To go private, that is.
I know, I know. So annyoing.
I need to protect my little family. I'm not sure how I will be going about this yet, but it will happen soon. I will maintain this blog and will also be creating another blog. I will keep you informed as to what and when.....
In the meantime, if you want to be included leave me a comment or email me at juliedecoria@gmail.com.
"Update your blog. It's boring."
To which I replied, "Pfft!"
I've been busy. I've been packing, cleaning, feeding, organizing, napping, teaching, reading, singing, driving, traveling, mothering, wife-ing, calling, texting, paying, sorting, crying, running, playing, loading, and moving. Like I even have time to do a proper update.
I will. In, like, a week.
But for now, I need to sleep. Cause I'm tired. My baby is tired. And we are moving to Washington tomorrow. Wish us luck. Say prayers for us. We really, really need them.
16 months,
483 days,
Hundreds of car trips,
8 months of heavy winter,
Dozens of broken promises,
Millions of prayers,
Hundreds of tears,
Thousands of smiles,
6 homes,
And 1 child.....
We are moving.
Tri-Cities, Washington will now be home. 
This blog is lacking substance as of late.
That's gonna change.
Cause I've got stuff to say.
And news to share.
But not right now. Cause I'm tired.
We blessed Olivia at my mom's house last week. Brandon's parents came down for the occasion and it was absolutely perfect. Brandon did such an amazing job and gave such a beautiful blessing. I am so grateful for a husband who hold the priesthood and for the amazing father and husband that he is.
Before the blessing, I sang "Daughter of a King." I tend to get smidge emotional when I am singing for things/occasions/people that are close to my heart. I was a mess when I sang at our wedding. I held it together pretty well until the very end when B and I locked eyes, he smiled, and looked down at our baby girl. I came unglued.
There are no words to express what it is to have a child. I was overwhelmed with gratitude to Heavenly Father for trusting us with this little spirit who has waited such a long, long time to get here. I am terrified to fail her, I know she is such an important little one. My love for her has ignited in me a flame to overcome, to thrive, to teach, to know, to testify, and to endure.
So.
Brandon and I have had some very definite opinions about vaccinations for Olivia. (So NOT going to get into it here.) To make a very long story short, we decided (and were advised) that because of Olivia's laryngomalacia she at least needed to have the whooping cough vaccine.
Ok. Fine. We guess.
Yeaaah. Not so much.
One shot= Mama in hysterics and the daddy having to leave the room as to not wallop the nurse.
Never. Again. No more. We were far too traumatized.
My goodness, we love her. Olivia is just such a unique little person. We absolutely adore her. Numerous times a day we find ourselves staring down at her, watching her, laughing at her, and just simply loving her. What was life like before her? We aren't really sure. But we are so in love with her we can't imagine ever not having her.
*Olivia has figured out that she can suck on her fingers, and this makes her one happy squeaker...however, once the fingers are in there she hasn't figured out that she has to KEEP them there to be happy.
*She is a bit of a licker. Hold her, she licks your shoulder. Give her a kiss, she licks you. Put a toy by her mouth, sure enough, she licks that, too. She sticks out her tongue in response to almost everything. Her little mouth is always going, going, going.
*She growls while she eats, prompting the hubby to say, "Stop yelling at your food!"
*Olivia does not so much like the tummy time. It is only bearable for her if she is laying on my tummy.
*She still squeaks. A lot.
*She rubs her eyes when she is tired, a gesture that melts this mama's heart, prompts me to drop everything and snuggle this sleepy baby.
*Liv still prefers to sleep in her car seat or swing. Occasionally, she enjoys the freedom of sprawling out, but generally prefers to be swaddled, snuggled, and cozy.
Megan of Remarks from Sparks makes these awesome prints found here. They are awesome. I seriously love these prints. She is having a giveaway on her blog. Go. Enter. Enjoy.
Last weekend Livi and I headed down to Utah. It was a welcome break from the ridiculousness that is Wyoming. (I do not love Wyoming.) It was so good to catch up with friends, spend time with the Sleeza's, Aunties and cousins, Grandma, and Uncpa.
