And Then There Were Five

Reader discretion:  This is a birth story and will include frank descriptions of bodily functions and the birth process.

At 6am I was vaguely aware that Jeremy was up out of bed returning one of our kids to their own bed.  I felt a sudden wetness between my legs, and instantly wondered and hoped it was my water breaking.  

I've never had my water break spontaneously before, and I didn't feel or hear the "pop", but after sitting on the toilet a few minutes I was sure I wasn't just passing urine.  I had called Jeremy, and we just sat looking at each other.  He wondered what we do next, and I said, 'Wait for contractions to pick up.'  

We tried to go back to bed.  Twice I put on a pad and lay on a towel, to just quickly jump up out of bed and run to the bathroom!  Finally, I decided to just sit in the empty tub on a towel for a while.  After a little while the leaking slowed down so I got out to join the rest of the family.  Jeremy had already begun to tidy up the house, so we worked on that for a few hours and my contractions slowly started coming closer together and being stronger.  

At 9 we texted some friends about having the boys over and I texted my midwife about my waters and 5 minute-contractions.  She asked if I was ready for her to come over and I told her, "Not just yet."  

I had a couple of pretty serious contractions during breakfast, so we told the boys they needed to get dressed and clean up their trains and Lego's and then we'd take them over to friends' houses.  But during the hour it took to do that my contractions slowed down and got easier.  

At my midwife appointment the day before, she determined that my previously-optimally-positioned baby had slid towards my back to a posterior positioning.  I had spent much of the previous day on my hands and knees to try and give him the opportunity to align himself better, so I did some more of that.  But the contractions stayed sparse.  

We decided, since we needed a few things, to go take a walk around Target to encourage contractions.  It's just around the corner from our house and I packed a towel in my diaper bag just in case I ended up needing to wrap myself up in it and run out!

At 1pm we were in the Jimmy Johns drive through for lunch when my midwife texted me for an update.  She suggested I pick up some castor oil on the way home--since my waters had broken we really needed to have the baby "today".  

At 2pm I drank a fruit smoothy with 2 Tbls castor oil mixed in.  Around 3pm my contractions started to pick up just a little.  At 3:40 we decided to have Jeremy take the boys to friends' houses.  Rory woke up from his nap just in time to go out the door, and I had Jeremy take a picture of me holding him one last time as my "baby".  

As soon as Jeremy left the contractions intensified.  I went in to the bathroom and (aided by the castor oil) emptied my bowels through a number of contractions.

I texted my midwife that she could come over now because contractions had picked up and I was interested in checking on the baby.  (Though I really wanted to insert a disclaimer about not thinking it was really time yet.)  She and her birth assistant and a student midwife all pulled into the driveway at the same time as Jeremy right after 4pm.  The baby was born at 5:04.

They all came in and set up the room for birth.  Remade my bed with fresh sheets and a plastic shower curtain liner underneath.  Another shower curtain on the ground in front of my bed where they also put the birth stool I had mentioned at one appointment I might be interested in.  And pulled out the kit of supplies I had ordered and set everything up.

Meanwhile I had latched on to Jeremy who is always my rock during labor.  I squeeze his hands and pull on his arms and hang on him, and he just provides for me.  He comforts me and stands by me.

My midwife asked if I was starting to feel pressure.  I didn't really answer but in the next contraction at one point  let out a bit of growl with a grunt.  Jeremy (nervously) asked, "Are you trying to push?"

"Yes, she is."  My midwife responded in a pleased tone of voice that I was totally glad to hear--meaning she wasn't telling me to wait!  She asked if I wanted her to check where I was in terms of progress and I did.  So I got up on the bed and she said I was basically there.  I breathed through a few more contractions and then started pushing.

I was trying to push in a controlled manner (always hoping in vain to avoid stitches) but still trying to push hard, but wasn't making much progress.  (After Owen my kids have all come in about 3 contractions.)  We propped me up on some more pillows, she encouraged me to pull back on my knees more.  (At one point scolding me for trying to "run away" from that contraction--which was totally what I had done.)  Then she asked if I wanted to move to the birthing stool.  I did because I was really very confused at why the baby wasn't out yet.

I sat on the stool and the change of position was good just to help me get on top of the contraction and push from a different angle.  His head came slowly out and once it did, I said, "Oh, good!"  unlike Wyatt"s birth where I momentarily panicked in between head and body, this time I was just happy that it actually happened--the head was out, the end was here!  My body took a little pause and with the next contraction I pushed his body out!

He cried right away, and she suctioned his mouth and nose, and I delivered the placenta, then moved up into bed.

Peter Tom, 8 pounds 5 ounces, 22 inches long.  Born 11 hours after my water breaking, 38 weeks 5 days gestation

In this picture you can see a little bit how his head is misshapen from delivery.  He was born posterior (aka "face up", aka "the wrong way"!) But then his head also came through off-centered (I cant remember the technical term)  so his head was elongated to the one side.  Basically, both those things led to the increase in effort needed to push him out.

My midwife said she was wondering in the middle of it all if the baby had a hand up by his face or something, because it was definitely taking more effort and time than are generally needed for a 5th baby to come out!

Mom and baby getting checked out after delivery!

