Asher's Arrival - all the gory details

I can’t believe it has already been 6 weeks since my new little man came into the world.  Of course, he interrupted my world a little longer ago.  I felt him kick me many weeks ago.  I started planning for him months ago.  I started dreaming of him years ago.

 I am already getting a little fuzzy on the details of those wonderfully exhausting days, so I figured I should write it down before my sleep-deprived brain forgets it altogether.

But first… warning!  THIS POST MAY CONTAIN OVERSHARING AND TALK OF BODILY FLUIDS. 

I breezed through my long – awaited pregnancy with relative ease, save for a kidney stone or two, up until the last month when my blood pressure skyrocketed and my body swelled up like a blimp.  After two trips to the hospital for monitoring, I made it to my last doctor’s appointment at 39 weeks 6 days.  I was feeling good as I waddled my blimpy self into the office and sat on the exam table, but after the nurse took my very high blood pressure, my doctor (who I LOVE if I haven’t already said so) came in and said, “Well, let me check you so I know where we’re starting from once I send you to the hospital in a few minutes.” 

You think I would have been more prepared since I was one day from 40 weeks, but even still, I had a small breakdown in the office.  I didn’t want to be induced.  I wanted Button to come when he was ready, but with my blood pressure issues and the fact that he was estimated to be nearly nine pounds already, it seemed that we needed to get the show on the road to get him here safely.  At the end of my appointment, my doctor instructed me to go directly to the hospital and have Jay go get my bags later – do not go home, do not go to lunch, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

Being the obedient girl I am, I went directly home.  To be fair, I live a whopping two minutes from the hospital, and only gave myself 15 minutes to get the rest of my stuff together before heading to labor and delivery.  

This was early Wednesday afternoon.  The plan was to start a medicine that would “ripen” me for delivery, then start Pitocin some time Thursday morning, so we didn’t expect to see any real action until Thursday night at least.

Oh, a little side story that is just so me – a couple of hours after I arrived at the hospital, the nurse requested a urine sample to check again for preeclampsia.  Actually, they requested the sample as soon as I got there, but since I was coming directly (kind of) from the doctor’s office where I had just given one such sample, I was not properly equipped to provide it just yet, so it took an hour or so and one of those giant hospital mugs of ice water to prepare.

Anyway, when I was finally ready, I went into the restroom to commence the glamorous peeing in a cup, when I, not realizing it, got my blood pressure cuff caught on the pull-in-case-of-emergency cord.  As I was lifting the cup to set it in its holding place, a nurse burst into the room to make sure I was okay.  I responded by screaming and throwing the contents of the cup in her general direction.

Yep, the Spaldings have arrived!

looking marvelous

The first night in the hospital was pretty boring.  Contractions had started by the time they hooked me up to the monitors, but they were light and irregular.  I passed the time by watching one of the ten seasons of Friends that Jay had thought to stash in my bag.   I was put on clear liquids as soon as I got there (didn’t get to eat again until late Friday night) so I sipped on chicken broth and enjoyed a popsicle here and there.  The one thing I didn’t do was sleep.  Though every nurse who came in through the night told me I needed to sleep, I just couldn’t do it (Jay had no such problem, even on the most uncomfortable looking pull-out chair you’ve ever seen.  Most of the nurses would giggle at his snoring when they came in to check my vitals).  I did my best to doze off and on and had decided that I would get up about 5 a.m. and get a shower before all the excitement of the day started.  At 4:55 a.m., I woke up startled and discovered that it felt like my bed was wet.  I woke Jay up, thinking maybe I had waited too long between bathroom breaks.  Jay helped me up (I had an IV and was hooked up to monitors, so he was great to wake up and unhook and rehook me every time I needed him), and as I attempted to walk to the bathroom, it became increasingly clear that my water had broken (I had been a little worried that it might happen in my car or on my new carpet, but everyone told me not to worry, that it doesn’t gush out like it does in the movies.  They were wrong!). 

