Felix's Birth Story

The pregnancy went fairly well this time around.  I never really enjoy pregnancy, because it's just a long hard slog and so tough on your body, but I really didn't have any major complaints this time around.  And I lucked out with unseasonably cool temperatures since the beginning of August.

After having three of my four kids arrive a bit before their due date, I was hoping the odds were in my favor to have it happen again with #5.  I was due September 14th, and had intentionally kept my calendar cleared for the whole week before that.  Of course, Mr. Baby did not come early for me, so I ended up having to endure a torturous week of sitting around the house with no plans, just dying of the anticipation and waiting.

I had a midwife appointment scheduled for my due date - which I had been expecting not even to make it to - and as soon as the midwife asked me if I had any questions, I immediately said, "can we sweep my membranes?!!!"  (I'm convinced that's what had made Linus finally arrive, when he was a week past due).  I was fully expecting she would sweep me and I would be going into labor later that day.  So I was rather peeved when she told me she wouldn't do it, because they already had several women laboring at that moment, and she didn't want to have  to add one more.  Very disappointed, we went back home to sit around and wait for my body to decide to start doing something about getting the baby out.

That night, I did have some contractions.  I decided to park it in front of a show (Victoria, which is on Amazon Prime - pretty enjoyable, largely due to the beautiful clothing!) and wait to see if anything developed.  After several hours of sporadic contractions, things finally fizzled out, and I decided to just go to bed.

I woke up a little after four in the morning, most likely because I had to pee again.  But as soon as I opened my eyes, I realized that it felt like perhaps my water had broken.  I stood up, and there was even more fluid, so I knew that must have been what happened.  This was really the defining point to this entire labor.  My water has never broken on its own.  My midwives always break it for me (at my request) because late in my labor, contractions always start to slow way down since the sac is providing too much cushion on the baby's head.  In fact, a couple of the midwives have remarked that my body makes a "very strong bag of waters"!  So as soon as I realized what was happening, I became worried that things could possibly pick up very quickly.

I woke up Tom, and we began the usual frenzied rush of making all the necessary phone calls (midwives, the doula, the grandparents who needed to come watch our big kids), and getting all the last-minute items into my hospital bag.  Contractions did end up starting only a couple minutes later, but luckily, they were still not too close to transition-type contractions.

We made it to the hospital with enough time, and I was only about 4 cm dilated.  My doula showed up, I got into my usual position sitting on the labor ball with my doula pressing my back for me.....Okay, seriously, I'm a total creature of habit.  If you've read one of my birth stories, you've pretty much read them all!  Really, the only noteworthy thing about this part is that during a few of the contractions, a big gush of amniotic fluid would come out and creep along the floor and almost touch Tom's shoes (he was stationed in front of me, providing a steady force that I could brace myself against), and there was no way for him to escape the on-coming flood!  As soon as those contraction passed, and I was able to think again, I would just chuckle about it, as he ran to get more towels to clean it up :-)

I suddenly wasn't feeling sitting on the ball anymore, which is always my cue that transition is coming.  I moved to the bed, and sorta sat upright against the raised back, and just bore with the slowed contractions for the next hour or so.  Tom and my doula were asked to bring me many many icy wet rags to place on my forehead (Tom found it amusing that I kept asking, "can you make them any colder??" when he was literally having to pick the ice cubes off them before he placed them on me).

Suddenly, things started to really hurt, and I knew it was time to push.  Side-note: labor always hurts just as bad, no matter how many times you do it.  Doesn't it seem like it should get better over time?  Like, your body would stretch out or get looser or something?  After each of my babies is born, I am stunned anew at just how much it hurts.  And yet....it's "just" one day of pain....traded for a lifetime with your child.

Anyways, I had the nurses bring the big mirror on a pole.  I love that thing.  It lets me watch exactly what is happening while I'm pushing, and I find it incredibly motivating.  As soon as I can see how close that baby's head is, I am just ready to push it right out.  This whole phase was very quick again.  I think I pushed once to get a cervical lip out of the way, and then two more pushes, and he was born!  As usual, Tom was the emotional one, and he started crying.  I just sorta lay there in shock, clutching the baby to my chest, and thinking, "it's over! it's over!"

My whole labor was four and a half hours, which is my shortest yet.  Felix weighed 8lb.13oz, making him my biggest baby yet.  And actually, I think the two things may be related.  The lactation consultant at the hospital told me the next day that often, babies who were born from quick labors end up being heavier.  Basically, they didn't undergo as many contractions to help squeeze all the "stuff" out of them (I never really got clarification on what sort of stuff that was.  But the idea made sense to me).  Anyways, he didn't look like our biggest baby yet, and he's already been  small enough to fit into newborn size clothing for a lot longer than Linus - my only real "big baby" - ever did.  So I buy that explanation.

A half hour after birth, they brought me a breakfast tray!  Never was I more excited to eat!

New Baby!

On Friday morning, one day past his due date, we finally got to meet our newest little boy! 

After much heated debated, we finally settled on a name: Felix Amadeus.

Felix = "happy, fortunate"
Amadeus = "love of God"

He was 8lbs. 13 oz. (our biggest baby yet, though I swear, he looks smaller than Linus was at birth), 21" long, and in perfect health.

Twelve hours old

We're all doing well, I'm just really tired.  I don't know if I'm getting old, or what. It didn't help that the night he was born, I got a massive migraine that the post-partum nurses wouldn't let me sleep off (they woke me up constantly to "nurse the baby" - who wanted nothing more than to just keep sleeping all night - and check my vitals.)  Thankfully, Tom is home, we're taking the week off from homeschooling, and I am trying my best to get a nap in each day.  I think I'll manage to catch up enough on sleep by the end of the week that I can a least get through my days without being a total zombie.

Anyways, I'll try to come back soon with the birth story.

Flora's Birth Story

My labor with Flora was pretty different from those of my previous babies, whose labors had all pretty much followed the same pattern.

The reason for this is that she was in the posterior, or sunny-side-up position.  Linus had been facing this way as well, which had been very concerning to me as my pregnancy with him progressed.  During that last month of pregnancy, I tried all sorts of positions and tricks to help him to turn.  A week before he was born, much to my relief, he did turn, and I was able to have a very straight-forward labor.

