Two Months

Two months.  Such a short time, long time, amazing time.  Two months is short, in the big scheme of things.  I've been a mom for two months of my 355.  (Sure, go do the math if you want to.)  Two months is long, for Will, it's been his whole life.  It feels long, to me.  Remembering not being a mom is fuzzy.  Two months is amazing.  This little boy has grown so much, changed so much, can do so much more, is so much more his own little person.  Wow.  Two months.

Ginny checking out her "brother baby" (we call her his "sister dog") while he was at her level.

Development: Will weighed in at 10.9 lbs. yesterday, diaper included, so we can guess he weighs about 10 3/4 lbs in actuality.  He is now 22 inches long, edging in on two feet tall!  (I just read a story about a woman who never grew past 2 1/2 feet, but was fully developed.  Odd to think of.)  At lunch last week, Will's Nonna (my mom), Grandad (my dad), Daddy, and I all took guesses as to what he'd weigh and measure.  We were weigh (haha, get it?) off, as two of us thought he'd be over 11 lbs and two thought over 12.  Still, the pediatrician said he's gaining weight consistently and is doing very well!

He's also, as you can see, rocking the tummy time.  This little mister holds his head up like a pro, and has been doing so for a while.  The other day he scootched himself around 180 degrees to face the other direction.  When he's upright, he holds his head up and looks around, and he's already practicing "standing," too.  He's amazingly strong.

He continues to be very "verbal" - and often, those sounds are fun and happy.  We still get lots of complaining about things that are not okay with him, but we take delight in his cheerful talk more often now, too.  He has a BIG smile, and a sweet little laugh, and he's starting to smile at us when we come in after being gone.  Melts a mama's heart!

Personality: I think we are going to have our hands full with the little man as he grows up.  My dad would say it's payback, as I was quite the pistol, myself.  Will makes it clear when he's unhappy (although we can't always figure out why) and, when he's hungry, is basically inconsolable until he gets his little tummy full.  He's a little feisty, in some ways, but he's also really sweet and easy going in others.  In the right mood, he can contentedly sit in his swing and take in the world (well, the small part of the hosue he can see from there) with his big blue eyes.  If I had to guess, I'd say he's got some of his mom's stubborness and independence, and some of his dad's easy-going, laid back nature.  We'll see as he continues to grow!

Sleep:  Most nights we're up to about 3 and a half hours of sleep before he needs to get up.  If he wakes up earlier than that, we try to get him to fall asleep again... it works sometimes.  He's still sleeping in the pack-n-play at the foot of our bed.  I was contemplating trying his own room soon (he does take his naps in there), but the pediatrician yesterday told me she didn't think I needed to start that just yet, since we still do get up semi-often at night.  The thing we had the most trouble with before was with him going back to sleep, but he's doing much better with that these days.

Nap times are still frequent, and fairly short.  He usually doesn't sleep longer than an hour, max, and more often, only about 45 minutes.  Still, with wise planning, I can get a lot done during those little breaks.  But I still like to let him have at least one nap just cuddled on me.  It's a nice little rest for both of us, I think.  I like having him be my snuggle bunny, anyway.

Eating:  May I introduce you to Little Piggy?  That's why we thought he'd weigh more.  During the day he eats about every two hours still.  The only way he goes longer is if he's sleeping.  I've been pumping more and giving him a bottle; he seems to like it better, actually.  He has zero trouble switching between bottle and breast, though - as long as there is milk, he's ready to go.  When we give him the bottle, he puts his little hands around it as if he's going to hold it, and if you take it away, he tries to grab it and push your hand back to his mouth.  Okay, little piggy.  :) 

Likes/Dislikes:  He is much more into the swing now that he's a little bigger and a little more calm most of the time.  Like I said, he can spend a good chunk of time sitting there, taking in the bookshelf next to him, being content.  He almost always eventually falls asleep there, and takes a nap a day while swinging away.  He obviously likes eating, and dislikes it when you take the bottle away or move him to switch sides even for a second if he's not done yet.  He really lets you know, Mr. Talkative that he is.  If I may brag, he likes his mama a lot, but still is also good about letting other people hold him, too.  He's a StuCo baby, so he has to be used to it.  He does not like it when he has tummy troubles, or even if he has to poop.  He'll let you know about that, too.  One of the big dogs at my parents, Darcy, loves Will and wants to be wherever he is.  Ginny and Georgie (the other husky) are starting to pay more attention to him, too, and Will seems to be okay with it. 