Oh how I love these girls. Lindsey invited Hana and I over one night to catch up and meet each other's babies (or puppy in Lindsey's case). I finally got to meet Hana's darling hubby, Nic, and darling baby, Hendrix. Can I just say I could not be more impressed or happier for this cute family? They are amazing and they set the bar pretty high as to what we all should strive for. I adore Hana and she is such an amazing mother and such an inspiration. Love, love, love her.
I also got to meet Linds's little Lulu and her "friend," Robert. Again, could not be more impressed. Seriously. Linds is an incredible girl with incredible things going for her. I am so blessed to have these two as dear friends.
Aunt Michelle. Gosh we love her. She had us all over to bake cookies. Always a lot of laughter, always a good time.
Olivia was having some serious gas issues that weekend. Very serious. Case in point: The picture above. This is what you get when you catch Liv mid "foosy."
Olivia and Katie bonded over foot art. Batman, of course, for Grandpa Matt. Always, always missing him.
There was lots and lots of napping....
with Auntie Haley.......
We went to Benihana where Livi tasted her first....
piece of sushi! (Ok, maybe not. At least not yet anyway.)
We got in some bonding time with Auntie Sara, who Liv found totally hilarious. Liv snuggled right up to her and promptly fell asleep. I miss this girl. We laughed a lot. We laughed some more. Talked about our darling husbands. It's always a good day when I get to see Sara.
And she made friends with Ashley's daughter, Harper. I adore Ashley. I have relied on her advice more times than I can even count this last year. She has amazing wisdom and killer insight. She is open minded, kind, receptive, and completely grounded. I was in awe watching her with Harper. She has a gift when it comes to motherhood. To say she is an amazing mother does not do her justice. She has set a breathtaking example of what a mother should be and I hope to be able to follow her lead.
We love being amused by cousin Brian. He's a hoot and fairly harmless, despite what this picture implies.
This is my squeaky baby.
No, she isn't fussy. Olivia has laryngomalacia and this is what it sounds like...when she is calm. She sounds like this (or worse). All. Day. Long. Even in her sleep. I tried to show how deeply her throat sinks in when she breathes, but couldn't quite get it.
I am often asked if she is sick or upset, she isn't. She isn't even much of a crier. Although, when she does cry, she turns a little blue because her little larynx keeps getting smaller and smaller. Small larynx=no breath. I think she realizes this and makes it a point to get her point across fast when she is upset and avoid a blue pallor.
The problem SHOULD go away somewhere between 18-24 months. I hope. Doesn't it wear you out just listening to her?
Even though I hate that she has breathing issues, they have become a source of comfort. So long as she is squeaking we know she is ok and she is happy.
And really, that is all that matters.
Since the last post is super long here are just some pictures since that's really all anyone wants to see anyway.
I woke up Saturday morning in a markedly foul mood. I was miserable. I was fat. I was a bit depressed. I wanted Brandon home. I wanted to yell at everybody. I felt like I was coming down with something. And I swear my face had doubled in size in the last 24 hours. I was in no mood to be awake. Within a half hour of rolling out of bed I was back in bed. Most of the day was spent like that; sleeping, grumbling, and complaining.
Brandon called me on his way to work for our usual chat. He could tell I was beyond miserable and urged me to get of the house, to do something to cheer myself up. I was starving, it was just me and my step-dad at home, so I coaxed him into going and getting some sushi. The meal was delicious and uneventful. Always good company, Dan and I chatted and enjoyed the food.
On the way home, around 7:00 pm, Dan needed to stop at the grocery store so I dropped him off and decided to go rent a couple of movies. I waddled my way over to Blockbuster and just as I walked in the door I felt a slightly odd, wet feeling. The manager behind the counter asked me if I was alright since I was very clearly, very pregnant and I had just stopped dead in my tracks with my mouth wide open.
"Um, can I use your bathroom?" I squeaked.
Sensing my urgency, she practically ran to the bathroom, nearly barreling over a few customers in the process.
Sure enough, my water broke. Do not panic, I am fine. I am fine. I am. Fine. B is still in Wyoming. I am fine. Holy fire. I had not been feeling any consistent or painful contractions that day, so I was stunned, to say the least. I ran- as fast as a 39 weeks pregnant lady can- out to my car, fumbling for my phone, and the manager yelling, "Good luck!" as I hurled myself through the doors to pick up Dan.
