We welcomed our newest love on November 29, 2011. Abel Bradley Brown was born at 11:58 AM weighing in at 7 lbs, 9 oz and measuring 21.25 inches long. Our hearts are so full.

Because I can barely remember if I ate breakfast, much less what happened last year, I need to record the birth story.  This is mostly for me, but since this is the world wide web, you’re welcome to read on.

I woke up at 6:02 AM.  I immediately told Doug that I was having contractions (plural), which makes me think that maybe I had been having them for a while, but had been sleeping through them and somehow subconsciously knew I was having them.  Right away, we started to time them.  They were about 7-8 minutes apart to start.  We laid in bed for about 1.5 hours timing pretty regular contractions.  I took a bath, thinking that if this wasn’t labor that maybe the hot water would help with the back pain.  The contractions continued.  I already had my weekly doctor’s appointment scheduled for 10 AM, so we just decided we’d wait till then to see if it was go-time.  Doug took Rhett to preschool (thank you God, for your perfect timing!) and we headed to the doctor.  Naturally, we stopped at Chick-fil-a on the way for breakfast.  I ate a chicken biscuit while trying to breath through contractions, and somehow enjoyed every bite of it.  We got to the doctor’s office around 9:45 AM.  I checked in and told them I thought I might be in labor. They very quickly got me in a room and my doctor came in and said “So, you’re having contractions?  What do you think?  Maybe 4 cm?”  I had had a false alarm two weeks prior, so I was a little gun-shy.  He checked and said, “The reason you’re feeling so crummy is because you’re at 8 cm.  We need to get you to the hospital.”  My doctor’s office is right across the street from the hospital, so they wheeled me across the street in a wheelchair (very dramatic).  Before I left, he told me that if I wanted the epidural that I would need to tell them right away because I didn’t have much time.  So, in the wheelchair on the way across the street, I decided that I wanted to go without the epidural (we’ve made a note to ourselves for next time – decide ahead of time, and take a class on how in the world to give birth).  We checked into the hospital at 10:30 AM.  For about an hour I had really intense contractions 2-5 minutes apart and then all the sudden my doctor’s crew arrived and it was time to start pushing.  I pushed 5 times and the newest Brown arrived at 11:58 AM.  Abel Bradley was here…and a BOY!  We were so surprised, but so thrilled.

Here are a few pictures from the big day.

Daddy and Rhett on Abel’s birthday

This picture was immediately after checking in at the hospital.  The last picture of my second pregnancy.

And here is what we came for…

Our first picture as a family of four (excuse Daddy’s sleepy eyes)

And finally, we were amazed at how much Rhett and Abel looked alike as newborns.  Brothers!  Rhett is on the left, Abel on the right.

Welcome, Baby Abel.  We are so glad you came.

Baby Brown #2 is officially baked.  We have a pretty wide range of emotions around here – some panic, some fear, but mostly really ready to meet this little one.  His/her room is just about prepared for the arrival and diapers have already been unpacked and put in their appropriate place – a rookie parent mistake we made with Rhett (picture good intentions of giving a newborn his first clean diaper at home, not realizing we hadn’t unpacked any diapers until he was fully unclothed, leading to his first of many room christenings).

I am going to the doctor weekly now, and at my last appointment my doctor said that the little turkey will likely be here before Thanksgiving (that’s two weeks from today, if dates aren’t your thing).  That’s a story we’ll continue to track.

And now, for another belly photo.

Last week, we transitioned Rhett out of the crib and into a big boy bed.  Not just any big boy bed though.  A big boy bed made by hand by handy-dandy Doug.  Doug has been wanting to build a piece of furniture for a long time, and when we started our hunt for a new bed for Rhett, we found that they were way too expensive for the kind of quality that we felt like we needed to last for a long time.  The Browns are long-term planners – we wanted a bed that Rhett could tell his fraternity brothers that he’d been sleeping on since before he was 2 years old.  So, Ikea was out of the question and Restoration Hardware was out of the budget.  Instead, we perused this website: Ana White Homemaker.  She has a lot of DIY plans for furniture of varying difficulty.  We finally chose this bed.  And Doug got to work while Rhett and I stayed comfortable inside.

The finished product with the builder and the sleeper

We set up the bed in his room and let him get used to it for about a week before we let him try sleeping in it.  The first naptime was a disaster.  He immediately fell out of the bed, crawling over the rails.  Two days later, we successfully tried again.  He slept for about 2 hours (about an hour shorter than his usual naps) and I heard him awake before he had a chance to get out.

