Valuable Lessons Learned During Thanksgiving Break:

*Expect minimal rest the night before leaving.  Otha and I were up at least every two hours the night before due to a series of leaks- rain leaking through our ceiling, milk on the bed, Asher’s urine, Asher’s poop, then topped it off with Asher’s spit up.   As much as I could laugh it off, my fatigue level did not find the night quite as funny.  Thus in the spirit of Thanksgiving: “I am thankful for coffee.”

"Mom, it's difficult being a baby.  Cut me some slack."

*When traveling to the beach, pack for EVERY weather situation possible.  The first day at the beach we were freezing due to the cold, aggressive wind.  Contrary, our next adventure at the beach provided excessive heat, making me wish I had remembered my swimsuit.  And let me tell you, I already have wardrobe anxiety.  To have made an extensive packing list for the family, checked everything off, then to find us to be unprepared upon arrival- borderline devastating. 

First day: cold and windblown.

Second beach trip: basking in warmth.

*Don’t expect your 4 month old to love his first experience at the beach.  I had day dreamed about Thanksgiving break when we would introduce Asher to the massive, overwhelming, and gorgeous environment of the ocean.  He would put his hands in the sand and smile, wade in the water with our help and laugh.  So much joy, so many beautiful pictures… expectations failed.  Biggest frown face ever.  Our little boy rejected the surprising and cold rush of water on his feet and the grainy texture of the sand.  Not to mention Asher sports very pale skin, causing the sun to take victory over his complexion.  Eventually I surrendered my dreams and put Asher on a blanket in the shade, far from the water, with his familiar rattle. 

"This is the worst."

"Dad, why is there sand on my feet? Seriously, look."

*Asher loves dogs.  We will not be getting one any time soon.  Trying to get Asher to sleep with dogs barking at a loud volume does not conclude in a successful nap.  Not to mention monitoring dog and baby interactions.  Making sure Asher doesn't pull the dog's hair...  Watching the dog to make sure it does not bite Asher...  Wiping dog slobber off Asher's hand before Asher puts said slobber hand in his mouth.  It's almost equivalent to a young toddler interacting with a baby.  Despite my love for dogs, they will not join the Graham family in the near future.

"Here Willy, eat my hand."

*When running a Turkey Trot, your pride will tell you to keep up with the children in the race.  Kick your pride in the face.  Otha, Ari, Kevin, Asher, and I all embarked on a four mile race the morning of Thanksgiving, which seemed like a good idea at the time.  In the midst of the excitement pushing Asher in the jogging stroller past other runners, I felt like I could fly.  When pushing a baby you get more cheers, high fives, and external motivation than running solo.  However half way through the race, my energy was fading… and continued fading well into the afternoon.  I was down and out with a headache, blurry vision, and nausea a good portion of the day post crossing the finish line.  The image of me trying to catch up with an elementary school girl during the race kept haunting me while I downed ginger ale.  

"Look guys, I earned a medal for only crying once during the race." 

*Take every opportunity to put your child in a jacket with ears on the hood.  No need to explain, you can see for yourself...

Overall, we had an incredible time in Corpus Christi with the Graham-Gossett family!  Nothing beats a holiday spent with family.  

A Ramble of Sorts

Things I LOVE about this time of year...

*Weather.  Although I love myself some scolding hot summer sun, the weather right now is gorgeous!!  I can wear shorts with a t-shirt, jeans with a sweat shirt, skirt with a sweater... the possibilities are endless!  As for Asher, he prefers long sleeve shirt with shorts.

Another great thing about this weather is increased motivation to go running.  Seriously best running weather.  I can run at any point in the day without getting heat stroke or frost bite.

Side note:  Otha and I went running yesterday and almost died.  I wish I could brag that it was difficult because we ran 10 miles at a 7 minute mile pace.  We ran... 2 1/2 miles.  Slowly.  Otha has more of an excuse since he pushed Asher in the jogging stroller.  Can my excuse be 4 months postpartum??  This time 2 years ago we were training for the Austin Half Marathon, young and spry.  Now, we are putting along the side walks wishing our bodies weren't acting like they are 80 years old.  Seriously our conversation after the run went something like this:
That was a terrible idea to go running!
Yea my calf and ankle are killing me.
My muscles were alright, but I don't have good cardio anymore.
Your face looks really red.  
I'm exhausted...
Maybe one day we will be back in tip top shape... after the kids are out of the house.


*Upcoming holidays.  Once Halloween comes around, I feel like the next two holidays are within reach.  Thanksgiving is an exciting time because we have a reunion with Otha's family- trust me, it's never boring with the Graham family.  Then Christmas we spend with my family- woo hoo! AND Otha gets significant time off for both of these holidays, which means more time to hang out with my hilarious husband.  Time with hilarious husband --> me laughing more --> me in a good mood --> life running smoothly in our household.

This is what happens when I am stressed out:

Really I don't know how pictures like this happen.  One day they just show up on the camera and I am in shock.

I have already listened to Ross King's Christmas album because it gets me that pumped up about the holidays.  If you have never listened to it... or purchased it for that matter... do it now.  Trust me, I am not a big music person and don't recommend people to buy music often.  But this CD excites me about the victory of Jesus from the time of his birth unlike any other Christmas music I have EVER listened to.  And to all you who think "I can just download it somehow for free because I am sure he is a wealthy artist who doesn't need or deserve my money"- you are absolutely wrong.  This family is graciously giving of their money, talents, time, home, etc... If you like any part of me that has changed since high school, you can thank the King family for discipling me and welcoming me into their home throughout college.  Go to iTunes right now.


*Food and Drinks.  This time of year it's crucial to consume anything pumpkin flavored.  Confession- I don't even like pumpkin that much.  Pumpkin pie... no thanks.  However, I love me some breads, cookies, coffee with an undertone of pumpkin flavor.  I love walking into a house and being immediately welcomed with the aroma of fresh pumpkin bread or even an autumn scented candle.  Even better though, this season will soon become one of all things peppermint.  Yum.

There is also something about this time of year that doubles my coffee consumption.  An alluring hot cup of coffee in the midst of a cool morning makes getting out of bed a lot easier.

I cannot talk about cool mornings and not think about how stinking cute Asher looked on his first cool morning walk with Allie and I...

Most of all I love enjoying this time of year with my two favorite guys.  The first year I knew Otha, he was in Morocco for the fall and then last year I was miserable pregnant and didn't even want to go outside.  So this year has been great enjoying the autumn time with my main man.  Of course, bringing out little bundle around for the first year has added an immense amount of joy to an already great season.   

