~~~~~

April 24th, 2013

As I sit here and look at my beautiful 3 week old baby girl and think that today, May 14^th, is my original due date, I can’t imagine these past 3 weeks without her…

It all started on Monday April 22^nd.   I went in for a regular weekly checkup, and my blood pressure was very elevated.  The doctors had been monitoring my blood pressure throughout my pregnancy and it was fine through most of the pregnancy.  However during the last month, it was progressively getting higher at every appointment.  That Monday it was really high, so they moved me to high-risk pregnancy and scheduled some tests to check on my baby girl.

Tuesday April 23rd I had a non-stress test and an ultrasound.  The baby performed wonderfully during the non-stress test so I was feeling good going into the ultrasound.  But the ultrasound didn’t go as planned… My amniotic fluid was really low and then they checked her weight.  She was smaller than they thought she should have been at this point.  The doctor said that at this stage, 37 weeks, she would be healthier out than in so they sent me straight up to be induced.  I immediately broke down….this wasn’t in my plans!!… So while my mother tried to get a hold of my husband, I tried to pull myself together to go have this baby girl!

By 4 o’clock that afternoon I was being checked into a high-risk delivery room.  By 4:30 they were inserting a dose of cervidil into me to start to soften my cervix.   At this point I was barely 1 cm dilated and I knew I had a long night ahead of me.

At 10 pm Tuesday night the doctors were back to check on me…. Only one and half cm dilated… So they inserted another dose of cervidil.  All the while I’m hooked up to monitors and have my blood pressure checked every hour to make sure baby girl and I are still doing good.

2 am Wednesday morning the doctors were back in …In my head I’m thinking please, please, please, let me be at least 3 cm.. Unfortunately, that was not in the cards.  I was just barely 2 cm and I mean just barely… And boy was I tired at this point and hadn’t even started real labor.

So the doctors had to make a call- do they insert a balloon in my cervix to help soften and dilate or do they just start me on pitocin? Neither option I liked but I didn’t have much choice- I just wanted my baby girl out safely.

They choose to begin the pitocin…so by 3 am I was checking into a labor and delivery room, and immediately started doing some of my yoga moves… I needed to relax! Once they had me hooked to up an IV and the pitocin started…It was another waiting game.  I continued to do yoga stretches and just tried to stay relaxed.  My contractions had definitely started to kick in but they were manageable.  Every half hour the nurses were in to check my blood pressure and to increase the dosage of pitocin.  At 6 am the doctors came in again to check my progress…and I was only 3 cm.  At this point they broke my water to get things moving AND that worked…the contractions kicked in full force…coming on fast and strong.  My contractions were so strong I kept thinking I can’t do this natural I’m going to need an epidural.  They had given me a narcotic to help ease the pain, but to be honest it didn’t even touch the pain I was in.  My contractions were about 2 min. apart and lasting about a min and a half, I was only getting about 30 sec. rest in-between, which wasn’t enough to even catch my breath.  My husband was wonderful throughout all this I wouldn’t have made it without him…he was my strength.

I am not sure how much time had passed, felt like no time at all but I was yelling to my nurse, who was wonderful as well, that I needed to push.  She called the doctor to get the ok to check me and before I knew it she was telling me that if I needed to push go ahead because I was 10cm and full effacement.  There was no time for an epidural now, which was great cause that’s what I had wanted all along!!  By 8:20 am Lillian Hazel Kiefer was born at 4lbs 10oz and 17 ½ inches long!  And as my husband likes to tell it, when she came out the doctor spun her to unwrap the cord around her and she unfolded like a flower!

I’m not sure that I’ve ever caught a smile on a baby only a few hours old!

************

Finnley (Finn) Collin Younkin was born on February 13, 2013 at Miami Valley Hospital in Dayton, Ohio in their Family Beginnings unit, which is the only birth center within a hospital in Ohio.  His birth amazed me. Labor with my first baby, Ella, had been long and hard, and I was terrified to go into labor again.  This first experience shaped my reaction to Finn’s birth.  A week before Finn was born, I saw this verse (Psalm 34:4) on the background of my sister’s phone: “I sought the Lord, and he answered me.  He delivered me from all my fears.”  I thought, “That’s it, Lord.  I need you to deliver me from my fears as I deliver this baby.”

I had a lot of Braxton hicks that felt more like contractions in the weeks leading up to the birth.  I was 8 days overdue, and the doctor had told me on my last visit that we would have to induce soon if you didn’t come on your own.  I didn’t want that to happen so I walked a lot to try to go into labor.  I took laps around Superwalmart with my friend, Catherine, and then laps around Sam’s club while my husband, Mike, watched Ella.

Then on 2/12, I started having painful contractions (but I could still do everything normally) at 11am.  At the time, I was at the library working.  I went to lunch with my husband, father-in-law, and Ella and had contractions all through lunch.  At noon I texted my mom and my doula, Nora, saying, “Contractions every 10-15 minutes for the last hour…not strong but could be the start of something.”  Ella went home with Gary and Mike because they had to work on my car, and I went back to the library to finish grading.  I promised myself I would leave the library by 3pm because I wanted to take Ella to the playground.  When I got home, though, she was taking a nap so I took our dog, Shar, for a walk.  It was a cold but sunny day.

My dear friend, Pam, came over that night and brought meatball subs for dinner—so yummy.  I told her that the doctor must have scared me into labor.  We ate dinner, and then Ella and Mia played for hours while I had irregular contractions.  Sometimes they were 8 minutes apart, sometimes 4 minutes.  The girls were so funny.  They got out Ella’s potty chair at one point and both took turns practicing going potty (neither actually went), but there were two little naked girls in my living room.  I called my doula, Nora, to explain that I was having contractions closer together than before.  She said that it was not a good sign that there was no regular pattern to the contractions—that it could mean that this could go on for a while (like days).  I was disappointed but resigned myself to the idea that labor could take a long time like it had the first time.  Pam went home, and I cleaned up around the kitchen and dining room.

Soon, my contractions became stronger, and I told Mike that I had to concentrate on them.  He went to put Ella to bed.  I took a shower and did my best to stay quiet even though the pain was making me want to cry.  I realized that the contractions were 5-6 minutes apart at that point, but I was confused because they were short (about 15-20 seconds long).  I got out of the shower and sat on the exercise ball for 10 more contractions.  My mom called to ask how I was doing.  I told her the contractions were intense but short and that I was still trying to go to sleep for the night because I knew I needed sleep (this is how much I still thought that labor was going to take forever!).  Soon after I talked to her, the contractions became longer.  At this point, I couldn’t help but moan and groan through them, and I was worried about Ella hearing me.  I called mom again and cried saying that the pain was already too intense, and I just wanted to go to the hospital to get an epidural.  I told her I felt like a wimp, but this was more than I could handle already.  She told me to call the midwives and see what they say.  I called and talked to Lisa, who was on call.  She told me to come in and be checked, and she asked me if I was a Family Beginnings patient.  I said I was, but I was scared.  She asked me what I was scared of, and I said “All this pain”.  I told her I would come in soon, though.

I went to get Mike.  Ella wasn’t asleep yet so she got up and talked to me.  I cried and paced through the kitchen, and she held my hand as we paced.  After each contraction was over, she said as she pointed to a stool in the dining room, “Sit down, mommy”.  She was a great little midwife.  Mike loaded the back of the car with comfy blankets and heated up the hot pack for me so I had something for pain relief during the 1 hour and 20 minute drive to the hospital.  Mike’s dad, Gary, came over to sit with Ella so we could leave.  In the car, I sat in the back where Mike had put the seat down in the middle of a heap of a down comforter.  It hurt too bad to lie down at all so I just sat there facing the back of the car with the heat pack on my hips.  Through each contraction, I would moan and cry and talk about how awful it was.  Then when each contraction was over, I would talk to Mike about how I was surely overreacting.  He would assure me once again that this was truly labor because it was only 2.5 minutes in between each contraction.  Through the whole process I was so confused because it had taken almost a week to have a baby when I was in labor with Ella.  I couldn’t understand how my contractions could already be this strong.  I was convinced that I just didn’t remember how bad contractions were.  I talked to my mom on the phone, and I talked to my dad.  He asked me if I was ok, and I told him I was but that I was having a baby.  He told me not to worry and that once I got to the hospital, they would help me there.

We arrived, and mom met me in the parking lot.  We walked in, signed in at the registration desk and then headed upstairs.  I couldn’t stand still, and I did my best to be quiet, but the contractions were so strong.  Upstairs, I went to triage.  They checked the baby’s heart rate and said it was good.  Then she checked to see how dilated I was but told Mike and my mom instead of me.  I worried out loud that my labor had slowed down, and they were going to send me home because I wasn’t far enough along.  Soon another contraction would come, and mom said, “I thought you said your labor had slowed down.”  The triage nurse was really sweet and told me she could take breaks doing whatever she was doing to me so that I could walk through contractions.  She was 8 months pregnant with her first baby herself and both mom and I asked her at different times without knowing that the other had asked, “How do you handle being around all these laboring women?!”  She just laughed.  I told her that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be in Family Beginnings because I was pretty sure that I wanted an epidural.  As soon as I would say that, though, I would stop and explain how nervous I was about getting an epidural and having it stop my labor like it did with my first.

Someone decided that I would start in Family Beginnings and took me to meet Martha, who became my labor and delivery nurse.  She walked down the hall with me.  At one point, she mentioned that I couldn’t get in the tub yet because I wasn’t far enough along.  I said, “Oh no, that means I’m not even at 5 cm” (because I had gotten in the tub at 5cm with my first labor).  She laughed and told me that I was 3 cm dilated.  I thought, “Oh my goodness, this is going to be a long night.”   Soon we were in the room where I would have the baby.

I remembered that during the first delivery, I had said mean things to several people so I apologized to her ahead of time.  I had been saying, “God” during several contractions, and I looked at her and said, “I don’t even cuss.”  She said, “Oh, no, don’t worry about it.  I had a pastor’s wife in here last week, and she was throwing the F bomb around left and right.”  Mom, Mike, and I laughed, and that also made me feel better.  Each contraction was horrible, and through each one, I asked for an epidural.  I told Mike over and over again that I was serious—that I really thought we should move and get the epidural.  Martha offered me pain medicine, and mom encouraged me to take it.  I asked if it meant that I couldn’t get an epidural if I took it.  They told me I could still get an epidural.  Then I worried that it wouldn’t even help and that I would be putting medicine into my baby for no reason.  I took it, though, and although the contractions still hurt like crazy, I was able to fall asleep between them.  Mom said that for the 2.5 minutes in between the contractions, I would even snore.  Then another one would come, I would stand up, grab Mike’s arms and talk about how horrible this was and how we should probably go get an epidural now.  In my mind, I figured that this could still go on for hours and hours because of the first labor.  Another good thing that the pain medicine did was help me not anticipate the pain of the next contraction.  I cared a lot less about the pain than I had before.

Soon (2.5 hours later), Martha said that she wanted to check me.  I was at 8 cm.  8 cm!!!  What?!  That’s when I realized I was having a baby—when it all became real. J  I thought, “No wonder this was all hurting so much—look at how much changing my body just did in a short period of time.”  There wasn’t a lot of time to think about that, though, because soon after that I was asking for a trash can because it was time to throw up.  By this time, my sisters were all at the hospital, but they were in the waiting area outside of the room.  Raychel said that she heard me throw up, and she thought it was over because she knows how much I hate throwing up.  She thought for sure I would be giving up and heading to get the epidural at that point.  I found out later that when mom had called to tell her that I was going to the hospital she asked if she should even come because it had taken so long the first time.  Mom kept saying, “No, really, Raychel.  I think the baby’s coming soon.”  At that point, I found out that mom was pleading for them to move me to get the epidural.  She explained, “No, really, she doesn’t want to feel everything when it’s time to push.  She really does want the epidural.”  Martha explained that if we moved now, they would start the epidural, but it wouldn’t work in time for me to push the baby out.  Also, I would be in a new environment, and I wouldn’t be comfortable, and it would be awful.  She told my mom that they just had to make me feel safe and that nothing bad would happen to me, and I would be able to deliver the baby.  She also said that getting in the water at this point would be like getting an epidural.  While all of this was happening, I was telling Mike over and over again how bad I wanted the epidural.  At this point, I started to say with each contraction, “Why is no one doing anything? I told you I didn’t want to go through this contraction.  I don’t want to go through another one.  Why is no one getting me an epidural?”  Mike used to say something encouraging to me when I would say something like that, but it got to the point that I would look at him, and he was giving me this sort of blank stare.  That’s when I realized that I wasn’t getting an epidural—that I would have to walk through one of my biggest fears—pushing a baby out and feeling the whole thing.  I had a meltdown soon after that realization.  They put me in the shower and started to fill up the tub, and I cried about how no one was listening to me.  After that meltdown, though, I stopped asking for an epidural, and Mike told me later that I seemed pretty calm.

I got in the water, and I held onto bars on either side of me.  This was the craziest part of the experience.  In Ina May’s book, she explains that contractions can feel like you are attached to the front of a speeding train.  You can’t stop them, and you just have to ride and try not to be afraid.  I felt like that during the last 10 or so contractions.  The last few before it was time to push were so intense that I couldn’t even moan through them.  I just had this jaw-dropped look on my face and thought, “This is the craziest and most intense feeling ever.”  I asked Martha if anything bad would happen if I pushed—if my cervix would swell (Because that had also happened to me during the first labor).  Martha said, “Oh, no, your cervix is so thin.”  Does anyone else know how good that news is when you’re in labor?  Oh, it was like music to my ears.  When I went through the last contraction before it was time to push, though, I yelled so loud.  Somehow the midwife knew what that sound meant because she told me it was time to push.  Mike got in the water and held me.  Mom was in front of me holding my hand.  I heard her say that it felt like I was breaking her hand.  I pushed and pushed for what they told me later was about an hour.  I was scared at times that I couldn’t push the baby out.  It seemed and felt impossible.  I kept telling everyone how much it hurt.  I’m not sure why I kept saying that because it’s not like they forgot. J  Martha said to me at one point, “I can do all things through Christ…”  It was as if I had forgotten that verse, and it meant so much to me at that point.  “Of course,” I thought, “Why am I worried?  I can do all things through Christ…”  And then I was off to push through the next contraction.  Raychel said at one point, “I see ears.”  I responded, “Oh, ears!”   I was so happy to hear that—it meant that his head was almost out!  I thought it could still be a while, but on the next push, the baby was on my chest!  I exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, he’s here!  We just had a baby!  Mike, can you believe we just had a baby!”  I also said, “Awww, he’s little.”  The midwife quickly corrected me, “He is NOT little.”  I laughed and said, “Oh, ok.”  We had a beautiful, healthy, baby boy.  His name means, “Victorious Warrior”.  It fits already because God gave me victory over my fears.

Love, Melanie and Kelly.

