The birth story of Lincoln Daniel Johnson

I'm warning you now, this is long... Starting a couple of weeks before my due date I was having a few contractions here and there. Nothing worth getting excited about, just Braxton hicks. My midwife had checked me at my 37 week appointment just to see if they were accomplishing anything and discovered I was about 1.5 cm dilated, 50% effaced, and -1 station. She warned me not to get too excited, and I knew that I could be like that for weeks, so I went about my business hoping he came sooner rather than later because working was getting difficult and frankly I was uncomfortable.
Fast forward to my appointment at 39 weeks, 4 days. I had decided that day was my last day at work. My sub was there that day to shadow me and given my due date was the following Monday I was ready to be done. I had been having more and more contractions throughout the day for the entire week and had my midwife check me for the first time since that 37 week appointment to see where I was- only 2.5 cm. We talked about it and decided to have her strip my membranes. I knew I was further along than with Landon and that it might actually accomplish something productive. I continued to have contractions that night but they never became very close together.
The following day we decided to take Landon for a fun day out given it was likely going to be the last time as a family of three. We went to lunch at Five Guys, the Nature Center for the owl event they were having that day, Build a Bear Workshop where he made a blue dinosaur, and then some ice cream. It was a great day and I had contractions regularly throughout but nothing close together.
In the middle of the night, contractions picked up considerably. I decided to call the on-call midwife and get advice as to when I should come in. She advised me to take a shower and try to get some rest if I could and to come in when they were 5 minutes apart, lasting a minute, for an hour. At that point they were around 6 minutes apart. It was about 1am, and we knew that Tu's parents would still be awake at that point as opposed to in a few hours. We gave them a call and let them know that it was likely we would be heading to the hospital in a few hours and would they want to come get Landon now so we didn't have to wake them up from a dead sleep. Tu's mom came over and just decided to stay so that Landon wasn't woken up and unfortunately the contractions slowed down again. I got some rest and woke up rather annoyed that we weren't at the hospital yet. I refocused myself though, and remembered that he will come when he is ready. I mostly felt guilty that Tu's mother had come out in the middle of the night for no reason.
At that point, contractions were steadily 10 minutes apart. I didn't like how far apart they were, but at least it was a steady pattern. We decided to have Landon go home with Gram as things were definitely looking promising for that day at some point. We had some lunch, took a nap, and then decided I needed to be walking. We needed a few things from Target anyways so we decided to go shop. Walking around Target for about an hour started to do the trick as the contractions started to get to that magic 5-minute mark. When we got bored with Target, we went to Wal-Mart. Both were right by the hospital and if it was going to be time to go, I didn't want to go all the way back home again. After walking around Wal-Mart for about an hour as well, they were right where they needed to be and getting more intense. It was dinner time at that point, and remembering how Landon's labor went, we decided to get some dinner first, and then go to the hospital.
A Jimmy John's sandwich later we drove to the hospital a block away. Following the instructions at the information desk we were directed to the maternity ward and laughed when we saw the incredibly long hallway that we had to walk down to get to that department. Jokingly we said that if I wasn't in labor before I got there, this walk would do it. I had to stop three times for contractions in that hallway it was so damn long. Then we had to wait for a triage room, and then the triage nurse, all along with things getting more intense and me trying to keep anxiety of being in the hospital and hoping everything worked out at bay.
Finally the on-call midwife came in and checked me, letting me know I was at a 4. I instantly was anxious that they might send me home because my contractions had slowed a bit but also because 4 was what I was at when we got checked in with Landon. They didn't though, asking me if I wanted to "stay and have a baby." I was moved to the infamous Room 11 (the only labor room with a labor tub) that I had requested and they got me settled. It was around 7pm.
