Create to Create

Does anyone else feel like they were designed to create something, but you haven't figured out what that something is yet? There have been seasons in life when different creative outlets have held my interest for a time. I really enjoyed creating handmade greeting cards for several years. That was mostly during the years when my job didn't require much creativity. And most recently I tried my hand at Beachbody Coaching. I really enjoyed creating content for the first couple of challenge groups I hosted, and the inspiring and motivating posts on social media were fun for awhile. But one outlet I've always enjoyed and rarely get bored with is writing. Writing out my thoughts to work through hard concepts, writing poems, creating picture books for my husband, etc. Hence the existence of this blog. It's the reason I wrote poems for each of my sisters' bachelorette parties and for the "toast" my older sister and I read together at our baby sis's wedding. And why I may decide to start writing my thoughts out here again. I'm not sure it's "the thing" I'm designed to do, but it may be just what I need right now to satisfy my need to create. Even if no one reads it, it's helpful for me to get my thoughts out into the world rather than stuck inside my head or just my computer. It's also nice to get feedback sometimes, positive or negative or even neutral. And if what I write resonates with just one person, in the words of Rachel Hollis, then it's worth putting it out into the world.

My Breastfeeding Journey

I took time to read most of "The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding" this pregnancy; something I did NOT have time to do the first go around. With studying for a master's & writing a final project, reading other assigned birth class materials, and being in the third trimester & doing daily exercises to prepare for birth, I was lucky to accomplish everything I did. It's hard to tell if reading the book would have truly been beneficial in overcoming the breastfeeding issues we experienced with baby #1. But the amount of what-if's, if only's, & frustration with the medical community that resurfaced after reading just part of the first chapter was slightly overwhelming. So I thought I'd take some time to reflect and record some of my experience with breastfeeding Judah and now Manaen.

After Judah was born, he immediately took to the breast. We were told he was a "barracuda" & he was affectionately called Judah the Barracuda. It's a term reserved for babies who appear to nurse very vigorously and act as though they can't get enough.  Little did we know at the time that he was behaving that way because he was actually very hungry and was not being nourished. He was likely exerting more calories trying to nurse than he was transferring and intaking from the breast. He would often fall asleep at the breast, not because he was satisfied, but because he was exhausted. I was told to try and keep him awake by poking and prodding. He was trying to preserve his strength. 

We were in the hospital for nearly three whole days. He was observed at the breast by two or three lactation consultants, and various nurses. One night he was continually breastfeeding and would hardly sleep, so a nurse thought he was "cluster feeding," & let him suck on her gloved finger for awhile so Brad and I could get some sleep. I didn't know what cluster feeding was. She said not to worry...he knows where the milk comes from and won't get confused. Huh?

Meanwhile, the doctors began to worry about his weight loss. He lost nearly 10% of his birth weight and didn't show signs of gaining any back before we were sent home. A day after we went home, my milk supply came in and I was seriously engorged. Judah was not draining me on his own, & quite frankly I was scared of using the pump. I didn't know how it worked, if I had the right size breast covers, or if I should use the tubes that were not sterile (I was given the pump barely used from a friend, but used, nonetheless, and had not bought new tubes yet). We gave it a go one evening to try to give me some relief, but it was uncomfortable and weird and I just knew my nipples would never recover from that torture device that stretched them way too far into the suction cup for my comfort. I was also mistakenly afraid it would take all my milk and I wouldn't have any left for Judah and I just knew he'd be hungry again before my body restocked the milk counter. So I only let the machine run until it got the milk flowing and then I quit. That was a huge mistake. I didn't call my doula to ask for advice, either. I didn't think about it being something she could assist us with. Sleep deprivation will do incredible things to your ability to think clearly. 

Judah had a weight check the day after we returned home. And then again two days later. The day in between I tried to go to the lactation clinic, but a mishap with the stroller in the parking lot caused me to just go back home. Again, sleep deprivation clouds your judgment. So the day of the second weight check, I went first to the lactation clinic. The nurse immediately suggested that Judah could be tongue tied. She told me he'd lost so much weight that she HAD TO give him formula, by law, to supplement. I was devastated. I did not want to introduce formula so early to my child. She hugged me and prayed with me and let me know it would all be alright, but I was still angry and so very frustrated.

