recap/review/recapiltulate...that last one's a really big word

August, August, August. What a blur of a month. We got a new little person, had a small fire, got a new blender, and I discovered the answer to world peace. That's quite a lot for 31 days.

I was soaking one night (miserably) in my bath of epsom salts when I stumbled (or more likely grumbled) upon a great idea. Trying to do good things for my torn and infected stitches, but also cautiously avoiding anything touching the breastaurant that is causing me unspeakable treacherous pain, I consider the postpartum stage. I reflect on my experiences in the last few years of engorgement, bloodied blistered nipples, mastitis, thrush, blebs, 700 stitches, infections, nights sweats, just to name a few. I am telling my Mom on the phone how I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy. Except Bin Laden. Then that gets me thinking. Yes, this is the answer. If we were to simulate the post part um experience and administer it to criminals instead of giving them a college education and amazingly ripped abdominals, I feel confident the crime rate would drop overnight. I don't imagine anyone being injected with mastitis and then hooked up to a breast pump every two hours (including all night), waddling around with a crotch full of stitches and pumped full of hormones would make the same mistake twice. I'm just sayin. It's a step toward world peace.

On a totally unrelated note, we won a drawing for a hundred dollar Visa card from our housing development. How very exciting. We had a fun day accepting the card and then went to Pier Park on Braden's last day of paternity leave and our first all-day family outing. By the time we arrived back at base all three girls were crying in the backseat. Braden and I looked at each other with wide eyes, laughed, and turned up the radio until we couldn't hear them anymore.

August 21st was our anniversary. Six big ones. To commemorate this most important day I bought Braden a kite. For years he has been talking about this great kite that he lost and how fun it would be to have another one. But somehow kites never top our financial needs list. So I thought I might take this chance to make his little dream come true. Because who doesn't like to be the one to make someones dream come true? Well I didn't order it in time for it to arrive on Saturday so I made him a kite card. You know, a piece of card stock cut out in the shape of a kite, complete with strings and four different patterns-all the essential elements of a kite card. It is adorned with pictures of us and the back is full of all the necessary mushiness that makes it not only a kite card, but an anniversary kite card, which we all know and recognize as the most special kind of kite card.

I give Braden the card.

His eyes dart to his watch. The date on his watch confirms it- today is in fact August 21st, our anniversary.

He feels terrible. He got his days confused.

He's explaining and apologizing and too embarrassed to really even look at the card. I am finishing getting ready to go to the store and really am not feeling terrible about it. Let's face it- I'm two weeks out from having a baby, which could mean one of two things: either the psycho hormones could suddenly override all rationale and reason and I could deduce from this experience that he has never really loved me at all, or it could be just as well because all things romantical could be the farthest thing from my list of desires and one less thing to get between me and taking a nap.


After a few minutes he asks me, "Where is my tie"?

"What tie"?

"The tie you made me"?

"That's a kite".

"That's a kite"?!

I laughed. And then I laughed some more.

And then I went to the store to get some groceries by myself (exciting in and of itself!).

Upon returning home I notice smoke coming from our house while driving up the street. At first I think he is grilling but then I notice it is coming from the side of the house. (rewind to earlier that morning: I told Braden not to throw away the trash in the office because it was full of boxes of blank checks and files of old banking and tax information. The banker in me who has seen identity theft numerous times cannot sleep knowing that this information could be available to trash men and trash diggers alike. Also, I realize that we are pretty cool and therefore are at a higher risk of having our identity stolen. Anyway Braden tells me that he will burn the checks and promises not to throw them away.)

Knowing this, the smoke does not startle me as I am expecting him to burn the checks. I take some groceries inside and go to the side of the house to see the smoke. Turns out the smoke is actually a pretty high blazin fire. I stand there a minute trying to figure out what he has used to start the fire on. I go find him (he has shut the garage door as soon as I pulled up trying to hide the wood project he was working on for me).

