Shelton & Brandi

Hello! We're Brandi & Shelton Koskie. Since 2006 we’ve been one of the many couples on the In Vitro Fertilization journey. We were the first IVF fundraiser blog, and thanks to the generous help of many, in we had our first successful IVF attempt. Nine months later, we had a beautiful girl, Paisley. You’re invited to follow along on our journey from infertility to parenthood.  Learn more

Farewell Sandplum Circle

I hate how emotionally attached you can become to a house. Afterall, it’s just a house. But, I’m the girl who bawled when my dad sold my riding lawn mower in a garage sale in the 8th grade. I’d named him Wilbur and he’d belonged to my Great Grandpa Morehead. But it was JUST a lawn mower.

I haven’t stopped to do the math, but this move puts me up somewhere around 60 houses that I’ve lived in. Yes, 60. I’ve packed my things and moved them somewhere new no less than 60 times in my life. I’m a professional. This odd gypsy lifestyle is all I’ve really ever known. I don’t love it, but I don’t necessarily hate it.

What I do hate each and every time is the leaving. So many people have one or two homes in their lives. Their bedrooms may even still be peppered with mementos from high school at their parents’ house, along with a pencil-marked growth chart on the kitchen doorway. I don’t have that. I remember that I taught my brother to ride a bike in the second house we lived in in Tulsa. I remember that the three of us ran a mock post office during summer vacation in the house by the cemetery (oh yeah! there was one of those.) I found out I’d been accepted to OU in the house at the lake. Shelton asked me to marry him at our condo in Norman. I found out we couldn’t have a baby in the Victor house. And I found out I was actually carrying a baby in this house.

My memories are scattered to the winds. Maybe that’s why I write, or as Shelton thinks, retain just short of every memory in my life in odd and minute detail because I don’t have a house to walk in to to absorb a flood of memories.

Sandplum Circle will probably be more special than some of the others. I mean, I’ve practically forgotten we lived in that apartment on Webb. For one, it’s one of the places I’ve lived longest – 2 years and 2 months. More than any other this place actually felt like home. That’s probably because this is where my couple turned in to a family.

On July 14, 2009 Shelton and I woke one morning to a smattering of needles and jars of liquid hormones and stuck my belly for the first time. Our entire IVF treatment took place in the master bedroom of this house. Sixty-seven long, painful, nerve-wracking, hope-filled days ended with sitting on the sofa in our living room and hearing “You are absolutely, positively pregnant!” from M. This house is where I puttered around for nine months anxiously filling a nursery, obsessing over MORE SLEEPER GOWNS!, and where I brought my darling Paisley Joon home. I rocked her to sleep last night in her nursery one last time, and couldn’t get over how she once spanned the length of my chest, and last night her feet dangled over the arms of the rocker; and then she bid me “nigh-nigh!” as I closed her door. She sat in a bumbo on the kitchen counter and had her first bite of solid food. At eight months she took off from the fireplace and walked across the living room for the first time. And she stood on her tippy toes at the big dining room window to see the dogs in the neighbor’s backyard and learned to say puppies.

This was Paisley’s first home, and I hope it’s not the first of many for her.

This was a family home though. My sister and I both had our baby showers here, and we both celebrated our daughters’ first birthdays here. I made Ellie’s 1st birthday cake and Jenna made Paisley’s. This is also where I met my niece for the first time. We hosted the first all-Koskie gathering outside of Oklahoma here, and no one was worse for the wear.

It hasn’t always been easy living here – be it preparedness for showings or the haul across town to the east side – but it has been fun, and very memorable. If I hadn’t spent every dime (and more) to my name on Paisley, I’d probably have the cash to buy this place, and I probably would have. Honestly though, I’d rather have Paisley than put any house, anywhere, in my name.

When the next family moves in, the ghosts we’re leaving in these walls are really happy ones. I can only hope that the families before us in the Fountain house (build in 1927… there are a few!) left the same juju for us.

