When the baby is screaming - all morning long - is it better to let the kids cut up newspaper into little teeny tiny pieces all over the kitchen table, and eat cereal in, around, and all over the living room, and pull out all their pillows and blankets to make some kind of indoor campground in the hallway (oh, and pull out all their stuffed animals to join them, too!), and then get out some markers and paper (lots and lots of paper...) for "art time" ("Can I make a copy of this coloring page? What about this one? And can I have some tape? Can you help me with the tape? Why not?")...or to let them watch too much TV? (While I pondered this question, we managed to avoid the TV, but what price my sanity? Still pondering this big philosophical question.)
Does all the bouncing and pacing (and bouncing and pacing...and bouncing...and pacing...) that I've been doing to console the baby count as a workout? Or, even if it does, does periodically downing handfuls of chocolate cancel out any benefits? And exactly how much do I care?
When the baby finally falls asleep, what to do? Should I take a shower and get dressed? Should I clean up the bits of newspaper (or the breakfast things all over the kitchen and living room?). Should I do something about lunch, since the morning is now over? Should I ask the kids to do something that resembles schoolwork? Should I throw in a load of laundry? Dry and fold one? Put one away? Should I do none of the above and just sit in silence with my eyes closed for a minute and hope I don't fall asleep? (Should I now, in this particular quiet moment, be sitting in my pajamas and blogging? Probably not...)
Fortunately, these were yesterday's questions. Today has been a little smoother. Still, this is the extent of my deep thinking these days!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Being a Mom of More than Most...
I want to say first of all that I realize it's not a competition. and I'm not for an instant suggesting that. For one thing, I have a number of friends who have larger families than I do, so I wouldn't even come close to winning. But there's something about having five children that seems to nudge one over the "you must be crazy" edge. If people took note of how many children we had in tow before, now I can almost see their lips moving as they count us all up. "One, two, three, four...five?!" So it seems that five children is more than most people have, want to have, or can even imagine having. Hence the catchy title.
But this isn't meant to be a comprehensive look at all the ins and outs of being such a mom; it's just a snapshot of my first real week as one. The first week after Scarlett's birth doesn't really count, as I stayed in bed dutifully and let Dave, and then my mom, take care of the other kids and the house. For that week, I allowed myself to be a mom of just one, and I didn't assume my full responsibilities again until last Friday. After eight days of doing nothing but snuggling with a newborn, I was pretty well rested, we had no appointments or anything much to do, and Dave was off again the next day... so that day doesn't really count, either. Monday was my real inauguration into life with all five of my charges. I'd like to say that beginning that day we had a week full of peaceful snuggle time, with lots of reading to older children during nursing sessions. I'd like to say that, once more at the helm, I directed a cheerful flow to our day, that the older children were always happy and productive, and that the baby was blissed out in the sling while we all went about our orderly business.
But alas.
The reality, of course, is that Scarlett wasn't always as easy to please as is instructed in the fifth-baby handbook, and that often while I was attempting to console her, some of the older kids were fighting loudly (or pulling out every toy in the house, or raiding the pantry - again, or picking handfuls of green tomatoes out of the garden...) and other children, completely oblivious to the chaos, were asking me to help them locate Scotch tape or inquiring about random Star Wars trivia. The reality is that all the kids watched a little too much TV and played a little too much Wii this week. The reality is that sometimes when Dave came home I retreated to my bedroom to rock the baby...and rocked her for quite a long time after she was sound asleep enough to put her down.
Then again, there were plenty of positives - more often than not at least the beds were made (at some point in the day), everyone was fed, and they all enjoyed plenty of bonding time with Daddy in the evenings. We had two appointments this past week, one to the pediatrician for Scarlett and one to the dentist for Drew, and we made it to both on time. A friend watched the older four kids for the former, but the latter was my first solo outing with the kids, and we survived it!
And sometimes Scarlett was blissed out in a sling...
Monday, July 5, 2010
The Name
It is a fact that Gone With the Wind is one my favorite movies. I've loved it ever since I was just a little older than Aimee is now, and it used to be the movie of choice at my birthday sleepovers. So I probably will call my new daughter "Miss Scarlett" every now and then, and I don't think the Scarlett O'Hara quotes thrown our way (yes, I mean YOU, Sarah Elliot!) will ever bother me.
But while I admit this was all in the back of my mind when I began contemplating the name Scarlett, it isn't the reason we eventually chose it. It's funny how I had a list of favorite girl names I had been hanging onto for years, and yet I still searched through lists of baby names (and only ever girl names, even before an ultrasound confirmed what I think I knew from the start), not quite satisfied with any of those favorites. The little soul I was carrying was someone different than the potential daughters of the past - the daughters, incidentally, whose absence I didn't mourn. I had always wanted boys, and with some of the finest specimens have I been gifted. But this time, from the moment I suspected her presence, it was a girl, and it seemed just the right time for another one of that variety.
