M.I.A.

Sigh. I have three months to slap on here until I reach the present. I figured you'd all appreciate a conciliatory gif from December.



 

Oh. And a current picture of the cutest bald man around these parts. I'd rather have him than a caught-up blog any day of the week.

All Beginnings Have a Beginning

 

So I have to start somewhere.

How about Friday, November 13th, year of our Lord 2020?
Hello to you, Ransom Arthur Owen!

Though some assume that by the time one reaches a tenth baby, labor must be dull, let me assure you it's not. Labor will always be just that-- labor-- and I'm a vessel brimful of relief and gratefulness when God brings another baby safely into our lives. The uncomplicated arrival of a new little one is always cause for thanks, as labor and delivery faithfully drive home the point that life and death are not under our control.

I was pleased when Ransom didn't arrive before his due date, and even more pleased when he waited several days after that. Not only did I have an eternal to-do list and hours of labor (both kinds) hanging over my head like Damocles's sword, but also, in spite of typical pregnancy pain and discomfort, I was savoring his presence curled so close within me. A wonder every time.

Fitful prodromal labor woke me through Wednesday night and then consistently continued on Thursday. I was awake through all the early morning hours of Friday, even though John tried to lull me to sleep with raccoon videos. When everyone else woke up, I prepared to leave for my ob. appointment, tired from a night of no sleep and hoping the baby would either come soon (so I could sleep) or that contractions would stop entirely (so I could sleep). Those priorities are solid!

John took the day off, and after the appointment we ran errands while I tried to decide whether to go to the hospital or not. That afternoon, contractions were uncomfortable enough that we went on a romantic date to the hospital parking lot, followed by a romantic walk punctuated with stops for me to double over and wait for contractions to end. That's the sign! We entered the hospital around 3:30, and Ransom was born at 5:15, just in time to enjoy a romantic hospital supper while we marveled over him.

And I marveled over John, too. Watching this good man hold our babies is one of my favorite things.

COVID protocol allowed no visitors, so we left as fast as we could and returned home around bedtime on Saturday, happy to see our children, exhausted and ready for rest, and thoroughly wrapped around the tiny finger of this Sunbeam.

Saturday Morning: He Saw the Sun

Here's the lone picture of me and baby from the hospital. I'll take it, blurry and all.

And the handsome Papa...

I also thought it was a good idea to film his hiccoughs. 

Name That Baby

We don't look at baby names until the baby arrives, so we spent most of Saturday thumbing through baby names books to see which would fit Sunbeam best. Alden was Dad's middle name, and I've put it on the name lists for all our babies. Since most of them were girls, this is the closest a baby has come to being an Alden, but in the end Arthur won out.

Those of you who contributed hilarious R.A. guesses on Discord brought me some joy when we got home.  Caleb Purdy-- you win the blue ribbon! Refurbished Apartment Owen? I can't remember most, but a ton made me laugh.

Before we decided on Ransom Arthur, we had some fine options of our own.
Here's the pool we chose from (Meathooks Smith just barely missed the cut):

These were the top-runners by the end:

 

I had a roaring headache, and to aid my decision making, John entered all the names into a computer wizard that helps one rank items-- in this case, baby names. It reflected my first name preferences, and then he paired first names with middle names and had me choose between pairs again.  Here are two favorites that popped up as choices, one for Piotr James and one for Sarah CP Tate.


I think you and Dad would dislike this random pairing equally, Pete, though it made me laugh. 

Alden "Pope Gary" Owen.

Sarah, I told John that you and Josh have given your children two middle names, one of which is your maiden name. Unbeknownst to me, he added "Paulson Paulson" as a potential middle name, and when the ranking a.i. gave me this choice, I laughed out loud and took a picture.

Saturday Night: Home Sweet Meatball

We were exhausted when we arrived home. The little children had stayed up past bedtime to meet their new brother and to find out his name, of which they were ignorant because John and I had enjoyed their consternation too much to relent over the phone, so that was the first order of business. 

I don't know who took that accidental video, but, no, Piper, we did not name him Alden.

When we walked in the door, everyone rushed to the baby and stayed there until bedtime.

This video makes me happy. So much love.

And what about that home sweet meatball??  On the way home, I told John I was craving meatball subs, a meal I've eaten only twice in my entire life. He chuckled and asked me if I knew what was waiting for us at home. Nope! Unknown to me, Chef Evan had delivered enough scrumptious meatballs and homemade rolls for an army, and I still can't figure out how he knew what I wanted before I even knew what I wanted.

Meeeeeatball suuuuuuubs. I ate them for three straight meals.
Thank you, Evan. Barring dementia, that's a supper I'll remember for the rest of my life.

 

Sunday

Ransom and I were up most of the night, and Sunday morning was a blur. Somewhere in the middle of my throwing bins around in the basement to find the baby boy baptism outfit so that I could wash it in time, Mopsy showed up in her slippers to meet her newest grandbaby.

It's not the greatest picture, but look at those two! Thirty-three grandchildren and counting, and it still doesn't get old. 

Newborn size, and he's swimming in it.

Oh, sweet baby. On your baptism morning, God was with you, as He remains with you now, and as we pray He will be for the rest of your life. May those washing waters work good, and may your heavenly Father grow you strong and righteous, a man to love God, to love others, and to speak truth.

 

Leftovers from Before-Ransom

My chum extraordinaire hosted a surprise baby shower for me a couple of weeks before Ransom came, with church friends and surprise friends (Heidi! Elizabeth! Anna!) gathering to celebrate. Not much is better than having people you love rejoice over a baby you love. That's the way it should always be! Go here to see pictures. (The lemon cookies were the best ever.)

The next day I laid all the loot out on our bed to put it away and had to laugh. What tenth baby is this spoiled??? 

What MAMA of a tenth baby is this spoiled??? :)

And, because I ran out of my gifted Burt's Bees baby products a couple of babies ago, they were lavish enough to replenish the stores...and more. 

I don't usually buy diaper rash ointment anymore but had splurged on a Walmart tube before Ransom came. Sorry Parent's Choice. I'm leaving you to run off with Burt and his bees. It's no contest!

It is a great gift to have those who love us also know the blessing of babies. Thank you, everyone, for surrounding us with care and spoiling us so!

Onward, ho!

Dude built the largest leaf pile in the history of the Old Homestead. The children covered it with tarps before rain and enjoyed it until we needed it for the garlic beds. 

They put it to Very Good Use.

Skylark's jump buried her neck-deep.

And, for Aponi, here are pictures of the cutest miniature horse as he lives the dream.

Okay, well, THIS part's probably not so dreamy...

...but he doesn't seem to mind, as long as there's an ample supply of grass.

 And, lastly, Dude turns lumberjack and topples the dead maple.