Confessions of a Young Mother

Today marked the first time I apologized to Asher for my selfishness.  Although I am certain there have been plenty of selfish moments in the past 2 and a half months, this is the first time I was fully aware, convicted, and apologized to my child.

Every Tuesday, Asher and I go to A&M Consolidated High School to have lunch with our beloved Otha.  It's an event I look forward each week.  Normally, I babysit right before we have lunch with him, therefore my attire is sprinkled with extra kid-ness (you know- slobber, markers, banana mush).  But today Asher and I spent the morning at home.  So what did I do?  Obsess over my appearance.

Here are the reasons why...

*I really do have a desire to look attractive to my husband.  Everything in me wants him to be proud that I am his wife, his teammate, and a good lookin' woman.  But I easily loose track of the fact that Otha chose to marry me when I was in college.   College = athletic clothes, messy bun, and mascara on a good day.  Let's be honest, not much has changed in my fashion.  However I feel this pressure that since I am his wife and more of an adult, I need to dress up, do my hair, and be completely put together for him.  Sure, there are good things about this desire...  but those good things easily turn into unhealthy self-pressure and self-absorption.  So this morning I wanted to look hott walking into his classroom ready for him to be WOW-ed.

*I don't want to be a "frumpy mom".  It does not help that the majority of moms in our community are gorgeous and exceptionally fashionable women.  Often, I want to wake up and throw on a t-shirt with some running shorts feeling like I deserve a comfy day since I am a tired mom.  Then I instantly think of these other moms who have like 4 kids and a WAY crazier life than I do... yet they still shower, put on a ridiculously cute outfit, splash of makeup, and make their hair look beautiful.  I have no excuse.  I am not making up how much this affects me.  Yesterday I had a t-shirt and old shorts on, but was about to go hang out with another mom who I am close to and have no reason to impress ... but  I still changed my clothes so she would not think I am a frumpy mom.  This is really embarrassing, but absolutely true.

*I have a certain style I want to accomplish with clothes that don't exist in my closet.  This problem has plagued me for as long as I can remember.  I change my clothes OVER and OVER trying to look a certain way that just isn't going to happen because I don't spend a lot of money on clothes.  What I am wearing is never going to match the magical amazing outfit I imagine in my head... because it does not exist.

I am not proud of all the reasons stated above for why I obsessed over my appearance this morning.  Obviously I have insecurities, compare myself to others, care too much about things that God advises me to not care about at all, etc... It's not pretty.  But having a child suddenly magnifies my sin in this area.  Why?  Because instead of spending all morning playing with Asher, enjoying his laughter, and loving him well, I chose to obsess about myself and indulge in my sin.  He would coo at me while sitting in his chair watching me get ready.  I would glance down, throw him a smile and some sort of comment like "you're so cute!" and then continue on my merry way trying on a bazillion combinations of clothing.  It was not until we got in the car that I realized I had completely wasted my morning in front of the mirror instead of in front of my son.  Let me tell you, it's really humbling apologizing to an infant who smiles so sweetly at you while you explain that you are are selfish and made poor decisions.  But I am thankful that God has given me a child to expose more and more of my sin.  I won't always feel thankful, but deep down I know this is a blessing to have more accountability through a young person watching my every move.

See?  Literally watching my every move with those big blue eyes.  

(And yes, he dominates tummy time.)

Confession complete.  Over and Out.  

"Asher"- Apparently just a formality

It's incredible what comes out of my mouth when I am talking to a tiny human being all day long.  Although I have spent the majority of my life hanging out with kids, there is something different about being with my child 24/7.

The other day I was talking to Asher and called him a "pumpkin nugget".  Pumpkin nugget??  What the heck is a pumpkin nugget?  Sounds like a magical bean that should be found by a child in the forest, planted in the ground, and then grow into a 65 foot pumpkin that leads to a land in the clouds.  After the nugget incident I began reflecting on the other names directed towards the new Graham family member.  Sadly, there are enough names to be divided into categories...

Inspired by animals:
Koala Bear
Inchworm
Turtle
Roly Poly

Based off Physical Characteristics:
Big Cheeks
Chubster
Puppy Eyes
Big Smiles
Baby Face

Created from his behavior:
Pirate- has one eye open and the other shut... happens often
Mr. Struggle- when he just can't get settled
Straw Face - my favorite face that he makes
Stretch Master
Snorter

Just because I am his mother:
Little man
Sweet Pea
Cutie Pie
Buddy Boo
Precious Boy

I am not sure what makes it acceptable to call him these names just because he is a tiny person.  Think about a situation where I call an adult Chubster.  Obviously rude.  Koala Bear?  Plain weird.  Buddy Boo?  Out right embarrassing.  But since Asher is only 2 feet long and 4 weeks old, it's totally OK to name him with these ridiculous words.

Honestly, I did not expect to be one of "those moms" who calls their child silly things.  Otha and I don't call each other things like Muffin Cakes or Sweety Bear or any pet name for that matter... thankfully.   So for me to name Asher with words other than his legal name was a bit surprising.  But I am addicted.  There I confessed... I am a ridiculous-baby-name-labeling addict.  I can't help it.  The words just fall out of my mouth whenever I interact with my son.  I need a recovery program.  Poor kid will get teased by his peers if I am not on a 5 year recovery plan; 5 years is adequate right??  Surely at age 4 he won't be completely emotionally damaged if the words Pumpkin Nugget slip out of my mouth.  Let's be honest for a moment:  Pumpkin Nugget has to be the first name obliterated from my vocabulary.  I'm embarrassed by Pumpkin Nugget.

But to prove that I am not completely crazy for wanting to describe my son, here is some evidence that I am least somewhat accurate:

Koala Bear

Mr. Struggle

Roly Poly

Big Cheeks

Almost Straw Face... imagine his lips in a more perfect tiny circle

That's all for now.  I apologize in advance, Asher, for any emotional scarring I might cause you due to my name calling.  

Home Birth and Hospital

To wrap up the birth experience, I wanted to write down answers to some questions I have been asked the past 2 weeks.

Do you regret going the home birth route considering how everything turned out?

