at the wire...

It's been far... far... too long, but I just realized I almost let 2018 go without a blog. While that probably explains a lot about the year, I had to say something. I'm stealing a post from Jen Hatmaker's instagram today. We had some lows this year for sure, but here are some highs... 

1. Best thing that happened this year: 

We stuck together. When things get tough, it's easy to run, but we stuck together. Steve and I didn't have a ton of time together pre-wedding to work through conflict or practice working together so it's definitely been a "learn as you go" experience. We're still learning, but every time we get a little better, I'm so grateful. 

2. Best person you met this year: 

Lucas Barrett. Lucas was born February 22 and we've spent the last 10 months just soaking up every minute with him. He has been our inquisitive one. We have to work a lot harder to get him to smile, but when he starts to cackle, it's that much more worth it. Lucas was such a low maintenance baby and it was like he knew he needed to cut us some slack so we could spend more time with Britt. 

3. Best thing you pulled off this year: 

Others may disagree, but somehow I balanced the whole "working mom" thing. It's far from perfect, but I pulled it off. 

a working mom...

Britt is great at alumni affairs

I'm not sure I really comprehended the guilt moms face until I became one. I feel like I spent plenty of time around moms beforehand and I knew about all the debates between natural birth vs. everything else and breastfeeding vs. formula and disposable diapers vs. cloth and chemicals vs. natural. I felt like I had done my research and made some decisions while deciding to play the others by ear. Social media allows people to share their opinion freely so you can usually tell where people fit in the debates. Even if they're not posting their opinion directly, they're sharing others' opinions or at least liking others' posts about it.

I know I didn't prepare myself for the shame that can tie itself to the guilt. I nursed Britt exclusively at first. I felt like that's all I did and at eight weeks and after way too many weight checks, he was still not gaining weight like he should so our pediatrician suggested supplementing. She said I took it better than she thought I would, but there was such relief to have a medical professional tell me Britt needed formula. Surely no one could look down on me for giving Britt formula if my doctor told me I had to! There was still a part of me that wanted a doctor's note or something as I hid the formula when we were out in public.. hoping people would think it was some of my milk in the bottle.

I never thought I would care about the stay at home vs. working mom debate. My best friend is a stay at home mom while my mom and sisters are working moms. I've just never seen myself as a stay at home mom... even when I dreamt of having 12 kids. In reality, it's unlikely anyone can have 12 kids and afford the childcare, but I've always assumed I would work. And then people started asking questions. Are you going back to work? How long is your maternity leave? You're going back already? Who is taking care of Britt? You're taking him to a daycare? Most of it was probably innocent and not nearly as judgy as it sounded in my whacked out postpartum hormone head, but I started feeling guilty.

I went back to work "part-time" when Britt was just over six weeks old. My boss was so flexible and offered to let me stay home longer and I burst into tears at the thought of it. I needed to come back to work, and yet I felt so guilty for wanting to work. I didn't have enough sick time or vacation time to get all six weeks paid leave. Thankfully I had short-term disability to help make up some of the difference and I used financial need to justify my quick return, but in reality I needed an outlet. I think I'm a better mom when I go to work, and yet I hate when I miss things because I "have" to work. I'm fortunate to have a job where I can bring Britt to some of our events. He has traveled to Orlando and Nashville for work and I've had college students babysit him while I run to a meeting real quick or try to pull off a successful event. There is a sense of relief when I drop off Britt at daycare and I have even more relief when I get home from work and I get to see his smile when I walk in the door. I have to remind myself that I can love Britt and still enjoy work.

I keep telling myself that being a working mom is making him more adaptable... that daycare is making his immune system stronger... that he has good social skills, but I never want to take away from the moms who stay at home. Sometimes we try to make ourselves feel better and end up making other people feel like crap... unintentionally of course. My justification could come off as if my son of a working mom will be smarter or more socialized than the son of a stay at home mom. Or maybe your son of a stay at home mom will be smarter because you never left his side and taught him how to read at nine months. Maybe we just need thicker skin... or less guilt.

Dear Britt...

Dear Britt,

Your dad and I had a dedication for you at church this morning. Some babies are baptized, but your dad and I don't believe that baptism really does anything for you as a baby. (Even as an adult, it's a symbol and one we both took part in, but it didn't save us.) Instead of a baptism this morning, we had a time where we dedicated ourselves and our home to God. We prayed that we could nurture and love you toward making your own decision to follow Christ someday. The church committed to supporting us along the way. If you're reading this, I hope it means you have found your way to Him.

I've been praying for you for a long time.. before you were even born. I've prayed you would be healthy and kind and maybe a little athletic.. but even more so I've prayed you would see how much you need God. Sometimes it's hard for "good" people to understand why they need God. And sometimes when you grow up in church, it becomes more of a habit or even something that your family does, but I'm praying you find a faith that is all your own.

No matter what, please know you are loved and I am so proud of you. Choosing Christ.. choosing life.. it's not always the most popular thing or the easiest thing, but it's what I want most for you. Even thinking about our time this morning praying for you, I tear up thinking about what hard decisions you may have to make and I wish I could always be there to protect you, but I can't. You'll grow up and mature and probably push and pull a little to do more on your own before I'm ready but I promise I'll try. I'll try to find that balance between what you want and what you need.. the balance between what I want and what you need.

You have brought so much joy into our lives and it's only been six months. I can't wait to watch you grow up and I just feel privileged to know I'm your mom. Your dad and I are praying for you Britt... every day.

Love,
Mom

welcome Britt..

There's no way to predict how labor and delivery will go and I'm so glad I didn't even try. There are some women who go to the hospital with a pretty detailed birth plan. I went empty handed just hoping to leave with a baby. As much of a planner I am, I tried not to plan too much throughout my pregnancy.

