Quatro

To my sweetie belle,

(I'm not usually the type to call anyone "sweetie belle." After all, I am from Iowa, not Texas, but you bring out the softy in me. That's what a baby girl will do.)

Happy 4th Birthday!

On the morning of May 23rd, as we were driving to preschool with chocolate chip mini muffins for all of your friends, out of the blue from the backseat you said, "I don't feel like I'm four."

Now if that isn't the cutest thing to say I don't know what is, but you don't like to be called cute so I couldn't say that. However I could tell you'd been waiting to feel different from the moment you woke up and when it didn't happen, you were disappointed and confused. Well, sweetheart, I don't feel like I'm 34 either. I know what you're going through waiting for your birthday to make you feel older, but it usually never does. It's in the little moments that you really, truly grow up. We've experienced many of them this year...from you reading a billboard that says "zoo," making besties in Penelope, Maisie and Decker at preschool, your legs hanging over the carseat longer than I remember the day before...they all add up. And it's those snapshots that remind me you are getting older, so don't worry, it's happening. Far faster than I'd like.

But back to your birthday. At home you had a princess-themed party.

And at school your teachers and friends sang to you at exactly 9:43 a.m., the time you were born, which made me smile to know that you were showered with love by them. Your teachers Miss Jamie and Miss Justice care about you so much, and for good reason.

(Sidenote: while this blog seems like I am bragging to others since you can't quite read...and we haven't shared the wi-fi password with you yet this letter is truly for you so I'm not holding back on how wonderful you are, with a few "truths" sprinkled in.)

Your teachers like you because you're a good listener. You have an incredibly long attention span and general curiosity about life. Just try sitting next to you on movie night. 20 questions...just in the first five minutes. I've been accused of asking too many questions too, so I find it endearing and think you may end up a journalist, though you are firm in that you simply want to be "a mom." You'll make a great one, and your children will appreciate your sense of humor, though hopefully by then you've moved on from the three knock-knock jokes you know currently. #Interruptingcow

With more time to yourselves since Calvin came along, you and your sister fight constantly, and because she's bigger and stronger than you, you fight back with high-pitched screams, yelling her name and middle initial (FAITHY J!), and phrases such as "I don't like you anymore, "or "I'm telling, mom." However, big sis is also the only one who can make you belly laugh the hardest. Can't live with her, can't live without her.

Another thing I love about you is your love for music. Now that we have Sirius XM in the car, we listen to the top 40 hits on repeat. You can name most songs in approximately three notes and Imagine Dragons "Believer" is your favorite, followed closely by Ed Sheeran's "Castle on the Hill." When I see you singing the words in the review mirror while you gaze out the window, it stops me cold. You're beautiful.

With Calvin being a newborn and you turning four all at once, I find I have more patience with his sleeplessness and need to nurse constantly, all because it seems as though we were just there with you.

One more year and you're going off to Kindergarten. While Faith never looked back, I think you and me will have a harder time. You are my mommy's girl, though watching you ride on your dad's shoulders while you pet his head would say otherwise. I feel like I baby you sometimes, and maybe take your side more often than not during those sibling rivalries because you'll always be my baby girl. (By the way, don't let Faith read this lest she be vindicated.)

We were shopping at K-Mart the other day when you asked if you could have some candy out of the machine. I of course said no, since you didn't need it and I had no change, but then I looked at the floor and there was a shiny quarter just waiting to be found. I told you it was your lucky day and then let you purchase some likely-expired, rock hard Skittles. You were so excited and told everyone who would listen about your "lucky day." It's the little things that kids seem to remember most. Remember that when you're a mom.

I've never met anyone who loves the water more than you. At the splash pad, you run with abandon. Even when the water is frigid and you're shivering, you won't admit to being cold because it would mean having to sit on your towel. My hope is that your zest for the water is every indication of your zest for life. Though I wish you had a zest for mornings, you are more of a night owl. You proved that when you stayed up until 11 o'clock on Memorial Day weekend and had more energy than the rest of the family combined.

And I'm not sure which you love more: cake pops or screen time. I wish I could say you like to read the encyclopedia or something, but you prefer a good episode of PJ Masks (this cartoon is terrible by the way -- really, go back and watch it when you're older). You constantly ask to play on my phone and have Snapchatted more of my friends than I have simply because I still haven't fully figured out how to use the app. I have more pictures and 4-second videos taken by you on my phone than there's room for on the cloud, but that's for another post.