Absolutely not.  At NO POINT have I regretted choosing to have a midwife and labor at home even though we ended up transporting to the hospital.  The reasons we chose to do a home birth in the first place still stand just as strong.  First off, we still were able to form a relationship with Erin that I am ever-so thankful for.  The fact that Asher came out in the hospital does not change the facts that...
* Erin came to our home for each visit
* I never had to waste time in a waiting room
* She genuinely cared about getting to know us
* There was never a time crunch during pre-natal appointments because of other patients
* I never had to talk to a receptionist or nurse before getting my questions answered.  Erin responded to every text and phone call quickly and usually followed up the next day to double check on how things were going.

Also, I am so grateful we were able to labor at home.  I still was able to experience labor in my own environment with music, lighting, and all the people I wanted to be there.  And it's the little things that count, like getting to pee in your own toilet every hour instead of a random toilet in the hospital or knowing that I am the one who purchased the washcloth that is being put on my neck.  A huge thing was also the contrast of nurses constantly in and out of the room verses Erin taking a hands off approach and let me labor how I needed to and how I wanted to.  She sat back and watched, answered questions when I had them, and gave positive encouragement through the whole journey.  I could also eat and drink what I wanted and when I wanted it- which was a huge blessing for my energy level.

Another great aspect about laboring at home was the lack of time pressure.  At no point did I feel that if I did not push Asher out before a certain hour mark that I would need intervention; I knew that my body would do what it needed for as long as it could before we would need to seek help.  If we had started out labor in the hospital, there is no way they would have let me labor for 38 hours.  And as much as it hurt, I am SO thankful that I was able to experience child birth pain without medication the first 33 hours.  The fact that I did not have the option at home helped me put my game face on and focus on labor instead of focusing on when I could be given medication.  I really felt like I got to experience the agony a woman's body goes through trying to push out another human.  Weirdly enough, I am so thankful for that experience.

The list is endless of why we chose a home birth and why those reasons are deeply rooted despite circumstances.  But you get the gist.  If I had the chance to rewind time, I would still chose a home birth.

Do you regret transporting to the hospital?

Again, absolutely not.  If Asher's head had not been turned sideways and stuck in my pelvis, then sure, I would regret transporting.  I feel like I could have pushed him out.   But that was not reality.  The reality is that there was nothing else we could do to get him out with the energy level I had and the way he was positioned.  In the last hour, I told Otha I had nothing left in me.  With Otha's encouragement, we tried the last tactic possible of pushing before deciding to transport.  If I had not tried the last option and transported, then I probably would regret transporting.  I would always wonder, "what if I had just tried one last time at home?".  But I did try everything and Asher was still stuck.

We knew upfront and told plenty of people that we were not anti-hospital.  If we needed help, we would get help.  Choosing a home birth was not about completely avoiding the hospital setting... it was about choosing to have an intervention-free labor if the labor was free of complications.  We fully believe that doctors and nurses are used to save lives every day when it is needed.  We did not want to waste their time with a delivery if it was not needed and we could do it with the help of a fully trained midwife.  But we did need help, so we went and got help.  No shame.

Overall, Otha and I both feel that we were blessed with the best team of nurses and doctors to finish off labor considering we started out at home.  At first we got the crazy looks and comments from the nurses until Erin showed them my legitimate charts and blood work.  Once they knew we were not irresponsible people who up and decided to try it ourselves, their skepticism turned into kindness and support.  Our head nurse and the doctors told us multiple times "We want to honor your original birth plan"... "We know you can push him out since that is what you were going for at home"... "We know you want this to be as intervention-free as possible"... "We want to try ____ first since that is what you would have wanted at home".  I cannot express how thankful we were for all of their support.  We could have been with a staff who threw our birth plan out the window or who thought we were crazy even after looking at my official chart.  But they did everything possible to help us avoid a C-Section and then let me have skin to skin time right after Asher was born, breastfeed shortly after, etc... All the things that we requested were granted with that first hospital team we worked with.  For the next few days we were "that couple who did the home birth/midwife thing".  It was our new identity with every new shift of nurses we had and hospital staff that we interacted with.  So we still had some friction with staff that were not on board with our requests in the hospital, but honestly it did not matter considering the treatment we had with the labor team.

Are you disappointed you had to transport to the hospital?

Yes.  Although it was the necessary thing to do, everything in me wanted to have Asher at home.  I wanted to hold him for an infinite amount of time after he was born, help give him his first bath, watch Erin weigh him for the first time.  I wanted to take a shower in my own bathroom after giving birth and then climb into my own bed with Otha and Asher and rest together.  I wanted our first few days as a family to be in our apartment instead of a hospital room.  I wanted to be free of an IV hanging out of my arm for 3 days.  I wanted Asher to be free from being taken away to the nursery every day for testing.  I wanted to give birth to my son without any medical intervention and experience what so many women have experienced before me.  I wanted to be free from laying in a hospital bed on my back when pushing Asher out.  I wanted to be free from stereotypes that hospitals are the only "safe" option for giving birth to a child.  I wanted to prove that home birth can be done and it can be a beautiful experience.

I dread people knowing that we transported simply for the sake of people doubting home births.  That is the most disappointing thing about our circumstance for me, that people will still have a negative view of using a midwife instead of an OB.  But it was not the fact that we were at home or the fact that we were under Erin's care that we had to transport and I really, really want people to know that.  We transported because I had nothing left in me and Asher's head was stuck.  Reminder- it took 5 different people at the hospital trying to turn his head and ripping my insides open to do so.  So it was not a "home birth issue", it was a circumstance issue.  Ok, I am glad I got that out.  I still encourage EVERY WOMAN who gets pregnant to seriously consider all of her options for childbirth.  If you still chose a hospital- that is great, I am just glad that you did your research and took the time to think about it.  That is my desire more than people choosing to use a midwife, is for people to take the time and actually think about all of the possible avenues to take instead of just going with the flow of society.  Ok, I could go on forever.  I am stepping off my soap box.

Recap- I loved shooting for a home birth, am thankful for the much needed help the hospital provided for us, and want all women to know there are options out there.

How could I talk about Asher and not put a picture of him?  Here he is...

Disclaimer:  We are not avid baseball fans.  In fact, neither of us really like watching baseball.  But we are so thankful for hand-me-down clothes!!!  Just didn't want anyone to get confused about the Graham family sports interest based on our son's clothing.

Asher's Birth Story

How did labor go??  It was quite the journey, my friend.

 DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO KNOW ABOUT DETAILS OF A BIRTH.

Pre-labor symptoms began Friday night, July 1st while Otha and I were making a home-made apple pie.  While making this delicious blend of apple goodness, I noticed I was having contractions about 5 minutes apart for several hours.  We were hopeful, but knew that pre-labor could last several days before the real deal kicks in.  So the days passed on waiting for signs of legitimate labor.