That said, from the time we announced that we were expecting her, there was an undeniable vibe that "another one" would only make sense for us if it were going to be a girl. Because for heaven's sake, five? We had better be having a girl, anyway, because we certainly didn't "need" another boy, even if we did insist on having another baby we didn't "need." I don't mean we got this from people who love us, but we certainly heard it from society in general. So as I began thinking about names, I knew we needed to give this baby a name that would forever speak against that vibe. Even when it was confirmed that she was a girl - and I almost hated giving nosy strangers the satisfaction of that knowledge when they rudely inquired, "You're having a girl, I hope?" - I wanted to let her know that she wasn't just "another one," a superfluous baby who was only good for being displayed in pink. I wanted her always to know that she will always be wanted and needed, a vital part of our family, whose very existence will give us more than the insignificant numbers it will cost us to raise her. (Ugh - I really loathe when the "cost" of raising children is expressed in monetary terms.)
So something struck me when I came across the name "Scarlett" one day. Of course it only refers to a shade of red, but I find red to be a vibrant, cheerful color, and I like to have at least some threads of it in each room. It makes me happy, and that's the thought that remained with me when I pondered that name, which I also found to be a pretty and unique one. Not everyone in the family was sold on it when I first suggested it, but it remained on the list, and they began to warm up to it. But when we first saw her on the ultrasound screen , suddenly there she was - Scarlett. It was just WHO she was. Dave apparently felt the same way, too, because while we hadn't said anything about it in the doctor's office, he sent me a text later that day and asked how Scarlett was doing. And that was that.
As for Jane, I can't even remember when that was first suggested, but it just seemed to fit, and when I put the names together, I could picture the spirited girl I imagined she would probably grow up to be. Oh yes, and then there's this relative we have who has the name Jane...who herself is a rather spirited and vibrant individual, so that was probably some of it, too. (But don't let it go to your head, Erica Jane, baby sister o' mine.) Jane, too, means, "God is gracious," and that fit with our theme as well. Very simply put, grace is getting things we don't deserve. We don't find our children to be trophies that fit into the neat decor of our own lives - because, among, other things, that would lend itself to suggest that too many of them, or too many of the wrong kind, would be...too many. And even worse, that the ones we have are ones we "deserve." We believe instead that God creates people for his own purpose, and so that our children don't ultimately belong to us anyway. But as usual with God's plans and purposes, He weaves the big picture and the small pictures together in a perfect tapestry. With our children, this means that they are gifts to us - gifts we don't deserve and therefore can't rightfully hoard, but ones we welcome, treasure, and protect.
So, in giving our new gift this name we are saying that you, Scarlett Jane, are more than a fifth child and a ninth grandchild. You are not one too many, more than we need, a slip-up, an extra, or a problem that we should have "fixed" before you were conceived. You are God's gift to us, an outpouring of his graciousness in our lives, and you are bringing to our family vibrance, color, and happiness - and we're so glad you're here!
But while I admit this was all in the back of my mind when I began contemplating the name Scarlett, it isn't the reason we eventually chose it. It's funny how I had a list of favorite girl names I had been hanging onto for years, and yet I still searched through lists of baby names (and only ever girl names, even before an ultrasound confirmed what I think I knew from the start), not quite satisfied with any of those favorites. The little soul I was carrying was someone different than the potential daughters of the past - the daughters, incidentally, whose absence I didn't mourn. I had always wanted boys, and with some of the finest specimens have I been gifted. But this time, from the moment I suspected her presence, it was a girl, and it seemed just the right time for another one of that variety.
That said, from the time we announced that we were expecting her, there was an undeniable vibe that "another one" would only make sense for us if it were going to be a girl. Because for heaven's sake, five? We had better be having a girl, anyway, because we certainly didn't "need" another boy, even if we did insist on having another baby we didn't "need." I don't mean we got this from people who love us, but we certainly heard it from society in general. So as I began thinking about names, I knew we needed to give this baby a name that would forever speak against that vibe. Even when it was confirmed that she was a girl - and I almost hated giving nosy strangers the satisfaction of that knowledge when they rudely inquired, "You're having a girl, I hope?" - I wanted to let her know that she wasn't just "another one," a superfluous baby who was only good for being displayed in pink. I wanted her always to know that she will always be wanted and needed, a vital part of our family, whose very existence will give us more than the insignificant numbers it will cost us to raise her. (Ugh - I really loathe when the "cost" of raising children is expressed in monetary terms.)
So something struck me when I came across the name "Scarlett" one day. Of course it only refers to a shade of red, but I find red to be a vibrant, cheerful color, and I like to have at least some threads of it in each room. It makes me happy, and that's the thought that remained with me when I pondered that name, which I also found to be a pretty and unique one. Not everyone in the family was sold on it when I first suggested it, but it remained on the list, and they began to warm up to it. But when we first saw her on the ultrasound screen , suddenly there she was - Scarlett. It was just WHO she was. Dave apparently felt the same way, too, because while we hadn't said anything about it in the doctor's office, he sent me a text later that day and asked how Scarlett was doing. And that was that.