~~~~~

Throughout the second half of my pregnancy, when we found out I had a two vessel umbilical cord, Nick and I were anxious about the growth and health of our baby girl.  At 33 weeks, I needed to go to twice weekly testing to check the amniotic fluid levels, the stress level of the baby and growth scans.  She always looked good, was growing on track and was never under stress but  the thought of something potentially going “wrong” with our growing baby made Nick and I especially anxious for her arrival.  We were told that if around week 36 the levels were low we’d probably just go ahead and induce labor to get her out where she would be safer.  So, with every visit we thought, okay, this could be it. At my normal 38 week appointment we were in for a growth scan, just to make sure the baby was growing on track and were told she hadn’t gained an ounce in 2 weeks- that she measured the exact same (5 lbs 5 ounces) as she had two weeks previous- hence was deemed failure to thrive.  Sitting in that ultrasound room with Nick waiting for the tech to come back from speaking with our doctor I became terrified.  Is the baby okay? Why hasn’t she grown in 2 weeks? Are we having the baby today then?  I was sent to triage where my doctor would meet us and talk about what was going to happen.  She was amazing and put so much of my anxiety at ease.  She told us to go home for a few hours, come back after you’ve gotten everything at home squared away and we’ll have this baby.  I was overwhelmed and the tears started coming.  My doctor was so wonderful and reassured us that the baby was fine, it was just time.  The next 4 hours at home were beyond bizarre.  We did some laundry, and straightened up, made sure we had everything in the hospital bag that we’d need and ate some lunch.  We were giddy and scared and happy and excited and a whole other slew of emotions I’m not even sure I know how to articulate.  We were having our baby!

~~~~~

I debated whether to write a post about my birth experience and these early days with my son. Given how personal I make this blog, it seemed like a no-brainer to share this story with all of you. But now, two weeks after Dean’s arrival, I feel compelled to share it for another reason: I had a fabulous birth experience. And I want women—especially expecting moms—to know about it.

Why? Because, in those final weeks of pregnancy, I let myself get caught up in negative stories about other women’s deliveries. How they had complications. Side effects from the drugs (if they even HAD the drugs…sheesh, what a controversial topic!). Or maybe a nurse who drove them nuts. By the time Nick and I arrived at the hospital, I had NO idea what to expect but, based on what I’d heard from others, I wasn’t exactly confident about what lay ahead of me.

We checked into the hospital at 5 o’clock on Monday, Oct. 22. No sooner did we drop our bags than the nurse handed me a hospital gown, told me to strip down, and climb into bed. Now, as someone who’d NEVER been a hospital patient before, it all felt surreal to be the one IN that reclining bed. (and to be laying there in a gown without a back — man, you are SO exposed in those!)

As we settled in, I gave Nick my camera to take a few photos — and gave him the thumbs-up to let him know I was ready for what was ahead (even though, deep down inside, I was scared too, having no idea what to expect.) Crazy to think this is the last photo of me taken while pregnant (have I mentioned how much I LOVE no longer being pregnant?) The nurse came in, hooked me up to the fetal monitor and inserted my IV (and thankfully put it in my arm–NOT my hand!). Then she gave me a drug (Cervidil) to get my cervix to cooperate (believe it or not, at 10 days past due, I STILL hadn’t dilated). The drug had to work overnight, so we tried to get as comfortable as we could for our first night’s stay. I had a milkshake for dinner (no solids by this point–which I’d worried about, but I had so little appetite by then, I never really minded) and Nick and I found ourselves watching the presidential debate. (Even though I’m not sure how much we were paying attention—we were so anxious and excited for what was to come!)

At around 5 a..m Tuesday morning (Oct. 23), my water broke. Here’s where things get fuzzy for me: I remember contractions coming regularly by about 7 a.m., and when the dayshift nurse came along (a sweet woman named Bea who would end up being there coaching me as I delivered my son), she started the pitocin. Ohhhh the pitocin. Very quickly the pain got very intense. What I remember of the next few hours involves clutching the side rail of the bed, holding tight to my husband’s hand, resting my forehead on his forehead, the relief of a hot rice pack placed across my back, thinking “This pain is about to get so much worse…” (And because I kept thinking this, when Bea asked what my pain level was on a 1-10 scale, I moaned, “I think it’s about a 4….” To which Nick answered, “Oh, it is SO much more than a 4!“)

At around 10 a.m. I was asked if I wanted drugs. I’d been open to the idea of an epidural my entire pregnancy (I didn’t come to the hospital with a birth plan of any kind, wanting to keep the experience as low-key as possible), so at this point, with the pitocin working its course, I was ready for something to manage the pain. The anesthesiologist came in to administer the epidural and as I slumped over a tray table, preparing for that needle to hurt like hell, I couldn’t believe it when I felt NOTHING. Well, not nothing. I felt a slight numbing sensation, a small prick of a needle, and a bit of probing as he inserted the line, but it was such a smooth process I couldn’t help thinking, “THAT’S what I got myself so worked up over?” Within minutes, my legs were going numb and the pain of the contractions was lessening.

Now here comes the best part: After I got my epidural, there was such instant relief, a wave of exhaustion passed over me and I was out like a light. Let me reiterate that in all caps: I SLEPT THROUGH SIX HOURS OF CONTRACTIONS. It was—plain and simple—amazing. And I’m convinced it gave me the rest I sorely needed for what was to come next.

By 5 o’clock, Bea checked me once more and told me I was ready to deliver. Here’s where a bout of nausea hit me and so I ended up throwing up (but because I’d had only ice chips for the past 24 hours, it wasn’t that big of a deal). Turns out your stomach stops digesting when you go into labor, so all that water had no place to go!

After that came 55 minutes of INTENSE pushing. Like, I thought capillaries in my eyeballs might explode kind of pushing. Looking back on that hour of hard work, I can’t imagine being in excruciating pain on top of pushing as if my life depended on it. (Hats off to those women who do all this natural!)

With my Type A personality, I remember the doctor and nurse and Nick (the latter two holding my legs for support at this point) coaching me, telling me, “You’re so close, Gail — you could get him on this push!” So I’d hold my breath and push. And push. And PUSSHHHHHHH. And then, when I knew he wasn’t coming that round, I’d think, “OK Gail, don’t disappoint them again — get him out on the next go-round!” (Isn’t that so ridiculous of me?!)

I don’t actually remember the moment Dean was born at 5:56 p.m. (it all feels like such a dream at this point), but I do remember seeing the nurse take him and begin drying him off, then carrying him over for the Apgar test and to be weighed and measured with Nick right there by his side. Minutes later, he was in my arms and all I could think was I was staring at the face of someone I’d just met and yet felt as if I’d known my entire life.

Over the next two hours, we stayed in the labor and delivery room while the doctor stitched me up and took care of me (here’s where I have to give a shout-out to my amazing ob-gyn, Dan Lopiccolo, who stayed past his 5 o’clock shift just to help me deliver Dean. I love him!). Because I had my heart set on breastfeeding and had been praying things would go well with it, I was thrilled that Dean took to my breast pretty quickly (though, in the 30 minutes it took for us to get that bond going, I remember being hot and sweaty, trying to stay calm, feeling so unsure of myself, thinking, “Please, please, PLEASE let this work!” And here we are, two weeks later, and he’s still breastfeeding like a champ, thank goodness!)

My parents were waiting for us as they wheeled me down to our recovery room (all while playing this plinky little lullaby over the PA system…which, being a bit emotional by this point, made me tear up. Hearing it at least 15 more times over the next 48 hours made me realize how many other women were welcoming babies into the world!)

We were fortunate to get our own private room which was BLISS. I will always remember that first night in the room with Dean (our hospital is a “baby friendly” hospital, where your infant stays in the room with you around the clock). Nick and I jumped at every little sound he made. I think I slept an hour total that night because I was still high on adrenaline and also, I kept leaning out of the bed to make sure he was still breathing in that little plastic bed of his!

The bleary-eyed look of two new parents who didn’t sleep for nearly 48 hours. Classic, right?

It was bittersweet to leave the hospital (once again, I teared up when I took him out of his little bed for the last time—it just felt so surreal to think, “You’re coming home with us now!”). But at the same time, Nick and I were so ready to sleep in our own beds. It’s true what other parents told us, there are SO many people in and out of your room 24/7 in the hospital, that you never really get a moment’s rest.

We live a mile from the hospital, so it was a short, sweet ride home on Thursday night (Oct. 25). We’d had that fluke, 80 degree weather that week, so we put the windows down to get some fresh air and I could smell leaves burning in our neighborhood and it felt like we’d been greeted by the last beautiful evening of fall. In that moment, I felt crazy happy to be starting a family with my husband and sweet new son.

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THE BIRTH STORY OF MAX VALENTINE

I wrote the first rendition of Max’s birth story when he was just a day old, but I wanted to also share a more specific timeline

of how things happened. Plus, now I have all of my amazing birth photos to match the story! Here’s how things went …

Wednesday, August 8th, 11:41 pm | texted my sister a picture of the headband I was sewing

Thursday, August 9th, 12:30 am | crawled into bed, feeling a little crampy, but nothing major

2:20 am | pretty sure my water broke, why I second guessed this, I’ll never know

2:37 am | pressure waves every 3 minutes and lasting 45 seconds so I texted my midwife

2:46 am | texted our doula and birth photographer

3:01 am | texting with my birth team about my progress, still using emoticons so I must have been feeling ok

3:04 am | woke up my mom to come be with Jemma

3:12 am | pressure waves every 2 minutes

3:39 am | Dominic is packing the car, I hop in the shower because I’m super uncomfortable

3:57 am | doula and birth photographer arrived, I was overwhelmed with how intense my contractions were and immediately

told them I didn’t think I could ride anywhere in the car. My doula told me I was in transition and I informed her there was

absolutely no way that was true.  Textbook transition I was also heard saying:

“They are coming so fast. I just can’t stay on top of them.” “This is not what I had planned!” “Dominic get me some water.”

And then, “Why is Dominic taking so long?” Apparently, I’m not the nicest laboring mama.

 4:21 am | reached down and slightly in maybe a few inches and definitely felt baby’s head, my baby was coming AND FAST

 4:34 am | head started crowning

 4:36 am | head is born, but not rotating (slight shoulder dystocia)

I move to McRobert’s position (on my back with knees pulled up to my ears)

 4:41 am | Max Valentine is born!  

Although, we didn’t officially name him until later that evening.

5:19 am | I cut the cord and deliver my placenta a few minutes later

 After all the birth business is done, Max and I wrap up in towels and blankets and snuggle on the bathroom floor. Our midwife

arrives shortly after and deem us both in perfect health! I still can’t believe Max came so fast that our midwife didn’t even

make it! Thank the Lord for our fabulous doula! I had a little stitching in my lady parts while Max had his newborn assessment.

Our sweet photographer snapped adorable newborn pictures of Mr. Max, our 10 pound, 4 ounce and 20.5 inch long handsome boy …

But most of all, I love this picture of our whole birth team; everyone who helped Max Valentine come earth side.

I’m indebted to these ladies (and my fabulous husband) for life!

My sweet Max,

 I love you to bits and am so happy we share such a wonderful birth story! It was definitely hard work, but holding you in my

arms that day and every day since has been worth it. Thank you so much for working with me to be born. All my little pep

talks must have paid off I love you to the moon and back and can’t wait to celebrate each August 9th in your honor. What

a special day it is and will always be. The day you came into my life.

Love forever, Mama

~~~~

NORA’S STORY

Nora’s story started back in May of 2010.  We knew that it would take some time to get pregnant since I have PCOS, so  Todd and I tried to get pregnant for almost a year and a half using fertility pills.  After an entire year we decided to take a break over the summer, and low and behold on September 9th 2011 we found out that we were pregnant!  My due date was May 14th 2012.  I was extremely sick for the first 17weeks and after that I felt great and was able to finally start enjoying my pregnancy, that was until week 25.

On February 1st, I woke up for a routine doctor visit that was scheduled for 10:30am for my glucose test. Nora was 25weeks 2days gestation. As I was getting ready that morning I started noticing some slight cramping, I didn’t think much of it and kept getting ready.  As I got in the car the cramps were getting a bit worse but I thought maybe they were braxton hicks.  I called Todd told him what I was feeling, told him I would run it by the OB but I was sure everything was fine and she would tell me it was all normal.  In the Dr appointment I told her, “ya know the only reason I am saying anything is because they are happening like every 15-20min.”  So she checked me and said, that my cervix was softening but was not dilated.  So she sent me home, told me to take it easy, drink lots of water, put my feet up and call her if I have more than 6-8 “cramps” in an hour.  Well I went home, and in the first hour I had 8… I totally tried to downplay them.  I was in such denial and terrified all at the same time.  I thought if I ignored them, surely they would go away.  I was on the phone for most of that hour with Todd, I told him I had had 8, but 2 I could barely feel so we wouldn’t count those <— idiot!   Thank God Todd knew better, he left work, told me to call the hospital and tell them we would be coming into triage.

By the time we had arrived in triage and I was checked it was 2:30pm and I was already 2cm dilated!!  WHAT???  I am pretty sure I went into panic mode at that point.  The Dr told me I had a slight UTI, he would put me on antibiotics for that, jack me up on Magnesium sulfate (worst crap ever!) and send me to the special care unit.  They did an ultra sound to make sure she was head down, which she was, and to check her weight.   They predicted her at being 1lb 14oz.  I could not even fathom what 1lb 14oz’s looked like…I mean seriously…a 1lb baby??   This is where my memory gets fuzzy and I have to rely on what my husband tells me happened.  At 6pm I got my first steroid shot for Nora’s lungs followed by my first dose of Mag.  When they gave me the mag it made me sooo sick and it caused me to basically black out.  The mag is a huge muscle relaxer, so I couldn’t move my arms, my legs, I couldn’t even barely lift my head.  Poor Todd, every time I had to puke he had to run over and completely sit me up.  The nurses told Todd that they had never seen someone react to mag as badly as I did.  They planned on giving me the first steroid shot at 6pm that night and then the second at 6pm the next night, then they realized they didn’t have that kind of time, so it turned into 6pm and 6am, then they realized they didn’t even think they had that time, so i got the first one at 6pm and the second one at 3am… I am no doctor but I know that it was ultimately God, but also those shots that saved Nora’s life.  I know I complain about the mag and how much it sucked, but it kept Nora in long enough to get the shots, and let them be in my system for a while to actually start to work.  I know they tried all through that night to stop my contractions but to no avail.  At 3:30am I was wheeled into labor and delivery and they started making preparations for delivery, even ordering my epidural (which I never received that night).  At around 6:40am Todd sent out a desperate plea for prayers on Facebook, and by 8:30am my contractions had finally stopped, and I was 3-4cm dilated!  They told me then that I would be on hospital bedrest until Nora was delivered and that they would do everything they could to stop it, but she would most likely be here within 7days.

