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Birthing an Embryo

15 Jun

NB: Reveals details about my recent miscarriage.

#3 started out fun. We were on vacation, our first as a family that didn’t involve other friends or family joining us. We had a much needed, great time together at the beach. We went out for seafood one night and the low country boil I ordered smelled very bad to me, and Dave and I thought, oh, hee hee, what if we’re pregnant? And then I felt pretty sick after a glass of wine, so I thought, maybe I really am!

IMG_20180502_142323175Morris Lighthouse near Folly Beach.

img_20180428_201759My boys exploring the sand and surf. Oh how I love the ocean.

We got home and my period was supposed to start. I had some cramping, but after a couple days of no Aunt Flo and some sore boobs, I took a test. I couldn’t even wait for David to get home from work, so I had to call him with the news. I was shaking with excitement and disbelief.

“We’re going to need to get me a bigger car, honey!”

img_20180509_095855050_topIt’s a blurry pic because I was literally shaking. Though Rexy doesn’t look too pleased at the prospect of being a middle sibling haha.

Fast forward a couple weeks, where we had told grandparents but no friends yet, and we enjoyed spending a couple late nights in bed talking over baby names, especially girl names. Since we had already had two boys, obviously there were no more boy names left, so we figured out some girl options.

My brother and his family came in town over Memorial Day weekend, and right as we were about to go to dinner their first night, I popped into the restroom for a quick pee. I was pregnant, after all, and had to pee all the time. I was not expecting anything abnormal, as the morning sickness was already playing a strong game all day long every day.

Blood.

Not that much, but I told Dave anyway. Most of my pregnancy symptoms seemed to vanish the moment I saw that blood. I barely slept that night, worried about the newest baby, and our little Rex was just starting to get over a double ear infection and he was up all night with a 103° fever. The next day I rested some while the rest of the crew went downtown to shop and eat lunch, and when I bailed on dinner, wanting to eat at home, my SIL was a bit confused. So I said, “Well, to be honest, I think I’m having a miscarriage right now. I’m supposed to be about 7 weeks along.” We hugged and over the next few days I gathered my strength and we had fun.

img_20180525_210142170Cousins are the best.

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Of course this had all started on a Friday night of a holiday weekend, so by Tuesday morning I called my new doc for an appointment as soon as their doors opened. I hadn’t even seen them yet, as they don’t see OB patients until at least 8 weeks, and my first appointment with them was still two weeks away. They had me come in that morning for an ultrasound check. Dave met me there to help with the boys. I had had two and a half days of spotting, mild cramping, one hour one night of heavy bleeding, no cramping, and one day of heavy spotting, no cramping.

I went in, fully expecting nothing on the screen and a diagnosis of a miscarriage. They saw a 6 week old embryo with no heartbeat and said everything looked fine, but maybe my dates were wrong for my last period? No, I said, they were accurate. They couldn’t confirm a miscarriage based on my symptoms alone, so they sent me off with a “threatened miscarriage” diagnosis and told me to come back in a week for another ultrasound to see if anything had changed. I was very happy that they were caring and professional about it all even though I wasn’t an established patient. They offered for me to come in multiple times that week for HCG testing, but after all the blood tests I took during the IUI for Rex, I opted to just come in in a week and see if the baby had grown any more. It wouldn’t have changed the outcome either way and it seemed like only more hassle for me.

Queue heavy cramping as soon as I left the doctor’s office. Literally started in the parking lot while sitting in my car. That day I continued to only have heavy spotting, so I was on the fence about having hope. I did have a dream that night that the baby would survive and she was a girl and we named her Penelope Grace.

The next morning I woke up with no cramping and no bleeding. So I vacuumed the house. And then the cramping began. It was pretty severe; then the bleeding started. And oh the clots that came out! After an hour or so of this I started getting afraid to go to the bathroom. Luckily David was able to come home early from work and take care of the boys while I ran from the bed to the bathroom. This continued for about 2.5 hours and then it stopped completely. No more cramping. Barely any blood. I felt great, surprisingly, but knew that the end had come for #3. Dave made me a batch of dirty rice for dinner that night, which I was craving, and it’s the only thing I wanted to eat for the next three days. Bowls of that with a cup of milk, and a banana for dessert.