We saw a different doctor that day at the weight check who considered that he might be tongue tied, but she wasn't convinced. My doula was with me that day and she helped me contact a dentist who specialized in diagnosing and treating tongue tied babies. Judah was also scheduled for a testicular ultrasound this day to see if both testicles could be located. Why this appointment could not wait until a later time, I do not know. I didn't question anything, I just trusted the medical professionals and did what they asked. By this point I was scared they were going to take my baby from me because he was not being properly nourished. But I was also soooo tired and soooo tired of going to appointment after appointment when all I wanted was to be at home resting and trying to nurse some weight back onto my baby. I knew the stress was not helping matters.

After the lactation appointment I called my older sister and practically begged her to come stay the next week while I tried to get this whole supplemental nursing system down. Fortunately she was working a job that allowed her to come for a couple of days. So over that weekend I continued to nurse but also used the SNS at the breast, because the lactation clinic is not only in support of breast milk, but also nursing, for the psychological and physical benefits for the baby. Looking back, I think the SNS only spoiled Judah and caused him to not have to work as hard for his food. My supply dwindled because he was not sucking hard enough to get as much milk from me as formula from the SNS. I would much rather give my baby the nutrients of breast milk first, and then give the formula from a bottle, if I had to do it again. Or I'd try to pump and supplement with breast milk instead.  I did start doing that once I figured out that was an option and the SNS was just becoming too much of a pain to deal with. Nursing in public that way is pretty much impossible. And it made nursing feel like a chore and a frustration rather than an enjoyable bonding experience. Getting a baby to latch properly in the few couple weeks is hard enough without also trying to properly position a tube in their mouth...ugh! 

The following Monday is when his tongue tie was diagnosed. I sat in a waiting area with two other moms who were there with newborns having the procedure done the same day. They both had horror stories from their first births and one was clearly already in a lot of pain from her most recent babe who was nursing with a tied tongue. Fortunately, I was not physically suffering myself in that way from Judah's nursing. They had each gone MONTHS with tongue tied babies their first time around with cracked and bleeding nipples and babies who wanted to nurse 24/7. I considered myself blessed that we'd caught it so early. 

The next day Judah was scheduled for yet another weight check. I begged the doctor's nurse to just let me wait a day since he was tongue tied and I was trying to up my milk supply. I knew running off to another appointment in between feedings was not going to help. I felt extremely judged over the phone. I told her I promised to go to the lactation clinic and he would be weighed there. They finally gave in and said the clinic could call the weight over to them. On one of the days he had a weight check scheduled, I was struggling to get out the door due to an ill timed diaper blowout. I called and asked if I could come a bit later. The appointment was originally scheduled at 1:30pm. I was told that if I was not there by 1:45 they would reschedule. I asked, "So if I arrive at 1:46 the doctor won't see me?" I was told that was correct. I buzzed over there as fast as I could, and called again from a stoplight on the way to promise I was coming. I walked in at 1:45. Mind you, I was also still recovering from a fairly brutal delivery and in pain and hormonal sweating after walking up the stairs to the office because it was faster than waiting on the elevator. The receptionist said to me, "You made it. With one minute to spare!" Oh. My. Word.  No compassion. None. 

This is the same doctor who told me later down the road that it was poor medical judgment to delay his vaccination schedule. I knew after doing some research that the schedule was made for the sake of convenience rather than safety, and to better ensure that parents would get all the recommended shots without having to make multiple visits. I was terrified of introducing multiple vaccines (I think it's EIGHT drugs in 4 shots) all at once to his tiny body, and I couldn't fathom why I would not be allowed to choose a different vaccination schedule. It wasn't that I was anti-vax, I just didn't want to do them all at once! So...I was "fired" as a patient that day and told to go elsewhere. It was humiliating and I was in tears in the doctor's office. I really liked my doctor for myself, and I'd made assumptions that she would be a good choice for my child. I was wrong. 

I think sometime around two months old is when I just started breastfeeding and then following up with a bottle of formula. Around 3 months old I returned to work, so I was nursing once in the morning, pumping at work, then nursing once in the evening, feeding the pumped milk via a bottle, and then nursing 1-2 times overnight. Then Judah started sleeping through the night pretty consistently around 4 months old, which meant I was only nursing 1-2 times a day, if that. My supply dwindled even further. If I woke up overnight, I would get up and pump, but I was usually only getting 1-2 ounces at a time, which hardly felt worth it. I just kept telling myself the antibodies and other immune building proteins in breast milk were better than anything found in formula, and probably more highly concentrated because my supply was so low. 