Over the next few days, we had consults with a MFM (maternal fetal medicine), and with one of the Doctors from the NICU.  They were trying to prepare us for what to expect with the birth of a 25weeker.  Let me tell you, those are the scariest conversations I have ever had, and thankfully I don’t remember most of them because of the mag.  Apparently I straight fell asleep in the middle of one conversation I had with my MFM.  The nurses thought it was hilarious that the doctor put in my chart “patient fell asleep, continued conversation with her husband.”  haha like I said…the mag and I did not get along!  But I do remember praying to God saying, I will lay in this bed for the next 15 weeks…just please don’t let her come early,please!!  God had other plans though…

Two days later on February 4th, they decided that I was finally stable enough to wheel back out of labor and delivery and back to the special care unit.  They wheeled me out at noon, and at 12:10pm my contractions started again.  This time they were not able to stop them.  I labored, panicked, terrified, and sick to my stomach for hours.  They jacked me back up on more mag then I was on the previous few days and told me to try my best to relax…right.  Todd’s family was there, but all I wanted was my Mom and/or sisters, who were all at my other sister’s baby shower.  The nurses kept asking me if the contractions were strong and I kept telling them no, I thought if I told them how bad they really hurt that they would give up on trying to stop my labor.  Because Nora was so small they couldn’t even track most of my contractions on the monitor.  How they knew I was having a contraction (with out me telling them) was because Nora’s heart rate would dip with every contraction.  Todd could see it all over my face every time I had a contraction, but I don’t think he quite understand my insane logic of thinking at the time.  He kept saying, Renee I know their getting stronger, you can no longer talk through them.  I just really remember thinking, if I can keep lying about how strong these contractions are, they will keep trying to stop my labor.  Finally around 5pm my Mom got there, and around 6:30 my water broke and they finally told me they were not going to be able to stop it this time, I was dilating way to fast.  I absolutely broke down… I lost it.  I was terrified for Nora, terrified that she would not make it.  They started preparing me, telling me that she would not cry when she was born, she would not be placed on my chest, that I would not see her when she was born, and  they would be rushing her to the NICU right after birth.  I was suppose to have a joyful birth, full of fun, excitement, and anticipation.  Not one of fear, terror, and horror-stricken panic.  Around 7pm they finally turned the mag off, in hopes that I would be able to start to feel my legs and arms, and be able to lift my head for delivery.  As soon as they turned the mag off, my labor progressed rapidly.  By 8pm I was 6-7cm dilated and had just gotten my epidural in a last ditch effort to stop them.  By 9:50 I was 8cm and by 9:55 I was 10 and ready to go!  I have never in my life been more scared than I was in that moment.  I remember just crying in shear desperation, just begging and pleading that she stay in, I kept repeating over and over again…its too soon…she’s to small!

By 10pm my entire labor and delivery room was full of 10 NICU staff (nurses, Nurse practitioners, neonatologist, and respiratory) and then 5 more labor and delivery nurses and a doctor.  You could barely move in that room there were so many people.  With me was Todd and my Mom.  I needed my Mom in there so that Todd could leave if he was able to be with Nora and she could stay and comfort me.  After just 2 short pushes, Nora Katherine was born at 10:38pm weighing only 1lb 14oz and 13in long.   When the doctor held her up for a split second for me to see, I lost it again.  She was tiny and pink but did not cry at all.  I knew she was going to be small, I knew she was going to be beyond small, but you can never begin to prepare yourself for that.  I had no idea how something so small could ever survive.  She took my breath away and I began to pray like I have never prayed in my life.  I must say though, she was tiny, but she was perfect.  Todd stood by my side, listening to everyone working on his precious daughter.  They intubated her right away in my room and tried to get her as stable as possible.  All I remember Todd saying over and over was, “they said she took a breath…they said she is breathing, babe she is breathing…shes breathing”  I knew it was all machine/vent breathing but I just kept thanking God that she was alive.  They worked on her for about 20min before they put her in her isolate, wheeled her next to me so I could get one good look at her, and then they rushed her to the NICU.

Todd was able to see her an hour later, and I was able to finally see her at 1am after my epidural had worn off.  She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  She gripped right onto my finger, opened her eyes and looked right at me.  That paired with the first time I got to hold her were some of the best moments of my life.

We didn’t know until months later how critical her first 12hours of life were.  The neonatologist told us there were several times they did not think she would make it, and every time I think about that I cry.  Nora was born with an infection called Chorio, also within the first few hours of life she had a blood transfusion (within 6hrs of being born) and developed a bilateral grade 4 brain bleed (the most severe brain bleed you can have, that we would find out about 10days later).

They are still not positive on why I went into labor so very early, it could be a number of things, or just 1 individual thing, but unfortunately there is no way for us to know.   I have a bicornuate uterus which can sometimes cause pre-term labor, but I came into the hospital with a UTI and Nora was ultimately born because of a sever infection in my uterus.  There is no way to know if the UTI started everything, which then would have caused me to go into labor, and then being dilated caused the infection, or if the infection came first, if the bicornuate uterus caused the pre term labor etc…  We were told that when a women goes into labor early, if caught very early, a lot of times the doctors can stop it, but when there is an infection the drugs will not work, and the baby knows its uninhabitable and it has to get out.  Which is exactly what Nora did, and I thank God everyday that she did, less she could never have survived in there with the infection.

 

her blog when you have some spare time. I catch up on blogs while I’m nursing, which makes me relate and laugh even

more. Thanks for sharing Lacie! Keep on doing what you’re doing, I’m entertained. Peace, Melanie.

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i am writing this to the best of my knowledge. time was such a weird vortex, so i’m recalling things as i remember them, with bits and pieces told to me by JJ and my Mom.

i woke up at 6 am with wet underwear and wet pajama pants. and i was like “JJ I’M WET DOWN THERE! DO YOU THINK MY WATER BROKE?!” he said, “maybe you peed yourself.” so helpful. so i texted my Mom and asked her what she thought. she thought it was my water. but the thing is, it wasn’t a lot of liquid…just a little. so we went for a walk. then i took a shower. and when i put fresh clothes on, my underwear got a little bit wet again. so i called the doctor. she said it was probably nothing, but that i should come to the hospital to be checked out, and then i would most likely be sent home.

when we got to the hospital the doctor came in and checked my cervix. only dilated 2 cm. she did a swab swipe to test the mysterious liquid and then we waited. then an hour later she came back and said indeed it was my water. only it hadn’t broken. it was just leaking. a slow leak. then she told us that a leak like that could cause infection for me and the baby. so she wanted to start me on Pitocin. HOLYSHITWHAAAAAT?! we thought we were being sent home. we were going to get pizza for dinner. we left Cleo. ohmyghodddd. for reals this was it. sldkflksadlfk

the nurse put an IV in me. which was so painful and grossed me out the ENTIRE time it was in me. i had to ask them to put a guaze glove over it because i wanted to gag at the sight of the needle in my thin hand skin. then JJ and i called our families and just sat around waiting for JF to make a move. i had contractions but they were totally endurable and then i got hungry. i had eaten two cheese sandwiches for breakfast that morning (do. not. judge.) and apparently that wasn’t enough because i wanted a grilled cheese sandwich and fries. the hospital is so annoying with their nutrition rules. the fries were BAKED. not fried. and they didn’t even have salt on them. WTF. and don’t even get me started on the effing LOW CALORIE KETCHUP. so stupid.

my family arrived that afternoon, and my contractions were definitely there, but still manageable. i decided i wanted to sleep a little. then in the middle of the night, things started to get painful. and i started having lower back pain. it was basically just an uncomfortable and miserable night. my Mom and JJ took turns patting my head and being nice. JJ slept on the couch in the room and at one point he rolled over and said in his sleep, “are you okay big mama?” really? big mama? thanks. and then at around 3 am i was given a bit of pain medicine, which made me a complete loony toon. i managed to sleep tiny bits until morning…my sisters and Dad were in and out of the room. JJ’s parents flew up from CA, and my grandparents came as well. even Rah and Nebular were there. everyone came in to chat with me, but i was mostly just a moaning and groaning mammal.

about mid-morning the doctor came in and broke my water all the way. ouchhhhh. it hurt. and it gushed everywhere. like BUCKETS of fluid. the nurse said it was the most she’d ever seen in her 25 years. i was reallllllly feeling the horrid contractions and equally painful lower back pain, and they allowed me to have an epidural. omg. it was the WORST experience ever in life. the guy had to stab me 3 times. THREE. SEPARATE. TIMES. i was sobbing and keeled over and having contractions and wanting to die. i wanted to strangle that man. like really bad. he finally figured his shit out and the medicine reached me and i felt better. for an hour. then i felt everything again. i was so annoyed. everyone said the epidural would make everything easy and perfect. lies. the next few hours were excruciating. the anesthesiologist kept coming back to give me more medicine, and each time it worked for a short period of time before wearing off. i remember that JJ’s Mom brought him a coffee and a cookie. and i could smell the coffee and it was awful. i wanted to puke. and the sound of the crinkling paper on that damn cookie. just please. i don’t think i have ever hated anyone as much as i hated JJ when he unwrapped that MFing cookie. i wanted to hurl them both out of the window.

except for that one time, i really appreciated JJ being a good husband and staying by my side. he let me squeeze his hand really hard and he told me i was pretty even though i was absolutely not. and i had always thought i wanted just JJ in the room with me. but during labor i realized i needed my Mom. a woman who had been there, who understood the pain. and during the very worst parts when i felt that i could not do it, she reassured me that i could.

by late afternoon on memorial day i was shouting out loud that i was going to die. i was making sounds that i didn’t even know i could make. i was probably scaring the piss out of the other pregnant women on the floor. i thought that i had to be close. indeed i was. 9 cm. so close. i could DO this. but OHMYGOD it hurt so bad, and the epidural was not working and i could feel everything. it was during this time that i called the baby an asshole. i’m so sorry Gemma. i didn’t know what i was thinking. literally. i felt like i wasn’t me. like i wasn’t present in the experience. i was so exhausted. it felt like i was going crazy. and they wouldn’t let me drink anything but i was sooo thirsty! just two little measly ice chips at a time. the doctor came back in and i was 9+ cm dilated, but not progressing. MOTHERF*@#. i could feel the baby down low and it was making me feel like i had to poop. but the doctor told me not to push. it was such an awful feeling. i was damn near ready to go clinically insane, when the doctor finally explained that my cervix was just not fully dilated or effaced, and that the baby was sunny-side up (which explained the back pain), so a c-section was the best and safest option.

i did not care. i never did. i just wanted a healthy baby. and right then i just wanted that healthy baby out of me. pronto. JJ put on a sexy blue hospital jumpsuit and matching hat, and the nurse detached the Pitocin from me and a new anesthesiologist (who kept calling me Maria…??) came and gave me the goods for surgery. and in we went.