We agreed David would go back to work, and I took the boys to the grocery store and the library. Upon returning home, I started severely cramping again, the pain much more intense than it had been the day before, even though I wasn’t bleeding as much. I called David home again, took some ibuprofen and sat in bed with a heating pad. I didn’t get out of bed for the rest of the night. The off and on severe pain and bleeding continued for the rest of the weekend. One night I had a mild fever and I was concerned I was getting an infection, though my OB later told me she had never had a patient get an infection from a miscarriage (I had gotten one post-Walter’s birth so I was concerned about that).

img_20180602_102033227Doughnut treats while all this was going on.

img_20180603_121711787Grandparents came to visit to make sure we were all doing okay. It’s nice to have an OB MIL during times like this!

I went back to the doctor’s office on Monday morning for my ultrasound and nothing was there this time. Even though I had been prepared for that, it was very sad to see. I’m glad I could have that visual confirmation though, because despite everything, there was a tiny bit of hope inside me that some miracle had happened and the baby was going to be okay.

The whole experience was very surreal. After it taking two years and fertility treatments to get pregnant with Rex, I wasn’t expecting to get pregnant again so quickly, if at all, even though with Walter it had happened right away. I was still trying to wrap my head around there being a #3 when we lost the baby. In only a few short weeks I had been excited, terrified, in love, and even relieved to not have to be sick all summer during first trimester. It was a lot to process.

Dave says that I knew from the beginning that it wouldn’t work out. I was very cautious and kept saying, “If anything happens, at least we know we can get pregnant again without intervention.” It’s almost as if my pregnancy symptoms came on too strong and too fast for me to be comfortable believing in the pregnancy. Even though I have successfully made two tiny humans before, the whole process seems like magic and my fertility journey completely confounds me. I have no idea what would happen if we try again. Pregnant in a couple months? Never pregnant? Lots of miscarriages? There is no way of knowing, but oh such is life, and that’s the fun of it.

I alternate between sadness and peace every day. The baby had it’s own DNA (though most likely DNA that wasn’t quite right for this world), but I don’t think it ever had a heartbeat, which somehow relieves to me. Dave and I have grown closer during this time, which is the silver lining and blessing of the whole experience.

All in all I bled for about 2.5 weeks, and my morning sickness tapered and finished after a week. I thought because it was so early on that it would feel like a heavy period, but it was really a mix between the worst period of my life and a birth. I’ve come through this feeling very grateful to be able to connect with my friends who have had miscarriages themselves, for they helped me immensely while I was stuck in bed hurting. There should definitely be miscarriage doulas!

img_0206These guys! They, and their dad, are the lights of my life.

I’ve decided to use this as a wake up call to get fit and have already started working out and eating even healthier. I feel better than I have in a long time, and I like knowing that if the universe decides I should have another child (because really, what control do we have in this crazy thing we call life), I’ll be the best person I can for the experience. And if not, I’ll be a healthier, happier person besides.

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A Little Mommycation!

3 May

A month ago I got to go on a little trip to Asheville, NC.

IMG_20170408_223427_508Yay don’t we look happy! I was actually a bit disgruntled until this picture because we hadn’t come up with a good plan of what we wanted to do and had pretty much aimlessly wandered around downtown Asheville to no avail. Thank god for the beautiful scenery.

This trip was a little present for surviving two whole weekends home alone with the kids while my husband traveled — once for work, and once for fun. I felt like SuperWife saying, “Yeah, no problem, go hiking with your friends out of cell phone range while I take care of the 4 year old and 2 month old!”

When W was three months old, I was barely able to make it outside to the front porch. It amazes me the difference in my ability to cope with a baby now versus then (though Rex’s personality is way more chill than W was as a baby). For example, we didn’t take Walter to a restaurant for dinner until he was six months old (and we were exhausted and overwhelmed by the experience). Rex, however, by three months old, had been in six different states.

Both weekends alone with the kids presented different challenges. The first weekend Dave was available by text and phone, but all grandparents were out of town, and I was also dog-sitting my mom’s sweet pups Tashi. Just to make life more fun, the dogs were throwing up around the house, the cat got a bladder infection, Tashi got a couple hot spots that needed frequent attention, and Rex had one of his worst night’s sleep ever. There might have been some crying around 3am one night, and it wasn’t the 2 month old.

The second weekend all grandparents were in town, and we hung out with them, but Dave couldn’t be reached 98% of the time. This is very unusual for us as we have seen each other almost every single day since we met (literally), and we also talk a lot anyway. I had an upsetting dinner Friday night, so I spent almost the entire weekend getting depressed and unable to talk it out with my husband. And then Sunday morning I started reading a really psychologically crazy book The Hike for our book club, making me further nosedive. It took me until Wednesday to get out of my funk.

