Sweet Sixteen.

Today my sweet, funny, ornery Levi is 16 months old. Much to my dismay, yes, I am that parent that will probably forever refer to my child's age in months. Or maybe just until he's two. That seems like it could be a good stopping point. Who knows though. I mean, here I am 10 months past an originally set stopping point for me. I'm going to make some people uncomfortable and talk about that again, too.

Before pregnancy I was on the fence about breastfeeding. I thought maybe I would do it, but maybe not. It was weird to think about, it made me uncomfortable,  I was that person who felt awkward when others would feed their babies in front of me. In many cases I wouldn't even look at them while feeding for fear of it becoming uncomfortable or *gasp* I might see a boob. Whatever.

As pregnancy went on and eventually Levi was born I had made up my mind. I would try and I would hopefully make it to 6 months. That was long enough to give him the immunities he could gain from me and short enough that he couldn't walk up and tell me to pull it out and feed him. It seemed like a fair compromise, and I was happy with the decision.

As most everyone knows, we didn't get the textbook breastfeeding relationship I hoped for. In fact, I only got to nurse him for 2 months before his feeding tube was placed and we had to supplement with formula to help his GI issues. By the time I tried to get him to latch again he was no longer interested in working for his food thanks to the instant gratification of the tube and bottles. It killed me inside and we both cried together the two times I tried before completely giving up, surrendering myself to the pump. I still had 1-2 months left to meet that 6 month goal.

Once we figured out that Levi couldn't tolerate much of anything due to the allergies I had made my mind made up. I would pump until he was a year old keeping a special diet so he can tolerate it. He's not latched on me so it won't be uncomfortable or awkward for me. I can totally do this.  And I did, from December 6, 2013 to almost August 2014 I didn't eat anything containing dairy, soy, wheat, eggs, peanuts, treenuts, fish or shellfish. For about a month or so that list also included corn, crazy right? The doctors seemed to think so. They almost seemed like they wanted to talk me out of it, like it wasn't possible. But it was, and I did it.

When you look back at pictures and see a sickly skinny, failing to thrive baby that is your own it's incredibly heart breaking. How could we not see just how bad it was? I'm not saying he wasn't cute, let's be honest he's always been amazingly adorable, but how could we repetedly post pictures for the world to see of him looking this way? People must have thought we were crazy not to see this. Comparing the results of my diet and continuing to pump for him to those while he was FTT continue to amaze us. He's grown to this beautifully mostly healthy boy, on the growth charts and finally meeting milestones, because of what I can do for him. I'm going past a year.

The doctors, both pediatrician and GI, began to tell me that if I could make it until 2 years I would be doing the best for Levi. I looked at them like they were insane. Do they realize that my life revolves around this tiny machine? Pump for 20-30 minutes every 3-4 hours stressing over every drop and ounce praying that I make enough to continue helping him, make sure I have all my parts clean and working, feed Levi, and repeat.

Want to make plans? Sure, I just have to be back home by 4, due to pump and I really can't push past 4 hours. Want to come hang out at our place? I'll have to escape once or twice to the bedroom to pump so it's not awkward for either of us, feel free to entertain yourself though. Appointment today? Okay I'll do a 3 hour stretch now, a 2 hour stretch right before we leave and after a 4 hour to make up for the extra hour so we have enough time to get everything done. There is literally nothing convenient or glorious about pumping, but I'll spare you the gory details.

So here we are at 16 months. I'm still not eating dairy, soy or almond and it's kind of second nature. I haven't had real ice cream in over a year, and I miss Chinese and Thai food more than I can explain. But more than my love for certain foods, I love that sweet little boy. He is my world and I would do anything for him, including watching my husband devour his own Chocolate Thunder from Down Under while I sip my lemonade.

In January I pumped 162 times for a total of 3200 minutes. That's 53.3 hours, or just over 2 days. I was able to give Levi 1118.5 ounces, or 8 3/4 gallons, of milk that he can tolerate and I wouldn't have it any other way.

April will be 18 months and at that point I will reevaluate where we stand. I actually just bought a new pump and am toying with the idea of continuing to 2 years. Of course his intake would slow down and the need to run my life around the pump would drop, what's 6 more months after this long? We'll see.