Around 6 months old, I quit my job. Judah was exclusively being bottle fed at that point and one of my breasts had dried up entirely. I soon discovered that it was much easier to pump while at work than at home with a baby. So shortly after quitting my job I also quit pumping. I had no breast milk stored away because I never had enough to do so and I was feeding him everything I pumped the day of or day after pumping it. It was disappointing to only make it that long, and to be limping along at that, but I knew I had done my best with the resources and knowledge and patience I had. 

Manaen, much like Judah, appeared to be doing fairly well with nursing in the beginning. His latch wasn't tremendous, and I suspected a possible upper lip tie, but was reassured he looked fine by the pediatrician and nurses. The day after he was born, he nursed within every hour from 10am-2am the next morning. At that point I requested a pacifier because I was exhausted. The round the clock nursing was clue #1 something was wrong. He was still having plenty of wet diapers. However, there is research showing that in the first four days of life outside the womb, the number of wet and poopy diapers are not indicative of how well the baby is being nourished since they're still expelling what they'd received from the placenta.  The day after we took him home, I noticed his wet diapers were very orange and/or pink in color.  I did some research and realized that was a sign of dehydration.  My momma heart melted and panicked all at the same time. I got the pump out and expressed some colostrum and had a good cry with my husband, fearful that I was not going to be able to exclusively breastfeed this time either.  We spooned Manaen some of my expressed milk.

I contacted a woman who worked for the doctor who'd released Judah's ties and asked for advice on what I should do. She said she no longer worked for him, but she was very encouraging and said she thought it sounded like he was having transfer issues. I'd already researched a doctor in Missouri who could do a consultation and laser revision if necessary. She was familiar with the clinic I'd researched and encouraged me to contact them first thing in the morning.  My nipples started feeling tender that evening...another indication something was wrong. We were able to get his lip and tongue revised two days later, and followed up with a pediatric chiropractor/cranial sacral therapist the same day.  Two days later at his 1 week appointment, he'd already gained 6 oz since the revision! Proof positive that the lip tie was holding him back.

I ended up with a fairly painful open crack on one of my nipples, and the creams and ointments were doing nothing for it. I finally decided to go braless as much as possible for a couple of days, and then I finally felt and saw some improvement.  Manaen has made incredible weight gains, and at 2 months old he's already put on over 6 pounds from his discharge weight. He looks much like I did when I was a baby: a chunky monkey! I think we know who will be winning wrestling matches in the future if he and his brother continue along their respective growth patterns.

I recently stumbled upon the Fed Is Best website, and I've read some sad stories of what can happen to babies who are not properly nourished. And parts of their stories remind me of my first week or two with Judah.  Sometimes the "Breast is Best" concept is taken too far, as it was in Judah's case. The reality is that nutritionally, breast MILK is best, regardless of how it enters their mouth.  I would have much preferred that he receive only breast milk, even if it was coming from a bottle. But I was just doing as the nurses recommended and was blindly following what I thought was good advice. I feel as though Manaen is my redemption story, my do-over, my second chance. And although he's just about the crankiest baby I'd ever want to deal with, I'm proud of the fact that I've been able to breastfeed him very successfully, and overcome a few of the pitfalls I experienced with Judah. The first time I nursed Manaen in public, I felt so empowered, and it was a wonderfully refreshing experience.

Regardless of how one chooses to feed their baby, a mother's dignity needs to remain intact. A mother's desires need to be explored more thoroughly before feeding decisions are made for her and her baby. The medical community as a whole needs to be better educated about tongue and lip ties also, and how they can affect breastfeeding and a baby's ability to transfer milk successfully and painlessly for the mother. I felt as though formula was forced on us the first time around. Knowing what I know now, I realize it likely would have been possible to avoid it. But it was because of those hurdles and the connections I made through that experience that I was able to overcome those same hurdles with my second child.

In conclusion, I just want to say that I write all this with the hope that at least one mother can benefit from it. Motherhood can be a very humbling experience, but it can also be empowering.  I pray the latter is true the majority of the time for the majority of women!