Dear Brandi: Month 360

Dear Brandi,

The time has come. Today you turn 30. Yeah, I said it. What?

If I were your shrink, I’d tell you why you’ve had so much anxiety about this birthday. It’s because you vividly remember the birthday party that was thrown for your dad when he turned 30. There were over the hill banners and candles, joke pills for old-people ailments, a wheelchair, diapers, and more. To a six-year-old, 30 was the end of the road. But now that you’re here, with 30 slapping you in the face, as you can see, it’s really just the beginning. Wouldn’t you agree?

You were given some great advice last winter from a woman who was on the cusp of turning 40, and she told you that the only thing she regretted about turning 30 was how much time she spent regretting turning 30. You never take advice, because you’re too stubborn and independent, but I’m proud of you for taking this little nugget. In the past six months, you’ve actually become less hesitant about your birthday, and have embraced all that lies ahead of you in the next ten years. That kind of wisdom can only come with age. Or a fuzzy wine induced state of delirium.

Your twenties were one hell of a ride, right? No other decade will likely bring as much change as this one did. You left home; went to and finished college (GO SOONERS!); met, fell in love with, and married your best friend; bought a house, then another; started a career; begged the Internet for money; had a baby with that money; ate sushi (and liked it).

If you had ever made one of those “where I’d like to be when I’m 30 lists” I don’t remember it. I know you talked about wanting three kids by the time you were 30, and let me tell you, getting one-third of your wish is more than enough. Seriously, that infertility thing did you guys a favor. Just think how tired you’d be… and how sexy you’d look in a minivan! I know you wanted to be happily married, and you nailed that one on the head. You wanted to have a successful career, and while that definition is certainly subjective, it fully meets your criteria. You wanted to have a boob lift, and as you can clearly see, that hasn’t worked out for you. Yet. (PS, put “make friends with a plastic surgeon” on your endless and stroke-inducing to-do list.)

What I’m getting at here is that you have an incredible life. Some might even say enviable. You might not take fancy vacations, have ever owned a brand new car, or feel the relief of a zero-balance credit card, but what you do have is more valuable than all of those things combined. You’re happy. You know by now that money does not buy that… that being happiness. It’s that intangible thing that every person on earth is chasing and you found it. At the tender age of 30.

If you’re as smart as you sometimes give yourself credit for, you will spend the next ten years continuing to do the things that you love, pursuing the things that make you happy, and filling the gaps with new. Yes, new, as in change, different, and unfamiliar. You will do more things that scare you, and live to tell the tales. You must make more time to do that ONE BIG THING that is begging to be done. Get off of Twitter, and Facebook, and Scrabble and just do it already. I think you’ll find it’s going to be one of the hardest things you’ve ever done and likely one of the most fulfilling. (Yes, to the rest of you that’s vague but Brandi knows exactly what I’m talking about.)

That THING will only be a notch or two less fulfilling than being Paisley’s mom. Can you believe that kid? And that she is YOURS? No single job you have is ever going to be as important, enlightening, pure, or dramatic as being her mother will be. She is going to break your heart, but don’t ever break hers. She is also going to fill it to a point of bursting, and you will need to make sure you do the same for her… often. I hope you’ll allow yourself to develop just enough patience that you can learn from her as much as she will from you.

Never stop being and doing all the things that make you, you. It gets old sometimes, but hopefully having the sense-of-humor of a 12-year-old boy will not tire any time soon. Sometimes that stupid stuff just needs to be noticed and laughed at. Embracing your curly hair is one of the smartest things you’ve ever done, followed only by your decisions to finally try (and love) cream cheese, avocados, rice, and bell peppers.

There’s a cheesy top-40 song (admit it, you love them) playing on the radio right now that says “It’s gonna be a good, good life.” And it is. Why wouldn’t it be? You’ve worked so incredibly hard to get yourself where you are, all with the goal of enjoying a good life. It may not always feel like “THE” good life, but it certainly “A” good life.