This time around.....all I can say is, I got lazy.  I didn't feel like contorting myself into all the awkward positions each night after the kids were in bed, in hopes of turning the baby.  The midwives assured me that as long as a baby was head-down, a natural labor was totally possible....just that a sunny-side-up baby may take "more work." I guess I just decided I was willing to find out what "more work" meant...

On a Thursday morning, six days before my due date, I began having some light contractions.  I sent Tom and my doula texts to put them "on alert," and excitedly waited for them to pick up.  But they never did.  They just fizzled out.  Over the next four days, the same thing frustratingly kept happening.  I'd start having contractions, they'd build for a while, and then gradually peter our.  Night-times were the worst, for some reason, with a lot of extra strong contractions that kept waking me up every half hour.  On Sunday night,they got so bad that I couldn't stay lying down at all.  I attempted to take a bath, but my stomach was so large, it mostly stuck out of the water, and didn't benefit from the soothing warmth of the water at all.  I ended up "sleeping" (but not really) in a rocking chair in our bedroom, cushioned with every pillow I could gather from around the house,

That morning (Monday), Tom opened his eyes a little before his alarm rang, and I said, "I'm done!  This cannot continue another night.  I need to have this baby today!"  He suggested I try [TMI WARNING!] nipple stimulation to get the contractions to pick up.  I figured it was now or never, because I didn't want him to leave for work only to have me call him back home later.  Well, it was immediately effective.  Contractions quickly picked up to every six minutes - the closest and most regular they had been yet - and were getting stronger.  We started making the phone calls - to the midwives, my doula, and someone - anyone - who could come take all our kids at 7 in the morning.

Due to some miscommunication, my mother - who was the one supposed to be "on call" at that time - couldn't end up taking our kids.  We had to call my dad, who was already at work.  The midwife wanted me to come in right away, since I was GBS-positive this pregnancy, so there was no time to wait for my dad get to our house.  We had to take all the kids with us to the hospital where he would meet us to get the kids as soon as possible....even though this meant making him drive into the city during rush hour.

Tom and the kids brought me to the delivery room, then went out to walk the halls and wait for my dad (Tom didn't want to kids around to watch me in labor, since it would have been concerning to them and/or distracting to me).  My doula still hadn't arrived either.

I was getting a little concerned because - once again! - my contractions were starting to peter out.  I worried that the midwife would tell me I had come in too early, and we needed to go back home, and had just wasted everyone's time. But when she checked my dilation,   I was already 8 cm!  I guess the four days-worth of contractions really paid off!  She told me, "your bag of waters is right here.  I could break it now, and you'd have this baby."  I explained to her that I definitely did want her to break it soon (my water has never broken on its own, and I've always asked the midwives to do it when I'm close to the end and things are starting to stall out), but that I absolutely wanted to wait until my husband and my doula were there first!

Well, my doula arrived in pretty short order.  My husband was another story.  It ended up taking my dad an hour and a half to get to the hospital!  During that time, I was pretty much just chilling on a birth ball, having occasional - but not intense - contractions, and chatting with my doula and the friendly but socially-awkward nurse.

When Tom finally walked in, we were all very ready to get started.  "Alright, let's have this baby!" said my midwife.  She had me get back on the bed so she could break my water.  But - and I'm not entirely clear on the details here - the baby had changed position such that there wasn't much she could do.  The midwife could only access a little piece of the amniotic sac, and so hardly any fluid came out, and it didn't release much pressure.

My midwife said we needed to get contractions to pick up again.  She said I could try nipple stimulation again, or we could use Pitocin.  Well, Pitocin is basically my worst fear when it comes to birth (aside from a c-section), so I  agreed to try things the old-fashioned way.  Once again, it was immediately effective, and I began having strong contractions again.

After several contractions hadn't brought any progress, it was clear that the baby just didn't want to move down.  I was almost fully dilated, but the baby's head was still not fully engaged in my pelvis.  Because she was facing the wrong way, it was hard for her to move down - the geometry just didn't work out very well.

My midwife told me I'd have to push the baby down.  "Oh, but I don't feel like I have to push yet," I naively replied.  Yes, she told me, but I would have to push anyways. And while I did that, she would manually push back that last lip of cervix to try to get it over the baby's head.  Sounds fun, right?

I won't say it's the most painful labor I've experienced, but there was something quite unpleasant about those next five or six contractions.  I was asked to bring on each one myself, using nipple stimulation.  It was like I was willingly and knowingly subjecting myself to misery.....a feeling that's distinctly different from having to deal with a contraction that comes upon you on its own, a suffering that you just have to bear with.  My midwife would nod to tell me it was time to make another one happen. I would frown and whine, then just go ahead with it.  A contraction would start immediately, and then I'd have to push, even though my body didn't "want" to push.  It was strange and unpleasant.

As the nurse was setting up the room for the delivery, I asked her to bring over the mirror on a pole for me again.  I love that thing.  I've given birth to all my babies while semi-reclined on my back - which is actually a great position for me.  With the mirror at the foot of the bed, I can watch all the action as the baby is coming out, and I find it incredibly motivating.  After one of my pushes finally brought the baby down, and I finally saw her little head in the mirror, I was ready.  One big push, and she was out!

Tom may be a little embarrassed about me sharing this detail on the internet, but, well, he burst into tears as soon as he saw her...the way he's done at the birth of all our kids.  I think it's very sweet.  Meanwhile, I always just kind of lay there for a few moments in stunned silence, not sure if I can believe that it's finally over.

Flora was the most vernix-y baby I've ever seen.  Vernix is the naturally waxy/lotiony substance that protects the baby's skin in the whom.  But usually, most of it has been absorbed by the time they are full term.  She came out loaded with the stuff.  Several people in the room used, at various points, the very descriptive term "cheesy" to describe how she looked.  haha...eww.

"cheesy" baby

I will admit, I was a bit grossed out by it as I was holding her on my chest right after she was born.  At one point, I wiped my lips with my hand without thinking about it, and accidentally got a mouthful of vernix.  After that, I told the nurses I was good with them taking the baby to weigh her and clean her up!

