Christmas Newsletter 2017 - Year in Review

I asked Alex what I should include in our yearly family Christmas letter, and he suggested that I copy and paste last year's letter and just change the kids' ages. That would almost work--it's been a good and busy year, full of everyday struggles and God's graces, new every morning--but no major life changes (unless you count a new minivan and painting 1/3 of our house). And also no regular updates here on the blog (sorry! Instagram is just so much easier).

But here's a little bit about 2017...

Colette turned two in November. She loves being outside, taking care of her baby dolls, and playing trains with her brothers. She has become very good at dressing herself, and she will often disappear upstairs (whether or not the baby gate is in place) to change into her pajamas or put on a new pair of socks. 

Just this month she started climbing out of her crib every time we put her in it, so now she's in a toddler bed (much to my dismay--I was not ready for her to be escaping her crib!).

little miss independent

John Paul is three and a half. He is extremely friendly and always happy--except for when he's not. He reminds us all to laugh more, and sets a strong example with his own hearty guffaw. He also excels at providing opportunities for all of us to practice laughing.


His favorite color is green. When he grows up, he wants to be either a fire fighter or a zoo keeper.

Liam also has exceptional taste in costumes

Liam turned five in November. We started kindergarten at home this year, and he's loving it. He says his favorite parts are snacks and vacations (and he asks at least weekly when we can go on another road trip), but he also seems to enjoy reading and math.


He is our resident train expert, always ready to describe in detail the various trains he has seen in books or (better yet!) in person. 

Trains are proving to be a great motivation for school--he's always happy to sit quietly with pencil and paper so long as he can draw trains in the margins of his handwriting worksheet or Bible story illustration, and in addition to his name he can write many important words like "train" and "engine." He wants to be a--you guessed it--train engineer some day.

so proud of losing his first tooth in September

Michael will be seven in January. He would like you to know that he can run very fast and that his favorite subject is math (he's in 2nd grade). He still reads voraciously, and he is usually very willing to sit down and read a book or two to his siblings. His favorite books are Hardy Boys and the Magic Tree House books.

this was not staged!

He loves jokes and riddles, writing and illustrating stories, and building elaborate Lego and Lincoln Log houses.

He's not willing to commit himself to a particular career path at the time of this writing, but in recent weeks he's expressed plans to play for the Rockies and be a chef. 

mining engines in Lead, SD -- one of the highlights of the summer

We had a busy summer with multiple road trips to visit family and friends we don't see nearly often enough. In between trips we fulfilled our four-year-long dream of painting the entire first floor of our house (replacing yellow, brown, and green with grey). We almost finished it--we intended to completely redo the small bathroom on the main floor, but the end of summer and then a leaky toilet upstairs slowed us down. Family New Year's Resolution: finish all of the mostly-done projects both in- and outdoors!

Alex is still teaching Scripture to high school sophomores at Regis Jesuit Girls' Division. I continue to write for the Augustine Institute and teach for the Denver Catholic Biblical and Catechetical Schools. 

Homeschooling in addition to this craziness is made possible by the generous help of my parents, who are still living with us (much to our delight and relief!). 

We wish you all peace and joy in these seasons of Advent and Christmas, and God's abundant blessings in the New Year!

"Man’s Maker was made man that 
the Bread might be hungry, 
the Fountain thirst, 
the Light sleep, 
the Way be tired from the journey, 
the Truth might be accused by false witnesses, 
the Judge of the living and dead be judged by a mortal judge, 
Justice be sentenced by the unjust, 
the Teacher be beaten with whips, 
the Vine be crowned with thorns, 
the Foundation be suspended on wood, 
the Strength be made weak, 
the Healer be wounded, 
and that Life might die. 
Wake up, O human being! 
For it was for you that God was made man. 
Rise up and realize it was all for you." 
-St. Augustine

The Toddler and the Allium: A Parable

Well, we're already gearing up for our third week of school...

I don't know where the summer went. Wait, scratch that--I know exactly where it went. It went to North Dakota, then South Dakota, then South Dakota again, then Montana... with about a million hours spent on Wyoming highways. And to Home Depot a couple dozen times so we could paint most of the main floor of our house.