Milestones:  It's all the little things, you know? From how much he holds his head up to how alert he his and how he talks and smiles and laughs.  He's gone to many more places - other restaurants, coffee shops, people's houses, StuCo functions.  On Mother's Day, we participated in a baby dedication at church, promising to do our best to teach him to love his Father.  Last night he attended his first wedding, although he was tired and so we stood outside the sanctuary and watched and listened through the glass while he went to sleep (because, of course, Mr. Talkative has to talk himself to sleep, too).  We go on walks, and have even jogged some.  I suspect that's more of a milestone for me, right?    His summer is going to be full of visitors - his grandma comes today for the weekend, his "Aunt" Brooke comes from Korea in June, and his Virginia family (includng his soon to be BFF Henry, age 5 months), is coming in July.  Then we'll be off for a week in the mountains.  I'm ahead of myself - these are future milestones! 

Several people have asked me recently if I love being a mom.  Well, of course I do.  It's the most amazing thing I've ever done.  But you know me, the non-Ms.-mush, honest to a fault - so I also tell them it's the hardest thing, too.  I'm tired.  The last time I slept for more than 4 hours was March 22nd.  Changing poopy diapers (which are now getting amazingly stinky) is not my favorite pasttime.  Trying to get a seemingly inconsolable baby to stop crying is exhausting, especially when you've tried everything. 

But I love watching his little face as we sit together in the dark of the night, with the light from the streetlight outside and the little monkey nightlight in the bathroom giving the room a gentle glow.  It's just his and my time, as his daddy sleeps on right beside us, unaware of everything. 

And I love that, once his diaper is changed, he almost always offers the sweetest smile as he rests contentedly on the changing table.  He does some of his best babbling there, too.

And once that inconsolable baby is consoled, well, he looks up at me with these big blue eyes, full of left over tears, and my heart melts.  Or he falls alseep in my arms, peaceful bliss upon his face. 

So I'll take tired, I guess.  The trade-off is worth it.

Four Generations- Great-Grandpa Bob, Nonna, Mom (that's me!), and Will. 

What He's Listening To

On Monday I shared with you the truth that not only is He listening, but He answers.  I couldn't share with you what prompted that post at the time, but I can now.

A week ago Thursday, Husband came home with a story of a not-so-good situation at work.  It shouldn't have been a big deal, but it got blown out of proportion, and more or less, his co-workers threw him under the proverbial bus.  Friday he worked at a different site while his boss was going to supposedly "work it out."  I say supposedly because, in my opinion, his boss had no intention of doing any such thing.  Monday morning he told Husband that they needed to talk, but he was too busy until Tuesday, so he'd have to wait.  In the meantime, Husband had the day off.  Bravely, Husband told Boss, "I was stressed about this all weekend, so I just need to ask.  Do I need to be looking for another job?"  Boss' reply?  "Possibly."

Hence, we prayed, and God listened and answered.

On Tuesday, Husband and Boss met for lunch.  Boss didn't even mention the incident from Thursday that was the trigger of all of this, instead citing that "the guys had been complaining" about Husband.  He could only reference one particular story, where both Husband and the co-worker were part of a misunderstanding.  Co-worker, though, apparently made it sound like Husband was totally to blame and that Husband isn't doing a good job.  Whatever, Co-worker.  I'm on to you. 

Finally, Husband asked Boss point blank if he was being let go.  "Yes."  They sorted out the details.  Husband asked a few questions.  Boss promised to be a good reference for him.  Whatever, Boss.  I'm on to you.

Husband's first words to me where that he felt like "this was a long time coming."  His opinion was that Boss had been saving up little things people had been saying about Husband, and rather than communicating them all along so Husband could work on things, just stored them up until now.  (Not that we know what those things are, since Boss had only the one example.) 

It would be easy to be frustrated, because Husband has been there for four years, longer than any of these other guys.  Husband has witnessed plenty of mistakes and issues from his co-workers, but he's not the type to go complaining to the boss.  He's shown plenty of loyalty to this company, but is receiving none back.

Yet mostly, I feel peace about it.  Yes, that's right. I feel good about my husband losing his job.  (For now.  Remind me of that in a month if he is still jobless.)

You see, there was no life for Husband at this company.  It wasn't an uplifting, life-giving environment for him.  I realize that no job can be that all the time, but this job was NEVER that.  And he was weary of it, most of the time.