The consensus of my midwives and my doula is that had Flora been facing the right way, I probably would have gone into labor on Thursday, when my contractions first started.  My body was trying to go into labor that whole time, but the baby just wasn't able to get low enough to help build the contractions.  It's funny, because I was thinking about it, and I'm pretty sure that all my labors have started on Thursdays.  I really think there must be an unconscious psychological reason for it....like, my body waits until the end of the week when things are lowest stress, and when it will be most convenient for Tom to miss a few days of work.

Tom showing off the baby footprints the nurse put on his arm

It amazes me how much humans depend on other humans sometimes to help them in labor.  I mean, this labor was "natural" in every way....I had no drugs or interventions.  And yet I relied so much on the knowledge and assistance of other people to help it happen.  Without my doula helping me stay relaxed and bringing me cold towels for my forehead....or without a midwife being a bit of a drill sergeant and insisting that I bring on contractions or push a baby down into the birth canal when I really didn't want to...or without her physically helping to break my water or open my cervix....what would have happened??

*****

Flora has been a very avid nurser as well as a frequent sleeper.  She's two weeks old now, but still sleeping a ton.  On the other hand, when she's awake, she's been pretty fussy.  She isn't as easy to calm down as my other babies were.  Primarily, because she really doesn't care for the pacifier.  I no longer doubt other parents who say that one of their kids doesn't take them!  I keep trying, but she's just not interested.  We're slowly figuring out what little "tricks" settle her down, but most of our tried-and-true methods from the other kids just don't work with her.  I guess she's just my little wild card.

Now that I have four kids' names to keep track of, I find myself mixing them up all the time.  I'm already acting like the stereotypical mom-with-a-big-family, calling my kids by at least two wrong names before I finally hit on the right one!

A New Baby

I interrupt my otherwise undefined "blogging break" to bring some happy tidings!

On Monday, a new little girl joined our family - Flora Therese.  Everyone is healthy and well.  She was in the posterior position ("sunny side up"), meaning it took me some extra work to get her out.  But as always, it was worth it.

We're all in love with our sweet new baby.

The kids had been well-prepared with lots of books and discussions about how babies grow and what they are like.  They have all been so anxious to meet her.  Sly should be genuinely helpful. Stella is quite willing, but I expect she will prove to be "too" helpful.  Linus is going to have some trouble learning to share his favorite spot - Mommy's lap.

The proud big brother

New Perspectives on NFP

I finally got around to reading Simcha's book The Sinner's Guide to Natural Family Planning.

I avoid ever paying full price for a book (I know, I know - it's good to support the author.  But it's also hard to fit in our budget.), and I didn't expect this one to show up in our library anytime soon.  I hoped to borrow it from a friend, but they were all reading Kindle versions (darn that new technology!).  I finally buckled down and bought it on Amazon (it's selling for a really reasonable price, so if you're still curious about it, buy it!) because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

I have to admit, I expected to hate it. Maybe I even wanted to hate it.  Despite all the reviews claiming that Simcha finally spoke the truth about the challenges of NFP instead of rhapsodizing about what a magical beautiful thing it is, I suspected that she must still be secretly "propagandizing" NFP - something I believe to be a legitimate, but often over-rated practice.

I was pleased to discover that this wasn't true.  She spoke a lot of sense in this book, and shared a great deal of wisdom - gained over the years of her marriage.  More than a guide about dealing with the challenges of NFP, I would say that this is a guide to how we fallen humans can live out a Christ-centered marriage.  Even though my husband and I are not using - and never have *really* used - NFP, there was still a lot for me to learn here.

It's an age-old truth, but something which has continually impressed me is the fact that with age and experience often comes wisdom.  Recently, I've gained a bit of understanding on something about NFP that used to baffle me.

I've shared some of my thoughts on NFP before (see here and here), so you might know that I'm pretty down on the way it is is commonly "sold" by Catholics.  I think people want so badly to provide an appealing alternative to contraception (which is always immoral) that they talk up NFP as being a positive thing, rather than the morally neutral tool that it is.  It's kind of like saying, "isn't it awesome that I got sick on Sunday and was dispensed from the obligation to attend Mass?!"  No, actually.  You may have been perfectly sinless in missing Mass, but it kinda sucks that you had to be sick, and I don't think it's anything to be thrilled about - even if it means you finally had a chance to pray five Rosaries.

At least some portion of my distaste for NFP came about because I just could not understand the motivations a lot of people had when deciding they needed to postpone another pregnancy.  Yeah - pregnancy and children are exhausting, but...who said life was supposed to be easy?  The primary purpose of marriage is procreation.  I suspected that NFP was often over-used by Catholics.  I tried very hard never to presume anything about particular people, but something always seemed "off" about the fact that pretty much every couple we heard about seemed to be using NFP to intentionally plan out each of their conceptions.  What ever happened to just accepting babies as they came - even when they came close?  Do you really need to jump right back into charting and postponing the second after you give birth?  Why do the midwives have to write down what sort of family planning I'm going to use at my 6-week post-partum checkup, and why won't they accept my answer when I tell them "none"?  I never understood the fear I sensed in other women over the thought of another pregnancy.

But then I gave birth to my third child.

When my first two kids were born - I mean the moment they were born - my very first emotions were this intense mixture of relief and "joy that a man has been born into this world" (Jn 16:21).  But when my sweet little Linus came out, I just felt numb.  Joyless.  Tom was weeping in happiness, our doula was praising my hard work and smiling at the beautiful baby we helped create, the nurses were all fussing over him.  And there was me just lying there, staring straight ahead.  Stiff with dread.  All I could think was "how many more times?  How many more times do I have to go through pregnancy?  Through labor and childbirth?  I don't want to do this for the next fifteen years straight.  I would like to never have to go through this again."

I'm not saying any of these thoughts were entirely rational.  And they weren't very holy.  But they were very human.

