Friday, May 3, 2013

six months

our bean turned six months old exactly one week ago.

wow.

there is so much i could say about that, but what's struck me most of all recently is the power of "the small picture".

we talk about "the big picture" all the time. and i, for one, think about it all the time. in a mother's world, it goes by the name "mommy guilt"; that constant, nagging conviction that, whatever you happen to be doing at the time, that thing is never the right thing. if i opt to spend time helping my girl practice sitting/standing/crawling, or some other physical activity, i feel guilty for not having spent that time reading to her, playing classical music, or otherwise tending to her developing brain. or even worse, having chosen one of the previous two courses of action, i end up kicking myself for not doing some valuable bonding instead - "skin-to-skin", snuggling, talking... seriously, the opportunities for guilt are endless.

it's taken me about six months, but i think i've finally got it. sortta. part of it, at least. i've finally sortta got part of this thing called motherhood, and it's called the small picture.

that small picture looks like a small person, and that small person looks something like this.




while i'm scrambling to find the most cerebrally-stimulating baby book, hoping that someday, she'll be a straight-A student; struggling to steady her into a semi-standing position, unfailingly optimistic that inevitably, she will skip the crawling stage and glide straight into her first steps; clasping her dripping skin to mine after her bath, telling myself that now she'll feel a super tight bond with me, right?... all the while, as i'm focusing on the big picture and her big future, my little girl is staring up at me with those big eyes, telling me that i am her big picture


at that moment. in this moment. in these moments of her childhood. 

if i can slow down and take a break from trying to cram in all these activities that are meant to cultivate her "big picture" - if i can pause my "how am i affecting her future" mechanism long enough to ask myself, "how am i affecting her present?"... then i think i've sortta finally got it. 

sure, i want my girl to have a bright future. but i want her to have a bright present too.

it's not fair how much i love her. 

it's not fair that i drop her off at my mom's, go to work, and get sad that i won't see her until i come back at lunch to nurse her a whopping four hours later. 

it's not fair that i put her to bed, crawl into mine, and start to miss her.

l

a

m

e

.

but not really.

let me take off my philosopher's cap long enough to tell you a little bit about the last six months. or, to be more precise, a little bit about our girl. 

i'll do this in the best way i know how: bullet-style.

- you can't keep sophie down. literally. the girl announced herself in true sophie-style as early as her eight week sonogram. the doc couldn't even make out her legs, she was already kicking them so fast. her heart rate was high, and as early as 13 weeks, i could feel her barreling around inside me. i've got the videos to prove it, and she hasn't stopped since!


- this girl is E-MO-TION-AL! neither bry nor i wants to take credit, but i think we're secretly both to blame. whether you've looked at her the wrong way or sucker punched her in the face, it matters not. you're getting the banshee treatment. 

- in the words of the labor and delivery nurse, "she has LUNGS!" (see previous bullet)

- she isn't always graceful...


- she has one dimple on each cheek.


- her favorite songs are "you are my sunshine" and "little talks" by of monsters and men. oh, and the NCIS theme song.

- she has 2 teeth on the bottom, which she got at just 3 months.


- cutest. biggest. smile. ever.


- she desperately wants to talk and, no matter how sleepy she is, insists on being "where the people are"

- despite having so much energy, she is still our little philo-sopher (get it?). she is very attentive and will bore a hole into your soul with those eyes, trying to figure out what you're saying.



- she's a night owl.

- she has some great facial expressions.




- she's just learning to sit up.


she is just my favorite thing.






happy six months, baby girl...

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

sophie so far: a birth story

wow. i can't believe it's been 4 months since her birth and 5 since i posted anything at all. this space definitely deserves some love.

you know how the longer you put something off, the more you stress over it and worry that it's not gonna turn out the way you want? that's exactly how i've been about writing this post. i've been putting all this pressure on myself to make it THE perfect post to end all posts because, after all, this is the birth of my first child we're talking about. but it's been so long now, there are so many things i could say, not to mention the fact that we've taken SO many pictures (seriously, have you SEEN my facebook and/or instagram posts?), how am i even going to begin to decide which stories to tell and which photos to use?? that's what i've been thinking. and it's been stressing me out.

so i've decided not to think at all and just to WRITE.