they strapped my arms down and told me to take a nap while they prepared me for surgery. really? take a nap? and then we were ready. JJ was so excited, it was so cute. then they cut me. and i felt more than just pressure. it hurt. so i told them it hurt and they gave me more medicine. (am i a rhinoceros? srsly. why didn’t any of the medication work on me?!) and then more painful pressure and then a baby crying! i heard it! JJ looked at me. i said “LOOK! GO LOOK! IS IT A BOY OR A GIRL?!” and so he stood up and said, “it’s a GIRL! L, it’s a girl!” and then they cleaned her up and weighed her and measured her and laid her down next to me. and we just stared at each other. it was so lovely. that horrible 30 hours of labor was worth it. i asked JJ, “what should we name her?” we had a few names we liked, but i couldn’t decide. and i didn’t care. i was just so happy to have the beautiful fruits of my labor out of my belly and next to me. and he said, “she’s a Gemster.” it was perfect. she was perfect. our perfect little Gem.

~~~~~

The Story of Jumpin’ Bean

 Jumpin’ Bean’s birth story begins on November 5, 2010, when we were on our way to a weekend trip to Missouri, just the two of us. That Friday night Jack and I arrived to a quiet and peaceful hotel in St. Genevieve. The next day my friend, Sarah, was getting married at the nearby Chaumette Winery. Sarah and Ben’s ceremony was sweet, set in the early afternoon amongst the backdrop of sunshine and blue skies on the winery’s hilltop, followed by the best wedding food I’d ever had (a French and American spread), a glass or two of wine, dancing, and a tranquil drive across wine country to St. Louis where we would spend an adult evening alone.

Once in STL, we went to a quaint Tapas restaurant Sarah recommended to us, had some bravas, olives and peppers, tasty fish and jamón and drank us some Alhambra. We sat at the corner table where we felt like the only ones there—just perfect. We stayed at this super cool hotel in The Loop, so after dinner we walked up to campus, got some coffee and sat. And talked. Uninterrupted. If you’ve got kids, you know what a treat this is. We slept in the next morning, went to Mass at a nearby old church (that’s one of our favorite things to do when we travel—go to Mass at new places), then went to the St. Louis zoo (for free!) before heading back home to Joseph, who was staying in B-town with Nonna (my mom) that weekend. Do I really have to spell out for you what the result of our weekend was? Nothing inspires procreation like a bestest buddy’s wedding. Love was in the air!. Muchisimas gracias, Sarah and Ben. It is only fitting that you were Jumpin’ Bean’s first non-family visitors. (P.S.—Joseph was the result of a trip to St. Petersburg, Florida. Jumpin’ Bean was the result of a trip to St. Genevieve/St. Louis. Lord help us if we go on trips to places with the name ‘Saint’ in them.)

As we pulled into our driveway I got this feeling. Were my boobs hurting already? We ran inside to greet Joseph, literally pushing each other over to get to him first, and he was happy to see us. That sweet, innocent little face. Oh, God, are we ready for two? I’m probably not even pregnant, why am I freaking out? Big monkey hugs from him as he wrapped his legs tightly around my torso. I know I’m pregnant, I just know it.

A few days later I traveled to Spain for work. In between site visits, I got to see an old friend, Padre Zazo, Joseph’s namesake. The last time I had seen him, it was the spring of 2009 and I was pregnant with Joe. I didn’t tell him I suspected I was pregnant again. I don’t think I needed to. I could tell in his face that he knew.

I came home to a mess two days before Thanksgiving. While I was gone my poor kiddo got pink eye. Then my poor kiddo, hubby and mother-in-law got a nasty stomach bug, so naturally I was bracing myself to get it upon my return. Nothing says ‘Missed you, Mommy’ quite like projectile vomiting. Instead, what I got was a wicked case of jetlag. Joseph was taking three hour naps to recover from his rough patch, so I joined him every day in hopes of recalibrating on this side of the Atlantic. My brothers and sisters poked fun at me for being such a party pooper—and my stepdad called me out when I kept declining wine. “You must be pregnant!” he said with a sly grin, as if saying it out loud would will it to happen (he loooves being a Papoo). After being home for a few days and still taking three hours naps with Joe, I realized this was not mere jetlag. It was jetlag with a pregnant punch. I was whooped, exhausted, pooped beyond words. Jack finally asked me if I was alright and I told him that I thought I was pregnant. His heart might have skipped a beat. When he asked me how long I had thought that, I told him pretty much since we had driven home from St. Louis. He knew I was being serious and I’m pretty sure that’s why he turned completely white. After the ten days he’d had with Captain Pink Eye followed by Captain Pukies, baby on board seemed a little overwhelming to him and I couldn’t blame him. We got back to B-town the Sunday after Thanksgiving and we took a test. Holy. Schmoly. Ready or not, here two come!

We were elated, really we were. We were just kind of stunned, frankly. Joe had turned one in September, and we knew we wanted our kids to be about two years apart—but could it really have happened so fast? Turns out, after checking my charts and doing some quick math, this little nipper would be arriving to us at the end of July—the 29^th according to my calculations. We’d be joining the two under two club. I also hoped that the babe would arrive late just like his/her brother, as my job requires me to essentially be ‘on call’ until all nine of my study abroad programs return to the States. The last program in 2011 was set to return July 28^th. Uf, we were going to be cutting it close.

We phoned my parents and Jack’s parents right away. Thinking of it makes me smile so big. Is there any more fun news to relay than you’re having a baby? My Mom was squealing on the phone. She called my stepdad to tell him and rumor has it he started to do jumping jacks in the airport while waiting to catch his flight for a business trip. We told my brother, who was pretty pumped. My Dad replied with an enthusiastic ‘That’s fanTAStic!’ My stepmom said she knew we’d come back from the St. Louis wedding weekend with a baby on the way—and she said she could tell by the way I looked when we saw her over Thanksgiving. My mother-in-law cried. We didn’t tell my father-in-law because we knew if he did, he’d tell all of Greater Cincinnati before we got a chance to. We swore our five parents and my brother to secrecy and decided to make the announcement at Christmas. Both of our moms were bursting at the seams harboring such a secret, and lived to run in to one another on the westside of Cincy to talk about it (who else could they talk about it with?).

Before the night was over, negotiations for baby’s name were under way—and settled before we even went to bed. For a boy we wanted Jude—the middle name was still up for grabs (with Albert, some variation of Augustus/Augustine, and Aquinas all in the running—remember those saints I was talking about? We like saints. To be eligible as a Goetz-approved baby name, you have to either have been a saint or a Marian apparition). For a girl we wanted Pilar Kathryn, the name we had picked out had Joseph been a boy, after the Virgin Mary who appeared to St. James on the river Ebro in Zaragoza, Spain, and told her to build a church on the very ‘pillar’ on which she appeared—the beautiful Basilica de Nuestra Señora del Pilar is the result. It took us a few days to decide what we would nickname this little one. Joseph had been Peanut while he was in the womb. Peanut 2.0 felt like a betrayal to both Joe and his sibling, so we settled on Jumpin’ Bean for the newest Goetz tater tot, or JB for short.

Our first doctor’s appointment was on December 17^th. We did the typical first visit stuff—met with the childbirth educator (“Can’t eat this, should stay away from that.” Oops, ate and drank most of what was on that list while in Spain), the financial rep (“Your baby will cost roughly $X,XXX.” Jack went white again.), the doctor (“How are you feeling? Any questions? Ready for two?” Ha. Hahaha. Ha. No.), and then, the ever favorite, the hero of that hours long first visit—the ultrasound technician. She looked at me kinda like “You’re back again already?!”, but then got straight to work on gelling me up. I don’t care how many babies a woman has or how many times she hears the swoosh and gallop of her baby’s beating heart, it’s never enough and never as special as hearing it for that first time. Tears streamed down my face, and Jack’s, too. This was for real, and we had our baby’s first photo to prove it. When we went to Cincy a few days later for Christmas, we hung JP’s ultrasound photo on the fridge, and decided we’d just let people figure it out. My sister was the first to notice the night before Christmas Eve and she cried (how I love her!). Then the night of Christmas Eve, my uncle Mike Tallarigo spotted it and asked if it was Joseph. I said ‘no’ and the people who overheard me got real quiet and their eyes got real big—the calm before the storm—then all one thousand Tallarigos whooped and shouted. Hugs, and kisses, and general loudness ensued. When we told Jack’s family the next day (my mother-in-law wrapped a pack of diapers up for my father-in-law to open), everyone was thrilled. JB was everyone’s favorite Christmas present in 2010, especially ours.

In many ways, my pregnancy with JB was eerily similar to my pregnancy with Joseph. I felt the same (great—but a bit more tired due to chasing around a toddler), was on a pretty similar trajectory (with their birth dates about an estimated six weeks apart, I went through the winter looking a little pudgy, like I’d eaten too much turkey at Thanksgiving and then again at Christmas, then started to get a belly in March or so, blossoming in the spring and just popping in the summer—bonus: I got to wear all of my maternity clothes that I wore with Joe a second time around since I was preggers in the same seasons), looked the same (mostly all belly out in front), and had the same zest for being pregnant (see Joseph’s birth story; Jack thought once was just good luck, but enjoying being pregnant a second time and he officially began to panic thinking we might produce an entire soccer team). Because so many things were ‘the same,’ and were ‘the same’ from the get- go, I began to think very early on that I was having another boy. And I was really thrilled about that! I’m a tomboy—I’ve always been considered ‘one of the guys.’ I was more than alright with Joe, Jack and I’s many outings playing in the mud and dirt with sticks, tossing rocks, racing cars across the tile and the like. Jack had the same gut feeling, too. In fact, everyone did—except for Papoo (my stepdad) and GG (my stepmom). So we pretty much began to focus on what the middle name would be, praying to the saints to give us a sign.

Well, a sign came, and it wasn’t the one I was looking for or expecting. But is it ever?

