Letters to Fraser: Five Months

Dear Fraser,

Wow. You're as many months as fingers on your hand. 

You are full of personality, and you express these glimpses of who you'll be someday. Like when you're whipping your arm back and forth full-throttle I think, "Could you be a hitter on a volleyball team or a pitcher someday?" Then I laugh to myself because maybe you'll have no interest in sports. 

You're rolling back and forth on the floor so much that I worry you're going to be crawling before we know it. I can't hardly give you a bath without you nearly flipping yourself out of the tub. 

We want to take you swimming because you still enjoy bath time so much...unless you're over-tired, and then you don't like anything except nursing and hitting the hay. I don't blame you. 

We aren't on a schedule, really, but we do have a nice daily routine. Once you're awake for a couple hours, we bundle up and head out into the elements, no matter the weather. You love that stroller cocoon, and next month, I'm going to be running behind it. In the afternoons, I'm trying to settle you into a crib nap, but every day is different. You always let me know when you're done playing and ready to rest. 

Right now, dear ol' Dad is working a lot, so he tries to make the most of his morning time with you, and you're a real gem in the mornings. Smiles for days, giggles, and snuggles. You also seem to know when it's the weekend because you like to lounge a little longer those days. Our days are a little long right now, when it's just you and me, and you're asleep before Dad's home from work, but you've continued to be such a good baby for me that I really have nothing to complain about. 

We've been making the most of our Sundays with little day trips and adventures in brewery touring. You absolutely loved the coast, which made your dad beam with pride. He must talk about wearing you in a backpack and heading out to fish together every weekend. There are so many outdoor adventures we just can't wait to do as a family. Do you think you're ready to camp this summer because we sure do. 

In the here and now, we love our Mondays at library music time, Fridays at the grocery store (I call you the mayor of the grocery store because you LOVE walking the aisles in the Baby Bjorn, smiling and flailing your arms around at anyone who will look our way)...and our Wednesdays at the hospital "new moms" group. But our time is limited, as you're about to age out of that group. How is this happening? There are moms with 8-week-old babies, and I think to myself "I can relate," except I can't. We're in a new stage, and you're the complete opposite of a laid-back newborn. 

I want to write everything down, like how you're sleeping and your daily milestones. But things are happening too rapidly, and I can't hardly sit down and write your monthly letter. You just started kicking water in the little bathtub, and you're sleeping with a lovie. You're starting to look like a big baby, not my tiny baby who wasn't really growing much last month. You're in 6-month clothing...what? What is happening? I cannot keep up.

I want to remember everything but some things are already a blur. I know I'll never forget when I was making dinner one night last week, and you were really starting to melt down. I threw you in a wrap to wear you, which is something I do quite frequently. Apparently, I thought it was an OK idea to try and make a whole roasted chicken in the cast iron skillet...while wearing a baby. I had the pan searing hot on the stove, and I bent over to tie the legs of the chicken together--all while wearing  you--and you decided to slip yourself right on out of that wrap. Thank God I was able to cross my hands together, just in the nick of time. Otherwise, your poor little head would have landed right on top of the raw chicken in our sink. I immediately washed one hand at a time, turned off the stove, hugged you close, and took you straight to the bathtub. Because dropping you has always been a fear of mine, I said a quiet prayer of thanks that this happened in a controlled environment, and then I vowed to make simpler recipes until I have another set of hands around during dinnertime. I should note that this sequence of events occurred shortly after I declared how I was going to start a blog or Instagram or something to inspire new moms to keep on cooking, even if they have to wear their babies. Hmmm. Maybe not so much? 

Thank you for being an incredible little human. You make my days happy--even the long and gloomy ones--and you've got a special twinkle in your eyes that just keeps getting brighter.

Love, 

Mom

She's here! Fraser Mary Bethell

Tomorrow, she will be four weeks old. Four weeks. And Saturday is her one-month birthday.

It takes my breath away thinking that all that time has passed already. There's so much to say to summarize the last nine months, and who knows if and when I'll have the time to recap here. Thankfully, I kept a hard copy journal, the old-fashioned way, to chronicle my pregnancy. What a journey.

I want to mark her milestones and mention every little thing, but before I get into those things--because I could go on forever--I want to write a bit about her birth.

Our baby boy or girl's due date was October 12. I liked that date once our doctor said it, but I knew very few babies actually come on their due dates, so I stuck with "early October" when people asked me when he or she was due.

Because of my blood disorder, I was classified high-risk, so we saw a very special doctor at OHSU who worked hand-in-hand with my blood doctor. A real dream team, if you ask us. We got to see our baby very often, with lots of doctor's visits along the way. As we approached September, the doctor told us we needed to pick a date to be induced. This caught us off-guard even though she said I wouldn't be allowed to go beyond my due date. October 12 was the natural response because we wanted the baby to have as long of a time in my belly as possible. So, Dr. Wyatt scheduled an evening induction the night of October 11. But, she said, she was going to try and get me into labor on my own before then.

So, I wrapped up things at work early, celebrating my last day September 16. I cried when I got home because I landed in the most amazing work group back in May. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive team or more creative and inspiring work to contribute to when finishing out my pregnancy. It seemed so weird to be done, not knowing what the next few weeks would bring.

I enjoyed every one of those days to the fullest. I slept without alarms, I ate healthfully and heartily, I worked out, went on long walks with Bowen, and cleaned every inch of the house. I stocked the fridge, freezer, and pantry, and I thanked God every day for the time leading up to our baby's birth.

