From Brian

I’m not usually one to be proud. The cynic in me realizes that anything good or notable I’ve ever done is the culmination of events and circumstances beyond my direct control. And the good Christian ethics of my upbringing dictates that one should never descend into the mire of pride. And yet when I look at my son, I get a strong sense of excitement and adoration and calm confidence toward him that I can only describe as pride. I am proud of my son. I am probably more proud of my son than of anything else I’ve ever encountered in my life. I am proud in a way that is removed from myself—in that my pride is of no accomplishment of mine. It is external. I am honored. I am blessed by this little man, this presence outside of myself that is obviously tied forever to me. He is an honor to me. An honor to us.

My pride does not come from anything he has accomplished. It’s not because of anything he has done, or will do. He cries in the night. At times he sleeps only in short, unpredictable bursts. He tries my patience, not to mention his mother’s. He will some day get into trouble. He will cause problems. He will get into fights. He will break hearts. Even as I write this, I have to stop momentarily to replace the pacifier or to rock him back to sleep. I do not know if he is intelligent. I don’t know if he has any athletic abilities. He may be a poet or a dancer. He may be a carpenter or a doctor. He may end up a graphic designer for all I know. Or a dentist. Or a chemical engineer, or an Army intelligence officer. All of that is beside the point. The fact is that he exists. He lives and breathes. He giggles and squeals and drools on himself. He pees and fills his diaper. He is a human being. And he represents the greatest act of faith for a man who believes in the fundamental darkness of fallen human nature, the hope for a better future for all of us, that one generation just might be better than the one that came before.

But I must sign off now. He is crying. He’s lost his pacifier. Or his diaper needs changing. Or he is hungry. He calls, and we must answer. He is, after everything, our son.

Our little man at 15 weeks

Braeden's first photo shoot!

Our little man is 4 weeks old.

I know, I know, I haven't been keeping up with the blog like I said I would but as you all know both Brian and I have been a bit occupied lately. :) I still haven't gotten around to typing out our birth story yet but eventually I will. So today our little Braeden is 4 weeks old. These past few weeks have been...I don't even have a word to describe it. I have never been so emotional, in love, lonely, tired, inspired, drained and happy in my entire life. I now understand that there really is no way of preparing yourself for having a newborn. It is nothing like I had imagined. It is so much more rewarding, enjoyable, and harder than I ever would have thought.

I have to admit when we first came home from the hospital I kept thinking "oh god, what did we do". I was so nervous and overwhelmed about being a mom...along with the crazy hormone changes. Lets just say I cried a lot. For about a week I couldn't stop crying. I felt so bad because I had been waiting so long for this little guy to get here and now that he was here I was crying all the time. Recovery was also a bit rough. I knew recovery from a c-section would be tough but I wasn't expecting it to be as hard as it was. 21 hours of labor and an emergency c-section sure does take a toll on the body! I was able to get a grasp on things though and it did get much better. Once I was able to get somewhat of a routine down and I had recovered enough to get out of the house everything started looking up.

Braeden is such an amazing baby. Nights are still a bit rough but that is to be expected. He has started to smile which just makes my heart melt! I'm sorry to all you moms out there but I do have the most adorable baby in the world. He loves to snuggle but at the same time likes his own space. He is already sleeping in his own crib and he seems to love it. He loves to eat and eat and eat and eat. The kid gained 1 pound in a week! He really is a dream and I am so in love. I knew I would love him but I never imagined that I would love him this much. Love just doesn't even seem like a strong enough word for the way that I feel about him.

Thanks to everyone who has been so supportive of our new little family. We have really appreciated all the Facebook comments and all the love that has been sent out way. We can't wait for you all to meet our little man...he's pretty cool.

Much love,
Cortney

P.S. Murphy already loves Braeden! Every morning Murphy gets up wagging his tail and goes into Braeden's room to check up on him. It's pretty adorable.

Welcome Home Braeden James!

We are all finally home and nesting in nicely. Braeden is doing great and is such an angel. Next week Brian and I will share the whole birth story with you all but for now here are some pictures of the little man.
Love,
Cortney

41 weeks

From Dad...
Somewhere there is a group of old women. They’re married to somebody. As a group, they have a name. They’re called the Old Wives. I know... genius. And for some reason, this magical group knows a lot of things. Or at least they have a lot to say, a lot of advice to give, plenty of tales to tell about how things are to be done and how you should live your life. Beware of them. They may mean well, but they don’t always know what they’re talking about. In fact, their tales are known specifically as not really meaning anything. But they keep talking anyway. And a lot of people still listen, and pass along the advice to whomever doesn’t really want it. But they mean well. So try not to let it bother you when the time comes when you are handed such things.

