Welcome Hazel May

Sharalee woke at about 4:55 a.m. to use the bathroom. When she got back in bed, she glanced at the clock and thought, mournfully, that Dr. Ford (pseudonym) -- her OBGYN on whom she has a self-proclaimed "man-crush" -- was a few minutes from concluding his weekend shift. Then, suddenly, she heard an audible "pop." Gush.

"Ben!"

"Mmmmphf." [Translation: "It's your turn to give Eva a bottle."]

"Ben, my water just broke."

"Mmmmphf?" [Translation: "Are you sure?"]

At this point, I went back to sleep, but methinks I heard sounds of a shower running followed by a hair dryer. I know, I know -- I'm probably crazy, right? What sane person, whose water had just broke, would shower, shampoo, and then blow-dry her hair prior to going to the hospital? (I'm not saying this happened -- I'm just saying what I heard.) Also, when we finally got to the car, I may or may not have seen Sharalee wearing eye shadow and lip gloss. Then again, it was early.

At approximately 6:00 a.m., Sharalee observed that her contractions were coming at two-minute intervals. At this point, she thought it advisable that we get to the hospital. We called my mother, who responded promptly, and left for the hospital. Not surprisingly, Sharalee was starting to panic. Not the panic of woman about to give birth to her fourth child and third daughter -- consider the wedding costs, especially in this down economy. (Those were the panicked thoughts of the father.) No, Sharalee was experiencing the panic of a woman who, having procrastinated our departure to the hospital in favor of blow-drying, may have advanced past the point of no return -- the point when you can no longer get an epidural.

And she was almost right. When we arrived, the nurse took one glance at Sharalee's face and decided we could skip triage and go straight to Labor & Delivery. The nurse also had the wherewithal to grab the anesthetist before he went to ply his wares with a non-emergency C-section down the hall. Thank goodness. A few contractions later, she was slowly descending into Numbville, population 1, when the door opened.

"Dr. Ford!" Sharalee exclaimed.

You remember that scene in the old BBC version of "Pride and Prejudice" when Mr. Darcy takes a dip in the pond before heading back to Pemberley only to find Elizabeth Bennett there? Well, picture the look on Elizabeth's face and you will approximate Sharalee's expression. (Turns out Dr. Ford didn't get off until 7:00 a.m. -- it was now 6:55.) Dr. Ford entered and gave a reassuring smile, sort of like Han Solo in the Mos Eisley cantina, you know, the "ya-but-who's-going-to-fly-it-kid" sort of expression, and sat down. He surveyed the territory, commanded the nurse and I to hitch up one leg each (Sharalee's, not ours), one push, half-a-push, and suddenly he was holding our baby.

Frankly, at that point, I could have kissed the doctor on the mouth. (I was still reeling from memories of our last delivery experience, which was like a two-hour tug-a-war with Sharalee's uterus, a.k.a. Tito Ortiz.) A few minutes later, we were alone in the room with Hazel May, the three of us staring at each other and glancing at the clock, not to mention the snow falling outside (in May!), like "what just happened?"

The rest, well, is pretty much like everyone else's experience. Here's the vitals:

Weight: 7 pounds, 14 ounces
Length: 19 and 1/2 inches
Birth time: 7:00 a.m.

And here's the pictures:



More to come later.

Another Wiley masterpiece-
for the grandparents only

WANTED: My ankles


Missing: Sometime within the last month or two my ankles have decided to take a vacation and leave me. Or it is entirely possible that aliens have taken them and left kankles in their place to run the show and they just aren't cutting it.


Since I haven't seen them in a while they may look like this. . . .


Or like this. . .


A HUGE reward will be offered for anyone who can return them to me.

The truth . . . .

This picture makes it look like this was a really tender moment.
It is pictures like this that make me want to squeeze these kids and never let go. Wiley looks like he has such a sweet love for his younger sister. Aawwww cute, right?

But the real story is we were just leaving for church. I was yelling at Wiley to put hair product in his hair and to tuck in his shirt and quit closing his eyes for every picture.

I was trying to get Eva in the picture also but apparently she doesn't know what "hold still" means or "look at the camera" so I had to settle for the older two.

Rosie on the other hand was feeling beautiful and was doing a great job of eying the camera. I only had one true participant in this photo moment. Why do family pictures have to be so hard?

Dear Mom,

Happy Mother's Day. We had a great talk in church today, and it reminded me of some things I haven't thought about for years.

Thanks for teaching us kids how to respect you. We may not have always given it but we knew it. Dad also played a role in this because he had NO patience for us disrespecting you. What a fantastic lesson. Simple, yet necessary.

(oh denim, remember when all denim was so cool?)

Thanks for teaching us how to treat each other. Brothers and sisters, that is. I love my brothers and that is because we had a peaceful home. They loved me, and they made me feel good about myself. Shane, Dan and Jeromy, were so good to me, not just siblings but also my friends. Yes, I got teased-but it was one way they showed they loved me.

(The best siblings ever!)

I've always wondered how I managed to make it through my teen years with my self esteem intact. I really believe it was because #1 Dad always said such nice things about me to other people and #2 the brothers were always good to me. You and Dad just expected it and that has made a world of difference to me. #3 I felt accomplished, whether that came from hard work or from sports, or in other ways, I felt accomplished, you encouraged all those extra things in my life; piano, soccer, cross country, summer jobs and working around the house.

I'm grateful for the dating lessons. You taught me to expect a certain behavior from boys and because Dad was so great to always open your door, or hold your hand, or do what was asked of him, then of course I expected and looked for it as well. Ben is wonderful. The perfect husband. I have you and Dad's example to thank for that.

(Oh, we have all come such a long way.)

Thanks for teaching the gospel. I have always loved that you have taken your callings and assignments so seriously. You have always shown those that you had stewardship over that you cared enough to spend the time on a lesson, an activity etc. I remember many a night when you practiced your seminary lessons on us kids. You were so great at supporting Dad with F.H.E. Because of your great example I want to be better at all my callings. I've also really admired your knowledge of the gospel. Whether you are prepping for a seminary lesson or just taking an institute class you always take it to the next level. You are both great examples of feasting on the word and not just reading the word.

Finally, thanks for your commitment to the family. Sometimes that meant fresh bread and jam after school, dinner at 6:00 p.m., (heaven forbid anyone ever missed the 6:00 dinner hour) or reading scriptures in the car on the way home from some event, (you and Dad were so good to always fit it in when it seemed impossible) and now that means flying hundreds of miles to be with us for the big moments like baptisms and baby blessings and sometimes the small moments in life like painting walls and dressers and shopping.

(Wait, I know that look. It is the same one Rosie gives me,
I guess I know where she get her attitude. te hee)

Thanks for being the example that you are. Happy Mother's Day.

I love you,
Sharalee

It's Official: Professional Student No More!


The day has come and gone. He has graduated. Finally, after nine years of full-time school, my husband finally graduated. I'm sure most of you felt the earth tremble a bit when it happened. Good job hubby.

Wait. . . it is over, right?