Along with the doctor's orders of membrane stripping came extra fetal monitoring, early in the morning on the three Wednesdays before the due date. We got to see our baby blink in the womb and take "practice breaths," which only babies with extra energy take, they told us.

Yes, three Wednesdays. Little baby Bethell held out until the very end. We had one false alarm, which sent us up the hill to the hospital. I thought my water broke, but it didn't. At least we knew exactly where to go once it really came time...because that hospital tour we took about a month prior went right out the window the minute we headed in.

When we arrived, the staff welcomed us as if we were checking into a luxury hotel. "You must be Ms. Bethell?" It felt surreal. Our nurse, Catalina, walked us to our corner room, right across from the break room and snack closet (definitely came in handy). She explained how inductions work, as we really had no clue. She said the nurses and doctors have a toolkit of tricks to try and get the baby to come. It could be a long process, she said, lasting a couple of days. In fact, she said she didn't think we'd have our baby until October 13.

I settled in, took a pill, and Taylor and I went to sleep. When I woke up early in the morning, they gave me another pill and checked my body's progress. I can't remember exactly when, but the doctors decided to implant a balloon in my cervix, in an attempt to promote more dilation. Taylor and I took walks back and forth around the labor and delivery floor. There wasn't a lot of ground to cover, but it felt good getting up and moving. The nurse told us I was contracting every few minutes, but I still didn't feel anything.  By mid-afternoon, the balloon fell out, the nurse started me on pitocin, and my body started responding rapidly.

The rest of the day and into early evening seemed like a blur. I experienced a couple hours worth of contractions, and the nurses quickly got the anesthesia team into our room. It didn't seem like I had labored long enough, based on the labor classes we took. I wasn't sure I was ready for the epidural, but they told me it was now or never. I chose "now," and thank God I did because as soon as the doctor checked my progress again it was time to start pushing.

I should mention Taylor ordered dinner before the epidural came, and it arrived right before I started pushing. I remember him trying to shovel down some food before the main event began. Our delivery doctor, Dr. Batman (you read that correctly), called in the attending physician and several other resident doctors and nurses. Because I delivered at a university hospital, we had probably eight or ten staff in the room when I started pushing.

I remember feeling great before I started pushing, and everyone was so encouraging. It only took a couple of pushes before the nurse said, "We see your baby's head, and it has a full head of hair." Taylor and I looked at each other and immediately started crying. It was so real all of a sudden. We picked up a conversation with the doctors in-between contractions and even missed a contraction because all of us--doctors included--were laughing so hard. I didn't know how long it would take during this pushing phase, and I remember wondering if the doctors were lying to me or if I really was "so close" to meeting our baby.

They weren't lying. After a half-hour of pushing, our baby popped out in a hurry, and the doctor placed him or her on my chest. I was crying and in shock at the beautiful baby in front of me. I looked at Taylor and asked if it was a boy or girl. He was crying, too, and said the doctor flung the baby on me so quickly he didn't see. They turned the baby over, and he said, "It's a girl." Neither of us could believe it.

I can't even write about the feeling. There are no words. We prayed and prayed for this baby, and here SHE was. Ten fingers, ten toes, a great hue of pink. A full head of hair. Her features were so small, her legs and arms so long. I just couldn't be happier. Or more exhausted. It took the doctors while to put me back together, but I didn't care. All I could think about was this new life that was part Taylor and part me.

Throughout my pregnancy, every co-worker, friend, family member, or stranger I met at the grocery store seemed to think I was carrying a baby boy. We even thought this baby was a boy for the majority of the pregnancy. Then, close to the end, I remember looking down at my belly and saying, "I bet you are a girl in there since everyone says you are a boy."

Taylor knew right away what we should name her, but I said I needed to sleep on it. We picked the name Fraser on our road trip over the summer, and Mary was my grandma's name (mom's mom).

There are so many other details to share, but our little Fraser just woke up, and I hear her calling for "mom."

Autumn roundup 2015

Another poor excuse for my lack of writing can be pinpointed on my job. I traveled oh so much in the fall, from Los Angeles to Boulder, CO, to London, Paris, Stockholm, and then off to South Korea and Vietnam right after Thanksgiving. I wasn’t home much.

Before tackling all those travels, here’s a few highlights from at-home with the Bethells in the fall:

• The beginning of a long bathroom remodel
• Andee and Barron’s birthday cakes
• First annual Oktoberfest party
• Audrey’s first
• Taylor’s catch
• Halloween in Bend

 Taylor sideline with his high school coaches...GLORY DAYS!

 Could this little one be any cuter?

 Oh yeah, and we lived it up at a wedding with the Greenbergs, the best wedding dates ever!

 Colorado campus with some of the work crew.

 Flatiron hike with the team.

 Not a bad day at the office, if I do say so.

Andee wanted Strawberry Shortcake, and Barron wanted Navy Seals this year. A cake decorator I am not, but for some reason, this has become an annual tradition, and I just love being able to TRY to do whatever these kiddos want for their big days. Andee turned 4, and Barron turned 6. It feels like Les just had him!

 First annual Bethell Oktoberfest. Pretzel necklaces were a hit.

 Love this guy.

 Rainy Day blues for this duo.

 One day last fall, I was complaining that we can't see the sunrise or the sunset from our house. A few days later, Taylor called me out to this. A sure sign of God's presence, wouldn't you say. Breathtaking.

 Bowen and Otis savoring Bend in October, while the Davis duo + Bethells continued their Halloween hangout tradition.

 Speaking of Halloween, Taylor's mom sent over this pic of T as a little devil with his cousin back in the day.

 My Visa photo. Could be the Preppy Pearl Serial Killer, don't you think?!

The boys.