The nurse came in to confirm my water had broken and started me on the Pitocin to strengthen and regulate my contractions.  Because my water broke, I didn’t get to take a shower, nor did I get to employ any of the coping techniques I’d so dutifully learned in my birthing class because with every contraction, the water kept coming. No walking the halls, no birthing ball, no holding onto your partner and swaying back in forth.  As the day dragged on, I progressed very slowly, even as the contractions got stronger and close together.  At about 5:30 p.m., I had an epidural, which succeeded in numbing the right side of my body really well and the left side not at all.  The night was difficult (no sleep again), but finally, at about 7 a.m. on Friday morning, my doctor came in to check me.  I was sure she was going to say we were almost there, but instead, delivered the news that I was only 3 ½ centimeters.  Since it had been 27 hours since my water had broken, she decided that a C-section was our best course of action.

Go time! Get the baby out of that poor, puffy woman!

After another small breakdown on my part, the nurses quickly began prepping me for surgery.  I was feeling very sick and everything happening around me was a blur.  I remember the nurse putting warm socks on my feet and compression machines on my legs, I remember everyone talking about the blanket of snow that had fallen overnight, I remember that they couldn’t find shoe covers big enough to cover Jay’s shoes in the operating room, I remember my best friend, Wesley the anesthesiologist, coming in to give me more medicine so that I would be completely numb (it mostly worked).   In no time, they were wheeling me to the operating room.

Jay had to stay behind while they got all set up, strapped my arms and legs down, and hung the cover to hide whatever it was they were going to be doing to me.  I was pretty panicky as the doctors worked all around me, but when I turned my head to the left and saw Jay settling in beside me, I felt a bit of calm wash over me.  I don’t know how long it took to get the baby out.  It could have been 30 seconds or 30 minutes.  I kept my eyes closed and just tried to concentrate on breathing in and out and telling myself that I wasn’t really feeling anything – that it was my imagination.  I felt very hot – there was something blowing warm air at my face.  At some point I noticed I had an oxygen mask on.  

Suddenly, in all the chaos, there was a stillness, and I heard it.  He cried.  All the trying, all the failures, all the hoping, all the worrying, all the years, all the waiting… it was done.  He was here.  Born at 9:13 a.m. on December 6^th , weighing 8 lbs, 9 oz.

finally here

pay no attention to the guts in this picture

big boy!

I only got to glance at him for a moment before the nurses whisked him and Jay away as I was put back together.  It was well over an hour before I would see them again.

As I was finally wheeled to the recovery room, I heard the voices of my Micah and my in-laws and knew they were waiting for me, and waiting to meet the new member of our family.

It seemed to take forever for Jay and Asher to come and meet me.  The snow had slowed down everything at the hospital so it was taking longer to discharge patients and the hospital was short-staffed.  I was very anxious to see Asher, to hold him, to nurse him.  Finally I heard my husband’s voice down the hall, and I sat up and prepared for the magical moment that I had been waiting for.  Suddenly, nothing else seemed to matter much – the pain from the surgery, the disappointment that nothing really went the way I’d hoped.  All that mattered was on its way to me.  Micah was already standing beside me as they entered the room and my eyes filled with tears.  I was so in love with our little family.  I couldn’t wait to have this new little man in my arms.  Jay carefully and lovingly handed me our baby, and I looked down on him with all the love in the world.  Then quickly handed him back to his dad and threw up everywhere.

Welcome to our world, Asher David!

an amazing letter...

In the month of December, we received a ton of mail.  Ads and junk, doctor bills, Christmas cards, well-wishes and congratulations for the new baby… but one piece of mail sticks out among the rest.  Shortly after Asher’s birthday, we received a letter we won’t soon forget… it was from Asher.

Now, let me preface this by saying that I’m not crazy -  I don’t actually believe that Asher wrote us a letter (or do I?  He is my child, and thus, likely a genius), but if you had something to do with it, please don’t ever tell me.  I love the mystery of this special note.

This is what the letter said –

Dear Mommy, Daddy and Micah,

Hi!  My name is Asher.  I like it!! I know you know my name, but I wanted you to know the name you chose for me is great.  You’ve said that I’ve been sent to you by God.  You’re right!  He needed someone to take care of me so he sent me to you.  He also wanted me to tell you a few things. I know it may seem a little strange coming from someone just a few days old, but this is what God told me to tell you.

Mommy, you have “found favor with God.”  Now what that means, I’m not sure.  I think it may mean that you have been given a gift so precious that He could entrust it to no one else but you.  I was told that you would love me more than anyone else could.  I know you have to do all the routine things like changing my messy diapers, feeding me and keep me clean, but God said the most important thing you will ever do is to love me. I guess that is more important to God than changing my messy diapers.  But be assured, I will cry to let you know if I’m messy or hungry.  Just saying!