Regardless, it went too fast. And as I sit here wondering who put me in charge of the education of these four little goofballs and if it's May yet, I find myself praying for flexibility. No, not the do-the-splits kind--although I guess that would be pretty neat too--the resilience kind.

The allium kind.

We bought our house four years ago last month. When we moved in, the grass was alive and the trees were flourishing--and that was about it. We had no idea what the spring would bring in the yard and front flower/weed bed. That first spring in our house was a glorious surprise. The front bed exploded with flowers that looked exactly like big purple fireworks on a long, straight stem. Google informed me that they were alliums, and I loved them.

Last fall we had to dig up the whole front bed to replace the (non)retaining wall. I salvaged as many of the allium bulbs as I could, with every intention of replanting them. (Maybe I'll finally get around to it this fall... as of right now they're still sitting in a pot in the garage.)

I didn't take a picture of this year's May snow,
but I took a picture of Colette all bundled up to play in it.
She was not a fan.

But lo and behold! This spring up popped at least a dozen alliums. Despite the total upheaval of the retaining wall project, many of the bulbs survived and bloomed right on schedule. Which means, of course, right in time for our annual May blizzard.

That has been the story every spring. The alliums shoot up and blossom, and then we get a heavy spring snow.

But you know what? They don't care.


They bend and bow under the weight of the snow. All seems lost and frozen and destroyed. But then the snow melts, and they go on blooming. Sure, some of them are no longer exactly vertical, but they shrug off the snow and go on being glorious and lovely and springy.

one of my darling allium AFTER the snow melted

On the other side of the flexibility spectrum is Colette. For the last six or so months she has been quite... particular... at bedtime. Some nights more so, some nights less, but in general things have to be exactly right for her to settle down and go to sleep. And of course, the crucial details change from night to night--and sometimes in the middle of the bedtime routine.

Her water bottle must be placed just so.


She must have this blanket and not that one.

She wants a particular book, but she wants to turn the pages randomly back and forth.

The blanket must be covering her feet but not pulled tight around her.


She needs her doll. Her doll must fold her hands while we say prayers. I must acknowledge that her doll is praying with us.

She doesn't want me to pray.

She wants me to say prayers again.

She needs another drink of water.

mornings are rough when you fight bedtime
(it was milk, promise)

She wants me to sing songs. I start with whatever was her favorite last night, but no--she wants row row. So I start singing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." She changes her mind and wants uppabove. But halfway through "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" she asks for moon.

You get the picture. I can't even learn and anticipate her demands because they're different every night. This has been going on in roughly the same form for almost a quarter of her life. It has made for many long, frustrating bedtimes. Of course I acquiesce to the little sleep-tyrant, because my mothering motto is "whatever it takes." And that is especially true when it comes to sleep!

After a month or so of the ridiculousness we did start pushing back, and she has gotten much better. She is slowly learning to adapt to conditions that are not exactly to her liking, my sweet, strong-willed little girl.

Colette's bedtime antics forced me to realize something: I am not an allium. I am very particular, strong-willed, totally arbitrary toddler who wants things HER WAY OR ELSE.

this is a perfect summary of her personality:
my fierce, sweet little warrior-princess

When the snow storms of life crush me (or, honestly, even just chill me a little), I don't wait them out patiently and spring back up as best I can to get on with blooming. I cry and scream and kick and yell "NO" and demand something different. Which works about as great for me with God as it does for Colette with me.

I am so far from weathering the storms of my life with consistent trust and patience. But this has been my prayer through the summer and especially now as we begin working our way through the school year. The first weeks have been crazy. Good, but so hard. And I'm already so tired. I feel like the smallest thing is enough to totally derail me--mentally and emotionally. But I know I just need to let go. Adapt. Adjust. Stop wishing it could be some other way right this moment. Be present.

So. Here's to trust, not tantrums--child-like, not childish. Lord, not my will, but yours.

