Gradumacation Day

After nearly 8 years working at LSU - selling the campus to potential students and working with its alumni - today, I feel like I’m officially joining the club. And it has been a long journey. I took my first Public Admin class in the spring semester of 2008. It was Seminar in Public Administration, back when Dr. White still taught it. I missed four classes (all due to work), somehow still made an A, and decided this was a program I could see myself enjoying. Six years and a few hiatuses later, I have finally made it through the 42 credit hours in 14 classes. 

I know I wouldn't have had a chance to make this happen without the support of my other half. She is the one who made the true sacrifices: working with me through the night classes, rushed research papers, and group meetings- even after Lily’s debut 3 years ago and wrangling two kids during the past two months. Rachel, for this, I wholeheartedly thank you my dear.

I also owe a huge thank you to my professors for their knowledge and inspiration as well as their willingness to share it. I know that I am a much more informed and engaged citizen because of the understanding I have gained and the experiences I endured. I know so much more about bureaucracy and what it means to be a true public servant. Not a politician, mind you, but someone genuinely concerned with making a difference in the day-to-day lives of the average citizen. I also now know that a grade of 89.88% is a not an A, no matter how bad you want it to round up. Numbers are objective and care not what side of the line they fall upon, and that’s really what makes them so wonderfully terrible. And as fate would have it, that B would be the only one I made in grad school. Lessons are learned holistically in PADM.

    

Make no mistake, now that I am an “authentic” Tiger, it doesn't change a thing about how I feel about LA Tech. It will always be my first love. It gave me the knowledge and the foundation to get me where I am today and without a shred of doubt I feel like I've been a part of the best Louisiana has to offer in higher education. English majors can make it in this world!

Anyway, time to walk across the stage and grab that coveted piece of paper that represents countless hours of reading books and journal articles, writing policy analyses, crunching CAFRs, listening to guest lecturers, and correlating data sets.  Fun fact: I have never once sang the LSU Alma mater, not at a football game or even hummed along with the memorial tower at noon. Today, I feel like I might give it a shot. 

I am beautiful.

Eight weeks ago, I had a baby. I gained 30-ish pounds during pregnancy and am currently six pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight. In the comfort of my own home, I deem this a huge success. I'm not really dieting or cursing the scale. I'm actually proud of myself and how rockin' my bod looks in my yoga pants and t-shirts. Thanks to nursing, I have a pretty nice rack and my husband tells me I'm beautiful daily...and in our happy house...I believe him.

But then I go out in public...

I mean, did my post-baby bump and muffin top wait until I was out of the drive way to pop out of my too-tight pants? And on that note, I swear these pants fit at home!

The real world is harsh and full of assholes. Not once, not twice, but THRICE I was asked last weekend when I was due. Um...eight weeks ago...jerk! Seriously, did your mother not raise you right? NEVER ask a woman when she is due. Unless you see a baby exiting her personal area, just keep your mouth shut. Sorry, I digress...

I left the house that day in a cute little dress ( that was NOT maternity, mind you)  with my hair and make up actually done. I felt good about myself and was thinking I was adorable and then BAM, confidence shattered by a stranger. This got me thinking..

Why do I let the opinions of others affect how I feel about my physical self?

For years I've let people joke that I'm frumpy. What an awful word that is...frumpy. At first it was funny...but suddenly, I started to believe them. I allowed the back-handed compliments, ignorant comments, and unsolicited workout/diet advice lead me to believe that there was something wrong with how I look.  I became incredibly self-conscious about my weight...hair...skin...even my wardrobe. But...why?

Truth be told, I'm not frumpy.

I don't dress like they do on Vogue but I'm far from "mom jeans".  Even six pounds from my goal weight, I'm no where near overweight. I might not have a glowing tan but I also won't have skin cancer. I look nothing like the stereo-typical beauties on magazines or movies...but honestly, I don't want to. That's not me.

I don't want to count calories and miss out on yummy foods in an effort to be skinny. I like pizza and tacos and beer...and carbs, basically I really like carbs. I also don't want to live in a gym because I don't have time for that. Don't get me wrong, I think moderation and a healthy lifestyle are important...but there is no secret to being healthy. Don't constantly eat crap and get off your tail every once in a while! No need to obsess about it...just live it. Good food should be enjoyed and exercise should be fun. The number on the scale is irrelevant. Whether "my style" is in-style is irrelevant. All I want is to be a healthy, happy ME....the best version of ME.

