Every Day Life

I have this great post written in my head about how the transition to 3 has been easier than bringing home #1 or #2, but unfortunately, my free time is more limited these days (this post is brought to you by a sleeping newborn and Elmo the Musical) so here is the basic cliff notes version:

1. The boys are big enough to help. 

When we brought C home, he was helpless and I was sure that if I didn't watch him breathe, he would die. When we brought B home, I was worried that if I watched him breathe, I would hurt Cullen's feelings. Now, I can say things like "Cullen, watch your brother, I'm going to get dressed" and "B go get Mommy a diaper for the baby". I also spend very little time watching anyone breathe because if they are all sleeping, I've got things to do.

 2. We are more relaxed as parents.

-Baby needs to wake up between 9-10pm so he will sleep for a few hours at night. He doesn't appreciate when I wake him up, but now that I know better, I will pry those tight eyes open.

-We aren't afraid that public, or sun, will kill the baby.

-We let the boys 'play' with their brother instead of worrying that a little dirt or germy fingers is going to be harmful.

3. I suffer from Post Partum Elation. (A term given to me by Marie). 

In the picture below, I am 39 weeks and 4 days (he was born at 39 +6). I was miserable, but I can't actually remember it; Absolutely no recollection of how much I hated being pregnant (not to be confused with grateful for the ability to be pregnant). At the hospital, I laughed at one of Kev's jokes hours after Wells was born and Kev looked at me and said "Oh, it is so nice to have you back." 

Outfits from Janie and Jack and Monterey County Wine also help with this situation.

 4. Family, family, family.

I now understand why a lot of people move home, given the option. Having family around has made this transition 3902834509284 times easier than being on our own with C and B. The big boys have spent the night at my mom's the past 4 out of 5 Wednesdays, I have no shame in admitting that. I grew up spending several nights a month with grandparents and they are some of my fondest memories.  Meanwhile, my inlaws have brought over dinner every weekend and I love it. We are taking advantage of the help while we can. (And honestly, I think the grandparents might be having the most fun.)

Wells also got to meet Great Uncle Pete, Aunt Lori and cousin Mason last weekend.

And Great-Grandparents, my Oma and Opa

5. We are a better and more mature couple, and we have learned to trust our instincts.

I am not afraid to ask Kev for help. He's not afraid to tell me that he needs a minute to go for a run or take a break. We try our best not to compare who has the harder job in this situation. 

 We are now confident that we know what is best for our children, and that makes #3 a lot easier than 1 or 2, when we spent a lot of time freaking out about doing things 'right'.

Also, I still think he is the most handsome man in the world. 

6. When all else fails (the baby is crying, I am sleep deprived, Kev has a long day at work, no family is available to come help, Bennett won't poop on the potty, Cullen is being bosy...) I can send the boys downstairs to punch each other in the face play.

And that my friends, is why #3, so far, has been pretty dang easy. 

Hope you have a great long weekend and Happy Football Season!

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For more snapshots of every day life, you can follow me on Instagram - katedaffodils

Since I Claim To Be A Photographer...

I figured I should take a few newborn pictures of my own newborn. 

And for the sake of keeping things honest, here's what the majority of the session really looked like:

Daffodils Photography will be up and running again in September, so be sure to contact me for all your picturing needs. I have two pre-school tuitions to pay for, so please, book now. You can visit my facebook page for examples of my work or click here for pricing and session information.

Official Family Photos

Day 1

Day 3

Day 11

Kev's back at work since last Wednesday and we are working on finding our new normal (with lots of help from all the people who have helped me avoid cooking dinner, and my mom). I have had a few moments when I've realized I in no way have enough hands to wrangle 3 of them at once, but we have left the house several times and I have come back with all of them each time, so I say we are doing alright. 

More on life lately later this week. 

***

 I am glad you were just as moved by the Story of Welles as we were- several of you suggested that we contact the family and let them know- it is definitely in our plan to send them a birth announcement. 