The real chef in charge of Pie Project 2011. 

Wednesday morning I woke up a little before 4:15 am for my 4th trip to the bathroom for the night.  I noticed my mucous plug had come out (WHEN I SAID DON'T READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT BIRTH DETAILS I MEANT IT.  IT ONLY GETS WORSE).  I excitedly returned to bed to tell Otha about the mucous plug and noticed that I was having period-like cramps that came with a good dose of pain.  So we began timing the cramps and they were 4 minutes apart and lasting a minute long.  Labor at last.  I texted our midwife- so modern- and told her the situation and she replied that it sounds like real labor and she was on her way over.  Thus time for a phone call to my parents for them to begin driving down.  We also began preparing the environment for our ideal labor:  put on my birth playlist, lit candles, got lotion ready for massages, etc.  

Shortly after Erin (our  midwife) arrived, she and Otha began setting up the birthing pool in the living room since it seemed like I was progressing fairly quickly.  Contractions were becoming more painful and closer together.  By 9:30 I was in the birthing pool.  HUGE RELIEF.  Being in the water decreased my pain at least 50%.  However, my body relaxed too much and labor slowed down significantly, leaving us all just waiting for my body to speed up again.  So I got out of the pool, went for a walk with Otha and tried the pool again upon return.  Again, labor slowed down.  Erin then identified that I was dealing with "performance anxiety" since everyone was just waiting on me for something to happen.  As much as I hate to admit it, my people pleasing tendencies had come to town and I really was stressing out about how I was waisting people's time by my labor slowing down.  So everyone but Otha left for a few hours.  We found ways to waste the time while stopping to massage through contractions and waiting for my body to kick it up a notch.  My parents came back in the afternoon and played cards with me while Otha got caught up on some much needed rest.  Meanwhile, my contractions were increasing in frequency and strength.  12 hours- done.

Morning pool attempt #2.

By 6:00pm, Erin had come back and brought herbs for me to take every 15 minutes- black cohash, blue cohash, and goldenseal.  They tasted disgusting but helped intensify contractions even more.  Erin then measured my progress and I was only 3 cm dilated after so many hours of labor.  However, I was 100% effaced and Asher was at a +1 station, meaning he was very, very close to the outside world. So Erin encouraged me to rest as much as possible and let her know if contractions became unbearable or I had the urge to push.  

At 1am, I was having difficulty breathing through contractions due to the immense pain.  So we called Erin and she came over to check my progress again.  Only 4 cm dilated after 7 hours of labor since the last check.  People average 1 cm of dilation an hour... obviously I am not average.  She manually opened my cervix to 6 cm, since my cervix was already so thin and just needed some help moving out of the way.  I continued to walk between contractions and then both my mom and Otha double teamed massaging my back during the contractions.  Although pain was increasing with each contraction, I knew that labor would eventually end and Asher would arrive.  

My amazing coach working hard to help me through contractions.

26 hours into labor, Erin decided to break my water since I was dilated to a 7, almost an 8 to help things progress quickly.  Yes, she broke my water her finger during a contraction.  I then climbed back in the birthing pool since all signs showed that I was well into the Transition portion of labor at this point.  According to Erin, you are only supposed to be in the birth pool for 2 hours before physiologically things automatically slow down.  So we went into the pool with high hopes that transition would end, pushing would begin, and the baby would come within the next two hours.  My body was not on the same page with our plan.  I continued to be in transition all 2 hours in the pool.  Transition = agony.  I am not exaggerating... I cannot express the pain I felt during contractions.  My whole body felt like it was going to explode.  Otha and my mom were once again Allstars and worked incredibly hard to help me through each contraction about 2-3 minutes apart now.  

I am obviously a little more miserable this time in the pool.  Thanks mom for helping!!

When the 2 hours of pool time ended, Erin worked on opening my cervix more and found I had an anterior lip that would not move out of the way.  We decided to go ahead and try pushing at this point.  To help open up my pelvis more, we chose the squatting position for pushing which we stuck with for about 2 hours.  Erin quickly found that Asher's head was facing sideways in my pelvis.  This created a huge problem since the shape of his turned head was not matching up with the opening of my pelvic bone.  Therefore, with each push Erin tried to turn his head and push open my pelvis to try to help Asher's head through.  Needless to say, it was a painful process.  At this point I was extremely tired and simply driven by motivation that Asher would be there soon.  His head was so so close to coming out if only it would turn.  When my body could not handle the several hours of squatting and pushing any more, we moved to the bed to try and push there.  My mom, Erin's assistant, Otha, and Erin all held parts of my body to help me through each push since my energy was draining too quickly.  At this point I told Otha that I did not have anything left in me.  I was exhausted.  Nothing to give.  We tried several more times after this and all the tricks Erin could think of before we had no other option except to transport to the hospital.

Trying to push...worst pain ever. 

We made our way to the hospital around 1pm.  My contractions were out of control painful to where I would just collapse on the ground with each one hoping someone would permanently knock me out.  At this point I was sincerely hoping for a C-Section with full-blown anestesia.  I just wanted to get Asher out ASAP.  Since we did not have an OB, St. Josephs assigned us a team of doctors and nurses who were absolutely incredible and wanted to honor our original birth plan as much as possible.  They informed us that they would do whatever they could do avoid a C-Section and allow me to still push out the baby.  Looking back, I am so thankful for their attitudes.  But in the moment I wanted to scream at them and say that I cannot handle any more pain and I am going to die if they don't get the baby out that very second.  Thank the Lord I was in too much pain to speak my mind.  

They gave me a hefty dose of an epidural as quickly as possible so that I could get some rest before trying to push again.  Instantly I found relief!!  I literally could not feel ANYTHING in my lower body.  The only reason I knew I was still having contractions was listening to Asher's heart rate speed up every two minutes.  Needless to say, I quickly drifted off to sleep.  I awoke probably an hour and a half later to the medical team coming in to see if I was ready to push again.  Because I was already 10 cm dialated at this point, my body was freaking out and I was shaking uncontrollably.  Felt like a drug addict.  But we decided to go ahead and try pushing sweet little Asher anyway.

Feeling completely wiped out at the hospital.  Note my swollen face.  Really, I should be a contender in a Labor Beauty Pageant.

