Benny is here

My Benny (short for Benjamin) is here and his entrance to this world was absolutely magical.
I spent the weekend before his birth anxious, much like my previous blog entries may have hinted at.  I couldn't sleep because of the fear and anticipation.  I never did fall asleep Sunday night knowing it was Benny's birthday.  I couldn't relax my mind at all.  I did spend as much time as I could enjoying feeling him move around knowing I wouldn't feel internal baby kick and squirms ever again.  I also liked that constant reminder that he was okay in there.  I simply couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that this was really, actually happening.
Around 4:30 I finally just got up and showered.  I even dried my hair and put on makeup because, well, why not?
My husband slept a bit overnight but truth be told he was as anxious as I was about what lay ahead, he's just better able to turn off his mind and sleep.
I took a few final belly pictures before we left the house around 5:30 that morning.  The drive in was fairly quiet.  We made some small talk but when I get super stressed out I don't usually like to bother with talking... it takes all of my mental strength to focus on the task at hand.  Did I mention I was scared?  If I could have "noped" out of having a baby that morning I would have and not for any one particular reason.  I was just nervous.
We got checked into the hospital right at 6.  They originally assigned us to a room right across from the OR.  Drew identified that as a problem and asked for a different, quieter room.  We got one down a back hall and it was perfect.  Once checked in they needed me to get naked, put on a hospital gown and give a urine sample.  Easy enough on all counts.  Next came IV time.  The nurse put the IV in my right forearm.  I am not upset by needles, IVs, shots etc but this IV hurt so bad.  It bruised instantly.  Also, what a crappy location!  I mean, I'm going to cradle a baby in that arm - why does he have to be kabokned with IV stuff??  There must have been a better location but then, what do I know? 
With the IV in place they hooked me up to the monitors for an NST - though I didn't have to mark movements - they just tracked his heartbeat and any contractions I was having.  They also monitored my blood pressure and gave me 2 bags of fluid quickly, a dose of antibiotics and another, slower bag of fluid via IV.  The nurses left our room around 7:15 and said we'd head to the OR around 7:45.  We turned off the lights and tried to snooze until  then.. but of course, it's a hospital.  We had several people come in and say hi so - yea - no rest.  At 7:45 they said it was time.  As we started walking back to the OR I started crying.  It was a combination of fear, anxiety, joy, relief, anticipation and disbelief that it was happening.  I also knew that the pain was about to start.  All of these months of build up... of not knowing if he was going to be okay... of not knowing if I would miscarry... I spent so much energy protecting my heart against the worst that I found myself unprepared for the best to happen.  The girl who thought she would never have another child was about to walk into a room with a giant stomach and roll out of the room with a baby.  The emotions were overwhelming.
Drew can't go into the OR until everything is all set so he walked with us to the little waiting area where he could get scrubbed up. I started shaking like a leaf taking those last few steps into the OR on my own.  The OR is cold like a refrigerator - which adds to the shaking.  I hop up onto the table and various people introduce themselves to me.  The most important character at this point is a guy named Ron.  He's the nurse anaesthetist and will play an important part in the rest of this story.  The anaesthesiologist comes in and we have a conversation about how freaked out I am and what a bad experience my previous spinal was.  He had me round out my back and grip the nurse in front of me.  The OB came in somewhere right about this time and saw that it was spinal time.  He knew I was petrified and we joked about it.  The nurse was called away so the OB stepped in and took her spot - he talked me through everything that was happening.  After all that we've been through with this doctor, having him be there for my most terrifying moment was sort of a relief.  It took 3 sticks to get the spinal in place.  None of the sticks hurt, thankfully.  The anaesthesiologist asked if he was centered and I could tell he was off to the left.  When I told him that - he adjusted and I felt my legs go tingly.  I said "oh, I think he's got it I'm tingly" and that was it.  It was very different because it took much longer for the spinal meds to take effect than then last time I went through this.  I was able to move my own legs up onto the table and feel them slowly go numb.  At first I was freaked out that it wasn't going to be enough and I was going to feel everything.  Nope, this was just a good doctor putting the spinal meds in right.  Right by my head this whole time is Ron... explaining everything that is happening, what I might be feeling, asking me questions, making sure I can or can't feel certain things. They put a heater over my arms and chest which was wonderful in that cold room.  They tested different spots for sensation and I passed those tests by not feeling a thing. It seemed like it was taking a while to get set up and I was nervous they were going to start without Drew being in the room.  I kept asking about him and Ron assured me they would not start without him.  The doctors asked me again if I was certain I wanted a tubal and I was absolutely certain that I wanted one.
In came Drew, up went the dividing curtain and it was time to start. 
It's really happening.
I'm about to become a mom of three.
This little boy who I've fretted over and worried over for so long is about to come out and I am utterly unprepared.  It's real.  He's really coming... and he's coming now.
Drew couldn't help but watch over the sheet. I, of course, wanted the whole play by play.
It's crazy to be totally awake and aware during surgery like this... but I didn't feel a single thing.
Nothing.
No pain.  No sensation.  Nothing.
I had a lot of scar tissue from the previous c-sections so it took a bit longer to get through it and into the uterus.  It felt like it took forever to "birth time."  But then Ron and the OB both said at almost the same time, "okay, it's time - you're going to feel a lot of pressure." 
Honestly I didn't feel much pressure at all.... certainly not like the pressure of the last 2 c-sections....
And out he came.
At 8:20 am Benjamin came into the world feet first, peeing and screaming his head off.  It was the sweetest sound as neither of my other boys were born screaming - they had to be rubbed down to get any noises to come out.  Ben was born absolutely screaming.  He screamed while I sobbed.  He's real.  He's really here and he's mine. 
From that moment on my eyes were to the left where I could see the baby team evaluating my little miracle boy.  His Apgars were 9 and 9.  They did all of the evaluations quickly - I mean within probably 5 minutes and then wrapped him up and handed him to dad.  Right there in the OR!  I couldn't believe it!  For the record he weighed 8lbs 1.7 oz and was 21.5 inches long.  For a gestational diabetic to have a 39.5 weeker come in just over 8lbs during a c-section - that is AWESOME.  Seriously -I busted my behind to control those blood sugars and it showed.  Ben was a perfect, healthy-sized full-term baby with no blood sugar issues whatsoever after birth.  I'm proud of how hard I worked to give him that start in life because, frankly, it was hard and I stuck with it.
Anyway, back to the OR... where they were tying my tubes and finishing me up.  My body did not react well to this part as I was alternating between trying to throw up (which is really hard to do when you have a spinal because you can't get the muscle movement you need to actually really puke) and trying to pass out - which is hard to do when Ron keeps putting alcohol swabs under your nose to keep you conscious, keeps talking to you to keep you conscious, keeps asking you to squeeze his hand to keep you conscious.  He had a bowl for when I was puking - but I barely managed to bring anything up (they gave me zofran through my IV and my stomach was beyond empty anyway).  Ron explained that this was all totally normal and is a reaction of my parasympathetic nervous system to the trauma of my uterus and ovaries being manipulated but my brain not having the sensory input it is expecting.  Ron kept asking me to squeeze his hand and I was all too happy - I squeezed the heck out of this guy's hand and it made me feel so much better. 
So why was I squeezing Ron's hand but not Drew's?  Drew was with Benny!  The OR staff was happily taking pictures of dad and son (seriously this may be the most family friendly hospital ever).  Dad was staring at this little guy in his arms, falling in love.  Dad was occupied.  He brought Benny over to me and I knew in my head that the most important thing right now is to get him to breastfeed.  That wasn't going to be possible given the setup I had in the OR so I gave him my finger to suck on to get that reflex going and he sucked away while I cried with joy.  It took just a few minutes to finish me up - they sent Drew and Ben to recovery to wait for me.  They moved me to a bed and off we went to recovery.
Recovery is basically monitoring until the spinal wears off enough for you to sort of move your legs a tiny bit.. and also to make sure your vitals are stable.  I could feel the spinal starting to wear off from the top down.  As I could feel it wearing off from the tiny bit that affected my hands -  I was just about to ask about breastfeeding - but I never ever had to say the words.  Ben's nurse was standing right next to my nurse waiting for me to have the all clear because she needed to start skin to skin and latch him on asap.  The hospital is all about this stuff as it turns out.  All it took was for me to say that I had total feeling in my hands... in a matter of minutes Ben was on top of me skin to skin and I was in heaven.  I was also still reacting to the spinal meds and feeling a bit woozy - so they kept having to put alcohol swabs under my nose to keep me from fainting and who honestly knows what else they had to do.  It worked - I never fainted.  I just had to go very very slowly when it came time to sit up.  We did get Ben latched on right there in recovery - about 45 minutes after he was born.
I was back in my room shortly after 9am.  Not so bad really - one hour of OR time and recovery.  My parents came to meet Benny that morning.  I was monitored closely by the nurses and doctors - blood pressure, self-inflating leg cuffs to prevent clots that actually felt pretty good on my now swollen from fluids legs.  As it turns out - I didn't tolerate the morphine they put in my spinal very well.  It was the Morphine that made me feel so crappy during the surgery and it made me itch like a crazy person after.  The itching lasted about 24 hours and it was really a mind-numbing, soul-stealing sort of itch.  They had medication for it but I only took one dose - it made me so sleepy that I couldn't function and I really wanted to enjoy those hours with my Benny.  How in the world do people get addicted to that stuff?  Seriously, morphine, not even once!
The boys came up in the afternoon to meet their new brother and they are both totally smitten.  G spends most of his waking hours trying to convince me it's his turn to hold Ben.  The bear is more cautious about how fragile babies are and is afraid of hurting him... but wants to get close and look and love and kiss.
I was in the hospital from Monday to Thursday and I won't bore anyone with the mundane realities of spending so much time there.  In all, I was glad to have 72 full hours of constant pain medication.  I was also glad to have that time to spend concentrating on adjusting to Ben being on the outside.  He's a lovey, cuddle boy who loves his skin-to-skin time.   I wouldn't say he's a "natural" nurser but he is getting the hang of latching on.  The lactation consultants at the hospital were amazing.  The nurses were also super supportive and took wonderful care of both Benny and me.  My gestational diabetes was gone the second the placenta was gone.  My numbers were so good they stopped monitoring me after 48 hours or so.  No reason to stick me when my blood sugars were so consistently awesome.