Apparently there was something different about my placenta as well, but I wasn't aware of the conversation going on about it--Jeremy caught a little of it.  But my midwife was telling the other two that they sure got to see a number of interesting things with my delivery.

So we've been recovering at home the last few days.  I'm sore from delivery, but frankly I just feel great not being pregnant anymore--it get's so painful and uncomfortable at the end!

The boys love Peter, and Jeremy is being a great dad--to all the boys.

Baby legs!

Sweet boy!

Waiting

Life's been busy.

I've experienced this pregnancy a lot differently than my previous three.  Our life has been in an uncertain place the entire time, and so this whole pregnancy I've been more unconcerned with "getting to the end" quickly than I ever have before.   I haven't read any pregnancy books, nor religiously kept track of what week I was in or how big my baby was supposed to be, or even how much weight I've gained, and (up until about two weeks ago) have not been in any rush or hurry to get the baby here.


We had tons of fun with family in town for graduation.  After they left the next thing on our "schedule" was birthin' a baby.  So that's when my impatience began.

I'm 39 1/2 weeks now.  I passed the 38 weeks 6 days mark that I delivered Wyatt on.  I passed mys sisters' birthday which was my "goal date" for having the baby, and we left May behind.  (I was hoping he would be born in May--then the boys would all have their own birth month.)  So at this point I'm feeling like I have no idea, the baby is probably never coming, I'm going to be pregnant forever.

You know, reasonable-type thoughts.  

This morning I woke up with contractions 7 minutes apart for about 3 hours, but I laid down for a nap and woke up and they were gone. :-(  The babysitter is officially "on call".  It could be tonight--It could be two weeks from tonight. 

See you soon baby!

One is the Loneliest Number

In college I decided that six kids was the perfect number to have.  I come from a family with five children.  I loved the crazy party that a family with a lot of kids provides.    I decided I could never have less than 5 or it would seem like someone else was missing.  And I was willing to have more.  But there can be too many kids as well.  So I decided that six was the perfect number because you could still drive a regular mini-van and not have to go to one of those full-sized ones--or even a bus!  Yes I decided I wanted a one minivan family please.

Jeremy and I married mid February in my junior year of university.  I really only had one semester left.  We got pregnant at the end of that summer.  Owen was born when I was 22.  I was pleased with that feeling like we had a lot of options for our future little family.  (We weren't rushed by my age or anything.)  One beautiful, bouncy, baby.  Check.

When my mom was visiting earlier this year she was in the other room changing baby Wyatt's diaper and called out, "Jeanette did you realize, you've been pregnant five times in five years?" I hadn't realized it, but Wyatt was indeed my fifth pregnancy in five years.  And once I started looking at my dates it got really interesting. 

About a year after Owen was born I found myself again pregnant.  We had just moved to Kansas, and were settling into our new apartment.  I was tired and knew before taking a pregnancy test that it would-indeed show positive.  And it did.  I was pregnant.  At about 6 weeks I started spotting.  We searched the internet for information--was I definitely miscarrying?  I was in contact with an OBGYN but since I had not yet gotten on health insurance--we just let the miscarriage proceed naturally.


Six months later I was pregnant again.  I had been visiting my sister and returned to our new apartment and was nauseated by the smell.  Stale cigarette stench coming into our apartment through the bathroom vent, closet, and kitchen piping--courtesy of our downstairs neighbors.  Within a week my oversensitive sense of smell was officially attributed to pregnancy. At six weeks I started spotting.  It was happening again.  We did bloodwork --it came back fine-- we set an ultrasound for 7 weeks.The ultrasound showed a suspected ectopic pregnancy.  My ultrasound was at 11.  I was in surgery with my OBGYN at 1.  My abdomen was full of blood and I lost my right tube.  But we were given high hopes I could still be able to have (many?) children. 

We were nervous about how easy or not it would be to get pregnant again.  After three months of healing I was pregnant and deathly afraid of another ectopic.  Your chances for having a second ectopic pregnancy are as high as 12%.  And I only had one tube.  If I lost my left tube my only option would be invitro at $10,000 a pop--that would greatly diminish the number of children we could have.  I went in for bloodwork again.  My numbers did not look quite right.  I was leaving town and afraid of what might happen if I was out of state having a problem.  So I went in for an ultrasound at a mere 5 weeks.  We went in and saw a healthy yolk sac, baby Jonas was too small to even see yet, but the yolk sac was the right size and, more importantly, inside the uterus.  That night, in my parents home, we shared our news, and there were hugs and tears all around.  I gave birth to Jonas one year and one day after my Laprascopy that removed my right tube. 

Jeremy finished up his master's degree and was trying to figure out what to do next.  Fate dictated that was as good a time as any to add to our family.  Pregnant again.  I was calm at the beginning, just allowing myself to be.  But then more scares, heavy bleeding at 11 weeks.  But Wyatt was worth all the worry.  And as I recently looked back on my very first blog post about the pregnancy I miscarried, I realized that Wyatt was born on the due date I had been given for that pregnancy--just three years later.

