Oliver's birth, part VI

The real excitement of Oliver's birth actually took place after.

Like I said, immediately following delivery, there was calm. Nobody was in a hurry. I didn't feel the normal frenzy about how slow my placenta was to deliver; the doctor just took one minute at a time. The pediatric nurse was in no rush to weigh and measure Oliver. It was so nice.

Eventually the placenta delivered, Oliver was evaluated, and they gave me a bolus of pitocin, which is something I've received post-delivery at every birth since Jackson's, when I hemorrhaged fairly significantly. I was checked and declared tear-free, other than a minor abrasion that must be quite miniscule because it hasn't bothered me at all. Whew. That always makes recovery so much better!

Daniel went out to get food for me. I felt badly about the fact that he was going out in the middle of the night on one of the coldest nights I can remember (-24* F), but I guess he probably would have done anything for me right about then. And I am always ravenous after giving birth, so the idea of waiting until morning for food just wasn't going to cut it.

We all ate a little and then Mom and Camilla headed out. The nurse told me they were ready to move me to postpartum whenever I was up for it. I told her I wanted to use the bathroom and then I'd like to get settled for the night. It was probably close to 1am.

Well, using the bathroom got exciting when I passed a clot at least the size of a softball (I honestly wasn't sure at first whether or not there was a second placenta, it was so big). That was weird, but I would just head back to bed, I figured, and be fine. Fortunately, the nurse was right there, because when I stood up and she asked, "Are you okay?" all I could say was, "Yes... um... no... um... no, I'm not okay."

The next thing I knew, I was staring up at the bathroom ceiling, Daniel's voice was behind me, there were about 4 nurses faces all around, and I was getting my first-ever whiffs of smelling salts (awful). At first I wasn't sure where I was. For some reason I thought I was at church?! It took me a minute to remember: oh yeah... I just had a baby... it's a boy... I'm at the hospital... did I faint???

Fainting after passing that much of a blood clot when I'm already so anemic wasn't too shocking, so after a call to the doctor and getting me re-settled, they decided I was okay.

Head down to postpartum. Get settled. Have to use the bathroom again, not thinking it will be a big deal. The nurse walks me in and I'm fine; she steps out and continues settling the room for me. I go to stand and I feel myself getting woozy again. Call for Daniel because I haven't learned the new nurse's name.

Next thing I know, more smelling salts and more nurses crowding around and Daniel holding me.

After that, I was hooked back up to an IV so they could pump me with fluids in an attempt to replace the blood volume I'd lost. I also wasn't allowed to get up to use the bathroom by myself for about 8 hours, but I wasn't about to. Fainting once had been weird. Fainting a second time in such close succession felt a little scary, to be honest!

Fortunately, Oliver was being a dream through the entire thing. And by 10am (about 7 hours after I finally got really settled!), I was feeling much more like my normal self. My hemoglobin levels were down to 6.5 (normal range is 12-15), but I've been down this road before and was fairly confident that as long as I could keep my blood loss to a minimum from that point on, I'd be fine.

Dr. Barrett stopped in and said I was looking much better, but they'd re-draw my blood the next morning. Which is when I must have been feeling very bold, seeing as I'd not exactly had a stellar night, because I said-- somewhat hesitantly-- "I was really hoping to go home today. I mean, I won't go if I'm feeling really weak. But I'd like the option to leave later today if I'm feeling okay."

He tipped his head to the side and said, "Well, you look good now. And you've done this before. I don't see any reason to keep you. We'll just have to get the pediatrician to clear Oliver and then it's fine with me if you leave, as long as you're really feeling okay."

I'm not sure if my mouth was hanging open, but it must have been. I've never had a doctor be so accommodating!

The pediatrician did end up approving an early discharge (which one nurse told us is almost unheard of for this particular doctor) and so, after giving myself more time and lots more fluid, enjoying a visit from Louissa, indulging in a Chipotle burrito, and some paperwork confusion (it wouldn't be a true hospital stay without at least a few delays!), we left Tuesday evening a few hours before Oliver was 24 hours old.

We arrived home to a houseful of beautiful babies all snuggled in their beds, thanks to Aunt Liana's tender care in our absence.

(I have the best sisters. I just do.)

And then this angel slept for 9 hours, with one good feeding half-way through. I woke the next morning in my own bed, surrounded by my children, and feeling blessed beyond measure. This delivery did not start the way I had planned, but God had showed Himself faithful to me.

Again.

I told a friend a few days earlier that as much as I have struggled with wondering "why?"
at times (why Aubrey's heart? why the c-section? why no easy VBACs where I live? why going post-dates and needing an induction?), mostly I know that God has always provided what I need at the time I need it: small things, big things, things that I struggle to trust Him for, and many things that I take for granted, if I'm truly honest. May I let Him use my life to testify of His tender care in all things!

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good;
Blessed is the man who trusts in Him!

 Oh, fear the Lord, you His saints!
There is no want to those who fear Him.

The young lions lack and suffer hunger;
But those who seek the Lord shall not lack any good thing.

Oliver's birth, part IV

This labor was different from the others in that while I did work through it mentally some by thinking of the moments ahead-- moments holding my baby, meeting this new little person who would change my life (and already had!) forever-- the thing that really kept me going was offering it all, the literal physical sorrow of it all, to the Lord as worship.

One song I had put on a playlist specifically for the labor kept running through my mind every time I thought I couldn't keep going:

This is not religion, as some would suppose.
But this is a love song, with every fiber of my being I compose.

I love my babies. I love the scent of a newborn, the discovery of infancy, the adventures of toddler years, the milestones of childhood.

But this time?

This time, more than any other, this was for Jesus.

I thought of the woman with the alabaster flask, pouring out the most valuable thing she had on Jesus' feet.

Just because she loved Him.

My body, being broken again, to bring forth a new life, for Him.

Because I love Him.

And He received it. And He carried me.

Oliver's birth, part III

In the final week or two leading up to Oliver's birth, I had to do quite a bit of spiritual warfare. Especially when the evening hours struck, the kids were in bed, Daniel was out at meetings, and the hustle and bustle of the day was over, I would just have these random thoughts pop into my head that I knew weren't from God:

"Your body's too worn out to do this again."

"I bet your scar doesn't hold up this time."

"You've driven to Watertown how many times in the past few months and you'll probably end up with a c-section anyway."

"How many more times do you think you can do this anyway?"

I've not had those thoughts before at any time during any pregnancy. It was strange that they were coming at the tail end of such a great pregnancy and after two successful VBACs.

Now, at about 10:45pm on December 16th, as I was in the throes of labor, they were flooding me. Hard. I think the mental and spiritual battle was harder than the physical one.

I got up to use the bathroom. One agonizing contraction on the way there. One while there. And then when I went to return to the bed, another one.

I couldn't even stand through it. I was on my hands and knees in the bathroom.

And I was thinking, "I'm 6cm and in this condition? I'm never gonna make it!"

I barely made it next to the hospital bed before another contraction hit. I flopped onto all fours again, desperate to get into a position that helped me stay ahead of the waves of pain. My IV popped open and blood was spurting everywhere. I was tangled in cords. I'm sure I was a sight to behold.