I will admit that there is a sadness in knowing that this is my last baby.  I won't do any of this again... the morning sickness, the happy ultrasounds to see heartbeats and find out gender, the gestational diabetes, the c-section, the constant OB visits... it's over.  It's silly to say that I'll miss it - but I will miss it in a very strange way.  I will never be pregnant again... that part of my life is over. I'm relieved and happy to move on to the next stage of my life but at the same time it's a milestone. 
I couldn't have asked for better care from the medical professionals who helped me manage this pregnancy, and I couldn't have asked for more supportive family and friends who patiently dealt with me being sick for most of the past 10 months.
Benny's entrance into our world was so amazing, so special, so emotional.  This sweet boy - the very idea of him scared me - is so gentle and loving.  This little guy who I thought would never make it through a whole pregnancy looks up at me with wide eyes.  This tiny little man who I never thought I'd meet calms down the instant he hears my voice.  Ben is a special little boy and I'm so so so thankful and so so so lucky that he is part of our family.
For anyone facing an unexpected pregnancy, embrace it.
For anyone told their chances of getting pregnant are slim to none, don't give up but don't let the desire to get pregnant take over your whole life.
For anyone wondering if miracles happen... they do.
My miracle is Ben... and I have to stop writing now because he needs me.

Anxiety

As I enjoy the final days of my final pregnancy I'm dealing with a lot of anxiety. The what-ifs are things I don't cope well with. What if the unthinkable happens and the baby dies in the next few days. How will I help the boys cope with that grief and loss? What if I develop HELLP again but dismiss the symptoms until it's too late. What if the contractions I've been having off and on heat up and I don't get to the hospital on time and I have an unplanned homebirth? I do not want to spend this time with fear in my heart so I try and talk myself through it all. I am anxiety prone on my best day.