Twenty Fifteen

If I'm being honest, I think New Years Resolutions are kind of silly. More often than not people set goals that are either unattainable or immeasurable and then drop them within a week. I'm usually one of those people. But if done right I think they can be a good foundation to base your year off, and why not use the first of the year for a fresh start? So, in the spirit of making changes for the better that ARE possible to achieve and keep track of, here are my goals for 2015.

 -I'd like to make it a habit to keep in better touch with family back home. I've often been bothered by my lack of urgency to keep in touch, and I think it's time to make the change. Being even farther away from home now and having a more extreme time difference makes it tough to connect sometimes, but I'd like to have non-facebook conversations at least once a week.

 -I waste a lot of valuable time on electronics, be it my phone, kindle, computer or video games. I'd like to disconnect a bit from these platforms (aside from communication and capturing memories through pictures) in order to spend more quality time with Toby and Levi. As of now, I haven't decided the best way to measure, or how far to cut back, but it is a change that's much needed!

- I want to make the most of our time in Hawaii. Washington really took a toll on me, causing a lot of anxiety and weather-caused depression, I feel better than ever since we've been on the island! Ideally, I would like to tackle a new adventure at least 3 weekends a month while here. Whether that be a hike, a new beach, a historical site or a new restaurant once my diet permits, it might just lie in the fate of a piece of paper drawn out of a bucket!

-I would like to develop a fitness plan and stick to it. I don't like attaching numbers to these sort of goals, I find watching weight or size really discourages me. Feeling good from the inside out is what I find most important and that is what I would like to strive for. I got a FitBit for Christmas, we're in a beautiful new place to explore and stay active, and I have a growing toddler to keep me constantly on my toes. All that's left will be to make sure I feed my body for success and not for convenience.

-Last, I would like to have homemade meals for dinner at least 4 of 7 nights a week, subject to increase if I can get into a good schedule with it! Not only will this be more fiscally responsible, but I can keep track of what's going in our bodies. Knowing we may be dealing with allergies in the long run, this is important as it can be intimidating and hard to find options when dining out, as well as hoping your dietary needs are truly being followed. Note that I didn't mention myself cooking all of those meals ;)

Here's to a happy and healthy 2015 from my family to yours!


**I would also like to mention that I'm toying around with the idea of switching blog platforms for those that follow me (when I do write!) I'm hoping to keep up better as we will be taking on many new adventures here, so keep an eye out!

Aloha. Hello...Goodbye...

Hello

You know that feeling of trying to do the impossible, or something damn near close, and actually succeeding? On Friday the 12th we were shocked, although thrilled, to find out that Levi was going to be big brother. We'd been so preoccupied with the move that I hadn't been doing any of the normal tracking/charting/symptom spotting it can require, let alone seeking treatment as it took the first time. It actually happened for us, my body did what it was supposed to, I'm fixed! I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and Toby was given another early morning wake up to confirm for me. This was really happening.

I looked up a few offices in the area, trying to score an appointment for dating and blood work. Finding a new doctor, in a place you're 3 days new to, and hoping they accept your insurance is a near hopeless act. The doctor everyone most recommended was taking vacation and booked solid until the middle of January. Knowing my early complications with Levi, I didn't want to take the risk, I called every day to check for cancellations or openings. I begged them to just let me come in for blood work, I didn't need to have an ultrasound I just wanted to make sure my hormone levels were where they should be. I tried to get into the military hospital in the area to hold me off, and was denied because I didn't have the "correct form of Tricare."

I ended up calling my doctor in Washington, explained the situation since they knew my history, and they offered to try and get me a progesterone prescription out here to hold me over. In the mean time, my office out here had a cancellation for the 6th and that was the best they could do.

I was defeated, and my only option left was to wait until I could be seen on the 6th.

Goodbye

It was over before it started, honestly. I should have tried harder for an appointment, I should have just went through the process of switching my insurance despite our negative experiences at the military hospitals, I should have prevented the situation from happening until everything was set and I had doctors lined up.

We went to the ER Thursday the 18th. I knew what was happening, but I was holding onto the small sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, it was still early enough that they could get me to progesterone. It wasn't. My HCG was a 10, where it should have been close to 10,000. My uterus was measuring 7 weeks, where we thought I was only around 5 or 6. It was too little, too late and I failed my sweet baby.