I remember wailing, "Camilla's never going to want to have a baby after seeing this!"

The nurse got the IV mess cleaned up. I was helped into the bed. I laid back for a bit, though I generally don't like to labor in that position. I was pretty worn out. The belts and cords and blood pressure cuff were really starting to bug me.

Dr. Barrett told me after the delivery that he would love to hear my thoughts about an induced labor versus a natural one sometime. I've thought about that since then.

I wouldn't say that pitocin necessarily hurts more, but the hard part of it seemed to be the unyielding nature of the contractions it produced. From 7pm until Oliver's birth, contractions were 2-3 minutes part without fail. No natural pauses. No peeks and no valleys. Just wave after relentless wave.

In hindsight, maybe I should have asked to be taken off the pitocin since my body had obviously taken over.

But then again, perhaps the pitocin was in part the reason I was already (and unknown to me) on the verge of meeting my new baby!

Oliver's birth, part II

Driving down was rather surreal. I wasn't in labor, but I knew I would be. Today.

It was bright and clear and very, very cold. Single digit temperatures. The freshly fallen snow from the weekend storm was breathtakingly beautiful. Everything looked pristine and sparkly.

As we neared the hospital, I told Daniel I felt like I was being led to the slaughterhouse. Which was perhaps a bit on the dramatic side, but, well, labor does feel a bit like dying, in my experience.

The next hour or two after arriving were rather anti-climactic.

"I'm here to have a baby."

It sounds like ordering a cheeseburger, but, boy, are the implications huge!

Paperwork. Getting settled. Doctor checking in to make a plan. Recommending that I get started with pitocin because he wanted to see my contractions (which I was having-- but that's nothing out of the ordinary for the last several weeks of pregnancy for me) get into a regular pattern before rupturing my membranes. I wondered if I should just skip the pitocin part (I later received a message from a nurse-friend recommending I just go ahead with the rupturing-- oops), but I appreciated his interest in not getting me on the clock too soon, so I agreed.

My mom and sister Camilla joined us, which I was so thankful for. They were ready to stick it out with me, and that was such a comfort.

From about noon until 6:30pm they kept increasing the pitocin every half an hour. The contractions were patterning and at one point started to ache a bit, but overall it just felt like bad menstrual cramps. As the day wore on, I found myself thinking I should just have them rupture my membranes so we could get things over with. I knew they weren't about to let me go home since Baby had officially reached his/her "expiration date" and I didn't relish the thought of laboring through the night.

The nurse I had was warm and friendly and was such a great sport about all the things I was declining in advance for the baby. So far, that aspect of this delivery was my best hospital experience yet.

It was relaxed in the room. I knew that what I was feeling wasn't it, and I wasn't about to get myself antsy pretending or hoping it was. Daniel played some Brian Regan and we listened to part of an online sermon. I closed my eyes. Daniel ran out and got food for himself, Mom, and Camilla; I was on a clear liquid diet from the moment I arrived, but I didn't care since I usually lose my appetite just thinking about impending labor.

A little before 7pm, the doctor came in and checked me. I hadn't made much progress (maybe 1cm more dilated than when I came in?), but I was certainly having regular contractions. I didn't have to ask; he decided to rupture my membranes and see how things might go from there.

Almost immediately, the contractions changed. Now I was in labor. Bit by bit, the contractions increased in intensity. There was no turning back now.

Of course, the downside in all of this was that I was hooked up to pitocin. That wouldn't have been so bad except that the use of pitocin in a VBAC scenario generally means continual monitoring, and the portable monitors at the hospital weren't really working according to the nurse.

Despite being chained to the monitor, I changed positions fairly frequently as things picked up. The new nurse (who had taken over at 7pm) was wonderful. She brought in a birth ball, which I sat on for a short time. I knelt on the upright hospital bed and rested my arms on the top, which seemed to be particularly effective. The rocking chair was brought over so I could sit there for a while. And thanks to the steady drip of the IV fluids, I was forced to make the increasingly difficult trek to the bathroom on a regular basis!

A couple hours after having my membranes ruptured, the contractions were really starting to take it out of me. The combination of labor progressing and the relentless nature of pitocin-induced contractions was hard.

Daniel played music for me. I sang some favorite hymns and choruses during contractions, and Mom, Camilla, and Daniel would sing where I left off when the contraction was too much for me to keep singing through. The nurse commented a few times on how much she liked the songs, and then when Dr. Barrett came in at around 10:30pm he told me I had a good voice. That was rather comical to me since I knew it couldn't possibly sound good by then, and I later told Daniel that I thought it was doctor speak for, "I'm really glad you're singing instead of screaming."

At about 10:45pm, after watching me through a few contractions, Dr. Barrett decided to check me. I could tell he was hesitant. He doesn't like to do any/many checks once the membranes have been ruptured (good for him), but ultimately decided to see where things were at.

6cm dilated, 100% effaced, baby at -1.

I was heartbroken. The contractions were really quite intense and that was it?

I should mention that heading into this labor I was as anxious about keeping it together mentally and emotionally as I've ever been. I'd had a great deal of fear and apprehension that I just wouldn't be able to do it one more time. I had prayed and I had asked for prayer, and I knew people were cheering for me, but that was the moment when those fears washed over me and the human frailty in me was convinced they were all being justified right before my eyes.

I told Daniel I needed an epidural, something I've never wanted and something I've never actually asked for before. I just didn't know how I could keep going.

Everyone reminded me, "You don't want that, Brietta. You've told us you don't want that."

"But I do!" I cried. "I can't keep doing this for hours!"

Dr. Barrett smiled warmly at me. "Labor usually goes very fast from this point."

Easy for him to say, I thought. It took me 5 hours to go from 6cm to 10cm with Elliot.

Daniel reminded me of how no two births are alike. I should know, since as slowly as things had progressed with Elliot, they had flown by with Claire, but I also didn't want to set myself up for disappointment.

All I could think was that it had been less than 4 hours of active labor and I was already feeling done in.

"Jesus, help me!"

I prayed so much. I prayed out loud perhaps more this labor than any other. The negative confessions were overtaking me and I couldn't think of any way to combat them other than praying and singing. And I knew that if I was going to make it, it wouldn't be because of any strength of my own.

Oliver's birth, part I

Here comes the obligatory birth story.

(Obligatory because I need to record it for my own memory's sake; not necessarily because anyone else is in need of it!)

Feel free to stop reading now if you don't particularly care for birth stories.

That's my disclaimer!

----------------

For those of you who were following the pregnancy, you already know that my due date was December 3rd. I had told my midwife that I always go beyond the due date, so neither of us was surprised to see one another at my 40-week appointment. Whether or not we would see each other the following week was less certain; Gabriel, Jackson, and Elliot were all born at 40 weeks, 3 days while Bronwyn and Claire were born 17 and 14 days late respectively.

/Insert rant/ I hate that we call anything before 42 weeks "late," since it was well-known and understood for centuries that an estimated due date was simply that: an estimate! It pretty much infuriates me that we're all okay with babies coming at 37, 38, or 39 weeks, but heaven forbid we give them any latitude on the other side! /End rant/

Sure enough, I saw her on December 10th. She said my numbers all looked good and sent me home without even asking me to go in for a non-stress test, but she did set up an induction for the following week, handing me the order with the words, "I'm sure we won't need it."