I'm also feeling a lot of fear and dread. I both fear and dread the pain that's coming. I fear and dread the spinal as my last experience was not a good one. I fear and dread the pain of recovering from a c-section. I fear and dread the hormonal roller coaster. I dread that first bathroom trip after baby. I dread the first painful days of breastfeeding and the afterpains that come with. I dread the sleepless nights – especially the ones when the baby sleeps peacefully but I'm afraid he's too peaceful so I cannot rest because I'm too busy checking in on him to watch his soft breathing.

My hormones are already insane. After dropping my youngest off at preschool today I sobbed the whole way home knowing it was the last time he would go to preschool and be the baby of the family. The next time he goes to school he will be a big brother. I cried when I ordered him a big brother t-shirt for him to wear when he goes to school Monday. I cried when I pet my elderly dog – remembering the days it was just me and Buddy against the world. His elder years have been spent dodging crazy boys... and now we're going to add another one to the mix.

My husband has been beyond attentive and wonderful. He has been home all week and our house has never been in better repair. He's anxious and trying not to let on. If I cough at night he's right there to check on me. Anything I've craved, asked for, hinted at, mentioned, he's made it happen.

The waiting game is nuts. Now we're faced with possible ice tomorrow – the day of my very last OB appointment before baby comes. I will freak out if they close that office. I mean I will totally freak out. I have contractions off and on all the time. Some are really strong. Others are merely annoying. I time them if they seem consistent. They always fizzle.

All of this... all of this anxiety and fear and uncertainty and trepidation...

it all quiets in my mind the second I picture holding this little miracle child... looking into his eyes... his tiny hand grasping my finger. I hope that he understands how wanted he is. How loved he is. How worth it all of this has been to have even a few minutes to be with him.

The birth story of Noah James

The birth story of Noah James

February 18, 2014

Born at 8:08 AM

Weighing 8 lb 12 oz, and 20.5 inches long

Homebirth with a midwife

41 weeks 4 days

I woke up Monday morning (February 17th) with the same thought I had been having every morning for the past two weeks.  “I’m still pregnant.  Still not in labor.  Another day.  Ugh.”  At this point I was about 1 and a half weeks late, and almost two weeks more pregnant than I had ever been before.   I was also Very Uncomfortable (and had been for a month or more), very tired of having contractions (which I had been having for more than a month as well), and just very ready to move on to the next part of this journey.  At this point, I had weathered two snowstorms, two full moons, Valentine’s Day, meetings I didn’t think my husband would make it to, birthday parties and homeschool events I thought for sure I would have a newborn at and several other “milestones” that everyone swore would bring about a baby (so-and so’s birthday, barometric pressure changes, etc) with the sense of impending labor, and I was coming to the realization that I would most definitely be pregnant forever.  As silly as it sounds, I really just felt like I was in a time-warp.  I couldn’t picture the after.  Everything was centered around labor and a baby, and I couldn’t get past that.  It was a hard place to be stuck in.  My midwife was supposed to come check on the baby and me around 10:30, so we got up and started to get moving.  After I got out of the shower, my midwife texted me to let me know that she was a little indisposed (which meant someone else was having a baby.  Before me.  Again.) so her assistant would be coming after a bit.  We went ahead and got dressed, had breakfast and got our school day finished before lunch time.  Around 11:00 the apprentice got there, and we chatted a bit, and she listened to the baby’s heartbeat, felt the position, and we decided to do a little cervical massaging.  At this point, I was around 5-6 centimeters dilated, and she could feel the baby’s head low down.  (Although almost two weeks before this, I was 4-5 centimeters dilated--so really, that meant nothing to me).  Just to note, my midwife is really hands-off about intervening in the birth process unless needed, but at this point, after several weeks of discomfort, bad sleep, constant contractions, and just general stress, my mental state was not great.  So, after discussing the pros and cons of gentle encouragement (such as cervical massage), we decided to try that approach.  

After the apprentice left, promising to see me soon (although that is a general phrase, especially when you are 41 weeks and 4 days pregnant), the kids and I sat down to a late lunch, and I noticed that I was having some timeable, uncomfortable contractions.  I started to pay attention to them a bit, and noticed their rhythm of every 7-8 minutes.  They were also “more” than they had been in several days.  Just more to handle, more to manage, more to pay attention to.  I cleaned up from lunch, and played with the kids for a bit, while still timing, and noticed after a while that I was having to concentrate through them, and I was getting frustrated with the kids while I was having them.  I texted my husband around 2:30 and told him to finish up at work, and try to head home soon.  I was also being mindful of the time, and the fact that sometimes traffic can turn his 45 minute commute into an hour and a half, and I really wanted him home before that could happen.  I also texted my midwife and apprentice, and birth photographer to let them know (since they all had quite a drive to make as well).  At this point, the kids and I went upstairs so I could lay down and they could watch a show.  I needed the quiet.

Everyone decided to head on over.  Since I had been dilated for so long, having contractions for so long, and was overdue, we all thought it would happen fast.  And my biggest fear for this birth was having a baby by myself with two little helpers under the age of eight present.  My husband also called my parents and his mom to start heading our way (they had a two hour drive).  As soon as everyone arrived, I did not have another single contraction.  We took the kids for a brief walk (and it was so cold), we sat and chatted for a while, and we figured out dinner.  In the span of 5 hours, I went from having contractions every 7-8 minutes for 3+ hours, to absolutely no contractions.  I was so defeated and mad.  My husband had already set up the birth pool.  Everything was ready.  Beyond ready.  Everyone was there, waiting.  Except me.  Or the baby.  Apparently, we were not ready.  Everyone left but my midwife.  We sat and talked while I ate dinner.  We talked about the different possibilities of what to do (wait, try something more invasive, etc), but in the end I decided another cervical massage and some natural prostoglandins and oxytocin would be what we would try (which means sex).  So before she left, she massaged my cervix one more time, and promised me she would see me soon (there’s that word again).  We got the kids to bed, did our thing, and I ate some chocolate chip pound cake.  I had the same contractions from earlier in the day for about an hour before I decided I was over it and ready to go to bed.  I had had a headache all day, and at this point, it kept me awake until about midnight, so I was feeling frustrated, but finally managed to fall asleep for a bit.  