Daybook

Just popping in to say a quick hi and breaking all the blogger rules--no explanations, no promises, no pictures. Are there blogger rules? Like, you have to explain if you come back after a long/unexpected absence, and you have to set goals and tell the whole internet about them to keep you accountable (then offer more explanations when you fail to meet those goals anyway), and always post pictures because posts without pictures are boring and un-pinnable. Is "pinnable" a word? "Pinable"? There's another rule to break...

Whatevs. (And that IS apparently a word because "the computer guys" didn't put a squiggly red line under it, as Michael would say...)

I've missed blogging, but I didn't feel like I had much to say. Especially not after pushing through a rough couple of weeks to meet a deadline at the end of August, recovering for a month, then surviving (mostly, I'm not quite done) another crazy two weeks for the next project. Maybe I'll do a post about all those projects... next year...

But I was inspired and motivated by Bobby's  Weekly Writing in October link-up, especially when she suggested that if we needed something to get us started we could just go with a daybook kind of post. I can do that! I think I can I think I can I think I can... Chug chug chug, puff puff puff puff...

What, you don't randomly start reciting children's books in the middle of conversation?

So, with no further ado, currently I am:

reading
The Anne books, for the zillionth time. I'm on Anne of the Island and almost cried last night when Anne refused Gilbert's proposal. These are books that truly get better every single time, and I just have to read them in autumn. (Michael would tell me I don't "have to," I just really want to. He told me that the other day when I needed coffee. Good gracious.)

Also trying to read Augustine's Confessions. Because I'm ashamed I've never read the whole thing, and every time I read a passage from it for something else it is so beautiful and moving. I'm thinking this is one area where it's not really the thought that counts...

praying
This prayer from St. Augustine:

Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy. 

Act in me, O Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. 

Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit, that I love but what is holy. 

Strengthen me, O Holy Spirit, to defend all that is holy. 

Guard me, then, O Holy Spirit, that I always may be holy. 

Amen.

And Psalm 131:

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up,

my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things

too great and too marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

like a child quieted at its mother's breast;

like a child that is quieted is my soul.

O Israel, hope in the Lord

from this time forth and for evermore.

I just "discovered" this psalm and I am totally taken with it. Maybe because I feel like I'm almost never quieted and I am usually occupied with things too great (or at least too much!) for me.

listening

For Colette to wake up. Because teething. Ugh.

around the house

My parents moved in last week! Yes, moved in to stay. No, they're not in poor health (thanks be to God). Yes, we actually just all wanted to live in the same house. There's more to it than that--but it deserves its own post. You know, next year.

We put a lot of (pretty minor but very time consuming) work into the house and yard this summer getting ready for a refinance. And it totally paid off (hahaha, I'm so exhausted look how funny I am). But there's a lot more to do, starting with redoing the retaining wall along the garden/weed bed in front of the house--because the current wall is not doing a particularly good job at retaining and consequently the porch is sinking and starting to pull away from the house. No bueno. So that's next on the list, along with finishing (because planning totally means we've started, right?) the necessary remodeling to turn the basement into a bedroom and living room instead of one giant toy room.

watching

NCIS with Alex. We're almost caught up on Netflix (we took a semi-unintentional hiatus a couple years ago and fell off the wagon). This is some serious relationship-building stuff for us, because if it weren't for NCIS we would probably never have gotten married. Also deserving of its own post--I don't think I've ever told the story here. Man, these daybook things are fantastic for generating post ideas! But remember, no promises.

enjoying

October. It's my favorite. 

Watching Colette's personality and sense of humor continue to emerge. When she's really tired but happy she does this thing where she just shakes here back and forth until she starts leaning and wobbling all over the place. It's hilarious--until she smacks you in the nose with the back of her head.

Watching Michael learn and grow this past month of homeschooling. I love his curiosity (mostly), and watching his mind work is just a delight (mostly).

Listening to John Paul talk--he sounds so much older than 2 1/2. Last Thursday was a really rough morning, and at one point I had gathered all of the kids around me to try to hug all of them at once after having yelled at all of them for--I can't even remember. So rough. But I was crying and apologizing for yelling, and JP just looked at me and said "Is okay Mama. No woozles." Because apparently he thought I was crying because I was scared of the woozles.