Being in the tub was wonderful. I really felt like it made contractions easier and kept me relaxed- something that I was really focused on after my experience with Landon. Things started to get intense fairly quickly and while I had hoped that I was progressing much more quickly than with Landon, psychologically I assumed that we would be doing the waiting game for many more hours. I stayed in the tub for a while, then took a break and sat on a ball for a bit. At one point while sitting on the ball I made a comment to Tu that I felt like we were so close yet so far away. He asked me what I meant and I explained that I was happy we were going to be meeting our baby soon but I felt like it was still going to be many hours like with Landon. He said it wasn't going to be that long, to which I asked him how in the world did he know that. He said that I wasn't moaning and having as much difficulty with the contractions at this point with Landon. I challenged his memory on that given he can't remember what he had for dinner the day before, but he assured me that he did not forget that.
I wanted to get back into the tub as things were getting really painful and I knew it would make it a little easier. I was on all fours in the water with Tu using the shower head to spray hot water on my back during the contractions. It was glorious- well, as glorious as a contraction can be. This was around 10pm or so but to be honest I was not keeping as careful track of the times as I was with Landon's labor- which I guess is a good thing because my focus was on getting through each contraction rather than how long things were taking.
With the contractions at this point I started feeling a lot of pressure. Or what I thought was pressure anyways. I didn't get to feel that with Landon so I wasn't sure what it meant, though I hoped it meant I was very close. My midwife, who had largely let us be alone unless we needed anything, came in to check on us and we shared that I was feeling a lot of pressure. She asked if I wanted to be checked and I thought it would be a good idea. I got out of the tub, moved to the bed, and we discovered that I was 8cm. Which was great, but I instantly was fighting off the anxiety of being at an 8 given my experience before. My midwife, knowing what I went though, was quick to tell me that it was a "squishy 8" and that I was not going to be stuck there again. A few really intense contractions later, and even more really intense pressure and she checked me again to discover I was at 9cm already. She told me she had a special peanut shaped yoga ball that if I could stand it, warning that it "would suck" she wanted to put me on my side with my leg over the peanut to try and get the last bit of dilation I needed. I agreed and made it through several contractions on my left side, and then I flipped over to my right. After a few contractions on my right side that were so intense that my moans (rather, screams) were probably heard out in the hallway, I was fully dilated and ready to push.
Again, I'm not sure of the time, but I want to say it was around 11 because pushing was very quick. After a few pushes I started feeling the dreaded ring of fire. There were several pushes were I was convinced that his head would have had to come out with what I felt but alas it did not. I even asked Tu at one point, "please tell me his head is out" and he just kept saying "he's so close!" My midwife took my hand and guided it to feel his hair and I felt that only the top of his head was exposed. I geared up and pushed even more intensely because I wanted that baby out of me! A few more really strong and intense pushes and finally his head came out followed quickly by the rest of him. They told me to grab my baby and I pulled him to my chest in sweet relief at 11:26pm. He let out the most adorable little cry, just enough to let us know he was ok, and then proceeded to just calmly lay on my chest, likely trying to figure out what in the heck had just happened to him.
We snuggled with him for about an hour before we let them take him to be weighed and measured and he was absolutely healthy. Fortunately for me, he was about a pound and a half smaller than his brother- which likely played into the easier delivery! He was bundled up, we moved into our post-partum room, and settled in for our first night with our second little guy. Overall, it was a wonderful experience (as wonderful as excruciating pain can be) and really helped me to heal mentally from the stressful and disappointing labor with Landon. Welcome to the world Lincoln Daniel!