I called Brandon. "Honey, I think my water just broke." He responded with several strains of, "Really?" and "Serious?" After reassuring him that I was "really serious," he headed out to make the 6 hour drive here.
I was shockingly calm as Dan and I went to the hospital, which was slammed with lots of other mommies giving birth and going into labor at the same time I was. They set me up in a temporary room until I could be checked to make sure my water, had in fact, broken and for a room to be cleared out. There was a major shortage of help that night, as all the nurses and doctors had their hands full with other frantic mommies and babies, and it was a full hour and a half before a resident, very much resembling Rivers Cuomo of Weezer, came in to check me. I was still only dilated to a 1, my contractions were 3 minutes apart, this baby girl was definitely coming.
I finally met my doctor, Dr. Hardin, just before they took me into another room. There was a lot of meconium in my water and the doctor was concerned about Olivia aspirating the meconium during delivery and suggested they use a pump to clean out the amniotic fluid before I actually delivered. He then asked how quickly I wanted to proceed, advising me not to use pitocin if I didn't absolutely need it. I told him I needed to last at least until Brandon could get there which would be around 1 am. Dr. Hardin chuckled and reassured me that it was very doubtful that I would have this baby before daylight hours. He checked me again, barely dilated to a 2, and told me to relax.
Minutes later I was moved to another room, the contractions were becoming slightly more intense every few minutes. They were beginning to take my breathe away and I had to quit talking and focus on breathing through them. I started shaking and feeling the need to vomit with every contraction. Am I just being a wuss? They can't be this bad already. I am only at a 2! I told myself just to suck it up as long as possible, but not even 5 minutes later I asked for the epidural.
The doctor came in to hook me up to the pump to help clean my amniotic fluid. To spare the gory details, the process was nearly unbearable. After it was over, the doctor told me I had gone from 2 to a 7 in less than an hour and it was no wonder I was in such agony. I didn't even have the epidural yet. I silently "Hurrah!"ed to myself that wasn't just a wuss loser who couldn't handle the pain...it was really that bad. (I made it to a 7 for crying out loud, even though I had no idea I was that far along!) Dr. Hardin apologized that his 17 years experience of delivering babies didn't help him better predict that my labor would go as fast as it was.
Nearly 2 hours had passed since I had requested the epidural. I was starting to panic. The contractions were only a minute and a half apart. I barely had time to recover from one before the next one would begin. I wasn't sure how much I could take. I said a silent prayer, begging for the anesthesiologist to "be here" in 1 minute. It felt like such a childish prayer, and in essence I suppose it was, but not even 10 seconds later, the nurse walked in and announced the anesthesiologist was wheeling his cart down the hallway. If I didn't have a testimony of the power of prayer before that, I certainly did now.
Forty-five minutes later, the epidural was over and was kicking in and, as Dan put it, I was there to testify that there was better living through chemistry. Epidurals are amazing. Science is awesome.
Shortly after 1 am Brandon made it. I have never been so happy to see someone in all my life. I couldn't stop kissing him. I was SO glad he made it. An hour after he got there, I was fully dilated and ready to push.
After 40 minutes of pushing, a few socially inappropriate jokes (but some how very appropriate for the situation) by Dr. Hardin and Olivia Jane DeCoria was here! Barely over 8 pounds, much to my relief, and nowhere near the almost 10 pounds my OBGYN had predicted.
She was struggling to breathe at first, which we later learned was because she has laryngomalacia. Her larynx is underdeveloped and makes breathing difficult when she is worked up, excited, mad, sad, just about anything that involves crying. Her condition also makes her squeak, nearly all the time, even in her sleep. But somehow this has only made her more endearing to us. She will eventually grow out of this as she gets older and her larynx toughens up, but for now, every little noise or lack there of has me checking to make sure she is breathing ok.
There are no words to describe the rush of emotions felt when they lay your baby on your chest. It is something so many mothers have tried to do with much difficulty and now I understand.
As I looked down at her and then up at my sweet husband, I felt so complete. This was so right. I knew her so completely and thoroughly, I recognized her being, her light, her sweet spirit. There is an added element of tenderness in my life that wasn't there before, that I didn't even know was missing, and that I know now I could never live without.
The love of this little family is overwhelming. I had no idea how deeply I would feel after having her. I love more fiercely than I could have ever imagined, this little family of mine. I am so consumed by emotion for my husband and sweet baby that it often brings me to tears, as I have yet to learn to navigate the intensity of how I feel.