We're doing alright, surprisingly. Levi is being a lovey, cuddly sweetheart. Toby is helping extra where he can, picking up where I'm slacking. I'm trying to go on as I should, but who is to say what that standard is? I have a beautiful, amazing child that I was blessed with. I can't let this bring me down so far as to neglect him and lack on the attention he should be receiving. I can't let this get under my skin so much as the holidays approach and we should be celebrating and starting traditions as a family. But this is life, it happened, and it hurts.

What would he or she have looked like? Would a two year age difference allow Levi and them to have been as close as we hoped? Would Levi have been the amazing big brother that I imagined him to be?

Life is full of so many unanswered questions, but this was one I was one I never expected to know.

Breast is best, for us.

I usually don't talk about this stuff because I feel like it's personal and know not everyone is comfortable with it, but today I realized I'm pretty much a beast.

As April is drawing to a close I'm seeing all my fellow October mommies post about their 6 month breastfeeding milestones and how awesome it is. I didn't get that opportunity due to Levi's struggles, and once we were finally allowed to nurse again he was no longer interested.

But even through him being on formula I've continued pumping, and that takes a lot out of a person. There is no convenience, and no killing two birds with one stone. I'm attached to my machine every 3 or so hours, so not lose my supply. Yet I'm still doing it. I've had to throw out and donate well over 600 ounces due to allergies and such. Yet I've still continued. I've given up dairy and soy for 5 months plus wheat, eggs, nuts, tree nuts, fish and shellfish for 4 months. Yet I'm still going.

Am I crazy? Maybe. But I'm a mom who is willing to do anything to keep her baby healthy. And while I may not have exclusively breastfed for 6 months,  I've been been an exclusively pumping for 5 and I'd say that's pretty damn awesome.

Here We Stand

Let me start off by saying I've wanted to update everyone a million times, but I felt awkward and embarrassed. I felt like if I put this out there we would be judged, ridiculed, and looked at differently by some. But the more I thought, the more I realized... If anyone had something less than supportive to say about the situation they obviously aren't who we thought they were in our lives. With that said, I know there will be private judgement anyway and speculation of what "really" is going on, I know there will be those who will find it tacky or trashy that we would air our "dirty laundry" for the world, and then there will be those who love us, support us, and trust us while standing by our side as we fight through this. The latter are those I'm writing this for. Those who have stood by us through our journey to Levi, during Levi's health scares, and will continue to after the fact. Those who have prayed for us, for the known and the unknown. We're ready to let you know just what those unknown prayers are for.

This has been the hardest two months of our lives. We have never felt more scared or uncertain. We've never been more hurt by things said to us; accusations, opinions and assumptions. Never in a million years did we think this could or even would happen to us. I can honestly say that I have found the one thing worse than dealing with infertility to achieve our child, and that is the potential for him to be taken away.

Levi was admitted to the children's hospital per his GI before we even left the office on November 22. His vomiting was out of control, his weight was down, and we needed to get him hydrated and gaining weight. We had no idea what was going to happen while we were in the hospital or the hell we would be put through following that visit. Part of his treatment plan was to have an NG tube, later advanced to an NJ tube placed. To do this there was a need for X-rays to assure correct placement, Levi received four on separate days. It wasn't until the 26th, when he received the fourth X-ray, that our fate was sealed. They found a fractured rib in our baby.

The GI came in to tell us, he explained that it looked to have been about 2 weeks old based on the calcification. He told us that he had no doubts about us, but per hospital policy he needed to report it. The child abuse specialist from the hospital had to come see us, and we would also need to speak to the hospital social worker. Levi needed to have more tests done, a bone scan and an MRI. Despite finding nothing aside from the rib, CPS became involved and that's when the worst came to light.

The abuse "specialist" attacked us from the moment she met us. Accusations were thrown and hurtful things said. We were told that his injury was caused by squeezing Levi and that it would be easy to get that frustrated with "a baby like Levi, with his health problems and crying." Every possibly idea we had for his fracture was brushed to the side. It couldn't have been when we swaddled him or tucked him in too tight. It definitely wasn't caused by massaging his belly for gas relief too hard or tightening his car seat too much. We questioned all his previous doctor and hospital visits, we were grasping at straws to find someway, somehow our baby had been hurt. But no, the "nature of the injury" seemed to prove that one of us had squeezed him. She went so far as to say that he could have been run over by a car and not sustained the fracture. This is when we knew we had a long road ahead of us, we just didn't realize all that it held.