As for Jane, I can't even remember when that was first suggested, but it just seemed to fit, and when I put the names together, I could picture the spirited girl I imagined she would probably grow up to be. Oh yes, and then there's this relative we have who has the name Jane...who herself is a rather spirited and vibrant individual, so that was probably some of it, too. (But don't let it go to your head, Erica Jane, baby sister o' mine.) Jane, too, means, "God is gracious," and that fit with our theme as well. Very simply put, grace is getting things we don't deserve. We don't find our children to be trophies that fit into the neat decor of our own lives - because, among, other things, that would lend itself to suggest that too many of them, or too many of the wrong kind, would be...too many. And even worse, that the ones we have are ones we "deserve." We believe instead that God creates people for his own purpose, and so that our children don't ultimately belong to us anyway. But as usual with God's plans and purposes, He weaves the big picture and the small pictures together in a perfect tapestry. With our children, this means that they are gifts to us - gifts we don't deserve and therefore can't rightfully hoard, but ones we welcome, treasure, and protect.
So, in giving our new gift this name we are saying that you, Scarlett Jane, are more than a fifth child and a ninth grandchild. You are not one too many, more than we need, a slip-up, an extra, or a problem that we should have "fixed" before you were conceived. You are God's gift to us, an outpouring of his graciousness in our lives, and you are bringing to our family vibrance, color, and happiness - and we're so glad you're here!
Friday, July 2, 2010
Scarlett Jane Meester
I haven't been diligent at all in my blogging of late - well, for the last nine months, I suppose - or else I would have posted at least once about how blessed I was during my pregnancy. Obviously I had my share of the typical and less than pleasant pregnancy symptoms, but by now those are a distant memory. And I suppose those are part of the blessing anyway. But what I'm referring to, at any rate, is having had a support system of caregivers who made the time of preparation a beautiful and peaceful one. Having connected with my midwife, Jami, from the very first time I spoke to her on the phone, my visits with her (here at our house) were some of the most pleasant hours of my pregnancy and were almost therapeutic in nature. She was a vital part in helping me to prepare in all ways for the birth, which I wanted to be one of faith and not of fear. I needed to work through some issues from past births, but I also wanted to be purposeful in letting this birth have its own story, rather than just be full of reactions against the past - and she certainly helped me sort through those feelings and take postive steps. The fact that she shares my faith and would pray with me at times also contributed toward the feeling of being kindred spirits. And of course she was careful and professional in guiding me through the ins and outs of the pregnancy and in watching over the growth of the baby. When questions arose that required some outside help, she directed me to an OB who proved to be both genuinely concerned over my welfare and the baby's, and completely unthreatened by serving as a back-up, which was refreshing. Even his nurse, who had had a midwife for her last birth, was kind and supportive, and even sent me a personal note a couple weeks ago. And then throughout the last trimester, I went to a chiropractor Jami recommended, in the hopes that we could have things lined up correctly in order to have the easiest birth possible (i.e. not the posterior variety I had experienced the last two times!). Said chiropractor is a down-to-earth, understanding woman with a small, no-frills office, and she, too, seemed truly to care about my overall well-being and about helping me achieve a good birth. It didn't even bother her in the least when the kids had to come with me.
So...the bottom line is that I felt beautifully supported throughout my pregnancy, and as the time for delivery drew near, I felt prepared , and, at the same time, largely stress-free. As in my other pregnancies, I did feel the need to organize and scour, cook and freeze, and generally nest liike crazy, but I didn't feel like I was going crazy as I did it, and for the most part I felt content to let things happen whenever and in whatever way they were going to happen. Because the other kids were born either a few days before or right on their respective due dates, I did feel fairly confident that we could probably expect a baby somewhere in the 40th week, but I tried to not put everything on hold or get too keyed up about it as that time arrived. I didn't want any anxious hours of waiting or being watched every time I thought labor might be starting, and as we entered this week, we planned for all our usual activities.
Even when at my prenatal on Tuesday Jami reported that I was at 4 cm and 85% effaced, I still tried not to read into that too much (it doesn't always mean much, after all), and I felt comfortable letting Dave go fishing that night. Jami had brought over a birth ball that morning, and I sat on it while I read to the boys at bedtime and then later when I enjoyed some time to myself and watched an season 1 episode of Lost on Netflix. I had been having good Braxton Hicks contractions for a few days, but sitting on the ball that night soon changed the nature of those contractions, so that they were actually a little painful. I got off the ball and onto the couch, watched (ahem!) another episode, and contemplated once or twice calling Dave and suggesting that he might want to come home. But I checked the urge and reminded myself that I didn't want to panic, so eventually I just decided to go to bed and see what happened. It took me until after midnight to go to sleep, and I was beginning to hope a little...when I finally settled into a nice sleep, and only woke up a couple times for my customary bathroom visits. I had contractions each of those times, but was always able to go back to sleep, so, slightly disappointed, I concluded that it just been a trial run. I consoled myself by reasoning that it would probably be best if things held off until the weekend, anyway - I still had some things I wanted to finish around the house and in my school planning. I woke up that morning planning to take the kids to the movies (the Free Family Film festival that theaters put on during the summer), even though as we were doing chores and getting ready, my contractions resumed a steady pace and were still somewhat painful. Since I could still get around without too much pause at each one, though, I was determined to make it through the day as planned, and we headed off to the theater. We settled into our seats, and a lady behind us took a look at my belly and quipped, "Gracious, you're not going to have that baby in the theater, are you?" I smiled, pretending I found that amusing, and then struggled the entire time to hide the truth that in fact the contractions I was having were awfully distracting. I even tried to convince myself that they weren't bothering me all that much, but for most of the movie I just wished it would be over, and the thought escaped that if they got the slightest bit stronger or closer together, I wasn't going to want to be by myself.
