Somebody

Somebody (cough...cough...Knut)

Has been playing with my new camera.

 

Instead of taking out the dead amaryllis plant.

At least I'm guessing it was him.  This doesn't look like David's handiwork.

Future Therapy

There are times when I do something as a mother, and mentally put some money aside for my kids' future therapy fund.  Although usually it's because of a mistake I made.  However, although this may put my younger kids in therapy, I've made a decision.

I'm not getting a baby book for Solveig.  I know.  Awful.

I got a baby book for Silje.  I filled out a lot of it, in fact.  She reminds me constantly that I have yet to complete her birthday pages up to age 5.

I got a book for David.  The year he was born was really crazy because Silje was still a baby herself, and he was not an easy baby.  So I made a valiant effort, but it isn't as filled in as Silje's.

I bought a book for Elias.  However, there's not much in it.  Maybe his name.  Maybe not even his whole name.  I probably just put "Eli" and got distracted.

So I'm throwing away all pretense that just because I buy a book for Solveig, that I will actually do something with it.  I'm saving my money and being real.  It's not going to happen.  If I let myself get into scrapbooking, maybe I'd have one of those.  Maybe someday I will.  Maybe.  Right now I have no more space for another craft in my house.  When all of my kids are gone and I take over a room bigger than my laundry room and outfit it with whatever crafting accessory I want, I will probably get into scrap booking.  Right now, if I start getting into it, I'd have to give up some sewing or fabric space.  That's just not going to happen.

For now, my kids' baby books will come in the form of this blog.  When they ask where their baby book is, I'm going to press the print button, wait about 3 days for it to finish printing, and then hand the book to them.  (Actually, I'd probably get one of those companies who turn blogs into books do it for me.  They'll be grown.  I'll have the money for that then, right?)

So future adult children: I'm sorry.  You will have no baby book.  It doesn't mean I love Silje the most.  It means I got real.  Please inquire about a payment plan from your therapist.

Yarn Along

I'd like to thank Ginny at Small Things once again for hosting the Yarn Along.  I've really enjoyed meeting so many new people who love to read and knit each week!  If you'd like to "meet" some as well, head on over (when you're done here of course) to her blog.

 

This week I've picked up once again a project that was nearly forgotten.  It's a sweater for me.  Imagine that. If I remember right, I abandoned it before because I got to the point of dividing for the armholes and I realized it was actually too short for me.  Since I'm so short, I wasn't expecting that, but I had to undo a lot of work if I wanted it to look nice, and at the time, I didn't feel like undoing a lot of work.  So it got stashed in my unfinished pile.  Now it's out, and I've fixed the problem and am currently working on lengthening it.  I may even make this little cropped sweater go to my waist.  I don't know yet.  We'll see.

For reading, I put one of our homeschool books in.  Silje just started studying Greek Myths and let me tell you, she's so so so in love with them.  I wasn't sure how she'd react to them, but she won't put this book down, and even rereads sections over and over again.  As a literature major, I'm excited that she'll have this base for studying classical literature in the future.  (I'm of the belief that knowing both the Bible and Greek Mythology are both essential for studying higher literature.  Why schools these days have cut  these two out, I'll never figure out.)

So far her favorite story is Pandora's Box.  There's one other that she loves, but I can't think of the name just now.   

The other book that I put in the picture is one sent to us this week all the way from Norway!  One of my dear friends, Lise, who lives there thought that if Silje is studying geography, she should have an excellent book on the most beautiful city in Norway.  Silje hasn't put that down either and even brought it to town yesterday so she could look at the pictures in the car.

That wasn't the only thing in the package from Lise.  She sent the most gorgeous little dress for Solveig.

How can I not show a picture of it?  She also sent a Norwegian chocolate bar.  That however...

did not make it to this post.

Back to School

We're back!  Yeah!  Yeah!  Yeah!

I'm posting today and Friday since there's so much going on this week.  If I don't post today, the one on Friday will be 10 pages long.  Just spreading out the love.

I'm not sure who was more excited to get back into school: the kids or me.  We took a month off as Christmas vacation/maternity leave and it was more than enough.  I don't know how we'll survive all summer without school, and I'm thinking I may not try.  Of course, the kids will play outside more then.

Yesterday morning started quickly.  I got up at 9am because Solveig had a bad night and Knut had the morning off.  So on my way to get coffee I started telling the kids to get dressed for school.  To my surprise, both Silje and David eagerly got dressed and showed up quickly without any argument to the dining room table to get work.  (I hit the floor running since the day was so late, and didn't get a chance to change until much,much later.)