Levi was placed in 72 hour protective custody. Had we not been in the hospital we would not have been able to stay with him, he would have been placed in foster care. However, until we had a family member out with us we couldn't leave the hospital with him. At that point, November 30, Toby's dad came out to stay with us for the week. Finally, after a week in the hospital, we were returning home. We had home visits and meetings, and it was then decided that they would continue pursuing our case. If no family member could stay with us, once again they would be looking to put Levi into the system. Luckily my mom then came out, and stayed with us from December 6th until January 16th, when other circumstances were put into place, doing whatever we can to keep our baby in our home, in our care.

We have taken polygraphs and personality inventories, we have two different social workers coming into our home weekly and have unannounced visits from the case worker. We are trying day after day to figure out how this could have happened to our sweet boy, who we sought after for so long. We question ourselves for seeking medical attention so often. While we know it was right, getting him the help he needs, we are so hurt that it seems to have backfired on us. From birth until this surfaced Levi had been in the care of a medical professional at least once a week, sometimes more. It was never noted that he was in pain, he was never inconsolable, and there was never any bruising. My birthing physician has even written to say it was possible that it was acquired during the c-section. We have found that the abuse "specialist" has previously falsely accused parents of abuse, mistaking birthmarks for bruises, and they continue to take her word. It seems the state of Washington's system has a malicious agenda against us, they're only goal is to tear our family apart and all we can do is stand our ground in the line of fire.

We have appointments, meetings, and so much more taking up all of our time, but we are standing strong as a family. We have received an overwhelming amount of support from the family and friends we have previously confided in, and we couldn't be more grateful. There is such a long road ahead of us but we know we can get through this by standing strong, the three of us together. It's funny how the things you think will break you most tend to only make you stronger, and that's just what it's doing for us.

Sweet Child Of Mine

Now that my little man is 3 months old, I just realized I never got around to posting Levi's journey into the world! I typed it a while back, mostly for my own safe keeping, but have had a few ask about it. Nothing gruesome or horribly detailed, just a typical labor gone wrong scene from a movie haha. Anyway, here it is!

 So on Monday the 7th we had our 40 week appt, I was 40w5d and ready to go! We were expecting an NST, an ultrasound to check fluids and planning to discuss induction dates. As seemed to have been a trend for my appointments, my doctor was out delivering and should be back "at any time." In the mean time, the nurse hooked me up for my NST and started monitoring that while we were waiting.

Someone called, and she's the only nurse in the office (there's also an office manager but she just does the desk/billing) so she had to go take it. While she was out DH watched the little chart recording and I started to have a contraction. OH, that's what a real one feels like! My eyes started watering and I couldn't talk through it, it seriously hurt so bad. That's when DH got a little nervous and started asking what things meant on it, "Well this one went down really low when this one went up! What's UA? What's HR?" I knew HR was his heart rate, and assumed the other one had to do with contractions.. eventually we deducted uterine activity but who knows if we were right. Anyway, our sweet boy's heart rate dropped from 150 to 70 with that contraction, a big no no. The nurse actually told us at that point we should have went out and interrupted her phone call, but we obviously didn't know any better.

So the doctor still wasn't back after a half hour of monitoring (I was contracting every 10 minutes and didn't even know other than the big one!), and the nurse called to see what we should do. When she came back I was told to go home and get our things and head to the hospital because I needed more monitoring, a test with Pitocin to start contractions and see how he would react, and would probably be having a baby. So that's what we did, came home, and our lovely kitty boy obviously knew something was up because he had pushed his way into our room (it's been off limits since May) and was laying in baby's bed. NOT COOL JACK. We packed, and out the door we went.

She told us she had called the hospital but I guess they had no idea we were coming. This was the first red flag. We got into the triage room and they began to monitor me and I had to explain what was happening. Well this flake took it as I was telling them I was supposed to be getting induced and told me "I wish doctors wouldn't tell patients what WE are going to do, it just gets their hopes up." We tried explaining it was just to monitor his HR and that was it, but she wasn't having any of it. So I was monitored with my little baby contractions and everything looked fine to her since she didn't do what she was supposed to. At that point she called my doctor to say things looked fine and that since they were completely full there was nothing they could do at that point. That's funny, because she had just told us they were full except one room, and even told us it was room #7. Whatever lady. Well, my doctor didn't like that and he called to my room to talk to me. He told me he wanted me to go to the other hospital he delivers at and we agreed that was best. THIS LADY CALLED HIM BACK AND TRIED TO TALK HIM INTO SENDING ME HOME INSTEAD. Oh yeah, and we could hear her and the other nurse talking about me the whole time since my room was behind their desk. Real professional. Anyway, my doctor said no, discharge me and let me leave.