Now he's excited about some prospects.  He's looking for a job, obviously, but not necessarily a job he wants to keep for ever.  One prospect he's looking into is school.  Electrical Engineering.  You have to understand how huge it is that he would be excited about school, particularly something as hard as engineering.  School has always been very hard for him, and he doesn't love it. But he met with the dean at a local university that caters to non-traditional students, and he's excited.  I don't know if it's financially viable right now (we were in a tight situation before the job loss), but I'm excited that he's excited, and we're going to look into it.  God knows what will work out.

I should be scared and stressed.  Finances are tough.  I was going to post the other week about how we'd just gone through things and it was tight.  As in, don't know how we're going to pay for daycare in the fall tight.  As in, what can we get rid of to nickle and dime our way into having enough to live on tight.  As in, should we sell our townhouse and move into something cheaper, or with my parents, tight.  So this should stress me out.

But instead, I am hopeful.  Husband is excited.  And I keep being listened to, and answered.  Here are a few of the things He keeps saying.  (All from Jesus Calling.)

I AM YOUR LORD!  Seek Me as Friend and Lover of your soul, but remember that I am also King of kings - sovereign over all.  You can make some plans as you gaze into the day that stretches out before you.  But you need to hold those plans tentatively, anticipating that I may have other ideas....  Instead of scanning the horizon of your life, looking for the things that need to be done, concentrate on the task before you and the One who never leaves your side....  Trust me to show you what to do when you have finished what you are doing now.  I will guide you step by step, as you bend your will to Mine. 

(Proverbs 19:21, LUke 1:79)

AS YOU SIT QUIETLY in My Presence, remember that I am a God of abundance.  I will never run out of resources; My capacity to bless you is unlimited

(Philippians 4:19, 2 Corinthians 5:7)

COME TO ME with your plans held in abeyance.  Worship Me in spirit and in truth, allowing My Glory to permeate your entire being.  Trust Me enough to let Me guide you through this day, accomplishing My purposes in My timing.  Subordinate your myriad plans to My Master Plan.  I am sovereign over every aspect of your life!

The challenge continually before you is to trust Me and search for My way through each day.  Do not blindly follow your habitual route, or you will miss what I have prepared for you.  As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts higher than your thoughts. 

(John 4:24, Isaiah 55:8-9)

His promises are secure. I'm learning, though, that to really fully grasp ahold of them, we need to earnestly seek and spend time with Him.  As our pastor said last week, "once a week for an hour is not enough time to cultivate an intimate relationship with Him."  It must be more.

We are confident that He is with us, and with that knowledge, we can do this.  It will be a stretching season, a growing one, but I am sure, a blessed one, as He walks the path before us and with us. 

While we are not sure where we are going, we know it will be Good.  Pray with us for wisdom and discernment as we take each step, won't you?

He Answers

If ever I doubted that He hears us, consider my doubts removed.  He hears, and He answers.

At this moment, I cannot share with you the particular situation that Husband and I are facing, but I can tell you our initial reactions. 

Fear.  Feelings of failure and frustration.  Uncertainty. 

"Let's see what Jesus has to say," I said.  We turned to the devotional Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young.  "Lord, let Your words be just the words we need to hear today," I prayed silently.  For Husband to hear, he needed to hear the perfect words.  And I began to read aloud, without scanning ahead.

May 14.

I AM A MIGHTY GOD.  Nothing is too difficult for Me.  I have chosen to use weak ones like you to accomplish My purposes.  Your weakness is designed to open you up to My Power.  Therefore, do not fear your limitations or measure the day's demands against your strength.  What I require of you is to stay connected to Me, living in trusting dependence on My limitless resources.  When you face unexpected demands, there is no need to panic.  Remember that  I am with you.  Talk with Me, and listen while I talk you through each challenging situation.

I am not a careless God.  When I allow difficulties to come into your life, I equip you fully to handle them.  Relax in My Presence, trusting in My Strength.

(Luke 1:37, 2 Corinthians 12:9)

About halfway through I began to cry.  "Okay, God, You're listening to us.  I see that."  We read it aloud twice, and then each silently on our own, praying through it.  Husband went back a few days in the book, to see what Jesus had to say the day this story began.  I didn't read it with him, but apparently the words were again in answer.  "Apparently we should be listening to Him more often," we commented. 

