Growing Like Weeds.

I've had to work late the past 2 nights, so the only time I've had with the kiddos has been the brief and utterly chaotic morning time. So, tonight, when I headed up to bed, I stopped in each of their rooms to give them a little kiss goodnight. I found each in their typical positions. Diana on her belly, wrapped in her 2 pink, fleece blankets, one nearly covering her face. Mitch on his side, fetal position holding his blanky that was given to me for Brock by Susan Kuechler while covered with a small, light quilt that was actually given to Curtis by their Great Aunt Mary Lynne. Hashtag: Fourth child problems. Brock, face up, sweaty, Giraffee across his neck, covered up to his chest with his comforter that was once Matt's. Curtis I found curled into a tight ball completely covered head to toe by the large down comforter, he has always slept with his face covered. Always. And George, fetal position, hugging his ZeeZee, under the same down comforter, as close to the edge as possible. He's our only child to fall off beds or couches when sleeping.

Not one child stirred. I kissed and hugged, each and every one. Patted them. Smiled to myself. I've long since decided that the way they sleep so soundly, every single night, is a testament to how loved, secure and at peace they feel. I have healthy kids, with strong immune systems, and lots of energy, and busy little brains and bodies, because they are so loved. They are supported and enriched. The go to bed after a full day of life. So they sleep deeply, safely and soundly. That makes sense, right? I'm convinced of it.

I reflected to myself, on the life of each child. How much they have grown. That I can't believe we have no infants. It just does not seem all that long ago that we welcomed Brock into our lives. Yet, this morning, he informed me that he was "embarrassed to wear those {IU candy stripe} pants to school" because they were going to the symphony on a field trip. Embarrassed!? When? And how? He is too young to know that word, let alone feel it! He has matured so much. He can actually be quite helpful...unless he's playing Minecraft. Then he's kind of a jerk. I mean seriously, I think it puts him in a trance. He loves chess. He awkwardly and minimally plays basketball. That {lack of} athleticism is absolutely NOT from me. He makes clever jokes that actually elicit laughter, from me as well as others. He also has this obnoxious fake laugh that he does so persistently you can't help but giggle yourself. I think the younger years were hard for Brock, he is very much a man of reason. He needs to know the whys and whens behind everything, and that's so hard for youngsters. I think he will do nothing but flourish as he ages.

Curtis is loving Kindergarten. He has so many friends already, but, of course knows none of their names. He chases the girls, and they all seem to like it. We knew he wouldn't struggle on the social end. Class work on the other hand? His attention to detail is lacking. I'm unsure he will ever write the numbers 2 & 3 the right direction. He has got the color words down, and that's about it. He happily does his work, but I'm pretty sure it's mostly motions and he's not real engaged. At his basketball game the other day, you could literally see a little light bulb go off in that extremely transparent little ball of emotion, when he stole his first ball. He proceeded to have 3 more steals and 4 attempted baskets. Watching him hop around out there and beam ear to ear is entertaining to every spectator. Curtis simply makes one smile, there's no avoiding it. Such positive energy seeping from him (of course, unless he's angry.)

The other day, George sat with his father for hours, and intently watched as Matt rewired, soldered and glued back together a lighted snow globe (that Mitch later shattered). He puts together puzzles for those double his age. He can be so intense, engaged, interested and focused. Yet, you ask him to simply put on his shoes or pick up that puzzle and suddenly he collapses, has no energy and cries "but it's going to take too long." He might be the goofiest child I've been blessed to know. But has a heart of gold. His teacher informed us that everyday he looks out for his friend "Hendry Bush", finds him a seat and makes him feel welcomed. When you give this boy a purpose, he puts his all into it, and the pride beams from his "real man" chest as well as the smile he's trying to contain.