David actually sat nicely for the morning devotional, and then asked what he was going to do.

I didn't have anything really planned for David, but I have work-boxes of things for him that I pulled out.  First I brought out his level 1 (kindergarten) reading program that he zipped through at the beginning of the year.  I had him read all the little books in there, which he did with great enthusiasm.  Next I had him do some Mighty Mind puzzles.

(I know David looks like he's dressed as a Christmas elf.  I sort of let them pick out their own clothes when we're just chillin' at home.  You know, since no one sees us.  Just the people on this blog. ;) )

Finally, I brought out Uno.  I saw it on clearance at Walmart for only $1, so I bought 2 decks.  I figure it's a game with colors, numbers, and a few sight words.  Perfect for school!  He was eager, so even though it took him a few minutes to catch on, and he needed a bunch of help, he ended up beating me in the end.

He also did some jigsaw puzzles, practiced writing his name (gasp!  That's a huge goal for this year!) and he completed a total of 13 pre-handwriting worksheets (dot-to-dots and mazes mostly).  This from a kid who normally hates worksheets and I have to bribe to hold a crayon.

Elias had no interest in playing in the playroom, or watching t.v.  He did so well playing upstairs around us.  I just couldn't believe what a great start back it was.

Our schoolgirl did well as well.  I'm adding some more handwriting drills to her days this week because I'm convinced she is getting sloppier lately.  So after she had written her memory verse and her spelling words, I gave her another blank handwriting sheet and had her fill the front with capital "A's" and the back with lowercase.  After the second and third lines of lowercase letters began to look more like the letter "u" I gave her one more sheet to do.  I did get an eye roll for that, but she did it, and much more carefully.

Today we have our homeschool group this afternoon, piano lessons and choir practice.  On Friday, Knut and I are hosting a homeschool group field trip to go cross country skiing.  So far 3 families are signed up so we're pretty excited about that.  I'm still in my 6 weeks of no exercise, so I won't be skiing.  I'll be looking after Solveig and Elias and helping out getting skis on and off at the "lodge."  It should be fun!

What Do You Think?

OK, I finally finished redesigning the blog.  Hopefully there won't be a new look everyday anymore.  I've been wanting to do it for awhile, and I was actually getting to the point of getting someone to do it for me, but I finally got it mostly how I want it.  I'll hopefully add some new pictures as they come along.  I also got a new widget for my store...so it's kinda having an ad on here.  It's for my store, though, so I think it's relevant.  I'd rather advertise something to do with our family than, say, Toyota or whatever random ad that blogger would assign me if I put up ads.  We don't even drive a Toyota. Not that I have anything against Toyota.  Shoot...now I feel like I'm making a political statement.

I moved the pictures/descriptions of family members to "About Us" near the top right of the page.  There are a few reasons for doing that, but if you want to see it, there it is.  It didn't disappear, just moved.

And since you've been so nice as to read that, I'll treat you to some pictures of Elias.  He's really into saying "CHEESE!" these days.

 

 

Bye!

Growing Up

We are blessed to live in a lovely home.  My dream home, actually.  I don't think I've ever lived in a place so nice.  Our house was built in 1900 and it has the details of a home built at that time.  However, it has more closet space than most homes I've seen from that time, which makes me even happier.

However, our house is old.  Obviously.  It doesn't need a lot of work, as in it's unlivable.  It's just that it needs a lot more work than a new house.  There's always something going on.  We're trying to get through each room of the house one by one.  However, our project doesn't just include tearing down wallpaper and adding shelves.

Besides working on our house, we're trying to work on the things inside our house too.  As in furniture.  Right now, every last piece of furniture in our house comes from either a friend's house, garage, or attic, or from a garage sale or craigslist.  I would really like to go out and get some grown up furniture, and get rid of some of the pieces that Knut and I got dumpster diving in college.

For the past 2 years, Knut and I have put away a little, tiny sum every month towards a new living room set.  It's the room that is closest to being finished with the fireplace Knut installed.  After looking at some couches when we were saving, we realized our taste was more expensive that I thought, and when our 2 year savings plan had matured, we may only be able to afford a couch and not a whole room set.

We reached our savings goal in December, and waited until this month to pick one out, because I've read that the best furniture sales are in January.  Plus, we were pretty busy in December!  You know, new baby and all!

We went to several stores this last weekend, and found the perfect sofa in our price range at the second store.  We were both in love with it.  Since we had several more stores to go, we took the saleswoman's card, and moved on, though convinced that we had found the one.