My pregnancy with JB went by so, so fast. Mommas of two or more out there know exactly what I’m talking about. The first pregnancy, it’s all about you, the Momma Bear. The second pregnancy you have no time to think about you because you are chasing after another one and that other one has no concept of the fact that there’s a little nipper growing inside of you, taking much of your energy, and making it harder for you to read him/her goodnight stories since he/she is getting pushed out of your lap more and more each night due to the belly, which seems to grow infinitely faster the second time around. Got morning sickness? Too bad, toddler reigns. You’ll just have to barf in a bag on the run. Got hemorrhoids? Shucks, that’s unfortunate. Can’t soak your hiney in the tub for an hour because, well, you don’t have an hour! In fact, you don’t even have fifteen minutes! Got back aches? Dang. Well, get used to it because big bro or sis still wants to be picked up, more so now than ever, mainly because he/she can sense that someone or something is encroaching on his/her territory, and soon. Fortunately, I had a very happy and healthy pregnancy, and only had one of the previously mentioned maladies. I’ll let your imagine roam—a true ‘lady’ doesn’t reveal her secrets (hahaha, since when have I been considered that?).

The point is, time flew and before I knew it, it was mid-July and we found ourselves in the same situation in which we had found ourselves with Joe—all ready to go and just waiting on baby. Joe moved out of the baby room into his ‘big boy’ room (which he rather enjoyed getting in and out of to come visit us—did I mention many older siblings tend to regress in their sleeping habits when a little one is on the way?), and one day I found myself in JB’s room, just looking around in awe. Wow, this was really happening, wasn’t it? For whatever strange reason, I opened the drawer of the changing table and that’s when I saw the sign: the rosary of the Virgen del Pilar that I had bought when mom and I went to visit Zaragoza so that I could show her the Basilica that would be my daughter’s namesake, should I ever have one. I had been wondering where that was—it was tucked away in the back of the drawer, with just la Virgen’s head peeking out. I literally felt the breath knocked out of me. I think I actually sighed out loud. Shivers went up my spine, the hairs on my arm on end, the way you feel whenever you know that God’s telling you something. I had been wrong about Jude all along. I hung the rosary on the wall and smiled, then sealed my lips. This was the kind of sign not meant to be shared.

I kept this sign in the back of my mind for the last few weeks of my pregnancy. My spiritual being knew better than to doubt it, but the logical side of me was still convinced I was carrying a JAG. Or maybe it was this: I was petrified, I mean scared to my core, to have a baby girl. Why, you ask? Well, I feel like it’s taken a lot of hard work, a huge community of support, and about 25 years (out of my 30 on this earth) to officially come into my own as a woman. Dang…that’s a long journey! I do not regret a second of it and if that’s how long it took for me to be who I am and who I was meant to be (which, I believe, is still a work and progress), then it’s well worth the wait. Perhaps in a different era or a different time, the journey to feeling comfortable in my own skin would not have been as long—but in THIS time in which we live, gals have it tough and the journey simply takes longer. We are being taught to be virgins on one channel, to use contraception on the other, and how to be sexier/skinnier/prettier/add any adjective with ‘ier,’on the end, which implies that what we are currently just isn’t enough, on yet another channel. Ugh, mixed messages anyone? So while I know that women can come out of all that mess with strong voices, strong careers, and strong senses of self (I like to think I’m one of them—and I know so many more), I also know that there are some major growing pains, moments of self-doubt (and sometimes self-hatred), and feelings of inadequacy along the way. What a daunting task to think about bringing up a baby girl in this world! On one hand, it’s what I wanted more than anything: to feel the kinship with my daughter that I’ve always felt with my mom, to have the special bond that my mom and I have with a little Pili, to go on Momma/Daughter trips like so many that Mom and I have gone on before. On the other hand, I just felt like I was better wired to raise baby boys. I’m NOT saying boys are easy breezy, because that’s certainly not the case. I’m also not saying that boys aren’t spoon-fed mixed messages, either. I just feel like boys have less inherent baggage to carry (I know that sounds awful, but I can’t think of another way to say it without saying what I mean) and less pressure on them to meet certain (mostly unrealistic) expectations. I know that I wake up every morning thankful I am a woman and that I a woman empowered. I also know, however, that Jack wakes up every morning thankful he’s not a woman—for many of the reasons I list above.

Yup, that was it. I was afraid to have a baby girl. So I prayed only to la Virgen del Pilar for the remaining weeks of my pregnancy, asking her to help me be the best mother I could be, regardless if a Jude or Pili arrived to us.

I also prayed to la Virgen that JB would wait until after my programs ended, not because I couldn’t handle it if he/she arrived before then, rather because I didn’t want my little child to ever have to compete with my work on his/her birthday. Ever.

July 28^th came and went. Phew! Even though I still had a project that would have been nice to finish up before JB’s arrival (the launching of our program’s new promotional video), I gave JB a special pat on the belly and told him/her that he/she could come out whenever he/she wanted at this point! I took Friday, the 29^th, off of work and treated myself to a massage (the only one I got with JB—in the month leading up to Joe’s birth, I got one just about every weekend—see paragraph above on being a second time Mum), a trip to Hobby Lobby to put together Joseph’s ‘Big Brother Bag’ (a slew of goodies—books, stickers, paper, markers, etc.—a care package, if you will, to remind him that he’s still a special boy) and a movie, yes a movie!, all by myself, complete with Twizzlers, popcorn and a soda. I saw ‘Midnight in Paris’ and it was just perfect—light, funny, whimsical. It fit the mood of the day just right.

That Saturday we took Joseph to the Monroe County Fair, which is right up that kiddo’s alley: chickens, pigs, cows, horses, big trucks and trailers and…of course…John Deere tractors. The little guy was in heaven. Jack and I looked at each other at one point when Joe was climbing in and out of the tractors and somehow had a sense that this was our last weekend together as a family of three. In fact, I remember Jack commenting to me what a difference a year had made, given in 2010, we went to the Fair and Joe was barely just walking and rather stroller bound. Fast forward to a year later, and he was climbing like a monkey on tractors, so articulate for not even being two, and about to become a big brother. My comment back to Jack was…can you imagine what next year’s Fair will be like?

Saturday night, after Joe was nestled in bed and I had found my usual spot on the couch, I started having some cramping. Familiar cramping. It was around 11:00 at night, and I told Jack I thought something was happening. We both went to bed soon after and slept peacefully, all faired out.

Sunday (JB’s due date) I woke up and the cramping had increased, but had not become what I would call contractions. Still, my gut was telling me that change was on the horizon, and since we have no family in B-town and my mom was pretty much just waiting for ‘the call,’ I phoned and told her she might want to think about packing her bags. And I also told her to pack them as if she wouldn’t be returning to Cincinnati for a while. As the day progressed, the cramps turned in to full-on contractions, but were very, very infrequent (one every few hours). Also, I noticed that JB wasn’t moving as much and that always freaked me out, especially given that both Joe and JB (up until that point) were active kiddos in the womb. When Mom got to our house, I called the doctor and after describing my occasional contractions and lack of movement, they wanted to be safe rather than sorry and had me go up to the hospital to be monitored. While ‘the bag’ was packed, I didn’t think this was ‘it’ so I didn’t bring it along. Jack and I left for the hospital and left Joe and Nonna behind.

They hooked me up right away to a monitor and once they had me do a non-stress test, we came to find that JB was moving around just fine (precocious little stinker—waited until he/she was hooked up to start moving again!). What they did notice was that I was pretty dehydrated. So they gave me lots and lots of liquid through an IV, and I had tons of ice chips and water. Three hours later or so, they released me. We got home after midnight. “Maybe tomorrow,” I thought.

Joe went to daycare and God love Mom, she helped me do some last minute nesting at home while I was at work. Yes, work. Mom came and picked me up from work, then we went to get Joe together from daycare and took him to the Mall to burn off some energy. Since it was so bloody hot out, playing outside was not an option. Also, the doc recommended I not have a repeat of the recent dehydration bout. It was August 1^st. Just like with Joseph, I was bound and determined to walk JB right out, so I was walking/running after Joe at the Mall as much as Mom would let me. I went to the bathroom for the umpteenth time that day and, lo and behold, my bloody show greeted me in the terlit. That hadn’t happened with Joe until I was at the hospital, so I was encouraged that JB might actually be more motivated than Joe was to meet the world on the outside (for those of you that know JB, this should not come as a surprise). We got home that night, all had dinner together, and then after Joe went to bed I checked my e-mail. The promotional video with all the most recent edits was waiting in my inbox for me to review. I watched it one last time and it was just perfect. At 9:50 or so, I sent the e-mail signing off on the project, saying it was good to go. Green light. I felt a huge weight off my shoulders. I fell asleep almost instantly…

…and was woken up by a wandering Joe around 5:45 a.m. “Uppy, uppy,” he kept saying (in case you are not fluent in toddler, that’s a command for “Pick me up, dummy!”) I scooped him up and we snuggled right away. He rubbed my hand and played with my fingers before nodding off back into sleepy land. I, however, remained wide awake because they had started. Contractions every ten minutes or so. It’s like Joseph knew. He wanted to spend a few last hours with me as my only child and I adore him for that. I also adore JB for allowing its brother to get one last snuggle-with-Mommy-moment. I think both Joe and JB probably realized that I needed that moment perhaps more than they did—Big Joe’s world was about to get rocked, yet I was the fragile one. The contractions did not hurt in those moments, with the security of my little baby boy cuddled up against me. I just breathed through them—they were about a minute long—and focused my energy when they came and relaxed when they went. I cried softly as I held him, not because I was in pain but because he was soon going to be a big brother. As I breathed through each contraction, I hoped and prayed that he would still feel loved, and special, and needed, and cared for when JB came along. All of these silly thoughts entered my head: Will Joe resent us for creating him a sibling? Will JB ever feel loved the way Joe did, given he/she has to share us from the very start? How will my heart possibly be big enough to love two children the same and so very much? Without saying a word, Joseph comforted me and made me feel calm, much like his Daddy always does. Those first few hours of labor were—dare I say it?—blissful.