So here we are with three kids after six years of marriage.  I don't know how many more children are in our future.  My body's been through a lot during these five pregnancies in five years. But I do hope that it has more to give.  I definitely felt like this was not my last pregnancy.  Multiple times while pregnant with Wyatt I felt like I would be pregnant again.  But I don't know if that is once more or many more times.  We're going to have to see how life treats us.  So right now we have a family of Five.  But we'll see what our family looks like in 10 years. 


**This post is a party of a blog party hosted here that my cousin participated in. I started getting into my ectopic pregnancy and decided to split the two posts up. Today is the story of my family size at present--comeback tomorrow if you want to hear more about my ectopic pregnancy (including the pictures).

L'Hopital

Jeremy and I decided early on in this pregnancy that I would be seeking prenatal care with an OB and delivering in a hospital. I've been on the wrong end of the not-going-to-happen-in-most-cases statistics to feel wise giving birth in any other way. So I wanted to share my thoughts on preparing for a natural delivery in a hospital (including what I'd do differently if I was doing it again), and my Top 10 best things about delivering in a hospital.


Natural Childbirth in a Hospital

I did not have strong feelings of wanting to deliver naturally this pregnancy. My biggest goal was wanting to go into labor spontaneously. Both of my previous deliveries were inductions, and for the sake of experience, I really just wanted to go into labor on my own. That being said, I thought it was possible that in going into labor spontaneously that the chances of my having a natural delivery were higher.

Everyone's definition of natural delivery is different. It can range from simply delivering without pain medication, to unassisted childbirth--delivering a baby without a trace of medical intervention, including not ever even talking to a doctor or midwife and delivering at home on your own.

In planning for a natural childbirth you need to decide which elements of "natural" are important to you, personally. Then base the care that you seek in a delivery location and medical provider on those points. There are some official policies that the hospital will have-- for example our local hospital does not allow VBACs. But then there are also "standard procedures," that they normally do, but can actually be refused. There are also preferred practices of your doctor or midwife. They actually can call a lot of the shots in the hospital about your delivery (in your favor and not) so it's really important to talk with your provider about your desires.

Two things I talked to my doctor about were not having an IV and delayed cord clamping. He told me the hospital does give an IV standard, but he said I could refuse it. Also, he said I could get just the hep-lock with no IV connected and that would probably make the nurses feel more comfortable, just in case of emergency. But, he said, if I was willing to drink during labor to stay hydrated, he was comfortable with me refusing an IV.

In regards to delayed cord clamping my doctor was also accommodating. He said that based on his personal research into the topic he could see no significant evidence for or against it. So in that case he was willing to do whatever I wanted, and said that he regularly did delay cord clamping as requested.

At my actual delivery I did get the hep-lock. Based on the stage of my labor we got there at Jeremy said I probably wouldn't be moving around much from that point on so he thought I should go ahead and get it. My feelings on the subject were not that strong, so I went ahead and got it. It bugged me a bit, but really towards the end it kind of gave me a physical focus point for my frustration and and discomfort during contractions.

Other interventions I did not have strong feelings against were the external fetal monitoring, and internal cervical checks. In fact I want those things because I'm curious about what's going on with my body. In truth I never looked at the fetal monitors this delivery, because I was too focused on my breathing, but I know Jer watched them, and I've watched them in my previous deliveries. But if I had been in the hospital longer I was going to request intermittent monitoring so I could walk around and also labor in the tub for a while.

Finally, another intervention I agreed with was the artificial rupturing of membranes right before delivery. The baby was right there. Releasing the waters allowed the baby's head to push past the cervix for delivery, and delivery was so imminent that the risk of introducing infection at that point was nil.

My other suggestions for delivering naturally in a hospital would be these:

Wait for labor to come naturally. With an induction you are on an IV and monitors from the start, you're likely to end up with more interventions.

Stay home as long as possible. Also, with this one there is less time on the monitors which means less opportunity for a false alarm problem. Also, at home there is no medication, so you can't ask for it. At the hospital you know the medication is available, that makes it harder to refuse. There was a point at home in my labor where I thought: if it was daytime and I could easily take my boys to someone's house, I'd probably be going to the hospital right now, and if I was at the hospital right now, I'd be really tempted by the epidural. However, you can take this too far. In the end, I was actually wondering at one point when we were heading out the door if we were going to make it to the hospital in time to deliver.

Finally, always question an intervention you weren't planning on. This was something I read preparing for delivery this time. A lot of times when doctors or nurses want to introduce an intervention it's not necessary right this second. So ask: can we wait another hour before trying that etc. In many situations, you can just wait things out. And some women want to speed things along, like use pitocin to get things going, so you really just need to make your preferences known.

I have one thing I would have done differently if I was doing it over again with the goal to go drugless. Once I got to the hospital, I had obviously hit transition. I pretty much laid down in the bed for my nurse to check me, and I stayed there from that point on. I was tired from having gotten no sleep that night, and the contractions were super-intense. I don't know that laying down slowed anything down, but it definitely didn't speed things along. In retrospect, I think I should have asked for the squat bar. They attach to the bed so I wouldn't have really had to go anywhere, but I think being upright may have helped to decrease the time between when I got there and delivered. (Although maybe then my doctor wouldn't have made it!) But at the time it never even crossed my mind, so I didn't squat.