Even after we brought him home, my transition to caring for three kids - as I've mentioned before - was not easy.  It was NOT EASY.  For me to even admit this means it was a significant hardship for me. I am a person who is usually able to deal with stresses and challenges fairly well - I may get frazzled, but I never feel defeated.  But there were days this time around when I was not sure I could handle it.  When I felt like I was drowning.  I felt like I kept putting out feeble "calls for help", yet no one understood or listened.  Everyone expected me to be strong like always, and adjust to the new baby as easily as I had with the first two.  No one realized that I needed to be taken care of.

This expression of despair captures about how I felt

Tom and I have said from the beginning that we wanted a "big family" (whatever that means.  We don't have an ideal number - we're just thankful for what we get).  And we still do.  So it was hard for me for the longest time to understand why people could feel the need to postpone another baby unless there was some major major crisis in their life.  Why waste those fertile years?  Why go through the struggle and the hardship of trying to abstain and figure out God's plan each month, when you could just live out your married life naturally and let the babies come as they would?  Our grandmothers didn't have NFP to fall back on, and they had huge families, and seemed to be happy enough....

But I had begun to notice a trend on comment boards and internet forums.  In many cases, the people who were either the most critical about the use of NFP or the most fanatically impressed with it were rather young - with maybe one or two kids.  The ones who had the more measured and reasoned perspective on it were those who were older and often had many children: People who had endured the exhaustion and wear-and-tear of many pregnancies, but also felt pleasure and relief as their kids grew old enough to help and began to blossom into unique and wonderful people.  People who knew the anxiety and despair of an unintended pregnancy, yet had also found that those unplanned children were one of their life's greatest blessings.

I was talking to Tom only a few weeks before Linus was born about how I wouldn't be surprised if my perspective on welcoming new children continually changed as our family grew.  I realized that we could conceivably hit a point where we just felt too overwhelmed and as if we could use a break between pregnancies.  And now for the first time, I've had a taste of what that emotion is even like.

So I think I've gained some perspective now.  Every family and every person is different, and sometimes people really feel that they could use a "breather" between the babies in order to be a better parent.  (and I'm sure there are any number of other legitimate reasons for postponing a pregnancy, which I'm not mentioning now).  Most people wouldn't go through the struggle of practicing NFP unless they believed they had a legitimate reason.  Perhaps if they're honest with themselves, not all of those people do have legitimate reasons.  But maybe those reasons don't have to be as dire as I once thought.  If things hadn't settled down significantly for me this time around, maybe I'd be considering joining the ranks of those many confused women attempting to make sense of their wacky post-partum fertility signs right now...

But I am dealing better with everything.  Though life is still very busy with all the projects we're doing around the house, I think the toughest portion of the transition to having three kids has passed, and we've found a new rhythm.  (And um, can I just brag right here for a minute about my amazingly easy third baby?  He goes to bed at 9pm, wakes up once at 6 am to nurse, then goes right back to sleep until 10am or so.  It must be God's special gift to me!)  

So here's about how I'm feeling now: At this point, if someone told me "you are going to be handed a new baby in nine months", I'd say, "ok - things might be a little crazy, but I'm game."  But if someone told me, "starting today, you will have to suffer through another nine months of pregnancy, and then endure the travails of childbirth, and then have another child to take care of, making you the mother of four under five", I'd maybe flip out a little.  I really....don't like being pregnant (Tom is encouraging me to remove the word "hate" from my vocabulary).  But I do love new babies :-)

I still don't want to use NFP, and I still think it's important to think of it as something that is definitely less than the ideal.  But it's presumptuous to assume we will never have a reason to consider postponing a pregnancy.  Who knows what the future holds.  Who knows how my perspective will change as I gain experience and insights.  Seriously, I only have three kids now.  In my circles, that's a small family.  What do I really know yet about life and marriage and child-rearing?  Not much!  But I'm continually learning and growing.

Linus' Birth Story

"Put me back in!"

I had been warned by so many people that your third labor is often a "wild card."  Starting labor a week late was definitely unexpected, but other than that, the labor was much in the same pattern as my previous two kids.  And if anything, it actually went even more smoothly. I wish I could say that labor is less painful each time (wouldn't you think it should be?!), but it's definitely not.  Each time, though, I get better and better at dealing with the pain, and knowing what works best to help me through it.  So maybe in some ways, I could consider each of my deliveries "easier" than the one before.

 Building Towards Labor

I had been having contractions on and off each day for almost a week before I finally went into labor for real.  There had been so many false alarms and dashed hopes, and it was all very frustrating to deal with.  When labor started with my other two kids, it was very clear - but this time around, I was becoming convinced that my body was trying and just couldn't do it (Tom said it was like turning the throttle without starting the engine).  A number of women who had gone through similar situations assured me that the daily contractions weren't for nothing - that my body was doing real work to prepare for delivery, and that it would make the actual labor go more smoothly when it finally came.  I didn't want to hear that, though, so I didn't really let myself believe it.

Tuesday was one week past my due date.  I spent the morning cleaning the whole house.  What else did I have to do?  I even vacuumed the stairs, which was quite a feat consider the weight of our vacuum and the size of my stomach at that point.  Tom told me to take it easy, but I think my nesting urges were taking over.

I was scheduled to go see the midwives for a non-stress test in the afternoon just to make sure the baby was still doing alright.  While I was lying in the bed strapped to the heart monitor, I had a number of uncomfortable contractions.  The test finished up, baby looked good, and the midwife asked if I had any questions.  I told her that I was pretty much done being pregnant, and really just wanted this baby to come out.  She offered to check whether I was dilated, and to "sweep my membranes" if I wanted.  In case you are unfamiliar with the term, as I was, it is when the doctor/nurse sticks a finger inside your cervix and spins it in a circle to push the amniotic sac away from the cervix (not to break it).  Weird, I know.  Supposedly it releases prostaglandins which can help start labor.  She checked me, and I was already five centimeters dilated (I guess those contractions had been doing something afterall!), and then she did the - quite uncomfortable - membrane sweep.

I went home and settled on the couch to wait it out and see what might happen.  Tom was fortunately working from home that day, since he had needed to keep an eye on the older kids while I went to my appointment.  I continued having the occasional contractions, but wasn't getting my hopes up yet.  But two and a half hours later, things started to get real, and I knew it was finally finally time!  My dad was enlisted to come get the kids.  Unfortunately, it was 4:30pm at this point, and he was working in an office on the complete opposite end of town, so it was going to take him a while to get through traffic.