When Joe woke up around 8:00, it turned from blissful to—intense. The contractions had picked up to every seven minutes or so, but were not lasting long at all now. What the? I called the doctor, who suggested I come in later that afternoon to get checked and see how I was doing given I had been at the hospital two nights before. So Mom called my stepdad, Jack called his mom and I called my dad to let everyone know that these were the kind of contractions that lead to the main event. In the meantime, I took a nice, leisurely shower, finished packing JB’s stuff into ‘the bag,’ and by that time, Bill had arrived. Jack, Mom, Bill and I decided to have lunch together. Since it was probably going to be my last meal before JB arrived, it was my pick and I chose Scholar’s Inn. I’ll never forget eating our lunch there, and reaching across the table to squeeze Jack’s hand every time I felt a contraction coming on. Jack was my rock, just like he was when Joe was making his entrance. Bill was on his cell phone to all of his business pals, bragging that he was soon going to be meeting his new grandchild. When the waiter caught wind of that, he looked at me kinda crazy. “I’m in labor,” I told him nonchalantly. He said he was honored that I chose to have my last pre-baby meal at Scholar’s Inn. Little did he know I only chose Scholar’s Inn because I didn’t choose Mother Bears since I was looking forward to getting pizza delivered from there post-delivery.

From lunch, I went straight to the doctor’s office while Jack went to the house to pack his bag. I was eerily calm through the whole first part of the check-up (they took my blood pressure which was looking good, did another non-stress test to which JB responded well, checked me and I was 2 cm dilated), then the doc made a suggestion: “How about if you report to the hospital at 6:00 a.m. tomorrow morning and then we’ll go from there?” Calmness and poise out the window. I literally laughed out loud, followed by a rather resolute, “NO!” If Joseph’s labor and delivery were any indication of how this one might go, I could labor for hours and hours (and hours) with no progress—didn’t the doctor check my records? Um, hello, did he not remember the 25 hours of labor with Joe? He was rather taken aback, and then offered a much more palatable suggestion: “Okay, well you can go to the hospital, but they aren’t going to want to move your labor along at all.” “That’s fine,” I said, knowing that if I showed up at the hospital they weren’t gonna turn me away without a baby. So, I left the doc’s office and went home to pick up Jack. Just like with Joseph, I took a long look around the house and knew the next time I set foot in it, it would somehow be different—homier, sweeter, fuller.

Upon arriving to the hospital I was delighted to see that Dr. Cook was on call, who is the same doc that delivered Joseph. Dr. Cook seemed to understand Jack and I’s relationship (and banter) as well as our outlook on this whole labor and delivery thing, and right away after I got my lovely gown on he asked if I wanted him to break my water. “YES!” I responded. And laughed inside at the other doc’s comment “They aren’t going to want to move your labor along at all…”

From here, my memory gets really fuzzy—I don’t remember exactly when things happened, but I remember the order in which they happened. Contractions picked up after breaking my water. Mother-in-law showed up. Mom, Bill and Joe came up after they took Joe to dinner. Epidural. Yessssss. Dad made it in from Cincinnati. Mom took Joe home to be with our sitter (big shout out to Casey Biggs!) and then came back. Ice chips, tons of water, popsicles. Lots of residents accompanying the docs and nurses (I felt like a human guinea pig. Also my undercarriage was getting lots of exposure. Yay for being preggers in a college town.). Finally, around maybe 11:15 or so, they came in to ‘empty my tank,’ (can’t tinkle myself when I have an epidural so another resident had the honor of inserting a catheter) but didn’t proceed to check me afterwards. I looked at the nurse kinda funny. “Aren’t you going to check me?” I asked. During labor with Joe, they emptied my tank and I dilated from 7 to 10 cm just like that. “Dr. Cook will be in to check you before midnight. If you need anything, just press the button!”

She left the room and suddenly it felt like I had to, well, you know, relieve myself through the non-catheter end. I knew what that meant…it was time to push out a baby. So I pressed the button and in she came. I told her the dealio and she sent the entourage behind the curtain so she could check me. This was what she said, I kid you not (I can’t make stuff like this up): “Okay, close your legs. I’ll be back with Dr. Cook.” Cheers erupted from behind the magic curtain. I glanced at the clock. About 11:30 p.m. JB had less than a half an hour if he/she wanted his/her own birthday—otherwise if he/she arrived on the 3^rd, JB was going to have to share its birthday with my Aunt Julie. As Dr. Cook made his way in and the family entourage made their way out, I heard Bill tell him that he’d slip him a 50 dollar bill if he could facilitating JB getting’ born in under the midnight mark. That was of less concern to me—my biggest issue was keeping this baby from creeping out before Dr. Cook could get his catcher’s gloves on.

Jack and I had less time to get our thoughts together than we did with Joe. We did say a quick prayer together, though, and then it was go-time. They reviewed pushing with me again, and I gave it a whirl. One push. Two push. Three push. Born. Like a Dr. Suess book. Yup, JB came out in three pushes—Dr. Cook was stunned, Jack even more so. In the meantime, I’m waiting for the big reveal while Stunned 1 and Stunned 2 can’t believe a baby just came out in less than five minutes. “It’s Pili!”
Jack said, still stunned. “The rosary…” I thought to myself and cried tears of sincere happiness. It was 11:49 p.m. Still August 2^nd. Miss P had her own birthday, by golly. Now that I know her, well of course she wasn’t gonna be born on the same day as anyone else. She’s a feisty Leo and wasn’t going to share her 24 hours with nobody, God love her.

My fear of how I would find enough room in my heart to love two children was washed away in an instant as my heart just grew. I literally felt like the Grinch in that ending scene when he’s so happy that Who-ville got to celebrate Christmas—you know, when his heart grows too big for its chamber and it just bursts?

 And what happened then? Well, in Who-ville they say that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day! And then the true meaning of Christmas came through, and the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches…plus two.

 To be clear: I am not likening myself to the Grinch (stop snickering, Jack), but I can think of no other way to describe how my heart grew three sizes in a day, and by virtue of Miss P simply being born, how I found more inner strength than ten Griches, plus two…more inner strength than I ever thought I was capable of, but was certainly going to need in the weeks, months, years to come.

They handed Pilar Kathryn to me on my chest, a squirrely, wiggly and writhing 7 lbs, 4 oz. and 20 inches long. She was screaming. She didn’t stay on my chest long because she pooed on her way out (that oughta tell you the spunk she was born with) and had to get cleaned up. When she was ready to go, I got to see her for real. Big, pensive eyes. And this mate de pelo (head of hair) that was to die for—fuzzy, and with blond highlights! I mean real highlights, like the kind people pay big bucks for. She just looked at me, and I at her—and I felt this instant connection, this instant camaraderie with her. With Joe, I had an instant connection, too, but with more of a Momma Bear protective instinct kind of feel. And he nuzzled right up to me and snuggled. With P, it was different. We just seemed to ‘get’ each other. There was less nuzzling and more mutual understanding, more looks of complicity, something that just happens among females who have that chemistry, something that you just can’t describe. We just clicked. Sounds bogus, but I know what I felt. I still feel that way with her. It’s beautiful. I know it will inevitably cause us some strife and possible discord in future years, but I look at her and relate to her so much already, the way only Mommas and their Daughters can.

While I don’t know what Jack felt in that moment, I had a good idea based on the look on his face: he loved her so much already it hurt. And he was bracing himself for a lifetime of moments with her in which he would fear for her knowing she would have no fear, want to protect her knowing he couldn’t, and tell her, much like my Dad has always told me, that he’d be the first man to ever love her and the only man to love her for her whole life. Also in that moment, I sensed that Jack would be perfectly happy if Pili became a nun, as the only men she would then have permission to love would be her dad, her brother and Jesus. Jack has since confirmed for me my last suspicion, declaring that he thinks Pili would make an excellent Carmelite nun, or perhaps a splendid Poor Clare Sister. I think P has other plans.

Bill tried to slip Dr. Cook a fifty, but he graciously declined and instead told him to treat the staff to pizza. Bill did as he was told. From that moment forward, we became the hospital’s favorite guests that night. The family was of course thrilled about the astute little girl who arrived just under the midnight hour. We ate pizza, laughed, and all marveled at little Miss P. I had a daughter! I wondered what Joe would think of his new sister when he met her the next day…

Pili Kate is a rock star. A dream come true. How could I have been afraid to have her? Now I can’t imagine life without her. She’s my Pilarina chiquitina, Miss P, Pilicakes, my Pili Pili Punkin’ Pie. She is a firecracker of pure spunk, yet at the same time she’s incredibly easygoing. Fantastic combination. She melts all of our hearts on a daily basis, especially her Daddy’s and her brother’s. And of course, she puts those two on a pedestal. She rocks her brother’s hand-me-downs, rocks her gushies and naturally always rocks that mess of hair she has that just keeps growing and growing. She is her own person and has been since she came out kicking and screaming. She’s independent and strong-willed, free-spirited and be-bops to her own tune (literally—she moves her little hips and bumsy to the songs in her head). She needs wide open spaces. She’s like I was when I was turning 20. Except she’s turning one. Uf. I think we might have a boat-rocker on our hands—but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Happy Birthday, Sweet P, Apple of my Eye and Keeper of my Soul. Feliz Cumpleaños, mi chiquitina. You are my sunshine—and the sweetest pea in the whole pod.