We talked about what we were feeling, and then prayed together, knowing clearly that God was listening.  We asked for wisdom, for clarity, for discernment.  For peace, for our identities to be wrapped up in the Lord alone, for provision.  We know He was listening, as He continues to listen. 

And He answers.





Friends, I look forward to the opportunity I will have to share the rest of the story with you in the future, as we know we are not walking alone.  Our path is lit (although we cannot see just yet), and it has already been traveled upon (although we do not know where it will go).  Until then, pray with me, won't you?

The One Where I Talk About Being a Mom....Again

Had to share this picture.  How that's comfortable for a nap, I have no idea, but he sure was sleeping soundly.

One of my recent Facebook status' read thus:

"1. I feel like my son is huge! He's grown so much already. I know, I know, you'll all say it just keeps going faster!

2. I wonder if I'll have a status update that doesn't involve something Mommy-related any time soon?"

After all the comments about how my status' would all be Mommy-related, I made sure to post this one:

"Cleaned the bathroom, made the bed, took a shower, went to the library, AND am doing a little online grading today. Is it prideful to be impressed with myself?"

Of course, if we're being honest here, well, it's only impressive that I did all those things today because  I'm the mommy of a 5-week old baby. 

See, what I'm realizing is that I've entered the next phase of my life, Motherhood, where everything is different than it was before.   Everything comes back to being a mom, it seems.  I want to be a better blogger (for various reasons) and have one of those blogs that is a fun mix of who I am - stories about things that happened, ways God is teaching me, random posts about clothes and decor and fun things- but all I can come up with these days seems to be Mommy-things.  (Of course, finding time to blog is also challenging.  Typing with a baby in your arms is a skill I have not yet mastered.) 

It's the same when I Skype with my bestest friend Brooke, who is currently living in Korea.  She gets to tell me all sorts of her adventures about people and places.  What do I do all day?  Hold the baby, change the baby's diaper, feed the baby, comfort the  baby, play with the baby.  Repeat.  "Today he spit up five times!"  Not exactly newsworthy, folks.

But it's who I am, now.  In an instant (okay, after 9 months of pregnancy and 10 hours of labor), I am a mom.  I can't just run to the store if I need something - I have to load up Will.  Go to a movie?  Haven't figured out how to do that yet.  Want to read others' blog posts?  That's not usually the most important use of his naptime. 

When it's time to go back to school in the fall, I'm not going to want to stay there late, I'm going to want to go pick up my little boy and spend the evening with him.  Nor will I want to grade papers, I imagine.  Sick days (which I never take) will now be taken when I need to be home with a little guy who isn't feeling so well.  I'll be thinking about those big blue (or whatever color they turn out to be) eyes all day, and waiting to see that sweet little smile.

I'll be (I already am) a little more of a worrier than I've ever been before, because I'm responsible for him, for his health, his well-being, his spiritual development, his education.  I care about school districts and safety and college funds.  I'll do price comparisons on baby items and do research about what products are best.  I'll think about making my own baby food to save money.  I read to him already, whatever I'm reading, and soon we'll start with books of his own.  I'll speak Spanish to him so he can learn it early, and leave the English for when we're with his daddy.  We'll do a baby dedication at church, and I will continue praying and praying for him, every day.

I've always been a daughter - to my parents, for 30 years.  To my Father, a few less.  A reader for 25 years, a student my whole life.  A big sister for 24 years. A jogger for 13 years, a coffee drinker for 15. A wife for nearly 4.  A Spanish-speaker for 16 years, a teacher for 8. These are the roles I play, among others. 

But now, well, now I've added a new role, and I'm pretty sure it's one of the important roles I'll ever have.  It's a nerve-wracking, joy-filling, fear-creating, awe-inspiring role.  Being a mom is forever.  I'll be his mom when he gets his first tooth, on his first day of school, at his high school graduation.  When my son is grown and having his own children, I'll still be his mother.  I'll be his mother until the day I die.

So I guess it's okay if that's all I have to talk about these days, because it's kind of a big deal, you know.  Someday (and maybe sooner than later), I'll blog about something else, but for now, this is where I'm at, spending most of my time learning how to be the best mommy I can be to my sweet Peanut.

I'm a diaper-changer, a colic-comforter, a tear-drier, a rock-as-we-walk-er, a cozy-cuddler, a sit-and-stare-er, a baby-talking Spanish-speaker, a play-whenever-he's-awake-er, a 24-hour-a-day-diner.