Methodical Mitch. He, I could go on about all day, and all night, and not necessarily good things. Three is a tough, tough age for him. He does not sleep enough. He goes to bed at 8 and is up at 6 every morning. He needs to sleep another hour. I have never met someone with such a precise internal clock. He literally comes to my bedside at 6:21 every single morning. This is after he has peed. Watched some Umi-Zoomi. And gone downstairs to help himself to a granola bar or Gogurt, which is why he is at my bedside. To ask me to open it. This kid and his routines. After dinner, while the other 4 typically join me or their father in the family room, Mitch slips back upstairs to be alone. To watch a show, or read, or do a puzzle. That being said, he is such the intense, silent observer. He shocks you. He potty-trained himself at 2.5 (earlier by almost a year than any of his brothers.) He can read an entire book (Hello, Ninja). One day, I saw the emptied contents of his back pack and asked Matt...did he write his name!? There was a paper, with a very obvious "M" and somewhat obvious "i" and "c" and 2 other not to completely obvious letters, but definite potential attempts. So, the next time I saw him with a marker and paper, I asked, "Mitch, do you know how to write your name?" And his eyes lit UP! "Yeah, M-I-T-C-H". Sure enough, he wrote every, single letter. Clearly. In reverse order, but clear as day. Not one of my children has done this at age 3.  I couldn't believe my eyes, and I excitedly congratulated him, "Mitch, that's so good, you are writing your name!!" His joy vanished, he scowled at me, and said, "stop it mom." Just like when I, or my sister sing. He doesn't like hysterics.

Last, my sweet little Dee. She harbors that same infectious joy gene as Curtis. You cannot help but smile when you see her. She loves all that is little and cute. She loves to be part of it all. She hugs the dog (and hits her and laughs.) She eats all the things. I think she out eats those brothers at every meal, yet she is still in size 3 diapers. Perhaps, like Brock, she will never grow out of them. This morning, when I got her out of bed, changed her, and pulled her hair back, she immediately said, "bow". She loves to accessorize, specifically her bows and her shoes...no clue where she go this! She has begun to ask "why" when we deny her anything. I find this to be so unbelievably adorable. I wish the previous 4 had done this at 20 months, instead of age 4. She received a baby doll for Christmas from her Mimi. I think it has changed her life.

These are just a few of my fleeting thoughts and memories from the past few months. So many amazing moments. They simply never stop. Thankfully.

16 months. (Posted Late)

While the boys were all downstairs watching a movie, I snuck away to give Diana a bath. I can probably count on two hands the number of times I've bathed her alone. She actually got to play at her leisure, relaxed and happy. Normally, you can tell she's on edge because of all her maniac brothers swirling around her. I let her linger in the tub much longer than I normally would. By the time I took her out, her lips were a little blue and her lips quivering. I took her down to the changing table and got her in some warm PJs. I then sat her in my lap to trim her nails and comb her hair. She sat stone still, yet at ease, the entire time I was combing. She seem to even enjoy it. In my previous experience, she would run away the instant she saw the comb in hand. I combed her hair for longer than I normally would. When I finally finished she didn't seem to want to go anywhere. So, I just sat with Diana on my lap, in her room. Just the two of us. She laid her head on my chest. She never fidgeted or tried to do anything but sit with me. She was simply content.

It's like she knew that just hours earlier I had packed away the last of her size 3 shoes. Like she knew that I was struggling to deal with her aging. Becoming a toddler, growing out of her clothes. Like she knew that I had a tough day dealing with knowing she's my last. I teared up a little and hugged her tighter and sat there for a lot longer. For the first time, in a long time, I felt just completely at ease. My baby Xanax. Perhaps, it's OK she's the last. Perhaps, I'll get these sneak attack precious moments for the rest of our lives together. I'm sure they will evolve into something else, as I don't see my 20 year old daughter enjoying me bathing and combing her hair, but we could do pedicures together. Needlepoint with a glass of wine. Maybe, I'll get to sit with her infant someday. I know that I have loved every phase of life so far, so, life beyond pregnancy, infant and toddlers will be wonderful. But I just love them so.