"That's quite a fire you got goin on out there champ".

"THERE'S A FIRE?!!"

He takes off running to see and grabs the hose. At first the fire just gets bigger but after a few minutes he gets it to go out.

"What did you use to start the fire on"?

"Julie! That was our trash can! I didn't start this fire. I mean, I didn't mean to".

Apparently he had burned the checks, sprayed them with the hose for a few minutes, and then put them in the trash can. I suppose there were still some embers somewhere.

Now this isn't just any old trash can. We were just issued this can by our housing development. As previously mentioned we have black bears roaming our neighborhood. The new cans are bear proof- they are heavy and have a big metal locking system to keep out the bears. Turns out they aren't cheap either- $250 duckets to be exact. Can we just return the gift card and only owe them $150? I will try to convince myself that we surely would have been the victims of identity theft and that this money is a small price to pay for not having our credit ruined and days in the social security office with my three littles. A small price to pay to still safely enjoy being the real Braden and Julie Reynolds.

In the mean time, they have given us an ordinary trash can, one that might be used in a location free of roaming fierce wildlife. The good thing about us is that unlike our neighbors, our trash can is not full of steak scraps and rib bones, but a weekly estimated average of 175 pounds of poo. Hopefully that will be all the bearproofing we need.









We went to Mexico Beach on our anniversary and watched the sun work its magic

Can we keep her?

Miss Maisy is two weeks old today.

I love, love, love to have a new baby.

Especially when that baby is the awesomest.

Things we have learned about her thus far:

-She is indeed Braden's child. We know this because the first night in the hospital Braden was holding her while she slept. All of a sudden he says in a loud excited whisper, "JULIE, SHE PUFFS!!". Braden does this funny thing as soon as he falls asleep where he puffs out little breaths like a baby train. His Dad does it too. And now he has his own baby puffer to carry on a quirky gene that I'm sure is cherished by all spouses trying to fall asleep at bedtime. (Okay, there are other ways we know she is his child too).

-She has long toes. Wait let me say that again. She has seriously loooooong toes. The first night I was sure if I fell asleep I would awaken to her hanging from a light fixture- that is the level of monkiness that her feet possess.

-She is a good eater. I had a baby that knows how to eat. Yea for me!

-The above should also directly imply what is explicitly true: she poops like it's her job. She is officially the poopsmith. I have never changed so many diapers in my life. Note to Maisey- the tree in the backyard should at no time be mistaken as one that produces diapers at will.

-She loves a warm bath and a head massage. Does not however value nudity like her sisters. She really only cries when she is naked. That might have something to do with the fact that she is a girl with back hair, that can't be easy.

If I had to make a onesie for her it would say, "Don't mind me, just happy to be here". She is content and cute and soft and a bit furry. She's a solid pick for a 3am hang out buddy.

The girls have totally accepted her into their club. The rules of the club seem simple: run around naked and screech constantly like wild Indians. At this point they just run around her in cirles screaming that she is awake and they see her eyeballs. They try to include her in as many of their activities as possible. This morning I caught Anabelle "fishing". This involved standing over Maisey with a wood toy fishing pole and dropping the end into her mouth to see if she could catch a sister. Maisey fell for the bait every time.

I think it helped Lila that she did in fact come out with a floppy ear folded in half, very fuzzy, and she will lick anything that comes near her mouth. Things might get ugly when Lila realizes that Maisey is actually not a puppy.

Anabelle gets very frustrated that I am the only one that gets to feed her. This is highly frustrating to me as well. Anabelle begged to feed her the other day and I told her that she couldn't.

"Pa-leeeeease Mom, I drink LOTS of milk".

"I know you do honey, but you don't have boobies"

Near tears, in desperation she pleads, "I know, but I have nipples! She can suck on whatever I have!"

It was just so darn sweet. If only she had any idea what she was asking for. I feel confident the babies in her room would be immediately stored in the winter hat box if she knew what it felt like.

