Fastest year of my life and I'm mostly not sad at all.

 This is what I looked like one year ago today. Big belly with my tiny little guy inside of it. And now, tomorrow, already, he will be one. But its okay, I'm totally okay, everything is fine. I'm not depressed at all about it. I'm not wallowing in self pity and looking at pictures and following him around trying to cuddle him while he incessantly tries to learn how to walk. EVERYTHING IS GREAT.

I'm not looking at pictures from the day he was born. Who would do that? I'm not trying to pretend that I'm not forgetting how small he was when he was born. That's crazy.

I'm not touching his hair, which is now long and a borderline mullet, trying to remember what his soft fuzzy newborn hair felt like.

I'm not thinking about how excited the girls were when we brought Liam home and how they were so obsessed they wanted to hold him ALL THE TIME. I'm not laughing about how now he pulls their hair and tries to eat whatever toys they are playing with, because he's doing his best to be a toddler.

I'm not thinking about how last year at Christmas I had a newborn and this year I have a monster toddler who is constantly trying to pull our 9-foot Christmas tree down on himself. That's the furthest thought from my mind. I don't even know why I'm bringing it up.

I'm not thinking about how I have 4 kids, not 3 kids and a baby. Cause that's a lot of kids. That's a big dinner every night and a lot of gallons of milk every week and more apples than I could keep in the house if I lived on an apple orchard.

I'm not thinking about how many opinions toddlers have. How they are basically tiny dictators who protest about everything they disagree with. None of that matters, since I'm not thinking about it.

I'm not thinking about how Liam is great at finding things on the floor to eat, and even though I vacuum A LOT he is the 4th kid so everyone else leaves plenty of things on the floor for him to find.

It hasn't even crossed my mind that we have run out of "first" holidays. No more of those for Liam. He doesn't really care for occasions where his mom dresses him up as a skunk anyway. Those are lame.

I am not thinking about how fast he has grown, or the curve of his sweet fat cheeks, or how in another year he will look completely different, with the loss of his knuckle dimples and baby curves. Those things have not occured to me, I'm not bothered by this at all. I'm fine. Really. I haven't even thought about how this was the fastest year of my life, and even though I tried to savor every moment, life is crazy busy and everything went by without me even getting the chance to stop and look around. I'm not extremely sad about how his face lights up when he sees me, and how someday he won't do that anymore because I won't always be the center of his world. So if anyone sees me, remember I'm not completely depressed and crying, or wallowing in self pity. Nope, none of those things. I'M FINE.

Please refrain from becoming a toddler

Oh squishy boy, you are the best. I don't know what I did to deserve you, especially after declaring myself to be done with babies. But you, you are a light in my life. You are fat and jolly and love to crawl everywhere and get into everything.

You have 2 sharp teeth that you use to eat anything you find on the floor, especially paper. You love to be entertained and carried around, and you are a giant momma's boy.

The thing is, you are 11 months old now. I know, that happened fast. I just brought your tiny newborn self home from the hospital. I held you sleeping on my chest as much as humanly possible, because time hates me and I knew if I blinked you would grow up. So I didn't blink, but you did it anyway. Now you're trying to walk, and I must ask that you cease and desist all toddler-like activities. Self-feeding? Cut that crap out. Walking? NO. Having too many opinions? Not allowed. Clapping and waving and generally interacting with everyone? While cute, still forbidden. You are not allowed to keep doing this to me. I cannot take toddlerhood so soon. I miss my baby already. You represent that whole part of my life. I don't get anymore chances, you are the final chapter of me being a mom to a baby. After this kid, I'm out.

While I do feel a small bit of me is ready to move on, that part of me is a minority and I am not listening to her. She's dumb and far too rational. You will be a baby to me forever. I will hold you and cuddle you till you're taller than me, you basically have no say in that. I am not as big of a fan of toddlers, due to their incessant opinions and thinking they're in charge. I like babies, please stay one. If there is anything I can do to change your mind about growing up, let me know. I am open to suggestions.

I'm glad we had this talk, so if you could just go ahead and postpone turning one in 3 weeks, we can work out a deal where I allow you to eat cookies or whatever paper you find on the floor as often as you like. I'm not above bribery, just ask Witten, I've been using it as a cornerstone for parenting him for some time. He also might be able to offer you tips in manipulating me by being extremely cute and stubborn, but I think you might be able to figure some of that out by yourself, judging by your handsome smile and overall chubbiness.