Top 10 best things about delivering in the hospital

10: Cable TV- Although I was actually quite disappointed in the programing while I was there. Maybe we aren't missing anything by not having cable.

9: The great view of an urban landscape out the window-- There was a fireworks show for me the night I delivered.

8: Seeing the other babies--When Wyatt was getting his morning pediatrician check-up I took a little walk to watch through the nursery window. There was at least 4 other cute babies, 3 girls one boy. Mine had the biggest head, but not the most hair.

7: SWAG--There's all kinds of souvenirs to bring home for the baby scrapbook, like a special certificate that say's Congratulations Mom and Dad, your baby can hear!

6: No kids--Ok really I did miss my boys. They visited me for about an hour and a half each day. But for my health it's better for me to just rest, and not feel tempted to get out of bed and take care of my boys.

5: Pee-pee parties-- The celebration of the nurses the first time you empty your bladder post-delivery.

4: Endless supply of ice pellets-- It beats buying a bag at Sonic.

3: The night time nursery-- I haven't slept the last 4 months, and won't for the next 6 months. I've sent all three boys to the hospital nursery at night with no guilt. I deserve to have those two nights of decent sleep.

2: Room service dining- 6:30 am to 7 pm just pick up the phone and get all the doughnuts and chocolate milk I could want. . . oh, and salad.

1: Someone else does the laundry!

Last Week of Pregnancy

I'm usually the type that loves being pregnant. It's not that I have no discomforts or pains, or exhaustedness. It's really just that I think pregnancy is such an amazing thing. It's such a miraculous circumstance to take part in. And really--no one wants to listen to someone else whine all the time.

But towards the end of this pregnancy, I felt like I was definitely doing more than my "normal" amount of whining. Mostly to my mom, my sister, and my poor husband.

One reason was just the unpredictability of Nature. With my first pregnancy I naively assumed I would deliver a week early, since all my mom's babies had come early, as had my sister's and my sister-in-law's. So I planned everything around that assumption. When he didn't come, it was frustrating, but really didn't cause any problems since my mom was in town, I'd already graduated, and my job had ended for the summer.

With my second pregnancy we planned on inducing a bit earlier than that last time to avoid having another 9 pounder-or larger. So I knew I wasn't going to go quite to the end.

This pregnancy I really wanted to go into labor spontaneously--I didn't have some huge natural birthing plan, but I just really wanted to go into labor on my own. The frustrating thing is--that gives you almost an entire month of possible dates you could have the baby on. And my life is more complicated now. I have things going on. A boy to take to and from school. Jeremy's end of semester projects I'm trying to support him in. Kindergarten Open House. Jeremy's birthday. Book club. Stake conference. A number of appointments to schedule like Jonas' 30-day post op appointment (the date of which falls directly on my due date) and an overdue oil-change on the car.

So how am I supposed to schedule my life and the life of my family if at some point in there, we'll have to drop everything and, well, put the rest on hold for an indefinite period of time? It's just hard to not feel in any control about an event so significant that it will change everything that comes after it.

Then there was the discomfort, pain, and flat-out inability to perform certain physical tasks towards the end. The hard thing was how much this affected my ability to do the things I felt I should be doing, particularly, taking care of my boys.

Jonas decided--with impeccable timing--to stop taking naps my last month and a half of pregnancy. This was exactly when I was needing to take afternoon naps. I tried to help encourage him. I would try to go in his room to read him books, or I would go lay down by him on his little bed, but within three minutes I simply couldn't take the pain in my back any longer and would have to get up. Then I tried just letting Owen and Jonas play or watch a movie while I lied down. That was not very successful either.

I had a few breakdowns the last week or two of my pregnancy and this was one of them. I was trying to lay down and the boys were just causing problems. They were just bugging each other. But my back was killing me and I was so tired I just wanted a little nap. I could hear some sort of commotion going on. I called out to Owen to come here. I was not getting anyone in trouble I was simply trying to break up the issue. I called to him, then I yelled to him, then I screamed at him. He didn't respond to me in any case, so I just broke down and started crying. Because this is not the kind of mom I want to be. This is not the kind of parenting I want to do. And I knew that it was because of my physical state in pregnancy that I was feeling so overwhelmed and frustrated, and that I was simply physically unable to parent like I wanted.

One afternoon I was trying to be productive and work on laundry. On the way back to the laundry room carrying a basket, I tripped over something and fell. (I still have the bruise, but don't worry, Mom has the whole area cleaned up now-no more fall-hazards.) I stood up and brushed myself off, but as I stood over the washing machine, loading my clothes I broke down. What a way to live, with this belly that blocks my view to see where I'm stepping, and makes me clumsy and throws off my balance!

And I just felt done. I felt like I was at my limit, and had to take it literally one day at a time. That's why I couldn't believe I'd actually gone into labor a week early on my own. I didn't want to get my hopes up and then have to wait another two weeks until it was actually over.

I don't know about first or second trimesters, but this was definitely my hardest third trimester so far. I don't know how things will go next time. I feel like our family is not done yet. I've felt this whole pregnancy that it is not my last. But I don't know how many more. Maybe one. Maybe three. And who knows how it will be next time. Maybe easier, maybe harder.