The first thing Lila does in the morning is run to my room and look in Maisey's bed. I mean her swing. I mean her swing that we use for a bed. She loves to hang out with Maisey and she particularly likes to play with (read pull) her hair. Not in a malicious way. Maybe it's just sort of an exploratory way, a mild case of hair envy.

Braden and I are already calling them the wrong names. He decided that if ever we yell "Li-Ma-Bell" all girls are to report to us immediately.

Also, it's astonishing how heavy Lila has become in the last two weeks.

Maisy is a content little sweetheart and has brought such a special love to our house.

The birth story

Thursday, August 5th

I woke up at 4am. Wide awake and feeling good. You know, as good as you can possibly feel when there is a whole other person living inside your guts. I wait until the sun comes out and then walk a few miles. Angi calls from Istanbul while I am walking. I don't realize it until after, but I need this phone call. She is thinking about me and wondering how I am. It makes me feel good to know that she is caring about my new baby. I come home from my walk feeling happier. My neighbor brings her baby over for me to watch for a few hours. Once she leaves, the contractions start. I soon recognize that these are different. Not sure how, I just know, as I have known both times before, that she is coming. I play with all the kids in the playroom until my neighbor comes back. I go about my morning activities as usual, trying to prepare the house. Of course this is the day that my childcare option has left town. I call Heather, a friend stationed in Pensacola three hours away to see if she can come. Her husband has the car and won't be back until seven. I lay down on the bed and stop worrying about it, because either way, this little girl is on her way and I will figure out what to do with the girls when it gets closer. I know I have a long day of labor ahead of me. I send Braden a text to let him know that he should plan on staying when he comes home for lunch. I take a shower and put on my most comfortable clothes. About the time Braden comes home from work I decide I want to lay down and be as mentally relaxed as possible. Braden feeds the girls and puts them in bed. Heather calls- she has worked out the car situation and she is on her way.

I spend the next few hours laying down as the contractions grow in intensity. I think about good memories with Braden: walking in the fall and crunching leaves as we got to know each other, Sundays living in Provo, the waterfalls in the Blue Ridge mountains, building fires in our basement apartment. I picture us standing at the throat of Iguazu Falls on the Argentine side and remember how overwhelming it was to watch the water pour over the side. So powerful and majestic. I keep this mental picture in my head and keep thinking of it as the contractions come. I imagine that they are doing the same thing with the baby- pushing her down. It is getting harder so I ask Braden to give me a blessing before I slip into the non responsive, fiercely focused stage of labor that I know is coming soon.

The girls are upstairs sleeping and the house is silent. I sit up on the bed. He blesses me to know that she is excited and anxious to come to our family. I have been told this in a blessing before and I can feel it. He blesses me to know of her great potential and capacity, that she has things to do here. He tells me that she is healthy. This makes me cry. I am so relieved not to worry about her. I am being my strongest because I know what is coming and it is hard. The blessing makes me feel better and I know that I can do this.

Heather arrives. She and Braden are playing with the girls. Braden and Anabelle build a little wood project together and everyone sounds happy. I go upstairs because I can't be still through them anymore. It helps me to have already been through this so I can gauge the pain and guess how far I am. I know I am making progress. I close the office door and sit in the chair to rock and listen to the playlist I have made for labor. I have my headphones on and listen to Alison Krauss's "A Living Prayer" over and over. There are only 5 or 6 songs on my list- songs that bring either sweet memories of our family and life together or a hopeful vision of our future. I lose concept of time. I have no idea how long I spend doing this but it is working. I am rocking and breathing through the contractions. Braden comes to check on me. He brings ice chips which I need because I am out of breath after each one. He stands behind me and plays with my hair for a while. After watching me a minute, and having seen me do this before, he recognizes that it is probably time to go. I agree. I want him to put these songs on his ipod because I don't think I can do it without them. I tell him to buy them- I don't care what it costs. I'm on the floor rocking through them. Lila comes and lays on the floor under my face to play peek a boo with me. Braden can't get the music to download and I realize how fast things are getting worse. It's okay- we have to go. I kiss and hug the girls. I try to walk downstairs but have to drop to the floor and rock each time I get one. I make it downstairs and the thought of sitting in the car for 30 minutes is unbearable- I know that isn't an option. I ask Braden to make me a bed in the back of the Durango. "Now?" he asks. "NOW" I say. I rock on the floor while he does this. I ask him to get me some ice packs and the new primary cd from Megan and he helps me to the car.