This attitude change isn't only for me. More importantly, I have an awesome little girl that is starting to watch and mimic my every move. If I let the world beat me down...odds are she will too. And I will not have that. I want her to know she is beautiful but not because she is attractive...but because she is kind and smart and caring and funny and sweet. Pretty is as pretty does. I don't want her to put value in what "the world" deems beautiful...so...I accept the challenge of leading by example. The opinions of others...no matter how loudly shared...are not important. It is time to stop obsessing about the facets of beauty that are irrelevant and start putting value on what really matters.

Am I healthy? Am I happy? Am I kind?

Then I am beautiful!

#iambeautiful

Lily takes a selfie

Up front I'll say I'm not a big fan of the word "selfie", but I cant think of a better way to describe the wondrous pictures that Lily has taken on my phone and iPad. Here are a few of the more enjoyable snapshots she has taken in the past few months. Enjoy:

 She hadn't figured out the flip camera button yet.

There we go.

Hand in the lens. 

Concentration city. 

 Gotta make sure her favorite book is documented for record keeping.

Bert.

Making sure the coast is clear. 

My personal favorite. 

Smile Harrison!

The Henrys aren't really "posed picture" people. Murphy's Law tends to make appearances on any picture day...and it did not fail for Harrison's newborn photo session. We decided to pack up the entire family to try for some of those adorable sibling pictures that Pinterest leads you to believe are possible. (liars, they are all liars!)

Harrison peed on Chris no less than 5 minutes after arrival and then proceeded to stay wide awake for most of the session. Precious sleeping newborn photos...not for the Henrys. Lily refused to smile or stay still for pictures while Harrison continued to pee on things. Thankfully, Rachel of Rachel Erin Photography was a super champ and managed to get some cute shots while not running for the hills! These are some of our favorites:

Thanks so much to Rachel Erin Photography for putting up with the Henrys! We were a hot mess express!

But...I love my family...goober faces and all!

That last picture melts my heart!

Ahoy Captain!

What a whirlwind these past few weeks have been! Being a family of four has been amazing and amazingly busy! I feel like this "maternity leave" has flown by much faster than it did with Lily and with this being my last week, I figured it was time to catch up on blogging while Harrison snoozes! To kick it off, please enjoy the story of how he arrived...

Harrison's Birth Story

One would assume that with this being my second pregnancy, I would know the difference between indigestion and labor...but no. In the month of February I thought I was going into labor no less than 20 times. I was so miserable and uncomfortable that with every kick, twist, or cramp I just knew that this was "it"...only to be faced with the reality that he wasn't evacuating anytime soon. An inner battle was starting to take over...should I stick with our birth plan of striving for a natural birth or should I selfishly ask to be induced to end this misery of pregnancy? When I waddled in to my 39 week appointment and was told I was still only 2 cms and it would probably be another week, the selfish side won. My doctor, the fabulous Dr. Dickerson, could see the disappointment and broached the topic of an induction. He assured me that it would be safe and that it was very likely that I could stick with my birth plan of a (semi) drug-free vaginal birth. Although this was the news I selfishly wanted to hear, I still reluctantly agreed. We scheduled for the following day and I left the appointment in tears. I'm pretty sure the nurse and everyone in the waiting room thought I was a crazy person! Although a decision had been made, the inner debate continued. My previous birth experience was proof that one medical intervention typically leads to another. Although a healthy, happy baby is all that matters, I was terrified of a cesarean birth. So, a couple hours (and sleeves of Oreos) later, I called and canceled. Despite being physically and mentally exhausted, I just couldn't get over the increased possibility of a cesarean birth. I wasn't even to my due date yet so I made the conscious decision to regroup in a week. This was on Thursday.

Friday came with all the wonders that Friday brings. I cleaned the house, did some laundry, repacked my hospital bag (for the 25th time), and basically just puttered the day away. Chris and Lily came home from work/school and we enjoyed a relaxing evening and hit the sack early....thank goodness. I was up at 2:30am for my second bathroom break when it happened. The infamous passing of the mucus plug and bloody show. If you aren't sure what these little wonders are, do not Google it. Trust me. They are what they sound like. Blerug! I excitedly jumped back in bed when the contractions hit. Now, I can hardly contain my excitement...finally, this is IT! With them being 20 minutes apart, I forced myself to relax and get some sleep. What would inevitably be proven again, is that my labors follow the mantra of "slow and steady wins the race". We were in for a long Saturday!

Reinforcements were called in and GranZee arrived to play with Lily...who was oblivious to everything happening! Oh the joys of being two! In addition to getting plenty of rest, another lesson learned from birth #1 was to eat for strength. So around 6:30pm, I took down some mac & cheese. Probably not a traditional choice but delicious nonetheless. At this point, contractions were 2-3 minutes apart and the decision was made...we packed up the car and said our goodbyes before heading to the hospital!

We arrived at Woman's Hospital around 7pm and went straight in for assessment. Thankfully the nurse checking me was very understanding and "normal" because when she told me that I was a solid 5cms my reaction was a little...uncouth. I basically shouted "F*** Yeah!". After everyone had a good laugh, we headed for labor and delivery in very high spirits! Not only was it happening...but it was progressing nicely, naturally, and in line with my (typed) birth plan!

Once we got settled in our labor and delivery suite, our amazing nurse came and talked to us about our expectations and desires. She was on board to support us through our natural birth plan but we set a code word, just in case. I hate bananas (gross) so that was our word to cue it was time for some meds. Our only hiccup was that Dr. Dickerson was not able to make it for the birth. While this was a little upsetting, he prepped us pretty well during all our appointments so I was confident that things could stay on track. So we continued on! I was fitted with the mobile monitors so I could walk around and change my position as the contractions grew stronger.

After a couple hours and really intense contractions, I was checked and to my horror I was still only 5 cms. I wasn't progressing and the baby's heart rate wasn't constant so the first medical intervention was made...the on-call doctor broke my water. After an insane amount of liquid gushed out of me, we waited for the contractions to speed up...but they didn't. The heart rate didn't change either so the second medical intervention was made...an internal fetal monitor was inserted and attached to the baby's scalp to more closely monitor his heart rate. This changed everything.

With this monitor I was glued to the bed and the hopes of delivering or even laboring in the birth tub went out the window. I had convinced myself that the only way I could survive a natural birth was with the help of the magical birth tub. When that possibility was off the table, so went my confidence. After a few intense contractions, I said banana and received the epidural around midnight. While this was not the plan, this was my opportunity to get some much needed rest. We turned down the lights and turned on the television for a distraction. Now, there is very little quality programming after midnight on a Saturday but we lucked out...Zoolander was on. Chris passed out and I enjoyed looks of Blue Steel between contractions. Unfortunately, all the rest and relaxation was having an adverse effect...the contractions were slowing down and the doctor suggested a dose of Pitocin. This decision was probably the most difficult for me but I kept my eye on the prize...a healthy, happy baby...and the fourth medical intervention was administered.

Contrary to popular belief, an epidural isn't the magic eraser of pain medication. While it does help numb everything south of the navel, you aren't completely ignorant to all feeling. I was still very aware of the contractions and they were getting much more intense...but on top of everything else, I felt the insane urge to...poop. Awesome. To my relief, I wasn't going to poop my pants...I was complete and ready to push! The hustle and bustle of getting the room prepped and ready happened, I pushed through one contraction, and our little bundle of joy arrived!

Despite the little set backs and detours from our birth plan, Harrison Reid Henry arrived perfectly healthy and happy on March 2 at 2:50am. I spent the next few hours nursing and snuggling with 8 pounds, 20.5 inches of absolute perfection.

Lily arrived around lunch to meet her little brother and it was...anticlimactic. We were prepared for an excited big sister or a scared little girl...but...she barely noticed him and just wanted to push all the buttons on the hospital bed. But, in true Lily style...she wasn't too please to take a family photo! But, we tried anyway!

Last Weekend as 3?

Eh, who knows. But, if it was our last weekend as a family of three...it was a pretty good one! We spent a good bit of time in the kitchen and had some really funny and great conversations with Lily. It's shocking how fast she is growing up...

We decided Saturday morning that cupcakes were on the agenda! Whether that was Lily's idea or mine...who knows...but it was so much fun! She is such a good helper...so we let her lick the spoon...and bowl...and whatever else had icing on it in the end! She ended up falling asleep at the table during dinner so her cupcake dessert had to wait until the next day...which she was fine with until we told her that she couldn't eat all 12 at once!

Dinner Saturday night was "special" as well. We decided to indulge in the Scalini's Eggplant Parm. Here is the deal...

I'm not one that thrives in pregnancy. I don't get a beautiful pregnancy glow or an adorable little bump. I get acne, pregnancy brain, torn muscles, heart burn, and other amazing ailments that I'll keep to myself! When I watch women in movies and TV shows enjoying every second of pregnancy...I roll my eyes and call bullshit. So being a little bitchy hormonal, I may or may not have complained a little...which has caused a few friends to send me the recipe for Scalini's Eggplant Parm. Legend has it that this specific recipe has put over 400 women into labor within 48 hours of eating it. So....since I hate pregnancy but LOVE motherhood, we decided that it couldn't hurt to give it a try. The recipe can be found at this link and here are some photos of what we did:

It had a little kick to it but was delicious! Even Lily loved it!

Now....whether it works or not...we'll just have to wait and see!