One thing is for sure though. Life is not a cake walk. There's a lot to deal with. There's a lot of sacrifice involved in parenting. I'm not saying it's not worth it--it totally is, but that doesn't take away the hard parts.

I'm grateful to my husband for being so patient with my complaining. And I hope that amid all the love and fun surrounding the birth of their brother Wyatt, Owen and Jonas will forget all about the way I acted the last month.

The Labor That Was

Here is the story of the birth of our baby Wyatt, or: The False Labor that Wouldn't Go Away.


Since my 38 week appointment I had been having more intense Braxton hicks contractions. They were beginning to feel crampy in my lower front belly, not just the normal tightening.

Three nights later I was over at a friend’s house scrapbooking, having my consistent—like normal—Braxton hicks. I definitely knew I was having a lot that night. I had one as I was leaving her house, then another one on my drive home, and another as I was coming into our house. That was all within 15 minutes.

We stayed up kind of late that night. Jeremy was working on homework, so he put on Sherlock Holmes for us to watch. Later when I was getting ready to lay down after helping put a 2-year-old nightcrawler back in bed, I was feeling distracted by my contractions, so I decided to dig out the old Walkman and listen to my new CD to relax in bed and wait for them to clam down.

After a while I decided I’d go get in the bath tub to try and relax to get them to stop. I listened to my CD some more in the tub and just tried to relax. I was starting to think I might be in labor—but that would be too good to be true, or else I wasn't ready for it yet, I couldn't decide—so I was trying to think about my different options. It was the middle of the night, and we had some friends who we had talked to about coming over here to be with the boys if I was in labor in the night, but I wasn’t entirely sure if I was really in labor.

I knew that if I was going to go into the hospital for a labor check they would want some history of my contraction pattern, so I got out of the tub. By some magical time warp it was already 4am. I started thinking I might be able to make it through the night without having to call someone here. Then I could go “see if I was in labor” in the morning before Jeremy’s class. Our computer takes forever to load up, so I was finally on the internet at 4:20 to start timing my contractions on contractionmaster.com.

I sat on my birthing ball and at first was trying to find something to distract myself with on the internet. But eventually I felt like I needed to stand up and sway my hips during the contractions. I also had to use the restroom—often! I posted on our family’s website around 5:15 am:

“I think I'm in labor. But I'm holding out as long as possible so we can call someone to watch the boys at a more "reasonable" time in the morning. No reason to wake them up just so I can go sit in the hospital and do the exact same thing I'm doing here: rock and breathe."

At that point my contractions had been 2-4 minutes apart for the hour I’d been monitoring them. I knew that if it was day time, that we should be headed to the hospital by now based on those numbers. I decided I’d wake Jeremy up at 6, and have him do the timing, so I could try laying down on the couch and see if that made them calm down. (I was totally in denial.)

I went in and woke him and he asked me “Yeah?” but a contraction was starting so I couldn’t respond and just walked out of the room so he would follow me. When that one finished I asked him if he would time my contractions for me (push the start/stop button) so that I could lie down on the couch. He asked “How long’s this been going on?” But I didn’t answer and he said “Oh,” as he scrolled down my long list of an hour an a half of timed contractions.

When I laid down on the couch the contractions did change. They intensified, and suddenly I had to vocalize through them. I was deep breathing in and then deep breathing out with a ahh, mmm, or ohh. (“Or I’m just being a whiner because my husband is awake to listen”-I thought.) A few contractions later Jeremy came over and we started discussing a plan.

At 6:15 Jeremy called some friends, and said, “We’re having a baby- can we come drop our boys off?” Then he ran around grabbing clothes for the boys and the last couple of things I needed for my hospital bag. Owen woke up in the commotion and he ran over to me and gave me a big hug and said, “I’m so happy you are going to push the baby out today!”

The thought crossed my mind that maybe I should have Jeremy drop me off at the hospital first and then take the boys (in case we didn’t make it in time), but knew I really didn’t want to be there alone, and figured it would probably be fine. I was standing up in our bedroom doorway as Jeremy was getting ready to load the car. I was wearing my kelly green Christmas tree pajama bottoms, and Jeremy’s bright red SLC Real soccer T-shirt. Jeremy stopped and looked me up and down. “And you, you look great.” He said, “You just go like that.”

On the drive I was breathing my deep breath in and my “ahh” out. Owen was bouncing off the walls in the back seat, yelling “Ahh, Ahh Ahh!” Jeremy got after him, “Owen! You need to calm down and be quiet! Your mom is hurting.”

When we got to the hospital, Jeremy dropped me off at the door and went to park the car. The couple of people around the info desk looked at me with interest. When I had a contraction the man went and got me a wheelchair. “They’re just wanting to be helpful.” I said to Jer in the elevator. They were expecting us upstairs since Jeremy had called before we left the house.

When we got into our room I noticed the clock on the wall said 7:11. My nurse asked if I was going to want an epidural and I told her I wanted to see where I was at first. She checked me and said she thought I was at a 7-8 but had a huge bulging bag of waters that was hard to feel around. So she called in another nurse for a second opinion. She said “Yep, 8 with a bulging bag.” So they called my doctor.