Scene 2.

We're at the next hospital and being monitored, with the Pitocin, NO WAY! The nurse isn't liking what she's seeing after a few hours and calls my doc, he says it's c-section time. So they all go about doing what they do, calling another doctor and all the techs or whatever they need and DH gets in his scrubs. I'm all hooked up to things and unhooked from others, have my sweet hair net in.... and we wait. The nurse comes back in and says the doctor is going to call my room and that she's sorry... Uhhh?

Well no doctor that works with my doctor is available to come section me. It's a good thing my kid is loving contractions and not in danger or anything. My doctor, who is so sweet with words, tells me that for the interest of my baby we need to "go the the other hospital again and be ready for a section, we can't risk baby's death over this." I love this guy, he's the one that talks to me about my stretch marks every visit lol. So everything is taken off, the hospital makes sure there are no legalities by letting me go, and we're off again. Sounds short lived, but it was a good 3-4 hours there.

Scene 3.

Back at the first hospital, never been so thankful for a shift change in my life. Back in triage to be monitored... AGAIN. Because obviously nothing is actually wrong, my doctor is just concerned for no reason. After an hour or so there we find out there's one lady before me who is working on a VBAC. Apparently when those are happening nobody else can have a baby because the anesthesiologist was "on call" for her until she had her baby. At that point I finally lost it and started crying, my baby is showing distress when I contract, and there's nothing anyone will do to help him. Good thing this wasn't an emergence of anything. So now, the nurse makes DH take a sandwich and tells me I can't eat anything because I'm waiting on a section. I had a bagel for breakfast at 7:30, and a piece of turkey and cheese rolled up at 1:30. It's now 8ish and I'm beyond hungry, tired, worried... Yeah no control on the emotions.

She comes back in a while later and takes me to a new room, it's a recovery room but she thought we would be more comfortable since it's looking like tonight isn't going to happen. Around 11 she comes in and lets me know it won't be, and that I can eat. That was probably the best Subway I've ever tasted in my life. It probably could have been dirt on bread and I wouldn't have cared though. We also find out that baby seems to have settled and now my doctor wants to try to induce in the morning instead of going c-section. Whatever, just get my baby out healthy PLEASE. Sleepy time, morning time, 6am and we're moved to a delivery room.

In this room they started the Pitocin and I was monitored from about 6:30 to 11:00 ish. I had to move to this side, that side, stand, oxygen mask, this side, that side, sit up, stand. Nope, baby doesn't like contractions. He's not having any of it. So my nurse leaves to call the doc, and at 11:30 said my doctor will be in at 12:00pm for surgery. Nothing like short notice, even if we knew it was a possibility the whole time. So DH got ready, he looked like the hazmat guys from Monsters Inc. which cracked me up. I needed that with as nervous as I was.. he held my hand and tried to calm me down and then it was go time.

Once in the OR it was flipping FREEZING. I couldn't decide if I was shaking from nerves or from being so cold, but they gave me a blanket and my sweet nurse held my hands while we did the spinal. Oh the spinal. I guess I'm kind of a misfit because it took him FIVE TRIES before we finally got it. No matter how far right he tried the needle I kept getting horrible pain in my left leg. I could tell he was getting frustrated and he actually told me that if the last try didn't work I would be put under instead. That freaked me out because I knew DH wouldn't be in the room in that case. Poor guy already had to be waiting outside during the spinal so he had no clue what was happening while we tried and tried again.

Finally, it worked and I started getting numb. I didn't like it at all, and all I could think about is what if something went wrong with all the tried and it never wore off. Nerves are fun. So in the mean time I focused on just moving my arms and fingers, the limbs I could feel. They put my screen up and everything and then I had another mini heart attack wondering if they forgot about DH. He came in a few seconds later, informing me that when my doctor walked out of the OR during the spinal debacle he went to get a coke. Must have needed a caffeine boost. So it began, obviously I couldn't feel any pain but I could feel pulling/tugging sensations and that was weird. I was also insanely itchy which sucked because it was only on my face. I actually ended up scratching my face raw because of it, that was cool.