Due to his head still being turned sideways, the medical team was having the same problem that Erin was having trying to turn it during contractions.  Not kidding you, at least 5 different doctors and nurses took turns trying to turn his head with each contraction while I pushed.  At least FIVE sets of hands continually went inside of me, one after the other.  Our head nurse (who was absolutely incredible) literally said to me: "I am destroying your vagina!  I am so sorry!".  She was the champion, however, who was able to keep her hand inside in between contractions to hold Asher's head in a correct position for the next contraction.  Way to go Samme!  They continually told me to push, but as a reminder I could not feel anything.  So pushing was a complete mental game for me while Otha held one leg, a nurse held my other leg, Erin helped me breath through contractions, my dad continually gave me water, my mom was by my side, etc... It was quite the production.  So once Asher's head could be held in the correct position, they took my temperature and it had climbed to 103.7... not ideal.  They decided the next best step to get him out ASAP was to use the vacuum.  One of the doctors attached a suction cup to Asher's head and would pull when I would push.  After three more contractions, Asher was out!!!!  

6:00 pm July 7, 2011.  38 hours of labor.  

I will write some other time about the blessings of both worlds we experienced- home birth and hospital. God completely provided from start to finish and we couldn't have asked for anything better in those difficult circumstances.  As of now, we are just so thankful for Asher to be out of the womb, healthy, and finally home.

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock...

I am excellent at waiting.  And by excellent I mean awful.

Patience usually does not make my top ten list of strengths.  So why am I surprised by my desperation for this baby to come?  I am pretty sure pride has something to do with it.  Ok, ok I am very sure pride has something to do with it. "I will not be one of those women who go crazy after their due date."  "I will take each day with grace, joy, and be the ultimate over-due pregnant champion." "I will conquer my emotions for the sake of being sane."  "I will set the example for all those over-due pregnant women to come after me."  EPIC FAILURE.

I officially am that woman who cannot function because a specific set of 24 hours has been completed.  It's done.  Over with.  June 25th has come and gone with a human still hanging out inside of me.  I want to pretend that I am fine and handling these past few weeks with an incredibly high spirit.  But that's not true at all.  There is an even deeper issue here than lack of patience that has been a consistent struggle for me:  I am horrible at resting.  Resting = unproductive.   Unproductive = waisting away my life.  Waisting away my life = worst thing ever.

During my college journey, I have had multiple people whom I love dearly call me out on my issues with resting.  It's just not healthy.  If I ever did rest, by-golly it was going to be scheduled in my planner. "Resting- watch a movie.  7-9pm."  So here I am with more time on my plate than I have ever had in my life and I am going insane.  My planner has so much white space- it's embarrassing.  See how sick this situation is?  A great deal of my identity has been wrapped up in having purpose every day whether with people, keeping our apartment tidy, running errands, my job, etc.

 You think I would have realized awhile ago that this is a great time to practice rest and really seek out what God wants me to learn in this waiting period.  But no, not me.  Not until Sunday night did I realize I have been avoiding any growth that could and should have been occurring during this time.  When I have been praying each day for patience, really I have been asking God to make labor start that very instant so I could be done with this awful life of constant rest.  My instinct is to find a project to do, not sit and be thankful for this unique and blessed time that I will probably never have again.  Now I am not saying that suddenly I know how to appreciate having nothing on the agenda except to spend time with my wonderful husband.  But I am more aware that this has potential to be a great season if I would surrender to it.  It's ok to not have anything planned and just go with the flow of each beautiful summer day.  After all, we are about to have a CHILD and our entire life will be changed FOREVER with someone else to take care of DAILY.

A sweet young mom in our community, Terri (she was 16 days over due with her last pregnancy), wrote me a note on Sunday encouraging me to embrace this time and ask God to further prepare me to be a wife and mom.  She also addressed the issue of not wanting to be around people, let alone loving them as they ask about the baby.  Everything she said hit the nail on the head and addressed everything I have been feeling.  I have never wanted to avoid people so much in my life.  Honestly, I know that they have loving intentions and truly care about Asher coming and wondering how I am doing.  I am just not mature enough to handle their love without becoming bitter at the reminder that I am STILL pregnant.  So I apologize to everyone who has asked me out of love and I have given you a short, unloving, or dishonest response.  Please have grace and forgiveness for me.  I am an immature 22 year old who is 10 months pregnant and terrified of unpredictability- which is my entire life right now.

Hopefully by the time Asher comes I can say "I am excellent at waiting.  And by excellent I mean I am getting better."

Check out this sweet picture Juliette took.  There's a baby in there, just in case you were wondering.

This is me telling Asher how he needs to come out that day.  This picture was taken over a month ago.  Kids struggle with obedience, I understand.

Perks of Pregnancy

Despite the fact that I just want to complain about how I am over-due and throw a fit, I decided this morning to dwell on the positive things about pregnancy that will no longer exist when we meet Asher.  I know that seems mature.  But don't be mistaken, I have a meltdown about every day due to my lack of patience.  So resist your temptation to be impressed.

*The rate that I go through roles of toilet paper is astounding.  Several per week.  It's just what happens when there is a human squishing your bladder 24/7, causing you to pee at least every hour.  But as much as we have had to buy more toilet paper, it still comes out to be much cheaper than what we will be spending on diapers.  So overall, it's a financial blessing in the toileting budget for the Grahams to be pregnant comparatively to our near future with an infant.  Hey, it's the little things.

*Carrying this baby around.  When pregnant, I NEVER have to worry about leaving the baby in the car, carrying both the baby and groceries, cleaning the apartment while still having the baby close to me.  My uterus is a natural sling that the baby never leaves.  I don't have to fight guilt of neglecting my baby if I need to take a shower or get something done around the apartment while the baby is crying to be held.  Even when we went swimming yesterday, I did not have to worry about the baby drowning because I was not holding it.  If I go under water, Asher goes under water.  No big deal.

*Adding some weight to my body has not been the most fun process, but I know that there is a limit.  I am full term and Asher is about 7 pounds.  The likelihood of Asher being over 10 pounds in the womb is minimal (yay for a small baby).  However, when Asher is born, Asher will continue to grow and grow and still want to be picked up and held.  It's a lot easier to say yes to holding a 7 pound baby in the womb than a 30 pound child who squirms in your arms.  Post birth child weight limit = 300+ pounds.  Yes please, give me the 7 pound baby inside my uterus.