***

I hope you are doing well; I have been reading and appreciating each and every comment over the past two weeks and will get back to everyone soon!

What's In A Name: The Story Behind Wells

In the Spring of 2012, Kev and I sat on our couch one night in Monterey, watching a repeat of an E:60 report honoring the heroes of 9/11. The first segment we saw was about a young man, a former Boston College lacrosse player, who at the age of 24 was working in the South Tower on that fateful day. He called his mother at 9am to let her know he was okay, and that was the last time his parents would ever hear his voice. Six months later, his body was found in the rubble, among several New York Firefighters and his parents were left devastated, not knowing how their son spent his final moments. 

In May of 2002, The NY Times wrote an article about several survivors who claimed to be saved by a man with a red bandanna. He came back to the 78th floor more than once to lead injured and shaken victims to the only working staircase and down to safety. Knowing that their son always, since he was a little boy, carried a red bandanna with him, the parents reached out to the survivors and learned that it was indeed their son who saved upwards of 12 people that day. 

His name was Welles.

*****

By the end of the 13 minutes, I was a crying mess and turned to Kev and told him that if we ever have another son, his name would be Welles. And then, many months later when we found out I was pregnant, it never occurred to me that this baby would be a girl. I just knew he would be a boy, our Wells, named after a man who showed courageous humility in his final hours, a virtue we can only hope to raise all of our sons with.

Here is the original video that inspired us to name our son- 

please find the time to watch it and honor this true American hero and his sacrifice which allowed others to live.

Wells Meets Everyone Else

One big difference in the past week compared to the first weeks of the boys' lives is that Wells has already met so many people who love him as much as we do. Cullen and Bennett were both born in North Carolina, so the opportunity for family and friends to come meet them right away wasn't quite as easy as it has been here, with all our families and many close friends near by.

Here is who Wells has met so far:

Both sets of grandparents within his first few hours of life

God Mother Aunt Katie at the hospital. She was Wells' first visitor.

 Several days with Marme

 (a bout of acne of day 3, but it quickly went away. We have another set of big blue eyes)

 My brother, Uncle Bummy on Day 3

Bummy's girlfriend Ms Kathleen 

 My youngest brother, Uncle Tommy had already left for college, but jumped on the train home on Day 4 to meet his God son.

 My older brother, Uncle JoJo and his girlfriend Caitlin on Day 4

 Kev's parents came back (and brought dinner) on Day 4

 Three generations of L men getting reading books. What lucky boys I have!

 My high school friends Ms Alysa and Ms Cate (and Mr John who didn't get a picture) on Day 5

 Great Grandma (who just got back from a week in the Bahamas, can you tell?) on Day 6. Four generations of family pictured here.

 Great-Grandpa Ray who told Wells 'I'll be havin ya drinking beer in no time.'

 Happy Hour on Day 6

Two great Uncles at my family's auto repair shop on Day 7 (I didn't get a picture with them, but all three boys have worn this shirt on their first visit to the shop.)

And on Day 7 our friends Mr Matt and Ms Shawn and their 3 boys brought over dinner and came to play.

I also had a neighbor, who I have never met, come over yesterday afternoon and introduce herself and bring dinner. She had seen me walking a few days ago and knew I was about to pop, then saw the Welcome Home sign on the door and thought she would bring us something. She has a 2 and 1 year old and is pregnant herself, so just taking the time to make dinner for a stranger was so nice.

We live in a wonderful world and continue to feel so incredibly blessed
(I know I am a broken record with this, but how could I not be?).

Wells Meets His Brothers

As I mentioned during the course of my pregnancy, one of the perks of #3 was not being afraid that I wouldn't have enough love to share with Wells or that his brothers would react negatively to his arrival.  But once again, my emotions surprised me when the boys actually met their little brother. 

Bennett's first words to me about Wells were "Aw, Mommy, our baby!" which sent my sister in law (and the rest of us) straight into tears in the hospital room. 

