The Kiddos

Just some updates on the people who have been consuming all my blogging time!

Sly is still ever ever ever so slowly learning to read.  He's doing a little better these days at imaginative play, which I feel has never come very naturally to him.  Rosie suggested that a good way to get kids playing on their own is to first sit down with them, and sort of "teach them how to play."  Once they get the hang of a new concept, you can sneak away and they'll have a fun time on their own.  I've been trying this recently, and having much success.  For example, I got out the toy cash register Sly received for Christmas, and said we were going to play "supermarket."  The kids helped me arrange all our play food by type on the shelves of an empty bookcase I brought into the playroom.  Then I gave them a little basket so they could "shop."  They brought their purchases to me at the cash register, I rang them up, and then told them how much play money to hand me.  They loved it, and have been playing store very regularly since.

Recently, he was frustrated because we've stopped buying juice.
Me: "Well, juice has a lot of sugar, Sly, and it kind of makes kids crazy."
Sly: "Juice doesn't make *me* crazy. Stella makes me crazy!"

Meanwhile, I've finally accepted that Sly's  "love language" is quality time, and the only way to keep him from acting out, hurting his siblings, and other wise acting crazy is to give him lots and lots and lots of it.  Sometimes I feel like there's not enough time in my days to give each kid all the attention they want plus keep up with the cleaning, laundry, meals, dishes, etc.  But I'm learning little ways to make it work.  This past week, I worked really hard to include Sly in everything I did.  He helped me in a lot of my chores, and I even popped up into his bedroom during his "naptime" (during which he hasn't actually napped for two years) to chat or play for a few minutes.  It's made him a much more pleasant little man!

Sly probably whacked Stella with that sword a second after this picture was taken

Stella is speaking in full (adorable) sentences now, and wanting to do a lot more things herself ("do myself!").  She still can not get enough snuggle time.  Her "love language" is absolutely physical touch.  She constantly runs up to Tom and I, saying, "I want YOU, Mommy/Daddy!!" which means she wants to be held and hugged and kissed.  She really is just a big sweetheart.

She's still resistant to potty training, but I'm not that eager to push it during the winter, anyways.  Too many layers to pull off, and the potty seat is too cold for her to just sit on, waiting.  But she's so good about naps and bedtime.  Many days, she is just ready for sleep and says, "go nap now, Mommy."  I love how she is so eager to please :-)

She's been playing with her dolls all the time, and it's so cute to see how she treats them like her real little babies.  She asks to put (real)band-aids on them, give them (real)medicine, put them in the (real)bathtub, and change their diapers.  Several times, I have found Linus' clean diapers in Stella's bed, which she must have stolen from under the changing table to put on her babies!

first snow of the year

Linus is still a very sweet and happy baby.  And he's learned to crawl, which I love.  Not only are crawling babies completely adorable, but it means they are able to entertain themselves much more easily.  He's happy to just get around the house and play with things he finds.  The only drawback is having to put baby gates up at the tops of the stairs....which we're still working on, because Tom's determined to find a creative way to do it without drilling into the nice woodwork.

Big Messes at the Museum

Disclaimer: 

If you don't like hearing stories about dealing with bodily functions (i.e. being a parent), then this one isn't for you!

We have friends visiting from out-of-town, so yesterday, Tom took the day off work and we all went to the museum - five adults and seven kids under age four. 

Linus and I managed to sneak off on our own for a bit to look at a new exhibit I wanted to see in the art museum while the older two stayed with Tom and our friends in the natural history portion.  By the time I caught up with them, Stella was already done.  She was screaming her head off, and not willing to do anything.  Tom and I decided to split off from the group for a bit and take the kids to the children's area where there are fun things they're allowed to touch and hold, hoping she would calm down.

Soon after sitting down in there, Linus got to work making an enormous diaper, and soon began crying himself.  Because I hate carrying diaper bags around, I usually bring only the bare necessities: one diaper apiece and a small pack of wipes.  I could tell Linus was ready for his one allotted diaper, and maybe Stella was too, so I started looking around for a good place to change them.  Normally, I would just find a handy bench or corner and change the baby there, but the docents at the museum have eagle-eyes and do not let you pull stuff like that.  Plus, it was going to be a stinky one, and I knew I might need access to a sink.

I asked the docent in the children's room where the nearest bathroom was, and he told me to go down the hall and down the stairs....hmm, that wasn't going to work out well with the stroller.  Stella had started screaming again, and by this point, we had literally cleared out the room.  The only person left was the young male docent, awkwardly eying the family with the two screaming children, unsure what he could do to help.

I took Linus out of the Ergo carrier - which I left hanging off my waist - so I could bounce him around more effectively and try to calm him down.  Between his cries and my huge exaggerated bounces, I was attempting to explain to Tom - who couldn't understand me well because he was holding the screaming toddler - that we needed to go find a bathroom and get the kids' diapers changed.