When we finally got home, the kids were hungry, and I asked Aimee to make lunch while I supervised, but with every contraction, I ducked around a corner and dealt with it quietly, because I didn't want the kids to get excited or be worried...even though I was still not admitting any thoughts of real labor myself. I did straighten some rooms up and vacuum, because if it were labor...well, I hadn't been cleaning vigorously for a week so people could come in to a mess, contractions or not! It turned out, though, that I couldn't get everything. The kids moved from lunch to art projects at the school room table, and by that point, I was definitely getting too distracted to care about clearning up after them. I did call Jami then to let her know that I was having contractions that I thought were about ten minutes apart, and that I didn't know what they signified, if anything, but since she had wanted an early heads-up, I thought it couldn't hurt to call. She suggested I try to get into the chiropractor for an adjustment to see if that changed anything, but as she was telling me this, I had a contraction, and after she listened to me deal with it, she laughed ans said she thought I was probably in labor. I told her I wasn't sure, but that I would schedule and appointment and call her in an hour with an update. I made an appointment with the chiropractor for 3:30, texted Dave to let him know I might need him, but NOT to come home just then, and then timed some contractions out of curiosity. As it turned out, they were actually 6-7 minutes apart, and a few were only 4 minutes apart. When I called Jami after the elapsed hour, she laughed some more and told me she really thought it was labor and didn't think I was going to make my chiropractor's appointment. She said she could come whenever I liked, and I told her I still wasn't convinced, so I would just call her with an update later. This was at about 2:00, and I texted Dave again to tell him what she had said, but that I also wasn't yet sure and I still didn't want him to come home. But then at 2:30 I had a contraction that prompted me to send him another text and tell him that I had changed my mind and wanted him sooner rather than later. He was home about ten minutes later, and when I expressed doubts about being able to make it through an adjustment, he told me that he didn't think I should go, and he called the office for me to cancel it. I was back in our room at that point, sitting on the birth ball and simmering in a state of uncertainty. Dave came back and suggested that he should probably have someone to come get the kids, and I told him no, because I still wasn't sure if it was the real thing, and I didn't know what to do or when. He watched me for a few more minutes and commented that I was being stubborn and it really looked like labor to him, at which point I began to cry, protesting that I hadn't imagined going into labor in the middle of the day, and my room was too light, etc....at which point he smiled, covered the windows, and announced that he was going to call Jami to come, and he was going to ask my mom to come get the kids. I cried irrationally for a few more minutes while he took care of everything, but at least at that point, I had moved to a state of semi-acceptance that I probably was in labor.
Jami's daughter Jessica, a labor and delivery nurse who assists her when she's available, arrived first, at around 3:30, and began matter-of-factly setting the room up with the birth supplies, and also massaging my back with each contraction. I wanted to protest that she might want to wait until we really knew. but she seemed so calm and decisive that I didn't say anything, and then Jami and Brooke, the doula who assists her, both arrived at about 4:00 and settled right in to the labor motions as well. I remembered that Jami had said they didn't mind about false alarms, anyway, and I reasoned that if my labor stalled out, it wouldn't be the first time they had dealt with it. Jami and Jessica cheerfully took my vitals, while Brooke, without a moment's hesitation, starting in massaging my back with each contraction (I immediately realized she was going to be amazing), and pretty soon I resigned myself further to the idea that this was the real deal, although I did mention once or twice that it seemed surreal. They asked me if I wanted them to fill the birth tub (I had wanted another go at a waterbirth, and had borrowed a friend's birth pool, which was ready and waiting in a corner of our bedroom), and I was taken aback, thinking that it was too early. But Jami said my contractions were coming regularly and were lasting about 90 seconds at that point, so she thought I was well into active labor and could get in anytime I wanted. Still, I waited until sometime after 6:00 before asking them to fill it. Dave ran a hose from the hot water hook-up to the washing machine, and filled the tub. Everyone but Dave left the room so that I could get in and get comfortable (and I was relieved that we actually had some food in house so that they could have dinner!), and I tentatively climbed in and hoped my labor wouldn't stop. It didn't, and I tried out different positions through the next several contractions, figuring out what worked best. At some point Jami, Jessica, and Brooke came back in to check on me and listen to the baby, and Brooke began massaging my back again - leaning over the tub! She was incredible and, it seemed, tireless. It was somewhere around this point that I reflected how it seemed like I should have felt like a "watched pot," or at least should have felt awkward with them just being there, sitting quietly around the tub, but they were so calm and unhurried that they exuded a sense of being perfectly content to sit and wait on my every need. There wasn't a single vibe that I was inconveniencing anyone...even as they were frequently bailing out cooled water to make room for more hot water. As the contractions became more intense, I grew more tired, and I commented once that I hoped the baby was getting the point and things were actually moving along. Jami asked if I wanted her to check me, and I said yes, thinking I might like to know. She tried to check me while I was in the water, but ended up needing me to get out, which I reluctantly did. A couple of contractions out of the water reminded me how much the water was actually doing for me, and I looked forward to getting back in! But Jami