I can tell that he is speeding, especially for driving on base. The ice packs help and the music saves me. It helps me think past the pain and focus on what I'm doing. I know that this little girl has important things to do here, I feel of her potential for good and of her happy personality. I know that I am her way here. I think of myself as I giver of life. This is what I was made for, this is what makes my body so amazing. I read somewhere that childbirth is where for a moment, the heavens open up and you get to be a literal portal of life, bringing a person to earth. I like this visual and think of myself this way, it is powerful for me. I start to make noises through each one, not consciously, I just can't help it. Primal sort of noises. Braden is swerving and honking and cutting people off. It makes me happy to know that he is loving this part. It is 5:30 rush hour traffic and it is taking a long time to get there. We pull up to a stop light and he rolls down his window to tell the person that I am in labor and to let him pull in front when the light turns green. The person happens to be Brittany Miller, a girl I met through girls camp in Alabama. I lift my head and wave. What are the chances?

Finally we get to the hospital and Braden pulls up and helps me out. He leaves the car running and walks me in. I have to stop several times to lean on something and rock. We get to the desk at labor and delivery and they recognize which stage I'm in. "She's doing the dance". They ask when labor started. 8 am. Now it is 6:01 pm. They tell me I look great for having been in labor all day. I don't think I ever said thank you. Braden says he will go move the car but they tell him not to leave me. Security will move it. We make our way to a room, slowly, stopping several times to get through one. A couple passes us and tells us congratulations. We get to the room and the nurse gives us a gown. I take off my clothes with the door wide open. Modesty is officially gone. I don't care who sees what. I put the gown on and grab the wall. She checks me in between contractions- six and a half. I am okay with that. I know that I will move faster now. She puts the monitor on me and I lean on the sink and rock through each one. Braden is rubbing my back and it helps immensely. I am getting louder now. Not screaming or yelling or crying, just louder. I have to. She tries to put an IV in me and I tell her no. She asks a million health history questions that I already answered on paperwork before. What was the point of pre-registering I wonder? The doctor comes in to meet me. I glance up at him but ignore his conversation. He is older and seems jolly but he is breaking my concentration. I hear him talking to Braden about where we're from. Each one is very hard to get through. Braden gets a text in the middle of one and stops rubbing to look at it. He was just making sure it wasn't Heather. I snap at him that he better not read a text right now. I can't bear it without him rubbing my back and legs. The nurse checks me- I'm at 8 cm. She says when my water breaks it will go faster. "Break it!". She gets the doctor. He asks if I want him to, telling me that it will go much faster after its broken. "Break it!". At this point I just want it to be over. Although I know the worst part is just ahead I need it to happen so I can end this. He breaks it and I get up again and lean over the sink. I ask Braden to go to the car and get the camera. He runs and I ask the nurse to rub me while he is gone. My body starts to groan and push the baby out without me trying. The nurse is getting nervous and asks me if I need to push. She keeps telling me to go to the bed if I need to push. I know that it is close but not yet. A few more contractions like these and I know that it's time. I go to the bed and push with my next contraction. I push again and Braden yells at me that she has hair. Her head is out and I want them to just pull her out. But they tell me to push long and hard. I do this two more times and out she comes.

Born at exactly 7:00, weighing 7.77 lbs, 19 and a quarter long, she was perfectly pink and healthy.