Daddy, I was told you are funny and know a lot of silly jokes.  God said you would make me laugh and be happy.  Though I’m not sure what a joke is yet, I’m sure you’ll teach me.  God also said a part of your “regular” job is to help a lot of people to understand that they need to know Him.  He said you would teach me about… “the Way, the Truth, and the Life…” I’m anxious to know what all that means.  He also said something about Kentucky.  I wasn’t sure if He was talking about a place or a state of mind.  I guess you’ll let me know.

Micah, I am so happy to have a big brother!!  God said one day you will be my best friend and will make sure no one picks on me.  He also said sometimes you may not understand all the fuss everyone makes over me.  Well, the reason is that I’m not as big as you and I need other people to take care of me.  You sure are lucky you are old enough to do things I can’t do yet.  You will always be ahead of me.  Make sure you lead me in the right direction.  I’ll need your help to learn things that parents don’t know.  One thing for sure – I’ll always have a big brother to take care of me.

Well, that’s all I remember that I was to tell you.  Oh yeah, I almost forgot!  God talks a lot about love.  You know how He is.  Guess what!  I know what love is!!  God said love is… Mommy, Daddy and Micah!  I love you too.

Your son and baby brother,

Asher

Prelude to a Post (Hopefully)

When I first received the miraculous news several months ago that I was “with child,” I really thought we’d survive this pregnancy together, blog style, and quite honestly, I’ve started or at least made notes for about a dozen posts, but I have yet to put the finishing touches on any of them… mostly because life has just been extremely busy, and any sedentary moments as of late have resulted in my immediately falling asleep. That, and the fact that pregnancy brain has effectively clogged the ducts of my creative juices.

 I have now been told by my doc that thanks to some pretty crazy blood pressure spikes, I need to take it as easy as possible and keep my feet up as much as I can until our little Button makes his appearance – hopefully within the next two weeks. So I thought that I might go back and try to see if I can salvage any of my random thoughts these last few months.

Now that I’m a whiny, swollen, uncomfortable, 9 months pregnant, wretched woman, it might do me some good to revisit some of the earlier moments of this blessing!

While Waiting on Baby #2, I'd Better Remember Who's #1!

This last month, my pitiful little man has had to have some pretty extensive dental work done.  Due to a very underdeveloped mouth, he has had to have (so far!), 3 baby root canals, 3 caps, 3 jaw teeth pulled, 1 front tooth pulled, and wire spacers put in.  He has one more intense visit (and one more payment!), next week, and then a couple of follow-ups before he is all done. 

Poor baby

 

All of this work has resulted in what we call “Mom Mondays.”  After his appointments (which are, obviously, scheduled on Mondays), he and I curl up on the couch with a drool cup while we wait for the swelling to go down and the laughing gas to wear off.  Usually we watch TV and snuggle…. And we talk a lot.  Of course, he talks without opening and closing his mouth and without swallowing anything that has gathered there, so I have to be a bit of a detective to figure out what he’s saying!

I have to treasure these moments, because I know that after a few hours, he will be back to normal, rough and tumble and loud and crazy.  And way too busy to talk to me.

When Micah and I have our talks lately, we chat about school starting in a couple of weeks (he is so not excited), the trips we are going to take the rest of this year, and of course, talk often turns to baby.

 

Now, if I haven’t been clear enough on this subject, let me just reiterate that Prince Micah was perfectly comfortable in his position as the only child in Spalding Manor, and the thought of this new little creature is really cramping his style.  Micah has never been a big fan of babies in general, much less one that is poised to stink up his house and steal chunks of Mom and Dad’s attention.

So every so often, Micah will pipe up with quips like this:

“You know, you can’t sing any of the songs you sang to me to the baby.  Those songs are mine.  You’ll have to think of new ones.”’

“The baby can’t get anything more expensive than me, because I’m older.”

“I don’t think Santa should even bring the baby anything for Christmas because he won’t even be able to open anything.  He’ll just stare at it… and probably drool on it.”

I’m really hoping he warms up to the idea of having a baby brother, but I kind of understand where he’s coming from.  Jay and I had eight years of marriage before Micah came along, and though we prayed and longed for him, he pretty much turned our pretty little marriage on its head!  I imagine that’s how it will be for him.  Eight years as the only child, and then BAM! - enter this Martian baby who will turn everything upside down!  Still, I hope and pray that there will be some moment when he will look down at his baby brother and feel some love – or at least tolerance – for him.

