He Is Here

Holden Rudolf Brammer was born Sunday March 28, 2010 at 11:42 p.m.


I was hoping that the trend of our babies getting smaller each time would continue, but Holden had other ideas on that. He weighed in at 9 pounds 10 ounces, and was 23 inches long. He is our biggest baby by almost 2 pounds. My doctor suggested naming him Hercules.

We were all surprised. When the nurses took him to do his evaluation, they just kept exclaiming "Oh my goodness! Almost 10 pounds!". The delivery was very hard. Up until now, pushing has been kept to a minimum. Not with this guy. I had to work to get this bruiser here. Luckily, I had one of my cousins-in-law, Corinne Scott, there to help me. And oh, how I fell in love with the epidural man. I love him so, so much. Way more than Jeb. No contest.

The kids came the next day to meet their new little brother.

Holden and all of his mamas.

The biggest sister.

Our first big brother.

Leah loves the new addition.

And Hudson, you ask? How did he like seeing the baby? Well, just take a look at the picture of all 5 of them and you decide what he thinks.

Hysterical. I've been getting the cold shoulder from him ever since. We're working on it.

We still had no name for this big ball of love by the time we were supposed to be leaving. The yellow paper just sat, and sat, and sat on the table the entire time I was there. With every shift change my new nurse would ask if I was ready for her to take it, and I would deflatedly sigh and shake my head. The pressure was mounting. I called Jeb at night after he put the kids down so we could try and brainstorm something, ANYTHING, to name this cuddle monkey. Every visitor and nurse was asked for opinions. Bo and I scoured the phone book under "H" to see if any inspiration was to be found.

We finally landed on Holden Rudolf. Jeb got his "H" name, and the middle name is after my opa, Rudolf Gustav Wobbe. Abigail loves the Rudolf because she says that opa "helped save Germany".

The day we came home was wonderful. My mom and dad and Bo had come to give us a new baby heart attack. It was probably my favorite part of having this big guy. I loved it. I'm sure the post baby hormones had something to do with it, but seeing all the work they did for us made my heart swell to the point of tears.

We are so blessed to have had this bundle delivered to us safely. Now we are loving being back in this new baby place again. I am soaking up the delicious smell of a warm baby head on my chest, melting at the feel of big cheeks pooling on my shoulder, spending the day counting chins, and trying to memorize every minute of newborn he gives me. See me swooning?

The Big Number Two For Old Blue Eyes

Hudson is now 2 years old. He doesn't feel that old since he still doesn't talk. At all. He does say dad, car (with the Brooklyn accented cah), fish (sheesh), shark (darsh), don't, yes (des), and the at least 1000 times a day favorite word... ball. But still no mom. Traitor. He even says basketball. How can the word basketball be easier to say than mom? I am officially offended.

Here is the big #2 in pictures of our Buster:

He loves her the best.

He thinks he is the funniest.

He is learning to tolerate this one.

His favorite things.

His favorite place.

He does this when he doesn't want to eat.

And this.

And this.

We call it the wrist action. He twists his hand inward and will only swat at the incoming utensil with the back of his wrist. I know. He's weird. But it cracks me up.

His hair is still awesome. He's 2 years old and no haircut yet. Mom is winning that one!

This guy can light up a room. He is so happy and so crazy that you have no choice but to laugh. And once he knows he's got you going, he will stop at nothing to keep it up. He's our growling, face pulling, Hakka dancing, ball throwing, funny guy. And even though he won't say mom, I love him more than anything. Happy birthday, Buster Blue Eyes.

Check, Check, Check

I usually like the word "check". It seems like an efficient little word. You use it as you are clearing off your things to do list. Did I do this? Check. Did I do this? Check. Ah, accomplishment.

I also like the payment kind of check. Those are always fun to get as well. Who doesn't love depositing or cashing a check? No one, I tell you. We can all get together on at least that one.

But, this other kind of check I think should be called something else. I don't know what word to use, but certainly something not as fun as "check". Yup. I'm there. I have to be "checked" at the doctor once a week now. It's fine. It's fine. Good information, at least. Although, if the good man doesn't tell me that I'm at like a 53, I can't vouch for his personal safety.

