Advice

All new mothers should live in someone else's basement.  Especially when that someone else includes a stay-at-home mom with six children.  Because someone always there to hold the baby while you do laundry or go to Sonic really makes motherhood something grand.

Little Guy

Our son Silas was born twelve days ago, a whopping 12 days late. He was born in style--in a cabin out behind the wood shop, right next to the most productive garden I've ever seen.  While I hung out in the whirlpool, our midwife and her helper were in the kitchen peeling peaches and chatting in German. We all stopped in between contractions to pray together when the pushing got rough. 

I could include all the gory details, but chances are I'd never finish this post if I did.  Our birth was great almost every way, but following the birth things got a little rough.  But thank God, we made it.  We are still making it.

In the end, I must say that this little guy is my greatest accomplishment.  Waiting for him to arrive was the hardest thing I've ever done.  Giving birth to him was the hardest thing I've ever done.  Recovering from giving birth, tearing, postpartum hemorrhaging, and a very rough start at breastfeeding was (and still is) the hardest thing I've ever done.

But things are looking up: I can scoot around and change positions in bed all I want.  I can hold and maneuver him with ease.  I no longer dread going to the bathroom.  I can breathe and walk at the same time.

I'm thankful for all of these things, for my wonderful husband (who didn't let me change a single diaper for a whole week), and for our future together as a family.