Diana, in physique, started out like George. Big cheeked, soft, pudgy, so squishy. Slowly, she has evolved to become more Brock-like, only not quite so tall. I am not sure she will ever grow out of size 3 diapers. Her hair gets longer and thicker by the day. Her little personality continues to resemble most closely her brother Curtis. Who also happens to be her best friend in the family. Her big helper, guardian, and buddy. This personality is one full of smiles. Smiles for me, and smiles for strangers.

If I had to choose the single-most unique thing about her versus her brothers (and I think it's strictly because she's a girl) it's her communication skills. She both positively gestures and says "ya" if she wants something, and does the same for "no" if she doesn't. It's accurate, every time. The boys NEVER did this. I think they were all 3 before they ever uttered a "yes". They had "no" down, and otherwise, they just enjoyed the constant opportunity to throw a temper tantrum because I'm not giving them the thing that I don't know they want. Barring exhaustion or extreme hunger, she even has the ability to wait patiently for me to get these items for her (another distinction from the 4 before her.) It's quite impressive. She seems to think before acting...as in, she has yet to fall off a chair, bed, table (yeah, I don't know why she'd be on a table either), stool, slide, stairs.

Diana had a 1st birthday party. It was a tea party. It was beautiful, elegant, extravagant. So many lovely and perfect flower arrangements, with tea cups for everyone, and tea pots for the arrangements. It was well-attended with a photo booth too. But, as things typically go for a fifth child, I'd imagine, I've yet to document it. I don't think I've even loaded the pictures from the photo booth. In fact, I don't even have the pictures from her baptism well over a year ago! Where she wore my baptismal gown, unlike her brothers who all wore Matt's. Except Mitch, I think we got him his own, seeing as he was too big. Diana's go-with-the flow, laid back personality will serve her well as a 5th. She honestly has no choice.

If you turn on music, she will dance. She will smile, and twirl. She will shove her brothers away. She likes to be bossy with them, and she likes to have the stage. Though she be but little, she be nosey. As in, she wants to be included...in EVERYTHING. She will eat anything. Though, she has been known to refuse the heel of the bread loaf. How do they all know this is less desirable!? She is also extremely possessive of her food (again, I'd imagine this isn't unusual for a 5th.) Once, as I opened for her the last yogurt from the fridge, Mitch asked if he could havea  yogurt. Diana became insane, repeating "no, mine" over and over, grabbing the yogurt from me as if it were the last in the world and we were all to starve soon. She loves salsa. Will eat bowls of it, like soup. Her tongue will hang out of her mouth, due to the spice, and she will keep going, even after the mid-meal, momentary screaming and crying due to the heat in her mouth.

She likes to choose her own bows. And shoes. And socks. Luckily, she still leaves the outfits to me (though I imagine this is changing any day now.) She can repeat most any word, and also thinks she talks in sentences (shhh...don't tell her, but it's complete jibberish.) She will sing "bing bong bing bong" when she hears iton the movie Inside Out while riding in the van. If you start a sentence with "Who...." she will consistently be the first one to respond with an emphatic "ME!!" often long before the rest of the sentence it uttered. I believe the first time she did this Matt had said, "Who clogged the toilet!?" She loves her blankies, 2 of them, they're really soft. She loves her Jelly Cat bunny and a paci. She goes right to bed when put down and wakes up sometime about 12 hours later, and that's all there is to say about that...for the past 12 months (or more #sorrynotsorry.)

I mean, all around, I'm not sure you can ask for a better baby. A cuter baby. A happier baby. So, none of you all can blame me for kind of being sad about no more. Then again, I am thrilled I get to end on SUCH a high note. My little Diana Bede. Stay happy, little girl, and be strong.

The Happiest 6 Months.

Back in September, I flew to and from Chicago with Diana. She was 4 months old. On our flight home, the entire plane had boarded when someone noticed the overhead bins to be falling off the wall. We all de-planed. We had no idea when or if it would get fixed. If we had to wait for a new plane. When we would depart. If we would have to move to a new gate. And my stroller was already checked. The woman sitting next to me had purposefully chosen to sit by me and my smiling, friendly baby. Diana had already made friends with most the plane as she smiled to each and every person the entire walk down the isle to our seat. She has this effect on people.