The napper

Good nappers deserve ice cream

That night did not go so well.  We put him in his bed (after clearly communicating expectations of him not getting out), but he quickly realized the freedom he’d been given.  He used the opportunity to unload a toy box, go through his dirty laundry and unplug and hide his nightlight.  After about 30 minutes of correcting him, and then hearing more banging around, it was quiet.  After 15 minutes of silence, Doug snuck in to find him back in his bed, fast asleep.  I was shocked, as I had been prepared to let him sleep on the floor if he fought the bed too much.

Things changed at about 4 AM.  After hearing what he thought was someone breaking into the house, Doug jumped up out of bed (for some reason, in my middle-of-the-night delusion, I thought he was starting laundry – so I wasn’t worried).  He stood at the top of the stairs and then heard something that made him realize that Rhett was awake too, in addition to the robbers (Browns don’t think clearly at ungodly hours).  After a couple seconds of panic, Doug found Rhett in his bathroom…in the sink.  In the middle of the night, Rhett had taught himself how to reach and turn a doorknob, and then walked down the hall into the new baby’s room and into their shared bathroom, climbed onto the toilet, and onto the countertop, and in the sink.  The noise Doug heard that he thought were the bad guys was just a candle that Rhett had knocked off the countertop.  I was unable to pull myself together after the fear of what could have happened set in.  So, we let Rhett sleep the rest of the night in his crib.  The next day, we made Rhett’s room into a small prison for children – childproofing everything.

The next night’s sleep was successful.  Slept all night until woken up around 8 AM.  Here he is waking up from his first night’s sleep in his big bed.

Since then (one week ago), Rhett has transitioned well…with one exception.  A few nights ago, we heard him banging around before falling asleep (a routine that we haven’t figured out how to manage yet, but usually lasts only about 15 minutes).  This time though, I sensed that something was different and asked Doug to go check on him.  Moments later, I hear Doug running around upstairs yelling for Rhett.  Turned out, he had somehow gotten into his bathroom again, (maybe I didn’t close it all the way), and had gotten into the toilet.  Soaking wet.  Even his hair was wet.

My dad responds to this behavior with a laugh and a “he’s just a boy, he’s got to explore.”  To this, I must ask what in the world I would do if we had another boy?  I mean, I know I wouldn’t be the first mom to have two boys.  There are a few others out there.  But how?  How do you manage brothers?  With one boy, I am ready for us to move into a bounce house with no sharp corners, no concrete, no toilets or bathtubs for inquiring minds.

We haven’t entered the days of child-induced public humiliation yet,  but I am certain my days are numbered.

In preparation, I just read this blog post.  It was written by a Baylor grad who has two kiddos with physical differences.  She has some incredibly wise advice for teaching your children how to interact with others with physical or mental difference.

If you have small children, this is well worth your time.

To the writer, thank you so much for your wisdom and candor.  While praying for our son to treat others well and see their God-given value, this helps give us direction as we aim to parent well.

I could have gone without June 8, 2011.

No offense to my Canadian friend, Erin, who is celebrating her birthday today.  As I was thinking about her this afternoon, I thought that today would be a great day to celebrate a birthday – it’s only 101 degrees in June, there’s a new opening on the Today show, and no recent news on Charlie Sheen.  Not a bad day to celebrate your birthday.

These thoughts were interrupted by a little squealer at about 2:15 PM.  I went upstairs to check on him and walked in to what I hope is the most disgusting thing I will have to deal with as a parent.

Poop painting.

Baby Houdini has gone to another level.  He took his diaper off.  Pooped.  And began using it as paint.  And yes, even face paint.  I’ve never felt so disgusted at my little, uh, angel.  I spared myself (and you) from any pictures to remember this atrocious moment, except this one, just to give you a little smidgen of the horror.

I immediately picked him up and put him in the bathtub.  For those of you that have this misfortune in your future, I recommend letting the specimen (your child) soak in warm water, while you grab your rubber gloves (*don’t leave baby unattended in bathtub*).  Then drain the water, and start over.  Repeat as necessary.

As I picked him up out the bathtub, I told him “I forgive you, but that was so disgusting.  And I will have no problem sharing this story at your rehearsal dinner.”  The threat didn’t seem to resonate.  But, I feel sure it will one day.

My mom asked, “Did you just laugh when you walked in?”  If you are wondering the same thing, the answer is an emphatic “no.”  To laugh upon walking in on that, you would either have to be a grandparent or crazy…and right now, I am not sure of the difference.  No, I didn’t laugh.  I am sure I will one day.  But not today.  Not June 8th.