Though you're small in stature, you have one big personality. And it's mom and dad's pleasure to watch you grow. Happy birthday, babe! Here's to never feeling, or acting, your age.

Calvin's Birth Story

We arrived at the hospital around 4 p.m. on Sunday, April 23. While Mr. Lindquist was in full "bring on the baby" mode, I feared being sent home. Again. If you recall from Gabby's birth story, we experienced a false alarm in the a.m. hours only to have my water break that very night. 

With this pregnancy, I experienced more and more contractions in the weeks leading up to the 23rd, though intermittent. On Easter Sunday I had several in a row before they fizzled out. So the next Sunday, when they started waking me out of sleep at 4:30 a.m., I thought they would eventually go away as well. 10 hours later, the contractions were still 10 ish minutes apart. Some were more intense than others, but we were instructed to go in only if they were 5 minutes apart. To keep my mind occupied, we played t-ball in the front yard, and lounged in our "new" hammock (that's been stored at my mom's house since approximately 2004). 

We all decided to grab lunch at a sandwich shop a couple miles from our house. On our way there, I had a few bad contractions, and while leaving the patio of the restaurant (no way I was going inside and having my water break in the dining room) I had to stop and grab a table to brace for another contraction. Since they still weren't 5 minutes apart I decided to go home and rest. We sent the girls with grandma and papa and said we'd see them at dinnertime. 

2:30 rolled around and I decided to finally pause a Netflix episode and call the nurse line. Since this wasn't my first, or second for that matter, birthing rodeo, she advised I go in and get checked. Up to this point I'd avoided the ole check-a-roo because OW! While that saved Rob a few brutal hand squeezes during my checkups, it also meant I had no baseline to see if my contractions were making anything progress.

Therefore, 4 cm dilated at 4 o'clock on Sunday coupled with intermittent contractions meant nothing to the doctor in labor & delivery. We were given the option to return home or walk around for a couple hours. This sounded all too familiar. I gave Rob "the look" which meant I could be home watching Netflix, but noooo, he made me come here only to most likely be sent home. I slipped back into my clothes and away we regrettably went. For two hours we strolled the UNMC campus, and my inner tour guide came out again, most likely with the same verbiage from when I was in false labor with Gabby.

Fast forward to about 6 p.m., when I was checked again. No change. Before they sent us home though, she wanted to check the fluid around the baby after noticing some heart decelerations following contractions. While this worried me a bit, I was happy to stay put. Also, the labor & delivery nurse eased my mind when she told me she thought the decelerations could be chalked up to variability since the majority of the other contractions did not show them. 

After confirming the fluid around baby was fine, the doctor offered to let me labor a bit more until 8 p.m,. to see if there was any change, as between getting back from the walk and the quick ultrasound, my contractions started to worsen. Before the clock struck 8, I knew there was no turning back. These contractions were the real deal and they were going to have to wheel me to my car in protest if they wanted me to leave. Thankfully, at 8 p.m. I had dilated to a 6. I received "admitted" status, which Rob noticed meant I got my official hospital mug rather than a disposable cup of ice water. 

I'm not sure the nurse had finished the word "admitted" when I shouted DRUGS! NOW! (possible exaggeration). The nurse immediately administered Fentanyl, but not before informing me that's what Prince overdosed and died from. #themoreyouknow She explained to us that the dosage was equivalent to 4 shots of Patrón Tequila. I may have been experiencing a contraction while she said this as a minute after she administered it, I had no idea why I started feeling as though I'd lost control of my appendages. Because things were progressing so quickly, anesthesia was quickly summoned. (insert heavenly "ahhhh" noises). Unfortunately she missed a few times inserting the world's longest needle into my spine. NBD. Soon enough the drugs were flowing and at about 8:30ish, we were finally left alone for a bit. I couldn't feel the pain from the contractions, so I had no idea how intense they were. Rob and the nurses were taking bets as to whether the baby would be born before midnight or after. Since Gabs was born on the 23rd and Faith on the 24th, I was hoping baby would come on the 22nd or 25th and have his own day, but here we were. At some point I took this video:

I was leaning toward the 24th when the nurse came in at about 10 and asked how I was doing. I said I felt a little pressure and she offered to check me again. While checking, she said, "yeah, I don't feel the cervix at all." Oh, did it take a vacation, I wondered. Maybe it moved somewhere and forgot to fill out a forwarding address form. It didn't dawn on me that it meant I was "complete" aka ready to push until she told me, "you are ready to push." 