*SLEEP.  I know this seems obvious, but I don't think I will fully grasp the glory of my current sleeping habits until Asher is born.  Right now I can go to sleep at 9pm and wake up at 10am (with frequent bathroom trips in between) with no consequences.  If I slept like this after Asher is born, someone should call CPS.  I can also take a nap whenever I want to.  After Asher is born, I am at the mercy of his sleep schedule.  Of course Otha will be there to help, but let's be candid- I have the nutrients to feed this kid 10 times a day, Otha does not.  AND Otha is incredible and still has a job to support our family while my new job is to take care of the baby.  So my people-pleasing complex will have difficulty handing off a crying baby to Otha in the middle of the night knowing he has to work in the morning.

*When I am pregnant and don't feel like working out, I don't have to.  People don't look a full term pregnant woman in the eye and judge them for being too tired to go walking that day.  They say "Make sure you get plenty of rest!".  But as a mom, if I don't work out I am letting the leftover baby weight win.  Not to mention I will need to work out for my own sanity to get outside and release some ever-welcomed endorphines to compensate for crazy-new-mom-hormones.  It's acceptable to have kankles as a pregnant woman... not so much when I have a 6 month old.

Other positives such as frequency of eating, wearing Otha's t-shirts, etc that are also great things about pregnancy, but I will spare you from more rambling.  Conclusion: Pregnancy definitely has perks that I will miss after Asher makes his big appearance.  I will continue to try and focus on these things as I avoid pulling my hair out watching the clock tick wishing for painful contractions.  Labor please come soon.

The Provision Collision

Two weeks ago Otha and I were heading home from Com Group early due to my crazy pregnant body.  Cramps mixed with absolute exhaustion made a concoction resulting in tears.  So we were stopped at a red light, I was crying and trying to explain to Otha how miserable I was feeling (it really was pathetic), then BOOOOM!!!  the Echo - my beloved car - lurches forward into the intersection.  Luckily we were the first people in line at the red light and therefore did not rear end anyone.  Also, the only cars going through the intersection were the ones turning left, so we also were not hit by cross traffic.  But what do I do?  I FREAK OUT.  My emotions went from "I'm crying because I don't want to be pregnant anymore" to "I'm hyperventilating out of shock, weeping uncontrollably, and I can't believe we just got in a wreck when I am 9 months pregnant".

Otha was a stud and calmly got out of the car, agreed with the driver who hit us to pull over into the HEB parking lot, then safely got us out of the road.  My hero.  Meanwhile he is also trying to calm down his crazy hysterical wife.  "Becca, you HAVE to breath.  You NEED to calm down."  Seriously, double hero.  The driver of the other car, or I should say ginormous truck, felt awful for crushing the fragile little Echo.  But then I increased his guilt ten fold whenever I made eye contact with him through my waterfall of tears holding my huge pregnant belly.  It wasn't my intention.  I just couldn't stop the freak-out-faucet.
Overall, the driver was very easy to work with, had insurance, and apologized an infinite amount of times.  Definite blessing!

So I know it doens't look awful, but the collision totalled the car.  Goodbye Echo forever.

Although I am grieving the loss of my dear friend, the Silver Bullet, we quickly realize this could benefit us in the long run.  The Echo was already headed down hill so we knew eventually we would need to get a replacement car.  What better way than to have someone's insurance pay for that replacement?  We ended up getting a check that covered the entire cost of the car, which is way more than we could have sold it for.  Huuuuge blessing!!  God totally provided for us in an unexpected way!!!!!

So what now, you ask?  A navy blue 2003 Honda Odyssey.  That's right, I am 22 years old and just bought a mini-van.  It's too much for me to process.  Married, pregnant, bought 2 cars in the first year of marriage and one of those is a family van.  fa;lskdfja;lksdjfl;kajsd;flkj  <------ jumbled feelings.
We decided that it made more sense to invest in a larger vehicle for the sake of our growing family, carpooling, and overall more storage space.  However, we did not want to buy a huge vehicle that was a gas guzzler.  Otha had searched for hours and hours trying to find a car that fit all of our criteria (financially, mileage, space, etc) with minimal luck.  The day before we were planning on going to Austin for multiple reasons including looking at cars, I prayed that God would make it very clear to us what a wise purchase would be.  I immediately took a nap after praying about it, woke up, and Otha called me into the living room to look at this van he found online.  Due to my recent prayer, we both felt really good about it, called the owner, and set up a time to come see it.  Make a long story short- we picked up the van from Austin yesterday as the official owners of the vehicle!!  We only had to pay a third of the cost due to the insurance check, then my uncle blessed us with $1000 out of no where, and my parents were so gracious and had set up an account for me growing up that we were able to use funds from.  Therefore the van is fully paid off- no car payment!   Once again God blew us away with his provision!!!!!

Although you may have seen this before, my new friend Courtney sent it to me and I think it's very fitting to celebrate our new van:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-N3F1FhW4

And be watching for me cruising around town in the coolest mom car around.  Alright, so it's not that cool, but it's practical.  And it has a DVD player.  And automatic sliding doors.  Jealous yet?  That's alright, you will see when I pick you up and take you for a spin.

Here's to 365 days...

A year ago I was walking barefoot down a path towards my future husband... minutes away from vowing to spend the rest of my life from him.  What a year it has been indeed.  As Otha and I celebrated our anniversary yesterday (a day early- don't judge, things aren't open on Sundays), we reminisced about some highs and lows of our first year of marriage.

Some lows:
*Making the effort moving to Austin physically, emotionally, financially, etc only to turn around and move right back to Bryan/College Station.
*Adjusting to the reality of pregnancy after our passions were further stirred for adoption at Together for Adoption conference.
*First trimester = miserable.
*The first month of marriage feeling isolated, surrendering expectations, and lacking wisdom in the communication department.

Obviously our lows had purpose and turned out to be blessings.  Even first trimester being miserable... my hormones were working hard to build a baby despite the 24/7 nausea.  So we really don't have anything to complain about.  They were just tough times.

Some highs:
*God bringing us back to College Station (includes jobs for both of us, rejoining Com Church, financial relief)
*Adding another family member who we are so so so excited to meet!
*Honeymoon.  Seriously I think about sitting on the beach with my mango juice in Belize often.  Probably too often.
*Learning how to love each other well!  Our conversations have so much more grace, understanding, and patience than they used to.