=).

so here goes.

the morning of friday, october 26th started out like any other. we got up around 5:45 and i did not prepare bryan's breakfast or lunch, just as i always didn't do ever since i hit somewhere around the 6 month mark (ok, so it was way before the 6 month mark). bryan showered and as he was getting ready to leave, i complained that these DARN braxton-hicks contractions were getting a bit obnoxious since they were getting increasingly painful but still nowhere close to being regular. just more discomfort STILL without the long-awaited outcome of labor. because obviously i wasn't in labor. obviously.

i was in labor.

literally about 2 minutes after bryan walked out the door, around 6:30 AM, while i was in the shower, i suddenly heard a POP (an actual POP), and BOOM, my water broke.

can i just pause for a minute to say that no one ever told me (not my doctor, the baby books or even my weekly pregnancy emails)

1) that it is possible to be in labor without having regular contractions

2) that it is possible to actually HEAR you water breaking (i seriously thought something might be wrong)

may i also say, how LUCKY was i that this just happened to take place in the shower?? not only that, i was actually DONE showering, i was just hanging around to let the warm water run over my aching belly.

this last thought actually took the time to occur to me as i was getting out of the shower, grabbing wildly for a towel, and stumbled to my phone to call bryan.

"turn around, my water just broke."
"ok, making a u-turn now."
"thanks, bye."

that was the extent of our conversation. as i went about getting dressed and texting everyone who needed to know, i marveled at how calmly and efficiently i was proceeding. it was a lot like my wedding day. one of those days where you expect to be a complete and utter MESS, yet somehow you end up being very in the moment and in control. i had just awaken from a full night's sleep. i'd just showered. my hospital bags were already packed, and now i was ready to eat breakfast while i waited for bryan. it was a little too perfect. in hindsight, i think maybe God was trying to make up for what he was about to do to me when i got to the hospital since i'd already been in labor for several hours without having the slightest idea.

bryan got home and was wonderful. he called my mom (my text hadn't woken her up) and the doctor, who said that yes, we should come to the hospital, but to take our time. "dr.a" was the one on call at the time. i thought, "ok, not my first choice, but i've heard good things about him. let's do this!" then dr.a tells us that his shift is about to end and that "dr.b" would be on call once we arrived. my heart sank.

i am not dr.b's biggest fan. i'd gotten the feeling in my appointments with him that he was the sort of man who told you exactly what you wanted to hear, which automatically made me skeptical. everything was "absolutely perfect" and "the best i've ever seen".

i should give a little more background.

my birth (meaning, my mother's birthing of me) was a traumatic one. literally. that's an actual medical term, "traumatic birth". this means that when i was born, there were issues. apparently my mom had a narrow pelvis, which the doctors weren't able to determine before she went into labor. this caused problems. like, pry-me-out-with-forceps, took-my-mom-weeks-to-recover, had-to-have-a-c-section-the-next-3-times-like-she-shoulda-had-with-me problems.

so from the beginning, i was worried that my mother's pelvis had weasled its way into her half of my gene pool. a c-section was my greatest fear, and an episiotomy was a close second. from the beginning, i asked my docs about this. while the others pretty much told me that we wouldn't know for sure what kind of birth experience i would have until i actually went into labor, dr.b was unfailingly optimistic. why was i worried about needing a c-section, dr.b asked. i had "great birthing hips", dr.b said. there was "no chance" i would need an episiotomy, dr.b said.

we'll come back to that.

i don't remember much about the drive to the hospital other than what bryan captured on film, which was pretty much him saying, "what're you doing in the car at 7:30 on a friday??" to which i respond, "havin' a baby, i guess!"

we made it to the hospital, where bryan snapped a pic of the "labor and delivery" sign and posted it as our "hint hint" to the world.





we checked in and were escorted to triage, where a very nice nurse asked me whether i would like an epidural "now".

thank God i said yes. because i was about to learn that "now" meant roughly 2 hours from actual now.

we were taken to the delivery room, where i immediately demanded makeup, which my mother provided. naturally, everyone was laughing at me, but i know my husband, and i knew i was about to be in a LOT of pictures. besides, this was the specialist of special occasions i could imagine and i had time to kill. putting on makeup seemed the furthest thing from strange.





for about an hour i continued having increasingly painful, though far from unbearable, contractions.

then the REAL contractions started. and by "REAL" contractions, i'm referring to a 3rd thing no one ever told me about:

3) while initial labor pains do indeed feel like "intense menstrual cramps", the ones that come further along feel nothing like that. not in my case anyway.

and

4) i don't care what "the business of being born" says... the "REAL" contractions do NOT only come "right-before-you're-about-to-push-and-labor-is-almost-over-anyway". at least not in my case.

i spent about an hour in this other-worldy kind of pain that i'm not even gonna bother trying to describe since it's really not comparable to anything i can think of. all i could do was lie there. bryan kept asking if i wanted to watch something or play cards, something to get my mind off of the pain. but i couldn't move. i couldn't even open my eyes. any kind of movement, even crying, only made it hurt more.

i remember (hehe, this is funny) being SUPER dramatic about it and like, weakly raising a dying hand to bryan and whispering (because it hurt to speak any louder), "tell them i can't do this anymore... i can't do this anymore... go find them... i need it NOW." and bryan being like, "WHAT? WHY ARE YOU WHISPERING?" and i was like, super annoyed that he was yelling and embarrassing me.

and then superman arrived.

i actually called the anesthesiologist a super hero to his face. the man must have a ginormous ego seeing as he literally pulls women out of hell for a living. unlike the doctor and nurses, who patiently waited for each contraction to pass before asking me any questions, mr. incredible had no time for such dilly-dallying. he had lives to save. i was lying there, moaning like some horribly maimed cat begging to be put down, and he was standing nonchalantly with his clipboard, prattling away.

"name? DOB? height? weight?"

i remember thinking that he seemed bored, and slightly annoyed that i was slowing him down by contracting in his presence, like i had saved up the particularly bad ones expressly for his arrival. i remember being irritated. but i was about to forgive him. big time.

as i sat up for the injection, bryan whispered, "omg, please can i take just one picture of you? like as a "before" shot? you look so miserable, it's kind of hilarious..." i would have kicked him in the face if i were anything other than paralyzed with agony. instead i offered him some choice words.

but epidurals are magic, and soon we were like this:


i probably would've forgiven hitler if he'd walked in, let alone my "papa"razzi hubby.

my mental state was so strange. looking back, i think i was so busy focusing on not having a panic attack (i have a nasty history of those), that i didn't feel particularly excited or scared or anything else that i'd expected to feel. all i felt was strangely calm. i spent pretty much the entire time sitting up - by the way, get ready for the 5th thing no one ever told me -

5) sitting up = not the best idea when you're in labor cuz all the blood goes right to your pelvis and swells everything up and then the doc will make you lie down for an extra hour or two before you can push so that the swelling goes down.

so like i said, i spent most of the time sitting up with my eyes closed, focusing on breathing. i felt bad for bryan. i think he felt like he never got to do his job of distracting me with shows and games he had downloaded onto the ipad, the deck of cards, the birthing playlist he'd made especially for this event. i never asked for the stress balls i'd brought to grab onto during the bad contractions (i found that his pinky finger was perfectly suitable for crushing with my bare hands in those crucial moments) or any of the other host of crap i'd crammed into our bags. i didn't even want him to talk to me for the most part. i lay there breathing and he sat there watching me breathe. poor guy.

he really was wonderful.

as the hours passed, i kept waiting for someone to ask whether i had a birth plan, which i did. it was nicely typed up - 4 copies so that all the nurses and the doctor would be sure to get one. eventually it became clear that no one was going to ask whether i had one, much less request a copy in writing. i think i realized this after being informed that i would be receiving pitocin now, without being asked what i thought about it. i was so caught off guard by the 6th thing no one ever told me...

(6) pitocin isn't just used to induce labor, but also to regulate contractions that persist in being irregular)

... that all i could say was, "do i have to have it?" the nurse told me that yes, i had to have it, in an annoyed tone that dared me to keep questioning her. i mentally added her to the list of not my favorite people.

dr.b came in and told my family to feel free to go home for a bit since it would be at least 2 hours before i started pushing and another 3-4 hours of pushing after that before the baby would arrive on scene. my mom stuck around but my dad headed home to do some work.

about an hour later, i threw up, which sounds gross and unnecessary, but the nurses recognized it as a common sign that it was time to start pushing. so they called dr.b back in to check on my progress.

after checking me, he confirmed that i was already almost far enough along to start pushing! before i could get excited though, "but i just don't think this baby is going to fit. we should probably just go ahead and schedule a c-section."