 The Hamburger Incident

So...earlier in the day, before I had known that labor would actually be starting, I had pulled out some ground beef to defrost, and had a conversation with Tom about all the ingredients I would be mixing into it to attempt some yummy restaurant-quality hamburgers for dinner.  Fast-forward to about 4:00 when contractions were starting to build (and I was already at LEAST five centimeters dilated, mind you).  Tom offered to make the dinner instead.  Fine and dandy.  Now fast-forward to 5:00, when I'm definitely in labor, and having to breathe through each contraction, and getting anxious because my dad is still not there.  Tom says something about how he'll just throw in a frozen pizza real quick instead (I figured he wanted to eat something himself before we left.  I figured the hamburgers were obviously totally out of the picture by that point).  I reminded him that the frozen pizza was all gone.  He said, "oh, well, I'll just figure something out", and went down to the kitchen, fortunately taking the kids with him to let me have some peace and quiet.

About fifteen minutes later, I hear pans banging all over the stove, and the unmistakable smell of hamburgers cooking.  What the heck?  I got really annoyed that instead of getting the kids' overnight bag and the other things I had asked him to collect around the house, or calling up the midwives for me, he was down there cooking hamburgers.  For who?  I certainly didn't want one, and I figured my dad was just going to feed the kids dinner.  We never even eat before 6:00 anyways.  I'm sitting upstairs alone and in pain, and he's down there surely making a huge mess in the kitchen [this fact was very much confirmed later], and he can't hear me when I call to him because he's banging around and sizzling up stupid hamburgers while I'm in labor!!!!

And then the kids must have sneaked away from him, because suddenly they were both upstairs with me, fussing because I wouldn't let them climb into my lap while I was sitting on the fun-looking exercise ball, and I started yelling for Tom to come up and get them RIGHT NOW!!  When he got up the stairs, I started into him: "Why the heck are you making hamburgers now?!  I DON'T WANT A HAMBURGER!!!!!"  He replied that he needed to feed the kids.  I yelled, "WE DON'T NEED TO FEED THE KIDS!  MY DAD CAN FEED THE KIDS!" and then we both started yelling, and things got ugly, and I finally screamed - yes, right in front of my children - "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!" and I slammed and locked the door in his face, and went to sit back on my exercise ball, and cry angry tears through the next few lonely contractions.

It was a bad moment, man.  I'm not proud of myself.  Truly, a woman's most animalistic instincts come out when she's in labor.

My dad finally arrived, and my emotions eventually settled down a bit.  The drive to the hospital was pretty silent, because Tom and I both needed some time to cool off.  Once we arrived there, I think there was an unspoken agreement to just forget it had ever happened, and deal with the business ahead.

Transition

My doula, Bethany, arrived within minutes and I got changed into the gown.  The midwife came in and checked me again - almost 8 centimeters dilated already! 

I was ready to get to work, so I asked the nurse to find me a birth ball.  Sitting on the ball had been my salvation with the other two labors - it feels great to just stay on it almost until it's time to push.   The nurse frowned and said, "oh...there are a lot of women here today who use the midwives...all the birth balls are in use."  Me, Tom, and Bethany exchanged looks of horror.  The nurse could see how important it was for me, so promised to see what she could do.  A few minutes later, she entered triumphantly holding a ball....the dinkiest little exercise ball I've ever seen. I'm not kidding, it was about a foot and a half off the ground.  I gave it a half-second chance, and it failed utterly.  I was practically sitting on the floor.  Not happening.

So I ended up just sitting in a chair for most of the labor.  It was a little harder for Bethany to sit behind me pressing my pelvis during contractions (which is always the thing my body "wants."  My labors follow a very similar pattern each time), but it worked.  Tom's job during contractions was the stroke my arms in a downward motion, helping me to stay loose and relaxed. 

I find that I'm very focused and business-like during my labors.  I know what I need, and I just ask for it.  By this point, I'm not hesitant to assign tasks to my husband or my doula as needed.  Between contractions, I either chat with them both or encourage them to chat together while I just relax.  When I feel a contraction about to start, I say, "ok!" and everyone gets into position, and stops talking until it's passed.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was already in the dreaded "transition" phase of labor.  When Stella was born, transition was really rough.  But transition with both Sly and Linus just meant slightly more intense contractions.  I realized later what made the difference: my water had already been broken before transition when I had Stella.  When an amniotic sac is still intact, it makes the contractions more gentle. 

During all of my births, I have had to ask the midwives to break my water for me.  All three midwives have also remarked about the unusual thickness of my sacs...haha (sorry, that's kind of a gross detail.  At least I will not be sharing with you the photo Tom took of it afterwards!).  Labor tends to slow way down for me towards the end, I ask the midwife to break my water, and then things pick right up, and a baby soon arrives.

Baby is Born

The slow-down started happening, and things were getting more painful.   I moved to sit upright in the bed.  Tom and Bethany were enlisted to place icy washcloths on my forehead and chest between contractions.  They were coming farther apart at this point, and between each one, I closed my eyes and almost fell asleep. 

Eventually, the midwife suggested she check me, and we consider breaking my water.  I was almost completely dilated, except for a small "lip" of my cervix.  She did break my water, and then wanted me to try other positions to make that lip move out of the way.  I absolutely did not want to try any of her suggestions.  I wanted to just recline in the bed and not support my own weight.  So I asked if she would be able to move it out of the way manually.  It just took a couple contractions, and she had cleared the way.  Baby was all ready to go, and I had the ok to push with the next contraction.

I was again disappointed my how under-equipped the hospital was that night, because they couldn't find the "mirror on a stand" which I had used when I had the other kids.  Some women have no interest in watching themselves give birth, but I find it extremely motivating to be able to see that my pushes are actually doing something.  The nurses searched every delivery room for the mirror with no luck.  So I had to do it blindly this time. 

It took the first contraction for me to remember what "pushing" is supposed to feel like, and where to focus my energy.  But I was ready for the next one.  In one gigantic and drawn-out push, Linus went from not even crowning yet to being completely born!  I was so determined to just get him out!