I was sure, too. I've never needed to be induced before, although I'd cut it awfully close. I figured we might cut it close yet again, but surely this baby would come.

Day after day passed that week and I kept praying that the baby would come, and I felt naively certain he/she would.

Sunday night as I laid in bed, with the knowledge that I was on the schedule at the hospital for the next morning-- assuming their beds didn't all fill with other women-- I prayed, "Lord, please let labor start naturally."

The next morning I woke, very much pregnant. I had a bad headache from a restless night. I called the hospital a little after 7am to see what time they wanted me. The nurse manager was busy with a report, so I was told I'd get a call back. I was still holding hope in the back of my mind that they wouldn't have room and we would have more time.

I got in the shower, just in case I needed to be ready. Daniel knocked on the door minutes later and called in, "Whenever you're ready, they want us to head down."

My stomach kind of lurched.

I stood in the shower and I cried. Real tears.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. I'm a firm believer in natural birth. I don't get anxious when babies are "late," and I don't mind letting things run their course. I feared that an induction would send me down a path toward the repeat c-section that I so much wanted to avoid. Even the bad headache I was dealing with seemed to indicate doom.

I knew I could refuse to come.

I knew that would burn my bridge with a medical practice that had been very good to me.

I also knew that I was probably a ripe candidate for induction, being 42 weeks pregnant and all.

And I knew just from our conversation earlier that morning that Daniel felt a peace about the plan and he felt uncomfortable about waiting too much longer with the increasing risks of low amniotic fluid (something I tend to deal with anyway) and an aging placenta, and I knew that following his leadership in the past has always resulted in the protection, prosperity, and blessing I've needed.

I remember praying for grace and strength, two things I knew I needed and I knew I just didn't have. It probably seems presumptuous to even make the comparison, but I remember thinking about Mary. Young, first-time-mom, Mary. For the first time, I think I felt a little of what her heart may have felt as they were told there was no room in any inn for them.

This isn't the way it's supposed to be.

But God had a plan. And I felt myself strengthened in the knowledge that His plans for me are good.

I finished my shower, I sent a text to friends and sisters to let them know what was happening and to ask them to pray, and I finished packing my bags.

We left Madrid at around 9:00am.

Welcome, dear one

Introducing

Oliver Richard Paladin

"Peace; dominant ruler"

Of the increase of His government and peace,

There will be no end.

Isaiah 9:7

Born at 11:36pm on 12/16/2013

9lbs 12oz, 22 inch

Welcome to our world, our home, our hearts!

these days...

... we are about 1/4th of the way through our school year. To be perfectly honest, so far it's been a smashing success and dismal failure all rolled into one. The success part is seeing how much the kids grow and learn and explore despite my own inability to stay as far ahead of them as I'd like to stay. The failure part is me losing my cool with the interruptions from Claire and Elliot and all the times I start to panic that because we're not covering what I planned, it somehow isn't enough.

I'll get it someday.

I hope.


... the gardens are all cut down, the lawn is mowed for the final time, and I have one more dinner planned using the grill before we bring it inside for the winter. The temperatures are fluctuating enough to remind me that fall is quickly coming to an end, and the early darkness that wraps itself around us each evening only confirms what the weather is trying to help me comprehend.

Thanks to Bronwyn's urging, we pulled out the final Thanksgiving decor the other day. It was worth the 30-minute delay to our school morning.

Pinterest-inspired chalkboard art, dried lantern flowers, a banner made with my friend and neighbor Nancy 6 years ago, favorite figurines, candles and candles and candles,.

... Daniel is generously letting me catch as much as sleep here and there as can be managed. Most nights find me tossing and turning from about 2-4am, and often I just get up and do something productive during those hours because sleep is so evasive, despite my constant exhaustion.

Hormones.

And so the man gets up every morning he is around to do the 5:30-6:30am shift with Elliot (and an occasional Claire and/or Aubrey) and to let me sleep that extra bit. I come downstairs as the sun is already starting to break through the night sky-- the smell of coffee and the sound of forced air enveloping me-- hug a freshly changed and fed Elliot, and all I can think is: how did I get so lucky?

It seriously brings tears of gratitude to my eyes.

Can I just say that there is nothing about this parenting/motherhood thing that I am doing alone? Daniel is in it every step of the way with me, bearing the burden and easing my load in every way he possibly can. He is the definition of sacrificial leadership.

The definition, I tell you.


... I am realizing what a tablecloth kinda girl I am. If such a kinda girl exists.

I know they're not practical, what with 6 kids who regularly spill food and drink on them. I've tried to convince myself to go without.

But they're pretty. And they're special. And it's not like I can't turn around and get them cleaned within 24 hours of a meal. I do laundry pretty much around the clock.

Tonight, even without Daniel here, I spread out a table before we set the table for dinner and I smiled a happy little smile. It warms my heart. It's often the little things that do, you know.


... the nearness of meeting our newest little one is dawning. December felt so far off that's it really just now occurring to me that even in light of how laid back I tend to be when it comes to baby preparations, there are some things that need to be figured out and settled beforehand.

(I haven't even thought yet to ask the midwife how many people I'm allowed to have at the delivery, for example.)

With a family wedding and Thanksgiving between now and then, the end of November doesn't look like it will afford much time for settling, so today I began with the simplest, at-home stuff.

I hoisted my too-large self up the trap-door attic ladder and crawled around a too-small crawl space, retrieving the bassinet and bouncy seat. I pulled out the infant clothing and blankets and got them washed. Gabriel helped me move a dresser from the guest room/Elliot's room to my bedroom so that I could fill it with said clothes and blankets. I ordered some diapers and started looking online at infant car seats to replace our expired one.

 A whole lot of white and a little pink and a little blue so that we're ready for whoever this baby is!

 

... I'm thinking more and more about my baby sister's upcoming wedding. I had my hair colored and trimmed yesterday and today I assessed the clothing situation for the 8 people I am responsible for making sure look decent on the special day. It's a little over 2 short weeks away.

Unbelievable!

She was just a little girl yesterday, you know.


... we've been talking as a family about idolatry. Anyone/thing I look to as savior besides Jesus. We have been evaluating, taking hard looks at our hearts, asking the Lord to make us wholly and completely His, reminding ourselves that He is the only way.

Not that event. Not that food. Not that possession. Not that relationship. Not that feeling. Not that argument. Not that reputation.

Nothing but Jesus.

And we've been talking about what a gift repentance is. Oh! it seems hard in the moment. Sometimes harder than others.

But it sets us free.

Those words that shouldn't have been spoken.; that attitude that soured the moment; the selfish pursuits, the unkindness, the ugly ulterior motives, the idolatry that caused us to run to someone or something else when we felt trapped or hopeless or despairing or in need of renewal; these things that so easily beset and bind us up: we bring them into the light, we call them what they are, we ask for forgiveness-- His and others-- and we are set free.

Bit by bit, moment by moment, He sets us free. Free to choose Him.

And He never, ever, ever fails or disappoints. He is better. Always better.

the babe update

We are full-fledged pregnant these days.