did the exam, and reported that I was at 6 cm. and 90% effaced. My bag of waters was also bulging, which accounted for the pressure and overall discomfort I had been feeling in front. She offered to have give me some more privacy at that point, and I could only nod as I climbed back in the tub. Dave sat silently on the bed in front of me, probably waiting for the inevitable meltdown, which came only a few minutes later. In previous births I had always been "stuck" at about 6 cm. In Chase's, this had been particularly agonizing, and I had been at a place of feeling exhausted and overwhelmed for what had seemed an almost unbearable number of hours. So I had been working during this pregnacny toward an easier, faster labor, but it seemed, at that moment, that my efforts had been in vain. I was despondent over the idea of having to labor in pain for countless hours more., and I began sobbing. I verged on hysterics through the next several contractions, which of course didn't help, until I finally resolved - just a little bit, but enough to pull myself together - to stop thinking about the past and focus on what I needed to do this time. I asked Dave to call someone in to continue massage and counterpressure on my back, and they all came back. I didn't seem like much longer (and later Jami told me it was about an hour, that I was in transition, and this time I was in an almost trance-like state. I could only mutter things in one word, like "Hot," "Cold," or "Juice", and whatever I needed appeared almost instantly. The only full sentence I could utter was, "I don't want to do this anymore," and that I repeated often, although I told Dave later that I didn't have any thought of actually wanting to go to the hospital or anything like that; I just needed to say the words. I was having fierce contractions one after the other. Some were double-peaked, and during a particularly rough one after I been in the bathroom and was out of the water for a few minutes, I could hear the seams in Dave's shirt ripping as I held on to him. Somewhere around this time, that pesky bag of water broke, and for just a minute I enjoyed a completely blissful feeling of relief as it slid out. It was only momentary, of course, and very soon I had to focus hard again to stay on top of the contractions. I felt like I was barely hanging on, and it was only the last rational thought I had left, tiny as it was, that held everything together - the thought that I couldn't let go and give up, mostly because there wasn't even a precipice to go over. I wouldn't go anywhere, and nothing would happen, except that the contractions would be in control, instead of me. One contraction did actually get ahead of me, and the resulting feeling also helped prompt me to work to stay on top of the rest of them. During this stage, Jami would say, "We're with you," as each contraction began, and while in the moment being reminded of that didn't seem to help, it was a bouying force.
Finally I felt a familiar urge I had been waiting for, and I told Jami I had to push. Calmly, she said, "Sure - you can push a little with the next one," and even pushing just a little with the next couple helped. She checked for the baby's head, said it was close, and soon I was really bearing down with each contraction. I generally like pushing, and felt relief this time as well - I suppose I like being able to do something with the contractions instead of feeling like I'm hanging on for dear life. Also this time I felt as though I could control them a little. They began to space out, as they do during the pushing phase, and I felt like I could hold them off until I was ready. Whether it was true or not I'm not sure, but when I felt twinges of one coming but felt like I needed a few more seconds to rest, I would chant, "Break, break, break." Pushing was hard work, though, and I wondered after awhile if we were getting anywhere. It turned out to be about an hour before I felt the head come through. I was in a semi-squatting position then, and I wasn't actually sure I had felt her head come, because while usually the rest of the body follows pretty quickly, this time Jami asked me to recline so that she could see "what was going on." She asked me to bear down hard with the next contraction, and I when I did, I felt a tremendous pulling. (Later everyone told me that the shoulders were stuck, and Jami had had to do a little pulling to get the baby out). I was so surprised by the intensity of this feeling that I was shocked when the next thing I knew there was a baby in my arms. I looked up at Dave and actually said, "It's a baby! We have a baby!" Then I was asking if she was okay, because she wasn't crying, but everyone assured me she was fine. I also asked if it was before midnight, because I had been hoping she would have a June birthday - it was 11:36pm, with which news I was thrilled. After I talked to her a little, she cried some, and then after looking her over Jami told me we needed to get out and over to the bed to deliver the placenta. With everyone's help, I got out of the tub, holding a still-attached baby - which was a funny feeling! - and went over to the bed. Scarlett began rooting around, and I wanted to nurse her, partly because I felt it would ground me a little - and I was still feeling a bit in shock - but I wanted to wait until the cord was cut. We were waiting for it to stop pulsing for that, but the cord pulsed for over 20 minutes. Jami said she had never seen one go so long! She told me today that she asked another midwife about it, and was told that sometimes the baby's heartbeat is so strong that blood is actually being pumped through in the opposite direction. But it finally did stop, was clamped and then cut, and I finally put an eager Scarlett to the breast, where she nursed for a few minutes. Delivering the placenta was a little harder than I remember it being in past births, and then there were some clots that had to be worked out. I had to give the baby to Dave while Jessica massaged my uterus, because it was rather painful and I couldn't focus on the baby. When I did get her back, though, I nursed her on the other side, which appeared to be her favorite. We all remarked that it's funny how babies often have a favorite from the beginning. After she was done nursing, Jami checked her over - she was beautifully healthy - and weighed and measured her. She weighed in at 8 lbs, 10 oz, and was 19 3/4 inches long.