Manaen's Birth Story

I'd been thinking all throughout this pregnancy that we would likely end up with a February baby since my due date was January 30 and our firstborn, Judah, was 10 days over.  Another thing we kept saying was that we hoped we would make it to our hospital of choice, which was about 90 minutes away if you drive the speed limit, don't encounter any slow moving farm vehicles, and the weather is clear.  But babies have their own agendas and come when they want or need to arrive.  We chose said hospital because they have two certified nurse midwives who practice there, and it's a designated "Baby Friendly Facility." I wanted to have another drug free and intervention free birth like I'd had before, & felt my chances for that were greater at that facility.  And to be honest, our local hospital employs a lot of familiar faces and I would have preferred to be treated anonymously! 

On January 25, Judah was getting over some diarrhea and he'd had a few vomiting episodes the two days prior. So it was only natural that I would come down with a similar bug.  Around 5:30 that evening I started vomiting while Brad was at church picking up some dinner. I texted him to come home quick because I was hurling and still had Judah to take care of.  I am a violent puker, just throwing that out there, and when that first round hit it was extremely forceful. To make matters worse, I have an extremely sensitive throat.  That flap that closes off the windpipe when swallowing tends to close and stay closed for longer periods of time than is necessary any time a piece of food or any liquid unexpectedly lands on it and "surprises" it.  So I pretty much feel as though I'm going to suffocate any time I vomit because I lose the ability to easily inhale for what feels like an eternity.  This is a direct result of nerve damage I suffered during thyroid surgery several years ago. I thought I was going to die the first time I tried to take a drink after surgery and my throat closed up. It's not fun, and I feel much better when another human being, preferably a capable adult, is nearby when this happens, even though there's nothing they can do.  Anyway...I wanted Brad to come home ASAP.  Pretty much every half hour or so after that I was on the toilet with my bucket in hand.

Around midnight I started puking up green bile after several rounds of yellow bile throughout the night.  And I had completely lost my voice sometime during the evening due to all the acid and retching.  Another side effect of the thyroid surgery nerve damage is vocal chords that don't meet in the middle...only one side of my chords can move independently and the other side is stationary. Being extremely irritated, they stop producing any sound at all. So with no voice, at 12:53AM I called the on call number for the hospital we'd been visiting for our prenatal care. I woke Brad up at that time, thinking he may have to translate for me since my voice was only a whisper. I ended up speaking (whispering) for myself, but he at least overheard my end of the call and knew what was going on.  I was connected to a nurse in the ER and I asked her if I should be concerned that I was 39 weeks pregnant and puking up nothing but green bile and having near clear liquid bowel movements. TMI, I know... The nurse assured me that as long as I was feeling the baby move and didn't have a fever that there was really nothing they could do for me, but I was welcome to come in to be monitored if I desired.  

I decided to make myself some hot peppermint tea to soothe my throat, and sit still for awhile and feel for baby.  Sometime during the next hour I realized that contractions were coming fairly consistently. I started timing them at 3-4 minutes apart. Over time they seemed to increase in intensity a bit as well, but nothing that was stopping me in my tracks. However, I wasn't feeling the baby move much in between contractions, so I informed Brad that I thought we should maybe go in to the local hospital just to be safe, but I still wasn't convinced (was in denial) I was actually in labor.  He was starting to feel really ill by that point, and we called my parents at 2:24AM to let them know they needed to come over.  I sent a text to Joanann, my unofficial doula, at 2:27 to let her know we were going in and she could meet us there if she wanted. 

At 2:39 I had one last bout of diarrhea and then my bag of waters broke right there over the toilet bowl, which was rather convenient! It saved me from having to change my clothes! I sent my mom and Joanann a text at 2:40 to let them know.  Because I was so dehydrated by then, I think my amniotic fluid was not replenishing as readily as it would have been had I been hydrated. So contractions started ramping up in intensity pretty quickly. When that water cushion between the uterine wall and baby is gone, contractions are much more noticeable for me. The same thing happened when Judah's water broke.  Brad wanted to drive me to the hospital, but when he stood up to get dressed he turned white and had to sit down again. It was clear that my mom was going to have to go with me instead. I was breaking out in a sweat by then (I was probably in transition), which Brad noticed and mentioned. 

My parents arrived shortly and got my hospital bag moved from our car to theirs, we put a seat protector on the car seat even though I was wearing a pad and not really losing much fluid, and mom and I headed to the hospital. I started feeling "pushy" on the way, but did my best to breathe through each contraction and ignore the urge. There were probably only two contractions in the car since the hospital is only 4 miles away.  I was able to walk into the ER between contractions and sign the release for treatment. A young male nurse got me a wheelchair and we told him to hurry since I was wanting to push already. He wheeled us up to OB and put us in a room. The woman in labor next door was hollering for an epidural. We were put in a shared med-surge room since there were a slew of babies being born that night. The room was ill-equipped for a delivery. It was supposed to be used only as an overflow recovery room I believe. 

