jackson’s nursery

Jesse finally put together the bookshelf in Jackson’s nursery, so I feel like it’s pretty much complete. It’s bright, colorful, and fun. I don’t have a great camera, and I took these in the evening, so there’s no natural light to steal, but you’ll get the jist.


my favorite giraffe in his room.





I had these made with jpg files I created, which is hilarious, because I am NOT a graphic designer of any sort of the word. but I was proud of how they turned out.

I love books, I hope Jackson does, too. I also love giraffes, but I have a feeling he may not share that sentiment.

I love books, I hope Jackson does, too. I also love giraffes, but I have a feeling he may not share that sentiment.

bad pic, but this is the glider I recovered, and the dresser I painted.

bad pic, but this is the glider I recovered, and the dresser I painted.



Jackson and Daddy watching me work my photography skills. haha

Jackson and Daddy watching me work my photography skills. haha

I’m proud of this room mostly because it’s full of personal touches from me. I made the mobile and the crib rail bumpers, the crib skirt and the toy box liner, designed the pics on the wall, recovered the chair, repainted the dresser, painted the room… all for my little man.

oh, I forgot my friend took these when she did JackMack’s newborn photos… much better pictures 🙂











jackson’s birth photos

My photographer friend gave me the CD with the birth photos on Monday when she did newborn photos for us, too. I waited to look at them until I had the time to truly look at them. And cry over them.

Cry, I did. And I probably will every time. They are magical. Priceless.

And, while very, very personal, I also wanted to share with you, my blog world. So, I made a video.


ps… worry not, there aren’t any va-jay-jay shots.

2 weeks.

Self update: I was discharged from the hospital on Saturday, I feel better than I have in a LONG, LONG time. My poor hubby is still recovering, I think. He kept saying, “you can NEVER get sick again.” However, I received a report from my friend, also the nurse at the peds clinic I sent Jackson to last week with Daddy, that Daddy did “amazing!” and “you would be so proud Amanda, he knew everything about the baby. He even knew his discharge weight. He’s such a good daddy.”  I know, my friend, I know. And Jackson and I are lucky to have him.




the picture my hubby drew on my hospital board.

the picture my hubby drew on my hospital board.

The last 2 weeks have touched every single emotion I have.  I can cry in a split second, and I just shrug when it happens, because it’s often out of love or pride, but some times our of pure exhaustion.  Jackson is so much more than I ever expected – so much more amazing and so much more work. But the most “worth it” thing ever.




His spitting is getting somewhat better. Or maybe, more realistically, we are learning how to avoid it, predict it, and manage it. This includes a stack of burp cloths in every room. He’s perfectly happy to puke and move on, he’s not in pain, and he’ll grow out of it. We’ll just do lots of laundry for a while.



He’s still in NB cloths and NB diapers… for maybe a few more days. His cheeks and legs are filling out, losing the itty-bitty baby wrinkles, which makes me so sad.  His tummy’s round and kissable. He lost his belly button today. I just know I’ll turn around and he’ll be preschool. It’s all going too fast.


the cat's curious. Jackson's enjoying naked time to air out his poor little hiney after the diarrhea from my antibiotics.

the cat’s curious. Jackson’s enjoying naked time to air out his poor little hiney after the diarrhea from my antibiotics.

We’ve done two east river road trips, that’s 1600 miles. He travels so well, and we feel so blessed about that.  He sat through class with me last week. Such a big life already for such a little man.


Despite the fact that I am sleep deprived. And I didn’t shower yesterday. Or study for my test today. Life is amazing. We are in love and blessed. He is worth every moment.

reunited after my discharge from the hospital.

reunited after my discharge from the hospital.


8 days post-partum

I wish this post was about my baby. About his perfect skin, his pink bow lips, his little cowlick in his sparkly hair. I have so much to tell all of you about him. About our first night at home. And my HUGE overproduction of breast milk.

But this post is about me. I’m in the hospital… again. I haven’t felt great for a few days, but I’ve been rationalizing-away my symptoms. I’m just tired. I’m just constipated. I’m just over-doing it. Yesterday we drove back east for me to go to class and for some family and friends to meet the baby.
But today, in class, I got a terrible case of the chills. I mean, TERRIBLE. Jackson was with me, and being a good little man, I was cuddling him for warmth, because I felt so cold, but I was also worried I didn’t have enough control and might drop him from my weakness and shaking. I knew it wasn’t mastitis… my breasts pump out pretty well and while tender, they weren’t hurting. I was having horrible back pain. Big gushes of blood. I felt like shit. It was just me and Jackson… we drove across town and I called my husband and then my mom bawling… she was in the hospital with my dad, because he had back surgery today (shit just gets better and better, eh?). I asked her to take me to the other hospital in town where my insurance is through. My temp in the ER triage was 103.1 – wow.