Hence, a little trip for mommy.

IMG_20170409_113322_732 - CopyHoly crap the chicken and waffles are good at King Daddy’s. We both got the sweet potato habanero sauce on our chicken. Perfecto!

IMG_20170409_100446269Walter loved the crayon bucket.

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We returned to a “favorite” — Juicy Lucy’s — for dinner Saturday night. It was yum but the boys were tired (although cute as always).

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We really are mountain-loving people.

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Soothes the soul to see all this land.

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I wanted to go hiking before we came home. The views were fantastic, but I probably won’t be back to Chimney Rock again. I love climbing mountains, but this was a staircase bolted onto the side of a mountain. And you drive halfway up the mountain on harrowing roads just to get to the bottom of the staircase (which you pay a ton to “climb”). My fear of heights did not enjoy this very much. My legs and brain were jelly so the baby and I didn’t climb the last two staircases to the very top. But my other boys did!

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A boy and his American flag. He’s the most patriotic kid I know.

 

Finding God Within

1 Apr

I hesitate to use the name “God” because I know so many people who are atheist or agnostic or other religions (and where I land on that scale I don’t quite know), but I think we all at least believe in the magic of the universe. And that’s really what I’m talking about too, because it truly is magical that we’re all here.

I came home from the hospital with my newest little boy, somewhat ready to take on the world as a mom of two. I was feeling much better than I did after W’s birth. But of course, there had to be something that humbled me.

With Walter, he cried and turned a horrible shade of red. This sounds jokingly easy in retrospect. I had thought I was a baby guru. I had babysat and nannied for babies 3mo+ since I was 12 (so for about 16 years). I thought I knew what I was doing. But oh how I cried when he cried, because newborns are way tinier than babies that have had three months of growing under their belts. And let’s give a little credit to raging post-partum hormones too.

With Rex, I was determined not to get so upset when we got home that I wanted back in the horrible place we call a hospital. But my first humbling experience with him was much worse.

He shivered and shook almost constantly starting (of course) as soon as we got home. He had done it a few times in the hospital, and I had asked the pediatrician about it. I didn’t trust that the ped commented on what I was talking about though, because he said, “Oh it’s OK, the baby calms down when you soothe him and the shaking stops.” But this wasn’t shaking related to crying. This was awake, asleep, happy, upset, constant little tremors. And babies that little don’t shiver from cold temperatures.

I was resolved, after wasting so much of my sleep time when Walter was a newborn, not to lose myself in Google researching everything bad that can happen to a baby. But I had to find out what it was! Did we need to go back to the hospital? What was going on? And Google pretty much said it could either be a) pee shakes, b) nothing, or c) horrible, irreversible neurological problems.

I don’t think I cried (yet), but inside I was full of fear. After a few hours of this and talking over our options with Dave, I took my baby into his nursery and sat in the glider in the low sunlight of the winter afternoon. I held him and I rocked him and I spoke to him and for the first time ever, I said, “Dear God, please take care of this boy. Whatever is going on I give it to you. He is your boy that you have given to me to take care of, and I love him. Please keep him safe.”

Turns out he stopped his shivering almost as soon as my milk came in, so we think it was low blood sugar. But sitting there with him was a life changing moment for me, when I fully felt the universe hold us in its arms. The universe decided to take care of us at that moment, and I’m grateful. I have the happiest little baby full of joy and smiles that I could only have ever hoped for.

IMG_20170330_212107_613Springtime outside as well as in the heart. I love how these boys love nature.

Round 2

10 Feb

This time pretty much couldn’t be more different than the first time, except it’s still a story of Mama Johnston having a little boy. I am definitely more prepared, having gone through it before, but having my husband stay home for three weeks made all the difference in the world. We also had lots of grandparent help. So while I was busy getting my physical footing again after the marathon months of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum, we were all getting looked after. And as it turns out, I didn’t need to be scared about how Rex would fit in to our family. He, and we, transitioned like he was always meant to be with us, was always with us.

And I’m so glad he is here.

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Taking the boys to the playground when he’s six days old. With Walter I had a hard time making it to our front porch the first couple months.

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Everyone needed their hairs trimmed, and we even made it on time! When I had Walter, Laura made a house call for the first trim I needed postpartum.

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First sushi in 9 months at Ra with Dave’s coworkers.

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Walter is the best big brother. He loves soothing Rex when the baby cries and singing him songs to make him happy.