BOOM.

bombshell.

w...

t...

f...?????

"but... but..." i sputtered, "you said it wouldn't be a problem, that everything was absolutely perfect, are you sure??"

"yes, you have very narrow hips and i think it would be best."

so much for those great birthing hips he couldn't stop telling me about before.

"well, i mean, can i at least TRY pushing?"

dr.b blinked slowly, like he didn't quite understand.

"do you WANT to?"

"why, do you think i shouldn't?"

dr.b shrugged. "i don't not want you to. i just don't think it's going to work."

"well, i'd really like to try before ruling it out."

"let's wait and make that call when it's time to push, ok?"

as soon as he was out of the room i burst into tears. thank goodness for the nurses, who came back in and, on hearing what dr.b had just told me, declared him out of his mind and told me i had to try pushing.

not long after, i started feeling like i could push (it was never an "overwhelming urge" like the books said, which was nice). dr.b was brought back in and asked if i still wanted to try pushing.

"absolutely."

"ok then. go ahead and push as hard as you can for ten seconds." and for ten seconds, i focused all my energy on very actively NOT wanting a c-section. i pushed, literally, for a normal birth with all my might.

after ten seconds, dr.b raised both his eyebrows. he stood up.

"well, you've just shown me that you can move that baby." he looked at the nurse. "she's ready to push. i'll see you in a few hours."

i can't even tell you how relieved i was. i cried again, and bryan kissed me and told me how proud he was of me for sticking to my guns.

the nurse smiled at me. "ok, let's do this! you're gonna show him!" i mentally promoted her to my list of people i kinda like.

the next 20 minutes were insane. and i mean insanely easy. and FAST. although i could feel everything i was doing, i was in absolutely no pain, and that child seemed to be soaring out of me. with each push, she came barreling forward at an amazing rate.

the nurses were so excited. "your wife is AMAZING!" the nurse said to bryan, as she reached for the phone and said, "tell dr.b to get back in here, this baby is coming NOW."

indeed she was. dr.b barely made it back in there in time. "look, mom!" he said, trying to get me to observe her head protruding from my body.

no thanks.

"i don't want to" i said without opening my eyes. show me the baby when she was ALL out, thanks very much. i was in the ZONE.

after a grand total of 30 minutes' pushing (during which time dr.b slyly slipped in an episiotomy when he thought no one was watching), bryan suddenly gasped, "look, baby!" (still not sure whether that was direct address or an observation) and dr.b, "you're not gonna get to see this again!" i heard the nurse exclaim two or three times, "she's a big girl!" and remember wondering, "omg, how big??" and opened my eyes just in time to see sophie catherine rosenthal, all 8 lbs, 1 oz of her, sliding into the world.

i wish i could say she was the most beautiful thing i'd ever seen.


that's when i learned, without realizing it, the 6th thing no one had told me:

6) less than 50% of women feel that "instant bond" and "overwhelming love" the first time they lay eyes on their newborn.

honestly, i don't blame them. she looked like a lagoon creature and was shrieking and writhing as though she were being stabbed in the eyeball. i had planned to take her instantly into my arms, do the whole skin to skin thing, i'd even planned what my first words to her would be. instead, in a very unromantic moment, as she was being dangled over me, i thought, "eeeeewwwww...." and could only cup her head in one of my hands and say, "hi, baby..."

luckily, my husband is a talented photographer and you'd never know it by looking at these photos of that moment =).



the nurse stopped commenting on her size and began commenting on her voice, repeating, "she has lungs!" indeed she did (that hasn't changed, by the way). while they were cleaning her up and doing whatever it is they do on that table under that bright light, she never stopped. i mean, she was LOUD.

but then the sweetest thing happened. dr.b said, "dad, get over there!" and bryan, realizing that "dad" meant him, left my side and was at hers within seconds. he bent over her and through my daze i started to hear, "hey there, sophers, it's me, daddy. do you remember me? do you remember my voice?"


apparently she did. almost the instant he began talking, she stopped. like, stopped. i heard this adorable little whimper, and suddenly, i wanted her. i wanted to save her from those poking, prodding nurses and those bright lights and that cold metal.

