this post contains an ewok

So, other than dealing with my knee, this is what we've been up to lately!

I think I was babysitting, and I just put them all in shorts that fit, except Sawyer. He was content to play in his undies, which was fine until he constantly stepped to the edge of the sod to take a leak, and wet stretchy cotton is really hard for an almost-3-year-old to maneuver. We ended up seeing more and more of his plumber's crack.

The only photo I was able to take as evidence that one of my closest and longest-held friends got married in July. Kellie (the pretty blonde, second from left) married Kaine, and as I was in the wedding and wrangling a newborn, I didn't have a chance to snap any other photos. But it was probably one of the most fun weddings I have ever attended, with great little details that made it a wonderful celebration of God's goodness in bringing two lovely people together. And Kellie came down the aisle to AC/DC's Thunderstruck. Pretty fantastic! The pic is Kellie, her sisters, and her momma after we all got pedicures, despite the fact that Kellie and bridesmaids all wore cowboy boots. It was reassuring knowing that my toes were pretty under there, and hey, they're still pretty!

I brought Smith with us to Billings so he and Blake could play together and take some of the burden of entertainment off Grammie. He's modelling Grammie's readers for me.

So. Much. Pattern. But in there, you can make out a big brother adoring his sweet sister. He regularly tells me how cute Vesper is, and hugs her so gently after giving her Eskimo kisses and kissing her hands. She started smiling at us when she was about five weeks old and is either a calm stoic receiving this devotion, or a drooly, gummy, smiley face at the boy whose voice pitches surprisingly high when he's talking to her.

We sent Blake to two camps this summer, with the caveat that he had to help pay for them by performing additional chores. We'd pay increased rates for tasks completed. When we told him this plan, he opted out of any camps, deciding he wasn't THAT bored. We promptly opted him back in and started devising things for him to do that we legitimately needed help with. As one friend said, we really love that lazy little kid.

He moved a wood pile for $40, and netted $5 per wagonload of mulch for the perimeter of our house, among other chores, and absolutely loved the camps, one so much so that he's hoping to take two from that venue next summer. When talking the night before his science camp started, I let him know it was imminent, and he gasped. "Oh NO! Will they let me go? I still have to earn $40 to pay them!" I don't think he understand fully the principle behind what we were doing, so I just assured him that I'd spot him the money and he could work it down later.

My boys. Rob asked if he could put his shirt on first, and I said no. Blake asked if he could take his off and I said no. I'm harsh like that.

Celebrating saucy little Soy-boy's third birthday. Love this kid.

Vesper is still a bit unmoved by birthday parties, but it could be due to the vaccinations she received earlier in the day. She alternated between fussy and mellow and asleep.

"Little" Gunnie and Matt. That boy is all smiles! Matt... not so much. He smiles on the inside, sarcastically.

I'm two months old today!

I completely forgot to do this at one month, but I'll take a picture of her next to the same stuffed critter every month until she's one year to see the progression in size and development. I did so with Blake, and it's a riot to go back and remember each phase. Since Vesper doesn't really have a stuffed animal, I asked Blake if she could use one of his. He only really has two anymore, and he brought out EB (stands for Easter Bunny) for me to use.

Trying a different angle/background. I think I like the first one best, even if she's not smiling.

And, for Rob and Auntie Bip, here's one of her with the only other stuffed animal in the house: an Ewok. Yes, it has teeth. Look at Vesper's kissable cheeks! Girlie is packing on the pounds, and this is the only time of life where it's acceptable to be excited about that or say it out loud.

giving relieved thanks today

Before he got to the business of getting Vesper her two-month check-up and shots, my doctor reviewed the test results from my knee.

Everything was negative.

NEGATIVE, BABY!

My doc carefully explained that he wasn't a rheumatologist, but that he sees occasional reactive arthritis in post-partum women, usually a few months after delivery. It sweeps in, affects one or two joints, and goes away, never to return. He thinks that's what I had, and I am choosing to believe him.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow! Thank you, friends and family, for praying over me when I couldn't do so myself due to fear and frustration. I'm so pleased to have good news to report!