Seeing Liam transition from toddler to big boy. He's almost four, so I guess he hasn't really been a toddler for almost a year. But suddenly he's seeming so old. He can be so sweet and so thoughtful, and also so mischievous and so creative. And his delight when he answers a question or sounds out a phonics exercise is the sweetest.

Dabbling in genealogy. So far I've traced ancestors back to Scotland in the early 1700s, Cape May, NJ in the early 1700s, and France and Switzerland in the early 1800s. And I'm pretty sure there's a direct line to William the Conqueror, because I remember reading some of the documents one of my uncles put together when I was in high school and then trying to impress some history-nerd friends with it. If I remember correctly they failed to be properly awed by my distinguished lineage.

And with that, I should probably do the dishes and fold some laundry* before bed. I mean, before Colette needs her 9pm snack, to be followed by her 10pm snack, to be followed by her 3am snack, to be followed by her 5am rise-and-shine routine. Or at least that's how it went last night...

*In the interest of full disclosure, I refused Alex's offer to clean the kitchen and won't let him help me fold the laundry, because those chores are my chance to watch Netflix and as long as there isn't an imminent deadline I would generally rather do them myself. They're almost as much of a luxury as a chore, however bizarre that may be.

Check out the other weekly writings at Revolution of Love, and I'll try to be back here before next Saturday--maybe even with pictures! (Oh wait, no promises!)

Hoodlums

I don't know what it is about hoods, but the boys love them.

And Colette fits right in with the rest of the crew.

Michael has called her Colette Cynthia pretty consistently ever since we told the boys they were getting a little sister and what her name would be. Recently Liam has started calling her by her full name as well. For the first almost three months John Paul just called her "Baby," and it's only within the last month or so that he's started calling her "Kett." I didn't think anything could get more adorable than that, but about a week ago he started calling her by her full name as well--it comes out as "Kynthia" and I kind of hope he calls her that forever. It's the sweetest.

The Arrival of Colette Cynthia: A Birth Story

Alternate title: Weren't We Just Here?

Here is the saga of little miss Colette's birth. But first, a little about her name. Family names are important to us. Both my mom and Alex's mom are Cynthia, so we were delighted to be able to honor both of them at the same time. We also named her for St. Colette, who reformed the Poor Clare sisters in the early 15th century. We have loved this name for several years and finally had a chance to use it! And Colette is a diminutive of Nicolette, a derivative of Nicholas (she already has Uncle Nick entirely wrapped around her little finger, of course)--so if she starts going around punching heretics, we will know why!

All the usual disclaimers apply: lots of messy details, words like "cervix" and "dilation," stop reading now if you don't like reading lengthy descriptions of labor and childbirth! And it is embarrassingly long--I'm not good at keeping an actual journal any more but I don't want to forget any of this. Just think, I could have written this right away instead of waiting two months. Imagine how long it would have been then! You're welcome.

And in case you're like me and prefer to read birth stories in chronological order--because *gasp* there might be spoilers if you read the newest one first!!!!--here are the boys' stories:

Michael -- a very Bradley birth
Liam -- fast and furious
John Paul -- third time's the charm

(Yes, I know I'm weird.)

This birth story starts all the way back in March 2015. Okay, not really. The relevant backstory starts in March. This pregnancy was a bit of a surprise, and it came with a fair bit of anxiety. As soon as I knew I was pregnant I started reading birth stories--ever since my first pregnancy I've loved birth stories, and I guess it was a way to ramp up excitement for this baby and ignore the anxiety. So over the course of the pregnancy I read literally hundreds of birth stories and branched out into midwifery blogs and research articles. By the end I was joking about my degree in midwifery from Google University. The downside was that I was constantly thinking about labor and delivery for almost the entire pregnancy... not conducive to patience and living-in-the-moment.