In the meantime, we are doing all we can to ensure him that he is loved and treasured, no matter what.  Very early in the pregnancy, when we had explained to Micah that the doctor had fixed Mom’s broken belly and a baby was a possibility, Micah said, “You just can’t love the baby more than me.”

 

 

I replied, “Micah, I waited for you my whole life, I could never love anyone the same way I love you.”

He thought for a minute and said, “Well, if I promise to never tell the baby, can you love me just a little bit more?”

I thought for a minute.  I could say, “Micah, I will love you both the same amount.  You’re both my children.  I won’t have any favorites.”

But I didn’t.

I smiled and said, “Absolutely.  But you can never, ever tell the baby, or I’ll deny the whole thing!”

Eating for Two?

When I found out on my 34^th birthday that after nearly 14 years of trying, I had gone and gotten good and pregnant, Jay and I sat down and decided that, with the exception of a handful of very close friends, we would keep the news quiet until the end of the first trimester.  So I have not been able to share via this blog all the fun turns and twists that occurred those precious first few weeks, so I thought I’d give you a little recap here and there.

 

 

I did pretty well at keeping things under wraps in the beginning. Opting out of dangerous activities (like practically repelling down a steep hill to stand by a river at Youth Councils!)? – well, everyone knows I’m a wimp anyway.  Not eating deli meat?  Watching my sodium.   No caffeine?  I’d given it up for Lent and it was just working so well for me!  Crying at the drop of a hat?  Well, that’s nothing new. Tired all the time?  Have you met my Micah?

I think we made it through the first three months without too much speculation.  The hardest thing to hide was the fact that for about a month of that time, I was pretty sick (for those of you Mommas who dealt with morning sickness for many months, I salute you!).  Certain foods, certain smells, and oddly enough, certain noises, sent me running for the bathroom.  Once, someone brought sauerkraut to a covered dish luncheon, and I disappeared into the Ladies for nearly the rest of the day.  No one seemed to notice.

At my very sickest point, I packed my bags and headed for a women’s retreat.

Now, let me preface this by saying that the combination of no soda, morning sickness, and complete fear in early pregnancy to eat anything unhealthy (totally over that.  Just polished off a nutty bar!) had me losing 22 pounds by the beginning of month #3.   I was, in fact, at my lowest weight in nearly a decade.

So, I’m sitting in the auditorium at this women’s retreat, waiting for the program to start.  The young lady in front of me, whom I have never met, turns around and starts telling me about her tremendous weight loss.  I smile and nod as I hear her tell her story… until she says this to me.  “Yeah, I lost like 115 pounds!  I was about your size when I started.”

First of all, in my defense, if I subtracted 115 pounds from my weight, what remains would be a healthy eight-year-old.  And an eight-year-old, she was not. 

I don’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or the fact that I’d just deposited that night’s dinner into the latrine, but I nearly lunged over the row and attacked that poor girl.  At a Christian Women’s Retreat.  (Wouldn’t that have been an awesome story?)

The next day, Saturday, also known as the single sickest day of my adult life, I was on duty to assist with breakfast.  Basically, I had to be in the dining room at 7:00 a.m., greet people, and help clear tables.  This sounds simple enough.  Except that I was extraordinarily nauseous, and the smell of massive amounts of egg filled the room.  I just stood there frozen like a smiling, green statue.  It was the first time someone asked me if I was feeling sick.

My disastrous attempt to eat breakfast that morning resulted in no attempt to eat lunch, so when an afternoon snack was served, I was actually hungry.  I went up to the table to get my snack, and saw the most amazing thing.  My absolute favorite – red, white, and blue cookies (In case you’re not familiar, they are cranberry, blueberry, white chocolate, and glorious). And they were still warm.

I took one, and enjoyed one delicious nibble before someone walked by me and, referencing a previous diet I had been trying, said, “Hmm.  Guess you’re back on carbs.”

See?  This is the argument for telling people you’re pregnant.  So you don’t kill them when they accidentally say something stupid.

 Later than night, I had to be in a play and go out on stage and make people laugh.  Thankfully, my belly would calm a little when I was on stage (this baby likes the spotlight) so I made it through fine (no thanks to the trays of food that a very sweet girl had brought us…. Pulled pork sliders… normally tasty… this day?  Ugh).