~~~~

My firstborn was due on April 15 and was born on April 11, four days early.  I woke up at 4 a.m. with contractions, lost my plug around 10 a.m. went to work in labor from 1-5 p.m. and worked through the contractions. On my way home from work I realized I am really starting to have some pain here.  Decided after regular contractions to head to the hospital around 7 p.m. Got the epidural by 11 p.m. or so and delivered at 2:30 a.m. Easy breezy delivery!!

Simon was due on September 17th and was born on September 27, 10 days late. Three days before he was born I had my membranes stripped to try to induce labor. I also walked about two hours the day before he was born. I was three days from our scheduled induction (the midwife practice would not allow me to go past 14 days late) and I was getting desperate to meet my baby.  Simon was posterior and I was in hard painful labor for 8 hours. Those 8 hours Eric was putting pressure on my back constantly. The pain was constant even between contractions. I chose a natural birth with Simon and it was to date one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had. Eric and I proved to be an amazing team together and we experienced a new level of bonding. It was incredible! The labor was very tough but when the pain got to be too much, I dug so deep within and went into “the zone” and I felt super human when it was over.

Walker was due on April 10 and was born on April 22, 12 days late.  I was having very regular Braxton Hicks contractions for Walker for six to eight weeks prior to delivery. I was walking almost every day about 2 miles. I was ready for Walker’s arrival at least a month prior to his birth.  Waiting is not my strong suit and when Eric started getting anxious I knew this was not good b/c he has the patience of a saint.  One week passed and we were headed into the second week overdue and were contemplating an induction at 10 days overdue so that we could take advantage of a weekend birth.  We decided though to wait the weekend out and would look at an induction on day 14 or 15 overdue.  On Sunday, April 22 I woke up at 7 a.m. with regular contractions, but I had learned not to look into that too much because I had experienced a lot of regular and even painful contractions before. But I did start praying and I text my Mom, Rachel and Sarah and said we need to pray for a baby today. I struggle with praying theologically. My prayer has been for peace and contentment and surrender for a plan bigger than my own. Who am I to ask to have a baby on a specific day? I really believe that baby’s come when they are ready but as we continued to crawl past our due date, I lost sight of that at times.  On Sunday, I was ready to start praying for the Lord to bring baby Walker and at 8 a.m. my water broke! Yes!!!!