After going to several more stores and not finding anything we liked even close to the other one, Knut talked me into going into just one more store.  Wouldn't you know, we found another sofa we liked.  Still great quality, although half the price of the previous one we had looked at.  With that price, Knut could get a leather chair to go in the living room that he was gawking at in one of the other stores.

We measured so carefully because our antique house has little doorways.  I measured the doorway into the living room before we left, and found it to be 33" wide and just a hair over 77"tall.  The half-the-price sofa was exactly 33" at the smallest point with legs removed and pillows squished, and for some reason, Knut didn't trust my measurements.  Since it was so close, and so tight, Knut wanted to go home and measure the doorway for himself before we ordered it.  I picked out fabric for it and the pillows.  I wanted a red sofa.  Bold, I know, but I've always wanted one, and I think it would be perfect for this room.  If we're buying a brand spankin' new piece of furniture, I wanted it to be exactly what we wanted.  No compromising.

So after taking down every measurement of the sofa, and the fabric swatch numbers, we headed back to the store with the leather chair and bought it, although it was back ordered and it will be ready when the couch was at the other store.  It was so perfect.

When we got home, Knut went right to measuring the doorway.  I was right.  33".  However, he then looked around and measured the other doors in the house.  The doorway to the front door, back door, porch door.  The biggest doorway into the house was only 29".  We realized we had small doors when my parents gave us their old sofa.  They drove it all the way up from Arizona, and when they got it here we realized that we never measured and it was seriously a miracle that the thing got into the house.  It only fit through the doorway into the den, which was fortunate because that's where we planned for it to go.

Knut measured the height of the doorway.  He got 78" inches from it.  He then looked at the measurements of the sofa and saw it was 80" long.  It couldn't go through upright either.  As we both stomped and fumed around the house, we then both sulked that we had spent a whole day furniture shopping, picked out the perfect sofa and even put money down on a leather chair, and we'd have to go back and start from scratch.  Not only a whole day wasted, but we wouldn't be able to figure out babysitting, and time off and all those other stars that need to align for Knut and I to go shopping together.

The next day, Knut called his friend in the "big city" where we went furniture shopping and asked if he could run by the store for us and measure the sofa one more time and try to see if there was any possible way to get it into our house.  Since we were ordering it with a special color, it would be unreturnable, so we had to be sure.  As Knut was on the phone with his friend, he did a double check of the measurements he had taken in the store.  When he got off the phone, he told me that the first sofa we liked was 80" long.  He was looking at the wrong set of measurements.  The one we were going to get in the end he had marked as only 76" long.  Plenty of room for it to go through the doorway upright.  I was so excited I cannot even tell you.

He wanted to have his friend double check that it would work, but at the end of today, we get to call in the order.  I'm so excited.  It's funny.  I've graduated from college, paid off that college debt, gotten married, had 4 children, am living in the second house that we have owned, have been called "ma'am" more times than I can count at the grocery store and somehow, buying a little couch makes me finally feel like a grown up.

Too Much Fun

A spoon and a flat diaper were somehow left in the living room. I'm not sure why. However, my camera loves them.  (Somebody stop me...)

A New Adventure

Watch out.  This blogger is about to go a bit picture crazy.

After 2 ebay auctions (the first ending with the seller saying "Oops, I forgot to set a reserve.  You weren't supposed to win that at that price."  That was an unpleasant experience.) I finally got my Canon 30d digital SLR camera.  I'm very impressed with the mint condition this used camera is in. It comes with a bunch of sweet things.  It's heavier than I thought it would be.

I've wanted an SLR ever since I took a class in photography in high school...(ahem) 13 years ago.  So with a bit of a rusty memory, I'm trying to remember all the cool things you can do with a camera like this.


It may take awhile to figure this out.

Fortunately, reading a manual is pretty easy to do while sitting and feeding a baby.


Right now there are about 200 pictures on here of whatever happens to be in front of the lens.


Now I have to get back on the ball with Nerdy Gerdy so I can save up for a photo editing software...

A new addiction is born.

On the Brain

It seems that Knut is not the only one in our house with skiing on the brain.  Silje drew this picture in anticipation for her ski league starting this next Saturday.  (Notice she Notice she won "1st place" in her picture and has a ribbon?) Knut ended up signing David up too.  I guess Knut "volunteered" to help coach so he figured, why not let David tag along.  Hopefully he'll listen well.

The kids are only asking about every 4 minutes if it's Saturday yet.

Yarn Along

I'm loving this yarn along party, as it's fun to see what others are doing with their knitting and reading.  Thank you to the "Small Things" blog for hosting it again!