Funny enough, the only meal I was able to keep down that weekend was a plate of French toast, consumed at 1:30 a.m. from the greasiest, grossest diner I’ve ever been to.  What can I say?  This baby knows what it wants!

These days I’m feeling much better.  And my appetite has definitely returned, even if some days I only want green olives and deviled eggs!  And I dare you to say something about it! 

J

Whoa, Baby!

My blog has been noticeably quiet the last several weeks.  And for good reason.  Because this is what has been on my mind:

Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant! Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant! Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant! Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant! Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant! Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant! Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant!Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant! Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant! Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant! Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant! Ohmygoodness I’m pregnant!

And let’s face it, that’s not interesting reading for anyone.

Though Jay and I decided to keep the pregnancy quiet until we made it to the second trimester, I couldn’t even carry on a conversation with someone without fearing that the news might explode out of my mouth.  After all, it’s news I’ve been dreaming of sharing for 14 years.

14 years.  I was 20 years old when my husband and I looked at each other and said, “Let’s make a baby.”  I thank God all the time that things never worked out the way we’d hoped or else we’d never have decided to build our family through adoption, and we wouldn’t have our first miracle – our Micah.  He is worth every moment of pain, worth every single tear.

But fast forward several years, and we felt that old familiar nagging in our hearts again.  As Micah got older, the more I felt a longing to have another baby and to give him a sibling (even though he really didn’t want one!), but as the years progressed, the less I believed it would ever really happen. 

Last year we decided to  seek some assistance(not for the first time) and give it one more good try before we sailed into old age.  I kept my hopes low, made a lot of sarcastic comments, and made sure my glass stayed half empty.  Sometimes it’s easier to guard your heart against disappointment. 

Something changed for me one month though.  We were four months into the process, and I was sitting in the doctor’s office, waiting for longer than usual as my doc finished up with another patient.  I was looking at the calendar on the wall and realized that my next appointment would logically be scheduled for the following Tuesday, when we were supposed to be in Branson on a family vacation.  I knew from experience that it was a hassle to have to reschedule an appointment, so I whispered a quick prayer that my appointment would be scheduled for that Thursday instead since we’d be home by then.  And then I sat and waited some more.  My phone was several feet away in my purse and I wasn’t willing to jump up in my oh-so-flattering paper gown to get it, so I just closed my eyes and sang in my head.  A few praise songs came to mind, and before I knew it, I was just having me a little Jesus time right there in the office.  For some reason, my cynicism kind of fell away, and I mouthed these words, “Jesus, please let me know you’re still in this with us.” 

As I continued to sit and wait for the doc to come in for my exam, I prayed a very specific prayer.  My ultrasounds always seemed to reveal the same thing – a less than impressive almost-mature egg.  So I decided to pray for a really good already-mature egg.  And since I still had to sit there for 15 more minutes, I went ahead and prayed for two eggs.

 

When my doctor came in, she did my exam (aren’t you glad I spare SOME details?) and said, “Well, girl, you have two beautiful eggs* this month.”  And just because my God is so good, she added, “I will see you next Thursday.”

 

I continued this throughout the month, praying specifically for certain blood tests and hormone levels, and each and every time, God came through.  I remember telling Jay (because I’m a pessimist), “I don’t think it’s going to work this month, but I love this feeling that God is on our side.”

 

Well, it just so happened that the day for my pregnancy test fell on March 27^th, my 34^th birthday.  My senior group at church had thrown me a surprise birthday party that day, and I was sitting with them, calling BINGO when the call came.  I missed it.  My always-chipper nurse (seriously, she gives bad news in such an upbeat way that it doesn’t occur to you to be sad) left a message to call her back.  I did and left her a message.  She called me again while I was visiting with someone bringing me a birthday gift.  She left a message to call her again and have her paged. 

 

I shut my office door, took a deep breath, and called.  She said simply, “Would you like some good news for your birthday?”

 

I couldn’t believe it.  I knelt right down on my office floor and cried out to my God, who does things in His perfect time.  I was bursting with joy that day… and since really.  (Okay, so I’ve also had days of pretty terrible sickness and shocking exhaustion, but still… joy!). 