And then it was over. It was only a little while longer that Jami, Jessica, and Brooke took to finish cleaning up and setting things back in order. Dave drained the pool out the window, and we all laughed about how funny it would look to the neighbors if they happened to see him. We also recounted some of the funny moments during the labor, some of which I had appreciated at the time, and others I had been unaware of. My Mom had the kids at a nearby hotel, and Dave went to get Aimee, who was still awake and waiting for the news. He brought her back and she held her long-awaited sister for a few precious minutes before we sent her to bed. (Mom brought the boys the next morning.) Around 2:00am everyone else gave me hugs and said good-bye, and then Dave and I curled up in bed with our new daughter. We had been so tired all night long, but we were suddenly unable to go to sleep as we stared at her sleeping soundly. It still seemed so unreal that she was there - that the previous morning we hadn't known she was coming, and now she was with us. Dave finally went to sleep a little after 3:00, and it took me longer, but I knew I could sleep later. It was just so amazing to look at my little girl.
That little girl is now waking, and this story has to have an end eventually, so I'll conclude it here! I want to explain her name, but we'll save that for a later post. Off to feed her now.
So...the bottom line is that I felt beautifully supported throughout my pregnancy, and as the time for delivery drew near, I felt prepared , and, at the same time, largely stress-free. As in my other pregnancies, I did feel the need to organize and scour, cook and freeze, and generally nest liike crazy, but I didn't feel like I was going crazy as I did it, and for the most part I felt content to let things happen whenever and in whatever way they were going to happen. Because the other kids were born either a few days before or right on their respective due dates, I did feel fairly confident that we could probably expect a baby somewhere in the 40th week, but I tried to not put everything on hold or get too keyed up about it as that time arrived. I didn't want any anxious hours of waiting or being watched every time I thought labor might be starting, and as we entered this week, we planned for all our usual activities.
Even when at my prenatal on Tuesday Jami reported that I was at 4 cm and 85% effaced, I still tried not to read into that too much (it doesn't always mean much, after all), and I felt comfortable letting Dave go fishing that night. Jami had brought over a birth ball that morning, and I sat on it while I read to the boys at bedtime and then later when I enjoyed some time to myself and watched an season 1 episode of Lost on Netflix. I had been having good Braxton Hicks contractions for a few days, but sitting on the ball that night soon changed the nature of those contractions, so that they were actually a little painful. I got off the ball and onto the couch, watched (ahem!) another episode, and contemplated once or twice calling Dave and suggesting that he might want to come home. But I checked the urge and reminded myself that I didn't want to panic, so eventually I just decided to go to bed and see what happened. It took me until after midnight to go to sleep, and I was beginning to hope a little...when I finally settled into a nice sleep, and only woke up a couple times for my customary bathroom visits. I had contractions each of those times, but was always able to go back to sleep, so, slightly disappointed, I concluded that it just been a trial run. I consoled myself by reasoning that it would probably be best if things held off until the weekend, anyway - I still had some things I wanted to finish around the house and in my school planning. I woke up that morning planning to take the kids to the movies (the Free Family Film festival that theaters put on during the summer), even though as we were doing chores and getting ready, my contractions resumed a steady pace and were still somewhat painful. Since I could still get around without too much pause at each one, though, I was determined to make it through the day as planned, and we headed off to the theater. We settled into our seats, and a lady behind us took a look at my belly and quipped, "Gracious, you're not going to have that baby in the theater, are you?" I smiled, pretending I found that amusing, and then struggled the entire time to hide the truth that in fact the contractions I was having were awfully distracting. I even tried to convince myself that they weren't bothering me all that much, but for most of the movie I just wished it would be over, and the thought escaped that if they got the slightest bit stronger or closer together, I wasn't going to want to be by myself.
