I’ve said it before, readers. I have amazing friends. They’re wonderful people – kind, generous, funny, thoughtful – and they carry with them some mind-blowing talents. They could take over the world.
It was one of these friends who came to visit at the end of March and brought along with her a myriad of Stuff to turn my kitchen into a traveling photo studio. Emilee was beyond patient that day, shooting my transition babies who were too alert for normal newborn status yet not developed enough for 3-month status. Her patience knows no bounds, nor does her talent. Emilee was able to capture a bunch of stunning images that day that made me cry like a newborn.
If you’re looking for a photographer in/around Raleigh, NC, consider this a poke in the butt to consider Emilee Beth Photography.
I’ll let her work speak for itself.
Those little heart stickies with wires? Those are the monitor leads the babies had on at the end of their NICU stay. We dressed them in their outfits to come home before they could be unplugged, so when it came time to unplug and leave, rather than undressing the babies, we unplugged, tied the wires and tucked them inside their outfits. When Rob changed their diapers at home, he unstuck the leads from their chests and stuck them to the wall above the changing table. They are still there today, serving as a constant, sweet reminder of the early days.
I’ve been itching to share these adorable onesies the babies received from Amber, who owns a local boutique. Ridiculously cute, right? The letters are fabric appliques, and the prints are just perfect for the trio. Sadly, they’ve just about grown out of them. (I tried and tried to get a pic of all three wearing these multiple times, but someone always had no patience for a group photo or spit up all over herself before I could get anything decent. Bah!) Luckily, the girls still have cute headbands from Amber they have yet to grow out of.
Thank you, Emilee and Amber!
Emilee Beth Photography retains copyright on all images. She also shared a couple different images on her blog.
Just in the last couple days, we’ve started catching the babies looking more and more at each other with the occasional smile/coo/babble. Today, I was on the ball and got two short videos of Toby and Eleanor to remember their first days noticing each other. Enjoy!
(That’s Toby on the left and Eleanor on the right.)
The weather couldn’t have been more perfect.
The company was more than I could have hoped for.
And at the center of it all, three BIG inspirations brought us together (l-r, Eleanor, Callista, Tobias).
Thank you to all who walked with us – in Charlotte, Raleigh and in cities across the country. Thank you to all who donated your money, resources and products. Thank you to all who shared our efforts in social media and IRL. Your support has been breathtaking.
Our team has currently raised (you can still donate!) $11,714 that will help future mommies and babies. WOW!
Next year, let’s have more walkers, raise more money and maybe add in our own Peanut Butter Jelly Time mascot. Does anyone have a banana costume we can borrow? 😉
Photos are courtesy of the amazingly talented Emilee Beth.
What? It’s totally a real holiday.
There is a lot going on in the world right now. The Southeast is starting to pick up the scraps left behind by vicious tornadoes and storms, women are swooning and snarking over the royal wedding.
My thoughts and prayers are with the storm victims and my eyes are giving sideways glances at wedding coverage, but my main focus is on an endeavor I embarked upon the first week of this year.
I sat at my trio’s bedsides, watching their monitors and listening to the sounds of the NICU around us. The sink where NICU visitors wash their hands upon entering the unit has a March of Dimes poster next to it. I’d read through it several times and always said a quick thank-you prayer for all MoD has done for babies like mine.
Next to the sink is also a coin commemorating the NICU’s participation in last year’s March for Babies.
After fighting with the nobody-likes-me-or-my-ideas that’s haunted me since middle school (ew), I got over myself and asked three of my closest friends if they’d be interested in walking with us. April 30 seemed like forever away, and I had no clue what our status would be then. Now. I was afraid of starting something we couldn’t finish, that something would get in the way and keep us home, unable to join in the fun.
My friends were more than enthusiastic. After some discussion over semantics, they started building our multi-city team. E-mails, phone calls, play-date announcements fed the fuel that ignited what’s now become a raging inferno. Team Peanut Butter Jelly Time had an initial goal of … $2,000? That seems tiny, but I think that’s where we started.
We passed it in the blink of an eye, so we raised our goal.
Passed. We raised it again.
Passed.
Then the March of Dimes folks challenged us to raise $10,000. I’ll be honest. I didn’t think we’d make it in time.
We did. YOU did.
We are so lucky to have a passionate group of friends who have made our team a wild success. Their drive and generosity that inspired so many of their friends, families and coworkers to donate is nothing short of inspiring.
And to think Tobias, Eleanor and Callista are at the center of our team, living proof of why we’re raising money for March of Dimes – it takes my breath away.
My babies are helping others like them. They’re 5 months old, and they’re already giving back to their community.
Amazing.
We’re so thankful for March of Dimes. We’re thankful for all who have contributed to our team these past few months.
Tomorrow we’ll wear our Peanut Butter Jelly Time T-shirts with pride and celebrate our three March of Dimes miracles with a huge group of people celebrating their own miracles.
I’m getting all weepy writing this, and I’m sure I’ll be weepy more than once at tomorrow’s event, but I don’t care.
It’s for the babies!
Still want to donate? Please do! Click on the March for Babies box below to make your online contribution. Just $1 makes a difference.
A friend recently asked for advice on coping with a less-than-perfect birth experience. I responded, in part, with the following. I’m sharing what I had to say in case you are wondering something similar about your own experience – just in case these words between friends will help you feel less alone.
I can’t think about when my babies were born. Not without feeling terribly, at least. I can’t see the stains on my carpet from when my membranes ruptured. I can’t pick up the pajama I was wearing that morning. They were washed by my mom but are still stained. I saw them the day I got home, and I tossed them in a corner of my closet. They’ve remained there. I can’t touch them. I couldn’t touch the brown paper bag carrying the clothes I wore to the hospital. Rob finally moved them from our bathroom. For a while, I couldn’t be in our bathroom without visualizing the blood on the floors, the doorway, the sink, the light switch.
I close my eyes and relive the fear, the horror, the feeling of complete failure and guilt. I have no happy memories of their birth. I can’t connect their birth with their happy outcome. I think that’s my problem. If I could connect the two and follow the line from Point A – the morning they were born – to Point B – the day they came home healthy and happy – I think I’d be able to think about their birth with a smile.
It was, after all, the day I met my future.
But I’m not there yet. I’m not sure I will be. The outcome hasn’t yet healed the memory of that morning. Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t.
I’m not holding my breath.
I don’t have a happy birth memory, but I do have a countless number of happy memories since that day. That’s what I focus on. That’s what I close my eyes and recall.
I don’t plan to ever give birth again. I won’t have a happy birth story to think back on. For me, birth is something terrifying – a living nightmare. That’s just how it’s going to be, end of story. It’s the hand I was dealt, and I have to live with it.
So I don’t think about it. Or, I try not to. And when I do, I force myself to switch gears and think about the three little people who are alive and thriving, unaware of the nightmare I endured to get them here.
I talked with Rob about this last night, and he pointed out that I would have gladly given a limb to ensure my babies’ safety. Essentially, I gave up that happy birth story so they could live. Things could have ended differently. My body could have not gone into labor, letting me know Eleanor (whose membranes had ruptured) needed to come out.
That is a nightmare I refuse to fathom. I’ll take a shitty birth experience over that any day.
So how do I cope? I don’t. I have given up on that. It sucked, but it is what it is. A happy birth experience would have been nice, it isn’t essential to our lives.