The Birth Story of Landon Maurice Johnson

On July 4^th, I had my first contraction. The day before my doctor had stripped my membranes in an effort to get things going, but nothing had happened. She said there was a 50/50 chance of labor starting within 24 hours. If it didn’t work, we’d see her next week. Well, from the next day, I started having contractions here and there. Nothing significant by any means, so I knew that I wasn’t going to go into real labor just yet, but it was exciting knowing that it was close. On Thursday, July 5^th, contractions got as close together as 8 minutes. They had gone from every hour, to every 15 minutes, to 8 minutes over the course of the afternoon so we thought, maybe this could be the night. We had everybody on alert for the possibility, and decided to not go into work the next day (it was going to be our last day of work anyways). I was able to sleep through the night and woke up to contractions every 30 minutes. Since we had already decided to take the day off, we decided to go for a nice long walk, and spend the day trying to get things going. It didn’t work. Several days later, of walking, picking up family from the airport, eating spicy foods, and sitting on a yoga ball resulted in nothing but contractions every 6-15 minutes over those 5 days. My due date came and went on July 8^th with no change.

Monday, July 9^th was my 40 week OB apt. I was so hopeful that with all of the contractions I had been having there would be some change from the 2-3cm I was dilated when she had stripped my membranes the week before. Lucky for me, she said I was 3-4 cm dilated, completely effaced and the baby was much lower! She stripped my membranes again with my permission which she said pushed me to 4cm dilated and would hopefully get things really moving. At that point she declared I was in active labor, but as I was planning a natural birth there was certainly no reason to go to the hospital yet. I was instructed to take a walk and maybe she would see me again sometime soon. My husband Tu, my mom and I decided to go to Ikea to get a night light for the baby we had wanted and have some lunch. While there, I started having some decent contractions that were getting closer and closer together. We headed home and decided to start timing them. I sat on the yoga ball, walked around, and did what I could to get things moving even more. As things got intense, Tu suggested that I take a bath to relax a bit and see if it stalled things out at all in order to determine if we might be actually progressing. I also hadn’t been able to sleep much since 2am so he wanted me to get some rest if this was the real deal.

I had been using a contraction counter app on my phone that I didn’t want to use in the tub so every time I had one, I would yell out to him so he could make note. I was in a zone and was out of it in between contractions so I had no idea just how close together they were. I actually thought that maybe they slowed down, but after a bit Tu came into the bathroom to tell me that when I felt I was ready, we should get ourselves around to go to the hospital. We had decided to wait until about 3 minutes apart to go, in case we ran into some traffic as it was about 7pm, and in LA that is still rush hour- I did not want a freeway baby! I couldn’t believe that they had gotten even closer while I was in the tub. We called my best friend Melissa to come meet us at the apartment so she could follow us to the hospital, and my mom stayed back with the dogs. The 20 minute car ride seemed agonizing, with a bundle of nerves and also pain from having to stay buckled in a sitting position. My mom had wanted me to try to eat something before we left, but my stomach was just not going to handle anything except a few crackers that I took with me on the car ride. Once we got to the hospital the nurses sent us to triage first so I could be evaluated and make sure I was progressing enough to be admitted. My contractions at that point were 2-3 minutes apart, and after being checked, the nurse, Leah, said I was still at a 4, with not much change from my OB apt a few hours earlier.

We had established in our birth plan that we wanted the option to return home if I was less than 5cm, but because the contractions were so close together at that point, we realized that we wouldn’t really know when we should come back because obviously we couldn’t check my cervix ourselves, so we decided it was best to stay. I would feel better knowing I was already here and would have the freedom to walk around, use the shower, etc to get things moving just as much as I could at home. Leah got us set up in our room, showed us how to work the bed to help with different laboring positions, and covered my IV heplock so I could use the shower if I wanted to. We settled in, with the hopes of not having too long to wait before we saw any action. Tu and Melissa kept me busy walking around, and giving me back massages with each contraction, and we carried on conversation in between. It was actually sort of fun just to hang out and talk about how much he might weigh, what time he would be born, etc. At this point though it was the middle of the night, and we were tired. Around 11pm, our new nurse, Serene (who I told had a very appropriate name for a Labor and Delivery nurse) checked me and I had progressed to 6cm dilated- so we were moving in the right direction! She encouraged us to try to get some rest while we could, but there was no way I was sleeping. Tu and Melissa traded off sleeping on the sofa in the room, while I closed my eyes when I could, and kept walking when I was feeling restless. At 3am, Serene came to check me again and declared that I had progressed to 8cm. I was so excited because I knew that had to mean I was close to transition, and even though contractions were still manageable, they were getting stronger and the end was near. Serene informed us that once natural moms got to an 8, things tended to go quickly and she was going to have a delivery tray brought in and prepped so that it would be here and ready when the time came.