When we finally got home, the kids were hungry, and I asked Aimee to make lunch while I supervised, but with every contraction, I ducked around a corner and dealt with it quietly, because I didn't want the kids to get excited or be worried...even though I was still not admitting any thoughts of real labor myself. I did straighten some rooms up and vacuum, because if it were labor...well, I hadn't been cleaning vigorously for a week so people could come in to a mess, contractions or not! It turned out, though, that I couldn't get everything. The kids moved from lunch to art projects at the school room table, and by that point, I was definitely getting too distracted to care about clearning up after them. I did call Jami then to let her know that I was having contractions that I thought were about ten minutes apart, and that I didn't know what they signified, if anything, but since she had wanted an early heads-up, I thought it couldn't hurt to call. She suggested I try to get into the chiropractor for an adjustment to see if that changed anything, but as she was telling me this, I had a contraction, and after she listened to me deal with it, she laughed ans said she thought I was probably in labor. I told her I wasn't sure, but that I would schedule and appointment and call her in an hour with an update. I made an appointment with the chiropractor for 3:30, texted Dave to let him know I might need him, but NOT to come home just then, and then timed some contractions out of curiosity. As it turned out, they were actually 6-7 minutes apart, and a few were only 4 minutes apart. When I called Jami after the elapsed hour, she laughed some more and told me she really thought it was labor and didn't think I was going to make my chiropractor's appointment. She said she could come whenever I liked, and I told her I still wasn't convinced, so I would just call her with an update later. This was at about 2:00, and I texted Dave again to tell him what she had said, but that I also wasn't yet sure and I still didn't want him to come home. But then at 2:30 I had a contraction that prompted me to send him another text and tell him that I had changed my mind and wanted him sooner rather than later. He was home about ten minutes later, and when I expressed doubts about being able to make it through an adjustment, he told me that he didn't think I should go, and he called the office for me to cancel it. I was back in our room at that point, sitting on the birth ball and simmering in a state of uncertainty. Dave came back and suggested that he should probably have someone to come get the kids, and I told him no, because I still wasn't sure if it was the real thing, and I didn't know what to do or when. He watched me for a few more minutes and commented that I was being stubborn and it really looked like labor to him, at which point I began to cry, protesting that I hadn't imagined going into labor in the middle of the day, and my room was too light, etc....at which point he smiled, covered the windows, and announced that he was going to call Jami to come, and he was going to ask my mom to come get the kids. I cried irrationally for a few more minutes while he took care of everything, but at least at that point, I had moved to a state of semi-acceptance that I probably was in labor.
Jami's daughter Jessica, a labor and delivery nurse who assists her when she's available, arrived first, at around 3:30, and began matter-of-factly setting the room up with the birth supplies, and also massaging my back with each contraction. I wanted to protest that she might want to wait until we really knew. but she seemed so calm and decisive that I didn't say anything, and then Jami and Brooke, the doula who assists her, both arrived at about 4:00 and settled right in to the labor motions as well. I remembered that Jami had said they didn't mind about false alarms, anyway, and I reasoned that if my labor stalled out, it wouldn't be the first time they had dealt with it. Jami and Jessica cheerfully took my vitals, while Brooke, without a moment's hesitation, starting in massaging my back with each contraction (I immediately realized she was going to be amazing), and pretty soon I resigned myself further to the idea that this was the real deal, although I did mention once or twice that it seemed surreal. They asked me if I wanted them to fill the birth tub (I had wanted another go at a waterbirth, and had borrowed a friend's birth pool, which was ready and waiting in a corner of our bedroom), and I was taken aback, thinking that it was too early. But Jami said my contractions were coming regularly and were lasting about 90 seconds at that point, so she thought I was well into active labor and could get in anytime I wanted. Still, I waited until sometime after 6:00 before asking them to fill it. Dave ran a hose from the hot water hook-up to the washing machine, and filled the tub. Everyone but Dave left the room so that I could get in and get comfortable (and I was relieved that we actually had some food in house so that they could have dinner!), and I tentatively climbed in and hoped my labor wouldn't stop. It didn't, and I tried out different positions through the next several contractions, figuring out what worked best. At some point Jami, Jessica, and Brooke came back in to check on me and listen to the baby, and Brooke began massaging my back again - leaning over the tub! She was incredible and, it seemed, tireless. It was somewhere around this point that I reflected how it seemed like I should have felt like a "watched pot," or at least should have felt awkward with them just being there, sitting quietly around the tub, but they were so calm and unhurried that they exuded a sense of being perfectly content to sit and wait on my every need. There wasn't a single vibe that I was inconveniencing anyone...even as they were frequently bailing out cooled water to make room for more hot water. As the contractions became more intense, I grew more tired, and I commented once that I hoped the baby was getting the point and things were actually moving along. Jami asked if I wanted her to check me, and I said yes, thinking I might like to know. She tried to check me while I was in the water, but ended up needing me to get out, which I reluctantly did. A couple of contractions out of the water reminded me how much the water was actually doing for me, and I looked forward to getting back in! But Jami did the exam, and reported that I was at 6 cm. and 90% effaced. My bag of waters was also bulging, which accounted for the pressure and overall discomfort I had been feeling in front. She offered to have give me some more privacy at that point, and I could only nod as I climbed back in the tub. Dave sat silently on the bed in front of me, probably waiting for the inevitable meltdown, which came only a few minutes later. In previous births I had always been "stuck" at about 6 cm. In Chase's, this had been particularly agonizing, and I had been at a place of feeling exhausted and overwhelmed for what had seemed an almost unbearable number of hours. So I had been working during this pregnacny toward an easier, faster labor, but it seemed, at that moment, that my efforts had been in vain. I was despondent over the idea of having to labor in pain for countless hours more., and I began sobbing. I verged on hysterics through the next several contractions, which of course didn't help, until I finally resolved - just a little bit, but enough to pull myself together - to stop thinking about the past and focus on what I needed to do this time. I asked Dave to call someone in to continue massage and counterpressure on my back, and they all came back. I didn't seem like much longer (and later Jami told me it was about an hour, that I was in transition, and this time I was in an almost trance-like state. I could only mutter things in one word, like "Hot," "Cold," or "Juice", and whatever I needed appeared almost instantly. The only full sentence I could utter was, "I don't want to do this anymore," and that I repeated often, although I told Dave later that I didn't have any thought of actually wanting to go to the hospital or anything like that; I just needed to say the words. I was having fierce contractions one after the other. Some were double-peaked, and during a particularly rough one after I been in the bathroom and was out of the water for a few minutes, I could hear the seams in Dave's shirt ripping as I held on to him. Somewhere around this time, that pesky bag of water broke, and for just a minute I enjoyed a completely blissful feeling of relief as it slid out. It was only momentary, of course, and very soon I had to focus hard again to stay on top of the contractions. I felt like I was barely hanging on, and it was only the last rational thought I had left, tiny as it was, that held everything together - the thought that I couldn't let go and give up, mostly because there wasn't even a precipice to go over. I wouldn't go anywhere, and nothing would happen, except that the contractions would be in control, instead of me. One contraction did actually get ahead of me, and the resulting feeling also helped prompt me to work to stay on top of the rest of them. During this stage, Jami would say, "We're with you," as each contraction began, and while in the moment being reminded of that didn't seem to help, it was a bouying force.