So your due date came and went. Seemed like about a month ago. A lot has happened since then. The space-time continuum has slowed down to where each “normal” 24-hour period seems to take 24 days or so. We’re all anxiously awaiting your arrival. Extra innings. Late into the night. We’re running out of pitching staff; going to have to put the short stop on the mound soon, if this thing goes on much longer.

Your soon-to-be best friend Alice was born last Wednesday, stealing your due date and all of our hearts. She’s really quite amazing. Little pink skin and full head of red hair. So the bar’s been set pretty high, little buddy, for health and adorableness and projectile bodily functions that I won’t go into here, and we’re all ready for you to come forth and be recognized for your own level of cuteness and talents as yet unknown. So if I may urge you gently in any way to decide that very very soon is a good time to head on out, so to speak, then let me do so now. But until then, be well, stay warm, and happy cooking.


From Mom...
Your dad's post says it all. This past week has been such a long week. Time has really slowed down. It has been an emotional week as well. We have now entered the stage where we worry about every move we make and worry whether or not we are making the right decisions when it comes to the health of our child. I am learning that everyone has something to say and just when you think you have made the right decision someone makes you second guess yourself. Our doctor has scheduled us to be induced tomorrow at midnight. We have gotten many comments and opinions about this causing me to have many meltdowns and causing much confusion. I have come realize though that in the end you must make a decision, be confident in that decision, and trust that you are doing what is best. You will someday discover that everyone has an opinion and something to say but trust yourself and be confident and you will do fine.

I am so excited for you to meet your little buddy Alice. Today is her 1 week birthday and she is so adorable. We went to visit last night and she is amazing. Her parents have settled nicely into parenthood and are doing an amazing job. I hope we are able to ease in as nicely as they have. It is so neat to think that by this time next week I will have you in my arms. I so look forward to meeting you little monkey. Be well in there and we will see you very very soon.

40 weeks

From Dad...
So today’s the day. The due date. The day we’ve all been focusing on for quite a long time: 9.9.09. But it doesn’t look like you’re ready to join us just yet. There has been a lot of speculation as to when you’ll arrive, even an office betting pool or two, but we’re told there’s only a 2% chance of you coming on your actual due date. It appears we’re following that statistic. I’m sort of hoping for the 14th myself, so you’ll share a birthday with your grandpa, which would make you only five days late, but I know your mother’s really hoping for sooner. She’s having a lot of trouble moving around these days, you know. Carrying you puts quite a strain on her body. The substitute doctor last week guessed that you’re about 7.5 pounds at the moment, give or take a bit. He also said you’re in no hurry to go anywhere. Old Murphy will be the only one in the family not born in September, but he’s only off by three days, so I suppose that’s all right.

Last night felt like Christmas. Or maybe Thanksgiving. One of the holidays, at least. I don’t really know why that was, but something about the cool crisp air while I was padding around in my socks and PJs on the thick soft rug with a glass of wine in hand made it feel like gifts were about to be opened. It made me think about this year’s Christmas, and how you’ll be a little over three months old by the time it rolls around. Sprawled out on a blanket, head up, checking everybody out in that unsteady baby-like way. Made me very happy. I thought about a little four or five month old boy I held in my lap a few months back and how he’d had this great big grin as he gripped the sides of my face at the temples and brought his forehead to mine, grinning eyes right in my face. “Cute” doesn’t quite cut it. Did it over and over. This little kid was pretty amazing. And you’ll be nearing his size by the time Christmas comes. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. Just know that we’re ready. The nets are up to catch you. We’ve got all the towels in the world. But until you’re good and satisfied that it’s time to come out, be well, stay warm, and happy cooking.

From Mom...
Today is the day but it seems that it will not be your birthday. It would have been pretty neat to have a birthday of 9.9.09. It seems that your soon to be little buddy Alice has taken your expected birthday. As I write this, our friends are in the hospital getting ready for Alice's appearance. I am so excited for them but I have to admit I was a little depressed when I heard they were at the hospital. Today is the day they get to meet their baby girl. I so badly want to meet my baby boy. Maybe it's just all these pregnancy hormones but even as I sit here I find myself crying. Yes, I am very uncomfortable but mainly I just want to meet you and hold you in my arms and be your mom already. I want to share you with the world and share the world with you. You dad is calling it prepartum depression. :)

Last night your dad and I went for a lovely walk. It was fun to think that in only a few weeks we will be taking you for walks and introducing you to one of Murphy's parks and his favorite game of catch. I look forward to the days when he starts to drop a ball at your little feet for you to throw. Be well in there little monkey. I love you with all my heart.