Don’t forget your 20s. I’ll even allow you to call them your roaring 20s. (get it?! haha) You spent that entire decade with Shelton and are better for it. You attended five Dave Matthews concerts, stood first row at a Counting Crows concert, and actually on stage for a Korn concert (you went through a phase, it’s OK). You had sushi with Jillian MIchaels, enjoyed dinner in Marc Cherry’s home, had the gall to ask Cedric the Entertainer to take a picture with you at LAX,  interviewed Donald Trump and Jimmy Fallon, and have made friends with a few incredibly inspiring Biggest Loser contestants. You’ve put your feet in both oceans and skied down mountains, and while you’ve yet to obtain the legal document that allows you to leave this island, you still have the brochure to a resort just outside of Fiji and I have no doubt that you will get there. You graduated from the University of Oklahoma with a bachelor’s degree, and have never felt more proud. You’ve made some of the best friends a girl could ask for, hung on to them tightly, and cleared out the cobwebs of those who didn’t quite make you a better person. You were told you couldn’t have a baby and you pretty much kicked that noise in the throat and pursued a relentless four-year fight to get her here. And she’s perfect! You’ve written for national publications and helped launch a formidable competitor in the health space. You became an aunt, a wife, a mom, an in-law, and according to NPR once, an expert. You’ve appeared on a national morning show, the front page of newspapers, national radio, in a published book, and as an endorser on a book jacket. You became quite an excellent cook.. why you ever eat at restaurants escapes me. You’re really good at it. (PS – seriously, give up on baking already.) You ran a half marathon in 3 hours and 12 minutes just 5.5 months after having a baby. You’ve still never learned math, but you’ve mastered Google and use Shelton on IM as a personal calculator. You were proposed to over cheddar bay biscuits and married in flip flops, and have built a marriage to be proud of. You have had a blast.

When we check in again at 40, I want to see another list that is as accomplished, positive, entertaining, and memorable. Just get that THING done, and get a passport already.

Brandi… this is the best life ever.


Dear Paisley: Month 14

Hey there funny little girl! Actually, silly, I call you silly girl quite a bit because lately that sums up your personality so much. You’re so playful and happy all (most) of the time. You make up funny little games, make funny little facial expressions, goofy little noises, and it’s pretty non-stop all day every day. We love it! In fact, can’t get enough of it.

You’re a twirler. We call it turning or spinning, but whatever you call it, you love to do it. Your daddy told me not too long ago “you used to dance all the time at random, but no so much any more.” I wish I weren’t so caught up in my own chaos to not let loose and just dance now and then. You aren’t caught up in anyone’s chaos, you just turn. You throw your right arm out across your chest and then follow its lead. You say “weee!” while doing it and never stop smiling. That’s one of those moments I wish I could put in a bottle so that one day, when the chaos does find you, I can say “Look… you used to turn and say wee because nothing else mattered. In that moment, that’s the only thing you cared about.”

I won’t even bother with the redundancy that your vocabulary is taking off, it took off a long time ago, and now we’re just trying to keep up. You walked up to Papa Kerry on a recent visit, stopped, pointed, and said “Paw-paw!” Kiddo, you made that man’s month! The name we somehow came up with for your blanket, “fuzzy,” you’ve adopted yourself. The earlier part of the month you started saying “see,” and then I realized it was the end of the word fuzzy. In the last week you’ve gone fully in to saying the entire word, and it’s darling. Your love affair with that blanket is second only to watermelon and your daddy’s shoes. When we ask you what color something is your answer, invariably, is yellow. I don’t care how red, blue, purple, or green something is, it is yellow. When I commented about this, your Great Grandma Rochelle said “Good Girl. Color the world to suit yourself.” I liked that a lot.

You’re starting to come up with sayings too, not just single words. My favorite are “nigh-nigh day-dee,” or “good night baby.” You pound the holy hell out of your little Curious George doll’s back as you try to mimic the way we put you down to sleep at night and tell you good night baby. It’s rather endearing and very funny. While you’ve been taking baths in the tub since you were about four weeks old, you have never said bath. But after taking quite well to our shower, you quickly learned the word and will take off running in to our bathroom, pry the shower doors open, and wiggle your hiney (another new funny word) hoping we’ll put you in it. You also say “I got you!” You little heartbreaker! It actually sounds like “got chu” something you learned from many games of chase where you always lose and don’t mind one bit.