OH! The 23rd it is. 

So, in summary, at 6 p.m. they were ready to send us home and at 10 p.m. I was ready to push. This was all on my own, no pitocin involved, just a few "checks" and of course the IV cocktail. At no point did they break my water, and I asked when that would happen. I didn't realize you could deliver with it in tact. This might be TMI but the doctor sat down for the practice push and said, "masks on, ladies!" 

I'll spare you the pushing details other than to say this was the first birth my husband watched without looking away at all. Apparently the third time is a charm to rid someone of their squeamishness. They asked me if I wanted to touch baby's head as he was crowning, and after initially being afraid I did it and it made me realize how close I was to holding my son in my arms. (Good motivation technique!) A few minutes later, Calvin Robert Lindquist came screaming into the world, and I full on sobbed. 

As I pulled his tiny body to my chest, I told him I loved him over and over again. I couldn't see his face because he was so high up on my chest, yet I knew immediately that I would do literally anything for him. Soon I got to cradle him in my arms and study his face. I saw baby Faith right away. With the red hair Gabby was born with before it turned blonde. 

Originally, I wasn't sure about having a baby boy. After two girls who have been fairly easy as far as kids go, I worried how different it would be. It's taken his arrival for me to feel thrilled that he is a boy and my little man. And I don't know if it's because of that or because he's most likely our last baby (despite Faith pointing out we don't know that for sure) but I am smitten and already wrapped around his tiny finger, same for his dad and sisters.

But back to the delivery room. When I finally took my eyes off of baby to look at my husband, I saw a man who was in awe of what he just witnessed. The love I felt for him in that moment was no less awesome than it was the first or second time we brought babies into this world. With this pregnancy, we didn't have a definite first name picked out heading to the hospital. We thought we'd give him a once over and go with one of our top 3. But as the labor progressed, his name kept ringing louder in my head and when the nurses finally asked what his name was, I said, "I think we are going to call him Calvin." They swooned. And all was right with the world.

Before I sign off, I just want to say thank you to the most supportive, loving partner a girl could have. Thank you for letting me squeeze the feeling out of your hand, cry uncontrollably for no reason, worry too much about the circumcision, all while waiting on me hand and foot. Can I have some water? A mint? That blanket. No, not that one. A pillow, my pills, a granola bar, the iPad, my phone, a million dollars. Just kidding. But he'd probably try if that's what I asked for. Thank you, dear, for all you've done and continue to do. I've noticed. I love you. And you have unlimited Starbucks privileges from here on out! ;)

Birthday Season is upon the Lindquists

So it's birthday season for the Lindquists. 

And if you haven't heard (which would be a little surprising) we've added a third birthday along side Faith (June) and Gabby (May). Calvin Robert Lindquist was born on April 23rd at 10:45pm. He was the largest of the three, coming in at a staunch 7lbs 12oz and 19.5" long. 

And that's where I come in (wait, actually about 9ish months ago, but that's another story). It's time for my post-baby post. 

What an amazing experience this was. Now, I realize all three were unique and have their own crescendos to them, but this was fast (in the perspective of labor) and furious (in terms of the movie). And while I "helped" with the girls, this was different. I won't go into details, but I was so overwhelmed with what I saw I was crying with joy. 

The girls instantly fell in love with him. 

Everything went well, and we are in the throes of the first few days with a newborn (so hopefully this as coherent as sleeping pizza). But even better, we are a family of five, and with four birthdays in three months (plus our 10-year anniversary this June 2nd) we have an exciting few months just starting, and I'm glad I get to live it and love it with the family I have. 

Here are a few photos from the first moments of Calvin's life. 

Our first photo together.

Two hours after birth, Cal is weighed.

A quick bonding moment for me and the boy.

Here, I believe, I'm imparting some great wisdom... or he tooted.

Definitely a toot.

He looks like A)mom B)dad C)Faith D)Gabby E)all of the above

A very proud big(gest) sister.

A very proud big(ger) sister.

The men of the house doing what they do best. I swear I was awake for this, right?

And finally, the name. I bet you're wondering how we got to Calvin. Well, it just so happened to be on both of our lists, and we loved it. I think our "top five" was something like: Calvin, Clark, Leo, Hudson, Theo. But, I'm going to let you in on a little secret on one of my reasons I liked it: 

"Cal L."

- "Rob L."