This past year has brought countless tears and moments of frustration only to be outdone by even more times of laughter, thankfulness, and being overwhelmed at God's intricate plan that dominates my own.  In all honesty, I want Otha to be the "crazy one" in our marriage.  But the longer we are married, the more obvious it is that I am crazy and am in need of Otha's love, patience, and grace on a daily basis.  I cannot count the number of times that I am crying for a ridiculous selfish reason and Otha provides comfort instead of judgement.  He offers wisdom instead of pity.  God was not kidding when He created marriage to model the relationship between Christ and the church.  Otha has been a consistent example for me of God's outstanding, unconditional love- I cannot begin to express how blessed I am in this marriage.

God gave me a man who is consistent, honest, full of knowledge, encouraging, thoughtful, hilarious, passionate, and of course, handsome.  Really, I don't deserve a man with any of these qualities.  But God gave me Otha anyway.  Otha has this gift of understanding me when my words fall short and has insight to see beyond what I can perceive inside my own heart.  It's incredible.  He is also an amazing leader.  Did I mention that he is GREAT at making decisions?  But in a gentle way that includes me in all the decisions even though I am awful at making any sort of choice.  He genuinely cares about what I think and incorporates that into every decision- it blows me away.  I am so thankful to have traveled this last year of adventure and changes with Otha Graham!!

In Belize for our amazing Honeymoon!  

Celebrating our anniversary.  So my stomach is a little bit bigger than it was a year ago.  No big deal, just growing a human inside of my body.  

I dominated Otha with cake on his face.

Note the icing on my cheek.  Otha sought out revenge as we enjoyed eating our wedding cake top.  And yes- it was still delicious after being in a freezer all year.  

I think we should eat cake every anniversary.

Pregnancy Etiquette

In conversations with a pregnant woman, there are some unspoken rules that apparently need to be spoken more often.  This is not attack on you strangers who want to comment on my pregnancy, it's really just saving you from being talked about at my apartment later in the day.

1.  Sentences like the following should be avoided... especially if you are a stranger:

*You must be due any day now!
*When I first looked at you I thought you were having twins.
*Wow, your stomach has really popped out!  You are HUGE!

2.  Do not ask what I am naming my child unless you are prepared to hear a name that you do not like.  I know it's awkward when I catch you off guard and you do not like the name I tell you.  It causes you to stumble for words and say things like "that's interesting" or "oh, ok" and maybe bring some red into your cheeks.  But really, you are more embarrassed than I am.  I obviously love the name.

3.   Do not act surprised when I answer your questions with "we" or "our baby" even though I do not have a wedding ring on.  I see you glance down at my left hand.  And then I see your judgement.  One day I hope you or a loved one are pregnant and your fingers swell first trimester and you cannot wear any jewelry or shoes your entire pregnancy.  Ok, that is harsh, I apologize.  But seriously pregnant hands get puffy, you should remember that before you glance at a pregnant woman's hands to check for a wedding ring.  I can't help that my fingers look like marshmallows and I can no longer fit my rings on.

Thanks and Gig 'Em.

My Boots Have Retired

I wouldn't consider myself much of a hobby kind of person.  In fact, I dread that section on "get to know you" surveys:  List your favorite hobbies.  Umm... reading?  running?  breathing?  I consider them more lifestyle interests rather than hobbies.  When I think of a hobby I think of crafty or unique activities such as carpentry, kayaking, collecting bugs- none of which I participate in.  However, there is one outlier activity in my life that could wiggle itself onto my ever-growing hobby list... dancing.  Obviously I am too embarrassed to ever include that on a self-descriptive application of any sort.  I am fearful I would come across as an accomplished ballet dancer or at this age, teach classes to three year olds learning to tap dance.  When I talk about dancing in my own life, I am referring to country dancing at a dance hall.  Impressive, I know.

It all began when I went to Hurricane Harry's my freshmen year of college.  I wore my Converse shoe knock offs, jeans, a cute shirt, and my hair down with carefully placed curls.  Obviously I had no idea what I was doing, but a few guys were gracious enough to give me a chance and teach me the ways of the dance floor.  After leaving, I was addicted.  My addictions go beyond "that was fun, I would like to do it again."  It's more of a "that was fun, I MUST go again, and I MUST improve, and I MUST practice... or I will never be the person I am supposed to be in life." A little dramatic, but I am just being honest.  Thus the summer between freshmen and sophomore year, my friend Allie and I went to Billy Bobs (yes, THE Billy Bobs in Fort Worth) as many Thursday nights as possible.

Sophomore year did not lend to a lot of extra time to go dancing, therefore putting my new ambition on the shelf for awhile.  But the dancing world still seeped into my daily life.  I began listening to country music.  Often.  It's not that I was inspired by the lyrics, or felt that the tunes were catchier than another genre, it's that listening to country music made me think of dancing.  I could escape in my mind to spinning on the dance floor song after song.  Literally, I would visualize dancing.  Have you ever heard those stories of people who are in prison for X amount of years but visualize playing a sport every day?  Then they get out of prison and master the sport because they have already mentally mastered the game.  My schedule was my prison.  And I was determined to mentally participate in dancing if nothing else.

When Junior year rolled around, free time came in abundance.  Free time = dance time.  Every Thursday night available, I would go to the Hall or Hurricane Harrys.  Luckily, Aggie Wranglers also went dancing every Thursday night and I could watch endlessly and study every spin, turn, and step.  I therefore happened to be an average dancer by the time I met Otha Graham at Hurricane Harrys the spring semester of my Junior year.  It didn't hurt that he had some dancing skills up his sleeve along with a charming smile, great sense of humor...anyways.  Knowing Otha went dancing increased my motivation even more to improve my skills.  By the time the summer came, I was fully committed to dance on Thursday nights until graduation... in country boots, jeans, t-shirt, and hair up.  Dancing did not equate to "going out" for me anymore.  It meant losing myself in songs, rhythms, spins, turns, purposeful but relaxed arms, balanced shoulders, following the cues of my dance partner for what to anticipate next, gliding feet, trusting that whoever is leading will guide me safely around the dance floor, daring to try new moves... and leaving completely exhausted and satisfied. 

As I look back on this past year of post-college life, my entire world has been changed.  I am now married, very pregnant, and working full time.  Yes, there are aspects of college life that I miss such as being relationally busy instead of busy paying the bills.  But the aspect of college I have grieved the most is the time, energy, and passion that I could put towards dancing every week.  If I am honest with myself (boo, sometimes living in denial is ten times easier), I know that I will never have a season of dancing like that again.  I will not have the luxury of indulging in the freeing feeling of spinning on the dance floor or the high I would get from a clean, sharp, beautiful ending dip at the end of a song every week.  Sure, Otha and I could get a babysitter and go dancing every now and then.  But if we have a date night, dancing most likely will not be #1 on the list of activities.  If it does make the cut, we most likely won't spend 4 hours dancing non-stop like I used to... if nothing else because we are exhausted from raising a child.