Also, Vesper is in the 50th percentile for length and over the 95th for weight. We're going to have a tank on our hands. Poor punkin was a trooper for her first round of vaccines and is finally sleeping the rough morning off. Also: I cannot believe she's already two months old.

mobile once more

The doctor's visit was a success, with some qualifiers. He drained 140 ccs from my knee (four enormous syringes' worth, or over half a cup) and shot in some steroids for good measure. The fluid was the color of Mountain Dew (normal), was not fizzy (also normal), but was cloudy (indicates inflammation, which indicates further testing is needed). That fluid and my subsequent bloodwork (again!) are being tested for gout, rheumatoid arthritis, parvovirus, and Lyme disease.

The doc thinks gout is out of the question due to my age. Parvo would be good news, despite making me feel like a dog or cat: it takes care of itself. Lyme is unclear to me: treatable, but I seem to recall it having lasting effects that crop up in all sorts of weird places. Rheumatoid arthritis (RA) seems the most likely, but for a few strange factors: my age, the single joint affected, the speed with which an appalling amount of fluid accumulated.

Doc claims he does not see any flukes, as in "That was weird - we don't know why it happened, here's hoping it doesn't come back, can't find a cause." I'm praying that I'm the exception to that rule, but he was talking like he'd be seeing me in a few weeks to drain again, and that after three times being drained, he'd need to get me on some drugs that would require me to stop breastfeeding Vesper. Having my knee refill with fluid would be totally normal for RA, but he also said that not refilling would be normal.

It is hard to know what to think, because the list of options just seems... grim. I'm praying that it's nothing, does not recur, and that this would be an anomaly in the doctor's practice. If pressed, I'm willing to admit to a desire to be a reflection of God's glory in whatever He hands me, but I would also like that to be done without further suffering on my part, as unrealistic as that is.

I brought my camera to take a picture, but I sure as hell wasn't going to do it and couldn't have done so with my eyes closed. Rob's hands were full of a fussy Vesper, and trying to soothe her without moving too much proved marvelously distracting for me. My knee feels a little weak, but that could be muscular, after favoring it all week. It's nice to be physically comfortable again and to feel confident that when I pick up my daughter, I'm not at risk for sudden collapse. I am not quite frightened about what the test results may show, but I'm more than merely anxious, and I really really really don't want to go through this again.

So now we wait.

Barf.

crippled

For the last six days, I've had a painfully swollen left knee, for no obvious reason (no injury that I'm aware of). Rather than get better (I've had fluid on the knee before, but it's always been my right knee, been very mild, and resolved in a day or two, tops), it's continued to be very swollen, get progressively more painful, and be a general pain in the ass. Or knee. All of it, really.

Finally, after it looked like I'd be spending another full day in bed to rest it, ice it, and keep it elevated, I called the doctor, in hopes that they wouldn't just look at it, agree that it was swollen, and advise more of what I was already doing. First off, I got a major shot in the arm by hearing the nurse who was helping me today confer with the nurse I usually see, outside my door: "Isn't she great? Such a sweetheart, even when she's in a bad way, and so funny!"

That made my day, and I wasn't about to fill them in on what a sassy-pants trouble-maker I can be.

The doc was really sympathetic and concerned, more so than I was, really. She ordered bloodwork and rattled off a few things that could have caused it: infection, gout, rheumatoid arthritis. "I don't think it's lupus," she said, to which my brain screamed "HOLY SHIT, IT COULD HAVE BEEN LUPUS?" Bloodwork indicated no infection, which she said was good news, but the other two best candidates are autoimmune-related, and I'm honestly worried that whatever has caused it could be something I battle the rest of my life. Not a great feeling at an otherwise robustly healthy and young 32 years.

I have an appointment tomorrow at a rheumatologist to drain the fluid, which will be both terrifying (needlewise) and instantly relieving (painwise). They may also give me steroids directly in the joint for relief, since I would not otherwise be able to take them, as a nursing mother. Wide-eyed, I told the nurse I'd probably preface the appointment with a shot of something strong (liquorwise). "Oh, they'll numb it," she assured me.

"Oh, so will I!" I assured her right back.

And just so you can see that I'm not over-stating things, here is the knee. So pretty!

 One of these things is not like the other!

Makes being a sleep-deprived nursing mother the least of my worries.

a good long one

First off, I should apologize to Gailzee: she didn't say I suck at updating. She said I wasn't being very good at it, with a baby and all. I use hyperbole, folks, so much so that when I'm not exaggerating (the cauliflower from our CSA was the size of a soccer ball, and I'm being completely serious), I have to point it out.