Britt was due Monday, the 21st, but I went to work with no signs of the stubborn bugger. I went to the doctor the next day and after scheduling an induction for the 28th-29th, I marched 20 flights of stairs to help push things along, wrote a blog, and then resigned myself to having a baby on the 29th. My parents decided to still come down the next day and my aunt and little sister were coming down for Easter weekend so I was more worried about entertaining guests and seeing everyone. 

Of course as soon as I let go of the due date, I woke up Wednesday morning with contractions. I tried to wait them out for awhile before waking up Steve. They were about 5-7 minutes apart, but still not very consistent. Steve was not too concerned since the doctor talked about going to the hospital at five minutes, and he thought we were waiting for them to be five minutes long! Thank goodness that's something we don't have to worry about! 

Steve went ahead and got ready for work, but decided not to go just yet. I wanted to call the doctor at 8 and see if we could go in and at least get checked. At 8 they were still inconsistent so we went for a walk. We eventually went to the doctor and he said I was only at 2-3 centimeters, so he did a membrane sweep and sent us on our way. I was optimistic that might get things moving so we went to the mall for lunch and walked some more. We gave up after awhile and went home to wait for my parents to get here. My mom and I went for a walk and then they took us to dinner at Outback. I could feel the contractions getting more intense and by 8:30 I was convinced I had to be more dilated... they were consistently 3-5 minutes apart. I called the doctor's office and they had my doctor call me, but knowing this was my first he encouraged me to stay home for at least another hour. I didn't know if I could make it that long, but we left around 9:30 and made our way to the hospital... only to find out I was still only 2-3 centimeters. I had no desire to go home and thankfully they told me they'd hold a bed for me if I would walk the hospital for two hours. So for two hours Steve and I wasn't walking through them, but really exhaustion was the overwhelming feeling. I had been awake since 4 am so walking from 11 pm to 1 am was not exactly what I wanted to be doing. 

They checked me again and even though I was barely at 4 cm, if that, they said they'd admit me and I could've cried from relief. They eventually gave me some pain medicine. I tried sleeping between contractions, but evidently I wasn't very pleasant. At some point they gave me pitocin and an epidural and Steve claims my demeanor changed immediately. I am now a huge fan of epidurals. I know many women survived childbirth without epidurals, but now that we have such fine drugs, I have no desire to be a hero. Drugs to the rescue. 

Finally somewhere around 10 am or so, I reached 10 cm and got to push. I pushed for an hour and I could tell from the look on my nurse's face that we weren't making much progress. They gave me a break and the doctor suggested drawing back the epidural some so I could feel the contractions. The anesthesiologist came in and thankfully I knew her from working on the Play 4Kay committee at Methodist. She made a comment about doctors who want her to draw the drugs back and then they decide to go with a c-section and she has to give more drugs, but "don't worry that won't happen to you!" When she left I told Steve that made me a little nervous and he agreed. Everyone came back in and we started the pushing process again. They could see Britt's head and let us know he had a ton of hair, but he was still not making his entrance. After the second hour, my doctor said I could push for another hour, but he really felt like we were dealing with a big kid and wasn't convinced he was going to budge so he gave me the option of a c-section. 

After laboring for more than 30 hours, I was grateful for him giving me the option. I asked Steve if he cared and then told the doctor to sign me up for the c-section. I know there are some people who criticize c-sections for not being "real" birth... especially since mine was elective even if the doctor suggested it. But I couldn't disagree more... I still feel a bit of a twinge any time someone hears I delivered via c-section and they give me the judgy look. Especially when I tell them the doctor felt he was too big and then I tell them he weighed 9 lb 1 oz and they make sure to let me know they birthed an 11 pound baby vaginally without an epidural. And then I remind myself to get a grip and not let others decide how I should feel about my birthing experience. 

Back to Britt... once we opted for the c-section, things moved quickly. Someone took Steve to get him ready and they wheeled me to the operating room. (By the way... moving me from one bed to the other with my dead legs was very comical!) They warned me I might puke and I absolutely yakked all over myself... it was glamorous and I'm just sorry Steve missed it. Once everyone made it to the operating room, I tried not to pay attention to what was happening behind the curtain. I eventually heard someone say something about a boy and then I heard Britt cry. It was the most beautiful cry I've ever heard. It is hard to feel so helpless while your baby is crying and you're tied to an operating table, but they cleaned him up and gave him to Steve so he could bring him to me. I couldn't hold him, but we had some cheek to cheek bonding. I hadn't cried all day, but knowing he was finally here made me weep.

It's hard to put into words what it's like to meet your child. There's so much anticipation... years and years of waiting not to mention the 40 plus weeks of pregnancy. There are so many children born every day, sometimes we blow past the miracle of life, but I had to pause and think about this kid (that I would eventually get to hold in recovery) that was the perfect combination of me and Steve and had grown inside my body... Every time I hold him to my chest, Steve and I look at how long he is and can't get over the fact that he was all balled up inside of me.

I don't think birthing a child makes a woman any more woman than she already was, but it has made me more grateful to be a woman. I'm more appreciative of my mom popping out my 9 lb 6 oz self like a boss. I'm more in awe of how God uses us to multiply His creation. I'm more in love with my husband who continues to spoil me while being the best dad to Britt. I know Britt will continue to challenge us, but I hope the challenges keep us chasing after God, bringing us closer to each other.

P.S. I've had a few people ask us about Britt's name. The Dockery family has a tradition of using Steve/Steven and the mother's maiden name. Steve is Steven Barrett and Britt is Steven Britt. I wanted to avoid the confusion of two Steve's so we call him Britt although I still get confused when we get mail for Steven B. Dockery.