And then: the explosion happened.  Linus finished up that diaper he'd been working on in one tremendous blowout.  Baby poop was all over the place.  It was covering my hands, my shirt, and absolutely dripping down the inside of the Ergo.  It probably got on the floor too.  I don't even know.  I just said, "We have to go NOW!" and took off, catching just a glimpse of the docent's shocked and fearful gape.

We all hurried to the elevator, but it wasn't arriving fast enough.  "I'll take the stairs with Linus!" I said.  "Meet me outside the bathroom!" I followed the signs for the bathroom as I ran down the stairs - they took me down several floors.  When I finally got inside, there wasn't even a baby-changing station.  But at least there was a little table I could work on.  Women and their daughters kept coming in and out, and it was making me more flustered.  As they squeezed around me standing there at the table, they all took a peek to see the disgusting mess I was working with.

Linus had to be totally stripped down.  His onesie and diaper went into a plastic bag I'd brought, and I cleaned him up with some the rest of the pack of wipes and put his one clean diaper on.  I didn't have a spare outfit for him.  Sorry, baby.  I was anxious to start scrubbing down my shirt and the Ergo, but I was afraid to leave Linus alone on the little table since there was nothing to strap him down with.  And now when I could have used them as baby-holders, there were no other women coming into the bathroom.  I couldn't put him on the floor since it was gross and wet and, you know, he was basically naked.

"Where the heck is Tom?" I wondered.  I was standing there covered in poo, holding Linus on the table, waiting to hear Tom's voice in the hall.  I pulled out my phone (carefully, since it was in the front pocket of the very soiled Ergo), and tried to call him.  No reception in the bathroom.  Sigh.  I unclipped the Ergo from my waist, threw it into a sink, picked up Linus, and went into the hallway, hoping no one would recognize what the yellow stuff all over my shirt was.

I tried calling Tom again.  He answered. Through the poor reception, echoing marble halls on my end, and shrieking toddler on his end, we attempted a conversation that went more or less like this, "WHERE ARE YOU?!"  "WHERE ARE YOU?!"  "I'M OUTSIDE THE BATHROOM, I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU!" "I'M OUTSIDE THE BATHROOM, I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU!"

Tom had found a different bathroom somewhere - a "family restroom" which I really wish I had found in the first place, since his presence would have greatly simplified cleanup - and was waiting for me outside of it.  I explained where I was so he could come help.  He showed up a few minutes later with the older kids - Stella still screaming in his arms - and took Linus in his other, so I could go back in and unsuccessfully attempt to get the yellow stains off everything.

To make the day just a little more gross, a short while later, I noticed a suspicious-looking brown stain on the shoulder of Tom's shirt where Stella had been sitting - in a dress - a little earlier.   She got her own diaper change shortly after.

Crazy people that we are, we ended up staying at the museum another couple hours.  We put some food into Stella which calmed her down considerably (Tom claims she gets her "hanger" = hungry+angry from me).  Poor Linus was put back, naked except for a diaper, into a damp but dry-paper-towel-lined Ergo to be carried around for the rest of the afternoon.

Heh, it worked out.


***

In the same vein....last night while we were praying the Rosary, Stella went over and grabbed the seat off her potty (no, she's not anywhere near being potty trained!  Mommy was overly-optimistic about being able to reduce the number of diapers she changes each day) and placed it on Tom's head like a hat.  Everyone else stayed focused and prayerful, but mature person that I am, I snickered about it for a good while.

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.

The House, the Kids

Things have been busy around here.  Taking care of the kids is taking up a lot of my time...we still haven't quite hit our groove after the newest addition.  And any spare moment I get is spent working on some sort of "project" in our new house, or running out for yet another trip to a "home improvement store" for supplies.  Tom's been pointing out that we keep starting new projects without actually finishing all the "open" ones.  I realized that he's right, because lo and behold, I don't have any completed project pictures to show on here yet!  Soon, hopefully :-)

Here's one sneak peek, though.

 The off-white/green combo is the "before" and the white/teal is the "after"...

***

I set up a sandbox in the backyard for the kids.  Well technically, I set up the empty box, and my husband handled the sand.  I could not lift those 50 pound bags!  We've been lugging this dang thing from house to house since Sly was a baby - my mom gave it to him as a gift when he was much too young for it.  And then we didn't have a yard for a long time.  It's good to finally get some use out of it. 

The first time the kids played in it was while Tom was watching them on his own.  I went out with friends one evening, and suggested playing in the sandbox as a fun activity for them while I was away.  I got a text from Tom a little later saying, "this sandbox sucks.  There's sand everywhere!!".  Teehee. 

The kids enjoy it, but I'm not sure how long it will last.  We already forgot to put the lid on one day, and now it's filled with pine needles and rain water...

***

We attended a friend's wedding last weekend.  It was a Ukrainian Catholic wedding, and by far the most beautiful wedding I've ever attended.  And that's including my own, which was the traditional Mass, and also quite beautiful!  The prayers, rituals, and symbolism were so edifying.  During the ceremony, the bride and groom are each crowned by the priest.  As my friend's program explained:

The bride and groom are crowned as "king and queen" of their own home, a new Christian kingdom, which they will guide with wisdom and love as an extension of the Kingdom of God.