Anyway, I have endometritis, and on the verge of sepsis. They admitted me for 48 hours of antibiotic therapy. You guys, I was only in the hospital for 30 hours after giving birth. I cannot believe this is happening to me. And worse, I had to make a mature decision for my health and let Jesse take the baby back to my in-laws. (actually, they’re our pseudo-in-laws, but that’s a different post for a different time). So I’m here, alone, sick, and my only responsibility is to pump milk for my little tookie-wookie. And at this moment, I’m thanking my lucky stars I’m an over-producer and can still give him that… and yes the antibiotics are all baby-kosher. This will be the first big test of my hubby’s daddy skills, and I’m not worried, but I know he’s not feeling very confident in himself.

So, please, if you could say a little prayer or whatever that my fever stays at bay and I can recover quickly and that my hubby and baby have a semi-decent night away from momma, I would surely appreciate it.

a birth story.

I want this whole post to be right, to accurately portray our birth story. Jackson’s birth story. Monday I was having plenty of contractions. Some “painful,” some just annoying, and hence I was annoyed. So I cleaned. I walked. I … Continue reading

vantage point.

last night my vantage point looked like this…








But today… today is a new day, and my vantage point is so much more beautiful.



Born on his due date, 9/11/13 at 4:56am, weighing 7 pounds and 9 ounces, is our perfect, precious boy… Jackson Christopher McMillan.

SOOOOOO in love.  

birth story to follow when I get an hour of sleep. seriously, just one hour.

here we are.

still pregnant. Not that I’m shocked and amazed. I have been contracting since my appointment on Tuesday, but not useful contractions, just annoying ones. Last night they were 5-10 minutes apart lasting at least a minute a piece for the 3 hours before I went to bed, and while I woke up to multiple more, they are not labor contractions, they are hard, they are uncomfortable, but they are not labor contractions.

I wouldn’t care, but I feel like my maternity leave, the precious small time I will get with my newborn son, is ticking away. Slipping away.

I want him to be healthy and to come when he’s ready. I’m trying to be patient. But my prayers today are definitely that he comes soon.


It’s labor day. Like, “don’t work” day. Except if you are pregnant… the meaning changes a little 🙂

so, dear baby mcmuffin:

I know it’s 9 days before your “estimated date of delivery” and you’re probably comfortable in there. Momma’s not miserable yet, so it’s okay if you don’t come out today. Really.

HOWEVER… if you have a sense of humor as a newborn human, today would be a fun day to be born. Just sayin’

And your dad is really, really excited and impatient for you to come out. He doesn’t have to push you out, so he’s cool with now. RIGHT NOW. Anyway… we love you, we want you to grow on the inside until you’re ready to be on the outside, but just to let you know, the outside is ready for you. And we can’t wait to meet you!

momma and daddy mcmuffin.

37 weeks. and a “birth plan”

Birth Plans. Even hearing the phrase makes me giggle. Smirk. Plans and babies. The fact that I’m still pregnant and Mr.Muffin hasn’t purposely chosen to go against my “plan,” my schedule, is a miracle.  I wrote a birth plan before I got pregnant. A long time ago, when we were still living in Mitchell, I was still an OB nurse, and we were still oblivious to PCOS. It is truly what I would like in my perfect birthing situation… it is also a total spoof on “real” birth plans. I have tweaked it since then, but it still holds the same core values.

When you work in labor and delivery you learn, quickly, that the “plan” is to have a breathing, pink, heart-beating baby.  The “no Pitocin, don’t augment me, I want the whole town in the room, no IV fluids, skin-to-skin, baby can’t ever leave my side” crap goes by the wayside quickly if your baby isn’t healthy. People are TOTALLY entitled to have preferences. You are entitled to not have your baby vaccinated (but please, don’t ask me my opinion), to refuse pain medication, to have the lights dimmed, or to have your great-great grandmother in the room. Whatever, as long as the nurses and physicians can keep you and your baby safe, most anything can be kosher.  (God help me, I’m speaking in the tense of a current L&D nurse, I miss that job so much!). What I learned was also, when things look scary or dangerous, the nurse will escort grandma to the waiting room.  The physician will do everything possible to make sure you don’t bleed out on the table. The pediatrician will whisk your baby away to make sure he starts breathing.  And… much to your birth plan’s surprise, you won’t care.  You’ll just want things to be okay.

So, in honor of being “full term” here is my birth plan:


happy full-term week to us. anytime now, mr.muffin. anytime.