Different

dif·fer·ent adjective. Not the same.

  As I chopped fresh basil from the plant growing on my windowsill, I felt small hands brace themselves on the back of my leg to use me to stand up. I finished chopping the basil and glanced back behind me to find two big blue eyes staring up at me. Our eyes met and we both smiled. Rosalie climbed down and went back to playing with the measuring cups I had given her, as I tossed the basil into the spaghetti I was making. I stared at the pan. Grass fed, hormone free beef with organic fresh tomatoes, fresh home grown basil, and homemade spaghetti sauce I had canned earlier this summer. When did this happen? When did I care about whether something was organic or grass fed? And me, using fresh cut tomatoes! If you would have told me a year and a half ago my spaghetti wouldn't just be a regular pack of hamburger meat with a can of Prego I would look at you like you're crazy. 

  I'm different now. Rosalie has changed my way of thinking completely. I'm conscious of what I put in my body, of what she sees me eating. She's finally old enough and at the stage where she wants to eat what I'm eating and actually can. I don't want to be chowing down on junk food and not be able to share or have to tell her, no you can't have this, it's not good. Well, if it's not good, why am I eating it? I recently started buying vegetables and fruits I've avoided because, well, they look intimidating. Asparagus, cauliflower, zucchini squash, tomatoes, blueberries. I didn't like any of these things. Most I didn't know how to prepare. Now I'm starting to prepare and eat them on a weekly basis. My palate is changing. I can eat bell pepper raw now. I used to turn my nose up at it and think "How could anyone even eat that?" I'm trying new things because I don't want Rosalie to see me turn down something healthy that I would want her to eat just because I don't like it. 

  I'm different now, and it's not a bad thing.

  Rosalie amazes me every day with how smart and beautiful she is. She is constantly picking up on new things. She will do something she knows is wrong, but will look at me first to make sure I see her. She is fast and strong and becoming more independent every day. Loud new noises scare her though so she'll quickly crawl to me.  She has meltdowns where she will cry in one place and I have to go to her. She likes watching the music video "What Does The Fox Say" with Daddy. She loves to play and likes to "sing" loudly when she's tired and doesn't want to sleep. She has favorite TV shows and gets mad when they end and something else comes on. She hates bath time but loves our after bath routine of looking at our reflections in the mirror.

  She is perfect to me and challenges me to be better not only for myself and my husband, but for her. She's made me challenge everything that has to do with raising her and I'm glad.

  I'm different now, and I enjoy these small Twinkles in Time in this blessed life I've been given.

Thanks for reading.

Canning

Cucumbers ready for canning!

can·ning

[kan-ing]

the act, process, or business of preserving cooked food by sealing in cans or jars.

 

 

   Two weekends ago my Aunt Sharon came to visit for two days while my mom and sister were visiting from Alaska. We haven't seen each other in a while so it was a very fun two days as it always is when my family gets together. Between reminiscing with old photos, skyping with grandparents, bowling, and spending fun quality time together, my Aunt took the time to teach me how to can!

 

   I had previously attempted canning. I had bought cans and attempted pickles, but when they turned out horribly wrong I gave up hope. My Aunt swooped in and showed me how easy canning is and I am so glad she did! The pickles we made are fantastic and were so easy to create!

 

 Our supplies list was small: 

• Canning Jars with lids and rings
• Pots to cook the brine and sanitize the jars (we also did the water bath in the large pot)
• Canning utensils (tongs to get the jars out of the water, a funnel for adding the brine into the jars, etc)
• Cucumbers!
• Pickling spice mix (I used a prepackaged Dill mix by Mrs Wages, the pickles I attempted before this was an online homemade recipe.)
• Vinegar

 

Pickles!!!

 

   We made pickle spears, slices and chips. Since then I have made tomato sauce, spaghetti sauce, and homemade 'ro*tel'. I attempted apple jelly but sadly it did not turn out to be the correct consistency but I won't lose hope this time!

 

   There will be times I will fail again but it's a learning process. It especially takes determination and stamina (The spaghetti sauce/ro*tel was an all day ordeal, thanks Mom for the help!) Thanks again Aunt Sharon!