I immediately started removing my pants, much to the surprise of the young male nurse. I thought, "this isn't my first rodeo, buddy...I'm getting prepared!" He said something like, "well, the nurses will be in shortly," took the wheelchair, and left the room. I laid down on the bed on my left side and tried to relax. Our midwife had told me that often with second births the left side is a good option for delivery as it reduces the risk of tearing and is overall a good position for baby as well.  Mom started rubbing my back and Joanann arrived and took over and provided some counterpressure on my lower back.  Mom got a cool washcloth for my forehead at my request.  Joanann kept encouraging me not to push and to just breathe it out through my mouth. I told her the baby felt like he was halfway out already. She tried to assure me that he was not, but I knew he was right there ready to make his appearance. A nurse did the [un]necessary cervical check at some point and realized they were going to need a doctor soon, so they called one up from ER.

I was supposed to receive antibiotics through an IV prior to delivery, but just as one of the nurses was preparing to stick me, at 3:23AM, Baby boy's head made a full appearance. I was quite unaware of what was going on, but apparently the cord was tight around his neck and he came out somewhat blue.  It was pulled so tight that it had to be cut before the rest of his body could emerge. I was rather disappointed to learn they cut the cord so early until mom and Joanann explained that it was necessary. I was able to push him out completely after that. And then I was laying in a cesspool of warm bodily fluids because i was not on a delivery bed.  Ew. It slowly was absorbed into the sheets and mattress covers. More on that later.  

There was no crying at first. I was still on my side and unable to see anything, but Joanann told me they were working to "revive, I mean stimulate" him!! He ended up under a heat lamp with an oxygen mask while a nurse pressed a button on the mask to force air into his lungs. Finally he started to cry at some point and there was a collective sigh of relief.  Somewhere in there, the ER doctor arrived, said he thought it looked like things were under control, and turned around and left the room. Eventually the on call OB arrived as well.  She wanted to give me a shot of pitocin to help the uterus contract, but I refused, and the placenta came out just fine on its own and there wasn't any major bleeding detected. With no drugs, this ought to be a fairly low hospital bill! ;) Yeah, right...

One of the nurses started cleaning me up and I had to tell her in a forceful whisper, "be gentle!" She was wiping rather aggressively in an area that felt very near to where I'd just forced out an 8 pound mass! The OB, whom I'd never met (sound familiar? See Judah's birth story), said I had about a second degree tear right over my previous scar from Judah. Fortunately there was no internal tearing this time, and her stitch job wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as the previous one, probably because half the tissue was scar tissue. I did, however, request to have the baby placed on my chest at that point so that I would have a pleasant distraction during the procedure. He was breathing well on his own by then and they brought him to me. 

Mom sent Brad a text message around 3:37 to let him know all was well and baby was here. We had not decided on a first name yet at the time I left for the hospital. We thought we had a name chosen until I started having second thoughts a week or two prior. We knew we wanted Donald as a middle name because, just like Judah's middle name, it comes from both sides of our family tree. Manaen is a name that I suggested very early on, but we tossed around several other ideas as well. Our Sunday school class was reading through Acts early in our pregnancy and the name caught my eye the morning we read Acts 13 and I decided to look it up. It only appears in the Bible in one verse: Acts 13:1, and it means comforter, leader.  So after learning that baby was here, Brad sent me a text to say he was proud of me, sorry he missed the birth, and that he thought Manaen would be a good name. Yay! We had a name! And I love that Brad made the call!  I have no idea how it's supposed to be pronounced, but if you say MAN-ay-en quickly it comes out like MAN-yen, so that's how we're saying it! So now both boys have a Biblical first name and a family middle name. :)

Joanann was awesome and stayed with me throughout my time at the hospital since Brad was so sick.  Since I was never moved to a different room, I stayed on the bed that I'd delivered on.  The nurses had covered it with mattress protectors, but there was still moisture seeping up through the sheet in a few places. Ew. The sheets were changed a second time, but still the same bed was left.  Eventually (I think it was the following day!?) I received a new bed after the house supervisor realized I had not been given a replacement bed.  Overall I felt the care we received was adequate.  I was surprised by how many times Manaen was removed from the room by the nurses.  When Judah was born, he never left our room. Ever. Except that one time we asked a nurse to take him for a couple hours so we could get some sleep. 