Speaking of colors, that pristine baby white skin is gone, you’re now a suntanned summer baby. You are slathered in SPF 55 every time we walk out the door, so the good news is that you’ve never burned. Those pesky rays still find you and I won’t lie, I’m super envious of your complexion right now. Right down to the legs you never have to shave when you put on a swimsuit. And how your little buddah belly looks AAAAdorable in a swimsuit, and mine, well, let’s just say I wear a lot of sundresses.

You’re becoming quite the little water baby, which makes me happy! I’m (almost) 30 years old and something most people don’t know about me is I’m scared to death of pools, lakes, and other places full of hundreds of gallons of water where my feet can’t touch the bottom. I don’t want this for you. I want you to be comfortable in the water. We took you and Ellie to play in the Riverside fountains and you, at first, completely freaked out. But Grandma Lori and Ellie convinced you it was OK and you took to it so well you were trying to drink out of the sprays of water. We’ve been to two pools and you loved both, but prefer to be held versus placed in a floating device. Get a cocktail and an air mattress and your mind will change!

Then, there was the road trip, something I named #TripOfDoom. Seriously, I’ve told the story in full detail so many times that I don’t think I can muster the strength to do it again. Also, I don’t want my blood pressure to spike. In short, you and I took off from OKC one fine Saturday morning to spend four days in Dallas with Ada and Christie. Our first road trip together. Our first trip without daddy. We were having a freaking fantastic time! An hour and a half into the trip you passed out, and I said thank you to the universe because it would be smooth sailing the rest of the way. Then, our radiator exploded. We were stuck on the side of the road for an hour and a half, in 90-something degree heat, a toothless tow truck driver arrived and regaled me with a story of his daughter’s cherry (no lie), and then we took the car to the Ardmore Walmart … where it stayed for seven days. Seven long, frustrating, losing-my-cool, very expensive days. A car rental and one thousand dollars later the car went home. Some other stuff happened in between, but again with the blood pressure and wanting to one day be around to fight with you about prom dresses.

You put on your big girl panties this month. Another one of those bittersweet milestones. No more bottles. I was afraid to do it, you love your bottle. A bottle, fuzzy, and a mommy or daddy and you are in snooze city. One Saturday morning I brought you a sippy cup. I will probably not ever forget the look on your face. If you could have cussed at me, I believe the sentiment would have been along the lines of “WTF MOM!” In short, you were not impressed. You cried. You cried so hard and it broke my heart. But you were too hungry from 11 hours of fasting to argue the point much more than that, and so you placed the spout into your mouth and cried between sucks until you finally realized it was the same milk. The next few mornings went about the same until I finally felt it was safe to put your bottles in a Target bag and throw them in the “baby stuff box.” I’m more impressed that you haven’t sloshed milk all over yourself and us in the process. You’re a tidy sipper.

As we celebrate your 14th month, we also celebrate the five-year anniversary of I can’t tell you hard it is to believe that five years have passed since all of this started. One day I will tell you the whole story, if you don’t find it on the Internet first (which, by the way, is where I’d prefer you learn about sex, drugs, and math). When I tell you, I will cry. I’ll probably cry a lot. But they will be happy tears. Without this site, I honestly don’t know if we’d have you yet. A lot, A LOT, of people made you possible. I write these letters to you every month because I want you to hear my voice and how I remember this amazing time with you. But it’s also a small way for me to give back to the hundreds of people who played big and small roles in making you a reality, by letting them peek in at our life with you.

I say it every month, but every month it’s more true than the last, I’m having so much fun with you!

I love you so much, bug!