To mark the blessed occasion, Bo came over to give us all pedi's. We were thinking that if I had cute toes, I could use my feminine wiles to convince the doctor to just admit me right there on the spot. Or, at least I wouldn't be embarrassed by the toes that I haven't seen in about 4 months. Isn't she thoughtful? We love Bo.

Check, check, check, check, and check. She got us all. Even Harrison, until he got too wiggly and spread dark blue polish all over the carpet. Then he was done. But the rest of us have lovely toes complete with dainty little flowers. We tried to get a picture of my feet, but they have taken a cue from my belly and are far too swollen to fit into any regular camera lens. Tree trunk comes to mind. As does disgusting, inhuman, and just gaping jawed silence. This has got to end soon. Everyone be thinking big numbers.

Thanks, Bo. This helps so much with my "I look ridiculous" attitude.

Thinking About...

This guy.

It seems with every new baby that blesses our home, I go into a funk right before they come. It's actually a little bit of a mourning. I look at my babies and realize that things are going to change for them. And I don't want things to change for them, especially because they had no choice in the matter. I know all about the miraculous ability of a mom's heart to multiply in its ability to multiply the love. I've been so fortunate to experience that 4 times now, and it still never ceases to amaze me. Just when you think you can't love anything or anybody as much as you do the little monkeys you have, suddenly a new one comes and immediately is right up there with the rest of the bunch. I always worry that our new additions will end up spending their lives in the crib, since there is no way they will be as much fun, or as cute, or as worthy of love as the kids I've got, but so far that has never happened. Immediately, I love them the most. Just like I love all the others the most.

But, there is something that can't be multiplied, no matter how hard I try. The time. I know that with this new baby, everyone will get 20% less. 20% less time, 20% less attention, 20% less mom. This poor new addition is at a disadvantage already. He only starts at 20%. Does that make him the underdog right off the bat, or does the 20% loss the others will sustain make them suffer more? I don't know. Anyway you look at it, it makes me sad.

Hudson is the youngest "big" sibling we have had. He is a good 9 months younger than Abigail and Harrison were when we had a new baby, and he is 3 months younger than Leah was when he came along. But, he just seems so much smaller. It doesn't help that the kid doesn't talk. Or eat. That just makes him feel so, so little. When my belly began to explode with Hudson, Leah was already in full conversation mode. She would tell people that there was a "blue baby" in mommy's tummy. So, we knew that she at least understood there was something going on. We felt a little more prepared for the transition with her. But it feels like Hudson has absolutely no idea what is about to happen. All he knows is that mom doesn't carry him around as much as she used to, and she walks funny. How is that preparation to become a big brother? I worry.

I guess all I can do is my best and try to be as forgiving of myself as these cute little faces seem to be. I just have to make sure I let each of them know as often as I can that they are my favorite, which should be easy since they all are.  

Look at that face.  He has no idea what is coming.  Poor guy.  Big Brother is a big title.  He can do it, though.  If not, I'll just have a whole bunch of new balls on hand to distract him.  That will make him happy.  

Birthday Boy Bubba

Harrison is now officially 7 years old. Abigail wouldn't allow us to say that until after 6:00 p.m., since that's when he made his entrance into this crazy swinging sphere.

Unlike Abigail, Harrison was handed to us on a silver platter. When Jeb mentioned the idea of a baby #2, I agreed to it only because I thought we would have another 3-4 years to prepare, just like we did for Abigail. But that was not to be. Harrison was already lined up at the starting gate, just waiting to burst forth with his giant smile and heart to match. I love those starting gates.

Harrison is our tender hearted boy's boy. He is our sharer. When he came home with his birthday treats from school, he immediately offered them up to his sisters and brother; nobody even had to ask him. He is always the first one to tell mom or his sisters that they look pretty today. But he can also hold his own with all of his burly boy buddies. He's a shoot-em-up, throw the ball, run the race kind of kid, too. It's the perfect combination.

Happy birthday, bubba. I love, love, love, love you.