Fourth kid problems

So Liam is 3 months old, and I have yet to do any type of monthly post about how big he is getting. I did it with Ava and Witten, but come on now people, I have 4 kids and zero time. So for now, I guess I will post about the last 3 months and how cute and squishy he is getting. 

At one month old Liam weighed just under 10 lbs, and was still wearing newborn clothes and newborn diapers. He was still a skinny little guy, and he slept a good chunk of every day. He liked to stare at me while I held him and sleep on my chest. He had his first bath at about 3 weeks and was unimpressed. 

At two months old my sweet guy finally learned to smile, but he still enjoys the occasional scowl every now and then. He weighed 11 lbs 8 oz at his doctor's appointment that month, and was finally wearing his 0-3 month clothes and a size 1 diaper. When I switched him from newborn diapers it was more because I had run out and didn't want to buy more of that size when I had a bunch of size 1 diapers, but by this point he could fill out a size 1 with his chunky thighs. He loved to be held and smile at me, he is a really social baby. If I could do nothing but stare at him all day I probably would. 

Now at 3 months Liam is around 12 pounds, and really really squishy. He smiles at me every time and look at him and loves to sit and talk to me whenever he can. He also loves his sisters and brother, even though they basically smother him with their affection. He takes quite a few naps throughout the day, but especially loves to sleep on my chest. He is still not a huge fan of taking a bath, but luckily for him he is the fourth kid and doesn't get a lot of baths. There was actually a point last week when I could not recall the last time I had given him a bath, so he got one that day. I have to wash his hair pretty often because everyone is always touching it and it gets greasy. I prefer his hair to be clean because then its all fuzzy and sticks up. 

Liam is the sweetest little chubby guy, and I'm so happy to have been surprised by his appearance in our family. He is the perfect baby to complete our family, and I plan on holding him and squeezing him every day so he knows how much I like him, even if I don't have time to bathe him. 

Baby Number 4 - My Favorite Surprise Ever

Let's be real here, I was not planning on having any more kids after Witten. And at the time that I got pregnant, I did not have baby fever. David did, but not me. I was pretty apprehensive at the thought of having 4 kids, because I was barely hanging on to that last shred of sanity with 3 kids. But, I came around to the idea. I kind of had no choice about it right? And now, I'm glad I had this guy, I'll probably keep him. Also, I'm including his birth story in this post, and its far from graphic, but if you don't want to read it, just scroll through the pictures.

I knew when his birthday would be for almost 2 weeks before I had him, but that still didn't mean I was prepared. Sure, I stocked up on muffins and cookies at Panera on my way to the hospital, and I brought my camera, but I would've gladly kept him in there despite any discomfort caused by pregnancy. To say this was my least comfortable pregnancy would be an understatement, but I didn't have anything serious wrong with me so I'm really grateful for that. I can live with round ligament pain, I'm just glad I've never had anything worse than that. And even though I had an entire 12 days to mentally prepare, I still didn't take any belly shots until the sun was about to go down the day before I had him. Call it denial, whatever, but putting makeup on any earlier in the day was not something I had the energy for.

My doctor let me elect to get induced at 39 weeks, because Dr Decker is the greatest doctor ever and clearly does not want to anger pregnant women. Since 39 weeks happened to fall on a Sunday, I went in the next day to get induced 6 days early. When I say I was unsure about being ready, I mean it. I didn't want to get out of the van when we got to the hospital. Its amazing David didn't have to drag me in there kicking and screaming. I considered making a run for it while David and I sat in the waiting area waiting for a nurse to come get me, even after we laughed at a couple who were clearly first time parents who brought their carseat and base into the delivery room with them. I would've run, but I wasn't very fast.

I ended up with the same labor and delivery nurse that I had with Witten, and she recognized David and I at about the same time that we were thinking she looked familiar. It was nice to have someone I had already met and who had held my leg up once before. She said she always volunteered to take Dr Decker's patients, so she was bound to end up with me anyway.

When I finally got all hooked up to everything and the doctor broke my water around 8, I was only dilated to like 2. Since it was 6 days before my due date and my baby had no intentions of coming out on his own anytime soon, I knew it was going to be a long day. I basically laid in my bed all day, waiting, while David watched ESPN. I changed the channel a couple of times, but daytime TV is garbage and I honestly did not really care what was on. At 2 pm, after I had pitocin and an epidural so strong my legs felt like they weighed 100 pounds each, I was at 5. That kind of made me feel like I was going to be laying in that bed the rest of my life. I felt like that for no reason though, since when my doctor came to check on me at 3 I was at 9. Hope returned, eventually I would be able to move and eat again!