I'm a mom.

One Month

How quickly time flies when you are a new mom, wouldn't you agree?  (Although I would also contend that time moves very slowly somtimes, when your routine consists of feeding the baby, changing the baby, calming the baby.)

This week Will celebrated his One-Month Birthday!  It was on Tuesday, when he was exactly four weeks and three days old. 

Wide awake and looking out the window the other morning as we lazed around in bed for a bit.

I can't believe our little guy is already a month old, and I confess to crying at the thought that he's going to grow up and not want to cuddle me any more.  I may be jumping the gun, but hey, I blame all of you moms who keep telling me to "enjoy this time while it lasts, because it's going to be over before you know it." 

Anyway, thought you'd all be interested in a few details about the Peanut.

Size: According to the doctor on Monday, Will weighed about 9 lbs, 5 oz, a significant increase from his birth weight of 6 lbs, 14 oz.  While somehow his new weight is still only the 37% percentile, his birth weight was apparently in the 18% percentile.  So he's growing at a very healthy weight. I think he's a big boy, but Husband keeps reminding me that when he was born, he weighed 9+ lbs to start.  Fair enough.  Will's also nearly 22 inches long.  He can still wear most of his newborn clothes, but this week we started to break out some of the 0-3 month outfits. 

With his Tia (aunt) on her birthday - we stopped by her 1st grade class for a quick visit.

Development: In the last week we've seen huge changes (I mean, we see changes every day).  He's holding his head up for long periods of time (you know, several seconds), he's awake more and more, and very alert.  I absolutely adore watching him take the world in, his eyes wide open and blue as he absorbs it all.  He's strong - so strong- and loves grabbing things.  I'd say he's quite amazing, thank you very much.  He's also very vocal, making all sorts of sounds and noises all the time.  We can't wait for the babbling stage - it will be interesting to see what he comes up with!  I'm also very proud of him as he's started to learn to self-soothe and doesn't seem to need to scream or cry as much or as often.  (Granted, he still does that at times.)

Personality: I think he might be a little strong-willed, like his Mama.  But we'll see.  He's content more and more, but he still is pretty fussy about anything he thinks is bothering him.  Normal, I think. 

Eating: We're still eating about every 2 - 3 hours a day and night.  I'm breast-feeding him, which is going well most of the time, although I do worry about whether or not he's getting enough.  But based on his weight gain, he is... so we'll just hope that continues.  He also takes the bottle like a champ.  No nipple-confusion for this boy - he'll switch between breast and bottle and pacifier with no problem at all, and has done so right from the start.  Most days we give him either one pumped bottle or one supplemental formula bottle, so Husband or Sister or someone else can have a turn. 

Sleeping on his Nonna - we liked how it looked like he was hugging her.

Sleep: As I mentioned, he's sleeping less during the day than before, but he's still enjoying quite a few long naps during the day (like right now).  Night time has been going better, in my opinion.  He wakes up between 2 and a half to 3 hours to eat, which for some still sounds frequent, but he goes back to bed right away (usually) with very little effort.  He's sleeping in the pack and play in our room still, but we're doing a good job not picking him up at every little sound, and he's doing a great job self-soothing.

Likes/Dislikes: He loves being held, especially by his Nonna.  He loves his pacifier, being swaddled to sleep at night, and apparently, sound machines or other noises like that.  He's content in his carseat, especially, if we're on a walk, but he only likes the swing or the bouncy seat when he's in the right mood, and only for a little while.  He doesn't seem to care either way about Ginny (who also seems indifferent to him at this point).  He dislikes gas, pooping, me taking too long to get situated to feed him, being put down when he wants to be held, and various other standard baby things.

Milestones: Everything feels like a milestone right now.  No two days are alike, and he's different every day.  I would say he's smiling more often, and it seems completely unrelated to gas.  Don't burst my bubble, people.  I love his little smile.  And he's beginning to "talk" more than just cry.  He does great in public - we've gone out to eat several times (although always only in noisy restaurants) and to school a few times, and he's fantastic.  Next step, maybe a movie this weekend.  We'll see how it goes.

Going on our first walk in the stroller.

Moms, just tell me, how do I capture every sweet moment in my memory?  If each month goes as fast as this first one, I'll be back to work full time before I know it.

12 Hours That Changed My Life: Part 2

If you missed part 1 of the story (or you want to read the whole thing at once), go here first.