And then David went back to work. I was scared. I cried the morning he left, missing him more than I’d ever missed him before. Those three weeks with him at home were the best three weeks of my life.

But I forced myself to get out of the house (thank goodness for W), and we got to storytime at our local library. I even cleaned the house when we got home.

img_20170130_112402555Homeschooling benefits me as much as Walt!

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Walter also started a computer class – this month’s theme is Lego robotics – that first week Dave was back at work. I swear this kid turned into a teenager when we were busy blinking.

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Rex even came with us to Couples Book Club. Here he is meeting Uncle Luke.

img_20170209_140314042We haven’t slowed down at all — thank goodness Rex is a fairly good sleeper already (though I still haven’t gotten more than four hours straight in a month). Having so many activities scheduled is a bit difficult, but I get to meet up with friends too, which is very important for new mommy sanity.

I feel a little drained, and I wish with all my heart that David could still be at home with us, but we’re more than surviving. We’re having a blast.

Channeling Ina May: Rex’s Birth Story

19 Jan

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All week – longer – I was having “symptoms” of impending labor, but nothing would come of it. I knew from my doula that second babies were like that, so I just decided to be patient. This patience was made easier by the fact that I was terrified to give birth again from pretty much the moment of conception. When I got pregnant with Walter, I knew from the beginning he’d come early. I had a feeling my entire pregnancy, and I was right. With little Rex, I had no idea when he would come. For all I knew, he could be two weeks late instead of one week early. As it turns out, I cooked him exactly the same amount of time that I cooked Walter: one day shy of precisely nine months.

Once the weather reports started coming in that a snow/ice storm would arrive on Friday, David started predicting that that would be the day I would have baby boy #2. He knew he’d have to drive to the hospital in harrowing conditions, and he told everyone that the whole week. On Thursday I met my mother for lunch and to exchange Walter so he could have a night with his Nini. After that I met my friend Sophia for a walk to a coffee shop at the High Museum for a latte. I was hoping a walk would stimulate the baby to come, plus it was a very pretty, but cold, day.

Thursday night I had several contractions in the middle of the night, and I thought upon waking that I would have to tell Dave not even to bother going in to work that day. But, I didn’t have any more once I woke up, so I thought it was another no-go day. I lounged around with the kitty, staying warm, and spent some time with the jigsaw puzzle we got for Christmas. Dave luckily had a short day due to the storm, and he went to go pick up Walter from my mom’s. Walter had been sick all night and day, so shortly before they arrived home around 4:30pm, I was at the grocery store getting sick-kid supplies. The self-check-out attendant asked me if I was going to have a baby soon, and I said, “Any day! My due date is in five days!” I had no idea that in reality he would be out seven hours later.

I got home and fed Walter some chicken soup that David made. We sat and watched TV and tended to the sick boy, who after some soup, ginger ale, and Pediasure made a somewhat miraculous recovery. As I sat on the couch with him, I started having really random contractions around 5pm. Every time one came (and they weren’t bad or long) I would say, “Dave, there’s another,” and he would look at me with excitement. The way things had been starting and stopping for days just like this, I didn’t believe anything was really going to happen, especially since they were ranging from 6 to 45 minutes apart and lasting for about 30 seconds.

I decided to take a bath to see if that would ramp things up or slow things down. My doula said that and a big glass of water would be good to evaluate labor. I had a couple contractions when I first got in the tub, but then nothing for a while. I got out and told Dave I was going to go lie down for a minute to get some rest, around 8pm. Starting then, I had one contraction every ten minutes. Lying on my side, holding my belly, I decided to tell my baby, “You can come now; we can do this” which I repeated throughout each contraction like a meditation. I was tired of fearing birth and figured I just needed to get it over with. I was also pretty much sleeping in between each contraction. It was a nice 30 minutes.