 Now, one might be intimidated. Anxious. Nervous. Concerned. Worried. Or any combo of the aforementioned when it comes to just flying with a baby, let alone an unknown delay. To be certain, I would have been with ANY of the prior 4 children. But Diana? Nope. Not even the slightest bit concerned. With every one of the boys I had at least one moment (or a few in Brock and George's case) where it took quite a bit of effort to console them. So much effort that I was sweating. That I was panicked. That I set them down and left the room, so as not to shake them. That I handed them off to Matt after an hour and said, "here, it's your turn." This really only needs to happen once, for you to be somewhat apprehensive of the event ever occurring again. Therefore, a flight alone, with any of the boys, would have given me a moment of hesitance. But Diana?

Diana has NEVER had one of these moments. She. Is. The single-most consolable baby there ever was. Of all time. Ever. Not once, have I felt that little iota of panic. Not once, have I wanted to pass her off because of crying or discomfort. In fact, when she starts to get upset, my mother has more then once said, "Really? That's all ya got?" I am even going to go one step further, to say: not only does she not get overly sad or angry or upset, but she is happy. All the time. To everyone.

We all got off and hung around the gate, waiting for information. We were delayed almost 4 hours. By the time we were boarding again, Diana had a following and multiple offers to be row-mates. You see, she never cried. Not once. Why would she? She was being held the entire time. She had nearly one hundred people looking at her and smiling at her and talking to her. She loves people. I always feel like the general attitude is somewhat negative when it comes to a baby on a plane. Not this baby. I'm writing this almost 3 months later, and nothing has changed.

I have no hesitance leaving her with sitters. I often wonder if she is eating enough, because she never seems upset or hungry. She lets me put bows in her hair. She let's her brothers hold her. Unfortunately, she finds those fools hilarious. She wants in on the action, yet is fine as a bystander. She truly seems content, at all times. When it's bed time, I feed her, walk upstairs and lay her in her bed. Then she falls asleep calmly, only to wake up 10+ hours later, well after her brothers, with quiet coo's (and sometimes an arm or leg hanging out of the crip with her pacifier on the floor). It's bizarre and almost unnatural how easy she is. Or, as my sister has lovingly started to call her, "a dud".

Since day one, I have described her as practically perfect in every way. I just don't think there's any disputing it. In fact, she is directly on the 50th percentile line in both weight and length, and has been for EVERY doctor's visit! She is 7 months, and only sitting. She is content to sit. Her 4 predecessors were crawling everywhere by now, climbing, getting into everything. You hand her a toy, and she accepts it gladly. She transfers it hand to hand with her little thumbs curled into her palm, which is technically a developmental delay (that we are getting assessed) but for the time being, remains an adorable and endearing trait.

I hope she continues to have those happy eyes, and infectious smile for all of her life. She will make it places, have friends, and likely be successful in life, despite her apparent, absolute lack of drive. Though, admittedly, our most competitive child, Curtis, began as a content, ridiculously smiley little guy as well...so who knows. For now, I will enjoy Di-nee-na, NeeNee, Nina, D and her laid back nature, dress her in coordinating outfits, kiss her, and remain blissfully rested.

3 months closer.

I refuse to believe that she is growing up. That she is grabbing the blanket and pulling it up to her mouth to nibble on. That she is laughing. Full on, belly laughing. Yesterday, I attempted to put her hair in pigtails. It was a complete failure, so I laughed. I showed her to Matt, he laughed. And as I turned away laughing at Matt laughing, she laughed with us! She thought the pigtails were hilarious too. Which brings me to another thing I refuse to believe, that her hair has grown enough for me to even attempt using rubber bands. I refuse to believe that one week from today she will be 3 months.

She is approaching that age where it's becoming less and less impressive that she sleep 8-11 hours every night. She is watching, tracking, absorbing the behavior of her brothers. She does not like to face inward, she wants to look out, and gaze upon the action. Frequently, in a scornful fashion. I can already see her thinking, "why must I be surrounded by these ridiculous, silly boys?" That or she fears for her life if not always observing her surroundings.