For reals: a soccer ball of cauliflower. Crazy.

I'm in it deep with the sleep deprivation, and Vesper's even a pretty good sleeper! I think it's a cumulative thing that's just caught up to me: being interrupted one to two times a night wears you down. I tend to avoid posting online when I don't have anything wry or nice to say, and that's where I'm at: patience worn thin, tired, crabby, and snappish. Then my mom gently requested an update that was innocuous enough: a picture or two, maybe letting folks know what's up with Blake, Vesper's new tricks of smiling and engaging with us.

I ripped Mom's head off and shoved it down her neck, all over the phone.

See? That is hyperbole. She was very nice about the request and I can be very nice about complying. Except, no, not really. I have to be a little bitchy, or you wouldn't know it was me!

 The clutch of Huns. There are something like sixteen chicks in this picture, and it was the closest I could get, but you can click to enlarge.

 When Vesper was a week old, the Perrines and the Myers all came to Bozeman, and we had a family friend get a few full family (for now) shots. This one makes me especially happy, because Blake can sometimes be a bit of a shit to his younger cousins, and Maddox in particular just idolizes him. 

 All the boys. Holy Moses, that's a lotta boys. Can you imagine how badly future gatherings of our families will smell?!

 All the everyone. What a blessing to enjoy the fabulous relationships that we do!

 Boys, jumping. Or threatening with Spidey hands.

 We went to Coeur d'Alene for the 4th of July! It was a touch long of a drive from someone just a few weeks out of labor and delivery, but once there, we had a great time with the Perrine family. Audrey is getting so big and was so happy, even when she high-centered herself on her playmat.

 The Bedford grandies came over from Spokane to meet their newest granddaughter over lunch at Panda Express. They approve!

 A: Wipe that look off your face.

R: I told you that the lake, of all places, was the ONE PLACE to avoid on the 4th of July.

A: Oops!

The kids played on the bounce houses and we visited the most enormous playground ever before calling it a (hot) day and heading back to the house. I also sorely missed having a stroller, but at least Vesper was still comparatively light in her car seat.

 Pretty girls! Lane and I had such a fun, snarky time people-watching and feeling MUCH better about our bodies, clothing, and life choices after seeing what else was out there and on display. The only thing that kept me from dropping a pencil in the crack of one heavily tattooed young man was the lack of a pencil and my sense of self-preservation.

 Getting used to each other. She looks unsure, which means she DOES look like me sometimes!

 V: MOM, I LOVE THIS.

R: (to me) I know you're trying to save money and all, but we are buying one of these swings AS SOON as we get back to Bozeman. Maybe we should get two: one for downstairs and one for my office.

 The Bedford clan, sans Bethany, drove over for a few days to bring the dog, help around the house (we now have a large pile of cut wood, thanks to Cec!), and hold a baby. Aislynn told us quite often that she loved Besber, and could she hold her again?

 Smile?

 How about try not to look too weird, sullen, or angry? This is the best we got of the grandkids, and one's even missing (she was asleep).

 I was in Billings for a quick overnight to help one of my dearest friends practice her wedding makeup, and I had to let Aunt Gail know I was coming. She planned to come over about the same time Kellie was going join me. When I mentioned that I'd be preoccupied with Kellie, Gail promptly assured me she didn't care WHAT we were doing, she was just going to hold that baby, and it was a good thing I'd called her. If I had snuck in and out of town without telling Gail, she probably would have hurt me.

I handed her to Rob, assuring him that she'd just eaten and would be happy for the hour or so it would take me to get groceries. "This is awesome," he whispered as they snuggled in together. I got back and they hadn't moved, though he wasn't sleeping anymore, because he was afraid to do anything to wake her. The coffee he'd brewed before I left sat untouched on the counter, and I teased him for a bit before I eventually poured him a cup.