At the end of the third contraction like this, I heard and felt a “POP” inside of my uterus. I thought to myself, “Hm, was that my water breaking?”. I hoped it was because otherwise that sound would be a bit terrifying. With Walter, my water hadn’t broken until the L&D nurse broke it for me while I was pushing, so I had no idea what it was like. I hurried out of the bed (well, as fast as I could at 9 months pregnant), wondering if water would stream out of me. I felt a little bit come out and went to check it out in the bathroom. Nothing too much happened, but peeing on myself is not one of my pregnancy symptoms, so I called my doula to ask her about it. I was sitting on the bed cross legged, and she said to lay down for ten minutes. If when I sit back up again it drips or flows out, that’s my water. After the call, I stood up to change underwear, and a lot came out. I texted her back and then called Dave into the room to tell him what had happened. He got super excited and finished packing his hospital bag. I hadn’t had another contraction since my water breaking, so I told him he didn’t need to call his mom to set the Walter plan in motion. I wanted labor to truly start because I felt it might slow down if we started any action plans too early. I didn’t want anyone watching me, waiting for another contraction that may or may not come. However, I did call my midwife group to tell them what had happened. They weren’t concerned about me coming in right away because my fluid was clear, but the weather was getting worse outside. I said I’d come in probably sooner rather than later, since the hospital was 30 minutes away. I didn’t feel too bad yet, but I was thinking the sooner we got the drive out of the way, the better.

My contractions took a break while I had made all my calls, but they started again soon after, and were much more intense than before my water had broken. I wasn’t timing them, but to me they seemed to come every couple of minutes and not last very long. Soon enough though, I had one or two with pressure, and I thought to myself, “Oh my! That happened fast!” So I called David back to the room and said, “You need to get Walter to bed now, and call your mom to get here.” His dad ended up coming with her, which at first I didn’t want, but it turned out to be a blessing that he was there to stay with Walter, because Mimi came with us to the hospital.

img_20170106_2135434471Getting Walter ready for bed during labor!

By the time we got Walter in bed (and I sang him two sunshine songs in between my contractions), I was really ready to go. Mimi asked if we wanted her to ride with us. At this point, I was a little worried about having the baby in the car, because I was definitely feeling pressure during some contractions, so I said yes. We all climbed in, walking through slippery ice in the carport, around 9:30pm. During the drive my contractions kept up. They were short and intense. Mimi would ask me how I was doing or hand me water when I asked for it, and David was busy driving through the slush and sleet. I kept telling him to drive slowly and carefully, because to me he seemed to drive fast and swerve around other slower cars. At one especially long light, both my husband and my MIL wanted to run the red light, but I kept telling them they didn’t need to. We got to the hospital around 10:10 and slowly walked in over the ice.

David helped me the entire way to L&D registration, which was good cause we stopped a couple times, and I leaned on him during contractions. I signed in and would lean my head on the desk during a contraction. They took me to triage, where, to be honest, the nurse was rather rough and completely unaware of me as an individual person. They did two tests to check to see if my water broke (because I guess the leaking for an hour and the first test weren’t enough), and she actually said to me, “We’ll check to see if your water did break otherwise we’ll send you home to labor some more.” This was spoken to a woman who had just driven 30 minutes in an ice storm and who was, as it turns out, an hour from delivery. I told her there was no way this wasn’t real labor, but I don’t think she heard me. She then strapped me in to monitor the baby’s heartbeat during contractions and had me lie down. When I asked her if I could sit up during the 20 minutes of monitoring, she said no, to which I should have fought harder because lying down during contractions without drugs is awful. I wonder if that might have been why I had back labor later. I would squeeze Dave’s hand super tight trying to get through the pain. This was the only time labor was really bad.

She checked my progress and told me I was 3-4 centimeters and 70% effaced, which surprised me. I thought I’d at least be around 6cm. I’m pretty sure that because she so roughly checked my dilation that I closed up a bit, which happened to me last time I was in labor (even though the nurse had been nice about it then). But we’ll never know because I never had the chance to get checked again before Rex came out.

We went in to the labor room and dealt with the lights. I was also hot at this point so I took off my sweater. I asked for a glass of ice water and was told the nurse would have to get approval from my midwife before I got anything. I said, “No, I need some water now,” and David got me some as soon as he could. We put the back of the bed up so I could try to lean against it during contractions, as my doula had suggested during our meeting the week before, but it wasn’t a position that really worked for me. My doula hadn’t been able to make it to the hospital due to the snow, so when Jan, my OB/GYN MIL, mentioned that she was going to go, I asked her if she would stay. At that point I honestly didn’t really trust the staff at North Fulton, because they seemed to be ignoring me and the true state I was in. I thought the baby was going to come fast, and I wanted someone there I trusted to catch the baby. I trusted my midwife, but she hadn’t shown up yet, and the nurse, Vick, didn’t seem in a hurry to grab her. In fact, she kept asking me intake questions during my contractions, and there was no way I could answer her. At this point I was deep in my contractions, and I heard Dave have to either answer for me or tell her that she would have to ask later. She even continued bustling about the room doing gosh-knows-what, and I wanted to yell at her to leave and give me some privacy. The only thing I can fathom for her attitude is that I wasn’t screaming and crying; in fact, I barely made any noise at all. One of the only things I said the whole time was “Ugh labor is hard work!”