I want her to remain a sweet smelling newborn. Fresh. Tiny. Wistfully sleeping the days away. The little way she finds such relief in nursing, that almost appears like panic at first. How she sleeps with her hands above her head or grasped below her cheek. She taunts us with her perfection.

Everyday, she becomes more childlike and less newborn-ish. She is slowly developing opinions, likes, dislikes.

I love nothing more than a newborn.

Written on 8-10-15. | Diana, Age 3 months.

Why having FOUR older brothers is THE WORST.

They drag you to the pool. The freezing cold pool. They run around, laughing, shooting water guns, and eventually, they splash you in the face. Why must they be so wreckless?

When your mother wants a family picture, you fear for your life. Every. Single. Time.

Your "pretty boy" brother wears pigtails better than you do. Not right.


No. Just no.


As if tummy time was not bad enough, you rarely make it 5 minutes without getting hugged, kissed, stepped on or kicked. 
Can they not just leave me be!?


You rarely fall asleep and wake up in the same condition. And their accessories simply do not go with the outfit.


They insist that power tools are fun. Please.

You can't even enjoy your brand new, adorable chair, in your newly finished nursery, without, again, fearing for your life.

They seem incapable of understanding the concept of personal space.

They have even convinced your parents that tractors are fun. You have GOT to be kidding me!!!
They are always hogging the iPad. And playing really dumb boy games at that.

I repeat. No. Personal. Space.

Always wondering if you will survive. Just curious. Will I make it another minute? Why are they all surrounding me?
Nothing, not even your adorable girly accessories are safe from boy cooties.

Do you see this!?

Mom, please, please get me out of this madness. What are they even doing? Why do they think that is fun?

Dirty, grimy fingers. In the mouth. In the eyes. In the ears. Eww. Just eww!!!

They just don't get it. I am crying BECAUSE of you. Please don't try to cheer me up. Ugh, boys.

They insist on filling my crib, when I'm only a few days old...have they not heard of SIDS? No stuffed animals in the baby's bed!!

Perfection.

Diana,

I am going to be honest. You weren't supposed to be so wonderful, and perfect, and beautiful, and {dare I say it??} easy. I needed you to do something that would make me not want to EVER even CONSIDER having another child, whatsoever. You tried during the pregnancy. I think I was in "early labor" for 4-5 days. Having managed and delivered a lot of obstetric patients myself, I could never understand why a woman would come into triage day after day, insisting she was contracting, in labor, in pain and extremely uncomfortable when she really "wasn't" (no cervical change).  Now I know. And had I not been trained in the medical field, with lots of obstetrical experience both as a doctor and a patient, I would have been one of those women. It was rough. Stand up - contraction. Sit down - contraction. Roll to my side - contraction. Think about contractions - contraction. I could hardly stand for more than 3 minutes at a time. I could hardly sit for more than 10 minutes at a time. Sleep? Hahahahahaha.  You did your darnedest to make those last few weeks so awful, that the thought of ever doing it again was pretty much gone.

Then, I went to see my doctor on Mother's day (11 days early) around noon, maybe 1pm. I was already dilated to a 3cm, which has never, ever happened before being in "actual labor". My OB was certain, that with a 5th child, and how my previous deliveries have gone, that I would simply go from a 4 to 10 in no time. So, to the hospital I went, due to "spontaneous rupture of membranes" (my water "broke"). Then we waited. And waited. And waited. The contractions never got closer than 10 minutes, and never got painful enough. We started the pitocin a bit before 4pm. They quickly became frequent, but still not strong. By 6pm, maybe 7pm, I finally had a few contractions that made me willing to get that dreaded epidural. I've really never had a bad experience with the epidural, in fact, they always work sooo well, that the actual epidural is the most uncomfortable part of labor and delivery for me. This epidural was no different. Before I got this epidural, I was still 4 cm. No progress. I was freaking out...you're heart rate was dropping with each contraction (likely due to the cord around your neck) but this makes nurses uncomfortable, and unwilling to turn up pitocin. I texted my OB these concerns: that I will not progress because the contractions aren't strong enough and no one will turn up the pit. Her response? "It's typical of 3rd or more babies...I think she will be here soon...4 to complete then BAM!!" The plan was to let me rest with the epidural for a few hours and check again at 9:30pm. In the interim, my mom and sister showed up to visit. I didn't mind their presence, but was annoyed that I'd be having a baby at 4am and felt they had really jumped the gun in arriving. I was sure they'd now have to be here all night.