Fast forward to November 1st. I was two weeks out from my due date of November 13th (which I knew for certain from charting my fertility and for which I had had to argue with my healthcare team---I'm sorry, but I don't care what your ultrasound says. There is no way I conceived when you say I did... yes, I do want you to write down my due date as November 13th instead of November 7th, thankyouverymuch).

I woke up that Sunday morning with sure signs that labor would be kicking into gear and we would be meeting our sweet new baby within a day or two. Discernible contractions while lying down and the beginning of what seemed to be bloody show? Yep, based on my extensive experience of my last two babies labor was definitely imminent. 

Of course I would be going into labor on the day of Liam's 3rd birthday party. I had worried about this for weeks. But I wasn't in labor yet and there was no need to get everyone all excited--maybe I could make it through the party. So we went to Mass as usual, prepared for the party, had the party went to bed, and...

Got up the next morning. Not in labor.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

For almost two weeks.

For almost two weeks I would have some signs of imminent labor. In the afternoon and evening I would have irregular semi-painful contractions. I was having occasional signs of bloody show. When I went to bed the contractions often got more noticeable rather than less. But when I would get up during the night to try to speed things up by walking around or doing lunges up the stairs, the contractions would stop completely. What was this? Contractions while resting but not while being active? That was the total opposite of everything I had read or heard.

I was exhausted. I was frustrated. Would I ever have this baby? Or would I just be stuck in this prodromal labor limbo forever? And to top it all off, my hemorrhoids (sorry, TMI, but I did warn you) flared up in a major way on the 5th or 6th. Like, pain-worse-than-childbirth, how can I possibly push out a baby like this? I was miserable. And scared. And the contractions stopped completely for a couple days. Great.

On Monday I called my OB, but they said that was an issue for primary care. So I was able to get a walk-in appointment with primary care (there may have been tears involved), and my doctor said there was no way anyone would do anything for a thrombosed hemorrhoid on a woman who was 39 weeks pregnant and the only "treatment" was to deliver the baby. Lovely. But she did recommend a lidocaine cream which made a huge difference--where was that for my last three pregnancies and deliveries?!

My discomfort subsided over the next couple days, and the intermittent not-quite-labor-but-not-Braxton-Hicks contractions came back. Every evening. In the the middle of the night. Going away when I tried to get them going harder.

Finally it was my due date, Friday November 13th. Same old story. I was 2cm dilated and starting to soften at my 40 week appointment--nothing to get excited about. Some definitely uncomfortable contractions that afternoon... continuing on through dinner prep and dinner... and closer together after going to bed. So I got up and had a snack just in case this was it (my MO for the last several nights). No contractions. Walked and prayed downstairs for an hour. No contractions. Went back to bed and... couldn't sleep because the contractions were less than 10 minutes apart and starting to hurt. After almost two hours of dozing and timing contractions, I finally woke Alex up and told him this might really be it. Contractions were anywhere from three to eight minutes apart, lasting anywhere from 45-90 seconds. I wasn't ready to go the hospital yet, but I couldn't do it by myself any more. So we puttered around and slowly got ready over the next hour. We decided that yes, it was almost hospital time. Thankfully Alex remembered to eat something before we headed in--we weren't going to make the same mistakes we did with Michael's labor.

At this point let me just say how incredibly wonderful it was to have my mom staying with us--she helped make the weeks leading up to actual labor so much easier, and it was so nice not to have to call anyone to come over in the middle or the night or wake up the boys to take them anywhere!

We left for the hospital around 4. I was terrified of getting sent home like we did with John Paul. Thankfully I had two contractions (albeit lighter ones) during our eight minute drive to the hospital. Maybe I really was in labor after all! As we pulled into the parking lot we were laughing--weren't we just here to have John Paul? It was only 20 months ago (to the day--almost to the hour!), and it felt like it was just yesterday. Okay, I must not be in labor because I can joke and laugh. Dang it.