Not that I wasn't before, but it took a while this time around for the symptoms of pregnancy to really kick in. At this point, I am enjoying all the side effects (or "collateral damage," as I am more prone calling them) pretty much daily: insomnia, pelvic aches, indigestion/heartburn, trouble reaching my toes, dizzy spells, etc. While it continues to humble me that this is all the more I have to contribute to the amazing process that's taking within, there is the increasing awareness that I am making contributions to what's happening.

31 weeks and grow-ing!

At my 24-week appointment, I measured 4cm shy of where I was "supposed" to be. At my 30-week appointment, I was only 1cm shy. We are taking a lot of ground in the past 2 months, as evidenced not only by the measurements that are rapidly catching up, but also by the numbers on the scale, my increasing sense of "big," and the never-ending hunger/cravings I seem to have.

Between hunger and heartburn, food manages to be both my best friend and worst enemy.

My iron levels are low again. My hemoglobin dropped from 11.7 to 9.4 in a short seven weeks and my hematocrit is down to 28% (for reference, "normal" is 12-15 and 38-46%). I'm trying so hard this time around, yet anemia seems to simply be part and parcel for me when pregnant. It's discouraging when my efforts have been so heightened. I'd be lying to say I don't mind the weakness, dizziness, and heart palpitations that accompany anemia (I actually hate it all), and perhaps what's even harder than the physical affects are the emotional ramifications of this increasing exhaustion/weakness. Particularly in the past two weeks, I find myself easily overwhelmed, overly sensitive, and quickly done in. Frequently of late the Lord has had to remind me that there are always seasons in life when I "run out," but that He doesn't.

Good reminders, I tell you.

And I'm trying to keep perspective: this is worth it.

SO worth it!

Before we know it, we will meet this little person. A season of 12-ish weeks of being abnormally tired and weary is altogether short in the grand scheme of things. The joy of a new life, a new destiny, will overwhelm any memories of the small price I had to pay.

Don’t you see that children are God’s best gift?

the fruit of the womb his generous legacy?

Psalm 127:3

time flies

Without a doubt, we are surely halfway through the month of August. As seems to be ever-increasingly the case, I feel at a total loss as to where the time went.

But, no, it's not that I don't know where it went; it's that I cannot fathom how quickly (and usually without my permission!) even the "down time" in my life fills to the brim with the activity and busyness of a healthy and growing family.

I don't want to complain. I am so thankful for every bit of life that occupies my days. What a precious season this is, my children growing by leaps and bounds and me getting to be part of it all.

I do wish that I was better as stopping along the way, at knowing how to catch my breath, at being able to formulate a thought, at getting one step ahead (or even just half a step). Still, I am learning to be thankful in the midst, to not feel like my world is spiraling out of control simply because I don't have the time to process that I would like to have or was once accustomed to. As our family grows, so the Lord is gracious to stretch me and expand my heart and mind through the most simple and profound of lessons.

So far August has looked like:

A handful of days with the Sinclair family, staycationing half a mile down the road at my parents' house. Little girls rooming in with their much-adored aunties, whiffle ball and kickball and baseball, board games and books, a kitchen continually overflowing with bodies, laughter and prayer and early morning coffee, sleeplessness and not minding it one bit because of what it means we had throughout the day.

Returning home and gearing my mind a bit toward the new school year. Labor Day-- and the official start date of our 2013-2014 school year-- looms ever larger. I made my final plans, assembled lists, researched prices, and finally ordered the missing curriculum and supplies. I love homeschooling and therefore can't help but be excited for a new year, but I confess to dragging my feet even more slowly than usual about tying any final bows on summer. It's been a lovely few months.

Celebrating Bronwyn's ninth birthday. I will write more about this dear girl another time, but suffice it to say that I have decided I'm thankful that her birthday always falls in the throes of summer fun because it definitely helps alleviate the bittersweetness of the passing of another year.

Taking a Saturday to deep-clean the house with the kids, and feeling yet again amazed at how much we accomplish and in how short a time as more and more of them are able to actually help!

My husband officiating a wedding with a tenderness and fathering that belies his age and gives great credit to his Heavenly Father. Watching what the Lord does with his life never gets old for me.

Out-of-town guests.

Summer bounty and savoring every meal that required zero menu planning on my part.

Lots of meandering walks and not enough mowing and weeding.

Fevers for three of my six little charges.

The ever-noticeable presence of a new baby on the way.

Filling in calendar dates and thanking Jesus for the opportunities and ability He gives to serve Him.

Thinking about expectations, mostly my own, and how often they don't line up with His calling.

Praying lots, especially in moments of weakness: that I will hear His voice, that my children will be captured by who He is, that we will live our lives with increasing intentionality, that He will strengthen His Church, that we will always have joy in the offering, that He will teach me to number my days and live wisely.

warning: a rambling pregnancy update

So we're over halfway through this pregnancy now. If it's flying by for you, it's flying by even faster for me. I've confessed that I can hardly believe it's July already, so this revelation probably doesn't come as any surprise.

But seriously, was it already 4 months ago now that I was finally putting 2 and 2 together to realize that the not-going-away-nausea and exhaustion wasn't actually the stomach bug my children had had?

Guess so.

20 weeks already?!
(and, by the way, I swear my belly doubled in size yesterday, but I haven't taken a photo since then.)

By way of testimony and gratitude, I have to say that a large part of this pregnancy's Flying By nature has been that I have felt so good.

Really good.

And I am thankful beyond what words can say. I have had energy, I have had little sickness, I have had few days that have been a total wash, I have honestly enjoyed almost every minute. Each pregnancy prior to this one had gotten progressively harder on me and I think I was starting to think that it was just the way things would be. These past months have been such a gift to me, not just physically, but also emotionally.

Ultimately, I think it's just been God's mercy on me. But some things that I'm sure have helped:

Summer/exercise. By the end of the winter, I'm pale and listless and cooped-up-feeling and trying to remember when I last ate a good tomato. Maybe it's just me, but I think a lot of us fall in the camp of Feeling Better In The Summer. The fresh air and longer sunlight, the ease of and natural tendency toward staying active, the outdoor projects and fun, the accessibility and availability of organic and local produce-- I know these always make a difference in my general sense of well-being. The impact is simply that much more noticeable when my body is busy growing another human being.

Also, for the first time since before becoming a mom, I have been able to get out of the house almost daily to run and/or walk, whereas it used to get squeezed in whenever Daniel's unpredictable schedule would allow. There are advantages to my kids getting older and a smidgen more independent, and wow! what a very practical difference this has made in how I'm feeling.

My runs have morphed into walk-runs (I've always tried to take an interval approach to my running, so this is just more exaggerated)-- and this past week when I was out at noon and the sun was beating mercilessly down on me and the humidity levels were 70-100%, I strictly walked-- but it has all helped so much. During my first trimester, there were a lot of days that started yucky, but I knew that if I could just hang in there until my run, I would feel better. I'm not saying this would have worked in other pregnancies (and certainly not for all expectant mamas!), but it was a clear pattern this time around.

I'm hoping that I'll be able to keep it up right until the end. January and February are the toughest months for exercising outside (thanks to ice on the roads), but I'm due on December 3rd, so I should be okay. I'm sure my pace will continue to slow down as I get bigger (!), but my goal is to stay as limber and energetic as possible.