Mom and dad took Judah to an appointment at Children's Mercy the day after Manaen was born, and Joanann made a call for me to cancel my prenatal appointment scheduled the morning of his birth. It was not at all how we'd envisioned his birth, but just like with Judah's birth, it all worked out in the end. We were thankful we'd not tried to drive to our preferred hospital, because we probably would have ended up having a baby along the way, and Brad would have been forced to use his clamps and scissors he had in his bag just in case! We were blessed with a handsome and healthy baby boy, & my mom got to cross off an item from her nonexistent bucket list, as she says. I finally got my voice back when he was about 5-6 days old. Everyone who entered our room at the hospital would inevitably start whispering because I was, and I'd have to explain that it wasn't for the baby's sake that I was whispering! Having no voice was probably one of the most annoying and frustrating aspects of those first few days with a newborn, believe it or not.  

Welcome to the world, Manaen Donald! We are so thankful to God you made it here safe and healthy. 

Picture taken at two weeks and two days old

5 months later...an announcement!

I have been wanting to write for a long time now, but somehow just never find the time or inspiration. Life just never stops with a baby in the house with two full-time working parents! Judah is 5-1/2 months old already and it's hard to believe how time has flown. In some ways it feels like the longest 5 months, but in other ways I can't believe it's been that long already. He has been the best baby and we feel extremely blessed to have such a happy little guy in our home. His personality becomes more evident with each passing day, and it is so much fun to watch him make new discoveries, make new sounds, learn to laugh, etc. He recently started laughing at things he sees, such as our neighbor's poodle, or his mommy disappearing behind his crib bumper. Up to that point he really only laughed when being tickled. For several weeks now he's been sleeping longer overnight, anywhere from 8-12 hour spans. If we put him down at just the right time before he's overstimulated, he generally goes to sleep very peacefully.  And when he wakes up he rarely even cries. Most mornings we wake up to him "talking" in his crib.  So I pray he maintains his cheerful disposition in the mornings as he gets older. His daddy is a morning person and I think he takes after him when it comes to sleep! Here's a semi-recent picture of the happy little guy:

Judah doesn't know it, but he will soon become a Missourian!  Next month we will be making a big move and career change that we are so excited to share! We have been praying over this transition along with my parents and many others for quite awhile now, and "hoping" for it and discussing the idea for even longer. On May 1 we begin a new journey as Assistant Manager (Bullet) and Food Service Coordinator (me) of Grand Oaks Baptist Camp. The very place where I grew up is now where Judah will have the privilege of spending his childhood! My parents are transitioning into retirement and the board of directors has hired us to begin training to take over full time at the end of 2017.
We are thrilled to be moving closer to family and to have a built-in support system not only in my parents, but in our First Baptist Church family there, along with countless other friends! Bullet is more than ready to be working in a more physical, hands-on position again...I think he desk chair is burning holes in his back pockets. And I am more than ready to spend much more time at home with my baby!!! We are going to miss our church family terribly, as well as our coworkers! But we will have plenty of space to host visitors when anyone comes to stay with us! So make plans to come see us! We'd love to have you!
While some may view this as a step back in our "careers," or a waste of our education, we feel like nothing could be farther from the truth. Will we be making as much money? Of course not. Will we be using our degrees? Maybe not directly. But what could be better than serving the Lord and being a blessing to others seeking to do the same through camps and retreats?! We KNOW we will receive countless blessings from this move, and it is our prayer that we can also be a blessing to each individual we encounter at Grand Oaks.

We are currently in the process of preparing our house to be put on the market, which means lots of decluttering has already taken place, and lots of painting now needs to be done. The exterior is nearly complete, with only a small amount of trim painting left, but the interior has a ways to go yet.  Hopefully by the end of the month we can get it listed. So that's what has been going on with us the last few months! Hopefully you've enjoyed this update. Spring has nearly sprung and we are looking forward to the changes that it brings!