I was at the end of a crappy head cold at this point in my pregnancy, so I couldn't breathe through my nose. I will just say that makes labor a little bit harder, because anytime you are doing that much work it is useful to be able to breathe. After the nurse and David help up my 100 pound legs for about 30 minutes of pushing without breathing through my nose, I finally had a baby at 4:50 PM, and he had no plans of coming out of there on his own.

David cut the cord, which he always tries to opt out of, but they basically gave him no choice with either of the boys. He would prefer just to observe.

This studly little guy was 7 pounds and 19 inches long, my smallest baby. Everyone always forgets how small babies start out, because they grow so fast. I love when they are brand new and snuggle up on my chest and their little butt fits perfectly into my hand. I don't want to forget how that feels, I hate that it goes so fast. He is officially my last baby, my little surprise guy.

I took many many pictures of him in the hospital. I had him at 5 on Monday, but I couldn't walk until about 9:30-10, so I couldn't take any pictures until late that night and the next morning. I definitely made up for lost time though, I took more pictures of him than of my other kids. Witten is probably a close second, but I maybe have 2 pictures of Alana and Ava from right after they were born. I blame my crappy point and shoot camera and the fact that Pinterest hadn't been invented yet to give me ideas. I wish I had taken more pictures with the girls, but I make up for it now by taking too many pictures of them as bigger kids.

David had to leave at about 8 to go home and take care of the older kids, so that left me with nurses carrying me to the bathroom when I still couldn't feel my legs. One of those nurses brought me Oreos in the middle of the night, which should be a thing every night when you've just had a baby. I was tired and hungry, and I'm really grateful for all of the people who brought me food while I was in the hospital, it really is much more useful than flowers. A pumpkin pie bagel is so much better than flowers, and a burrito bowl from Chipotle is far superior to some balloons or stuffed animals. Not to mention all of the good food David went to get, even though he didn't stay overnight with me either night, he still got me pizza and cookies and Chinese food. Much better than flowers.

Because Liam wasn't born until the evening and it was a school night, the girls and Witten didn't get to meet him until the next day. I knew the girls would be obsessed with him, but since Witten had been insisting I was having a baby dog the whole time I was pregnant, I didn't know what he would think. It turned out that he likes him though, luckily, even if he isn't a dog.

You know how when your kids aren't around and you miss them? I missed my older kids, that is until they came to the hospital and visited at "quiet time" and they were the opposite of quiet. I was glad they got to come see their new brother, but then I was glad when they went home because they trashed my hospital room and ran around yelling the whole time.

I had to stay for 48 hours after having him because I had Group B strep, and I was glad for the extra time to sort of rest while I was there. The food isn't gourmet, but all you have to do when you need something is press a button and nurses bring you drugs and ice water no matter what time of day it is. Good nurses make a huge difference, especially to me, because after David leaves I will literally talk to anyone who comes to my room because I'm so bored.

I feel like even though I didn't really plan on having a fourth kid, obviously the universe had a different plan. Now that he is here, I'm so happy to have him and to have that one last chance to hold a tiny perfect baby. At the beginning of my pregnancy the nurse practitioner at my doctor's office asked me if I was happy to be pregnant, and I wasn't sure of the answer. I think I replied something about how I couldn't really change it either way, so I may as well be happy about it. But really, I didn't know how I felt about it for awhile. Of course my doctor made it easier to survive that last part by inducing me, but I was apprehensive the whole time. I just didn't know what I was thinking, adding another boy to our house, but it turned out okay.

I'm glad that this boy surprised me by joining our family, even if it meant I couldn't bend over for awhile and just looking at spaghetti gave me heartburn. I'm happy to have one more baby to love and I know that this bittersweet feeling of knowing that part of my life is over won't ever go away, I'm glad that I got to have 4 easy pregnancies and 4 healthy babies. I got induced 3 out of 4 times, and I am so grateful for an awesome doctor who took care of me and delivered 3 out of 4 of my babies. Its funny how attached you get to your doctor when you are pregnant, because such a vital piece of your life is in their hands. That's a big part of why I like getting induced, because you are guaranteed your own doctor. I'm happy to have a husband who will hold my leg while I have a baby, then go get me a pizza afterward because I'm starving. I guess I'll keep him too, he's okay. That's why I let him watch ESPN the whole time I was in labor, I like him. I'm glad to have him and these 4 people who have basically kept me from sleeping through the night for like 8 years.