they brought her to me and i held her for the first time. as she handed her to me, the nurse whispered excitedly, "she has dimples on both cheeks!" i remember being so happy to hear that. she had quieted down and was looking directly at me with these huge black eyes that she kept blinking slowly in the light. i cupped my hand over her forehead to shade them and we stared at each other. i remember her fingers poking out from under her baggy sleeve and she kept curling and uncurling them very slowly and deliberately around my thumb while she observed me.

i remember thinking how much she looked like bryan and wondering whether she would ever look like me at all (she doesn't).




bryan joined us and, just like that, we were a family.


bryan enjoys remembering how dr.b got emotional and apologized for trying to get me to schedule a c-section. "i've never seen anything like that" he kept saying. "i really didn't think you were gonna be able to do it... and i've never seen anyone push a baby out in 30 minutes their first time!"

the rest of our stay is a blur of family, nursing, sleeping-ish, more screaming (from her, not me), aches and pains and lots of tylenol with codeine (episiotomies are no joke, man). i'm happy to say there was also lots of that skin to skin time after she had been cleaned up, and we spent several happy hours sleeping-ish that way.

i'll never forget that first round of skin-to-skin. in an effort to stress the importance of this kind of interaction, the hispanic nurse pressed sophie's little body firmly against mine and, still holding her there, looked me in the eyes and insisted, "thees ees all she knows." and right then, i got it.

i was a mother.




i remember that hurricane sandy was about to hit and so bryan's fam went out and bought us tons of bottled water (which, incidentally, is still under the crib in the nursery) and flashlights (funny how those are the 2 random things you want in an emergency). i thought how exciting it was to be bringing home a baby in a hurricane.

the ride home from the hospital. we call this her little old man face.

i could spend another lifetime writing about what comes after all this, but this is a birth story, not a coming-home-and-learning-to-keep-a-baby-alive story. suffice it to say that there have been a lot of ups, downs, love, laughter, sleepless nights, postpardum depression, post-postpardum depression happiness and bonding, long showers, SVU reruns, baptism, first thanksgiving, first christmas, bottle feedings, bottle rejections, blown out diapers, dimply smiles, kickytime baths, roll overs, first giggles, doctor's appointments, family morning snuggle sessions in bed, little tummies, little noses, love, love, LOVE, and two teeth. yes, by god, she got two teeth last month.

this really does go by too fast.

i'll close with a million of those photos i told you i'd have an impossible time picking out.






























and that's how our bean got borned =)



Wednesday, October 3, 2012

hope

before we get started... HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!! i love you much, thank you for everything you've done for me over the years and continue to do for me/us now that i'm all grown up. you're going to be a great grandma (eventually... once your grandkids have kids... heh heh).

*                

wow, hard to believe it's been almost an entire month since the last post! shame on me. actually, i only feel a little guilty, because, after all, i am pretty pregnant these days. 36 weeks, 4 days to be exact. talk about hard to believe. i guess that's a good place to start as far as updates go. as many of you know, i was all worried for a while about the fact that, at my 33 week OB exam, the baby was decidedly sideways in the womb and, despite my best efforts (making bryan try and "talk the baby down", shining a flashlight on my belly, doing all kinds of crazy inversions and stretches), (s)he apparently had every intention of staying sideways. i started calling him/her our "still stubbornly sideways" little one.

HOWEVER, i was beyond excited to learn at my 36 week appointment that baby had turned!! turns out (pun totally intended), our little one is, well, really little (but perfectly healthy), and just hadn't reached the point where (s)he was running out of room and had to turn. in the wise words of my doc, "you're just a little lady with a little baby." but, he went on to tell me, (s)he is doing "really fantastic".

ohhhh, i hope (s)he comes soon. and at the same time, i hope (s)he doesn't. because i'm so excited, but i'm also so terrified. i hope i hope i hope.

=)

bryan's OH clan threw us a really amazing baby shower last month (september 8th, to be exact) complete with a really amazing cake that you'd never in your life believe was homemade by auntie sarah. but more on that once i'm able to snag the photos from the hubby.