The crowns also recall the victorious crown of martyrdom, since every true marriage involves self-sacrifice from each spouse.  The word martyr means 'witness,' and the couple will bear witness to Christ's presence in their lives, which requires both to die to themselves and to give their own lives for the other.

What a powerful symbol!  It definitely inspired me to commit myself more strongly to my own wedding vows.

***

This little man has been growing like crazy.  He's my biggest baby by far, hitting the 97th percentile for length, and almost as high for weight!  At seven weeks old, he started wearing six-month clothes, and I would not be surprised if he's up to the next size soon. 

It's actually kind of nice, because it means Sly's hand-me-downs might actually be the right sizes for the right seasons now.

***

And my Stella is turning into quite a troublesome toddler.  Her obsession with toothbrushes (which is really gross, because she carries and uses everyone's toothbrushes all over the house) is finally being re-directed.  But now she's become interested in my makeup.

First she found my eye liner, and decided to put some on herself.  She watches me very intently every time I'm applying makeup - and actually hands me the next item, in the proper order.  I don't usually wear eye liner, but when I was dressing up a bit for the aforementioned evening out, she was watching in fascination as I applied it.  So a little later when she sneaked into my makeup and grabbed my eye liner, she knew exactly what to do with it.  Kind of.

Then I caught her applying some very expensive concealer to one of her dolls.

  I think it's time to move my makeup to a safer place!

***

By the way, if you're wondering why I'm willing to spend a lot of money on concealer, let me show you this.

This is me at age four (with a terrible haircut, so try not to linger on that).  My eyes already had noticeable dark circles then.  Age and motherhood have not made that problem any better, I assure you.


 

***

Yesterday, I was reading through some old e-mails from my mom's sister.  She's the person in the family who is interested in our genealogy, and keeps all the photos and records (every family has one of those, right?).  She had sent a photo of my grandmother as a young woman along with her siblings and parents.  This picture was taken right after they'd received the news that her brother had been killed in the war (WWII).

my grandmother is on the far left

Look how stricken everyone is.  I thought it was fitting that I found this on Memorial Day.  It's so easy to think of it as just a fun day to have a cookout, but sometimes it's good to be reminded of what it's really about.

"We Only Make One Model"

There are some families where each of the children looks fairly unique - different hair color, face shape, etc.  And then there are those families where the kids might as well be clones of each other.  You see one of the siblings who you've never even met before, and you immediately say, "he has to be a Jones/Williams/whatever last name."  Our family is turning out to be an example of the latter.  As soon as I saw Linus' little upturned button nose on his ultrasound picture, I knew he would look just like his big siblings.

I've been amazed how much he looks like Sly, especially.  I keep looking back at Sly's old baby photos to compare.  A few times, I've shown a photo to Tom to have him guess which son it is (he's got most of them correct!).

Here's a silly little graphic.  I feel soooo tech-savvy now that Tom showed me I could use Powerpoint to do things like this ;-)

I feel guilty about it, but that photo of Linus in the bottom right is literally the only picture of him I've taken in two weeks (with the exception of our bad family Easter photo, where he's just a little blurry bit of skin peeking out of a car seat).  I guess that's how it goes with third children.  I still love you, little man!

****

I think I'm doing better dealing with all the kids now.  I was feeling really overwhelmed and hormonal for the first three weeks.  I had a new house where I couldn't find anything I needed, two "big kids" running crazy, and a baby who needed to nurse every time the big kids were finally distracted by a quiet activity.  I could barely keep up with the everyday stuff like laundry or feeding the kids breakfast before 10:30, let alone unpacking or running errands.  I cried a fair number of times, and yelled at the kids much more than I should have.

Two things have really been a lifesaver for me, though.  My mom's group set up a Mealtrain for me.  We've been getting three homecooked (by other people!) meals brought to us each week.  Usually, the portions are generous enough to stretch it into at least one more dinner and a lunch or two during the week.  Also, my mother-in-law gave us a few months of a diaper service.  Once a week, a clean new load of cloth diapers get dropped off on the porch, and I send off the bag of dirties.  No washing diapers!

I'm finally starting to find my rhythm, though.   We're mostly unpacked now, and starting to move into the "project" phase with the house.  So while the house doesn't look as pretty or put-together as I envision it being in the future, at least I know where everything is, and I'm not stepping around boxes anymore.  I've re-established as much of a schedule as I can with a newborn, and I've even taken all three kids out my myself a number of times (yesterday, we made it to three stores in a row!).  It takes longer, and it's a pain strapping and unstrapping all the carseat buckles and stopping to nurse everywhere we go, but it's doable. (My mom gave me the highly-praised ERGO Baby Carrier as a gift when Linus was born, but I still haven't figured out how to nurse in it).

I find myself going back to read this article again and again.  It's one of the most memorable - and re-assuring - posts I've ever read: The Tunnel of Parenthood.  I'm totally there right now.  I just need to keep pushing through!

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 :-)