Finally. "One or two more like that and I can call the doctor in," encouraged Jessica. Push, push, push. The doctor, a new one I'd never met before, came in. Push, push, push. The same words. "Like that first one. Again." The minutes ticked by. "I can't tell what direction the baby is facing," said the nurse. "His heart rate dropped for a few minutes a while ago, but it went back up." Push more, Beth. Did you hear that? The Peanut needs you.

He was about to come, the doctor said, and she needed to do an episiotomy. Fine, I nodded. We just need to do this. Push, push, push, and there he was. "Oh, that explains it. He's sunny side up." Such a simple statement to explain such a long, stressful experience. The excruciating pain earlier in the morning? Back labor, thank you very much. My furious five hours of pushing? He was face up, of course. "If we'd known that, we might have done something else hours ago." Oh, thank you for telling me.

A flurry of activity. The Peanut wrapped up and on my chest, Husband standing right next to us, a huge, purple bruise covering Peanut's whole forehead. The doctor examining me, the placenta being delivered.

I cried partly because he was here and I was happy, and partly because it was over. At 10:00 am exactly, it was over. And I was so relieved. Pictures of our new family.

Baby and Husband went to the little "baby station" with the nurse while the doctor still worked on me. "Do you know what a tear is?" she asked? "You have about a 3 and half degree one. That means it didn't go all the way from the vagina to the rectum, but close. I'm going to have to stitch you up. Then, "Is she on medication?" to the nurse. "No, she's off right now." "Beth, push that button right next to you. Push it again," said the doctor, telling me to dose myself with a little medication through the epidural. (Educational moment for me - I didn't realize exactly how it worked before then. The catheter was in the epidural area of my spine, but the pump with the meds had been turned off so I could feel to push. The button worked just like you see in the movies.)

I was paying attention to the doctor and the nurse as they worked on me and trying to pay attention to what was going on with Husband and the baby over in the other part of the room. Wincing as she sewed, trying not to cry, asking Husband questions about the baby. "He's 19 inches long, and 6 lbs, 15 oz."

The doctor was showing the nurse a different technique for some certain type of stitch. "I appreciate a teaching and learning environment," I thought. Then my two men were both back at my side as the doctor finished up. "He's just fine," said the pediatric nurse about the baby. "There doesn't appear to be any damage, despite the bruising on his forehead." Relief. Then nausea and light-headedness. "I think I'm going to be pass out or be sick," I told Jessica. "I feel faint." Juice and some trail mix. My color returned a little, and I felt less light-headed.  We hadn't eaten since 5:30 the night before.


Cleaning up, putting things away, and eventually the doctor was gone. Still sipping on juice, holding my baby. Husband's parents and sister came in, along with my sister. I held in the tears. I probably would have bawled had it just been Sister, truthfully. They oohed and ahed over the Peanut, over Will. Sister asked how I was doing. "I'll tell you about it later. It was hard."

They left, Husband going to find something to eat as Jessica helped me try to nurse for the first time. Quiet. Blessed quiet, with this small, tiny baby at my breast. Unbelievable, beautiful.


Eventually Husband took the Peanut to the nursery for some tests, shots, and his first bath. More juice and food for me as I tried to rest. My parents arrived with lunch in hand, my mom's first concern for me and me alone. The Mama Bear in her re-surfaced big time, her first priority to protect and take care of me. Jessica came with the wheel chair to take me to my post-partum room, and Husband followed behind with our baby - our baby!- in the bassinet.


Finally, settled into our room, the room where we'd spend the next couple of days, learning how to feed my son, trying to get some rest, healing, seeing family. Nurses in and nurses out. Tanya, my favorite and most helpful post-partum nurse. Bridget, our overly talkative night nurse who treated me like a celebrity. Comments from everyone I met. "We were here when you were in labor. We kept waiting to hear you were going in for the C-Section. We can't believe how much of that you did without medication. You're such a rock star." It was therapeutic, my "I failed" mentality slowly being replaced with the affirmation that I had not, in fact, failed, and that instead, I had done well.

The Peanut was here, our William John, after a long night of hard work, and after many months of praying. We were tired - no, exhausted -, and we were in awe. Our teeny tiny baby was with us, snuggled in our arms, relying completely on us.

Resposibility, and Joy. Still the two overwhelming emotions, but beautiful, amazing emotions.

Welcome, Peanut, baby Will.