Dear Paisley: Month 13

I’d better hurry up and write this before my fleeting memory fully escapes me. We’ve already blown right through your 13th month and are well in to your 14th. This age, 1-year old, is the best! I’m eating it up and loving every minute.

You are such a happy, agreeable, playful baby! How did we get so lucky? Even when you are “at your worst” I rarely threaten to abandon you and/or give you away. Your worst really isn’t that bad. I haven’t ever seen a tantrum, although a few of your dramatic crying fits were teetering on the edge.

Your vocabulary is just exploding! You’ll repeat nearly anything we say, and if you can’t quite grasp it you’ll “hum” the syllable cadence. Your first color is yellow, which surprisingly comes out very clear, something like “yeh-yo.” You can identify several body parts, calling them by name, including eyes, elbows, knees, ears, and hair. Water, crackers and bottle are the only foods you call by name, although you’re working hard on bagel, the staple of your morning routine. But “Eat!” you’ve gone down pat. You usually belligerently scream it at us.

I am loving watching your imagination grow. It’s amazing to me that at such a young age you’re already pretending, without any guidance whatsoever on the concept. You say “nigh nigh day-dee” when you pretend to put your baby (a Curious George doll) to sleep, and pound its poor back, trying to gently pat it. You have a tea pot set and you’ll bring the cups to me to fill each one, and then take it to daddy and you’ll each slurp up the invisible beverage; you’ll also have me pour the spout right in your mouth and you always go “Mmmm!”.

You’ve found a few of your very own hidey holes. One is behind a chair next to the wall, and you’ll stand in the apex of the V between the two, poke your face as far through as possible and wait for our faces to appear on the other side. You also like to crawl under the end table where we store your toy basket in the living room and sit cross-legged playing with your piano, dolls, books, or whatever else is under there.

Time outs have become a more regular occurrence, but you’re honestly so well behaved and that they are rarely put in to action. You fully understand what they are, and when you tell me “no no” to a request more than twice I ask “do you want to go to time out?” and you generally correct yourself. When you don’t, it’s off to the corner we go. It’s hard as hell not to laugh! Correction, it’s hard as hell not to let you see me laughing. It’s equally the funniest and most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever witnessed. You will throw your head back and wail, screaming “maaamaaaaa,” with big alligator tears streaming down your face, and ever few seconds you’ll inch further and further away from the corner. I always ask you to come to me so we can discuss what happen, and finish it with a kiss.

You’re becoming more particular about food. You’re pretty much a vegetarian at this point, refusing any chicken, pork, or beef that I’ve offered you. Once in a while you’ll take me up on a bite of fish, but otherwise it’s fruits, veggies, grains, and vegetarian protein, like black beans, cheese, yogurt, and of course milk. Your love of watermelon knows no bounds, and really the only fruit you’ll turn up your nose at is a banana. If you don’t like something, you very clearly say “no” and shake your head. If you like something, God save the man who gets in your way as your tiny fists shovel food in your mouth as fast as you can. You’ve started showing more interest, and skill, in feeding yourself with a fork or spoon, so daddy and I have tried to be better about ignoring the mess and letting you at it.

We also met up with Paul last month to take your one-year pictures. You were quite the ham for us, being quite the trooper as we made our way around the OU football stadium to take a picture in front of the section 1 sign, and then over to Reaves Park in Norman. However, the cake frosting hit the fan, if you know what I mean, when we attempted to make you take a picture with a birthday cake. You would have thought it was hot lava with a monster face on it the way you reacted. Thirty minutes of non-stop, tear-soaked wailing delivered not a single happy picture but plenty of you having what we’ll chock up to you first full blown panic attack. Seriously kid? It’s cake. If someone forced me to sit next to a double layer cake and devour it without any consequences… I’d cry if you tried to stop me.

I love you bug!


Dear Paisley: Month 12

Happy 1st Birthday, Paisley Joon!

You have no idea how unreal those words are to me. To actually say them outloud, and to celebrate the event, seems impossible. But, even having you here at all once seemed impossible. So, your lesson of the day, nothing is impossible.