I didn’t actually get out of bed from that point on. Jeremy was really good to me. He was vocally supportive, and held my hand. Towards the end it helped for me to squeeze his hand kind of in pulses during the contractions.

My doctor got there and said “What a great start to my morning!” (I love my OB.) We then had him break my water, and he told me I could start pushing as soon as I felt like it. He went out for a minute, and I had a few contractions. I was not necessarily feeling “the urge” but I was feeling tons of pressure, and ready to have this baby. So I told them I wanted to start pushing.

They came in to get dressed and things set up and I started trying to push. The first couple contractions I couldn’t push, because I was deep breathing through them and couldn't figure out how to coordinate my breathing and pushing. Then I felt like I pushed a few times with minimal progression, but my Dr. said the baby made progress down the canal. My next few pushes definitely progressed because I started to feel a lot of stretching. Then of course came the baby’s head. All I can say was it was seriously so incredibly intense. Each of my pushes were grunts that turned into yells as my body bore down.

Then they said to me “OK, now push the shoulders out.” I had one of those internal conversations in an instant. Where really I was like “No way! I can’t do this. I am doing this. There really is no other choice. Ok, I’ll do it.” And then I pushed out the shoulders and rest of the baby with another grunt-yell.

And instantly it’s over. Instantly, I was done and the pain was gone and I was breathing and everything was fine. When the cord stopped pulsing we clamped it and Jeremy cut it. And it was done. He was here, and he made it, and we did it. And Jeremy cried, because this was our baby who we didn’t know would make it to us or not.

His name is Wyatt and we love him.


The other birth facts: His his official birth time was 8:18 am. He was 8 lbs 3 oz and 21 inches long. He came spontaneously at 38 weeks and 6 days gestation. He was born with a nuchal cord. It was wrapped one time around him, but my Dr. said he hadn’t guessed, because the baby did great during delivery, without any heart-rate trouble. I had a second degree tear that occurred along my old scar line, just the same as last time—scar tissue just doesn’t stretch well.

Nine Months

Today Jeremy had an eye appointment. (We're finally getting him some new glasses since his frames have been broken, coincidentally, for nine months.) While we were there one of the women helping him asked me when I was due.

"Three weeks," I told her. "Well, two and a half."

"You're not that big, " she said to me.

"Well, I feel uncomfortable enough," I replied with a chuckle.

This is one of my amusements, or should I say annoyances at this stage in pregnancy: the people who tell me I'm not that big.

It's all relative. Did you see me before I was pregnant? I wasn't that big then either. But now I am this big, and this big is way bigger than that big.

Also, I do gain the recommended amount of weight--it's not like I'm trying to avoid gaining weight or something-- so I'm just curious if people think I should be gaining a billion pounds just because I am pregnant.

Finally, my babies come out on the bigger side of average, so although I may not look that big I have a full-sized baby in there. So along with that, although I may not look as big as some pregnant women I still have just as much discomfort!

So that's what it comes down to I guess--I want people to coddle my emotions because I'm uncomfortable all day and can't sleep at night, even though I "don't look that big!"

Speaking of coddling, I invited a friend and her kids over to play on Friday. Owen had been begging me. While she was over she gave me an unsolicited pedicure!

Now that's a friend!

And she even said that If I haven't had my baby in three weeks that she'd come back and give me another one. I may hold out, just for the pedicure!

In my final news bite of my 10th lunar month of pregnancy, we had another sonogram done last week.

And apparently because she was feeling generous that day, the sonographer flipped it over to 4D for us.

Amazing, really.

We're so far along that really, this is what our baby will look like when he comes out. He's all there, chubby cheeks and all.

We honestly are feeling a bit spoiled by all the times we've been able to see our baby this pregnancy. But then it kind of feels like compensation, too, for some of the difficult circumstances surrounding this pregnancy--some which I've mentioned here, and some which I haven't.

In the end we a grateful for these sneak peeks we've had and grateful that we have come to this point with a happy, healthy baby growing inside.

"Hey Mr. Pouty, if you've got a preference on your name for this earth life, speak now or prepare to live with whatever Mom and Dad pick out of a hat!"

Superfreak

So, I'm almost 35 weeks pregnant. I feel like I am quickly reaching and surpassing that point in my pregnancy where people go from saying, "Oh, cute!" to "Oh. . . wow. . ."

See, I just have this belly, and it just sticks out in front of me. For the most part I can walk around and do everything totally normal (I only waddle when I really need to use the restroom) but everything I do is starting to fall into the "looking totally ridiculous" stage, simply because of the size of my belly. I can no longer hide it behind a coat or purse.

This is the point where I start feeling all self-conscious about my belly and start wondering if I should begin selling tickets to see the walking freak show!

$5 to watch me try and get in or out of our car

$7 to watch me climb up or down the stairs at church in heels, $3 extra if I'm carrying a child while doing so

Gifted

This weekend I had a baby shower. Actually it was a double shower for me and a friend, April, who will be having a baby here in the next week or two.

We are both pregnant with our third child. Some people think it's strange to have baby showers after your first child--it's not traditional. I, however, think that there is not nearly enough party-throwing and social entertaining these days, so if having multiple baby showers is a way to get people out and together I'm all for it!