<3

man, if i thought being pregnant was getting to be a drag (yes, i said it, and i'm not ashamed! i am so over being pregnant. as wonderful as i know the payoff is going to be, i think i'm ready for that payoff now, thanks very much), i should've thought about how much worse it would be to be pregnant and sick. which i am. right now. and for the past week-plus. i guess this bug is making its way around and some people have been stuck with it for up to two weeks, and i guess that i'm likely to be "some people". let me tell you, it's hard enough to breathe with a small child crowding your lungs, nevermind trying to do so whilst also having super stuffy sinuses. NOT FUN!

thankfully, bryan is amazing and keeps making me soup and replentishing my stash of nyquil and cough drops.

*

the weekend before last, i had the honor and privilege of going on the annual people of praise women's retreat. as with every year, there are so many things i could say about the weekend, but i'll do my best to be concise.

i was really inspired and just overall PUMPED listening to what charlie and carmen fraga had to say about the church and christian community today. most of their material was actually gleaned from recent studies/books, etc. by various christian leaders (one of which i'm reading now and LOVE, but i'll get to that in a sec). the overarching theme, if you will, was seeking to answer the question, "if salt loses its saltiness, what is it good for?" charlie talked about the temptation many christians experience to sort of hole up in a safe place together away from everyone else. because that is so easy to do! but if we do that, if we lose sight of the fact that christ sent us out into the world, what are WE good for?

to use one of charlie's examples, what good is a light if you only shine it in places where there is already plenty of light? no good at all. a light can only serve its purpose by being shone in dark places. places we'd rather not go.

but that's exactly what christ called us to do in the very beginning. to be a light to the nations. the salt of the earth.

one of the books charlie and carmen referenced is called the forgotten ways by alan hirsch. in his research into the effectiveness (or more accurately, ineffectiveness) of evangelical christianity in the west today, he estimated that, in a given area of the country, several churches will be competing for about 10% of the local population. that is to say, the part of the population with whom the rest of the congregation is comfortable relating. middle class, white collar, "family values", conservative... you get the idea. hirsch found that whenever a church reports growth in the size of its congregation, the vast majority of that growth comes from "switchers", or people who are simply switching over from one congregation to another, as opposed to new christians. so in essence, churches in the west are simply shuffling and competing for the same 10% of the population.

*disclaimer: i realize i've provided no actual data, but if you read the book, i promise you there are lots of graphs and charts and other research-y things that are all very thorough and scientific and do a much better job than i would of breaking all that down*

but is our goal, either as churches or christian communities, simply to grow in numbers? no! our primary calling is not to get more people to join this church or that church, or this or that community, whichever one we happen to belong to. our primary calling is to introduce more people to christ. period.

so what about that other 90%? what about the people we're NOT comfortable relating with? and for that matter, why aren't we comfortable relating with them? all this got me thinking, of course, about my own role in this whole little problem...

why don't i relate with very many people who are not like me? specifically, with non-christians?

well, aside from the fact that i just don't come across many non-christians in my day-to-day life (after all, i work at christians in commerce), i had to admit that i am also afraid. don't get me wrong, i have lots of non-christian family members and friends whom i love. but even in these relationships, i find myself secretly hoping that the whole faith topic never comes up.

why am i afraid?

this one took longer to answer. i remember someone getting up at a people of praise meeting and asking that same question: "why are we afraid to explain our faith? no one seems to be afraid to question it."

i think, when it comes down to it, that i am afraid i won't know what to say. i think all of us are naturally terrified of misrepresenting those things/people that are most dear to us, because we care so much about them. also, being raised with the whole "turn the other cheek" mentality doesn't exactly make us comfortable with confrontation or debate. not that we should abandon that mentality by any means, we just have to work at these things a little more and strive to understand the difference between turning the other cheek and turning a blind eye. humility and self-denial are often good solutions, but simply ignoring something never is.

i came away with the conclusion that i need to make a better effort to always be prepared to give an answer to anyone who asks you the reason for your hope (1 peter 3:15). because if i don't have an answer, i'm going to continue avoiding people who might ask me for one, and if i continue avoiding those people, i'll never have to give an answer, and thus be unprepared. it's a vicious cycle, folks.

it occurs to me that i ought to give that answer here, now. but the truth is, i haven't prepared it yet. my testimony (because that's what we're talking about really). but i'm working on it, and i hope you all will hold me accountable for getting it together sooner rather than later.

after all, just a little over 3 weeks from now, not-so-stubbornly-sideways little one will be arriving on the scene, and someday (s)he will want to know the reason for my hope.

what's yours?