving toddler as opposed to a demanding infant.  Mostly the pregnancy is what slows things down by  making simple things like lifting, twisting, bending, walking, sleeping, standing, sitting, etc. kind of hard. Which is to be expected, it's just that I've never dealt with all that with three kids before.  Then again all this physical difficulty will be a memory at some point, so I just need to buck up and be a real woman. They displayed this picture in relief society today about "putting on the whole armor of God" as a woman.  It's a nice reminder that us women are very much warriors in our own way in this world with the things we go through:

I am WOMAN!  Roar!!!

I thought about being funny and Photoshopping my head on a warrior woman's image, but all the ones on Google images are wearing skimpy clothes, which kind of defeats the purpose.  That and I'd have to Photoshop a giant stomach onto it.  Which would still be funny actually.  Maybe another time.

I won't lie.  I worry at times about balancing 4 kids.  I'm not that worried about the demands it will take on my physical and emotional well being so much, as how it will feel for my kids to share the attention. As much as I may jokingly complain, sometimes much more than I should, but secretly I pride myself on being able to take a physical/emotional beating when necessary. I've been through enough in my life to know that I can be as tough as I need to be when the occasion arises and I don't have to prove anything to anyone...but what about my three babies? Yes, they are still "babies" to me. I want my babies to feel good through the adjustment. I want to be fair to all of them, I want them all to feel loved, I don't want any of them to feel ignored.  I don't want any of them laying on a couch with a therapist years later talking about how their mom didn't care enough about them because she was busy paying attention to their other siblings.  Crystal is my oldest, she is my only daughter, she is the princess. Seth is the oldest son and our first boy...air to Scott's throne, and will be the principal priesthood holder next to Scott in the home one day.  Honestly, I worry most about my little Jakey.  With another baby boy playing the youngest behind him and stealing his thunder, I'm worried that he will feel ignored. He's in a weird spot being between the oldest son and the youngest child.  I'm worried that out of the three boys he will feel a lack of individual attention.  Then again, anyone who knows Jake knows he fights for his fair place in every aspect of his life.  The kid does not back down when he wants or needs something from his parents or siblings. He's tough,  He is resourceful, determined, and really really smart.  The pediatrician tells me all the time that his personality traits are advanced for a kid his age. I'm guessing that's why Heavenly Father placed him third in my family, making him sort of the middle child in our group, because if anyone could handle it, he could, and the fact that he is who he is makes me feel more confident about having this new little guy in my home. Or at least feel a little better about it.  It was hard having a third, especially because that third was my most aggressive child, but in the long run it will be a blessing I think, because his personality just fits there better than anyone else's.  He is my only child who could possibly handle being the middle child and come out on top.

When this kid means business, he doesn't mess around. When he wants out of the high chair, you'd better pay attention. My dad calls this look "The Jacob stare down."

 Also he has Scott on his side.  Scott was a second son, he knows how it feels.  In my opinion Scott turned out alright.  Good enough for me to pick him as an eternal partner anyway.

With my older two kids, I used to say that it was the "terrible ones" instead of "terrible twos," because they form their independence, and individual opinions, but lack proper communication, therefore get frustrated and throw tantrums.  With Jakey though, he was hardest for his first 12 months, because he was a really fussy baby, and already surprisingly stubborn.  I can't help but wonder if he had stomach issues as well.  Now that he's a year and a half, his personality is blossoming.  He's hilarious, and he's mischievous.  He adores his Daddy, and loves to rough house.  He loves to play hide and seek, he loves it when you jump out of a hiding place and scare him, and he loves to cuddle on his parents laps. His tongue has loosened up and he is starting to speak here and there. It's always fun to hear him try and talk.  Usually there are a few understandable words mixed with his own gibberish.  He loves to laugh, and has a strong but very sneaky sense of humor, and loves to play with his siblings.  He looks up to Crystal like she's a third parent.

Watching TV with Crystal.  I love this face he makes with his bottom lip sticking out.  He does it a lot when he's thinking.

 He has become my little buddy. We've really bonded the last six months or so.  He follows me around the house whenever I try to clean and even though it slows me down, I love that he wants me to hold him and that he loves to sit with me.  When I try to do my prenatal yoga and sit cross legged on the floor, he always runs up and sits on my lap.  I usually do yoga when he naps because he makes it impossible otherwise by grabbing my face or climbing on my back or crawling between my legs or giving me big sloppy kisses. It makes me laugh but also makes it impossible to meditate.  (Yes, I am a HUGE believer in meditating when your a mom. It keeps me sane. Laugh if you must.)

Scott got me a new recliner for the pregnancy/new baby.  Jacob takes a nap in it every single afternoon.  He loves it more than I do.