Food. For some miraculous reason, my cravings this time around have been much more on the health-food end of the spectrum. You think I kid when I say "miraculous," but if you knew the things I always crave when I'm pregnant (french fries, greasy burgers, sour patch kids, chinese buffet, etc.), you'd realize that I mean what I say. Previously, pregnancy has been 9 long months of eating what I know to eat when it isn't at all what I want to eat. Maybe it's the perfect timing of spring's arrival and all the bountiful healthy goodness available, but it has just been so much better this time around. I can't tell you how thankful I am to not be constantly battling myself on this issue.

Of course, there have been bowls of ice cream here and there and peach cobbler almost every Tuesday (yes, this pregnancy seems to also have delivered me from my many years of abstaining from peaches after one summer as a child when my mom ordered a scarring number of bushels of peaches!), but there's been a lot of wanting veggies and hummus, big bowls of fresh fruit, fresh-from-a-local-chicken-coop eggs, and more. I'm thankful, to say the least.

 

Iron. I tried my best to get a jump on my perpetual tendency toward anemia by firstly supplementing iron for quite a few months after Elliot's birth, and then by getting right into a vitamin and iron regimen about as soon as I knew I was pregnant. Some ladies might have the luxury of waiting to see how their iron levels are, but having been 6 for 6 with really bad anemia (my hemoglobin is usually between 8 and 9 when I go into labor), I didn't even bother with the Wait And See approach.

For the past 16 weeks I have been as faithfully as possible drinking floradix with breakfast and dinner and taking vitamins with lunch. My hemoglobin at 19 weeks gestation was a little over 11, so it does seem to be helping. I need to up it and keep at it if I'm going to have healthy levels by 40 weeks, but at least so far I haven't had the major energy slumps and general fatigue/weakness that I by now associate with pregnancy.

In pregnancy news: I had my first appointment with a midwife in Watertown who seems very excited and eager to help me VBAC once again. It's a shame to me that I have to drive 70 miles to find someone who agrees that a VBAC is not only safer in my situation but that it carries almost no more risks for me than it does for someone who has never had a cesarean, but at least she was there to be found. She is in a practice with 3 OBs who also do many VBACs every year. One of these OBs in particular came highly recommended from a local midwife (who only does non-VBAC homebirths) as a doctor who is very accommodating and naturally-minded, so that's encouraging.

The midwife felt that I was measuring small so she sent me for an ultrasound, thinking that we might be able to push the due date back and have that much more flexibility in terms of delivery dates at the end. I did try to tell her that I always measure small-- even at 42 weeks and just days before popping out my 10lb daughter I only measured 37cm-- but in my experience, every practitioner I've gone to has needed to see that for themselves. Sure enough, it was my most accurate-to-dates ultrasound I've ever had, with results perfectly confirming my December 3 due date.

It was a really amazing ultrasound, though. I got to see the baby waving, swallowing, moving his jaw up and down, flipping (lengthwise), and more. The miracle of life never gets old. This is a baby, a person, a soul. What a privilege to carry and cradle him within me, safely tucked away and nurtured by my very own life. When I think about every organ being formed, every finger and toe nail growing, every detail being put together, it amazes me that I don't have to contribute more to the process.

I am the lucky one.

Lest you get confused, I use "his" and "him" in the most generic of ways. We won't, once again, find out what we're having beforehand. Of course it's always tempting to know (what's better than finding out good news? well, finding out good news sooner, of course!), but I just can't give up the moment of climax when the baby is born and we really meet him/her for the first time. The eagerness to discover just who this baby is always helps me in those moments of labor transition when I'm pretty sure I could care less about anything other than being done or dying.

So we will be doing our best to come up with at least two baby name options. This gets harder and harder each time around, I have to say. It is such a privilege and ultimately joyous task, but it always feels very serious to me, too! Our baby's naming is up to us?

Coincidentally, every time I've given birth we've only had one name we really like and we've been fortunate enough to have the baby be the appropriate gender for the name. That said, I don't like to bank on that pattern continuing, so I really am doing my best to come up with a name for both boy and girl.

So far, I've got one girl name. Daniel doesn't like it.

Wish me luck.

 

Elliot's arrival, part 3

[part 1 and part 2]

The regional perinatal center has (I believe) 4 doctors and 2 midwives on staff. As it turned out, this was one of their weekends when none of their regular practitioners were on call. Dr. Lenny knew the woman who was going to be covering for them and told us that she was really nice. That said, it was a bit of a disappointment.

Until Dr. Lenny was there at the hospital with one of his patients who had come in (as it turned out, she went home without delivering) and my covering physician agreed to let him do the delivery if we wanted. So our choice was to go with someone I'd never met or opt for someone who knew me and my preferences/philosophy well. It was a no-brainer, if he really was up for it, and he said he was.

Another check at about 11:15am after paperwork and a 20-minute strip on the baby: I was 7cm and 90%. Baby was still high.

Thankfully, Dr. Lenny was insisting on giving me intermittent monitoring (much to some of the residents' chagrin) and so I got to get up and walk, hoping that would help get the baby where he/she needed to be. Contractions were intensifying and I was continuing to gush fluid. And that was around the time when we realized that the fluid was stained with meconium. It ended up being nothing to worry about (as is often the case, I guess), but it was something to be aware of.

I have to say that from around noon until 3:30 or so, everything is kind of hazy. Things felt timeless in many ways, and not just because the military time on the digital clock in the room was throwing me off (though it was!). The contractions were intense and frequent. Every time I would get a "break," I'd realize afterwards that it was only that those two contractions happened to be 5 minutes apart instead of the 2 or 2-1/2 minutes apart that they mostly were. Despite the frequency of the contractions, I was progressing slowly, slowly, slowly from 7 to 8 to 9 and finally to 10 centimeters. And slowly, slowly, slowly, the baby was moving down.

If you've ever been in labor, you know that "slowly" is not what you want at that point in the game.

This was the first time I've ever seriously feared whether or not I had the physical stamina to finish. I do wonder if my severely anemic condition going into delivery contributed to that. In the past, I've reached points where I've not wanted to finish, but I'd never before so strongly doubted myself and whether or not I could. I am so thankful for Daniel, Mom, Camilla, Carina, Louissa, and Liana all telling me over and over again that I could. I needed their encouragement so much-- and how good God was to arrange things so that they were all there giving me just that.

Finally I got the urge to push and the clearance to do so. Again, I was gripped by fear that I physically couldn't. I felt so, so, so tired. Again, I was surrounded (literally) by the best group of cheerleaders a laboring woman could ever find. Seriously.

I pushed perhaps the longest this time out of all my deliveries, but it was still probably only 4 or 5 contractions or so worth of pushing. And there was rest between the contractions-- rest I desperately needed and was so thankful for.

At 4:03pm, he arrived. He cried immediately, a healthy, strong cry. I cried. They put him on me right away. I was amazed by how big he felt (though not surprised)! I was so glad to be done.

And for the first time ever, the placenta delivered with absolutely no effort on my part. I was physically wiped out, so that was an incredible blessing.