For the reading, I thought I'd post a picture of the books Knut picked out for the kids this year for Christmas.

We've done this for years now.  Well, actually he does it.  I recommended for Silje this year "The Secret Garden" and it has been a hit so far.  Knut picked out for David a Robin Hood book based purely on the amazing illustrations in it.  Although I think the reading level is much too high to even read aloud to him yet.  As always, I'm sure that it will soon be his favorite book, as other Christmas books in the past have become.

Since Elias is really into trains right now, "The Polar Express" was Knut's choice this year and I'm so excited to have this book in our house!  It's so full of magic and the pictures are just stunning.  Solveig got a little "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" board book.

My favorite part of this tradition isn't just the books, but the notes inside.  Knut writes a long letter to each of the kid in the front cover of their books.  He spends so much time composing each letter to each kid, sometimes coming up with several drafts before the final copy is penned into the inside of the book.  So far, the kids breeze right past them and don't notice them.  I hope, though, that someday they will be very important to them.  Each letter makes me cry each year when I get to read it.

You thought I was the only writer in the family?  Oh no.  Knut is a great writer.  He just doesn't know it.  When we were dating long distance, states apart, he wrote me every week.  I don't think many couples have a stash like this as a reminder of their courtship.  Knut said that it was the most strategic thing he's ever done for our relationship.  You see, whenever he does something stupid, or I'm mad at him (which can often occur at the same time) I can always go to my desk and read all the things he wrote back then, and I'm reminded of how much he loves me, and how God brought us through so much.  Makes his life pretty easy.

He doesn't write me weekly anymore, but I still get a few letters from him a year. The last one was during harvest, and it was during the time when all I saw of him was traces that he was home sometime when we were all sleeping. It was so sweet about how he appreciated how much extra work I did when he was gone, and how he missed spending time with the family. I love things in writing because you can always come back to it time and time again when things aren't as "sweet".  I feel bad for modern couples whose only "documentation" of their love is through text messaging.  A whole generation of instant gratification.  Words said with the purpose of speed, rather than deep thought.  I won't go down that tangent any further, though.

As far as my knitting, what you see will soon be frogged.  I put my notebook in the picture too, because I've finally decided to push myself even further and start trying to design my own patterns.  Why not?  It can't be rocket science. This is just a prototype, and I don't like it, and so I'm recording the areas that will change, and making plans for the next tester.   This is the 3rd tester that I'll be frogging, and I'm waiting on a reference book that should be coming any day to help me figure out the stitch I've been trying to accomplish.  Don't worry, it's not frustrating at all.  I've been kinda giddy so far in this whole process.  When I finally have the pattern done, I'll show you what it actually looks like, and what it actually is.

Solveig's Birth Story

I know some people love to read birth stories, and others feel it's something very private.  If you are the latter, this post is not for you.  I personally love to read stories of how women give birth.  I've heard one woman say that giving birth is such a huge life changing event that many women need to tell their stories as a means of mentally processing that life change.  I can completely relate to that.

I'm not sure when to say labor started.  As most of the readers know, I was in the hospital twice before the birth, thinking I was in labor.  Well, not totally true.  The first time, I was in intense pain, but it wasn't coming in waves like normal contractions, and I was more worried that something was wrong.  However, the monitors were picking up contractions, so we all assumed that I was in labor.  In hindsight, I was probably overworked (the day before I mopped the kitchen floor on my hands and knees...and completely felt the foolishness of that later) and dehydrated.

The second time, I timed contractions, and headed in.  However, when I got there, the contractions stopped, and the intense constant pain started.  I should have recognized it as dehydration to begin with, since I had a similar experience with Silje.  As soon as I got an i.v. everything returned to normal, and I returned home.  In tears that time.  (In my defense, I wasn't even thirsty.  I normally drink tons when I'm pregnant, but keeping those fluids up in the third trimester requires that I slosh around all the time.  If I'm I'm not sloshing, I'm usually dehydrated.)

Needless to say, knowing when labor started was tricky.  I was having painful contractions every 10 minutes for those weeks.  However, they'd slow when I went to sleep, and I could sleep through them.  They felt exactly like labor contractions, and they were regular during the day.  I normally have fast labors, so Knut and I were worried that when I did go into labor, it would happen too fast.