Especially because I benefited so directly from this party. Since it was for our third children we had a diapering party, where in lieu of traditional gifts women brought us diapers, wipes and diapering accessories. (There were a few other fun gifts thrown in as well!)

As a gift for the other guest of honor, I decided to make one of these cute covered diaper wipes cases that I've seen all over the internet lately. I really was excited to do it, but the whole time I was working on the project, shopping for fabric, putting it together, I was worried about how many other women might be working on the same gift. We've got some really crafty-type friends that I was sure would have seen this cute idea before.

When I got to the party there was already a small pile of gifts started and I saw one of these covered cases on the top. "Well, it's what I expected." I thought. But you know, it would be ok to have a couple because you have different diaper bags sometimes. But you know five or six would probably be too many!

Well when we began to open presents the gift piles dwindled lower and lower until it got to the point where I realized that this other wipes case was the gift from April to me!

She even made a coordinating diaper case too--super cute. In the end we had each made one for each other, an no one else had done the same gift. Perfect! So we got a good laugh out of the whole thing. Great minds think alike you know.

And of course at that point each of our crafty-type friends wanted to look at both of them to see how we had made them.

I didn't take tons of pictures, because I was in a hurry, but here's the basic process.

Start with one of those travel wipes cases.

This isn't the one I used, but you know. . . this type of little case. Trace around the top and bottom of the case on paper to make a pattern. Add on an extra 1/4 inch or so to the outside of the pattern so that it is long enough to wrap over the edge.

Pin on your pattern and cut out your pieces of fabric.

Then use the pattern again to cut out your batting. Cut the batting the 1/4 inch (or however much you added on) shorter than the fabric so that it is the right size to cover the top but not wrap over the edges. I only did batting on the top of the case that I made, but April had thin batting cushioning the top and bottom of the case she made for me.

Then you glue the fabric onto the case. Everywhere I've seen this explained I've heard to use a hot glue gun at the edges. Since I had it, and I thought it might go faster, I used spray adhesive on the back of the fabric (and the back of the batting). Then it just stuck right on to the case, and I did a little touch up around the edge with hot glue.

Next you add your ribbon or trim to cover the raw edge of the glued down fabric. The trim I used is narrower than I would have liked, but it's all I could find the right color. Start and end the trim in the back to hide the ends, and hot glue the whole way around.

Ta-da! A super-cute, personalized baby gift. The best kind even--a useful one!

Creepy Photos

We had another ultrasound this week to check up on the status of my abruption and get a better idea of any special steps we might need to take for delivery.

It's been 8 weeks since my last ultrasound, and it was amazing to see how much the baby has grown and filled out. Last time the baby had a little skeleton face.


This time the baby's face had filled out so much. He had a round little fleshy face and when she moved in and out on it you could see his little lips and round cheeks and watch his eyes flutter.


Either way my mom thinks the face pictures are just plain creepy. She prefers pictures of cute little baby feet.


The sonographer said the baby has hardly any hair at all--just a little bit of peach fuzz. But my heartburn only started a few weeks ago, so give it a little time and I'm sure by the time the baby is born he'll have a nice soft head of dark hair like his two older brothers.

That or he's going to assert his uniqueness from birth and tell us to quit comparing him to his brothers already because he is an individual!

Twenty Weeks

I've reached the half-way point in my pregnancy. The last month and a half I've been feeling really good--working on projects and finally getting to the massive pile of laundry that I didn't fold for two and a half months.

The last month has also included getting used to the news that this baby will be a boy. Our mid-point ultrasound today confirmed that he is still definitely a boy.

It's been interesting sharing the news with people--I've felt a little conspicuous in my delivery. If it had been a girl then there would have been excitement inherent in that news. But as he is a boy I'm insecure about what the emotion is that I convey when giving the news. I'm excited to tell people the gender, but the gender itself is more like an almost sarcastic. "Yeah, can you believe it?"

But I don't want people to judge me, thinking that I don't appreciate my blessing of the ability to bear another child. It's just that having a girl would have included feeling a bit of superficial excitement over the novelty (something people could see and appreciate), but my feelings towards having a boy are more of an internal pondering (something people can't see, and therefore don't know it's there).

Internally, the news has been like getting a piece of a puzzle. It's interesting. The puzzle piece is interesting to look at, it is interesting to see where it fits in the picture of my family. And what it does is give me a better idea of what the picture of my whole family looks like. It gives me this hazy look into my future, my future of boys.

I have boys. I will now have three boys. That tells me things about the types of family activities we will do, the types of laundry I'll be doing, the type of Halloween costumes I'll be making, the type of ruckus I'll be privy to.

I don't know yet exactly how this baby will fit into the family--what his temperament will be, how his personality will develop, how he'll interact with his brothers--but those answers will come, in time, after he is born.

Meanwhile I enjoy this time I have to ponder over the possibilities, and feel like I know a little more about what our family will be when this little one comes to join us.

Medical Terms Identified

It's been a month since my last ultrasound, and since I'm still having bleeding issues we went in for another one. But since I have been having this issue across two months it now has a name: Chronic Abruption.