I could not have picked a more perfect man to be my husband and the father of my children. He is completely wonderful and amazing as I watch him step into the shoes of a father. There are no words adequate enough to express my love for him. I am so grateful to be walking this journey with him, learning, growing, and progressing as a family, loving our daughter more and more every single day. We love her more than we ever imagined was possible. And even in the midst of all the chaos and turmoil in this world, somehow, everything is as it should be.
Olivia Jane DeCoria made her entrance Sunday August 30, 2009 at 2:42 am.I had an ultrasound Tuesday.
Olivia is big.
Real big.
9 lbs 13 oz.
Or so they think.
Dr. B thinks its best to evict her.
So that's what we are doing.
We are evicting Livi.
On Wednesday.
Nervous?
Yes, I am.
Excited?
Yes, I am!
Pray for my hips.
Please.
Our little bean has made a habit of growing too fast and then slowing down, resulting in extra ultrasounds to make sure all is well. So far, she is just big and tall. This mama really shouldn't be shocked, but still is a little bit.
The existence of sleep is making an early exit. Too much to think about? Too much to anticipate? Practice for upcoming months? Olivia getting hiccups every time I lie down or roll over?
Perhaps, all of the above.
My attitude has been a bit, well, poopy...for lack of a better word. I had got into the bad habit of cursing my belly, its big and awkward shape, its immense discomfort, often referring to it as my "dang belly." That is until B pointed out, "You call it "dang," but its her mode of life and her home." Well, shoot. When he puts it like that, how can I not appreciate it? Thank goodness for a husband who can put things into perspective for me, as my perspective has broken.
My body is slowly making progress. Her bed is assembled, her bag is packed, her car seat waiting....Hopefully by Tuesday after the ultrasound we will know a little more of when to anticipate her arrival. But for now, we are just waiting, waiting...waiting...waiting...
I haven't loved having my picture taken while being pregnant, and I wasn't too sure how I felt about having professional pictures done while so large and rotund, but since my mom was the professional and the little Sleeza was the darling assistant it was ok and totally worth it. I am so glad I did them.
There are so many more, but they involve my bare belly....and I'm not to sure I want to put my bare belly on the internet. So for now, you only get the one....
I am sad and dismayed that this day has finally arrived. After 6 years, this......
has finally died. My fan has died.
Sleep has never been my friend. Insomnia being a continuous and ongoing factor in my life I was delighted to have discovered the beauty that is white noise. I stumbled upon the fan in hopes of cooling my bedroom in the hot summer months and discovered that its purposes were multiple. It kept me cool and drown out the noisy silence that would often wake me in the night, sabotaging any semblance of a good nights sleep. I could no longer sleep without it.
After B and I got married, he quietly protested the use of my fan for a week or two until he himself was coaxed into slumber by that wonderful white noise. He is as hooked as I am.
Two months ago, the fan's motor starting making this awful, sickening grinding noise when I turned it on. I knew the end was close. But I managed to coax 60-some-odd nights of use out it by fiddling with the wires, turning it upside down, and basically beating the thing until it produced my desired noise. But last night....it was no more. After 6 years, 11 moves, and every night usage the fan has finally died.
I have had to revert to the back-up fan, a much larger version of this same fan with a sound that resembles more that of a turbo jet engine than a fan. But I need my fan. I really do.
Why so sentimental that I would devote an entire blog post to it? I really have no idea. But I am really that sad about it.
(And for the record....I have cleaned the fan about a bazillion times, but it only takes about 3 days for it to look like this again. I'm not gross, I swear it.)
Most people know I am a lover of books, a lover of things lovely, and a lover of things haunting. The Lovely Bones is all of these. I first read The Lovely Bones while living in New Jersey and the story of Susie Salmon has stayed with and haunted me ever since. The perspective, the story, and the language of the book made an impression on me, leaving the book a permanent staple in my collection. It is a gorgeously told story, one I will return to again and again. I am excited to see this complex novel come to life, to visually see the story told (through Peter Jackson's eyes, no less!) and see the characters come to life. I think it is going to be stunning.