I woke up around 2:00 with intense contractions.  I laid for a couple of contractions and timed them; they were the same 7ish minutes apart, but I couldn’t lay still through them.  I got up and started pacing around the upstairs of the house.  During contractions I would rock my hips in a circle to help with the intensity.  I remembered my labor with my first son; when I started pacing, it was definitely a turning point.  I figured I should be getting ahold of my birth team pretty quickly.  I texted my midwife and woke up my husband.  We got the three year old settled in the playroom on the futon (he normally sleeps in our room) with some kind of blessed magic (he does not sleep well independently at all), and I made him call our birth photographer--he was worried about calling her at 3:00 in the morning though--of course it was fine.   I was worried that, when everyone got there, my contractions would fizzle out again, but when I couldn’t be still, I just surrendered myself to them and the reality of labor.  I decided to get in the pool around 3:30 after a couple of minutes of indecision.  I wanted to be in the water--I remembered how great it felt with my son’s labor.  But I didn’t want to be trapped.  I still wanted to move around.  Finally, I gave in and sat in the water, and it was good.  I heard people arriving around me, but I wasn’t paying much attention to who was coming in.  During contractions, I would sway back and forth in the water and shake my head back and forth at the same time (like I was saying no).  I was sitting up on my knees holding onto the side of the pool.  My husband was right there with me, holding onto my arms and soothing me with his words and his attention.  He reminded me to drink water, and he turned on some music when I asked him, although it was too loud, so I made him turn it off after just a few minutes.  

At one point I remember sitting and breathing through contractions in the pool, changing positions, moving around, trying to keep it under control, and then laughing.  Because I realized I was singing songs from the move Frozen in my head.  I told my husband and he laughed, and someone suggested we try the music again.    He figured out how to keep it from being too loud, and I was able to zone out to the music and manage my contractions with deep breathing and “riding out the wave” that I pictured in my head.  At another point, someone was giving me a drink of water, and I made a face and said “this is bathroom water!!’--Everyone in the room laughed.  I thought my husband had gotten it for me, but he told me later he knew better.  

Around 5:30, while I was still in the pool, I told Kelly to call our parents (who were staying at a nearby hotel) because I knew the kids would be waking up soon.  Only a couple of minutes later, I heard my son start fussing on the monitor in the other room.  Everyone said that I didn’t hear anything, but just a second later, he cried out louder, and I told Kelly to go check on him.  All the moms in the room laughed because it was definitely a case of super-mommy hearing.  He came into the bedroom crying and fussing.  He was not happy to be waking up in a strange room without me.  It made me sad to hear him, and to not be able to do much about it.  I hugged him and shushed him as well as I can, while dealing with a contraction at the same time.  I was mad that I couldn’t stop the contractions long enough to comfort him.  My husband took him downstairs to distract him with food or electronics or something, and I got back to the task at hand.  

I started to feel a little nauseous and also a little pushy during contractions around 6:00.  My midwife encouraged me to reach down and see if I could feel anything.  I tried through a couple of different contractions, but I got frustrated because it felt like nothing was changing.  I switched positions several times.  It just felt like I couldn’t get into a groove or good position.  My midwife and her assistant suggested some different things and positions but nothing was feeling “right.”  And then I started to feel dizzy.  After just a bit longer (all my vitals were fine though), we decided I should get out of the pool and try something different.  I remember thinking, I can always get back in, because I really wanted to push in the pool.  But I also remember thinking, that never works out, and I should have known better!  I laid on the bed on my right side for a while-this was my favorite position throughout most of the last month of pregnancy.  Interestingly enough, this was the position I chose to push in with my daughter too.  I had to really focus inward and breathe deep through the contractions.  I wanted back pressure at this point, and my husband was amazing at doing it.  I really wanted him to just push on my back forever, but I remember thinking that would be hard for him, and I would have to give him a break sometimes.  After a bit, my midwife made me turn over.  Later I joked with her, calling her mean because she made me get in some seriously uncomfortable positions.  All in the name of having a baby.  So I laid on the opposite side for a few contractions.  Then she made me get on my hands and knees, with my chest close to the bed, and my butt in the air.  Her assistant helped me rock and sway my hips in this position, and that wasn’t too horrible.  Every time she made me change positions she would tell me, “just a few contractions like this.” And I would manage two or three and then flip back over to my right side.  I was being a bit stubborn, even though I knew in my head why she was doing it, to help the baby move into the right position.  But it hurt, and I was tired and mad.  The worst and final position was flat on my back.  It was hard for me to breathe (I have never been able to breathe well on my back), and hard for me to stay on top of the contractions like this.  I managed exactly three, complaining through the first one, and deep breathing through the next two and then flipped back to my right side, and said” I’m done.”  At this point, I laid and breathed and dozed through contractions for a bit.  I wanted pressure on my back for some contractions, and I didn’t for others.  I did want people to know I was having contractions, so at the beginning of every contraction, I would say in a panicked voice, “Kelly!”  I don’t know what I wanted him to do about it, but I just wanted it known.  After a bit (time periods are hazy here), my midwives decided to give us a bit of rest time.  They told Kelly to lay down with me and they went out of the room to let us rest.  I just remember falling asleep between contractions, and being jolted awake by the building of a contraction.  I remember comparing it to my daughter’s labor which was very similar in the time of day, and me dozing between contractions, and needing to stay awake to stay on top of them.  The one thing that made them bearable was to breathe deep through them, and picture a wave in my head.  I knew that if I could ride that particular wave, I would be done with that contraction soon.