 He's also the jealous type. Even though he's a daddy's boy, he can't stand it when Scott pulls my attention away from him and will physically try to push Scott away from me with both arms when he wants my attention.  That being said, when Scott comes home from work, he rushes over to greet him and be held by him and play with him. Scott can rough house with him which is great because I can't even lift him up half the time. He is obsessed with 'Lightening McQueen' and 'Buzz Lightyear'.  Even though his vocabulary isn't that large, he plays pretend with his toys, making "vroom" sounds with his cars and making his Buzz toy fly around the house.  He loves animals and playing outside in the yard.  Instead of "mommy" he calls me "Mum," Like a little British man. It's really endearing when he does it. I love hearing it. He still loves his blanket, and his binkie.   He loves the song, "Jesus wants me for a sunbeam" and throws his hands up in the air during the "beam" part. His tantrums make me laugh. He dramatically flops on the floor, and rolls across the room and then army crawls back toward me like he is in pain. He loves to be teased and will try to tease you back. He is now old enough to be one of the gang as far as keeping up with his older siblings, and even though he is half their size, he absolutely considers himself one of them, without any lack of confidence in his abilities.

 He is surprisingly aggressive for someone so small.   I'm loving him at eighteen months, and all the hard work with him that first grueling year is starting to pay off with the bond I have formed with him.  I miss him when he goes to bed at night.

Let's see, what else is new?
Scott is doing well with the business.  This time of year is always a little slow with taxes, but they've had some new clients come in this month which is always a good thing, so far things are progressing, and they've recently come up with some new ideas that should keep the company growing.  As risky as it is when you start a new business, things are going fine for right now, which is a good thing because our air conditioning unit needed to be replaced, and it wasn't cheap.  Of course I had to be in my third trimester when the air conditioner dies...that's just the way life works.  We were living off of ceiling fans, screen doors in the nighttime and ice cold drinks for at least a week before they could change it.  Also the dishwasher broke down, for a week, and we just got a part on that replaced.  That's what happens when you buy a house that's been around for at least 10 years.  We've already made a point to make sure the next house we get is brand new. (He wants to build.) The fun thing about our house right now  though, is being involved in  home improvements, including converting our loft into a fourth bedroom, and replacing some of the gravel in our backyard with sod so that there's more grass out there, and more room for the kids to play.  Everywhere we look we are finding new projects around the house. We are also going to change the color of our cabinets, which we have all the supplies for but haven't gotten around to yet. I'm not exactly sure when we will since I give birth soon, but we will see. Scott does most of the manual work because at this point in my pregnancy I'm like an 85 year old lady.  I hate not being able to do stuff but it is what it is.  It's fun seeing Scott get involved in this stuff though.  He has done the research and is learning how to do a lot of handy work that he never did before, and he's doing a great job at it.
I'm basically doing fine for a pregnant lady.  I'm bigger/heavier than I've ever been in my life, about ten pounds more than when I gave birth to my other kids, so that's not my favorite but it's my fourth kid and that's what happens when you have four kids.  Yesterday on the news there was a specialist saying that pregnant mothers should only gain 25-35 pounds while pregnant.  I've gained over 40 and I still have three weeks left...so I gave the TV monitor the finger and changed the channel.  I try not to think about it, and usually I do pretty good  until I look in the mirror.  I hate mirrors.  That being said, even when I do look, I look away and sing a happy song in my head and pretend it's not happening.  I will deal with the weight when I have the ability to, and in the meantime it makes no sense to think about things I have no control over.  No big problems, except that I'm a little dehydrated these days, at least that's what my doctor says so I'm doing my best to drink more water. I also have random hormone surges in my body that create weird effects like rapid heart beat, shaking, and a weak stomach, but that will only randomly happen every once in a while.  Never happened with any of the other kids.  Weird.  Every pregnancy really is totally different. I crave a lot of artichokes, salad, snap peas, and fruit.  I hate most meat.  Scott says this baby is going to come out green because I mostly crave vegetables.   I went in almost a week ago and the Doctor said I was dilated to a 2 already, and I go in again in 3 days to get checked again, so we will see if I last the whole three weeks or not. My mom keeps saying I won't.  I'm actually hoping I do.  I know most moms want to go early, but I get nervous when I'm in labor, I worry too much about something bad happening or the baby not having enough time to cook in there.  Both Crystal and Jake came 2 weeks early, and I had to get them both out. My water broke with Crystal on a day when I was happily minding my own business, so I had no choice but to get her induced back then because I was only dilated to a one when that happened.  With Jake, I had been in early labor for a couple of days, and when I went in with contractions 3-5 minutes apart, they noticed his heartbeat was acting funny, and dropping during some of the contractions, so they kept me there in the hospital to monitor him and put me on pitocin if it didn't stop, which it didn't so out he came.  Then with Seth, they had to put me on meds because I wouldn't stop bleeding after the delivery.  While in labor with Jake my blood pressure dropped and I basically passed out during the labor so they had to snap me out of it and put me on oxygen, sooo labor isn't my favorite.  It intimidates me, also I'm not a fan of the pain either. Also I'm not a big fan of the healing process either.  So to get to the point, I'm not anxious to give birth, and it's weird, but it's true.  Life seems a little easier with little Samuel on the inside of me so far.  Pregnancy isn't easy, but at least I feel like I have a little control in my life for a few weeks right now.
Oh, yes.  His name is Samuel.  Scott and I had been going through a list of names and it was pretty horrible trying to agree on names we both liked.  Then we would come up with two or three names and think we were getting close, then wake up in the morning and one or both of us would look at our names again and decide we hated them and start from scratch.  Scott likes very basic, normal, every day guy names.  Nothing fancy, nothing trendy, nothing hard to spell or nothing that could be confused for a girl.  (Actually there are girls that go by the name "Sam" short for Samantha, which bugged him at first, but he got over it.)  I wasn't nearly as picky as Scott was.  As long as it wasn't a name that I absolutely hated, I was willing to compromise.  My biggest problem is that a lot of the names Scott liked were too common, and too boring. I won't say what they were so that anybody who has those names won't be offended, but they all reminded me of construction workers.  I like that both Seth and Jacob have scriptural references.  Seth came from the bible...after Cain killed Abel, Adam gave the priesthood to Seth, who was supposedly a lot like Abel in nature and personality, and of course his love for God. So Seth helped carry the priesthood to the rest of the world.  Jacob, is both in the Book of Mormon and the Bible.  Jacob fathered the 12 tribes of Israel, and was a second son in birth order, but still very strong in personality. Just like ours.  Jacob in the B.O.M. was Nephi's little brother, and became the Prophet after Nephi died.  He knew his share of dealing with hard times and still stayed faithful.  Ultimately the name Samuel was a good compromise for us, because it's not an abnormal name, and it's also in the scriptures as well.  Even though the name is both in the Bible and the B.O.M. again, I was particulary attached to the B.O.M. prophet because the prophet in that book was commanded to preach to the city of Nephi, who didn't listen to him and threw him out, and instead of giving up he climbed onto the city walls and delivered his message that way.  I love that he was set on his purpose, and what was right, and that he wasn't afraid of what other people thought or did because of it.  I want this little boy I'm going to have to be that way.  He's going to grow up in a world that is really confusing and full of people who will have different values and opinions and may try to bully him into thinking their way, and I want him not to be afraid to stand up for what he feels is right, no matter what.  I'm hoping he will use that prophet as a reference for the attitude I want him to have growing up when dealing with his peers and society in general.  So that's why the name appeals to me.  Scott felt good about it too, so we went with that.  His middle name is going to be Nicholas, after Scott's dad.  It means "victory of the people," which in a way, kind of fits the spirit of his first name in the sense that I want this little boy to stand out in a crowd when it comes to doing the right thing.