The morning of the 11th, I woke up at 4am with a contraction.  Contractions normally don't wake me up, so I took notice.  10 minutes later, I had another one.  After the third one, I got out of bed to see if I could do something different to make them go away.  First I went into the tub, which usually scares away the contractions.  However, this time, it didn't.  I went downstairs to the basement to watch a movie (I picked "White Christmas") while the rest of the house slept.  By 6am, they were much stronger, and still 10 minutes apart.  I remember swaying through a contraction in front of the warm corn stove in the basement, and thinking to Solveig "I'm going to meet you today.  Today is the day you'll be in my arms."  I was starting to allow myself to get excited again that this was "it."

Just before 7am, the kids and Knut came downstairs for breakfast, and I told Knut to clear the schedule for the day.  My bet was we'd be at the hospital by 10am.  The only thing we had planned for the day was taking the kids to the library to see Santa.  They'd be disappointed, but what do you do?

Our plan was to go to the hospital when contractions were 2-3 minutes apart.  We normally go in when they are 5 minutes apart because I do deliver fast, but we had done that twice and had come home twice, so we weren't planning on having that happen again.

So while I labored at home, Knut kept the kids away from me as much as possible.  When it was 9:30, and contractions were still 10 minutes apart, although they were hard and over a minute long, I told Knut to go ahead and take Silje and David to the library.  I couldn't seem to pass that "10 minute mark" and it was frustrating me.

Knut called from town and asked if he had time to pick up a tree.  There contractions were still not any closer together, so I told him to go ahead and pick one up.  Just when he and the kids got home, I was in the middle of an intense contraction and the kids were pulling on me and asking me for food, etc.  I could not handle it, and actually called Knut on his cell phone in the garage (he was untying the tree) and told him I could not in any way handle the kids and he needed to get inside. He said he'd be right in and I could help him with the tree.

Help him?  As he dragged the tree through the house, I was in another contraction and started crying.  I couldn't help him put the tree up.  He must have misunderstood.  I needed his help and had no help to give.  It was the first of emotional break downs, but I quickly got over it, and held the tree as he tightened it in the stand inbetween the contractions.  They were still 10 minutes apart, but now at least a hard 2 minutes long.  That gave spurts of 8 minutes to help.

The stupid tree kept tipping over, and I really did not want to deal with it anymore so I left for a different room and left Knut, the tree, and the kids.  He promised to keep them away from me.  I went to lay down, and didn't get a contraction for another 30 minutes, which made me cry again.  I thought labor was stalling again, and I couldn't handle this on again-off again feeling.  I had let myself believe once again that the baby was coming that day, and to be disappointed again was more than I could handle.

To my surprise, they started up again.  Every 10 minutes (are you getting tired of me saying "every 10 minutes"?  I was sure sick of it.)  However, they were still 2 minutes long, and it got to the point where I had to seize control of my brain.

I have had epidurals in all of my previous labors, however, not all of them had come in time.  My labor with Elias I was mentally prepared to not be able to get an epidural, and I did end up having time to get one in the end.  I only got to enjoy it for 10 minutes or so, and was kicking myself afterward that I had gotten it.  I could have just avoided the whole uncomfortable procedure and kept my ability to move around during labor, and afterbirth.

So for this one, I was determined to not get any drugs.  Not because I felt I was superwoman, but I had done it before, by accident, and I knew I could do it.  I knew it was in me.  I just had to take control of my brain and not let fear take over.  I was more afraid of losing control than the pain.

So as the contractions got more and more intense, I chanted this determination to myself.  I would not lose control.  I may not be able to control what happened below my neck, but my brain was completely mine.  I counted, I breathed, I did whatever I could to make myself feel like I was in control of my thoughts during this time.  I wasn't scared, and I didn't have to yell or moan like previous births.  I felt totally in control.

I even, at times told myself to let the pain come.  If I felt like I was inviting the pain, I felt like I was in control of it.  Inviting the pain to come helped.  I was glad I had read up so much on natural birth, because I learned so many tricks that really helped deal with the intensity of it all.

There were times I asked Knut to come be with me so I could lean on him.  However, by the time he shook a kid from his body to get to me, the contraction was over, and another one was still 10 minutes away and he was gone by the time it got there.  He really had no clue how intense things were getting.

Around 5pm, the contractions finally sped up to every 8 minutes.  They were crazy intense, and I was worried that at this rate, I couldn't deliver naturally.  If this was going to go on for hours and hours, I just couldn't do it.  8 minutes apart made me feel like the end was still so far away, and I just didn't think I could do it.  I told Knut to call his aunt to watch the kids, and we needed to get to the hospital.  I didn't care about the 2-3 minute apart goal anymore.  The contractions weren't close, but I needed a coach and didn't want to do it by myself anymore.  He had just put the supper in the oven for the kids, so he called his aunt, and she and her daughter said they'd head over.  The kids were eating supper by the time we'd arranged for everything to go.

I need to back up, though.  Around 5pm, I hopped back in the tub to help with the pain.  Knut came to check on me, and by then they were 8 minutes apart, and I told him it was time to go.  He was in the middle of getting supper ready, and I told him there was probably enough time to finish that as his aunt and cousin came over. I told him this with such certainty that he didn't question me, but with contractions only every 8 minutes, I don't think he was rushing.

While everything was being arranged to leave, I recorded the next contraction only 7 minutes later.  The one after that was only 6 minutes.  Then 5 minutes.  4 minutes.  By the time the contractions were right on top together, slurring into wave after wave crashing on me, I attempted to get out of the tub and dressed to go.  It was tricky.  I thought of calling Knut up to help me, but I knew that would only delay him getting things ready to go, and I wanted no delay at this point.  The few seconds between contractions I'd race to get another item of clothing on.  When I was ready, I waited at the top of the stairs for a the few seconds given to me between waves, and raced down in between them.

Knut helped me into the van, and for the first time that day, we were alone together as I was dealing with the contractions.  I felt I could relax because he was there.  I felt I could make noise because my kids weren't there and wouldn't get scared.  Knut was excited, and assured me that he thought with all of the laboring I had done that day, I'd at least be dilated to 5cm, and he was sure they wouldn't send me home this time.  I was more worried at this point that we'd get to the hospital in time, but I didn't tell him that.  The roads were icy, and the last thing I needed to worry about at that point was a crazy, scared driver.  All I told him was I'd better be at least at an 8.  He laughed, and held my hand.

As we drove closer to town, I felt the baby descend lower and lower, and I could no longer sit squarely on the seat, but had to lean over to one side, as if the birth canal was open and ready to push, although I felt no urge to push.  When we finally got to town and were about a mile from the hospital, I told Knut calmly that I was pretty sure we'd make it to the hospital, but I wasn't guaranteeing that we'd make it up to the birthing center.  He smiled, and told me that I was doing great.

When we got to the hospital, Knut parked in the emergency parking, and helped me inside.  The receptionist recognized immediately that things were going fast, as I couldn't even walk, and Knut helped me into a wheelchair.  I remember staring at it, trying to figure out how I could make my body sit down at this point.  It had no wish to sit down.  Squatting was more like it.  However, I somehow managed to sit, but leaned over to one side as far as I could.  The woman in the emergency room, where you check in, saw my position, and literally ran me upstairs, yelling ahead to a doctor to press the elevator button so it would be there when we arrived.  Knut left me at this point to go park the car, and said he would meet me upstairs.

When the nurse and I arrived in a birthing room, one lone nurse came to help me out of the wheelchair.  The floor was empty, and only one reserve nurse was there in case someone showed up.  I grabbed onto the side of the bed.  I told her I was feeling a lot of pressure and thought the baby was coming soon.  That sent her into motion quickly as soon there were 2 nurses there, and I think one was assigned just to repeatedly page the doctor on call.

When I finally had the gown on and the monitors beeping, the nurse checked me and announced "she's complete and ready to push" just as Knut entered the room.  Seriously, he looked like he just saw a ghost when she said that.  I've never seen that look on his face before.  I had labored by myself for most of the day and he had no idea it was this far along.

At this point my water had not broken, and one nurse told the other that she thought that was the only thing holding the baby in.  I still had no desire to push, and so I just lay there breathing.  They told me to try not to push until the doctor got there, but I had no intention of obeying.  I didn't feel like I needed to push yet, but I thought it was stupid to wait for the doctor.  For the purpose of avoiding tears, or some medical reason I would, but I figured a nurse could catch if she needed to.

We were all relieved to see Dr. N run in in his sweatshirt and jeans from home.  Knut said the only thing that Dr. N got on completely was shoe covers when my water broke and the urge to push came.  He got his arms into the paper gown when the baby started to crown.

I honestly don't remember pushing.  In fact, I know I consciously didn't push.  As silly as this sounds, I just let the baby come out.  I endured her coming out, but I certainly didn't mentally push her.  She came out in one contraction and I just let it happen.  I don't mean to sound all calm about it.  I wasn't at the time.  My eyes were closed and I didn't open them for a minute or two after she was out.  I'm told her cord was wrapped several times around her legs, binding her up.  Dr. N. held her up in a little ball and said she was a girl.  Knut cut the cord, and they lay her on me right away.  When she was placed on my chest, I finally could get my eyes open, and I saw my little girl.  We had been in the hospital exactly 18 minutes when she was born.

As the afterbirth was delivered, someone gave me a shot of pitocin in my leg to help me contract.  Solveig began to nurse and she had a perfect latch on her first try, which I had never experienced before.  She sucked for almost an hour, and the nurses just let her lay on me and didn't ask to take her to weigh her or anything until she had stopped.  I was so thankful for that time.  I didn't get to hold Elias for many hours because of his breathing issues.  It was very healing for me to be able to hold her for so long without any pressure to let her go.  However, as the adrenaline was finally setting in, I was shaking all over.

As they were weighing her and checking her vitals, I kept passing blood clots which worried the nurse.  I couldn't remember if that was normal or not.  I had been anemic during all of my pregnancies, and knew this could happen, but it hadn't happened before.  She called the doctor, and he put me on some drug to clamp down the uterus to stop bleeding.  It was a miserable drug.  A "necessary evil" as my midwife friend called it when I talked to her by phone the next day. (She had recently given a mother that same drug, and knew how uncomfortable it could make someone.)   It messed with my body temperature and that whole evening, I went from sweating through my gown to uncontrollable chills.  However, it did what it was supposed to do and stopped the bleeding.  However, my hemoglobin was so low that my doctor offered me a blood transfusion, which I turned down since he didn't insist and the whole idea freaked me out.  He said if I didn't take it, I would just have a longer recovery, and be on lots of iron.  He said it would be about a month before I was at full strength again.

Knut and I were both comfortable with the decision to avoid the transfusion and just have me "take it easy" longer.  They kept me an extra night in the hospital so I could rest.  Normally Knut was racing me out of the hospital (he hates hospitals), but with his Grandpa failing in that same hospital on a different floor, he felt that home would be too stressful for me and quickly agreed to me staying longer.  After about a week at home, we noticed my color returning well.

Solveig Joy was 7 lbs, 5 oz.  In the first 2 weeks she had exactly 2 diapers that weren't poopy, and was the only one of my kids who never ever looked jaundice-y.  She is a champion nurser, and is putting on weight quickly.  I'm so happy that I decided to go natural this time around, and found this to actually be my easiest labor.  Each woman, each baby, each labor is so different, and this one is a big example of that!  I was just surprised that having a drug free labor was less painful than any epidural labor I had in the past.  It was truly all a state of mind and controlling the fear factor.  For me, this was definitely the way to go!

Ahhhh....

Well, after all of the "taking it easy" before Solveig was born, going through the birth and following anemia, celebrating Christmas and New Years, all with the help of my wonderful husband, my in-laws, friends, and lastly my parents who flew back home last night, I'm finally on my own with the 4 kids.

I used to get so nervous the first time I was left alone with a newborn.  A newborn and a 15 month old (Silje and David) terrified me.  Even after Elias was born, I was nervous to be left alone with all 3.  However, as much as I've enjoyed all the help, I'm so excited to be on my own this morning with all 4.

My parents caught us up from the holiday back-up that was our messy house.  Yesterday the tree was taken out since it was no longer drinking water, and most of the decorations came down much sooner than they normally do.  I actually woke up this morning at 8am, and snuck in a shower before Knut headed off to work.  I had a hot breakfast of cream of wheat (the best anemia-buster out there, in my opinion).

Before I let myself get overwhelmed, I started a list of all the things that needed to get done.  Picking up the back hallway, cleaning out the diaper bag, washing diapers, bathing Solveig, etc.  One by one, everything got done.  We even did a few fun things this morning.

I finally completed stamping and stuffing all of the Christmas letters.  (One of the many great things about having a baby, is that you always have a legitimate excuse for being late...even if you're normally late without a baby.)  The room that the tree was in got vacuumed, and I dared move the couch back to where it belonged.  (It's not that heavy at all.  The kids could have moved it.)


We finished the broken crayon project.  When my parents were here, Mom and Silje started this project that I was inspired by this site to do.  Well, Ginny let her kids paint with the melted crayons.  I let them cool and harden. You basically sort broken crayons into a silicone baking mold, melt them in the oven, let them cool, and you have fun shaped funky crayons.  Eat your heart out,Crayola.  Elias will have a blast with these.  Well, he may have to fight his older brother and sister for them.



They came out multicolored, but the kids just love them.


Fun snowmen to warm up the day.


This chunky girl got a much needed bath in the sink.  Did I tell you that when we went to her 2 week check up, she had gained a whole pound from her birth weight?  My babes come out small, but they get fat quick.  Just the way I like it.


Ahhh...all clean and changed.

I will admit that the last few weeks, the kids (especially the boys) have watched way too much television and we haven't been regulating it like we normally do.  Today is no exception.  I figured that my first day "back at work" wasn't the best time to cut the t.v. off cold turkey.  Silje's aching to start school again, but I think I'll put it off until next Monday.  However, I think there's no harm in letting her do some Chinese on the computer.

I'm not totally back to normal.  My tummy is still pretty rubbery, and I have no intention of exercising whether skiing or yoga until a full 6 weeks has passed.  I'm actually getting excited for that too.  I cannot tell you how good it feels to feel productive and useful again.  I know.  Resting and taking care of an infant is productive and useful.  Maybe I should say it feels good to feel more like myself again.

Baptism Sunday

This morning Solveig was baptized, and it was so special.  With lots of thought and prayer, Knut and I have brought all of our kids to be baptized as infants.  While I don't believe that baptism is merely a symbol, there are many special traditions surrounding baptism that have no "magic" but do point to Christ.  OK, some of them are just fun.  For instance, I have a special Norwegian broach that I wear to each baptism.  That's just fun.

Other things, like this gown aren't "magical" but serve a purpose.  I'm reminded of the pillars set up in the old testament to serve as a reminder for something God has done.  Something that when you walk past it, your children ask "why is that there?" it is an opportunity to remind us how much God has done for us.



This gown is one of the 2 gowns that have been passed down in Knut's family.  His dad's family has a gown and his mom's family has a gown.  This one is his mom's family's gown which I've always had our girls wear because it's lacier.  His dad's family gown is still lacy, but it seem manlier because Knut and his dad Richard were both baptized in it.

Both gowns are well over 100 years old.  Yes, I am terrified when my children wear it that they will poop all the way up the back.  I'm always nervous that my child will be the child to absolutely destroy one of these priceless heirlooms.  Still, I'm so grateful they have each gotten to wear one, because it's a "pillar" in our modern times to remind ourselves of God's faithfulness.

I look at this gown in awe of all the intricate lace and stitches.  I can only imagine the work it took to make it.  The gown that Solveig (and Silje, when she was little) wore was first worn by Knut's grandma's great-aunt.  I think about how many generations that goes back.  The other gown that the boys wear...we're not even sure how old, exactly, it is.  Think about that for a minute.  That side of the family has no memory of ever not bringing their children to the Lord.  That is a truly profound thing.  Having no memory of not knowing Christ in a family.

What a testimony of God's faithfulness.  I know for a fact that my great-grandpa on my dad's side was agnostic.  He believed there was a God, but wanted nothing to do with Him.  While I haven't researched or would be able to defend the idea of generational sin, I do know for a fact there is something very real called generational pain.

It's not a matter of Knut's family was perfect and mine was not.  I just have a glimpse of what a family looks like when they shake their fist at God.  Some turn from that, and turn to God.  Generational sin/pain is never too great for God to overcome.

Growing up, I'd hear these amazing testimonies of living as a drug addict or in a life of crime, and suddenly and dramatically being redeemed to a new life in Christ.  The fact that my history was only knowing Christ seemed "boring."  The older I've gotten, the more amazed I am by the grace given that as far as my memory goes back, I can only remember knowing Christ.  Not that it's better than the other type of testimony.  I think that I've learned to be thankful for the testimony God has given me.


The sponsors this year were our friends Tony and Carolyn. It was funny because I almost put our boys in the same outfit their Sam wore, and she almost put Sam in the same sweater my boys wore, and Carolyn and I wore the same sweater but in different colors. All by accident. This proves that both of us are addicted to Target, and we must have similar taste! We must be friends!


We were so glad all Solveig's grandparents could be there!

"Oldefar" and Great-grandma R. were both there.


However, this was the first family event where Great-grandma M was there without Great-grandpa.  I'll admit, there were times when I looked over, and felt his abscence very acutely.  I can only imagine how that was for Knut.  One of his biggest regrets is that even though Solveig and Grandpa were in the hospital at the same time, they never got to meet this side of Heaven. 


Look at my family. We are so blessed!

Snow Days

These days are full of snow and wind and all sorts of winter-y things.  As the inches of snow stack up outside, we've been tucked inside our home with my parents visiting from Arizona.

We had a tea party.

We've been enjoying our amaryllis in full bloom.  I love fresh flowers in the house all the time!  However, the height went a little nuts here!


Occasionally, someone will venture outside.

I guess you can take the man out of Arizona, but you can't take Arizona out of the man.  (Papa finds very few occasions to put away the shorts.)