It seemed like an hour or more, but looking at my labor notes from my midwives, after about 20 minutes of laying and dozing and riding the contraction waves, I suddenly felt a sharp pop inside my body.  In the first second I thought it was the baby kicking really hard, but in the next moment I realized my water broke.  I called out “Hey, my water just broke,” and everyone started to move around.  My sweet photographer friend had been dozing on the floor in a corner, and she popped up, called for the midwife and came to check the fluid.  We were all aware of possible meconium, since baby was overdue, but she told me the fluid was clear, and I felt some relief with that news (although in the middle of things, I don’t think I processed that thought until later).  Almost as soon as my water broke (which was around 7:59), I started to feel the intense need to push.  Way different than the way I was feeling in the pool earlier.  There was no denying or stopping this urge.  My body was doing it without me thinking about it.  I was still laying on my right side, so I grabbed my husband’s hands (who somehow was in front of me on the floor, instead of behind me on the bed, although I don’t know how he got there), and started to push.  It felt like I couldn’t push effectively in this position so I mentioned wanting to move to the pool.  Everyone encouraged me to go ahead and move before the next contraction, but I couldn’t get up.  There’s just something about a baby IN the birth canal that makes moving really uncomfortable.  I was mad I didn’t make it back to the pool for pushing.  But I did need to get up off my side/back to feel like I was making some kind of progress while pushing.  It was virtually impossible to move, though.  My amazing birth team lifted me and pulled me up from laying down flat to squatting on the bed, since I could not do it myself.  I started to push in that position, and really felt the difference.  I felt the burning feeling that everyone always talks about.  I yelled, and screamed a lot (so much that my throat was raw afterwards).  I do remember that I stopped myself from cussing.  Strong language doesn’t bother me at all, but for some reason, I’ve always wanted to avoid that during my births, but I have to make a conscious effort to avoid it.  I was worried about the kids hearing me yell.  I knew they had been getting ready to leave with my parents, but I wasn’t sure they had actually gone yet.  I asked someone if the kids were still there, and they told me they weren’t.  (My mom told me later that she heard me yell, but the kids didn’t, and they left right away after that.)

I made sure this time to LOOK at his head crowning.  I wanted to remember seeing and feeling that.  Although it felt like an eternity of pushing, and I said several times “Why is this not done yet?” and “How much longer?!  Its got to be almost finished.  Its taking so long!”, I only pushed for 9 minutes.  His head finally fully emerged, and, after breathing for a moment, I put my hands down on the bed in front of me to push out the rest of his body.  I remember someone saying “Turn, baby, turn.”  They were encouraging him to turn so his shoulders would come out.  I kind of expected him to come right out after his head had crowned but it took a bit more work to get his shoulders out.  The apprentice caught him (as I can see from my pictures--I couldn’t remember that detail, and also how he got into my arms--I had to ask the photographer), and handed him to me, and I checked right away to see what he was.  I said “Hiiiiiii, little boy!!”, and everyone laughed and cheered.  He was finally here.  

He was quiet for a few moments, and I rubbed his back and talked to him and moved him around to stimulate him.  He started to cough and cry and pink up.  He was just covered in vernix, which everyone laughed at since he was so late.  We weren’t expecting that (the placental exam later showed several calcifications and just general “oldness” though, so he was still pretty late).  Within 10 minutes of his birth, he was latched on to my left breast, vigorously nursing.  He stayed that way for the next hour (and really, 98% of the next 24 hours). 

After a bit (after the placenta was delivered), despite his constant nursing, my midwife noticed I was bleeding more than I probably should be, and that my uterus just wasn’t really contracting the way she wanted it to be.  My pulse was a bit elevated, and she needed to take some steps to control the bleeding.  The next hour or two was a little nerve-wracking for me.  I knew I was losing more blood than I should be, and while it wasn’t (or didn’t seem like) an emergent or panicky situation, I knew it could be serious, and could cause me to have to go to the hospital after a perfectly amazing homebirth.  But with careful monitoring and management, they were able to stabilize the blood loss and my vitals, and everything was cautiously ok.  

My parents came back and brought the kids back to meet their baby brother.  They had only made it to the hotel parking lot before Kelly told them to come back.  The kids were SO excited to hear he was a boy.  They were utterly fascinated with him.  I worried about how my 3 year old would react-he is a momma’s boy, but he was (and still is) so in love with “his baby brother.”  

I spent a lot of the end of this pregnancy and labor mad.  Just plain mad.  Mad that it was taking so long to go into labor, mad that I was so uncomfortable, mad at almost everything anyone would say to try to comfort me, mad at what I viewed as my lack of progress, mad that it was taking so long to have a baby.  You can really see that in my photographers’ pictures.  I think you can also see the point where I give up the “mad” and get over it.  I had a lot of expectations for this pregnancy and birth, and I think its safe to say, the majority of them were proven wrong or unfulfilled.  Even so, I am still ecstatic about my experience, and so happy for the way things went.  

I am so thankful for all the support of my family and friends, and of my birth team.  One of the most important things to me about my previous birth experiences is the sense of connection I have felt with everyone with me.  Its one of my favorite things.  There is nothing quite so special as being able to talk about your birth with people that were there and can remind you or give you their impressions of what happened, or their special thoughts and memories.  It adds a whole other dimension to what I get to remember.  I’m also so thankful to have pictures from my birth--it is one of the most amazing things I will ever have, and I am so grateful to have them.  

Finally a baby!

Baby Noah James was born Monday February 18 at 8:08 am. He weighed 8lb 12oz and was 21.5 inches long. I promise I will write and share my birth story soon!  It was very different (but still amazing) from my first two births!

36 weeks for me

36 weeks along...

Insulin
My blood sugars are absolutely incredible.  Lessons learned the hard way include:  Subway's flatbreads are NOT low carb.  In fact, I'd wager there's lots of sugar or HFCS in that dough.  What's crazy is - before starting insulin I was eating mostly Paleo/ whole foods anyway - but this one TINY dose of insulin at night seems to regulate my blood sugars all day long.  In fact, we've lowered my dose from 16 units to 10 units.  Dropping down means my fasting sugars are almost always between 80 and 90... I'm not waking up hungry in the middle of the night and I'm sleeping better.  But for some reason, since dropping to 10 units my numbers have stabilized through the day.  I totally don't understand how that works but having stable sugars is wonderful  The whole point of this is to make sure baby boy doesn't go hypoglycemic when he's out on his own, to keep him from being a giant baby (under 9lbs is the goal)  and also to try and keep me from becoming a full blown Type II diabetic.  Honestly, I made all of my previously-discussed lifestyle changes before getting pregnant specifically to prevent Type II Diabetes.  I will always be at an increased risk thanks to developing gestational diabetes.  I will always have to be very careful with what I eat and have to lose this extra weight to decrease my risk in the future.  We all have our challenges, right?