Tu had been sleeping so when he woke up Melissa and I told him that it could be a matter of hours until we had a baby. I got up to walk around some more, wanting to get things moving as fast as I could. Several hours went by with not much change in my contractions. They were still rather manageable and I was starting to think that maybe I would be really lucky and have an easier labor than anticipated. After a check around 7am, I was still at an 8. I wanted to be frustrated because I had hoped I would be pushing at this point, but I knew a plateau was possible and normal, so I decided to trust my body and just go with it. My doctor came in to check on me before a scheduled surgery and suggested that if we wanted, she could break my water in an attempt to get things moving a bit since I seem to be stuck. I was hesitant, wanting things to progress normally, but said that we would think about it and let her know. She assured us it was up to us and would be back to check on me when her surgery was over. We continued different positions, walking, resting when needed and pushed through what was becoming rather exhausting. We got a new nurse for the day shift, Jennifer, who checked me around 10 and said that yes, unfortunately, I was still only 8cm dilated. At that point, we said that perhaps breaking my water could be a good thing; it might allow his head to become even better engaged and get things moving as it had already been 7 hours since I got to 8cm. Well, when she broke it, nothing came out; all of the water seemed to be back behind his head. It wasn’t until the next time I stood up that I felt a small gush of fluid. Hopeful again that things would be progressing, we kept up with the walking, squatting and different positions to get passed my plateau.

At that point our parents surprised us by showing up at the hospital. We had told them that my water was broken and they seemed to think the baby was going to be here soon. We assured them that it could still be a while and they should keep themselves occupied or even go back to our apartment where they had been waiting all night. Around 1pm Jennifer checked me again and said that I had “just a lip” of cervix left and that if I lay on my left side (where the lip was) it would likely cause the baby to shift a bit and get rid of that little lip that was left. Lying on my side had been really painful, and contractions were not easily managed in that position, but I wanted to get things moving so I forced myself to have mind over matter and push through them. After an hour or so of that, I couldn’t take it anymore and asked Jennifer to please check me again. I knew that it wasn’t a good idea to keep getting checked, especially with broken water, but I had to know that I had accomplished something, and with the strength of the contractions at that point, I just knew something had changed. She obliged, and informed me that I was only 8cm dilated. I was so confused. I asked her what could have happened, why I was “just a lip” an hour before and now I was back to 8. She said that the baby could have shifted and this can happen. At this point I had been at 8cm dilated for over 10 hours, and labor was unbearable. It was all I had in me to push through the rise and fall of each of them every 1-2 minutes. I got to a point where I was actually crying and writhing in pain, something I have never done before, but with the help of Tu, he got me focused and with each one, I stared him straight in the eyes, taking deep breathes and counting in my head. I realized that the worst of it was passing after 20 counts. So I just counted, and breathed and listened to my husband with each one. I was checked again, and still at an 8. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I kept telling myself that everyone says “I can’t do this anymore” during transition, and that if I can just get through this part I would be fine. But I had been in what seemed like “transition” for a few hours- much longer than is average. I was no longer able to relax my body, and with each contraction I was getting extremely tense. My body was fighting against me, and if this kept up, I didn’t see myself progressing at all. There was talk of pitocin by the nurses, that it would make contractions stronger and would hopefully get me fully dilated, but I knew with pitocin contractions would become even more painful, and I wasn’t able to handle them as they were. It was a gut wrenching decision, but I knew that the only way I was going to be able to have this baby was to get an epidural. I needed to relax. Without being able to relax, I wasn’t going to progress anymore.

I cried over it, calling myself a failure, that I should be able to do it. My mom and Tu stood on either side of my bed and pleaded with me to accept that I was not a failure, that I had already done way more than any other person could have done. That I was amazing and strong and by no means was I making this decision on a whim. Tu told the nurse that I wanted to proceed with an epidural and she assured us she would call the anesthesiologist right away. Fortunately, I made the decision just in time as she was about to head into a c-section within the half hour and was able to come and put mine in before she did so. I still felt guilty, and wanted so badly to just change my mind, but I knew it would do me no good to continue as I had been. After the epidural was in place, within a few minutes I felt better physically, but emotionally I was still wrestling with the decision. My legs were numb so I had to stay lying down, they had to put in a catheter and start an iv with fluids. They also had to start pitocin because my labor slowed down as soon as I got it. I just saw this spiral of everything I stood for in child birth and everything I wanted. It seemed like intervention after intervention. My biggest concern was for Landon. I was all too aware of what pitocin can do to a babies heart rate, and I didn’t want them stepping up the dosage without knowing that he was still doing just as perfectly as he had been. I had hoped to be able to avoid pitocin all together, thinking that if I was relaxed enough with the epidural, I would progress past the 8cm I had been at for going on 13 hours, but that didn’t happen. They determined that my cervix had started to swell from so many hours of labor with the baby’s head pushing down but the cervix not opening, and hoped that the pitocin would reverse that.

