Who ARE we?

A Little Bit About Us
A regular old family living in the suburbs of Milwaukee. No big story here, really. Except the rude introduction we had to parenthood and the exceptional recovery our micro-preemie has made as he toddles into regular childhood. And our recent addition, Tucker, who reinforces our faith in pregnancy, gestating and childbirth…things can go as planned (almost).

So we have Ollie, our reformed micro-preemie who struggles with a few things, but is clearly catching up to his peer-group. With the help of a handful of therapists, a boatload of prayers and never-ending support from his family, he’s overcoming his delays and challenges like a champ.
At 18 months old, his preemie-hood was keeping him from getting into trouble like your typical toddler, but in the last months that’s changed dramatically. Like most babies forced into the world three months early, he’s created his own timeline of developmental milestones, adapting as he could to his abilities. He’s sitting up (that’s old news), then army crawling, then butt-scooting, then finally walking just one week before his second birthday.
He’s a true rockstar, this kid, and as we throw new challenges into his life, (Hello, TUCKER!) he’s adapting, evolving, taking on these challenges in the way that Ollie does: headlong and fearless. Bobbing and weaving, dodging and hopping as he keeps his head above water and continues to impress and amaze.
And now there’s Tucker! Our little Take Home Baby, born just 3 weeks early (with the help of some medical intervention). He’s showing us how easy it can be to take a person from newborn to infancy and further, without as much worry that something is going to happen. He’s not the same as Ollie, but he’s not that different, either. They’re both awesome, a mix and match of delightfulness that keeps us dancing as he throws different things at us. Tucker’s introducing us to a whole new world of infancy and baby things, things that are happening as they should.

Me? I used to be the one in your office who proclaimed, “I could never stay at home. If I didn’t work, I’d die!” A bit overdramatic? Perhaps. I was a newlywed who’d stay til 7pm to make a deadline, to perfect the wording, to tweak the color scheme on that pesky ad one last time.

In an unexpected twist of fate, my first pregnancy ended abruptly, 3 months early. Not surprisingly, my priorities changed. I quit my 8-5 without a thought, to stay home with Ollie, and now Tucker.

I proudly am the hovering, spit-up-wearing, sporadically showering stay-at-home mom I never thought I’d be.

Oh, and I’m certainly not going at this alone. I would be sorely be remiss if I didn’t give a shout-out to Matt, my husband of 3 years. A man who, early in our relationship, proclaimed, “I’m an as-hole,” (and meant it) but has spent the last six years *not* living up to that declaration.


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