Oof. I feel obese. When my friend Brittney was still pregnant, she mentioned something about feeling like a sea-cow. I think that's a pretty adequate statement. I'm getting to the end, and I'm getting tired and sloth-like. But I am so very excited about the end result! 8 more weeks folks....8 more weeks.
And the downward looking view......
Traveling between Wyoming and Colorado, camping, swimming, lounging...we are breaking her in early, hoping she will one day appreciate the "good stuff." Grandma's and aunties have wasted no time in spoiling her with blankets and clothes, all the caliber of cuteness that tends to get lost on men.
She has a tutu. B is concerned this may distract her from fishing. I tell him its not a problem; she will wear the tutu fishing.
Her legs and arms are getting so strong and she is learning to use them. Olivia has no problem kicking me in the ribs when my posture isn't just so.
I count down the days as I watch my feet disappear, crossing my fingers that I will see them again one day. More body parts are swelling and puffing up to unexplainable sizes. No matter...we are so excited to meet her, it seems a small price to pay.
I want to get really mad.
And throw things.
And scream.
And stomp my feet.
And yell obscenities.
And kick the door.
And do the "ugly cry."
And growl.
Till my face turns red.
But I don't.
Cause there is not point.
It won't get me anywhere, anyway.
And I act like a mature adult.
But boy, do I really want to.
It's not easy to forget, nor is it hard to ignore what this is....
A garbled, tangled, mess. That's what it is.
The last 365 days, breathing in, breathing out. Waiting, waiting, waiting. That isn't to say that this garbled, tangled, mess isn't valid. Its very valid.
It has made us stronger. And if that is not the point, I'm not sure what is.
As husband and wife, we prayed, we inquired, we knowingly walked this road, but still not knowing that this road would extend so far. We've had no warnings. But we have had blessings. Blessings that I pick up along the way and carry in my hands, careful not to crush them. The tender mercies, the added sweetness to our marriage, the appreciation we may not have discovered otherwise, all protected, guarded, and cared for. Things that tell me, that tell us, that all this sacrifice has not gone unnoticed by Him.
We are being cared for.
And while this garbled, tangled, mess weaves in unpredictable patterns, new doors are appearing. New windows are opening. As exciting or new as they may seem, they scare me no less than what is happening now, but I remember that we are solid, we are happy, we are not unnoticed.
We are being cared for.
lindsey: cause she is awesome. and i've known her, like, a bazillion years. and she is hysterical and honest. i can count on her for anything. and she is a bestie, a sister, and a kindred spirit.
nichelle: cause we may as well be related. she gets it. ALL of it. and i love her for that. and her heart is fantastically huge. and she says its "ok" when i'm being melodramatic. and i'm pretty sure she has super powers.
sara: cause she is solid and unwavering. we laugh at nothing and bond over documentaries. she is my little ball of sunshine. And she will listen to me...for hours. she is amazing.
steve: cause its hard not to love this mug. he is honest. he not only listens but he actually HEARS what you say. he is ridiculously hysterical. and he is just an all around good egg.
Exhausted and spent,
husband tiptoes in.
He covers his wife
with an extra blanket.
He cradles her sleeping head.
He cradles her swollen belly.
Husband holds his wife
and whispers,
"My whole world
is right here, in my arms.
My. Whole. World."
Who goes camping at 6 and 1/2 months pregnant?
I do. And you know what? It was fun!
We packed up our camping gear (and by "we" I mean Brandon, I merely supervised) and headed for Yellowstone. B had a few days off and we wanted to make the most of them.
People have been so surprised that I dared venture out camping this far along, but really, it was no big deal. I slept better than I had in weeks (even though it snowed one night), we saw a gazillion animals (including a bear cub darting across the road in front of us), I got to be alone with the hubby, and be totally disconnected from everything else. Loved. It.
What didn't I love? Well...B had to literally push my keister up very mildly inclined, paved walkways, and I got to see a fully body shot of my prego self for the first time. Not. Amused. And the day we went to see Old Faithful was ridiculously overcast and rainy, making the steam and water coming out of the geyser blend in with the sky. We were less than impressed, but what can ya do?
But, like I said, I really enjoyed myself. No, really. I did!
Yeah, we were this close to a bison. Or is it a buffalo? Eh, who cares, we didn't get gored so its ok.
Love the scenery. The canyon is nice, too.
Brandon and me...looking hefty.