Not a single tear. No bruising. My hemoglobin was 8 on Wednesday; yesterday, 12 hours after the delivery, it had only dropped to 7. I lost very little blood. I feel amazing. Traveling home yesterday wasn't a bit uncomfortable and although I feel tired today, it's more of an I-haven't-slept-enough-in-the-past-two-days tired than anything else.

Elliot Hale
"My God is the Lord; hero"
9lbs, 8oz; 21"

We are blessed!

Pics to come...

 

Elliot's arrival, part 2

[Continued from part 1]

After I called Daniel, I laid back down. It had already been a poor night's sleep and I knew I needed as much rest as I could get. The contractions continued, but I wasn't paying much attention to the frequency, instead just letting myself drift in and out of sleep as much as possible. Daniel told me to call and give updates, which I did at about 4:15am. He asked if I should call Louissa, who was going to be joining us, since she could get to me faster than him. I told him yes.

I'm not certain about times, but I think Louissa and Josiah arrived at 6am or so. Then Daniel, Mom, and Camilla at 6:30am. This was also when the Marottas were alerted to what was going on; I hadn't wanted to disturb anyone any sooner since this was a doctor's home and sleep a precious commodity!

Jayne, of course, started making a big breakfast for the arrivals. I took a shower, continuing to contract all the while. It was a pleasant, calm, happy environment-- the exact opposite of a hospital, in my opinion! I had worship music playing in the guest apartment bedroom, which was where I spent most of that morning laboring, either sitting on the floor in a butterfly position with my back against the warm radiator (which helped with the lower back pain) or kneeling at the bed so I could sway and try to help get the baby in a better position.

At around 8am Dr. Lenny, who had run up to his office to grab a Doppler and a few medical supplies, offered to check me and see how things were progressing. I was 5cm and about 80% effaced, and Baby sounded "happy". With Claire, I went from that point to delivery in about 2 hours, but with Jackson it had taken much longer-- and since this baby's position was still less than ideal and much like Jackson's, I tried to mentally prepare for a scenario more like that.

I continued to labor. Louissa timed contractions and kept me company for a while so Daniel could eat.

I was loving the way things were unfolding. I couldn't have a home birth because of my previous c-section with Aubrey, but this had much the same sense of ease. I was surrounded by people I love and trust. I had an OB-GYN helping me track things so that we could hopefully best time the arrival at the hospital. I was in a comfortable bedroom where I felt completely calm. Things really were working out so much better than I had ever envisioned, and it was only the beginning.

At 9:30am Dr. Lenny checked me again. 6cm and 90%. Baby was still high, though, and my cervix rather posterior. Contractions weren't long (averaging around 50 seconds), but they were gradually increasing in frequency (down to about 4 minutes apart) and were obviously doing work, which is always encouraging to a laboring mama! Josiah took over timing contractions (what a good sport!) and I opted to continue hanging out right where I was. Dr. Lenny didn't want me to wait too, too long (and get him in trouble over at the hospital!), but it seemed like there was a slow, steady pace and I felt like I wanted at least another hour.

10:20am, after a good, strong contraction, I sat back from my kneeling position at the bed and suddenly there was a gush as my water broke. Everybody sprang into action at that point since the only other time my membranes had ruptured spontaneously (and not been ruptured by my midwife or doc just before pushing) was with Claire and she had arrived probably less than 30 minutes later. Josiah drove Daniel and I to the hospital with Mom, Louissa, and Camilla following behind.

They got me into a room pretty quickly and rushed me through admission paperwork.

The thing is, we had quite a bit of time left. I was about the prove-- like I had with Jackson!-- that transition can last many, many hours.

To be continued...

 

Elliot's arrival, part 1

Elliot Hale was born on Saturday, March 31st, at 4:03pm.

But his birth story begins several days beforehand, really.

It was Tuesday, the 27th. I had an appointment in Syracuse at the regional perinatal center. The next day was my due date. When Daniel and I left home that morning to make the 2-1/2 hour trek down, we brought overnight bags, the infant car seat, etc. in case they told us they didn't want us going home-- though I must say that in light of my history of going late, I was hoping they wouldn't.

At the appointment, I wasn't much progressed from the week before (2cm, somewhat effaced, baby still "floating") so they said, "Go home!"

Yay!

We stopped in Watertown (about the halfway point) to get something to eat since it was mid-afternoon and we hadn't had anything since breakfast. Hopped back in the car. 30 minutes later, I'd had about 6 good contractions. Daniel decided we should turn around, do some "shopping" in Watertown, and see what happened-- it would be easier to go back to Syracuse from there than to come all the way home only to head back down. We picked up some odds and ends at Target and browsed the entire store. I continued to have contractions, but they weren't intensifying and they were slowing down, so we decided to head home.

The contractions continued, but weren't hurting.

When we arrived home, my sister had put the kids to bed and I followed suit (those day trips to Syracuse were tiring!). I dozed on and off between contractions, but at 11pm when they had continued consistently at 5-6 minute intervals, Daniel (who had been timing them for about an hour at that point) said he thought we should go. Neither of us were interested in a roadside delivery, but we were very torn just the same because we also didn't want any false alarms.

Well, we got our false alarm, but it ended up being all for the best, really.

It was about 3am on Wednesday (due date) when we finally arrived at the hospital. I was still contracting regularly, but I had only progressed [maybe] a centimeter from earlier that day.

And then, the contractions gradually stopped. The baby's head was slightly turned and not putting quite the right amount of good pressure on my cervix, which was eerily reminiscent of my labor with Jackson (his started on a Wednesday night and ended on a Sunday afternoon with his delivery).

[What I didn't know then was just how similar the two births would be.]

At around 11am they started me on pitocin to see if that would get the contractions back into a regular pattern. It did cause them to pattern, but having been in labor before, I knew they weren't nearly painful enough to be doing much work. By the end of the day, not much had changed. The midwife was going to have me stay overnight so they could insert a foley balloon and then resume pit the next day, but I asked if I might be discharged instead, provided I stayed local with some friends. They agreed and so Daniel and I wound up at the home of our faithful friends, the Marottas, where we slept long and hard.

The next day, I encouraged Daniel and my mom and sisters (who had also come down since they were planning to be present at the birth) to all return home, though I would stay. I had never wanted to be hanging out in Syracuse just waiting for labor to start, but after the day before, I was more convinced than ever that I also didn't want to be induced-- and now I'd had quite a revelation of just how tricky timing a departure to a hospital 140 miles away from home could be. Staying in Syracuse, despite missing the kids and home and normal routines, relieved all the pressure, and the Marottas were eagerly inviting me to do just that.

Thursday and Friday were spent being spoiled by Jayne. I went to bed Friday evening after a wonderful steak dinner with plans of getting a pedicure (!) the next morning and spending another day relaxing, taking walks, etc. I'd had a couple more noticeable contractions just before retiring, but I wasn't thinking too much after the previous few days.

At about 11:30pm I woke up and thought, "Hmm. I wonder if these are the real thing."

Not wanting to sound an alarm falsely or too early, I decided to just do my best to sleep. I dozed on and off and between contractions, but around 2am I started to think I should locate a phone and maybe call Daniel just to let him know what was going on (he had no idea at that point). I found a phone, but then hesitated. Daniel had a morning commitment in Madrid that day and I hated to call him down too soon. A bit later, I decided to go ahead and call, but I told him not to leave; just to make sure he had his things ready "in case."