 Meanwhile, Cullen has assumed the role of double big brother with flying colors. The biggest jealousy issues we've dealt with are with C having meltdowns when too many people come to visit and he doesn't have a turn to hold Wells, and when W gets gifts but he doesn't (we have had a little Come to Jesus Meeting about that and it has gotten a bit better).

 Otherwise, they are having a great time with their brother,

 insisting that he take part afternoon outside time

and morning cuddles,

 and mid day chats

and check ups (I love this picture so much)

and definitely some evening snuggles

 We couldn't be prouder of our 'big boys' adjusting to their little brother,

 even when they fight over who gets to push the button on the vibrating chair.

 I couldn't feel more blessed to have these three boys as my own.

All Is Wells

(A Sort Of Birth Story, With A Title I Stole From My Mom)

Last Tuesday evening, I was becoming increasingly convinced that this baby was never coming out (a little dramatic, perhaps). My mom had just text me to let me know she was staying at her condo nearby for the night (my parents have still been splitting time with my grandmother since my Opa isn't out of the hospital yet) and I text her back saying that the baby was definitely not coming that night, so enjoy her time off from care taking all of us. 

Thirty minutes later I was doing an awkward happy dance in my kitchen because my water broke. 

Cullen, right on cue, asked 'Mommy, are you so happy because you are leaking?'

About three hours later, boys in bed and read to one last time as just two brothers, bags packed, shower taken, big bowl of ice cream had, plus Mom's arrival and surprise arrival by my dad who had been at my Oma's, Kev and I were off to the hospital at 11pm.

A sleepless night and lots of contractions later, it was morning and I wasn't progressing quite as quickly as we had thought I would. I opted to have an epidural at 9am after having a great experience with Cullen's and Bennett's. I was hoping the relief from pain would allow me some time to finally sleep and for my body to catch up.

Unfortunately, my epidural did not have the same plan. For some reason a 'window' was open on my left side and the medicine was unable to cover it. For two hours I laid on my side, trying to breathe through the immense amount of pain localized to that one spot. I am pretty sure I didn't say a word the entire time except It Hurts.

Finally, around noon, I felt like I wanted to push, so we called in the midwife and she said I could give it a go. I was the only person on the floor that day, so I ended up with an OB (who looked like he was 19, seriously, when did I become old?), a Navy Corpsman (who was actually 19), a midwife and my RN Mary who was amazing.

By this time, my faulty epidural had worn off and I could feel e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g (Dear Natural Childbirth Mother, GodBlessYou, Amen). If you know me in person, you know that I rarely get angry, but at one point the OB told me to keep pushing and yelled No, YOU get him out! because I honestly didn't think I was going to be able to do it. I had to push even when I wasn't contracting because our little man was so close but needed a little extra work and that was possibly the most difficult thing I have ever done.

Finally, with Kev on one side telling me I could do it, and Mary on the other telling me I had to do it, Wells was born.

They put him right up on my chest and at that moment didn't care about a thing in the world except for our beautiful perfect little boy that we had made. All the pain and 36 hours of sleeplessness dissipated into one overwhelming feeling of love. Even though I had been through those first moments twice before, there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can prepare you to hold that little miracle.

*****
It was hours later, in our Mother/Baby recovery room, after the (third) best shower of my life that bits and pieces from the labor came back to me. One of the best being that I recalled vaguely that during the difficult two hours, Kev, being the wonderful man that he is, had downloaded Mumford and Son's Live From RedRocks album on his phone to help distract me. At the moment when I wanted to give up pushing, I Will Wait was playing. Somehow, the words registered in my mind and I remember how long we were waiting and praying for our sweet angel.

And that is the song Wells came into the world hearing.


And I'll kneel down,
Wait for now
I'll kneel down,
Know my ground

Raise my hands
Paint my spirit gold
And bow my head
Keep my heart slow

'Cause I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

We waiting for you before we even knew you Wells, and we love you so very, very much.