2 month stats:
11 lbs 2 oz (75%)
24.25 inches tall (97+%)
Dear Baby Bee,
On Sunday July 29, 2012 you were given a name and a blessing by your father. It was a special day for our family and you looked absolutely angelic in the blessing dress Grandma Noni crocheted especially for you. The dress fit you perfectly and we were glad Grandma was able to be there for the blessing. At the end of the blessing you sneezed right in to the microphone! You really are so cute, even when it's by accident. After the blessing we had lunch down on the pool patio with family and friends who were there to celebrate you. There is no doubt, little one, that you are loved.
I have a strong and abiding faith in and a testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which I have gained by the power and the manifestations of God.Tears flowed down both of our cheeks and your dad and I knew that she was a special person with a special name. The name Phoebe is feminine, strong, timeless, and we believe it suits you perfectly. It has a wonderful family heritage and we love that there will always be a historical landmark, the Bonner home in Midway, that will connect you to the physical place where grandma Phoebe lived. The name Phoebe means bright and shining one, and indeed you are my little one.
On Monday Bee and I drove down to Orem all by ourselves. As in, without BD. As in, someone put on their big girl pants and braved the 45 minute drive alone with an infant. Don't mind if I go ahead and pat myself on the back here. Momma can do hard things. Baby girl slept the whole entire way. Which means she wants to see her grandparents again! This is a good sign.
Posted by gina bina at 5:31 PM
Dear Baby Bee,
You were born at Salt Lake Regional Hospital in delivery room #5 on May 31st at 11:06 pm and weighed a healthy 8 lbs 7 oz and measured 18 inches long. We're pretty sure they shorted you a good two inches on your first measurement, but there is so much more to it than that...
On May 31st I was exactly 8 days overdue, meaning I was 41+ weeks pregnant. And miserable. You see, once expecting mommy's reach their expected due date they expect the baby will be born. Unexpectedly, that was not the case with you. Every day I went past my due date seemed like
5 10 20 more. I wanted so badly for my body to go into labor on its own, so I resisted being induced just for the sake of my own comfort. You would come when you were ready, I told myself over and over. The day before I waddled my big pregnant self into the hospital for a non-stress test, and fortunately everything was fine, we were both still handling the pregnancy well with no complications. Unfortunately, I was still pregnant and beginning to wonder if you would ever be born at all. I joked that because I wanted this pregnancy so badly Heavenly Father had blessed me with one of those rare Eternal Pregnancies.
I left the hospital feeling comforted that everything was fine. They had given me an ultrasound to measure the amniotic fluid (~12) which gave me a sneak peak of you on screen. You were definitely crammed tight in my belly, but I could make out a leg here and an arm there and your cute little profile. The ultrasound gave me renewed energy to wait it out a little longer. That afternoon I sat down by the pool and tried to read a book, but mostly I was daydreaming about you while trying to find a comfortable position to exist in.
By the time your dad came home that evening I was weepy and tired once more. We thought of ways to help induce my labor. I did 20 jumping jacks in the living room. We rode the elevator to the top floor and bounced down the 18 flights of stairs. Twice. Finally, we went swimming to help get my mind off it and eventually gave up and went to bed. I tossed and turned during the night and could tell that my body, not just my mind, was anxious too. I started to cry. I woke up your dad and he did his best to comfort me, even looking up statistics to show that 41 weeks was actually the average term length of healthy, uncomplicated pregnancies. Bless his heart. I wanted to kill him. And yet. I begged him to work from home the following day so I wouldn't have to be alone. He obliged and held me the rest of the night. Actually, he didn't. But he would have if I had let him.
In the morning it seemed my usual aches and pains were somehow even worse. I doubled over several times just walking around the house. I opted out of my daily morning walk and took a warm bath instead. My list of things to do before you were born was slowly growing shorter, but even still, I got dressed and headed out to the car dealership to have a spare key made. Wouldn't want to have a baby without a spare car key on hand, would we? As I was sitting in the waiting room lobby I slowed my focus to the contractions and the thought finally occurred to me that perhaps I was in labor. On the way home I admitted to myself that I was in a lot of pain. I told your dad that we should finish packing the hospital bag, just in case.
During the next hour I rocked on my exercise ball and we began timing my contractions (there's an app for that) only to realize they were starting about 5 minutes or less apart. Again I hesitated to believe I was actually in labor so I called Dr. Lash on his cell phone and explained what was happening. He chuckled, said it sounded like I was in labor and kindly suggested I go to the hospital - reassuring me that they would not turn me away at 41 weeks. He didn't have to tell me twice. We arrived at the hospital around 2:00 pm. You were going to be born in May after all!
|This picture is just embarrassing on many many levels. And yet, I'm putting it on the internet.|
I have about a thousand blog drafts about the birth story, the 4th of July, and mommyhood that are very nearly halfway done and waiting for me to give them 5 minutes of editing and a few pictures for good measure. But every time I attempt to sit at the computer my attention is directed elsewhere. I could/should be sleeping or at the very least hunting chocolate. Whoever said that new mommies shouldn't eat chocolate was dead wrong. New mommies require chocolate to survive.
Phoebe is 6 weeks old this very day and steals my heart about 100 times a minute. To celebrate, here is a little video of my burrowing baby that brings me joy. Very little of our lives could be considered "scheduled" these days, but our regular mornings consist of a stroller walk to the H-Rock with our neighborhood besties (so momma can get her talk on). Back at home we snuggle, nurse, and sing songs in the rocking chair until she's ready for a nap. When she's tired she burrows her head into my shoulder until she finds juuuuuuust the right place to fall asleep...like I said, 100 times a minute.