On the morning of your birthday, daddy and I congratulated each other on making it. And a deserved congratulations to you too, surviving the two idiots fumbling our way through keeping you alive. (PS, you’ve made it farther than any plant I’ve ever owned.) Of course, your birthday was doubly special, since you share with daddy. 31 and 1, you’re a little set.

We spent your actual birthday doing what we do every Wednesday… working. I was just heartsick that day. All I wanted was to snuggle you, but instead I had to interview castaway Biggest Loser contestants and tweet, and other very important things I do. You played with Jessica and Ellie all day, after I let you splurge on a watermelon-only breakfast! For dinner, you and I got dressed up and had a birthday dinner at Yia Yia’s, where you enjoyed whipped sweet potatoes and roasted chicken. And goldfish crackers.

The real party was April 30, and we had about two dozen friends and family join us for lunch, cake, and presents. You were surprisingly cooperative; I feared the crowd would overwhelm you, but you rolled with it. You were very involved with the opening of your presents. And when it came time for the cake smash, you were your usual dainty self, picking up a little frosting and eating it (Aunt Jenna and Aunt LaRenda made the most amazing watermelon cakes). Then, I smooshed your hand in to the cake and, well, that was the end of that little miss waterworks!

Having an entire year worth of months to look back on now, I can say for certain that 11 months was my favorite age. You’ve always had personality, but it’s on full display now. You have definite moods, tones in your voice, and are growing more particular about what you do and don’t like. With this, it seems your vocabulary grows exponentially each day. By your first birthday you could say more than two dozen words:
bye bye
no no
thank you
go go go
joon joon
see it (re: books)
la la la
all done
please (signed)
more (signed)

You are very playful and very funny. You greet daddy at the door after work and point to and say “shoes!” This is his signal to remove the shoes so you can begin “tickle tickle”-ing his toes. He feigns a hearty laugh so that you think you’re really getting him. (PS you’re obsessed with shoes! Obsessed!) You love to play chase and don’t mind be the chaser or the chasee. You’re pretty fast about it. You love to be held in our arms and throw yourself backward – all you’re missing is a bungee cord. You enjoy play kiss games – kissing us over and over and over again, making little fish-lip faces to let us know you’re ready for a kiss, or you pop-pop-pop your lips together (this is especially adorable when you do it throughout the grocery store).

We celebrated your first Easter the weekend before your first birthday. The night before we attended an Easter egg hunt at Grandma Lori’s church. It was a big crowd with quite a few kids and the rough grass sticking in to your ADORABLE pink flower sandals was less than favorable for you. You finally got the hang of collecting the candy out of the grass and putting it in your little basket. I felt no shame in snatching every Twix I could find. The next morning, we found that the Easter bunny had scattered eggs all over our backyard! What a surprise to wake up too! That bunny knows how healthy we are, so he obliged by filling the eggs with organic fruit snacks and quarters. We had a big breakfast with daddy, jenna/eric/ellie, and grandpa jerry/pam. Then, you and Ellie grabbed your baskets and collected all of the eggs. You were convinced they were balls (“ball! ball!”), which I encouraged because it just fueled your desire to pick them up and put in your basket.

We’ve officially celebrated all of the holidays with you, and your birthday, and are wrapping up your first year with a very tear-soaked pink ribbon. I’ve never loved anyone or anything more, Paisley Joon. I used to “yeah yeah yeah” my parents when they’d tell me the same, but it’s so true. You are everything I ever wanted, even when I had no idea what it really was I was wanting. If you could drink, I’d raise a glass and say “Cheers! We both survived!”, but you can’t (yet, we’ll wait until at least your 14th birthday). So, I’ll say that I couldn’t be more excited to see what year two is going to bring us, and that I’m anxious to watch you discover so much more about the world around you.

I love you bug-


I Tweeted My Daughter’s Birth

I’d told a few friends leading up to Paisley’s delivery day that I was going to tweet the entire birth. They didn’t believe me. Just like they didn’t believe I was going to start a web site, ask for money, and talk about my ovaries. I’m a believable girl!