 

   I'm so glad my mom and sister got to come visit for 2 weeks. They were such a nice help with Rosalie. It is always such a blessing to see them for any length of time. We had a lot of fun and those two weeks went by incredibly fast.(Sadly!) My mom enjoyed every moment with Rosalie and my sister enjoyed every moment she got to eat Chick-fil-a! (She enjoyed time with Rosalie too though but that girl loves her chicken salad sandwiches!) 

   

  One thing that being a military wife has taught me is that every moment spent with those you love is a precious moment indeed.  

                     

 *Twinkles* in Time last but a moment.

   Speaking of those you love, my husband has a date to return home from overseas! Due to security reasons I can't say it, but He will be home [this] month! It has been a long 5 months and I am very ready for him to be home again. Our first deployment has been quite a journey. I've had every emotion from here to the moon and honestly, half of them I don't care for much. Nevertheless, I am very proud of my Husband and his service to our Country and the discomforting things that come with deployments is, in my mind, a small price to pay.

 

  I am indefinitely blessed. 

 

Thanks for reading. (:

Strength

Strength

[strengkth, strength, strenth]

1. the quality or state of being strong; bodily or muscular power; vigor.

2. mental power, force, or vigor.

3. moral power, firmness, or courage.

All three of the above definitions I wish I had more of. I used to think of myself as strong. That I could handle any situation thrown my way and be just fine. The past three months have been the biggest test of strength I've ever had. It's been, without a doubt, a humbling experience that God knew I needed. It's tough. Motherhood is tough. It's even more so when you are alone. I haven't made this known via social media so most of you probably don't know, but my husband has been deployed overseas for three months now. He left two days after our sweet baby girl turned two months old.

Two weeks after he left my baby started to have blood in her stool. In every single stool diaper it was there. It was a small amount, but ever present. She also broke out in eczema. I took her in for stool tests of all sorts and blood tests and the doctors couldn't give me any answers. I spent hours and hours looking for answers anywhere I could find them, whether books, the internet or other moms. I was alone and desperate for answers.

I felt so very alone. My husbands lack of presence was everywhere. The empty space next to me on the couch, the kitchen table, the bed, the car. It was inescapable. I've been alone 24/7 with my baby. I've soothed every tear, changed every diaper, gave every bath, seen every milestone. I wished my husband was home so I wouldn't have to figure out this parenting thing alone. Every day that went by I just wanted my baby to be better. I woke up dreading the day because I knew I would keep seeing the blood.

I tried cloth diapering on three separate occasions and she would just break out in a rash despite all my best tries to prevent it. 

I felt like a failure as a parent.

 My baby girl is the happiest baby I've ever seen despite what was going on with her. I definitely know that was the grace of God on me because had she been in pain and crying all the time I would have lost all sanity.

"Trust in Me."

I struggled to trust God. I was trying to put my faith everywhere else. The doctors failed me. But God is the great physician, not them. He gave me all the answers I needed for my baby through others.

In happiness I can say she's been blood free for a week now and her eczema has cleared. It took me eating only turkey, rice, pears, spaghetti squash, salt and pepper for one and one half weeks to fix the issues. I have no doubt it will stay gone, mostly because I'm stubborn.

The blood was due to intolerance's to proteins of different foods I was eating.

I have had to cut gluten, dairy, eggs, soy, tree nuts, corn, spicy foods, and acidic foods.

I am proudly still breastfeeding her and have no intention of giving up to eat the said above foods. Parenting is a journey that I've just started and I am quickly learning it's full of sacrifices and is hard work but the smiles and love I receive from my baby makes the daily struggle worth it.

God has sustained me these past few months even though most of it I tried to handle in my own strength. He only needs faith the size of a mustard seed to move mountains and I was too caught up in my worries and stress to stop and have faith that He is able to do exceedingly abundantly all that I could ask or think(Eph. 3:20) 

We are half way through this deployment and I don't know what the next three months has in store but I know that God is next to me on the couch, and the kitchen table, and the bed and the car. He never left, I just was too self righteous to see Him.

If there's anything you take from this blog post please remember this. God is always there with His arms outstretched saying "Trust in Me." Don't be stubborn like me and try to shoulder the burden whether you're alone or not.

Thanks for reading and God bless our troops.

 Photo taken the day he left.