At 3:30, after several contractions that really required my attention, I called and told him to come.

To be continued...

 

Nearing the end

I'm 37 weeks pregnant now. Being so close to delivery has snuck up on me, overall, although the recently begun and [at least] once daily meltdowns-- whether over kids' attitudes or the state/condition of the house or not sleeping well or Daniel's evening schedule, etc-- are always a sure sign for me that we are officially in the end-game! I'd blame the meltdowns on the on-going renovations upstairs and how that seems to continually contribute to extra chaos in the home except that I've done this every time, regardless of whether or not we're finishing up any major projects. There's always something for these raging hormones to latch on to as a reason for tears, it seems!

At this point, Daniel very graciously hears me out, tells me how we're going to make sure that our home/family is more ordered by the time the baby arrives, and then works with me to tackle the various "stressers". He handles me like a champ-- almost like he's been here before or something. ;)

I don't have any (nor have I had any at any point since we broke through the roof last June) lofty ambitions about us having our new bedroom upstairs done by the time Paladin #6 makes his/her grand entrance, but I have for months hoped to be back to having two bathrooms by then. It may sound silly since none of my children are even teenagers, but 7 of us sharing one bathroom is busy. I can't remember the last time I took a shower without someone needing to use the bathroom in that short 5-minute span (come to think of it, if they were teenagers and not toddlers/preschoolers who need to go when they need to go, I probably could get 5 minutes of solitude!), but I'm looking forward to being able to lock the door and tell them to use the other bathroom!

Yesterday Daniel laid the floor tile, which was his first time working with tile and a wet saw. It won't be long before there's a beautiful, new, finished bathroom in my house as a very tangible expression of his love and care for me. He is amazing.

While he laid tile, the 3 big kids and I did some thorough house cleaning. Thanks to the hormones, I just couldn't take the dust bunnies or dirty freezer for one more minute, no matter how tired I feel thanks to my low iron. We've still got quite a ways to go before I'll feel like we've sufficiently restored order to all the various nooks and crannies of the house, but if we keep hitting it hard like we did yesterday and today, we should be there in no time. In fact, we might get there too soon and have to do a thorough repeat spring cleaning again before the baby arrives, knowing my history of going late!

I did have a prenatal appointment in Syracuse on Monday with a midwife at the regional perinatal center there. She was wonderful.

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. I literally had tears in my eyes at one point because I felt so at ease with her, and I've just not had that feeling with someone handling my prenatal care in a long time.

(Okay, okay... so maybe having tears in my eyes doesn't necessarily mean a whole lot these days, but still... she was so comforting in a light-hearted put-you-at-ease sort of way!)

I do have a difficult choice in front of me now: whether to go with the 2-1/2-hours-away OB practice that I trust to make wise, unselfish, conscientious choices on behalf of me and my baby or to go with the closer-to-home practice that doesn't post great numbers (1 VBAC/year or so and a higher-than-average c-section rate) and, though willing to work with me, would definitely require me to be more aggressive in order to achieve my intended VBAC. It's not an easy choice for me. Although my exhaustion this pregnancy is contributing greatly to me just feeling like I'm not up for strong-arming anyone into giving me what I want and that I'd rather drive a little further in order to have care that puts me completely at ease, I also worry a bit about how trying to deliver so far away would work.

In the meantime, the baby keeps growing and is healthy and active and content. He/she has no clue that I haven't found the car seat or washed a single stitch of baby clothing or trained Aubrey to stand nicely through Sunday morning worship or completed our targeted amount of school work or finished painting the new bedrooms or re-organized the kitchen cabinets or settled on a delivery plan or anything like that. I need to take my cues from him/her and realize that it's as simple as taking it all one day at a time!

 

Of late

We have had to take life a little lot slower of late. Between my low iron levels that make for some interesting scenarios if I push myself too hard (passing out, heart palpitations, etc)-- and pushing too hard can be as simple as trying to vacuum the entire house in one fell swoop-- and a continuous cycle of sick kids, the home fires have been burn-ing! If I leave the house for something, Daniel's here with those who aren't healthy enough to be out and about; but usually, it's me here with at least a few of the five little people running fevers, nursing sore throats, coughing and wheezing, and/or blowing their noses. The family room couch has looked like this for about a month straight, except with rotating patients:

Jack and Claire are the ones I'm home from church with this week.
 

Overall, I've got pretty good patients. It is, of course, inevitable that the sick ones don't sleep soundly through the night, though. That adds to the exhaustion, to say the least, but we're managing. Overhauling expectations has helped with that: at this point, I'm really pleased with a day that includes school, basic housework/chores, and meal prep. These are the expectations I'm not accustomed to switching to until after the baby's born, but it is what it is.

And while I tend the sick crew, Daniel keeps chipping away upstairs. Hormones haven't quite kicked into the It-Has-To-Be-Done-NOW mode yet, but they are certainly adding to my eagerness to get at least the bathroom done. Seeing it slowly take shape as Daniel puts in a few hours here and a few hours there doesn't help my impatience. We're getting really, really, really close to finish work now!

Claire loves visiting Daddy to check on the work. One of the things finished on Friday was the framing in of this linen closet. Only a homemaker can appreciate my excitement about actually having a linen closet after six years of shoving extra bedsheets, towels, and pillows wherever I could find a spot to put them!
 

Plumbing lines run for the 2 sinks, along with the electrical boxes where 3 sconces will frame the two mirrors I have yet to find (anyone have a good lead on oval wood-frame mirrors? I never thought I'd have such difficulty locating inexpensive ones!).
 

Josh and Daniel totally humored me and installed this recessed light/bathroom fan unit that was MUCH more difficult to install than a traditional fan. I'm spoiled, I know.
 

The man on a mission. For me.
He's the best.
(And, if you didn't notice, we have a tub! UPSTAIRS!!!)

 
Also of late, I am continuing to beef up my diet (no pun intended) in an effort to quickly increase my iron levels. Animal protein is most quickly absorbed, so adding lots of that has been a major change to our normal way of eating, which is typically minimal meat/poultry and more rice/beans. With the clock ticking and the countdown ever nearing on this baby's arrival, I don't have time to mess around, so along with molasses in everything I can think of (cookies, bread, oatmeal, milk, granola, and more), I've dramatically increased my animal protein intake. Yogurt, eggs, chicken, beef, and pork are becoming a part of just about every meal I eat. I can't say that I love it, but when I think about how lousy I feel now and how hard it would be to take care of a newborn with this kind of exhaustion, I get motivated to take one more bite.

Today I'm going to try my hand at cooking liver and onions for the first time. I found what reviewers say is a palate-changing recipe. I've never actually eaten liver, but I have to admit that slicing it a bit ago just about turned me into a firm vegetarian. That stuff is weird! The liver is soaking in milk now, which according to much of what I've read is essential to taking the rubber sole taste out of it.

I'm a little afraid of food that has the potential to taste like a rubber sole.

I've got bread dough rising so that even if we all hate the liver, at least we'll still have something to eat for lunch.