I don't have pictures of the latest and greatest things: Vesper's smiles and eye contact. Blake took part in a science camp this last week that was WONDERFUL. He loved it and learned a lot, I got a restful week knowing he wasn't bored or in front of a screen, and Vesper just slept through most of it. Vesper's passed the six-weeks-old peak for evening fussiness, so I hope to see that continue to taper off (though last night was rough), and we'll start working on that whole "sleeping through the night" thing soon. It's been hot as hell around here, but between our magical whole-house fan and Bozeman temps that can dip into the 40s at night, our house is freezing until the afternoon, when it's simply cool, but you still don't want to turn on the stove or oven to cook anything. 

Life with a dog is going pretty well, though Rob and I have different expectations about what that looks like. So far, Thrall doesn't seem to think I'm a dominant entity around here, which just shows he doesn't know me, but it's hard to want to put in the time needed to fix his misperception when I'm already tapped out with a full-time baby and nearly-full-time seven-year-old. I've taken on the task of feeding him ("You eat at my pleasure because I'm more alpha than you."), and now that we have a stroller, we can hopefully go on family walks to accustom him to a leash and other dogs and, you know, obedience.

And... that's all I got.

oh yeah

And in the middle of all this newness, we got a dog, Thrall. Rob and his sister, Rachel, adopted Thrall as a puppy before he and I met. When we married, Rachel's family took the dog with them, and Rob's pined for a dog ever since.

One cute time, he even brought a puppy home to the condo. I laughed and told him he'd better take it back to his owner. He was wide-eyed and disingenuous, wondering why that owner couldn't be us, and I laughed harder and sternly reminded him of the no-yard, 1000-square-feet we lived in, his 55-hour/week job, and my lack of desire to raise a puppy by myself in the current situation. He sadly returned the puppy to the owner and I agreed to revisit the dog idea after we had a house with a yard, kennel, and fence (not just the house - I knew I'd have to be very specific). Unfortunately, the fence is outside the budget this year, but he was just confident that we'd have the dog on so many walks, it wouldn't be necessary.

I suggested that, rather than getting a puppy, we float the idea of taking Thrall to be our dog past his sister. She willingly agreed (with two daughters, a job, and being in school, she has no additional time for a pet), and Thrall came to live with us last week. It's been stressful on all of us (except Blake, who thanks God for Thrall in every prayer), but I think we're rounding a bend. He got a haircut and shots today, so he's not only getting used to the new digs, but he's no longer in danger of heatstroke any time we take him on a walk, nor of contracting rabies from a random animal bite. Here's hoping he adjusts to being an excellent pup for our family and that all the other people that filter through can love him too (I'm looking at you, Joel!).

We believe he's a German Shepherd/Leonberger cross, so summer haircuts will be a regular thing for him, both to alleviate the heat and to reduce the risk we'll all die from the massive hairballs taking over in our sleep (though he's an outside dog, the hairballs are thisclose to becoming sentient and opening doors).

because aunt gail says i suck at this

But she did acknowledge that I have my hands full. Vesper is five weeks as of today - amazing. She's an easy baby, though has the same issues all babies have at this age: up once or twice to eat in the night, poopy blowouts that are wildly inconvenient (right in the middle of a restaurant? sure!), evening fussy time that Rob once optimistically set from "about 6:00 to about 10:00." My response: "Since when are you deaf from 10:00 to midnight?!"

These pics are from her very earliest days - still getting caught up over here.

He adores her. I think this is a day or two after we got home from the hospital.

Proud and protective.

Taking a nap with my kids on the couch = God's promises to me in action. (Side note: my chloasma - the mask of pregnancy that's due to increased melanin in the face - got really pronounced, and I'm sporting orangey/brownish/yellow splotches, so I'm a bit camera-shy yet. You can really see it here.)

Disregarding all those pesky rules about "no soft materials in the crib." Also disregarding all rules of style, given the number of colors and patterns going on here. She's a rebel.

I've warned him that if he doesn't give her face a little more space, she's going to end up spitting up right in his mouth (this happened to another friend with kids about the same age - the big brother now gives the little sister a much more respectful berth).

Newborn clothes from Lane: more like dressing a doll than I would have believed. I didn't quite make it all the way through the newborn stuff, mostly because I'm lazy, but also because the majority were for a baby born in cooler months, and V would have cooked.

Mom and Lane, Vesper and Audrey. Lane's comment was "MY MASSIVE BABY IS GOING TO EAT YOUR TINY ONE!" However, Audie's little feet are the same length as V's (though chubbier). I'm not sure how she'll be able to walk on those pegs!