Judah's Birth Week

On September 20, 2015 I was 40 weeks and 3 days pregnant, and I was slightly concerned that afternoon about the baby's lack of movement. He wasn't responding to my pokes and prods as he normally did. After trying for over an hour to get him to move, I shared my concerns with Bullet and we made the decision to go in to the birthing center since it was a Sunday and we couldn't call our midwife.  The car ride woke the baby up and he started moving soon after we arrived, but we went ahead and had him checked out anyway. After over an hour on the monitors, it was clear that he was doing just fine. Our concerns were relieved. I was dilated to about 3cm and 70% effaced at that point. So we went back home and kept counting kicks. On September 22nd I started noticing regular contractions about 7-8 minutes apart that were lasting up to a minute each. They were still very manageable and not causing me discomfort. I was taking fairly long and brisk walks each day trying to encourage labor to progress.

On September 23rd (41 weeks) we were scheduled for a biophysical profile, an ultrasound that checks the baby's health in key areas. I was then dilated to about a 4 and still 70-80%. We were initially told the baby passed the test with a score of 8/8, but were called later and told he was given a 4/8 because his diaphragm wasn't moving as much as they like to see (...because he was sleeping).  So we were told to get another non stress test done that afternoon like what we did on that Sunday. My parents were in town by then so my mom went with me and Bullet went to work that afternoon.  The baby passed the test that afternoon but they wanted us to have another biophysical profile done the next day at a different time of day than the first. An OB was going to personally do the ultrasound this time. 

The morning of the ultrasound, Bullet and I got up early and went for a walk around 4:30AM. I couldn't sleep and wanted to try and get labor going. Halfway through our walk, a van pulled up near us and paused on the street as we walked across a driveway. I was nervous because I didn't know why the van was hesitating there. After we crossed the driveway I heard a loud smack on the driveway behind us and jumped and spun around to look. The noise was made from a newspaper slapping the concrete, but it startled me so much I nearly cursed and then turned to Bullet and said, "That scared me half to death...I'm gonna cry." And I did.  We took a moment of pause and a few deep breaths to regain my composure. I'm convinced that the shot of adrenaline shut down labor for the day because I didn't notice nearly as many contractions that day.  

Bullet stayed home from work that day because I woke him up so early and he had other things around the house he wanted to do. That afternoon we had the biophysical profile second check.  The OB (Dr. Depew) who did the ultrasound was not concerned about the baby at all and said he passed with flying colors. The original OB who reviewed the first ultrasound is one who is extra cautious according to Dr. Depew.  So we were free to go home and wait on baby.  We were thankful for this because the last thing I wanted to happen was to be forced into an induction.  I had an appointment with our midwife scheduled for September 28th if baby didn't arrive before then. Not an appointment for an induction, but possibly for some other methods to try and get labor kick-started.
On September 25th I was having regular contractions again but still able to go for 2 mile walks without much discomfort. Several people around the neighborhood made comments about how the baby had dropped and I looked like I could have him any minute. I also had one strange encounter with a guy who told me I had the most beautiful bump he'd ever seen and that my husband was a lucky guy.

That night I woke up around 1:15AM to use the bathroom and noticed contractions were coming every 4-5 minutes, but still painless. Bullet was sleeping in the living room on an air mattress because I'd taken over the whole bed at that point to make my nest of pillows each night. Around 1:45AM I felt and heard two popping sounds and felt a gush coming down inside. So I quickly got up out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I hollered at Bullet that my water broke and he quickly got up. I was standing in the bathtub at that point and told him I thought it was time we went to the hospital. Contractions were already starting to increase in intensity, and I took a quick shower while he tried to figure out which hospital we should go to. My mom started loading our bags into the car for us.

We knew that our midwife was unavailable that weekend because of her daughter's wedding, and we had been informed that her backup OB, who is very supportive of natural childbirth, would be working at a different hospital than the birthing center we'd originally planned to use. 
So after making a few phone calls and getting the run around we finally decided to just go to the hospital. We had not toured the birthing floor or ever visited the hospital prior to driving there that night. Bullet pulled into the parking lot and there were no other vehicles moving around us, but he started to slow down for a stop sign (being the good citizen and driver that he is). I slapped his arm and told him to just go!  We ended up driving around the hospital twice before landing at the ER after finding the main entrance was locked. Contractions were getting intense enough by then that they were giving me pause. Anytime a nurse would ask me a question during a contraction I would basically ignore the question until the contraction was over. I was focused on putting all my concentration into fully relaxing as much as possible during each contraction so that my uterus could do its work uninhibited. The nurses and hospital staff all seemed to understand. ;)