At 7pm, we got our 4^th nurse, Jill, who had been briefed by Jennifer of the ordeal we had been through that day. She checked me, with a calm look on her face at first, and then a giant smile erupted on her face- I was at 10cm! I think she was happier than Tu and I was. The baby was at +1 station, so after consulting with my doctor, it was decided to let me continue to labor for just a bit more before we started pushing. My doctor wanted me to get in some more rest, and not have to push as much to move him even further after everything I had been through. So I did my best to rest for the next two hours, while my husband, Melissa and my mom did the same. Finally at 9:25pm, Jill got me prepped to start pushing. We had wanted to deliver with Tu sitting on the bed behind me, and without an epidural it would have been no problem, but with one it was complicated. Jill however, was incredibly sweet and promised to try to work it out. She and the other nurses talked about it and figured the only way was to lay the bed flat and let me lay back on him to rest in between. We tried it, but it just didn’t work. I wasn’t comfortable, and Tu wasn’t going to have the strength to hold me up for as long as could be necessary, so after a few pushes that way, he got up and stood beside me, helping to hold my head up with each push instead. As I was pushing, I remembered that many times I had heard that women who push effectively feel like they are going to the bathroom, so even though it was awkward (and I was still afraid to poop on the table) I did it anyways. I wanted this baby out of me and I wasn’t going to let modesty stop me. Jill was so encouraging, and with each push let me know that I was getting closer and closer.

Finally, after nearly 2 hours of pushing, she called my doctor who was only 10 minutes away, and got prepped for the actual delivery. She had me do short little pushes in the meantime, and I was just thrilled that I was finally going to have this baby. My doctor showed up, and I got down to business, even more than I already was. It was nearly July 11^th, and after my husband had declared he was going to call him our “slurpee baby” if he was born on 7/11, I had even more motivation to get him out soon. Several more pushes later and I felt the unmistakable “ring of fire” that despite the epidural I was not lucky enough to avoid. I couldn’t tell at what point he was coming out. I kept thinking his head was out, and I wanted to ask, but I knew they would say so if it was, so I just pushed through the burning and stayed in the zone I had gotten myself in since we started pushing.

Finally, I felt relief, and they told me it was out and to give just one more push and I would have my baby. With one swift motion, after 36 hours of labor, at 11:50pm on July 10^th, 2012, he was placed on my belly in all of his slimy wonderfulness. Tu, who had been holding my leg so he could watch, came around so he could see his face with me. I was in shock. I couldn’t say anything, I didn’t cry even though I thought I might, I was just amazed at what had happened. I was so afraid I would drop him since he was so slimy but they dried him off and I pulled him up closer on my chest. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and looked up at me, and I was totally and immediately in love. I felt like I was losing a lot of fluid and asked my doctor if I was bleeding a lot and she said that I was, but not to concern myself, that it was ok. They gave me an injection in my thigh, and it seemed pretty clear that the bleeding was more than normal, but they were managing it well. It eventually stopped, and my doctor said it was likely because I had been in labor for so long that my uterus was just a little delayed in contracting back to a smaller size. I really didn’t care though. I had my baby on my chest, he was healthy and that was all I cared about.  The next couple of hours are a bit of a blur, as excitement led to exhaustion and total happiness that my little boy was finally here.  

I'm done! Time to coupon...

Ok, so I'm not ACTUALLY done. Just done for the summer. After having been working on my Master's for a little over a year now, I am incredibly excited for the next three and a half months that I will have off from school. I'll still have to come in to work mind you, but to have a repreive from having to go to work for 9 hours then come home and go to class or work on homework, or worse, have my entire weekend filled with homework and paper writing, is going to be nothing short of blissful. Now I can focus on the important things in life, like watching tv, reading girly magazines and couponing, my new found hobby/obsession.