We entered through the ER entrance, filled out our paper work (thank goodness, another contraction!), and waited for someone to come down and escort us up to Labor and Delivery. And waited. And waited. It must have been at least 15 minutes--I guess we didn't look far enough along to warrant more of a rush. A couple more contractions...hang onto Alex and breath through them... not too bad... Finally the nurse/orderly/whoever she was arrived with the wheelchair. I asked if I could walk, and she looked at me like I was crazy, but she didn't argue. We made it upstairs to the new (since our last visit) Labor and Delivery floor. Thank goodness--triage was now a private room and not a tiny little curtained-off cubicle! A student nurse started the looooong process of checking us in. When her supervising nurse arrived I was both pleased and alarmed to recognize her as our labor nurse with Liam. Very nice, fun English accent, but very loud inside voice.

We successfully completed our hour of observation and question-answering in triage. I continued having contractions 6-8 minutes apart, some of them light, some of them painful. Finally I had a big one that baby girl did not like. The nurses got quiet and serious watching the monitor and had me change position. Her heart rate picked back up, but they wanted to keep an eye on her. Then they finally checked me--4 cm and 90% effaced. I was elated--yes, I was finally actually in active labor and would be having a baby that day.

We moved to an LDR room and got set up with the monitor there. I got my IV for antibiotics, and we tried to settle in. I was so impatient to be off the IV and monitor. Being in bed was not comfortable. I just wanted to get in a warm bath and have the glorious respite I'd had with John Paul. There were a couple more contractions where Colette's heart rate dipped lower than they liked and took a while to pick back up. Thankfully rolling onto my right side instead of my left seemed to solve the problem and they eventually let me out of bed. In the meantime we got a new nurse for shift change. She was absolutely lovely--quiet, supportive, and unobtrusive. And I finally got the okay to get in the bath. 

Almost as soon as I got in the tub one of the two Kaiser OBs on duty poked her head in to say hello. What she actually said was "Well hello Ashley! Are we having a baby today?" In a very loud, overly cheery voice. Well, no, not really--I just like the tubs at the hospital. Of course I am having a baby! I had seen this particular OB for a prenatal visit at 36 weeks and decidedly did not want her delivering my baby because I felt her manner was somewhat condescending and a little abrasive. But there was nothing to do about it now--I certainly wasn't going to try to hold out until she went off shift!

Much to my dismay, the tub was nowhere near as comfortable as it had been during John Paul's labor. and in my completely exhausted state (I'd been up for over 24 hours and hadn't eaten in over six hours at this point) the heat was making me light headed. So I got out and went back to the bed to try to rest in between contractions. I was able to doze lightly between contractions for about half an hour. By now the contractions were definitely painful and bordering on an urge to push. I simply could not relax through them. I had thought for weeks that Colette was probably posterior, and now I was sure of it. I felt every contraction sharply in my lower back and hips. And I was too exhausted to even think what I was supposed to do about it.

I was so ready to give up. I was weepy with exhaustion and just wanted it to be over. And I was partially convinced that there was no way I would be having this baby naturally--that I had somehow jinxed myself by reading too many birth stories and thinking too much about this labor. She was posterior, I was too tired, I had started all the Spinning Babies alignment stuff too late and hadn't been consistent enough with it and her head wouldn't fully engage, I would need pitocin to progress and then I would need an epidural and then she would go into distress and I would need a C-section... etc. etc. etc. And despite recognizing on some level that these thoughts were not entirely reasonable I knew I didn't dare let myself hope I was in transition.

Meanwhile our new nurse had been checking on me occasionally and had told me to let her know as soon as I felt like I might need to push so she could call the doctor right away, because this was my fourth one and although she was perfectly capable of delivering a baby on her own she would really rather not because of all the paper work (I loved her sense of humor). I, however, was determined that this time around I would not say anything about needing to push "too early." I would just let my body do what it needed to do and not be subjected yet again to being told to fight the urge to push before I was fully dilated. And everyone around me expecting this to go quickly just made me even more afraid that it wouldn't. Even when I started to feel myself pushing with the contractions.