I just thought it would be fun to keep everyone posted on the goings on of the day. And because my Twitter automatically updates my Facebook status, many other friends and family, like my grandma, who couldn’t be at the hospital, we’re able to follow along, play-by-play.

What I realized the next morning is that I’d inadvertently given myself a priceless gift – a transcript of the day. The next morning, while Shelton and our hours-old baby slept, I went through my phone reliving the day one tweet at a time. There had already been moments I’d forgotten, and the chronology of the day was completely out of order in my head. I wish this were a complete thread; we only started tweeting a couple hours in to the morning when friends requested a dedicated hashtag (#PaisleyJoon was born). I also don’t have any of Shelton’s tweets, nor the many, many replies with cheers, encouragement, and blessings. But I do have most of my tweets, and it’s something I treasure.

In light of Paisley’s first birthday being tomorrow, I thought it was fitting to clean up the list and republish it to share here.

(Note: all times are PST, add two hours for local time.)

Wishing my @Skoskie the happiest 30th birthday!! We’ll have to rain check that sushi lunch my love.

Filling out epic amounts of paper medical history. Seriously get some #EHR. ( ie @pulseehr) 5:53 AM Apr 27th

Mmmm breakfast! Virgin snocone. 6:03 AM Apr 27th

Started the petocin. 6:36 AM Apr 27th

Broke my water. At a three. Fetal monitor in place. 7:23 AM Apr 27th

Damn these contractions are not cool. 8:18 AM Apr 27th

Ps I’m starrrrrrving!!! 8:19 AM Apr 27th

Wow. Getting her into the bathroom and back is quite the logistical undertaking. (via @skoskie) 8:52 AM Apr 27th

Resident checked me at a SEVEN but second opinion still says three. Getting pain meds. 9:02 AM Apr 27th

I don’t want to fill out your stupid birth plan. Get baby out alive, that my plan. I dt care if u make eye contact or if I hv piture water. 9:09 AM Apr 27th

Ahhhhh yeah. Thank you for the newbane(?). Pain meds are niiiice. 9:32 AM Apr 27th

That was a big contraction. 9:50 AM Apr 27th

Shelton is so proud of his signs. 10:07 AM Apr 27th

#paisleyjoon will be our hash for birth watch, or whatever we are calling this @jeremysanchez @bowlerjim 10:44 AM Apr 27th

Dilated 3.5 #paisleyjoon 10:45 AM Apr 27th

Babys heart rate has dropped to 70 couple times. She is ok seems to be when I chg positions. Precaution did epidural. #paisleyjoon 12:03 PM Apr 27th

Really hard decide to do epidural. Few tears. Procedure was brutal!!!! @skoskie was amazing. Now I’m trap bed and numb. #paisleyjoon 12:05 PM Apr 27th

Dilated 4. #paisleyjoon 12:06 PM Apr 27th

Took a mini nap after kicked out all the fam. ;) felt good. #paisleyjoon 1:02 PM Apr 27th

Heart drop again. So scary but no one concern bc isolated incidents. #paisleyjoon 1:04 PM Apr 27th

Kegal with epidural.. Odd, funny, impossible. Lol!! #paisleyjoon 1:08 PM Apr 27th

Dilated 5. Dreaming of chicken strips from pumphouse. #paisleyjoon 1:23 PM Apr 27th

The only reason I know contracts bc monitor. Feel nothing. They look big Makes sad bc they weren’t that terrible. #paisleyjoon 1:30 PM Apr 27th

4:15 I was six. 5:00 I’m nine. #paisleyjoon 2:56 PM Apr 27th

I’m a ten. Talk to you when I’m a mom. ( tears) #paisleyjoon 3:10 PM Apr 27th

Introducing Paisley Joon Koskie!!! Perfectly healthy. 7lb 7oz 18″ at 7:05pm. #paisleyjoon 5:42 PM Apr 27th