Contractions.
I'm one of the "lucky" women who has never felt contractions... sort of.  With my 1st son they broke my water and gave me an epidural at the same time.  It happened so fast because if my platelets dropped any lower I wouldn't be allowed to have an epidural - and they needed that line in because a c-section was a pretty high possibility.   Also, I was NOT interested in having a natural childbirth... especially an unmedicated but pictocin assisted labor.  No thanks.  They did turn the epidural off after my 2nd hour of pushing. Yea - that's a horrible shock... to go from zero pain to feeling everything in an instant.  They thought it would help me deliver faster but really I think I just ended up shouting swear words and screaming from the shock of it.  I was so weak and out of it that I don't remember anything beyond "PAIN."   I never went into labor with my 2nd and never really had contractions along the way for whatever reason.   Anyway... long story short... I don't know what contractions feel like.  Or I didn't.  I have them every night now. I've had them all day today. In fact, I've even been timing them.  They're nothing to get super excited about - the most they come is about 15 minutes apart.  When I do have them they are absolutely exhausting.  I also know if I do a lot of walking I'll do a lot of contracting so when I hit 37 weeks it's game on. 

Name
He still has no name.  We have a top 3 between the husband and I.  Both boys also offer their own suggestions which is super duper cute.  Husband is leaving it up to me.  I don't like the pressure.  Can't he just come out with a name tag on?  I have always laughed at people who wait to decide on a name when the baby is born because all babies come out looking like Winston Churchill.  I'm waiting for my husband to say "you know, go with xxxxxx" but he's not saying anything.  Maybe when I get to look him in his eyes his name will be obvious. 

Travel
Husband is off to San Diego for his cousin's wedding next weekend... when I'm 37 weeks along.  I do have an ultrasound, NST and OB appointment in the morning before he leaves so we will have a good look at things and can always just nope out of it last minute if needed.  I hope he's able to go... this is an important wedding.  I also hope I'm not in labor with kids farmed out across town until he gets back from, you know, the other side of the damn country.  Once he gets back it will be game on for getting this kid out.

Nesting.
Nesting is nuts.
And exhausting.
And if nature doesn't let my kids be in school for the next 3 weeks to allow me a few hours of alone time before I never have alone time again (you know, until this kiddo can start preschool) I'm going to need extra medication sent home from the hospital with me.
I have these incredible bursts of energy and do things like pull up all the rugs and mop all of our hardwood floors.  Or go through the kids rooms and clean out all of their toys and closets.  Or clean out our closet. 
And then there are days like today where I'm horizontal for most of the day watching the Olympics or Top Chef and just wishing for relief and energy.

Cravings:
Because I'm on a very restricted diet I'm craving the following things:
Bruscetta
Orzo Salad
Wine
Sushi
Fried chicken with mashed potatoes
A bowl of cereal
Rhode Island style Calamari
Fish and Chips
A strawberry milkshake
Linguni with clams
Mashed potatoes
Pancakes
Broccoli salad (okay, I can make that one on my own, no excuses for this)




Now, most of these are not things I really ever eat but believe me I would push an old lady with a hip replacement out of my way to get a bite of those as soon as I'm cleared to eat solids post section.

3 weeks max until baby day. I'm ready for him to be here.

Overdue and mad...

All my pregnancy-related Facebook posts from the last couple of weeks:

February 3

So thankful for Stacey Alexander who brought is dinner today! I love cooking for families with new babies but next time I'm gonna cook a meal for a momma who is 39+ weeks pregnant too!!

February 4

Pretty sure the baby is trying to skip labor and just kickbox it's way out.

February 5

still pregnant, rainy day, making bagels…why not?!

February 7

officially 24 hours and 10 minutes more pregnant than I've ever been before. Awesome.

February 7

I guess it is a bit of a consolation prize to be told that I look like I'm due in July. And the shock when I told them my due date was fun. And now we're going to make chocolate chip cookies. And then I'm going to eat a lot of them.

February 8

Don't ask.

http://haveyouhadthatbabyyet.com/

February 8

ideas for good takeout for dinner for an overdue pregnant mom who's mad she's got to go grocery shopping and plan food for another week tomorrow?

February 9

Grocery shopped, cleaned the kitchen, swept and mopped, cleaned out Emma's desk, and went for a walk. Kind of exhausted and still pregnant. Oh, the things you do to distract yourself…

February 10

arrgggghhhhhhhhh

50 minutes ago

40w5(or6)d pregnant, + waiting for about 10 inches of snow and ice in the next 24 hours=living on the edge

Someday these are gonna be funny.  But not right now.  

The Homestretch...

Or, I didn't think I'd get this far.  And I'm seriously moody and hormonal.  But, seriously…I've been having contractions (sometimes painful, sometimes not) for basically 5 weeks now.  More if you count the beginning of the Braxton Hicks contractions that always plague me throughout my pregnancy (starting at 10 weeks this time).  I've had several instances in the last 2 weeks or so, that I've thought, oh yeah I'm in labor.  Well apparently not--cause the baby's still in there.

Even again last night, I had painful contractions that woke me up every 15 minutes or so for about 2 hours last night.  I kept telling myself I would call my midwife (or tell my husband to do it, anyway) if they got any closer together, but they never did.  And eventually they stopped, and I got to sleep for 30 minutes at a time, instead of 15.  Which is how I have been sleeping since month 7.  I'M SO TIRED!!!!

This time, my biggest labor fear is having a baby super fast, by myself with my two kids "helping."  I've heard a lot of stories recently (from people I know--so not just rumors) of babies being born with 1.5 or 2 hours of labor, and I'm just so scared that is going to happen to me!

I'm antsy, I'm hormonal, I'm impatient, I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of insanity all the time, and I'm ready for this to be done.  Hopefully my next post is going to be about my baby.  Or, I might not post again until it IS about the baby.  See you on the flip side!