(Come to think of it, maybe I'll try to get a batch of molasses cookies made, too. I'm seriously concerned!)

One thing's for sure: the anemia sure doesn't seem to be slowing down the growth of this unborn baby, although perhaps some doctors would see slower growth as a good thing in my case since I tend to give birth to 3-month-olds??? Claire puts her hand on my belly several times a day for the past few weeks and says, "Belly big, Mom. Baby big."

Thanks, hon, you're really boosting my self-esteem. I mean, is it not enough that I look as pale as a ghost, I've gained more weight than I did with either of the last two pregnancies (which, by the way, reinforces my "hunch" that we've got a boy on the way), and I generally feel less than human these days? No, on top of all that, I have to be regularly told how huge I am.

By a two-year-old!

33 weeks pregnant; I'm guessing that Baby is about 5lbs.

Still, I'm just thankful that all is going well for the most part. The baby seems healthy. I'm getting regular prenatal care. I've got what seems to be a good plan for delivery, and the back-up solution of heading to Syracuse (where they are all for my VBAC'ing) if all else fails. Daniel is unendingly patient with how slow I have to take things. The kids are stepping up and doing so much to help: Gabriel and Bronwyn regularly tuck the younger ones in on the nights Daniel's not home so that all I have to do is come up, pray with each of them, kiss them good-night, and then head down to my own bed-- not mention a whole host of other things they do to help all day long.

So of late, we're taking it slow, but I'm also feeling tremendously blessed. Not everyone has a support system right in their very own home like I do. God has been so, so, SO good to me!

 

Swimming In November

On November 21st I had a number of appointments scheduled in Syracuse: a level II ultrasound, a fetal echocardiogram, genetic counseling, and a meeting with MFM about delivery options at Crouse Hospital. We had already planned to head to Pittsburgh the next day for a Thanksgiving trip and it seemed silly to drive to Syracuse and back on Monday, only to drive that same 2-1/2 hour stretch the next day. The plan of taking all the kids in order to then spend the night in a hotel with a swimming pool was hatched and, boy, was it even better than we had anticipated.

We had so much fun!

The big indoor pool was the highlight (and we took advantage of it twice), but the giant atrium with lots of little paths to explore, the roomy suite, the hot [free!] breakfast the next morning, and the hours of family time were pretty awesome, too!
 

We had the whole pool area to ourselves both that first evening and the next morning

Sticking our feet in the hot tub

The kids were rather excited about not only having cable television but also WATCHING TV IN BED!!  

For those curious, the five hours of appointments did go well. This baby, unlike Claire, was not in a great position for ruling out all the heart abnormalities they like to rule out, but they feel confident that there are at least no major problems.

I had a long chat with a doctor who was absolutely enthusiastic about my VBAC'ing there and even said, "That's great!" when I told him that I would want midwife care with OB back-up. We've not settled entirely on where the delivery will take place, but we're definitely leaning more and more strongly toward an out-of-the-area birth. Though the drawbacks to that are plentiful, the drawbacks locally are at least as plentiful and-- right now, anyway-- much more daunting and exhausting to me.

Also for those curious, we did not find out what we're having! Daniel and I both prefer the surprise and neither of us felt a compelling reason to find out ahead of time. We're in this for the long-haul and loving every minute of Who Knows?! I lean toward boy myself, for what it's worth.

(Not much, I realize, since I'm generally wrong! Still, it is what I think!)

 

An update (or, rather, two)

1. A friend emailed recently, asking how things are going and what the latest with the new babe is. Kind of made me realize that this pregnancy really is flying by. I feel like we just shared our news, but the calendar tells me that I'm 18 weeks pregnant-- not 7 like I was then-- and the kicks and flutters of new life reinforce that regularly.

We have taken the initial steps in putting a plan together for maternity care-- the rest will be determined at the end of the year/beginning of the next:

I saw the local OB/GYN who delivered Claire when I was 14 weeks along, following routine blood work (anemia: check) and an ultrasound for dating purposes (only 1 day discrepancy at 12 weeks is pretty accurate, so no change in due date there-- though I always welcome the opportunity to push the due date back). All was normal at that visit, including the baby's heart rate of 151bpm.

We set up an appointment with Dr. Smith (one of Aubrey's cardiologists) for a fetal echocardiogram (required each pregnancy for me since Aubrey) on November 21st. I will be 22 weeks along then.

I've decided to take advantage of an already-planned trip to Syracuse to meet with the MFM there that day so that I can warn them of my potential desire to deliver with them. I'm still not sure whether I will want to go to Syracuse or Burlington for the delivery, but I figure meeting a doctor or two may help me sort that out and since I'll be in the area anyway, I might as well.

My local doctor is very ready-- dare I say eager?!-- to help me arrange an out-of-the-area delivery. I know that he is genuinely convinced the local hospitals here are simply not equipped for VBACs. I'm not a medical professional so I can't fully comment on that, but at least he's being super helpful. My next appointment with him is December 21st.

Yes, you read that right and, yes, that means I will have gone 12 weeks between my first and second regular OB appointments. I asked for a more laid-back schedule and I got it!

2. In other health news (but not completely unrelated, since Aubrey's little heart is exactly how we wound up dealing with things like VBACs and high-risk pregnancies in the first place!), we received a letter from Aubrey's cardiologists letting us know that they and the pediatric cardiology surgeon in Rochester, NY discussed Aubrey in their most recent monthly conference, just as Dr. Byrum told me at the latest appointment that they would. I don't completely understand all the jargon or how to better explain it, so I'll just quote part of the latest update:

The principle question that we focused on was whether Aubrey would be able to be repaired leaving four heart chambers or whether it would be in her better interest to go toward what is called a single ventricle pathway of surgery. It would appear that an attempt to do a surgery to leave her with four heart chambers would be highly complicated and potentially fraught on both short and long term with difficulties including the need for reoperations.

...We discussed possibly a catheterization for her as an outpatient in the spring of 2012 and discuss the possibility of surgery for her in the summer of 2012; but, it could just as easily wait another whole year.

I could tell you that my heart seizes a bit when reading words like "highly complicated" and "fraught on both short and long term" in anything having to do with my beautiful little girl, but really, I just need to say that I am so thankful for the words "it could just as easily wait another whole year."

The truth is that we don't know exactly what lies ahead for Aubrey. Even her cardiologists aren't certain.

But she's okay right now.

And we serve a good and faithful and powerful God.

Which leaves us time to pray, to seek counsel, to look for second opinions (and third, if Daniel chooses to humor my paranoia!), and to continue learning how to trust and treasure this moment as the tremendous gift that it is.

 

Home

Home today looks and sounds like:

- handwriting exercises and oral spelling tests

- processing at least 1 bushel of beautiful Wayne County apples

- saws and nails and the installation of more insulation upstairs

- autumn sunlight streaming in through freshly washed windows

- the washing machine humming non-stop as it works to keep up with our family

- audio Scripture 

- 16 weeks of growing

 

Yes, it's true

there's another bouncing babe on his/her way!

due March 28, 2012

 

 

"If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle."  -Vincent van Gogh

 

Baby pool results

Check out the baby pool results:

The winner is Sarah!