My family, loving each other. Isn't it grand?

Hot hot days call for pool parties with cousins and friends.

Blake taking a whack at Optimus Prime. That orange blur is the bat.

Proud papa with a baby that somehow looks just like him, but is also pronouncedly feminine, especially for an infant (they all tend to look genderless for a while).

The changing station in the living room is right next to a mirror. It's one of her favorite spots in the house, which is a little worrisome this early!

Ok. Off to finish the laundry (four loads in two days), empty the dishwasher, reload the diaper bag, heat up dinner, and sit down to it just in time for Vesper to wake up and ensure my meal is cold by the time I get to it. She's got a baby's uncanny sense of when Mama is about to eat, tuning up to be sure SHE eats first. She's remarkably persuasive about this argument, too, much to my dismay.

another round of pics

I have yet to get all MY photos from my camera, but until then, here are the last from my mom. I also need Lane's pics from when she was here, because there are some heart-meltingly cute ones of Vesper and Bing (he has a particularly soft spot for babies).

Gunner George! Reese hosted us for dinner the day I left the hospital (I think), just so we could all be together without overwhelming me too much. Plus our sod was so new that the kids wouldn't have been able to play on it, which is lame.

Audrey Claire! Lane had taken her to Target and some random lady had commented on the cute little boy, so Audgie was consigned to frills and flowers the rest of her time here. Gotta make it obvious, people!

Dressed up like a doll in some of the many clothes Auntie Lane brought with her. I've had quite the time getting her in everything at least once before she outgrows it!

With limited space for sleeping people, Maddox sacked out for a nap on the couch.

Pretty in pink, practice for a family photo Mom made happen the week after she was born, with EVERYONE (so far) in it.

Oops, the flower slipped. "It's as big as my face, Mom!"

The card making station: we all made cards to send to Great-Grammie (Mom's mom), because days after Vesper was born, GG was having emergency open-heart surgery for two major blockages. She's doing well now, praise God!

The three most recent grandies (#12, #13, and #14 of GG's fourteen great-grandkids... nine of which come from us Myers girls). Audrey (center) is the oldest, born in late January. Gunner (right) entered in mid-February. Vesper is one week old here and is downright swarthy compared to her golden-cheeked cousins!

"unusual without being weird"

Vesper: Latin, meaning evening prayers
Eileen: Gaelic, meaning pleasant

We had a very, very short list of girl names, and one solid boy name that we'll reserve for the potential of actually getting to use it in the future (it's both Biblical and familial, and that's all you get unless you ask in person). One thing Rob felt strongly about was having Taylor as a middle name, to honor his mother's side of the family, as it's her maiden name.

Truthfully, the only girl name I even remember from our super-short list is Charlotte, but we didn't love it enough and weren't committed to it. Then I recalled a character from a book series I'd read back in middle school. Her name was Vesper Holly. I won't say that our daughter is named after her, but recently getting that series in hardcover from PaperbackSwap sparked my memory. Vesper Lynd is also a Bond girl and the Vesper is a Bond martini, but the film version of Casino Royale came out AFTER I had decided I'd really liked the name (I have it written down somewhere as a potential girl's name, on something that predates Rob and possibly even big Blake).

Then we tried the three names together: Vesper Taylor Bedford. And it had too many ER sounds. Rob liked Vesper too, enough to suggest that he bend on his grandparents' last name and go with his grandmother's first name instead: Eileen. I looked up the origin and meaning of two names, decided it made us sound more holy than we were, and we had a name we loved! As one friend put it, it's unusual without being weird, which is what we were going for. After all, until a certain British pop star came around, Adele had the benefit of being unusual without being weird, and I've almost always appreciated that fact.

Now I'm getting used to actually USING the name... which is hard. I have called this baby Marilla or biscuit for so long that using and hearing the name Vesper is a bit startling! I also find myself adding many names that are not actually her middle name to the mix: Vesper Lynn (my mom's middle name, but it's too much like the Bond girl and "West Berlin") and Vesper Grace (a different spelling of Bethany's middle name) are a few.

I absolutely refuse to get lazy, however, and lapse into Vespa. My beautiful little girl is not a motor scooter that doesn't top 35 MPH. I'd rather call her Harley.