My doula arrived shortly after us and she did some scalp massage while we were in the initial exam/admitting room. The IV port was inserted into my arm and the initial baby monitoring was done. I was fairly comfortable still sitting upright at this point, but that soon changed after moving to the delivery room. After spending a considerable amount of time on the toilet, the nurse started the antibiotic drip (for group B strep) thru my IV while I was still in the bathroom because she couldn't wait any longer. I was told I was lucky to have a nurse who would even allow me to use the toilet, much less start my IV while still on it. Eventually I got up from the bathroom and moved toward the bed. I was encouraged to sit on a birthing ball, but the pressure was too much and it was not comfortable at all. Instead, I put the ball on the bed and leaned over it while standing for awhile. Then I moved onto the bed and leaned over/against the head of the bed while on my knees. That's where I remained until I started feeling pushy and needed to be checked again. 

I remember being asked to sign at least one document during labor, possibly two, and I remember making a wise crack about something in between contractions at one point. It's amazing how comfortable you can feel in between contractions even when the contractions are so intense. 

The resident who came in to check dilation made me lay on my back, which became extremely uncomfortable during contractions. Apparently the weirdest thing I said during labor came in those moments on my back. I'm told I said, "I'm upside down! I'm upside down!" I guess they'd lowered the head of the bed too far for my liking and I felt disoriented. All I remember is finally being able to turn over to my side and gripping the bed rail with a vengeance.  It was extremely difficult to relax while laying horizontally on my back like that. Finally after two contractions or so I was able to relax and get back into my preferred position leaning over the raised head of the bed on my knees. The contractions were coming so quickly I had what felt like very little time in between to reposition myself. I was dilated to an 8. 

All this time, my doula and my husband were rubbing my back and shoulders, breathing with me, and moaning along with me reminding me to keep the register of my voice low. My doula was also providing some counter pressure from what I'm told, though I don't remember feeling her do that! Not long after that I was feeling really pushy and they checked me again, this time from a more comfortable side lying position. I was told at that point it was ok to start pushing, so I tried it from that position for a little while, but it felt very awkward. I returned to my knees facing the head of the bed again. 
The body is an amazing machine and it was nearly impossible to resist the urge to push at that point. I was in awe of the way my body just somehow knew what to do even though it had never done this before. There were some really intense moments when I was not able to control my breathing very well because of the urge to push coming while inhaling rather than exhaling. But I can actually say I was enjoying listening to my body and following its natural instincts and pushing only to the point of comfort and not beyond. I can't imagine giving birth and being unable to feel what was happening. That uncertainty to me sounds scarier than experiencing all the feels, pain included. But that's just me...I have a fairly high tolerance for pain. You'd think otherwise when you hear me whine about a hangnail, but it's true.

At some point I decided my body was telling me I needed to turn around and squat with my back against the head of the bed. That's when I started to really feel more progress being made. When Judah started crowning my doula and the nurse told me to reach down and touch his head, which felt nothing like what I expected since he'd receded some between contractions and his scalp was wrinkled up and squishy. Once his head was about halfway out he kind of got stuck for a bit, which was extremely uncomfortable, but forcing him out any more quickly would surely have done more damage to me. The doctor we were hoping to have deliver Judah arrived around 7 am and Judah arrived at 7:16 after only an hour and a half of pushing contractions.  I ended up with a 2.5-3 degree tear with some tearing inside as well, but it was all worth it when I saw that beautiful little face and heard those first cries. 

Those 5.5 hours of active labor seemed to fly by. That's what my doula calls "baby time"...when you're only keeping track of the time during contractions and not in between. We had two wonderful nurses once the 7 am nurse arrived and the night nurse chose to stick around a few extra minutes for Judah's arrival. They were both very encouraging and were excited to assist with an all natural childbirth. I'm still amazed by what the body can do. And it's true when they say you quickly forget the pain of childbirth and that's why women have more than one child. While I'm not ready to think about that yet, I do have difficulty remembering exactly what the contractions felt like. Pregnancy is such a short period of time in the grand scheme of life; it's no wonder we soon forget. Even now some days it seems surreal that I was actually pregnant. 

Judah is such a good baby and we could not have written a better birth story than the one God wrote for us. We feel incredibly fortunate to have stumbled upon the Bradley Method of Natural Childbirth and that we were able to participate in the class and that we met our doula through it. I have no doubt the Brewer Pregnancy Diet contributed a great deal to my overall health during pregnancy and Judah's health as well. All I can say is God is good and we feel incredibly blessed! Now I would love for my husband to write out his version of the story and to compare notes. ;)