12 Hours That Changed My Life: Part 1

Wednesday night and Thursday night were Parent-Teacher Conferences.  I sat, 38 nearly 39 weeks pregnant, in the gymnasium with all my colleagues, talking with parents about their students and what they could do to either stay strong or to improve during 4th quarter.  Of course, I wasn't going to be there for 4th quarter, but I still gave the advice anyway.  And, of course, there were many conversations about parenting and having babies.  "Are you ready?" they always asked.  "Well, I'd really like a few days of Spring Break, you know, to have a transition between school and mommy-hood."  Heads nodded in understanding. 

Me about a month before Will's arrival.  Turns out I have no pictures of me after this.

Friday was my day off.  The kick off to Spring Break, there was no school since we'd worked the two previous evenings.  I had two items on my agenda - coffee with a friend who was in town, and a trip to the library.  I knew I probably should do some work for my online class, but I was going to give myself a day off from thinking about school.  After my trip to the library, I considered a stop at Target to buy some baby-is-coming-soon essentials, like a nursing bra, but thought, "no, I'll go tomorrow.  I'm worn out from the week, from getting ready to leave school for the rest of the semester, from being huge.  I'm going to go home and read."  So home I went, and I read. 

It was a small group evening, so husband and I headed over to our friends' house and spent the evening there.  We broke into guys and girls groups to hear prayer requests.  Mine, of course, was primarily for a healthy and safe delivery.  We meet every two weeks as a group, and, with my due date a week away, we were all hoping that by the next small group, I'd have the Peanut.  I joked about wondering if I'd even know when I was in labor.  How are you supposed to know what it feels like when you've never done it?  "Oh, you'll know," was always the response.  They prayed for me and for the Peanut right then and there, and then later the guys and the girls were back together for some Bible study.  Later we all headed home, with well wishes for our delivery and a question on how they would know it was time.  "Oh, Husband will text you - if it says "Autobots, Let's Roll," that means it's time."  (Followed by an explanation of the Transformers.)

It was about 10:45, and Husband and I were sitting on our bed as we unwound for the evening, sharing our thoughts about small group, with him rubbing my back.  Suddenly a sensation I'd never experienced before.

"I'm peeing my pants!" I screeched as I leapt off the bed and raced to the bathroom.  "I think maybe my water just broke..." I announced to Husband as I sat on the toilet, trying to figure out if that was what had happened or not.  Certainly I didn't actually pee my pants, right?  Surely I had more control than that?  But it was so weird, and not what I expected, so could it actually be my water breaking?  And I had expected contractions first.  This wasn't labor, was it? I  felt perfectly normal, except for the whole peeing-of-the-pants thing. 

At the mention of the words "water breaking," Husband was up and throwing things into bags right and left.  We'd talked about what we'd take to the hospital, but we hadn't actually packed yet.  "I'm not even sure this it," I protested.  It didn't matter, he thought.  We needed to go to the hospital to check it out, just in case.  So I changed clothes (obviously) and helped pack the bags for the hospital, "just in case." 

Poor confused Ginny went to her room (her crate), and we got in the truck and drove the less-than-ten minutes to the hospital, it now being about 11:30.  Entering through the ER doors due to the late hour, we told the person at the desk we thought I might be in labor and she pointed us in the direction of the elevators.  When you get to the right floor, you have to ring this little doorbell and wait for admission, since the whole maternity floor is secure.  Once we'd gotten buzzed in, I told the nurse at the station the same thing.  "I think my water may have broken, but I'm not really sure."

We stood there for several minutes, starting to fill out paperwork I thought I'd already filled out at our pre-admit session, just to be told that yes, I had filled that out already, so I could stop.  They took us back to the triage session, told me to urinate in the cup and put the gown on, and then we'd take a look and see what was going on.  "Don't text people yet," I told Husband.  "We're not even sure what's happening." 

Once changed and on the table, the nurse, named Cassie, checked me out.  "Yes, you've ruptured.  You're at about 4 cm dilated," she told us.  "We'll get you checked into your birthing room."   I looked at Husband.  "Okay, now you can send the message."  I called my parents, it now being about midnight.  Both my mom and sister answered, groggy with sleep.  "My water broke and we're at the hospital.  Go back to bed, we'll call when something is really happening."  (As if they could go to sleep, Mom later told me.  But they tried.)