Present day

Baby

ba·by

    

ba·by [bey-bee]  plural ba·bies, adjective, verb, ba·bied, ba·by·ing

1. an infant or very young child.

2. a newborn

I'm not really sure how to start this post. All of my previous posts the subjects were so easily approachable compared to this one. So I guess I will start by recording the moments leading up to my precious little Rosalie's birth and go from there.

Rosalie Catherine Conner was due on November 21st, as the day came and went I didn't bat an eyelash. The way I see it was she had her own date and it just wasn't that one. 

I was five days overdue at my doctor's appointment the following week, and my doctor suggested setting up an induction date. It was fine to be overdue but doctors do not recommend going past 10 days of the due date as the placenta begins to crystallize and die, the baby's weight will start to drop, and the stillborn rate rises. As much as I wanted her to come on her own time, I did not want her health at risk so we scheduled the induction for exactly 10 days after her due date. My doctor was sure little Rosalie would come before then. This was Tuesday.

 After researching induction Friday night and sleeping on it, I awoke second guessing my decision Sunday morning, the day of the induction. I tried to cancel and set up tests to see how Rosalie was doing instead. After all, if she's healthy why rush her coming?

My doctor was against backing out of the induction. So I decided come what may from the risks of induction I would go to the hospital that night at 11:45pm to get things going. My wonderful Husband and Mom accompanied me to be my support, and very supportive they were!

   
I was nervous but I knew if I focused on the fact that I would be holding my baby soon that no matter what I was about to face it would all be worth it.
 The nurse came in and hooked up my IV for the pitocin. There was no turning back now!

9 hours of 3 to 5 minute apart pitocin-induced contractions. You might think I'm crazy, but I didn't want any pain medication. Most women are screaming for an epidural on the way to the hospital! Not me though. I'm going to be honest with you right now, I've never had more faith in myself and in God then those 9 hours and the next hour that followed. Yes, the contractions hurt. Really. Bad. I can't describe the pain to you because I've not had anywhere near that amount of pain in my life before. I almost lost it a few times. I almost cried a few times. I never asked for the epidural though. I knew in the depth of my soul that I would not forgive myself if I did just for some relief. I didn't want something that would not only make me unable to feel and control my body but that would enter the umbilical cord and enter my newborn baby. I was not about to drug my new baby! So I stuck it out and boy was it worth it.

When the nurses came in after I had reached the desired 10 cm and told me my doctor was here so they were going to break my water, I wasn't sure what to think. After they did, boy did the flood gates flow and the desire to push became the most overwhelming thing I've ever felt in my life. I remember trying to talk through a contraction saying "I'm sorry, I think I just pee'd. I'm so sorry." Apparently that was just my water breaking. It was totally weird, but anyways...They didn't want me to push quite yet because my doctor wasn't in the room yet and they were still setting up their instruments and getting everything ready. 

Well, oh well for them. but I couldn't NOT push. It just wasn't happening. So they ran and grabbed my doctor and got everything in place a little faster then they thought. 

At this point, I had been awake for 36 hours and hadn't eaten for 18 hours. I have never been so tired in all my life, the contractions had taken so much out of me, but hey, that's childbirth for you!

I was so tired, pushing out little Rosalie was really, really hard for me. Contraction after contraction passed with me pushing to no avail and I knew I was so close and the frustration of struggling and failing was weighing on me so much, even more-so than the fatigue. They put an oxygen mask on me to help Rosalie and myself get some air.

Time froze for me when my doctor looked at me from under her face mask and hospital cap and said "Candice, the baby's heart-rate is dropping more than we'd like to see. You need to get her out in these next couple of pushes, okay?"

Well, yeah, duh. I want to push her out. I wanted her out 7 pushes ago. I was giving it all I had, but hearing that was the kick-start of my real adrenaline rush. I got her out in those next few pushes.

Words. There are no words. Nothing could describe the feeling, but I'll try to use words since we are humans and they are how we communicate. 

Joy. Relief. Pride. Accomplishment. Happiness. Bliss.
Motherhood.

She was so tiny and fragile-looking and slimy and wrinkly and beautiful and perfect.

That was 7 weeks ago. She amazes me every day how much she continues to learn and grow and change. She's the sweetest, prettiest baby I've ever seen. But maybe I'm just being biased. (: