Game Show Inspo: What's in a Name?

They say that a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.  And maybe they're right.  But when it came to our baby girl, the name was very important.  Maybe that's why it took the husband and me so long to pick one.  Oh, we each had our favorites, lobbying hard for the admittedly sometimes ludicrous front runners.  But it wasn't until we were watching Wheel of Fortune (why, I don't know, except that it follows Jeopardy!) and heard a contestant introduced as Charlotte that we looked at each other and knew.  Feminine and timeless, Charlotte had just the right ring.  What's more, our girl would be in good pop culture company.  After all, there was Charlotte from Sex and the City, Charlotte's Web, Charlotte Brontë, and last but certainly not least, Good Charlotte.  As for Rose, it just seemed to flow.  Also, there are a lot of Roses in my family.  Not to mention The Golden Girls' Rose Nylund.

So, Charlotte Rose, if you someday find yourself singing along to "Lifestyles of the Rich and the Famous," reading Jane Eyre, rescuing spiders, and/or debating whether to be on Team Mr. Big or Team Aiden, then Daddy and I will know that we've done our duty.

Just as if you unironically watch Wheel of Fortune, we'll wonder where we went wrong.

Stars Above and Last Chance Love: Friends and Lovers and Mothers

It usually takes me two days to read a book, but now that I'm a new mom, it took me two weeks to read The Magic of Found Objects by Maddie Dawson.  You may recall that this is the novel I started reading while in the hospital.  Even then, when my focus was elsewhere, I knew it'd be good.  Yet once I was home, I didn't think I'd have time to get back to it.  Although the husband gallantly took on the night shift with Charlotte, my days were (and are) filled with feedings, diaper changes, and taking pics of our little Char Bar.  (To be fair, the husband's usually right there beside me despite my efforts to get him to nap.)  But gradually, I realized that I could squeeze in a chapter here and there.  And then I got the bright idea to read when Charlotte is snuggled next to me.  When the husband first saw us like that, he referred to her as my little reading buddy.  

So, The Magic of Found Objects.  It's the story of the fancifully named Phronsie and her quest for love as she untangles her complicated relationship with her mother.  Once upon a time at Woodstock, hippie artist Tenaj (which is just Janet spelled backwards) bewitched straight-arrow farmer Robert.  The result was the free-spirited Phronsie and her painfully prosaic twin brother Hendrix (and yes, he's named for Jimi).  Tenaj and Robert called it quits after just two years, and the twins stayed on the farm with their father.  They didn't see their mother again until they were six, and even then they remained semi-estranged.  This was especially hard on Phronsie. 

Now Phronsie's a New York City publicist in her mid-thirties who's ready for marriage and children.  So when her bestie Judd, whom she's known since kindergarten, proposes, she jumps at the chance.  Who needs romance when you've got a sure thing?  At least that's what Phronsie and Judd tell each other -- and themselves.  But then the universe brings Phronsie a gnome-collecting surfer dude, and despite her engagement, she finds herself hopelessly smitten.  Suddenly, she's torn between her head and her heart, desire and duty -- the very opposites that destroyed her parents.

Dawson paints Phronsie's world as enchanted, a not-quite-grown-up and sometimes sad fairy tale.  Yet despite my love for this bittersweet, quirky yarn, one thing I couldn't quite reconcile was Tenaj leaving her babies.  That part made me ache.

My reading rate may have slowed since becoming a mom.  But my emotional response has only grown stronger.

Special Delivery: Baby Girl Blooms

On Thursday, June 6, I got up at 3:30 a.m. to pee.  When I finished, I looked down at the bathroom floor and was surprised to find it covered in water.  At first, I thought the toilet had overflown.  But then I realized that what had overflown was me.

My water had broken.

I was strangely calm as I shouted to tell the husband.  Then, still gushing, I threw on the leggings, T-shirt dress, and flip flops I'd set out and dialed my OB-GYN.  The doc on call asked if I was having contractions.  I said I wasn't.  She responded that I could "labor at home" for the time being.  Um, no.  I was coming in.

The husband dumped our bags into the car, and off we went into the night.  It was all so surreal.  The evening before, I'd called the hospital to get my induction time for the next day, and they said they didn't have one yet and would call me when a slot opened up.  Which had made me angry and anxious.  There I was, gearing up for the biggest, scariest thing I'd ever have to do, and they weren't sure they had a bed?!

Clearly, baby girl had other ideas.  One way or another, she was making her debut.

An hour later, I checked into the eerily quiet hospital.  Still, by the way, gushing, which would continue until I delivered.  The husband was there the whole time, and then my parents arrived, and my mom was there, too.

When they did bloodwork, I opened my trusty book, this time The Magic of Found Objects by Maddie Dawson.  The nurse said, "I've never seen a woman in labor read," and I muttered that I needed the distraction while my mom replied, "Oh, she's a big reader from way back."

I still couldn't feel any contractions, although they said I was having them.  They moved me to my room and gave me Pitocin to speed things up.  Once I started feeling a little pain, I asked the husband to fire up my playlist, which was '80s and '90s tunes.  I stood it as long as I could (the pain, not the music, which was, Cars pun intended, "just what I needed"), then thought maybe it was time for the epidural.  When I wondered if it was too soon, the husband said, no, go for it.  So I did, reading again as the anesthesiologist inserted the needle.

Before long, I was feeling no pain but could still move my legs, which I learned was rare.  It seemed I'd gotten the Cadillac of epidurals.  

Things went on like this until a bunch of nurses appeared.  Baby girl had dropped very quickly, I was almost completely dilated, and my doc was in the OR.  I also started violently shivering, which scared me.  But the nurses said it was a normal hormonal response.

Then my doctor appeared and it was time to push.  He instructed me to grab my legs and was surprised when I was able to do it.  (Like I said, Cadillac of epidurals.)  Then he told me how to push, and suddenly, I was doing it.  And guess what?  It didn't even hurt!  I'm told this went on for about an hour and a half, but it felt much shorter.  Then my doc, who was phenomenal, said just a few more pushes, and there she was!  The nurse laid her on my chest, covered in white stuff that I now know is vernix.  And I said, in wonder, "She's here!"

Charlotte Rose Johnson entered the world at 2:40 p.m.  She weighed 5 lbs. and 5.7 oz. and measured 19 in.  She has my hair and size (I was 5 lbs. and 9 oz.) and the husband's face, including his big blue eyes.  I'm told she pooped upon arrival. 

Way to make an entrance, kid.

I'm so incredibly grateful that Charlotte was born in the best way possible and is safe and healthy.  I worried about all of that for so long, so I truly feel that someone was watching over us.

Not that there wasn't or isn't hard stuff.  I was a little shell-shocked when I realized that I had to feed and change her from go and had no idea how to do either.  The night nurses would give me reports about her spitting up with stern warnings about choking hazards.  That first night, I just held her as she slept, terrified that something would happen to her if I didn't.  I know it sounds crazy, but at one point she smiled at me, as if to say she was okay.

Most of the nurses also told me that I didn't look so good and was very pale.  One even tested my hemoglobin levels only to begrudgingly admit they were fine.  I wanted to say, yes, it was an easy delivery, but I still just gave birth!  When I vented to my mom, she told me to take a shower, put on my pajamas, and do my makeup to show them who I really was.  So I spruced myself up.  And when the nurse who'd tested my hemoglobin came back, she said that I looked great and no longer needed the IV.  And that's when I realized that life continues to be a series of tests, endlessly pushing you to prove yourself.  I'd done it so many times in so many situations, and now I'd done it again, convincing those Nurse Ratcheds that I was okay.

Speaking of being okay, I wouldn't be if I didn't have the husband.  He's amazing with Charlotte, and I melt when I watch them together.  He instinctively knows how to angle a bottle and elicit a burp (Charlotte's a reluctant burper) and calm her down when she's fussy.  Of course, he knows how to calm me down too, which is worth its weight in the expensive cabbage cream I'm using to dry up my milk.  My specialty?  Changing diapers!  It was the thing I obsessed over the most, but it turns out that my meticulous nature means I'm good at eradicating every stray spot of poo.  On a less gross note, I love to sing to Charlotte (The Golden Girls theme song has recently entered the rotation) and tell her all about our family and house and the fun things we'll do someday.

She's an angel of a little girl, just like it says in the poem I hung in her room:

Charlotte Rose, you're meant to be,

Our little miracle baby.

Charlotte Rose, how sweet you are,

Our gift from God, our shining star.

I'm not usually one to drag God into things, but this time it felt right.

So now we're on an adventure, our little family of three, Charlotte and the husband and me.  And it makes me happier than I ever thought I could be.  

Yep, I can't seem to stop rhyming.  Nevertheless, I'll be blogging less, at least for a while.  Keeping a human alive is exhausting, even when she's the sweetest human ever and the husband's down in the trenches with me.  

So until next time, I wish you the best of luck on your adventures, wherever they may take you.

And one day Charlotte Rose and I will be back to read all about them.       

Berries and Baubles: The Final Countdown

Sparkly Sky Necklace

Top: FCUK by French Connection for Sears

Bag: Amazon

Headband: INC, Macy's

Selfie Saturday with Geoffrey at Macy's.

Clip: Wild Fable, Target

Necklaces: Betsey Johnson

Top: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Bag: Zulily; Top and clip: Marshalls

Tomorrow is D-Day.  "D" as in "delivery."  But also as in the actual D-Day, i.e., the World War II one.  Hopefully, mine won't be as violent.  

That means it's time to post my last pregnancy pics.  Also, a shot of the last book I read, Jenn McKinlay's Strawberried Alive.  A somewhat grittier-than-usual cozy, it's about a serial killer bumping off small business owners as well as, of course, strawberry cupcakes.  That said, I have four paperbacks stashed in my hospital bag, two romcoms and two mysteries.  I'm not naïve enough to think that I'll be able to read them, but I feel better just knowing they're there.

It's a weird feeling, this hurry-up-and-wait for the most important day of my life.  But I take comfort in knowing that countless women have felt the same way, and that most of them -- unlike those soldiers -- lived to tell the tale. 

So I don't think there's anything left to say except this:

See you on the other side. 

A Wren in the Nest and a Wild West Quest

Dress: Lily Rose, Kohl's

Sunset Fete Necklace

Bow: Carole, JCPenney

Top: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's; Skirt (a dress!) O'Neill, Macy's

Prickly Princess Necklace

Sunglasses: Wild Fable, Target

Clip: Wild Fable, Target

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Print: Michaels

Top: Amazon

Garden Gander Necklace

Bow: Ella and Elly, Zulily

Bag: Laurel Burch, Boscov's

As baby girl's debut draws near, the husband's been deep in deep cleaning.  It's his brand of nesting.  Mine is organizing her closet, my closet, and hand-shredding ten years of tax returns.  That and literally being the nest.  Also reading and sleeping and writing these posts.  Because once our tiny human arrives, my only priority will be keeping her alive. 

That said, here are some southwestern-themed necklaces I made recently and the outfits (above) I wore with them:   

The fits are from before it got hot -- and before I precariously painted my toenails.  Until now, I never understood those jokes about pregnant women not being able to reach their feet.  Still, contorting myself into a pretzel in the name of sandal season was worth it.  Sweaty socks are no way to prepare for a child.

Or vicariously traverse a desert. 