The nurse hands her to me. She is warm and wet and gooey and she smells good for some reason. I love that she comes straight to my arms. She does have hair. Lots of it, and it is dark! Braden asks if she is his baby. I say if he wants his paternity leave next week he should investigate that later. The doctor stitches me up and shakes my hand and tells me that he is impressed, that I am tough, and that I sure know how to have a baby. A room full of nurses agree and I am shocked to know that all those people were there watching. I had my eyes closed the whole time and did not open them until she was in my arms. Braden kisses my very sweaty head and we are elated at our healthy baby girl.

A few hours later, in the middle of the night when it is just she and I awake in my bed, we stare at each other. And I fall in love with her. Absolutely, completely, and totally in love with her. I think of all the sickness and trials of pregnancy and know that I would do it all again for her. My heart could not feel any fuller for all the love I feel.

We like names that are not made up but also not common. I have a sense that she is vivacious. We think Maisey fits her. Maisey Virginia Reynolds. Virginia after Braden's paternal grandma and also after the state where we fell in love and want to return.

Meet Maisey.






fresh from the oven

it's over, it's over, it's over, it's over, it's over, it's over, it's over

first hawk by Dad. there have already been many more.


2 hours old

a proud dad with tired arms


let the poking and exploring begin

the moment Anabelle has been waiting for the entire year

the girls meet Maisey

Lila enjoying my breakfast

She came, she came!!

Our third baby girl was born Thursday, August 5th at exactly 7pm. She weighed 7.77 pounds (lucky sevens? can't wait to see what this girl will do for me in Vegas).

Mother and baby are doing well.

Man, that felt good to say.

Although, it's not very accurate.

Mother is so happy. So very, very happy.

If you build it, she will come

I built some birthday brownies for the birthday girl. You know, the girl that should be birthed today. I mean, would you show up to a party that had nothing scrumptious to eat? I wouldn't either. It worked on Field of Dreams.

-Dresser sanded and painted: check

-Enough teensy tiny girly clothes washed and stacked to produce 3 dryer trays fulls of PINK lint: check

-Bag packed, camera charged: check

-Child care during labor: check, but only if it happens today. My best option leaves on a trip tomorrow. Yikes!

Yesterday was the first day I actually wanted to go into labor. Although I am still a few days ahead of my due date the doctor has been hassling me because I am trying to do another VBAC. He is anxious to induce and if nothing happens by the weekend they will send me to the butcher. That just can't happen. Not an option. So I decided to actually get prepared to see if that helps. If you clean/cook/pack/wash/sand/paint it, she will come?......It worked for Kevin Costner, why not give it a whirl.

I hate that I am in a rush to have the baby for child care purposes. I would rather just let things happen as they happen. I love this point of pregnancy for the simple reason that every day when you wake up you wonder, "Am I going to have a baby today? Or just do a bunch of laundry and make cool stuff out of Play-Doh?" It's the most exciting thing in the world to anticipate and I thoroughly enjoy it.

Today will be full of all bouncy activities. That way I will be fully exhausted when labor does start.

Come on out little girl. The sisters await you with GREAT anxiety, one in particular. Lila will like you best if you're fuzzy and have big floppy ears and a moist nose. Anabelle is waiting to babysit you. She helped wash and fold all your clothes with great dramatic gasps of "Oh! Isn't this adorable!? Oh my gosh, this onesie is SO darling!"

You know when you get emails or texts from people and it gives the baby's name and vital birth stats and then says "...mother and baby doing well" and then you don't hear anything from them for awhile?

That's the plan this time. Third times a charm. ARE YOU HEARING THIS LITTLE GIRL? No tricks, no gimmicks, just come on home. I promise to keep you elevated as much as possible from small poking/prodding/drumming sticky fingers.

Red rover, red rover send Diamond Gold right over.

(And I promise not to really name you that).

SOOOOOOOOOo excited to meet you......