But this nurse was absolutely fantastic. She heard the change in my vocalizations before I even considered telling her, and asked if I was pushing. I said yes, sort of, and she was ready for business right away. She asked if she could check me, and I reluctantly said yes. I thought I was probably only at a 7. And I didn't know how I could possibly go on much longer. I think I told Alex as much. In fact, I was mentally preparing myself to ask for an epidural because I was just. so. tired. But much to my delight and relief I was a 9 and completely effaced--and the nurse said I could go ahead and push as I needed to.

The miracles didn't stop there--when she called for the doctor she discovered that my not-favorite OB was still in the middle of a C-section and so I got the other Kaiser OB. They got things set up, made suggestions for position changes rather than giving directions, and were quite simply amazing.

I pushed for about 20 minutes. At first pushing didn't seem to be doing much, so I asked the doctor to break my water and she also had me lie back a little more to help Colette maneuver past my pubic bone. Pushing was so much more work than I remembered, but I was so relieved to finally be at this point.  

During this time it was discovered that for some reason my second dose of antibiotics hadn't actually been ordered and so they weren't going to be able to administer it in time. Then Colette's heart rate started doing unpleasant things, so they attached an internal monitor. They really didn't like what they were seeing, called a NICU team, and told me she needed to be out now. I pushed so hard I almost blacked out a couple times, and I yelled so loud that I had a sore throat and cough for several days. They gave me oxygen (which I hate--the mask makes me feel claustrophobic), and finally there she was. It hurt more than I remembered with the boys and I was sure she was huge and I had torn like crazy.

They put her on my chest and despite the panic of the last few minutes she was absolutely fine. She pinked up and was breathing and crying immediately. I was sobbing and shaking--the usual afterbirth rush of hormones and relief and crazy joy.

Blah blah blah, placenta, blah blah blah, hurt more than I remembered... And much to my relief I did not need stitches--just "skid marks" yet again. Thank goodness for that. The afterbirth pains were so strong that I actually felt myself involuntarily pushing even after I had delivered the placenta. And then I had some weird spasms for about half an hour that I can only think must have been due to her butting her head against my pubic bone for so long.

She was 20 1/4" long and 8 lbs even, and I was delighted that this did not qualify her as "large for gestational age," and we were therefore able to skip the every-two-hours-heel-pricks to monitor blood sugar. She nursed well but had a shallow latch, so we had a good week of it being pretty painful before nursing was smooth going. I don't think my crazy overactive supply made latching any easier for her.

And that is the unnecessarily long tale of Colette Cynthia's birth. Heaven help us (or you, rather) if/when we have number 5... I'll need to write an entire novel about the birth!

But speaking of #5 (ha, gotcha!) everyone at the hospital was very... impressed (for lack of a better word) that this was baby #4 in only 5 years. And as the nurse was helping us into the car and saying goodbye she said "See you again next year!" It was almost funny... I guess when you have three babies at the same hospital within three years they just kind of count on you to be a regular customer.

2015: Year in Review (Part II)

Part I

July

We discovered that Liam absolutely does not like anything that goes pop, snap, or bang. The 4th of July was more than a little traumatic for him...

Liam started putting together puzzles without any help and Michael made a self-motivated leap from sounding out words when prompted to reading entire books to himself (and he hasn't stopped since).

We had another lovely visit from my mom.

And John Paul continued to develop his own little unique sense of humor (a prelude to developing his own little unique sense of mischief, naturally).

August
Alex went back to school, we welcomed a new nephew, and the boys and I spent a lot of time in the basement playing Iron Chef America.

Iron Chef Michael presenting his dish to the judges

 We also started what should have been a small house project (clear the drain in our bathroom sink). But it turned into a long, drawn-out process of totally replacing the vanity and plumbing. Michael was a great helper.

September
I started my fourth year of teaching for the Denver Catholic Biblical and Catechetical Schools and worked too many late nights to finish up writing projects before going on maternity leave at the end of October.

October
We started counting down to little Colette's arrival (starting the anxious count down waaaay too soon, as usual). More late nights writing.

At the end of October my mom came out to spend a whole month with us and Alex and I took our very first baby moon and spent a night away at a lovely little bed and breakfast. I didn't get any pictures, naturally.

November
Liam turned 3.