They put him on my chest immediately.  Tom started bawling with joy, as always.  I stared into space in shock and relief, as always, my whole body twitching with adrenaline. Labor was about six hours total, which is my fastest yet.

Anyways, Linus was perfectly healthy.  I didn't tear or have any complications, so my recovery has been fine.  I have to say, I am so so happy not to be pregnant right now.  And it's wonderful to have a snuggly little newborn in the house again.  I'm already getting sad because I know how fleeting this time is.

meeting their new little brother

Baby Number Three!!

Well, he's finally arrived!

 

Linus Joseph

Born 10: 11 pm on April 1st

8 lbs 8 oz. and 20 inches long

 

We're all doing well, and I'll give more details about the birth soon.

 

Deciding to surprise us all by being a week late was his first-ever April Fool's joke :-)

No Baby Yet...

Just in case anyone was wondering.

Today is my due date.  I know plenty of people go past their due date, so I really shouldn't be complaining or feeling as disappointed as I am.  Since my other kids came a little early, I was just totally mentally prepared for the same thing to happen this time around.  And then it didn't.  It's that darn "wild card third baby" thing everyone talks about.

I've never felt so "ready" before, though.  When I went into labor with Sly a week early, I had been fully anticipating going past my due date.  It took me five hours of contractions to finally admit to myself that it was the real thing.  I didn't have my bags packed or the car seat installed or anything fully set up yet.  When Stella came five days early, I still hadn't finished knitting her baby blanket or picking up any of the little baby items we needed to replenish.  But this time around, the bags (one for me at the hospital, and one for the kids for wherever they end up staying) are fully packed and waiting in the car.  I have purchased every last thing I "need" for the baby (including his very own pacifier clip, which I suddenly felt the urge to run out and get yesterday).  Everything is laid out and set up.  I've been extra on-top of the laundry to make sure no one will run out of clean clothes or diapers for the few days when I'll be unable to wash things.  I'm ready.

The most discouraging part was that last night at my midwife appointment, she had to initiate the discussion about all the things that would need to happen as I continued to stay pregnant past my due date.  I had to schedule a couple non-stress tests for next week.  And if nothing happens after two weeks, I'll have to head in for the dreaded induction. 

If I was planning on having an epidural for the birth anyways, I'd absolutely be saying "sign me up for that induction TODAY! I am sooooo ready to get this baby out."  But as I'm hoping for another natural birth, enduring the tortuous (and quite unnatural) Pitocin-induced contractions I've heard so many horror stories about is absolutely not what I want.  I know that I can deal with the sufferings and pains of birth, but I'm not a martyr. 

It's frustrating too, because I have a lot of things I need to get done for the new house - appointments to schedule, etc., but I have to just keep my schedule open, because I have no idea when the baby might arrive.  I can't put anything on the calendar.  I've shown up to a few social events in the past few days that I had been assuming I wouldn't be able to attend....and then just feeling rather depressed that I'm there at all, because it means I didn't have my baby yet, as hoped.  I haven't been planning any meals or keeping many groceries in the house, because I worry I may end up not using them and letting things go to waste.  So every dinner for the past week has come out of a sort of a last-minute scrounging effort, once I've admitted to myself that this day is, unfortunately, not going to be the day either.

Sorry for all the complaining in this post.  I know I'm not being very rational right now.

Anyways,  I should go see what sort of dessert I can whip up from things we have in the pantry, since today is the Feast of the Annunciation...another great potential birthday for any little babies who might decide to be born today....(please, baby!).

The Baby Turned!!

I wrote yesterday about how nervous I was getting, at 39 weeks pregnant, having a baby that was stubbornly continuing to face forward ("sunny side up")  rather than backward.  Many of you offered your advice, experiences, and prayers, and I am so grateful - thank you, all.

I spent a lot of time yesterday evening "researching" what might be in store for me with a sunny side up labor, and getting more and more determined to get that baby turned around.  I kept coming across scary phrases like "long drawn-out stop and go labor" and "excruciating back pain."  The gist I got was: "yes, it's very possible to have a natural birth when the baby is in the posterior position, but OH MY GOSH do everything possible to make it flip before then!!"

Here are the primary methods I tried:

1. Going through the Miles Circuit, suggested to me by my ever-reliable doula.

2.  Having Tom use a make-shift rebozo on me (a bed sheet). It is a pretty silly-looking operation, and it was hard not to laugh through it.



3. Being mindful of leaning forward while sitting, rocking on an exercise ball while I did the ironing, and avoiding any sort of reclining position whatsoever.  I wish someone had stressed to me how important it was to avoid too much laying around during the end of pregnancy....you know, before I spent every night during the past few months alternately lying in a warm bath reading a book, or lying on the couch knitting and watching movies!

4. Fervently praying that the baby would turn.


I can't say exactly which of these was the clincher (though #4 probably played a big role), but somehow, miraculously, it worked!  When I went to my midwife appointment today, two midwives confirmed that the baby had turned himself the right way. 

I feel so relieved.  And as if I'm finally "ready" for this to happen.  Tomorrow is St. Joseph's Day, which is the day I've sort of been hoping for as our new little son's birthday.  We'll see.... :-)

From a 1931 Obstetrics Textbook

A few months back, I found a gem of a book for $1 at a thrift store.  It's a rather fragile 1931 textbook written for those learning to be obstetric nurses.  I have a real interest in learning about pregnancy and childbirth, especially in the history of how these processes were approached in times past as compared to the modern ways.

Not surprisingly, things were rather different in the early 30's.  Many women still gave birth at home, though a lot of them went to special hospitals for the birth.  After the baby was born, women were expected to stay in bed (called "lying-in") for at least two weeks.  Doctors still often worked on women "blindly", reaching in to examine them under a sheet, so as to preserve her modesty.  And the doctors and nurses were absolutely obsessed with sterilization.  This isn't surprising.  At this time, people had finally come to understand that the "puerperal fever" which had tragically killed so many new mothers during the previous century was actually the result of infection - often unknowingly caused by the doctor himself.  But this was still before the advent of antibiotics.  So the best solution was to just be extremely rigorous about making everything completely and utterly aseptic.