This labor was very different from my first in that I wanted to be touched by Dave this time. Even just his hand on my shoulder was soothing. Last time I think I felt self-conscious when people touched me. This time I didn’t feel that way at all. I had some serious back pain during my last half hour of contractions before pushing, which Dave and Jan tried to help by massaging, but that made it hurt worse. If they touched my back around the pain, that did help, but I could barely get out any instructions to them. I had no idea how long or close together my contractions were and no one was telling me, even if they were timing them (I had been told in triage that they were three minutes apart lasting one minute, but Dave said he thought I was making them slow down because of how I was being treated in there).

The only position I really liked was facing Dave, holding my arms around his neck. I could dangle in between contractions and the gravity and support I felt from him got me through during. I stood up for a little while doing this, but soon that was too much height, so I squatted on the edge of the bed being basically held up by him. He and Jan would say things to me that really helped my mindset. Jan once said, “Don’t fight them, let the contractions do the work,” which I really think helped me move forward. Many times I considered an epidural. I even asked Jan if I should at one point, and her response was “You’re doing great” which annoyed me, but she probably recognized that it wasn’t going to be long until the baby got there.

I thought of a few things such as getting in to the shower (which seemed way too far away) or sitting on the toilet because I felt the urge to poo. But I knew from my previous labor that that feeling is usually because the baby is getting ready to join you on the outside. And honestly I didn’t want the intensity of sitting like that again. It was when I sat on the toilet with Walter that I felt fear and the labor kinda went out of control (i.e. the doctor started leading the show instead of me). So I just thought to myself, “I’m going to try to poo here, and if it comes out, if whatever comes out, so be it. I’m trying to get a baby out of me.”

It wasn’t really that long after I was squatting on the bed, holding on to my husband, going with the flow, that I started to bear down. My body totally took over and knew exactly what it was doing. I said, “I think I was pushing on that one” and Jan said, “I saw that”. The nurse came in around then, and Dave tried to tell her I was pushing, but she basically ignored him. Jan then reiterated the sentiment, and the nurse said, “OK, the midwife is coming down. I’ll let her know so that she can come check her.” I believe she left the room at this point, and during my next contraction I really beared down. It was probably one of two or three big pushes I made to get my little boy out.

Jan went to the door to tell the nurses to really get in there, and then came back to me to tell me not to push and to breathe through the next contraction. But I think my body listened to her, and I didn’t really have a big urge to push. I certainly, this time, felt the “ring of fire” that everyone describes as the baby sits in the birth canal. I think this brief calmness helped me to go slow and not to tear like I did last time.

After that I continued pushing regardless of who was in the room. I knew Jan would be able to catch him if no one else got there in time, but I did sense when a bunch of people rushed in all at once. I was still wearing the “underwear” they give you in triage, which is very stretchy mesh, and the nurses were having an interesting time trying to remove them to catch the baby. I pushed when my body told me to push, and his head came out. I had another brief break, then pushed again and heard the word “shoulders”, so I believe the midwife had to turn him a bit to ease him out, but out he came! I was still wrapped up in David’s arms, and he later told me that I was pushing my belly against him, and he could literally feel the baby move down inside me with contractions and pushing. Once the baby came out they had me sit back and hold him to me. His cord was short and everything was covered in various bodily fluids, but it was a miraculous feeling to hold another sweet, warm, slippery baby of mine to my stomach. It was less than three hours after my water had broken and about an hour after we arrived at the hospital.

This birth was healing in many ways. I’ve never felt closer to my husband. I felt like we went through that together and that I couldn’t have done it without him. He literally held me through one of the most profound experiences of my life. And even though my first birth went pretty much as I wanted, I had this lingering fear from the pushing stages. After Rex, I feel only exhilaration when I look back at his birth. Despite the hospital scenery and regulations, I gave birth the way I wanted to. I conquered my fears… even though labor was so short I don’t think I could have done it any other way (i.e. with medication).

Oh Rex, how your father, brother, and I love you. You are a light in our lives and oh so welcome already!

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Pregnancy leaves no woman untested

2 Jan

Though maybe it does? I’m sure some women breeze through pregnancy as they do life. But I’m not talking about those women. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve wanted a baby, pregnancy is no joke. I don’t like the complainers though, because they’re missing the point of their incredible miracle.