 I still listen to country music to mentally escape back into that world.  But it does not take more than a few songs to remind me that my dancing phase will never be the same and I cannot live in the past.  Don't get me wrong, I would not trade my life now for what it was a year or two ago.  I just miss dancing.  And although I would not admit it on a piece of paper, dancing is my absolute favorite hobby.  I mean, if I were to have hobbies.

Provision of Baby Supplies - Check.

Gift registries have the potential to make me vomit or provide helpful suggestions.  Some people register with the strategy to list items at various price ranges, making purchases accessible to a variety of people.  Others register with a mindset that they will one day own the entire world.  It's a difficult balance.  Otha and I spent hours discussing what we really needed, how many places to register at, and how to stay sane in the process.  Forming our wedding registry did not make the top 5 list of Most Enjoyable Activities During Engagement.  So when someone suggested I get started on a baby gift registry for Asher, a little bit of dread crept through my body.

I am so thankful to be in a community of women who are full of helpful ideas and advice!  Moms, old and young, gave me amazing suggestions and took the time to help me process through what we will use and what is unnecessary (thank you!!).  Normally how it works is to travel through a store with the ginormous scanner gun, clicking your desired items.  But let's be honest, I am non-committal.  So the second step for me is to go back online a bazillion times to change the items I previously chose and to add items that I forgot about.  Well God thought it would be funny for me to go online not to add items, but to take items off.  Every week.

Literally every week for months now, God has given us a steady stream of baby stuff.  Clothes, blankets, shoes, socks, crib, changing pad, glider, bottle sterilizer, puzzle, books, Boppy cover, inflatable bath toy... the list is endless.  People continually offer me new or gently used baby supplies that they no longer have a need for.  I keep thinking: "Wow God!  Thanks! I am so overwhelmed!" and he replies with: "That was nothing.  Let me surprise you AGAIN!"  And I really am surprised every time!  I am already so impressed by the Lord's provision, but yet he continues to impress me week after week after week.  So week after week I take items off my registry... which is way more fun than adding items, trust me.

But even pre-registry, God showed his provision.

One of my favorite ways God provided occurred shortly after we began our birthing class series.  The instructor highly recommended cooking in a cast iron pan to increase my iron intake.  Being the frugal woman that I am, purchasing a cast iron pan sounded like a good idea in theory, but in the end not worth spending the money.  I can get iron other ways, thank you very much.  Class was on a Tuesday.  That Thursday, our friends the Jumonville's came to comgroup and said "Hey, we are getting rid of a cast iron pan if anyone wants it."  Um, yes please.  We will take that specific type of pan that we needed to get and you want to give away.

Or another time I was literally about to purchase the Jesus Story Book Bible on Amazon and thought, I should wait until I know we don't have other expenses for the month.  Then the next day I received a copy of the book in the mail from my friend Peggy who had no idea I wanted that book.  Crazy.

Maternity clothes.  Oh my goodness.  I have been so blessed to not have to spend money on any maternity clothes!!  Women have given me bags and bags of clothes to wear to work, on the weekends, for special occasions... it's incredible!  My dear friends from SAMBICA also sent me a $50 to Target specifically for maternity clothes.  God is relentless in his blessings.

God has been so gracious to us as we prepare for the new Graham family addition.  Talk about building my faith.  Also, this endless stream of provision has deeply rooted affirmation in my doubting heart that getting pregnant really is the Lord's plan for us right now.  He always knows better than I do, despite my planning-personality pride.  I am excited to tell Asher about God paving the way for him in our home!  I pray that Asher will be able to trust in God's provision like Otha does, a continual confidence that God will not abandon him.

Here is my dear son, 31 weeks old in the womb, stretching his legs into my ribs.

Did I mention God also provided me with a handsome husband?  Just wanted to show him off. 

It's so much more than a pregnant belly...

Alternative names for my pregnant belly:

*Portable Table

*Hand Rest

*Food and Beverage Catcher

*Wall and Corner Scouter

*Stranger's Hand Magnet

*Conversation Starter

*Initiator of Stares

*Shirt Rebel

That's all for now. 

A shout out to Asher for making these alternative names possible and present in my daily life. 

"Stop typing and take care of me" -My fingers

There is never a practical time to get a manicure. 

Now don't think I am a manicure diva who loves her nails lookin good every day or the world will fall apart.  In fact, I can count on my hands the number of times in my life I have ever gotten a manicure... my wedding, prom, high school banquet (so important, I know), Aggie Ring Day, etc..special events.  But every now and then I  wake up and think "My nails are struggling, I need a manicure. Now.".  Immediate remedy- pick at them.  Hmmm, that didn't work?  Paint the nails bright so that the flashy color will overwhelm the onlooker's eye, blinding them from the actual health of my nails.  Oh no, the nail polish is chipping off.  Clip the nails shorter so the fading color is not as noticeable.  Then comes the day when the paint is half gone, nails haphazardly clipped, skin picked at and damaged.  Each nail is glaring at me.  I want to get a manicure.

But what's that?  Oh yes, that's right.  I work with young children every day.  Not a day goes by when my hands are protected from paint, glue, markers, tape.  These precious little kiddos get excited participating in crafts, so how can I rob their joy for the sake of my nails looking half-way decent?  You try to look into their eyes and tell them you aren't going to bring a craft for the next lesson.  Rough times. 

But even if I did not work with kids all day, I still have to do things like scrub dishes which is counter-productive to having beautiful nails.  Not to mention having to justify paying someone to do a task that I could do at home.  Maybe I could use it as a bonding time with someone and therefore have more purpose in going to get a manicure.  The problem with this option is that I find it awkward to hold a conversation across the salon if two people are getting manicures, when there is another person sitting right in front of you.  Why not talk to them instead?  Pedicures are a bit different since you can sit right next to your friend.  But who really wants to talk when their feet are being massaged and soaked in a mini hot tub?  Definitely not a person who rarely treats themselves to a pedicure. 

Have I ever mentioned that I think too much?  Instead of getting a manicure a month ago, I sit here complaining about how my hands need help.  My brain needs help. I thought my way out of a perfectly enjoyable experience.  If anyone is going to get a manicure, let me know.  I would love to have a conversation with you across the salon, throw down some cash, and have kid paint sprinkle the manicure with love the following day.