That's right, I have become a proud and slightly obsessive couponer. In 6 weeks I have saved $693 and my husband and I are now stocked with enough toiletries to last us a year. I've stocked up on a few other grocery items, but not as much. Given we are only two people in a one bedroom apartment, I don't really have a lot of room to create the huge stockpiles that real extreme couponers have, but I do make use of the room that we do have. Now that I have all of this free time, my focus is going to be on reorganizing the apartment to create space and efficiency for the things that I do have stocked up. For instance, right now our kitchen table is holding eight bottles of Pantene shampoo/conditioner (which I got for $1 a bottle), 4 hair gels (also $1 a bottle), and 14 deodorants (about $1.50 each) because the cupboard where I would normally keep stuff like that is filled with the 8 bottles of Old Spice body wash I got for $1.25 each, along with more deodorant, and the 8 Cover girl Lash blast Mascara that I only paid $4 a piece for (they are normally about $8).

It really is quite thrilling to get up to the cash register as they ring everything up and seeing that total drop to less than half of what it was when it started after you hand over those coupons. I haven't gotten to the point of spending $2,000 and only paying $50 just yet, but I'm sure I'll get there one day. Right now, my goal is just to save more than I spend. So if I pay $50 for a cart full of stuff and look at the receipt that says I saved $70, I am a happy girl. Some people seem to think that it might be embarassing to hand over a bunch of coupons, like it looks like you are poor or something, but I look at it this way... these coupons are essentially free money. Do you think Donald Trump would throw away $5 just because he didn't need it? Hell no, how do you think he got to be so loaded in the first place? There is nothing shameful about being smart and saving money especially when it's right there for the taking. So you cut those coupons and carry that binder/envelope/giant tupperare bin full of them proudly because I would rather have people look at me funny in the grocery store than turn around and enjoy my vacation in the Bahamas than have to wonder where all of my money goes every time I need to go pick up some groceries.

'Tis the Season for Love

Before you even say it, yes, I know, it's been ages since I've posted, but I have a reason, I promise. :) My last few weeks have been absolutely crazy. So this post is extra long to make up for the days that I have missed.

Last weekend my very dear friend Holly married the love of her life Todd, who just happens to be an amazing guy. It was a beautiful ceremony, thankfully outside, and brought tears to many. We were praying the whole time leading up to the day that it wouldn't rain, and it did a little, but someone upstairs must have recognized how unpicturesqe a wedding inside their reception tent would have been, and cleared the skies for them to do it outside under the gazebo. It was truly a great weekend, and even had me and Tu wishing that we could re-live our day as well.

On our flight home we were remembering how magical our day had been, how it had rained on our big day as well, but fotunately everything was inside so it wasn't a big deal. I remember sitting in the bride's dressing room of the church with all of my girls, sitting on a round stool with my dress all around it so it didn't wrinkle. My bridesmaids were carrying on conversation with me to keep me from crying or getting nervous (fyi, it wasn't really working but they tried their best <3 ). I mentioned how I wish that it wasn't raining because it wouldn't be great for pictures afterwards, and of course there was the debate as to whether or not it was actually good luck or bad luck, then Melissa casually mentioned that her mother had told her once that when it rained on someone's wedding day it was their friends and family who had passed before them sending on their good wishes from heaven. I thought that was sweet, but didn't think on it too much. I knew if I did I would probably start sobbing as I have two grandmothers who I would have done anything to have there with me that day. After what seemed like forever the ceremony was finally starting and I had to wait some more while everyone took their slow walk down the aisle. When it was my turn, all I could do was look at Tu, I would have felt so self conscious if I had paid attention to everybody that had their heads and camera's pointed at me. When I finally got to him, I could relax, we were in this together now and it wasn't all about me.

The ceremony was good, I cried, a lot. Some people must of thought I had a problem of some kind or was being forced into this or something. I could barely say my vows through my tears. I calmed a little bit, and our officiant was excellent at keeping us relaxed until she said we were married. When she pronounced that we were now married, through the stain glassed windows of the church we could all hear that it had started to pour down rain, heavier than it had all day. At that very moment, I remembered what Melissa had said to me while we were waiting, and I thought of our family members that were no longer with us, and it was all over. Let's just say it was a good thing that I had my hankercheif with me. When we were sent back down the aisle together we had a chance to have a private moment before the rest of our wedding party had come back down the aisle and I had to share with him why I was crying the way that I was, which of course made him cry. We actually have a super cute photo that our photographer took capturing that very moment.