I'm told that someday I will be happy that I have a record of this.  For right now it's not my favorite, but here is proof that this is actually happening.  Again.

The other thing I didn't post that happened at the end of  last month was my little Crystal's last day of first grade.  She is growing up so so fast.  The whole day was actually kind of chaotic because I had a lot of deadlines that week.  Then I went through all kinds of trouble to run and get a boquet of flowers for Crystals teacher the night before as a token of appreciation for all she's done, and that was a pain because I had to go out of my way to get them and then argue with Scott, that yes, it was a necessary thing to do to get her teacher flowers.  THEN we somehow slept in that morning and in the chaos of getting Crystal out the door and to her school in time, I freaking forgot to send those flowers with her and didn't remember until way after Crystal got home when I saw them in a vase in our spare room.  Oops.  Yeah Scott had a great time making fun of me for that one.  On the plus side, they looked great on the dining room table. 
Anyway, here is a quick pic of my little angel on her way out the door for her last day.   I was so proud of her!

She is so grown up!  I love this girl.

Anyway, aside from Seth's birthday which I already posted about, that's how we've been for the month of June.  At this point I have two weeks and 5 days until I give birth. The kids are great.  A handful, but great nonetheless.  I still go to bed every night thinking of them and how much I love them.  They are my whole life.  Scott has done a great job at being supportive and patient because I can't do anything right now, so he helps me put the kids to bed and does all the lifting for me.  I really appreciate it and I try and make sure he knows that.  He's also patient with my occasional rants about how I hate not being able to move or do anything.  I'm sure it gets really repetitive. 
Life is good.  I keep saying that because it's true.  I'm thankful for the joy and happiness I feel in my life right now, and I'm looking forward to having even more of it when this little guy becomes part of my world forever.