Finally I felt a familiar urge I had been waiting for, and I told Jami I had to push. Calmly, she said, "Sure - you can push a little with the next one," and even pushing just a little with the next couple helped. She checked for the baby's head, said it was close, and soon I was really bearing down with each contraction. I generally like pushing, and felt relief this time as well - I suppose I like being able to do something with the contractions instead of feeling like I'm hanging on for dear life. Also this time I felt as though I could control them a little. They began to space out, as they do during the pushing phase, and I felt like I could hold them off until I was ready. Whether it was true or not I'm not sure, but when I felt twinges of one coming but felt like I needed a few more seconds to rest, I would chant, "Break, break, break." Pushing was hard work, though, and I wondered after awhile if we were getting anywhere. It turned out to be about an hour before I felt the head come through. I was in a semi-squatting position then, and I wasn't actually sure I had felt her head come, because while usually the rest of the body follows pretty quickly, this time Jami asked me to recline so that she could see "what was going on." She asked me to bear down hard with the next contraction, and I when I did, I felt a tremendous pulling. (Later everyone told me that the shoulders were stuck, and Jami had had to do a little pulling to get the baby out). I was so surprised by the intensity of this feeling that I was shocked when the next thing I knew there was a baby in my arms. I looked up at Dave and actually said, "It's a baby! We have a baby!" Then I was asking if she was okay, because she wasn't crying, but everyone assured me she was fine. I also asked if it was before midnight, because I had been hoping she would have a June birthday - it was 11:36pm, with which news I was thrilled. After I talked to her a little, she cried some, and then after looking her over Jami told me we needed to get out and over to the bed to deliver the placenta. With everyone's help, I got out of the tub, holding a still-attached baby - which was a funny feeling! - and went over to the bed. Scarlett began rooting around, and I wanted to nurse her, partly because I felt it would ground me a little - and I was still feeling a bit in shock - but I wanted to wait until the cord was cut. We were waiting for it to stop pulsing for that, but the cord pulsed for over 20 minutes. Jami said she had never seen one go so long! She told me today that she asked another midwife about it, and was told that sometimes the baby's heartbeat is so strong that blood is actually being pumped through in the opposite direction. But it finally did stop, was clamped and then cut, and I finally put an eager Scarlett to the breast, where she nursed for a few minutes. Delivering the placenta was a little harder than I remember it being in past births, and then there were some clots that had to be worked out. I had to give the baby to Dave while Jessica massaged my uterus, because it was rather painful and I couldn't focus on the baby. When I did get her back, though, I nursed her on the other side, which appeared to be her favorite. We all remarked that it's funny how babies often have a favorite from the beginning. After she was done nursing, Jami checked her over - she was beautifully healthy - and weighed and measured her. She weighed in at 8 lbs, 10 oz, and was 19 3/4 inches long.
And then it was over. It was only a little while longer that Jami, Jessica, and Brooke took to finish cleaning up and setting things back in order. Dave drained the pool out the window, and we all laughed about how funny it would look to the neighbors if they happened to see him. We also recounted some of the funny moments during the labor, some of which I had appreciated at the time, and others I had been unaware of. My Mom had the kids at a nearby hotel, and Dave went to get Aimee, who was still awake and waiting for the news. He brought her back and she held her long-awaited sister for a few precious minutes before we sent her to bed. (Mom brought the boys the next morning.) Around 2:00am everyone else gave me hugs and said good-bye, and then Dave and I curled up in bed with our new daughter. We had been so tired all night long, but we were suddenly unable to go to sleep as we stared at her sleeping soundly. It still seemed so unreal that she was there - that the previous morning we hadn't known she was coming, and now she was with us. Dave finally went to sleep a little after 3:00, and it took me longer, but I knew I could sleep later. It was just so amazing to look at my little girl.
That little girl is now waking, and this story has to have an end eventually, so I'll conclude it here! I want to explain her name, but we'll save that for a later post. Off to feed her now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)