 

Truthfully, I’m still quite nervous about things going smoothly these next six months.  And I sometimes get so overwhelmed about starting all over after 8 years that you’d almost forget I actually prayed for this to happen! 

 

But when I hear the thundering sound of that miraculous heartbeat, or hear Micah talk about how he gets to boss the baby around because he’s older, or daydream with Jay about what this little one might look like, I pause and praise God that He heard my prayer, and long after I’d given up real hope, He reminded me that He is Lord of my life.

*Not to worry – two beautiful eggs will NOT be resulting in two beautiful babies!

 

 

 

 

 

Below the Line - Who's Hungry?

Did you know that there are well over a billion people in the world who live on the US equivalent of $1.50 per day?

Let’s just put that into some perspective….

The average starbucks coffee costs $3.50.  Can you live off of that alone for three days?

A value meal from McDonald’s cost $7.25.   Delicious, I’m sure, but will it hold you over for five days?

And if you want to really splurge and go for the Tour of Italy at Olive Garden… well, you just blew your food budget for nearly 12 days.  Good thing pasta is filling.

I don’t know that we can fully comprehend what extreme poverty is like.  Even those in the United States who are considered poor based on our federal poverty guidelines would be considered rather wealthy by the poor in developing countries. 

And those of us who fall in that huge expanse called middle class could not fathom the choices that some people have to make to survive.  During my last two week grocery shopping trip, I counted up, just out of curiosity, the things that Micah had asked for that I said yes to.  From ice cream sandwiches to special snacks for school, from lunchables to cutie oranges, from pricey breakfast cereal to a certain kind of juice boxes, he had weaseled me out of more than 60 bucks…. And my willpower was fairly strong that day.  What if he had to survive on less?  What if I had to?

A couple of weeks ago, Jay read something about a new campaign by the Global Poverty Project called Live Below the Line.  The challenge was to raise awareness (and money if you can) for world hunger by attempting to live off of $1.50 worth of food a day for five days (He didn’t read that part so he’s going for seven!).  Jay started right then comparison shopping, looking through advertisements, and making his grocery list for the week.

I thought I would share his experience in living below the line.

A few things to note up front –

First, the $1.50 that many in the world live on per day has to cover much more than food – it also has to pay for healthcare, shelter, education and transportation.  But this project is just to give people a taste of what it’s like to not have everything desired at your fingertips.

Secondly, those in developing countries don’t have the luxuries we enjoy like hopping in the car and heading off to a supercenter to pick up whatever might be on sale.  So this experiment in no way mimics the life that so many are forced to live, but it will get you to thinking!

Jay wanted Micah and I to go about our regular routine, so I went to the grocery Sunday night and got items for our breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and snacks.  I also picked up our vitamins, cleaning products, and toiletries.  I spent $149.32.

Jay, taking forever to shop, carefully made the following purchases –

One dozen eggs….. $1.88

Off-brand White bread (cheaper than wheat)…. $1.28

Jiffy Cornbread Mix…. $0.54

Pinto beans…. $1.38

Off brand sliced cheese (16 ct.) ….. $1.25

Package of bologna ….. $0.98

5 pks. of Ramen noodles…. $1.00

3 stalks of corn…. $0.45

White onion…. $0.51

Total: $9.27

Jay had $1.23 remaining and decided to keep that to “buy” condiments from our refrigerator and pantry (mustard, mayo, salt and pepper) when needed.  He carefully planned his meals (rationing what he has to last 7 days), and make him a jug of (can you imagine?) tap water!

Jay is currently at the end of day two of his project.  He has so far enjoyed such delicacies as bologna sandwiches, soup, and beans and cornbread.  While he has said that his meals have tasted fine, it’s been hard having no snack foods or fruit, he’s pretty sure the monotony of the food will get pretty boring soon, and he’s worried about the huge amount of sodium he has to eat every day.  He also mentioned that is has been a little difficult to stomach the white bread, which we haven't had in our house in over two years.

I know there have been moments when he has been hungry, but hasn’t wanted to dip into his limited supply, and there have definitely been times when I felt incredible guilt for eating my nice dinner in front of him (although remembering the countless times he has sat next to me, eating milk and cookies while I enjoyed apple slices, suddenly made me feel better!).

I will keep you posted on his progress, and should you feel so inclined to join him in living below the line, see the following website…

https://www.livebelowtheline.com/us-en-thechallenge

Kisses!