As a note of thanks, I would like to offer a HUGE thank you to my friend, Mandy, who warned me that children can do this.  Do your friends a favor, and pass this on to any new parents, or prospective parents, so that if and (dare I say) when this happens, they won’t think they’ve given life to a devil child.

Listen, I don’t want to talk about how long it’s been since I have posted.  It’s ungodly, I’m aware.  So, in an attempt to gracefully get back into this thing, I shall update you on what it has been like to be Brown for the past two months (ugh).

Doug and I had a super romantic vacation to Napa Valley in March.  We stayed in Yountville (curiously famous for their restaurants), Healdsburg (a town with a square – which all towns need) and Carmel (not in Napa Valley, but for nostalgia’s sake).  It was perfect.  Everything.  The places we stayed, the food we ate, the wine we drank.  It was all a dream.  And for me and Doug, we remembered that we like each other.  Not that we had really forgotten, but there’s something about spending one-on-one time for an entire week and realizing that you would choose that person over anyone else to do it all over again with.

Cakebread Cellars

Super famous bakery that was directly behind our hotel.  If you’re a Today Show watcher, you see the NY version in the Plaza of this quaint cutie.

A surprise “Anniversary Package” from Gigi and Pops in Healdsburg.  Included breakfast in bed, bottle of champagne, flutes to take home, and a stuffed animal – such a funny addition, but Rhett loves his Goober Bear.  A huge thank you to Gigi and Pops for such a sweet surprise.

Doug loves cars.  Not really my thing, but marathoning isn’t really his thing.  So, we learned to make a few compromises on this trip.  On our way to Carmel, we stopped by the Laguna Seca Raceway.  We walked for miles and miles (uphill both ways) to see this beautiful stretch of pavement.  The highlight, for Doug, was this part right here.  In the biz, they call this “The Corkscrew.” 

The view from our room at Bernardus Lodge in Carmel Valley.  This was, by far, the nicest hotel I have ever seen.  It was totally immaculate, which explains why we stayed here just one night.  And yes, we played Bocce Ball.  And yes, I won.

And for old time’s sake, we went to the rocks on Carmel Beach where we got engaged.

Seven days with my hunkity.  Never fought.  Enjoyed every moment.  We were able to video chat with Rhett (who stayed at our house with a healthy rotation of grandparents) a few times.  We missed him, for sure.  But, it was surprisingly easier on us than we had expected.  A huge thank you to The Grands for taking such good care of our peanut while we vacationed.

So, yes, turns out that our vacation was also…uh…productive.

Yes siree.  Baby Brown #2 is due to arrive on December 2, 2011.  This sonogram was done at just 5 weeks.  The baby was only 3mm long and we were still able to see the heartbeat.  Really unbelievable.  We are completely thrilled, and sometimes horrified.  I have to remind myself that people have had two kids for thousands of years and done well.  I just dont know how they do it.  Which kid do you get out of the car first?  When do you ever sleep?

As for me, I am feeling pretty good.  My pregnancy with Rhett was a breeze.  This one, however, has been a little different.  I have only had one day of sickness, but it was the pits.  I have no idea how people handle that for weeks on end.  Other than that, just extreme fatigue.  Definitely more tired than I remember being with Rhett.  Gigi is convinced it’s a girl.  For us, we’ve decided not to find out the gender this time.  Doug didn’t want to find out with Rhett, so he wins this time.

I’m not showing yet, so no belly shots for now…maybe ever.

As for Rhett, he is growing like a weed.  He’s walking like a wild man.  Doing a lot of blabbing, but no real words yet.  He has crazy, unruly hair.  And continues to be the greatest delight in our home.

How’s that for an update?

Dear Rhett,

One year ago today, my life changed forever.  You made your grand entrance at 5:56 AM.  You were squealing like a baby bird, and I held you in my tired arms and told you that you were safe and that I loved you. I couldn’t believe that I was holding my son.  It was pretty surreal, almost numbing.  I had carried you in my belly all these months and wondered what you were going to look like and if you would have my nose or Daddy’s eyes.  And then, you arrived.  And it didn’t matter to me what you looked like, the only thing that mattered in that moment was that you were here and that you were finally in my arms.  I wish I could bottle that moment and experience it all over again, anytime I wanted.

The year has flown by and it’s hard to believe that there was a day that you weighed less than 7 lbs and you could lie on top of a diaper rag and not move when I laid you down.  There have been so many lessons and so many moments that I want to remember for the rest of my life.