So you get unsettling suggestions like,

"Some parturients [women in labor] are unruly, and persist, against advice, in putting the hands on the sterile abdominal towel or even on the vulva.  In such a case the nurse should tie them loosely at the head of the bed."

I can't say I'd appreciate giving birth with my hands tied to the bed.  My favorite part of this quote is that such women are called "unruly"!

***

The book explained another practice I just could not abide, the lying-in period after birth:

"The writer's practice is to allow the woman to have the back-rest on the fifth day, to sit bolt upright on the seventh day, to get out into a rocker or Morris chair on the tenth, stand on her feet on the eleventh, have the freedom of the room on the twelfth, and go down stairs on the fifteenth day."

Ugh.  I could be forced to spend maybe one day lying in bed after birth, but beyond that, it would be torturous.  I need to be up and moving again!

***

Some of the baby-care practices were pretty different from today as well.  It seems the nurses urged mothers to waste no time in getting the baby on a strict nursing schedule and to commence immediate sleep training:

"The baby is put to the breast every eight hours until the milk comes, then every four hours during the day, but not during the night.  The first nursing is a 6 A.M., the last at 10:30 P.M., and the child is put to the breast once during the night if it seems really necessary.  The four-hour schedule is for robust children.  Those under 2700 Gms. [5.95 lbs] and those that do not gain after the eighth day have a three-hour schedule: 6, 9, 12, 3, 6, and the last feeding about 10 P.M."

Four hours between nursing?!  How could anyone stand to wait so long?  Most babies would start screaming long before four hours had passed (and I'm sure the breasts would be uncomfortably teeming).  I'm all for gradual night-time weaning, but a newborn baby is just not ready to go for an eight-hour stretch without nursing at night.  I really wonder how many women still followed this schedule, after they were out from under the watchful eye of their nurses.

***

There was a section about the baby's layette, and what materials you should prepare.  So many women still made clothes by hand (either sewing, or knitting) at this time.  I was particularly interested in the recommendations for cloth diapers, since I wanted to see what was used then as compared to all the fancy types we have available these days.  The book recommends:

"Four to six dozen diapers of cotton diaper cloth 20x40 inches.  These can be bought in sealed packages or made at home.  Two dozen cheese-cloth squares 1 yard square to use folded inside the diaper.  Ten or twelve dozen pieces of clean white absorbent cloth 10 inches square (old linen or cotton) to be used inside the diapers."

I'm very curious about how this worked.  Did the "diaper" go on the outside sort of like a diaper cover, with the cheese-cloth acting as a "doubler" and the white absorbent cloth as a "diaper liner" (to use the cloth diaper parlance of today)?


In the section explaining the type of stockings you should get for your baby (presumably because the babies of the time were all put in dress-like garments, and their legs might get cold), they suggest

"machine-made woolens...which are easily washed and fit comfortably over the diaper at the knee."

Huh?  The knee?!  Just how huge were those diapers?  Or is it just because newborn's knees tend to be bend upwards all the time?

 ***

Anyways, it's been an interesting book to read.  I'm not even halfway through yet, but if I find anymore ponderables like these, I can share them in a future entry.  

Though I've peeked ahead to the "Grave Disturbances During Pregnancy" and "Complications During Labor" chapters and let me tell you, there are some pretty gruesome pictures there.  It might be best for me to wait until after I've given birth.

Stella's Birth Story

Stella's due date was August 21st, but Tom and I had a feeling that she might come a little early.  My own birthday was on the 15th, and the whole day, I kept thinking "I hope she doesn't come today!".  It will sound selfish - (maybe because it is) - but I just don't like the idea of having shared birthdays in the family.  I think everyone (uhh, myself included...) should get to have their own special day.  I didn't end up going into labor that day, which was nice, since it meant Tom and I actually got to go out to dinner alone for once while my mom babysat.  But as we were getting into bed that night, slightly after midnight, I said, "okay - my birthday's over.  Baby can come now."  Then I stopped, and corrected myself, "Actually....no.  The baby can come in the morning, after I've had a good night's sleep!" 

Well, she must have heard me, because she decided to do just that!  The next morning, I woke up around 6:30, I believe because I was having a contraction.  I wasn't sure yet if it was the real deal or just Braxton-Hicks, so I went down to use the bathroom.  I had another contraction of two.  Realizing from the intensity that it was probably the start of labor, and I wasn't going to get back to sleep anyways, I decided to just take a shower and wait for Tom to come down to get ready for work (I could already hear his alarm going off) so we could figure out what to do.  That lazy bum just kept hitting the snooze button, though!  I decided to get as much stuff done as I could, before the contractions got debilitating.  In record time, I showered (AND blow-dried my hair!), brushed my teeth, put on makeup for the day (!), and mostly finished packing a hospital bag for me and a "staying with grandparents" bag for Sly.  At 7:10, I was heading back up to the bedroom to get dressed, when I found Tom standing very groggily beside the bed, having just finally woken up.  "Call work, and tell them you're not coming in today", I said as I walked in.  He snapped awake then!  "The baby's coming?!"  Yep.

I started assigning tasks to him - helping me get Sly up and ready, making calls to the doula, the midwife, and my dad (who would be watching Sly).  I  had figured we'd have a little more time before we needed to leave for the hospital, but the contractions were already coming on pretty strong and close (3-4 minutes apart!).  I know that can happen with second babies.  It finally hit me and I said, "We have to go to the hospital NOW!  We don't have time to wait for my dad to get here!  Call him back and tell him to pick up Sly at the hospital!"

Even though this all happened during morning rush hour AND the hospital we had to go to was downtown, we still managed to make it there in fifteen minutes - one thing that's awesome about living where we do.

Once we were out of the car and getting checked in at the hospital, Sly got to witness Mommy having some contractions, and experiencing obvious pain.  This was, understandably, pretty upsetting for him.  I definitely had not planned for him to still be around when I was that far along!  Tom had to start distracting him each time a contraction began.  My dad didn't arrive until we were already in the labor and delivery room (and he courteously stayed outside the door).  When we told Sly he had to leave with Pap, he burst into tears and seemed very concerned and scared.  He's had enough experience with hospitals to know that they are not a place he wants to leave his Mommy!