Well, after that, the weather cleared up enough for us to take pictures outside, and the rest of the night went perfectly...almost. See, I was sort of nervous, so I hadn't really eaten much that day. After the ceremony was over and the wedding party was all in the limo, I wasn't nervous at all. Things had gone great and now it was time for fun. We had a bottle of champagne in the limo so I had some, not a lot because I knew that I didn't really have any food in my stomach, just a few sips. By the time we got to the reception though, I started to not feel so well. I figured it was just because I was hungry and needed to eat. Some appetizers had been placed in the bridal party room prior to the recption starting so I made it a point to eat some and absorb what was going on in my stomach. I thought it would be ok until dinner was served. I leaned over to Tu and told him that I didn't feel so well. My mother saw me from her own table nearby and immediately noticed that something was wrong. It was decided that I would need to go to the bathroom. My sister Emily went with me and I faked a smile on the way out to the guests who were wondering where the bride was going in the middle of dinner. When we got into the bathroom I wanted to cry again. I felt so sick that I couldn't even imagine going through the first dance, let along letting him shove a piece of cake into my face. I told Emily I was just going to have to make myself throw up. I wasn't going to feel any better just standing there, so my only saving grace was to just get it out of me. I was taking a risk though... there was a chance that it wouldn't make me feel any better, but I had to do it. She pulled three really long strips of paper towels out of the dispenser and tucked them into the front of my dress, saying that she wasn't going to let anything get on my gown. Once in the stall mind you, things got complicated. I had asked my mom not to let anybody in. The last thing I wanted was for my new in-laws to hear me puking, but I started to hear ladies come in. My mom couldn't really deny them because it was the only restroom in the area. So while I'm in the handicap stall ( I needed the extra room for my dress :D) I hear all sorts of voices of women trying to give different ideas for what will make me feel better, and then I hear it... "Are you pregnant??? She's pregnant!! " ...I thought I was going to die.

I immediately yell from the stall that I was most definitely not pregnant. I had to nip it in the bud immediately before it made its way out to the reception. While this was all progressing, about 30 minutes had gone by. According to Tu, he had to make up several excuses to our guests when they inquired where his new bride was. Apparently there was a planning emergency that just required my attention alone. Anyways, moving past the gross part, I immediately felt better. I was so relieved. When I got myself together with my sister's help (thank goodness she is a nurse and could care less what was going on in there) I opened the stall door to find about 6 women all waiting to see how I was. They wanted me to slow down, but I was ready for the party. I convinced them that I was alright, and got back in to the reception. Dinner had long been over, and fortunately the amazing people at the hotel had boxed up my meal for me and set it aside for later. Everything else went off without a hitch. I did the first dance, the garter/bouquet and even let him feed me a piece of cake. There was no more drinking though. I stuck with tonic water and lime for the remainder of the evening because I was not tempting fate again. When the reception was over and we headed back to our room, I finally ate my dinner becauase at that point I was starving. Fortunately our room had a microwave so my wedding night started with me finishing off my chicken marsala before moving on to the delicious chocolate covered strawberries and champagne that were placed there by the hotel staff and that is where my story will end. :)

So, Holly and Todd's wedding is not the last for us, we have quite the Weddingpalooza this year. We have Tu's best friend's wedding in just a couple of weeks in Cleveland, then four weeks after that we have his brother/my brother-in-law's wedding in the Bahamas on a cruise ship (we're really heartbroken about having to go to that one fyi), then my cousin Lindsey is getting married here in LA in November. There are two other family weddings that I have as well, but unfortunately due to the expense of traveling from LA to Ohio, we aren't going to be able to attend. So, indeed it is the season for love, at least for the people that Tu and I know. It's nice when people can come together for an event that is purely about love and happiness, it really makes me feel good to be surrounded by people that have gathered together to join two people in utter and complete happiness. Yes, weddings are a good thing, and I just might have to have another one myself some day...

The "Awww!!!" Factor

So yesterday I threw my first baby shower. I've been to several mind you but this was the first that I hosted. It was made slightly complicated by my having to "host" it at the mother's own home due to the poor thing having been ordered to strict bed rest by her doctor, but which also made having the shower so important. She had been so isolated for the past month that she needed interaction with people other than her husband desperately, and I hope she had a blast. The happiness on her face would make throwing her a shower every weekend worthwhile just to get her through the next two months. My favorite part of baby showers, other than the joy on a new mom's face, is the reaction that everybody at the party has when the presents are opened.