Colette finally made her appearance on the 14th, the day after her due date. You can read more than you ever wanted to know about here birth here.

Her brothers have not stopped adoring her.

Okay, none of us have!

a special sweater made for her by a family friend

Colette was baptized on November 29th.

We were thrilled to have my mom with us for a whole month, and for Dad to join us for Thanksgiving. We were thoroughly spoiled by all the time we got to spend with my parents in 2015, and I think we are all still going through withdrawals!

December
I enjoyed my maternity leave and we worked on adjusting to life as a family of six (okay, we're still adjusting). We had a wonderful Advent and Christmas, and much to my relief neither John Paul nor Liam managed to pull the Christmas tree down on themselves during their daily un-decorating binges!

2015: Year in Review and Massive Photo Dump (Part I)

I love year-in-review posts. Well, let me clarify. I love reading other people's posts, but I find them incredibly difficult to write. They take such a long time and I find myself wondering "Wow, what did we do that month? Anything? Apparently not..." But I'll try anyway--especially since I was so horrible about blogging in 2015 AND I didn't do a Christmas newsletter.

January
We started the year out by choosing a patron saint for our family with Jennifer Fulwiler's Saint's Name Generator. Our patron for 2015 was St. Godehard of Hildesheim, feast day May 4th, patron of traveling merchants (not really applicable), and against childhood sickness (hooray!) danger at sea (not planning any transoceanic trips, but good to know), fever (hooray!), hailstorms (well, we'd love a new roof but better not to have to deal with it), Oh, and against birth pains. Well, I guess that one's wasted because we're planning on waiting a while to try for #4 and won't be delivering a baby in 2015. Ha. Hahahaha. (This, friends, is what we call foreshadowing...)

Michael turned 4.

Alex and I celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary.

Alex helped sponsor the high school's trip to March for Life in DC for the second year, and my wonderful parents came out to spend the long weekend with me and the boys.

February
Lots of time spent writing, *finally* got a second crib and moved JP from his little bassinet to a real crib in his own room, and, um... it was cold? See? These posts are so hard!

March

We found out we would, in fact, be having a baby this year. We took the pregnancy test on March 6th, the feast day of St. Colette--the name we'd had picked out for a girl for several years. So right from the beginning I was 99.99% sure we were having a girl.

John Paul turned 1 and took his first couple of steps.

We acquired a hand-me-down piano from my parents.

April

We spent Easter in Lincoln with my family and 7 out of 10 people in the house came down with the stomach flu. But it was a great visit anyway!

John Paul got his first hair cut and started walking in earnest.

May
We enjoyed a visit from my sister and her family.

At the end of May we went camping for the first time as a family. It was... quite the adventure. I loved camping growing up, and I hope we get to do a lot more as the kiddos get older. Camping with none of our own gear and three kids four and under was a little stressful. But it was still a beautiful weekend and some good memories.

And at the end of May we were privileged and blessed to attend the ordination of our dear friend and Liam's godfather. And somehow I didn't get any pictures except for a rather lame attempt at a family selfie on our way to the Mass. Sadness.

ignore the nose-picking going on in the backseat, please...

June

We had a gorgeous late spring/early summer and spent as much time in the yard as we could.

I turned 30, and my gut feeling was confirmed at our 20 week ultrasound when we learned that yes, we were adding a girl to the crazy mix of wild little boys.

a perfect birthday celebration at home with my boys

John Paul did not approve of the Otter Pops

We spent the last part of June visiting family in North and South Dakota. As always sleep was the hardest part of the trip, but we had a blast and the boys were such patient and fun travelling buddies.

meeting second cousins

we had a lovely visit with Alex's grandma--and despite his best attempts, John Paul did not manage to completely destroy her home OR throw himself down any crazy steep staircases

at the lovely cabin we rented with my parents and sister--it was so special to spend a week all together in the Black Hills

fishing

success!

we Rappanas are serious about our popcorn

we loved all the time with cousin James

And with that I think I'll have to make this into two parts so I don't break the internet with the number of photos in one blog post... Part II here.