The midwife who was on call that day happened to be the very one I was hoping I'd end up with - she's the most senior one in the practice, and always seems very confident and reassuring.  She checked me, and I was dilated four centimeters.  After only an hour and a half since starting any contractions, this was definitely moving along more quickly than the first time.

I asked for a birth ball - that had been my saving grace during my labor with Sly.  Our doula, Bethany arrived in pretty good time, considering that she had had to fight through rush hour traffic as well.  I soon stationed her and Tom into the roles I needed them each to fill.  While I sat on the ball, Bethany was on a stool behind me, ready to press on my lower back/pelvis each time a contraction came on.  Tom was at my side, instructed to rub my leg in a very specific intended-to-be-calming manner (and it took him about an hour to finally understand exactly what I wanted!), as a way to help distract me from the pain.

I have to say, I think I handled the next few hours pretty well.  Each time a contraction hit me, I was able to just get "in the zone", relaxing my body and letting my mind wander to what it would.  In the time between the contractions, sometimes I would just rest, almost falling asleep.  At other times, I would join in the on-going conversation between Tom and Bethany (which they, of course, paused each time I was having contractions and needed their attention!).  We were all just sharing stories and catching up on each other's lives since we last saw her two years ago, when Sly came along.

I had brought my iPod and the speakers for it.  I am only a little ashamed to admit that I own almost the entire catalogue of Enya's music.  It's the perfect thing to listen to at a time when you need to relax.  So I had Tom play through all the albums during the course of the labor.  I think we ended up listening to eight Enya albums by the time it was all over - even the Christmas one.  I specifically remember "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" playing sometime a little before Stella was born.

When we had first arrived at the hospital, Tom predicted that she would be born by noon.  Given the "fast and furious" start to things, I didn't disagree.  But after a couple hours laboring on the ball, I'd noticed that things were definitely slowly down.  The midwife came to check me again, and I was dilated to seven centimeters.  She said that usually, the water has broken by then, and that this is why things were slower.  When the amniotic sac is pressing on the cervix, it's much gentler than a baby's head.  The same thing had happened when I was laboring with Sly.  The nurses joked that my body must just make extra-tough amniotic sacs.  As I had done during my first labor, I finally asked the midwife to break my water herself to help speed things along.

Once she had done that, things got intense pretty quickly.  Sitting on the ball was no longer working for me.  I ended up kneeling over the raised head of the bed.  I can't say this position was comfortable at all, but I don't think anything would have been.  I'm pretty sure this is when I hit the phase they call "transition."  Basically, the contractions were much more painful, and even in the space between contractions, I still felt terrible.  No more steady, quiet breathing to get through them.  I started whimpering and whining my way through.  I was feeling really hot, so Bethany kept bringing cold washcloths for my forehead.  At one point, I complained, "I'm so hot!", and Tom and her just pulled off my entire hospital gown, leaving me completely unclad.  It wasn't my intention, but it felt better, so I let it go.

It was at this point that I started asking myself, "WHY did I choose natural birth, again?  Why didn't I want any drugs?  How many other women these days understand how much this hurts?"  ...Well, too late now!

I'd say this "transition" phase only lasted a short while.  My conception of time during the labor isn't very strong, but maybe just fifteen minutes?  I could soon tell it was getting close to pushing time.  All during this pregnancy, I'd been thinking I would want to deliver the baby on hands and knees.  I was "forced" to deliver Sly in the traditional lying-on-the-back with knees in the air position, since I was bed-bound at the end of the labor due to preclampsia.  You always read about how that's one of the worst and most unnatural positions to give birth.  But this time around, the hands and knees thing was just NOT what my body wanted.  The midwife had me try out side-lying, which was also absolutely terrible.  I eventually settled on that same position lying on my back, though.  I'm not sure if it was just the familiarity of it, or what.  I have to say, though, it seems to have several advantages over some other birthing positions.  Most importantly, you don't have to support any of your own weight on your legs or knees.  You therefore get a little bit of rest in between pushes.  And the nurses/doula can hold up your knees for you, so you don't have to worry about it.  Plus, they can bring you the awesome mirror on a stand so that you can actually get a view of just what is happening down there.  I found that really motivating while I was pushing ("Ok, there's the head, I'm going to make sure it comes down a little more this time").

According to our doula, the whole pushing phase was about fifteen minutes.  It took a little while to work the baby down.  Once her head was ready to come out, though, it only took two pushes - this is, without a doubt, THE most excruciating feeling ever.  As soon as I felt it again, I remembered.  But at least it goes quick.  And once the head's out, the body just slides right out as well.

So then, suddenly, there she was.  A tiny, wet, black-haired little girl, shuddering and crying on my chest.  Tom was crying pretty hard too.  I was just filled with adrenaline, shaking, and staring hard into Tom's eyes, trying to communicate somehow the depth of unexplainable emotion I was feeling.  This was 1:38 pm.  Her Apgar scores were perfect.  I think everything went, really, as well as it could have.

I didn't tear at all during the delivery, as I had when Sly was born.  And I have to say, it made recovery MUCH easier.  Two days later, I felt up to normal household tasks, stairs, and all those other things it took me longer to get back to last time around. But the baby belly didn't disappear nearly so fast this time around.

We didn't know yet, for sure, what we would call her.  Stella had always been pretty high on the list.  Once everyone had left us, and it was just the three of us in the room, we tried out all the names we had talked about during the pregnancy, and decided that was the one.


And by the evening of her birth, I was already able to say, "yes, that was all worth it.  The nine long, often miserable months of pregnancy...the agonizing pains of labor...it was worth it to get her."  Seven hours of labor, only the last hour of which was really that bad.  And what do I get for it?  A lifetime (hopefully) with my baby, my daughter.  A new human soul brought into the world, and to live ever after in eternity.  How awesome.

New Baby Girl!

Stella Maris

Born on Thursday, August 16th

8 lbs 3 oz., 20 inches

We are both healthy and the whole family is, of course, very happy!  I'll write up the birth story soon :-)