By 8:00pm or so, I kicked them out of the room to take a little nap...which I did. Sort of. I very soon began to feel slightly nauseous. And a bit after 9pm, I was awoken by a REALLY strong contraction, that actually hurt through the epidural. I looked at the moniter, and you did NOT like that contraction either. Your heart rate was in the 60's. Crap. No one is going to like that. They are going to turn off the pitocin. I am going to stall in labor. Oh my gosh. We are headed to c-section town. Sure enough, 2 nurses, and THE DOCTOR (never a good sign) come "calmly" walking in...I was already trying to turn myself to make baby "happier". I start to again voice my concerns to my OB, and she says, "Oh, you're probably just complete and baby dropped really fast." I laughed. Yeah right. I have never progressed that fast.

DIANA BEDE O'LAUGHLIN

MAY 10TH, 2015 at 10:02PM

8LBS 5OZ AND 21IN 

Sure enough, she checks and asks if I want to start pushing. What!? Call the grandparents. Get Leah in here (she was going to hang out for the birth). I was stunned. Simply stunned. And not really ready to push. And anxious to meet my baby, but in disbelief it was really happening. Before I knew it, I was pushing, you were coming out, and I almost lost consciousness! I totally missed the delivery, next thing I knew, you were all purple, and floppy and on my chest, and adorable, and looked momentarily, just like Mitch.  You were not the rigorous, flailing, strong newborn I was accustomed to, I was trying to rub and stimulate you to cry a bit and "tone up". You had lots of fluid (bloody) coming out of your nose...so I suggested suctioning. No one heard (or maybe just ignored me.) I said it again, trying to give you to the baby nurse, but they like to give baby immediate tummy time (which I LOVE, but not when I can tell it needs some fluid taken out of the lungs/belly). Finally, it was probably 90 seconds, they took over and continued to try to stimulate you...from afar, all I see is George in your little features and huge cheeks. And then they suctioned a good amount of fluid. You pinked up, toned up, cried a bit and came back to mommy more than happy to begin nursing {and never stop}. And now, you remind me exactly of Curtis.

My recovery with you was by far the easiest. You were only 8lbs 5 oz, in contrast to your brother George who was 10lbs 7oz!! I have been up, walking, playing with your brothers, continuing to try to organize the house and various other things since our release from Shawnee Mission Med Center. Our little stay in the hospital felt like a mini-vacation, with all of our favorite people visiting, in and out of our little room. You sleep like a champ. Better than any of your brothers, and Curtis gave you some stiff competition. Honestly, I am still in disbelief. I am finishing up the final edits here at 5 weeks, and despite my being sure "the ball will drop" so to speak, and you will become fussy and inconsolable, it hasn't. I take a picture of you almost every morning. Your beauty and perfection, and calm newborness, is irresistibly wonderful. The way you breath, take comfort in my voice, smell, and warmth fills my heart to a breaking point. To say my cup spilleth over is a gross underestimation. My cup is a fountain, or waterfall even. You smile, you have been since about 3 weeks, and as Matt put it, you have "happy eyes". You are so patient, and happy, and maybe the sweetest little babe that has ever existed in all of time. Simply, THE BEST, Mother's day gift I have ever, and will ever, receive. If you are my last, thank you for ending my reproduction career on such a high note. Thank you for earning all the doting that you will surely receive for the rest of your life, baby girl, Di-eena.

Welcome to this crazy home, to your many brothers, and to this incredible thing called life. We hope you enjoy it all.

With the greatest of all love,
Mom