Insulin... old school style

Since last night was my first night injecting myself with insulin in nearly 5 years I was, admittedly, a touch rusty.  Also, since my OBs aren't in the diabetes management business on a regular basis they gave me the old school stuff to use.  As in a vial of insulin and straight-up needles to use.  Like this:

 Woah.
Now - in the past I used an easy device that had the insulin loaded up and I just turned a knob to my dose, did my shot and it was over.  This involves real, doctor-like measuring.  I was totally nervous.  Husband wanted to do the shot and I told him he needed to stand on the other side of the room.  These shots are basically painless if you do them right.  Doing them right involves pinching some fat (I have plenty) and sticking it in straight and quick  As you can see above - the needed is very small.  It really doesn't hurt.  It takes a few seconds of gathering courage to do the stick then it's over.  Now, the .8cc thing had me a bit freaked out.  I mean, .8?  It's a fraction but measuring it on my needle scared the heck out of me.  When I finally figured out I had a 1 cc needle and hash marks demarking each .1 then the .8 didn't seem so scary.  I drew out the insulin... and freaked.  Mostly because it LOOKED like a lot of insulin in the long thin needle.  Keep in mind, my previous dispensers sort of hid the actual medication - so I have no idea how .8cc compares to previous doses.  I just closed my eyes, trusted my doctor, gave myself the shot and hoped for the best.  I also explained over and over to my husband that if I woke up in the night and was shaking, sweating, talking-nonsense etc that he needed to get sugar in me (easiest would be some ginger ale we have downstairs) asap.  He was, to say the least, a little freaked out.

Have I mentioned I'm a total hypochondriac?  I don't mean that in the cute "she's nervous" way.  I mean that in the "she's usually convinced she has one fatal disease or another" way.  Laying in bed after that shot I was certain I'd used too much insulin.  Certain.  When I hadn't died after an hour I figured I was probably just over-reacting and promptly went to sleep.

This morning I really didn't feel any different.  I was pretty sure, in fact, that the insulin had done nothing and maybe I had too small a dose.

One tiny squirt of insulin... and my blood sugar was 90 this morning.  Bang.  They will technically take anything under 100 as a "good" number.  Anything under 95 is awesome.  90?  It's like a dream.  The other thing I noticed is after actually waking up I was a) not nauseous and b) STARVING as in I have to go eat breakfast right now or something bad will happen hungry.  I have not felt this way about eating in the morning since I got pregnant in late June.   I ate a low carb breakfast as per the "rules." (and my own life rules to be honest).  I had light bread, swiss cheese, a tiny bit of butter and an over-very-easy egg.  That's a total of about 10 carbs in case you're wondering.  I'm supposed to keep it under 22.  An hour later I needed my blood sugar to test under 120.  An hour later is was 92.  What the what?!  It means my slow insulin is working.  I have had constant trouble with my fasting and my post-breakfast numbers while my lunch and dinner numbers have been stellar.  Has the problem been solved with a tiny little shot? Oh how I hope so.

Now because I'm a classic gestational diabetic (as opposed to a type II diabetic) I know that as my pregnancy continues I will have to increase the insulin dose as my pregnancy hormones continue to ravage my pregnancy-weary body.  That's just how it goes and it's to be expected.  Basically I'll go up .1cc if my sugars are high for 2-3 days in a row.  For now though, total success.  I'll take it.

All was quiet until....

Let's face it, my pregnancy has been boring.  I have constant morning sickness but with medicine it's managed.  Other than that there's just been nothing to talk about. 

Wrong.

Of course, what I wanted least was my gestational diabetes to return.  I fought it.  I exercised.  I ate as low carb as possible.  It's just in my chemistry. I get pregnant and sometime around 28 weeks my blood sugars go insane.  I've been monitoring them the whole time... and like clockwork at 30 weeks they went crazy.  The endocrinologist I've seen in the past is located in downtown Charlotte.  I'm an hour away.  Her office runs a minimum of an hour behind (they warn you of this when you make appointments) and each appointment lasts about an hour.  Doing the math I'm looking at a minimum of 3 hours to get that done.  And that's once a week.  On top of OB appointments which are also once a week.  I begged my OB for an alternative.  Because my OB is awesome he found me an alternative diabetes center - at a hospital 10 minutes from my house.  SCORE!  My first appointment went fine.  It's the same suggested diet as the other place although for some reason this diabetes center made a point of having a whole page of literature about why I shouldn't have saccharine.  When I promised not to use my time machine to go back to 1974 and have a Tab to drink they seemed satisfied.  I can shrug that off as a quirk of the office. Well, my numbers suck.  My daytime numbers are fine - my fasting number his horrible.  They want it around 80.  Mine is like 115.  I email my numbers to the dietitian assigned every Wednesday.  Of course, I never hear back from her.  I'm concerned because my numbers are so high so I call.  Then she emails me back. Oh yea, you do have high numbers.  We might just make an adjustment to your medication.  Let's see how you look next week.  Because my pregnancy hormones are getting stronger rather than weaker, my numbers the following week were worse.  But nothing.  Finally I have my sit down appointment with them yesterday.  It goes like this:

Them: "Wow, your numbers are bad.  What does your doctor say about this?  

Me: "I haven't seen the doctor in 2 weeks."

Them: "You're going to need insulin."

Me: "okay."

Them: "has your doctor given you insulin yet?"

Me: "No."

Them "I wonder why not."
Me: "I haven't actually spoken to or seen a doctor since I was referred here."

Them: "Oh, we don't have a doctor.  Your doctor will have to control your insulin."

Me; "um, so why do I come here?"

Them: "we just help with diet."

I am incredulous.  What exactly is my insurance company paying exaggerated. insane fees for?  For someone to cheer me in my continued avoidance of out-dated artificial sweeteners?  We both realize that there's no need for me to be there anymore.  They promise to call my OB and have a long talk with them about whatever.  I'm seeing my OB tomorrow anyway so I'm just ready to get out of that office.

I make a quick stop at the grocery store and head home.

Then I hear the sound.

It's the distinctive sound of a flat tire.

Well, there it is. 

I do make it home and as I'm getting the jack out of the back of my car I realize that I'm almost 33 weeks pregnant.  I simply cannot change the car's tire.  I make a few frantic texts to arrange to have my youngest brought home from preschool then sit and wait for 12:30... when my husband would be available to take a phone call.  I needed to know whether to just call AAA and have them change the tire or if he wanted to take care of it.  Of course he wanted to take care of it - but had a meeting from 2-3.  The G needs to be picked up from his school at 3 and that's when things got a little dicey.  Husband drove home by 1:30.  Took the tire off the car.  We drove to the tire shop and dropped it off to have it fixed then drove back to husband's office.  Dropped him off.  Drove back to G's school.  Picked him up.  Drove back to husband's office.  Picked him up.  Drove back to the tire place.  Picked up the new tire.  Drove back home.  New tire goes on the car.  Not in time, though, for us to make it to G's piano lessons.  He's thrilled.  I'm exhausted.  