It's almost an instantanious reaction. The gift bag is opened, and out comes a baby outfit- it could be any outfit really, any size, although new born sizes get the biggest reaction, and there is an instant, chorus-like "awwww!!!!" from everybody. This happens every time, at every shower I've ever been to, and the funny thing is, is that I don't remember every being taught that this was supposed to be the reaction when opening presents at a baby shower. This is just the seemingly ingrained from birth female reaction to total and utter cuteness. Maybe its the cute little animals on them, or the fact that little footies have to have ears and faces on them, or maybe we are just all imaging the beautiful baby that is yet to come.

Whatever it is, we girls just can't get enough of "cute" when it comes to babies, and we have to make it known in a resounding "awwwwww"!

Oh to be royal...

Ok, so as everybody knows...unless they've been living under a rock until about an hour ago... commoner Kate Middleton has married Prince William and is now and forever will be known as Catherine, Dutchess of Cambridge. The girl who was born to an "air hostess" is now a Dutchess and future Queen of England. Now, call me ungrateful, call me obsessed, or just call me whatever word comes to mind, but after watching the event that I have been keeping up with on and off and was incredibly excited to see, I am now a little depressed. Don't get me wrong, it was beautiful, and I am so terribly happy for them, but this is where the depression sets in... and the selfish, ungratefulness as well.

This was a real life fairytale. The stories that we grow up as little girls watching, waiting for the day that our Prince Charming comes to sweep us off of our feet and wisk us off to the palace. I realize I'm not giving Kate, excuse me, Dutchess Catherine, much credit, she certainly wasn't a helpless fair maiden, but for the sake of storytelling we're going to stick with this fairytale concept. Now many of us girls, myself included, did find our "Prince", the man (or woman of course) that makes every day worth living, that brings the best out in us and gives us butterflies when we see them across the room. Putting that aside for a moment, how amazing would it be to become a royal? Yes, there is that whole, no privacy, living our lives in the public eye, and don't forget the rather unfortunate lack of public affection thing, but to have unlimited financial resources, gorgeous estates all over the countryside and in London, and the ability to do whatever you want would be really amazing.

I like to think of myself as a charitable person. I've always thought it would be wonderful to start a charity or work for one. I do what I can with the money and time that I have, which isn't much lately, but its better than nothing right? However, being the future Queen of England would certainly open up a lot of doors. So here enlies the annoyance with the fact that I am merely Andrea Johnson, wife to DaLan and dog mommy to Swarls and Nessa... just doesn't have quite the same ring to it does it? Getting back to that ungratefulness, I am FULLY aware of just how fortunate and blessed I am to have a loving family, a roof over my head and food on my table, unlike a great many people in this world, so I guess my feeling guilty is adding to my current feeling right now as well.

So, in short, I'll admit it, I am jealous as hell as the new Dutchess across the pond. I would relish the ability to focus my energy and time on charitable organizations and truly make a difference...oh, and the clothes, jewels and spralling estates wouldn't be so bad either. 

Weekend?...Yeah, ok.

Why do we have to grow up? I mean, I get the whole, not having to follow our parents rules and blah, blah, blah, but seriously, what happened to weekends? I just want two days of playing, and relaxing and staying up late, maybe even having a slumber party again... but alas that is not going to happen, at least not until I retire I'm sure. It seems like every weekend that comes along I have a to-do list a mile long, and not nearly enough time to do it in. And then comes Sunday evening, where I'm at now, and I'm looking back and wondering what the hell happened to my weekend? It seems like the older we get, the more responsibilities we get and damnit I want a break! The good thing, is that in just two and a half weeks, I will get a mini-break when we go to one of my best friend's wedding in Dayton, Ohio. Four days of no work, a plane ride, and oh yeah school work that will be due as soon as I get back. Grrr... The sad part is that I know its only going to get worse. One day, Tu and I are going to have kids, and then not only will I not have a weekend, but my weeknights will be totally consumed as well so I guess I should savor what I have for now huh?

Ok, I'm feeling uninspired to write at the moment- could have had something to do with the 2 papers I had to write this weekend, so I'm gonna leave it at this, but if anybody finds the weekend that I lost, will you let it know that I miss it and would really like for it to come back to me? I promise I'll take better care of it this time...