I currently have an almost fully cooked babe in me, and I still don’t really understand or grasp what is happening. I remember looking at Walter as a newborn and just being amazed that he came out of me. It is truly unbelievable. I am growing another life. I will give birth to a human who with all luck and good fortune will grow into an adult who will have all sorts of experiences life will grant to him.

As I near the end of this pregnancy, a much wanted pregnancy, there are so many thoughts floating through my mind. First and foremost is, when will he get here? I thought maybe he’d come at the end of December, but my dad was right and he’ll be a January baby. Of course then I think, how will his birth go? What will Walt, Dave, and I be doing when he decides to join us on the outside? Will it be fast and relatively painless or a big struggle? These are huge unknowns.

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I’ve endured months and months of nausea, pain, self-discipline, and wonderment to get to this point (and yet I’d characterize this pregnancy as pretty easy-going. I’ve felt very lucky to feel as good as I’ve felt most of the time and all my testing went well). And yet, standing on the edge of bringing in a new life to our family and the world makes me wonder: how will it go to have another? Will he fit right in? Who will he be? Will he be as awesome as Walter? Did I do enough right for him? Mentally this has been a very different pregnancy than my first; did he absorb all of that? In a good or bad way?

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I just have to trust in him. And enjoy these last few days of us being together, as close together as two people could possibly be. From the moment he comes out, he’ll be experiencing the world without me, no matter how long I hold him tight.

Pregnancy/Fertility Thoughts

28 Oct

29-weeksAlmost 7 months pregnant!

I have been growing this little one with so much joy inside my heart. It is different though, after secondary infertility and fertility treatments. I think that was why I was so anxious about the birth of this one even from the very beginning. For so many months my body had failed to give me what I wanted, and I don’t think I was truly trusting myself, even after my pregnancy continued to progress smoothly.

The first time I got pregnant, it happened after one cycle of trying. This time it took 2 years almost exactly from the date I wrote “We can start trying!!!” on our Google calendar to getting a positive pregnancy test. By the time it finally did happen, we were trying so many things at once, only God knows what did the trick. It takes three months for eggs to develop from follicles; the egg for baby boy #2 originated from the month we were doing our anti-inflammatory diet. I was going to acupuncture every two weeks. I had an endometrial biopsy the previous cycle. And, we did a Femara IUI cycle.

I think there honestly is a different feeling (for me) to getting pregnant in the quiet intimacy with my husband vs the public happenings at an RE’s office. I suppose some people can hide that aspect of their lives, but I needed the support of my friends and family throughout our years of trying. And by the time I was going to an RE’s office several times a week, it’s hard to hide from the “did you take a test today?” questions — not that I minded. I enjoyed sharing the journey.

The book on orgasmic birth really did help my anxiety. While there were things I didn’t like about that particular book (the author was a bit aggressive, for one), it helped me get in tune with the feeling that “all this is natural, just let your body do what comes naturally.” And that’s when I realized I had a block against those type of thoughts because of how this little one came to be. But the truth is, if God, or the universe, hadn’t wanted it to be, it wouldn’t have happened, no matter how many interventions. I know many people who try fertility treatments for years with no success. So I’m slowly getting back to that assurance I had with Walter that my body knows what it is doing and can handle a birth. Can more than just handle a birth.

My goal this time is to push the baby out with a smile on my face, instead of hyperventilating. My goal is to feel the joy coursing through me every moment of his birth, as I have for every moment of his pregnancy… well, since the unbearable nausea ended. It’s amazing to me how negatively I felt, after trying so hard, when I finally got my wish granted. I’m glad that has passed, and I’m only looking forward to the things to come, like holding this little one as close as possible for as long as possible, and sharing him with all those who love our little growing family.

Orgasmic Birth?

27 Sep

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Before I even got pregnant with Walter, I had studied to be a doula and was really passionate about it. The mothers I nannied for had had unmedicated labors, I was a fan of Ina May Gaskin, so I knew what I wanted for my own birth experience. Despite many people telling me how hard or awful it would be, I knew what I knew, pretty much ignored any nay-sayers, and ended up having the labor with Walter that I wanted.

Sure it was hard, sure it was painful, sure it was scary, but I did it. I knew I could, and I did. Thousands (millions?) of people run marathons, and I don’t think any one of them describes that as easy, but they do it for the rush and the sense of accomplishment.