Anyway, they had the special care nurses in the room since the decels were so prominent, along with what felt like 50 other people. My sweet boy was delivered at 1:11pm pacific time, weighing 7 lbs 1.7 oz and just barely 19 inches long. He had the cord around his neck, and a ton of fluid in his lungs but was otherwise healthy, they said. I cried when I first heard him, and DH got to leave my side to go stand with him while he was checked and cleaned. I got to "hold" baby for a bit while I was being finished up, the nurse was actually holding him by my face for me haha. At that point DH and the little one left to recovery, I was still being stitched up and fighting falling asleep because I didn't want to miss a minute of seeing my baby. Going on 2 days and 3 nights of no sleep and fighting it while on morphine is pretty tricky, but I managed!

Once in recovery I finally got to hold my boy skin to skin, and once I could see his face more clearly we decided that he did in fact look like a Levi. We sat in recovery for about 2 hours, DH learned how to bathe, diaper and dress Levi while I continued fighting to stay awake. The nurses also tried helping us to breast feed but as I've recently posted, it's a work in progress.

Levi did end up with a rough start, that night he was whisked away to the nursery because of low blood sugar levels and issues regulating his own temperature. My mom was finally in from Ohio so DH went with Levi and Mom and I stayed in my room. Funny actually, it was the first non-triage room from the day before.. kind of felt like our home away from home! They finally came back about 2 hours later, and after fighting for it I finally did skin to skin again with my boy. Low and behold, his temp went back up... Good thing the nurses knew what was best by telling me he needed swaddled and covered, not undressed. He got to stay with us that night, and the next day but then Wednesday night was the big scare.

They came in to check his oxygen saturation and it was low, they brought in 2 more machines to check and it was low on all 3. He was again, whisked away and the three of us followed. My poor baby had IVs put it, heart monitors and oxygen monitors and otherwise put on. At one point he had an oxygen "helmet" put on him. It was rough and beyond emotional, we were told he probably had a heart issue or a lung problem, maybe a lung infection and all we could do was wait for results. He had to stay over night, I was in too much pain and felt like a horrible mommy for going back to my room. In the morning he would get an EKG and continue being monitored.

Luckily everything looked fine on the EKG, we get another one when he's 6 weeks just to be sure, and eventually his levels evened out on everything. He had to stay two nights in the nursery, Wednesday and Thursday, and finally on Friday he came back to our room. The nurse that day did a suction thing in his tummy because he was still being very spit-uppy every time he fed... Come to find out he still had a ton of amniotic fluid inside so it was no wonder he never wanted to eat. That night was a little rough but we survived and finally on Saturday we were discharged to come home.

That's What Little Boys Are Made Of

On April 26th we were blessed to find out our little miracle baby is in fact a boy! It wasn't too much of a surprise, Mommy and Daddy's intuition was spot on. However, it was the first ultrasound I teared up on, and it made everything seem so much more real. Maybe the fact that I'm about half way done also played a big part on that, since in less than 5 months we should have our little man in our arms!

So that said, what are little boys made of? Apparently nothing too horrible! It's actually been a relatively easy pregnancy so far. I've had no morning sickness, or afternoon or evening, no crazy cravings that I can't control, and I've only had a few mood swings so far! I've been blessed in the heartburn department, or lack of, and haven't blimped out like I feared I would. My only real problem has been migraines that come and stay as they please. Hopefully this is a sign of an easy going baby!

So what's next for us in the coming months? We decided to move, 6 months before our big move to Hawaii, so I a lot of packing and decluttering to get done. That will be nice when it comes to the "nesting" phase, but for now I have no idea where to start! We will also be starting the preparations for the big move, I'm sure. Paperwork, meetings, and relying on the military to get all of our things to us in a hopefully timely manner. Not sure I can handle another 6 months of waiting like our last move! Toby will be attending various classes and working away, it always seems they're busier during the summer months, and I will be holding down the fort! Jack will be soaking up the sun and start getting used to the idea of being big brother instead of only child, so let's all hope for a smoother transition there! 

Overall it should be a fairly hectic summer, but I say bring it on! Just that much closer to meeting our newest addition once it's over.