Fantasy vs. Reality: A Date With DNA Destiny

"She blinded me with science!" could be the tagline for these two Christina Lauren romcoms.  Because The Soulmate Equation and The True Love Experiment ask the age-old question: "Is there a science to love?"  As in, is romance all hearts and flowers?  Or also why hearts beat and flowers grow? 

In The Soulmate Equation, down-on-her-luck single mom and freelance statistician Jessica Davis is done with love.  Her deadbeat baby daddy and absentee mom have convinced her that there are no happy endings, and all she wants is to give her daughter, Juno, the best life possible.  So when she crosses paths with a gorgeous man at her local coffee shop, she doesn't pursue him.  At least not until her bestie Fizzy insists.  Because Americano, as Jess affectionately-not-so-affectionately calls him, isn't any old hottie.  He's a brilliant scientist who created a dating app that matches people based on their DNA.  Jess can't deny that the scientist in her isn't intrigued.  In a moment of weakness, she signs up for the app only to discover that she and the good doctor are a Diamond Match, the highest the company's ever seen.  What follows is a PR campaign designed to show the world that Jess and Dr. River Peña (that's his real name) are a soulmate success story.  The gig pays Jess's bills, which is a huge relief, and ends up being surprisingly fun.  But giving interviews and flirting with River is one thing.  Giving her heart away is another.         

In The True Love Experiment, Felicity "Fizzy" Chen gets her chance at love.  The bestselling romance novelist has hit a slump in her own usually red-hot love life.  After being burned by a relationship with an unbeknownst-to-her-married man, Fizzy's zest for life has, well, fizzled.  So when she gets an offer to star in a reality show based on the DNA dating technology developed by her best friend's husband, she accepts.  But not without first submitting a list of conditions, one of which is that the contestants, or "heroes" as she calls them, must be archetypes typically found in romcoms, e.g., the "Hot Nerd," the "Tattooed Bad Boy," and the "Cinnamon Roll."  (That last one, by the way, is Mr. Sweet and Supportive, which I didn't know before reading this book.)  After some heated back and forth, producer Conner Prince finally hires her.  At first, vivacious Fizzy hates everything about the buttoned-up, romcom-averse Brit.  But as she gets to know him, she realizes he isn't nearly as staid as he seems.  It isn't long before she imagines riding off into the sunset with him.  Still, Fizzy may not be ready to risk her heart.

*    *    *    * 

I enjoyed both of these books.  The Soulmate Equation's Jess and River struck me as the stronger couple, but The True Love Experiment's Fizzy was a more compelling heroine.  Neither novel answered the question about if there's a science to love, but that was okay.  

Style over science, I say.           

Roller Poster of Love: Pics of Pictures

Yesterday I learned that I'll be induced to deliver next Thursday, June 6.  Which was a little bit of a shock even though it shouldn't have been.  So I had a lot of thoughts swirling in my head, mostly about things I wanted to get done.  First on my list?  Assemble my photo album.  

As I mentioned in my last post, I had my favorite Tote Trove pics printed from Shutterfly so that I can look at them (among other colorful things) while in labor.  Because being pregnant is like being in line for a roller coaster.  You (if it was, of course, a planned pregnancy) chose to get on the ride, you want to get on the ride, but now that you're inching closer to the front, you wish you'd picked the merry-go-round.  Yet there's no turning back.  The crowd is pushing you forward, and those pretty ponies are a mere memory.  You're getting on that coaster.  And when you do, it'll be terrifying.  But also fun.  Once it's over, you'll wonder why you worried at all.  Because your life is undeniably fuller for the experience.  

That's how I feel about Thursday. 

Not that the exhilaration of besting an amusement park attraction equals the euphoria of having a child.  Or so I'm told.  But as you well know, wordplay helps me almost as much as pictures.  

Although I plan to keep posting between now and Thursday, my doc said that I may go into labor before then.  So if you don't see anything new from me, know that I'm screaming Space Mountain style, embarking on my biggest adventure.    

Got that, universe?  I said Space Mountain -- not Kingda Ka.