Given all that, I don’t really know why, with #2, I am mostly filled with fear and anxiety about the birth. I don’t want an epidural or narcotics — and I’m mad the US does not support gas and air during labor! But I think it would be terrible to continue to feel this way up until the birth. Our minds play such an important role in how we labor… so I figure I need to study again. To delve into the world of births.

I just ordered a book on Orgasmic Births (wouldn’t that be nice!??), and I’m hoping it’ll jump start that feeling I once had that despite any fears, this is doable. More than doable.

Gosh I’m excited to meet little boy. You know, after that whole giving birth thing.

The Universe’s Perfect and Ironic Timing

28 Aug

I’ve always wanted more than one child, and for two years we waited and wondered and worked to “make” that happen. You never know when the right egg and sperm will meet at the right time and it’ll all work out. It’s so hard when you’re going through it because month after month you never know when the end of the pain will be (though at first it’s not so painful, it’s just exciting). We would say to ourselves, “If only we knew how much time we had to wait, then we could relax about it” and it’s true. The not knowing when or if it’ll ever happen is very difficult to wrap your head around.

In retrospect, I wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way. With Walter, we wanted a baby, and *poof* I got pregnant. I never took anything for granted, but it’s not the same type of appreciation when you have to struggle for something. Not being able to get pregnant when I wanted not only made me more thankful for #2 but also for every moment with W.

I suffered so badly during first trimester that I’m not sure I would have survived if Walter was any younger. He had to play on his own during the days I couldn’t get out of bed except to feed him. And, because he is older, he really understands what is happening, and that just makes it that much more precious to me that he can share in this joy with us. He was worried about me when I was so sick and that was sweet too.

And just because the universe likes to make me laugh with its unique sense of humor, I got everything that I wanted all at once. That might sound like it’s perfect, and it is great, but there is that whole “be careful what you wish for” saying for a reason. We tried to sell our house for two years. While that process is a little more cut and dry than baby-making, trying to do so at the end of a recession and recoup your money can be a little on the tough side.

But this time, it worked, and we were able to buy the house we wanted in the right neighborhood for the right price. We moved in a week after I found out I was pregnant, and I was feeling great. Dave even moved all the heavy boxes for me. All our dreams were coming true!

Then, the sickness hit. I sat around in a brand new house (to us) feeling worse than I’ve ever felt in my life. I felt so bad that I wondered why in the heck I had ever wanted another baby. My brain started changing from “this is my dream house” to “this house and its smells and everything about it makes me sick”. After working very hard to sell our house and immediately buying and moving in to another one, it was unbelievably upsetting and worrisome to Dave to have his wife talking to the realtor about selling. Again.

It got so bad I made us stay with my mom for a few weeks, which of course was confusing to W, who had been such a trooper throughout our long move. When Dave would go work on the house, he would send me pictures, and looking at them made me nauseous. I didn’t want to talk about the house or even see highway signs that said “Marietta”. I reinstalled Zillow and was looking at Midtown condos for sale. Our doctor said it was the first time he had heard of this pregnancy side effect.

As a friend of mine told me while we were discussing this, I needed to give myself a break and wait it out. Basically in one tiny period of my life I had been dealing with selling, buying, and renovating a house, and infertility, fertility treatments, and first trimester. It was a lot to handle.

Thankfully, it passed. We’re on the side of hope and excitement, waiting for little boy to get here and enjoying every kick. We’re doing puzzles on our dining room table and loving our yard and the public library, and it’s all good. It’s still going to take time to adjust and figure out this new area of Atlanta, but hey, that’s what life is. The journey.

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A beautiful, full double rainbow we saw on W’s birthday weekend.

 

Baby #2 is a sweet little brother for our W

26 Aug

After too many months of crying and waiting and testing and trying, there’s nothing but joy here to say we’re expecting another baby January 2017. Just after health insurance deductibles switch to the new year!

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Already looking pretty stinkin’ cute

We had our 20 week ultrasound this morning and everything looks great! He was moving around and even sucked his thumb while we were looking. Walter enjoyed watching the ultrasound tech take pictures for a few minutes, then spent the rest of the time asking when she’d be done and talking about his cinnamon roll breakfast.

W seems just as excited for his brother as we are. He says, “My baby will be here after Christmas, and I want to keep him forever.” I’ll remind him of that sentiment when little boy #2 is old enough to mess up his Lego and magnatile creations.

It’s been a long journey to get to this point, including a first trimester that was hellish to survive, but as I feel baby moving around in there, it’s just an incredible feeling that I’m so glad I get to experience again. This procreation stuff really is a miracle.