And so we reach today.  OB appointment day.  I also have my first non-stress-test (NST) of this pregnancy.  It goes with the gestational diabetes territory.  I couldn't get an appointment until 11am.  Which is dicey because NSTs are 20 minutes... THEN you see the doctor and we had the whole insulin crap to deal with.  I arrive 10 minutes before my scheduled appointment and I wait.  And I wait.  And I wait.  Finally at 11:20 I ask what's going on.  The nurse is, apparently, running behind.  You think?  Finally at 11:35 I'm called back.  And it's her.  The nurse.  The BAD nurse who can't ever find my baby's heartbeat.  I brace myself.  This is going to be bad.  

She's wearing a mask.  Either she hasn't had a flu shot or she has had the flu and is contagious.  

Thanks for that.

Also, thanks to the mask, I'm unable to understand anything she's saying to me.

Sweet merciful crap can I just do this myself???

We go through the weight, blood pressure, are you having headaches or swelling dance.

Now it's time for the NST.

For some reason she gets the doppler first. 

Why God?

Why?

She cannot find the heartbeat.
Now I can SEE the baby moving under her stupid doppler.  There is no concern in my mind about the baby.

I'm concerned about who is going to bail me out when I get finished throat punching this woman.

I finally point to the spot where his heartbeat always is and say "you might try right here.  This is usually where we find him."  

She rolls her eyes and moves right to where I pointed and - what do you know - INSTANT heartbeat.  In fact, it was so loud she jumped and moved her hand, then spent a few seconds finding the heartbeat again.

All of this is for naught though as we still have to start the damn NST.

She hooks me up to the monitors (the same ones you wear when you're in labor) and off we go.  Heartbeat is a solid 145 ish.  And the kid is moving.  I have to push a button every time he moves.  I may as well hold down on the button for the first 15 minutes.  He's moving so much that it's making the monitor make all sorts of crazy sounds.  Of course, for some reason, this nurse has the volume up so loud that I can't think, I can't play on my phone, I can do nothing but hold the stupid movement button down and watch the clock knowing I'm going to miss preschool pickup.  Again.  The kid is going nuts in there.  His heart beat ranges from 137 - 185.  The nurse is insisting he has the hiccups by saying "yo bay-bay got the hiccups."  Yea, I've been pregnant before.  This isn't the hiccups.  The kid is moving like crazy.  I finally put my hand on my stomach and shift around  a bit to get him to calm down.  It works.  He goes to sleep the last 5 or so minutes of the NST.

Given the all clear, I have to wait to see the OB.  I make the call to husband.  He needs to do the preschool pickup.  I'm stuck here.

When I finally see the OB (after a different nurse gets fussy because I don't have a piece of paper with my fasting blood sugar from this morning on it.  Apparently ME writing it down and handing her the paper for her to photocopy is way better than her just writing the number 118 on my already updated blood sugar chart) he's tells me that he's going to manage my insulin, this isn't a big deal, we go through it all, bada-bing, bada boom.  It's nice to finally talk to someone who knows what they're talking about.

He did tell me that they will never, not ever, no way, no how schedule my c-section before 39 weeks - so it's up to me to go into labor in that 38th week.  Stupid doctors with stupid ethics and rules.  I'm waiting for a call back to get that scheduled.

All of this is exhausting and frustrating.  If one more person says "but you're almost there" they will die from the burning glare I give them.  Anyone who wants to spend the next 5-6 weeks shooting themselves up with insulin, testing blood sugars, restricting their diet, vomiting or feeling like they will, dealing with the back pain, insomnia, being up from 2am- 4am every night, feeling a baby kick your internal organs so hard that you can actually HEAR things moving inside your body -- all going to the doctor once a week and dealing with 2 active kids and a (admittedly very supportive) husband with a demanding work schedule - they're welcome to trade me places.  Also - if you want to give the baby a name please feel free.  We can't decide. 

My Blessingway!

My amazing friends gave me a Blessingway or a Mother Blessing this past weekend.  Different than a traditional baby shower, a Blessingway typically focuses on the mother and the upcoming birth journey.  I had a Blessingway with my second baby too, and it was a great way to recognize and honor the journey of a mother.  Also, we don't use a lot of baby gear, and buying gender neutral clothing is not that fun, so instead of all the tiny baby clothing and disposable diapers that you usually get for a baby shower, I got to spend several hours talking and laughing with my friends and family, and feeling really blessed by their love.

We had a bead ceremony, where everyone brought a bead (or two or three) that had special significance to them about me.  Some were for color (I got several blue beads for calming strength in labor), some were for shape, and some were just because the person liked the bead.  What was special to me was what they told me about each one, and how it related to them and to me.  We strung these on a labor necklace (that I usually just look at, not wear) to help me remember my support while I am laboring.

We also did a string bracelet thing, where we are were joined in a circle by a string, connecting us to each other and to our past (by naming our matriarchal lineage).  We cut the string after we were finished and tied it on our wrists as a bracelet to be left on until the baby is born.  The symbolic part of this was really powerful for several of us.

One of my favorite parts of being pregnant is doing henna on my belly.  I may be super uncomfortable, but I have this really great, beautiful belly, and I love being able to put henna on it.  I did it for my last pregnancy too.  This time, we did it at the Blessingway, and each person drew a small design.  I love this, because I can name every person and point to their contribution.  Just another way to remind me of my support when I need it.  My kids are obsessed with the henna too.  They love looking at the designs on my belly, and talking about who drew what, and what it looks like.  We've gotten some funny descriptions from them.

its so special to me to have that support and feel that love, especially at this point in my journey, when I am tired, and feeling finished, even though I have some time left.  I have said it again and again, but I have the most amazing, supportive friends and family!!

Part of my henna design