I called Dr. Bowen and we decided I could either come in or wait it out a bit. I had Group B Strep so we had a window of time to play with before we would need to get me in to start antibiotics for the GBS. My parents came and Eric and I started walking. As we walked contractions picked up in pain level and frequency. We decided to head on in around 11 a.m. By 12:30 we were in our room, meds administering for GBS and non stress test going. We then walked the halls for a while and labor began to pick up. Our friend, Sarah arrived around 1-1:30 and she was there to help support us and she also took all of the amazing black and white photos.  My parents arrived around 2:15 and as they were coming in I was starting to have some painful contractions.  At 3:05 I had my nurse check me again and I was at 6 cm. She said I had a lip on my cervix that had not given yet on my right side and that if I would lay on my right side it might give way.  Thank goodness for her wisdom!!! The last thing I wanted to do was lay on my side but I did it and I never got up.  I was pushing at 3:35 just 30 minutes later.  Once I got on my side the pain intensified incredibly and I lost it. I never got into “the zone”. I felt and acted out of control. I kept telling Eric and Sarah that I could not do this.  If I had known I was going from a 6 to full and ready to push in those thirty minutes, I would have been fine mentally but the pain was so intense so fast I was scared to death. I really did not think I could endure that pain for too much longer.  All of a sudden I felt something hot coming out and I knew it was blood. Eric paged the nurse and when she came in she called to break down the bed and it was GO TIME! I was yelling during contractions, “He’s coming right now! I can feel him coming!” It was so insanely different from Simon’s natural birth.  I was in so much pain I didn’t think I could move from my side. The nurse wanted to check me and I remember clamping my legs together as hard as I could. I couldn’t bare the thought of being touched. At this point Eric had text my Mom, Dad and Rachel (who were down the hall in the waiting room) and told them to come NOW! And about 6 more medical personnel had joined the room. I remember asking what we were waiting on and the response was my Dr. “No we aren’t!!!,” I said. We’re doing this NOW! From this point, I felt like the room erupted into chaos. And this is the part of Walker’s birth story I don’t like. His heart rate dropped and I felt like everyone was yelling at me to push. At some point they put oxygen on me.  I was pushing but I was fretting. The resident OB was standing away from me looking like a dear in headlights and the bed wasn’t broken down. No one was taking charge in the room. Some loud nurse to my left kept saying that I need to push now. We need to get the baby out NOW. And then I was asking if he was ok. Ugh. I believe my Dr. would have calmed down that room in 2 seconds.  He did come in while I was pushing and coached the resident on how to catch baby Walker.  Whew! (On a sidenote: I wish I had waited for my Dr. in hindsight. But in the moment, the ring of fire was saying I had to push right then!!)

When the labor was over, I didn’t feel relief or accomplishment like I did with Simon. I think I was in shock for a while.  Once all those crazy back ups got out of the room and it was just my calm and collected Dr., my beloved natural birth momma Nurse and my support folk, the room took on a lighter feel and I could begin to relax.  I really don’t know how dangerous things got but the very last thing any natural birthing momma needs or wants is chaos in the birth room.  Yikes! I wished I had been in the zone and calm and level headed but I was not this time. I was scared and it was not a calm environment but he is here and he is beautiful! And I would have another baby tomorrow! It’s so worth all of the pain and ALL of the WAITING! If I am able to have another baby, I should know to just scoot my due date back a few weeks next time

They say every birth is different and that could never be truer for me. My mom has always been nervous about me getting to the hospital on time because she had me in the car.  Similar to my experience with Walker, if I had waited until the pain was unbearable I would not have made it to the hospital. Never have I been more convinced than now that the baby’s position makes all the difference in a delivery. Walker was in great position and it didn’t take as much time for him to come.

~~~~

Ainsley’s birth was a little less dramatic.  No contractions.  No calling everyone to say the baby is on her way.  Very undramatic.

I found out that I was pregnant on July 1st.  I was about 4 weeks along at the time.  We had been trying for a few months and I thought there was a chance I could be pregnant but figured this test would be negative like previous ones had been.  Good friends of ours, Billy and Kelly, were getting married the next day and I wanted to take the test so I knew if I could drink at the rehearsal dinner and wedding.  Sean was getting ready for work and I didn’t even tell him I was taking a test.  I walked away from the test and came back expecting the Not Pregnant to be showing.  Instead it said Pregnant!

I instantly was trying to figure out a creative way to tell Sean but since he was about to go to work and we would be busy with the wedding festivities (and I knew there was no way I couldn’t tell him for the whole weekend), I simply decided to hand him the test.  He was as excited as I was but it was a hard secret to keep all weekend with all the happy things going on but it wasn’t our weekend and I knew we would try and keep it a secret for as long as we could.

With Liam, I felt nauseous for about the first 14 weeks or so, mostly all throughout the day.  With this pregnancy I would randomly feel nauseous throughout the day but it usually passed quickly.  Smells (especially the dirty diapers of the kids I was watching, but not Liam’s) often triggered my gag reflex and I threw up more times than I care to remember.  That lasted throughout the whole pregnancy and especially at the end I was feeling randomly nauseous again.

I mostly enjoyed being pregnant but I am not one of those people who will gush about how fantastic they felt or say it was awful the whole time.  I started sleeping on my sides earlier this time thinking that would help me get used to it (I’m a stomach sleeper) but that backfired when I was tired of sleeping on my hips early on but could no longer sleep on my back.

The time seemed to pass very slowly and it seemed like March would never be here.  The due date they gave us was March 9.  I started counting down the days.  Early on. the doctors told me that it would probably be best to have a repeat c-section since Liam was so big and babies are generally bigger on second pregnancies.  They said if the baby was measuring small we could try to do a vbac but it wasn’t seeming likely after Liam.  A few days after I took my glucose test, I got a call from the doctor and I thought they were going to tell me I needed to take the 3 hour test but instead they said I passed the glucose test and they scheduled the c-section for March 6th, just 3 days before the due date.

March finally arrived and we were ready to meet our new baby!  I think if I had started to feel contractions, I would have felt anxious because in my mind, the baby was coming March 6th and not before that.  I actually didn’t finish packing my bag until the night before we came to the hospital.  The night before, I decided I should go to bed a little late thinking I could get a solid 5 hours of sleep or so before we needed to get ready to go.  That didn’t work so well when I found I could not fall asleep!  I maybe slept for an hour or so during that time.  Needless to say, I was tired when it was time to get going but also ready to go because I was so excited to meet our new baby!

On March 6th at 4:35 a.m., Sean and I left the house (as quietly as we could since my parents, sisters, and Liam were still sleeping).  We discussed along the way how this felt so different from coming to the hospital to have Liam.  We got to the nurses station and they asked us all the standard questions to finish the check in.  We waited for a little while in the waiting room and then they took us to an area to start monitoring the baby.  They put two belts on me to monitor the baby and my heart rates and prepped me for surgery.  Sean tried to nap in a chair and I tried to rest a bit too but there were too many thoughts in my head and other things going on around us that kept me from being able to sleep.  I was supposed to go into the operating room at 7 to start the epidural and surgery to then start at 7:30 but the doctor wasn’t there so that delayed us a little bit.  We waited and waited (what seemed like forever but was really only an extra 30 minutes or so).  They took me into the operating room and left Sean with some scrubs to put on and told him they would come get him when they were ready.

Once in the (very, very bright) operating room, they got me on the operating table and then had me sit up for the epidural.  The epidural this time was very different.  They couldn’t quite get it places correctly this time so I think they stuck me at least three times.  I am so thankful for the very calm nurse who helped me hold it together.  It hurt (and I wasn’t expecting it to because the epidural with Liam did not).  They finally got me situated.  They brought Sean in and he looked nervous again but not so green in the face like he had last time.

Finally they started the surgery!  Sean and I were able to talk and joke a bit and he even had me laughing while we were waiting.  I didn’t feel nervous this and didn’t get shaky like I did the first time around.  I do remember feeling very cold.  Sean took a few pictures and finally the moment had arrived for them to pull the baby out.  They told Sean to be ready to tell me what we had.  I heard a cry and then he stood up and said, “You got your girl”.  We both cried tears of joy that she was a healthy little girl.  (Since we already had a boy, I was hoping for a girl but didn’t want to convince myself that she might be a girl just in case).

They held her over the curtain for me to see and then got her wrapped up so Sean could hold her.  She had apgar scores of  8 and 9 which are great!  At some point they weighed her and she came in at 9 pounds 13 ounces, just one ounce shy of Liam.  Sean got to hold her for awhile while they stitched me back up and then after the moved me to the bed, I held her on the way to recovery.

We had two girl names picked out with one being our favorite.  I asked what we were going to name her and Sean said you pick.  We talked it over for a few minutes and decided to go with our favorite, Ainsley Kay.  Ainsley was a name we had heard on the West Wing a long time ago and liked very much.  Kay is my Aunt Melody’s middle name.  It was very fitting when I talked to her later and she said the only Ainsley she had ever heard of was on the West Wing!

We wanted Liam to be the first to know the news and he was not allowed in recovery so everyone else had to wait.  She was born at 8:19 am and we had to spend at least 2 hours in recovery.  Our friend Melanie was here to take pictures so she came back to recovery and started snapping away.  She got some really great pictures.  While in recovery, I was able to have some skin to skin time with Ainsley and start to nurse her as well.  We ended up being there longer than we thought because we were waiting for our post partum room to be ready.

Apparently, there were lots and lots of babies born this week and most of the rooms are full and some are even double occupied.  We were very fortunate because Sean knows someone who works with TriHealth and we were able to get the suite at the end of the hall (which we had with Liam too for the same reason).  That made it worth the wait for sure!  At this point, I am sure that our families were very anxious to hear the news but they all seemed to be okay with us telling Liam first.

Almost as soon as I was in the room, Sean went to get Liam so he could come meet his baby sister.  Sean carried him into the room and then picked up Ainsley and said this is your baby sister.  Liam said, “Hi, baby!” and then ran around the room to jump in a chair.  We got a few pictures and then Liam, Sean, and Melanie went down the hall to tell everyone the news and capture some pictures.  Sean said he told Liam about halfway down the hall to tell them that he had a baby sister.  They got to everyone and Sean told Liam to tell what he had and he said, “Baby brother.”  Sean quickly said that it was a baby sister and then our entourage came down the hall to meet Ainsley.