So we left with a slightly-more-stern-than-last-time warning to "take it easy." This said with a sideways glance at my 20 month-old who was trying to climb up over my belly to push those blinking buttons on the ultrasound machine.

It's amazing to see how much more the baby has developed from last month. And--at 16 weeks--developed enough for our sonographer to tell us: It's a Boy!

Three boys.

I ran across something funny a few weeks ago written by a woman with three sons. So now I have a better idea of what's in store for me.

Here are some of our immediate plans for a household of boys.

• Hammock sleeping bunks (like in a submarine)
• A drinking fountain in the backyard
  
• "Modded" bunk bed/jungle gym hybrids

Let the Wild Rumpus begin!

Pregnancy

*This post contains frank descriptions relating to the female condition, if you get creeped out by "TMI" do not proceed*

I started this pregnancy with a lot more anxiety than when I was pregnant with Owen or Jonas. The general point being--we are not where we planned on being in our lives right now. We thought we'd be graduated and have a job, with a regular income, and our own health insurance. But we aren't.

So being pregnant without our own health insurance was frustrating to me. I was frustrated about having to apply for Medicaid.

I started considering what any other options might be. There is a Birth Center in a city about an hour away from here, where one of my friends had delivered her two babies. So I started looking in to that option.

It would cost $4,100 to deliver there. I was thinking maybe we could just pay for the delivery ourselves. We could apply for Medicaid in case we needed to be transferred to the hospital and for the baby's care, but otherwise just pay for it out of our student loans.

I'm confident that if I was committed to having a drugless birth I could. (With Jonas I went in with no plan to do so but labored naturally for hours on Pitocin, until I freaked out about "pushing" and got a spinal at what ended up being 15 minutes before Jonas was born.) But sure, I believe it is "within the power" of all women to birth without pain relief, and that many births can go fine outside the hospital setting. So I was having a serious debate with myself about the option of not going to an OB.

Then at 7 weeks I had some pink spotting. It was not red, but I know the difference between normal-colored vaginal fluids and pink. So I called my OB. He wanted me in right away.

Women who have had a past ectopic pregnancy have a 15% chance of any future pregnancy being ectopic. Due to my not having insurance yet we had not been in for any preliminary bloodwork. (Monitoring rising HCG levels to rule out a possible ectopic is common practice.) So we went in for a sonogram.

The sonogram looked good. There was a healthy yolk-sack, little fetus with a regular heartrate at 122 bpm. And my tube was clear. (Interesting medical side note: The sonographer was certain she could see a healthy corpus luteum on my right ovary. That indicates I ovulated from my right side and my left tube snatched the egg out of the air. . . or whatever my insides are filled with.)

The sonogram revealed an area of what looked like some inner-uterine bleeding, not entirely uncommon, but hopefully wouldn't cause any more real problems.

But I left that day with some very interesting thoughts going through my head. There's always the stress and trauma of thinking something's wrong to deal with, but I also felt like I had been given a sign. I felt like my Father in Heaven was telling me I needed to let go of my pride, get set up to see my doctor, and recognize that "hands off" prenatal care is not what I needed.

So I did. I put my paperwork through I made appointments.

At 11 weeks and 3 days I went in for my first appointment with the nurse. She took stats and drew blood.

That afternoon, I felt something strange and I went to the bathroom where I began bleeding. I called and got an appointment with the sonographer at the hospital in a few hours. I bled heavily until my appointment. I was not very optimistic about what the results would be at that point.

The first thing our sonographer said was, "Well, we've got a nice strong heartbeat--so lets just get that out there." She was training a younger girl, so she talked a lot and was doing a lot of angles, and kept saying what a beautiful baby it was.


I layed there in shock. I recognized that she had told me that the baby was fine--but I was seriously bleeding!

So we went down to my doctors office to talk to him about the results. He said it looks like the same issue as at the 7 week sonogram--this same area of bleeding. He said it looked promising as the area was beginning to show more mass like maybe there is a blood clot forming or something starting to heal up. He told us this bleeding usually doesn't last the whole pregnancy usually it heals up by around 13-15 weeks.

Inner-uterine bleeding is a risk-factor for miscarriage, so it is still very possible at this point, but my doctor expressed confidence that most of the time these areas of bleeding heal up ok and everything is fine. Since they can see the collection of blood in my uterus-it is probable that I will continue to have bleeding on and off until the area is totally resolved.

So after that experience I felt like I was definitely doing the right thing sticking with my doctor.

I don't have to feel like "less of a woman" because I have a moderate risk pregnancy that requires extra monitoring. Fertility is a precious gift. Some women's fertility is more fragile than others, and takes more protecting. I want to feel grateful for my opportunity to bear children, and not pressured into a birthing experience that any one else considers "ideal."

My doctor is an OB. He is a male. He is intelligent. He is capable. He is friendly. He is compassionate. He understands and respects how emotionally tied women are to their fertility.

I've been seeing him for the 4 years we've lived here. We've been together through a miscarriage, an ectopic pregnancy, laproscopic surgery, and salpingectomy. Then the pregnancy and birth of my second child and now the pregnancy of my third.

I'm grateful to be with a doctor whose judgment I trust, and I'm grateful for the personal inspiration I am entitled to that allows me to trust my own decisions.