We moved over to my birthing room and decided to try to get some rest.  After all, I hadn't even had one contraction yet.  It took a while to get settled, with Cassie getting me hooked up to all the machines and going over what the process would/could look like for me.  Patiently, calmly, she answered all my questions, and then said she'd be back to check on me in a bit, but to call if I needed anything. 

The sign in our birth room.  We got a kick out of the room number and the date nearly matching.

I think we rested (and I use that term lightly) for about half an hour before the contractions hit, and hit in full force.  Forget easing your way into them, I don't apparently roll that way.  Husband was the man, holding my hand, standing beside me, helping me breathe and trying different positions with me.  After a while, though, I started to panic.  I was exhausted.  I had lost the night's sleep, and I become an emotional disaster area on a normal day when I'm over-tired.  So to be in labor and that tired, well I knew I was in trouble, and though a normally calm-in-stressful-situations person, I was in a panic.  We decided to try an IV medication to take the edge off.  I wouldn't normally, I said.  But it was just that I was so tired, justifying why I was breaking my "no meds" rule.

It helped.  I was able to get some good rest... for maybe 45 minutes.  And then the edge was no longer off, despite the fact that the medication should be working.  I was miserable.  We tried everything, all sorts of positions, breathing.  I could still have an epidural, Cassie thought, although she'd have to see how dilated I was.  Torturous, this thought.  My mom and best friend were pretty anti-epidural, and I really wanted to do this without one.  I didn't want to disappoint them, or myself.  Getting an epidural would be like failing. 

But it was excruciating.  "I can't do this," I kept crying to Husband, even as we were "dancing" trying to ease the pain.  I gave in.  I was 8 cm dilated, so it was now or never.   It was unbearable waiting for the anaesthesologist.  Couldn't he hurry up, I kept thinking.  After an eternity, relief.  It was just nearing 4 in the morning.

I slept.  The blissful, comatose sleep of a woman on drugs.  And at 5, Cassie checked and said we were ready.  So the pushing began.  I couldn't feel my contractions, so I relied on her to tell me when to push.  It wasn't working.  He wasn't progressing.  "Let's take a break and let you labor down for a while," Cassie suggested.  We'd called our family to say we were pushing, because my sister and Husand's family wanted to be in the waiting room when Peanut was born.  My sister came in and fixed my pony tail for me and we chatted.  Everything was just fine, although I told her I was afraid to tell Mom I'd had an epidural.  I didn't want her to be disappointed.  Sister understood, although we both knew Mom would never be disappointed over something like that.  It was more me.   Half an hour later.   Time to try again.  They turned off the epidural, because I needed to be able to feel what was going on.

But I couldn't push right, it seemed.  My first attempt would be great - "yes do that again," Cassie would say.  And I would try, but apparently I wasn't getting it.  All sorts of coaching on what to do, where to push, how to push.  Yet it wasn't working.  Failure again.  Perhaps it was because I'd had the epidural that I was having so much trouble, I thought.  I was ashamed of my weakness.

7 am.  Shift change.  We'd thought, when we were ready to push at 5, that we'd make it with the same nurse.  But no.  Cassie said goodbye, and Jessica came in.  Jessica had me try all sorts of different pushing positions.  Husband was still standing right by me, holding me, helping me, being involved.  He was freezing, had had no sleep either, and nothing to eat.   We were just disaster areas.  The same comments.  "Do it that way again."  A sigh that seemed disappointed when my next push wasn't the same.  Absolute failure, I thought.  I told Jessica so.  "I'm a bit type A here, so this feels like I'm totally failing." 

9 am.  Still pushing.  Progress had been made.  They could see his head occasionally.  Apparently he looked like he had no hair... but of course, it could have all just rubbed off by then.  It was the longest hour of my life.  The clock, right in front of me.  Minutes ticked by so slowly.  Had it really only been five minutes?  It felt like an eternity.  Exhausted.  Freezing.  Hot.  Push, push, push.  I can do another.  I have to keep going.  "Don't fall asleep," said Husband between sets.  "I'm not.... okay, I am totally falling asleep."  The longest hour of my life.  Minutes ticked by so slowly, the clock staring me in the face.  9:05.  9:07.  9:11.  What felt like hours between each minute.  And still, "try it like that again.  No, like you did before. I need you to push like you just did."  Failure, failure, failure.  "Maybe it's the epidural," I thought.  "I shouldn't have had it, I knew it.  I did this."


Read the rest of the story here.