Since you arrived, I have learned what it means to really put someone else first.  You took the front seat in our home (but not in our car) this year, Buddy.  There was never a decision that was made without you in mind.   It’s been a good lesson, coming from someone who has primarily thought of herself for a vast majority of her life.  All the sudden, the most important things in the world to me were less about me and more about making sure you felt safe and loved.

I’ve learned once again how to love deeply in spite of fear.  This lesson started when I got Bagby five years ago.  I picked her from a breeder and took her home, and within a few days, I remember thinking, “What have I done?”  I loved Bagby and I was overtaken by fear that something would happen to her.  And then your Daddy came along and the fear I had with Bagby paled in comparison to the thought of losing Daddy.  And then there’s you.  Rhett, I cannot bear the thought of living a single day without you.  Yet, because I am a child of God, and not bound by fear, I am able to love you fully and with freedom and great joy that I have been given this gift of a son.  I have learned to steward my time with you, as a gift and a pleasure and not a duty or responsibility.

There’s nothing quite like watching a baby develop from birth to one year.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t marvel at what a God we serve that you knit you together perfectly, from the inside out.  You are the most beautiful baby I have ever seen.  (I know a lot of parents say that, but I think we all know they don’t really mean it.)  Your personality is developing and with great anticipation, we wait until we’re able to understand what it is that you feel so strongly about – what you like, what you hate, what you think is funny, and what you think is silly.

Rhett, your first year has been the best year of my life so far.  It has been challenging, for sure, but the reward of having you in our family is far greater.  I hope more than anything that as you grow older, and you make good and bad decisions, and we get to congratulate you and discipline you, I hope that in your best memories and your worst memories, you always know how much I love you, and how much being your mother has brought me more joy than any other experience in my life.  You are my delight.  I love you so much, Rhett.

Love,
Momma

(Note: this post was written last Friday.  I just woke up from my third consecutive night’s sleep.  I’m no longer complaining.)

I’m not complaining.  I stand by the claim that I’ve made ninety times…we have the easiest baby.

But, now, I will complain for one brief moment.  These past two weeks have been rough.  I think this is teething (still no teeth yet), but all the sudden the kid wakes up 3 or 4 times during the night screaming.  I’ve tried waiting out the fuss.  I’ve tried changing his diaper.  I’ve tried Tylenol.  I’ve fed him.  I’ve tried turning his bathroom light on.  I’ve rocked him.  Nothing works.  And it just kills me.  But, something just won’t let him sleep.

That to say, I feel like 10 months later, I have a newborn.  I am so tired.  I wake up at 7:00, and do everything I can to peel myself off the couch by 10:00.  My eyes sting all day.  Three cups of coffee hasn’t done the trick.  I cried watching the Von Trapp children sing on Oprah.  I am pitifully beat.

This sleep deprivation has led to two events in the past 24 hours that have necessitated two things – tears and a photograph.

Rhett had a bottle and left about 1 oz.  I saved the 1 oz. to make oatmeal with later.  Going back for the ounce, I looked high and low in the fridge.  Turns out, I didn’t put it in the fridge.  Nope.  I put milk in the cabinet, right where it belongs in the powder form.

Secondly, I burned a chicken nugget.  I repeat, I burned a chicken nugget.  I take pride in my kitchen savvy.  But said savvy is no match for sleep deprivation.  Even the chicken nugget didn’t stand a chance.

By the way, my good friend from graduate school, Katie, has a new infant sleep consulting business.  If you’re in a bad way, she’s a good person to talk with.  She offers home visits in the Austin area, or email and phone packages as well.

The lessons of a new mom seem endless- how to type with one hand, how to change a diaper without getting whizzed on, how to squeeze a shower in before my husband gets home from work…but most of all, how to do all these things while suffering from sleep deprivation.

Now, I know that I can’t really complain.  Rhett has been a pretty easy baby.  Most often, I feed him late at night (around 11), then he has a feeding in the middle of the night (around 3 or 4) and then wakes up to start it all over again around 6:45 AM.  He goes down pretty easily, and doesn’t usually cause a big fuss.  That said, I still love to sleep like a college student – an average of 8-10 hours a night – a luxury that vanished on December 18th.

Fast forward to last night.  Rhett was seven weeks, two days old.  I fed him for his last feeding at 11:15, putting him down at midnight.  I fell asleep seconds before my head hit the pillow and didn’t wake up till 6:20 to realize that Rhett was still sound asleep and as far as I could tell, hadn’t made a peep in more than 6 hours!  It wasn’t until 7 AM that my little cowboy started to stir.

I’ll be the first to say that I have been the grateful recipient of some pretty amazing gifts…but, six consecutive hours of sleep for a new (exhausted) mom…it’s hard to beat.