My baby girl, Brynja, is so darling. I marvel at the fact that she is 19 months old. I wish I was better at taking pictures so I could share her charms with the world, but, for now, writing will have to suffice. She has been my latest bloomer in the speech department. Not to say that she's not communicating, because she most certainly is. She has the most precious ways of expressing herself and telling us what she wants. She hums and squeaks and signs, and very recently, has started to open her world even further by trying to use a few more words. I swear that she tried to say "street sweeper" today as she and I giggled at the machine sweeping our leaves from the gutters. She is my pal on these long days with the other kids in school. We have so much fun.
Just today we played with a plastic elephant and a stuffed armadillo. We made them run like horses and I would try to make elephant noises. Brynja thought this was hysterical. She laughed her big, open-mouth laughed, exposing her new molars and her yet-to-be-I-teeth holes. It's the cutest thing. She laughs with gusto and gallops around the house like a joyful little horsey. She brings delight to our home like sunshine warming the sidewalk. I love her so much.
Bedtime or nap time is my favorite. As soon as I turn off her light and settle in the glider next to her bed, she snuggles her little head into my neck or chest and calms herself down. Sometimes I sing her a song, other times I simply rock her and wonder at the love flowing between us. It's like a force of nature that is impossible to resist. Not that I'd want to resist it. I just jump in and bask in the glow of that love. I just want to squeeze her and never let her go. I often feel a sense of loss as I lay her in her bed, the heavy weight of her small body taken from me and put down for her autonomous nap.
I get it now. I really get it.
People used to say to me when my other kids were small, "Oh... treasure this time! It goes so fast. Before you know it, they'll be driving and then off to college!" or something like that. They said it all the time! I'd smile at them through clenched teeth as I heard these words for what felt like the thousandth time. They really meant well, but I just wanted to punch them or tell them to shut up. They didn't know how hard those days were! And they were hard. Mac, in particular, was a challenging child, and I just couldn't wait for each day to end so I could see my little kids asleep, looking angelic and not fighting with each other. (He definitely had his sweet moments too... I don't want to discount those, but I remember the challenging times best, it seems!)
I can't cite the source, or perhaps even the correct quote, but recently I heard something that went like, "Motherhood is full of the longest days and the shortest years."
How true that is! Each day can feel like an eternity, and then you blink and your oldest son, who used to be so full of challenge, is 11 1/2 years old! What? And my Ella is 9 1/2? Huh? My baby Rohan is 6 1/2? How did that happen?
They were right. It really does go fast.
And so, I hold my Brynja a little closer. I ache when I put her down to bed. And most of all I cry for my other babies, Mac, Ella and Rohan. I look at theses big kids and wish so hard that I could hold them as infants just one more time. I cry for that time that is gone from me. If I found a magic lamp today, I'd rub it and wish for one day with each of my kids when they were small.
And so with Brynja, my last baby, I hold her tighter knowing that time will slip through my fingers anyway, but at least I know it this time. I don't think the knowing makes it any easier, just more poignant.
Showing posts with label Brynja. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brynja. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Friday's Fabulous Five
Remember how I made up this game a long time ago when I blabbed about fabulous things in my life? I barely do, but I am committed to posting more for my dear, sweet dad and sister who are far away.
Dad and Lacy, this one's for you.
1- Brynja's sweet face and her spunky personality. Not to mention the precious peace that falls on her round cheeks in her slumber.
2- SHORT HAIR!!!! This is the most fabulous thing EVER. I feel like me again. I love me with short hair. I love the ease of it. I love the look. I love the spunk. I LOVE MY SHORT HAIR!
And I love seeing my short-haired self holding my sleeping Baby Brynja.
And then tell me about it, if you wish. I love to hear about your process, if you feel inclined to share. ♥
Dad and Lacy, this one's for you.
1- Brynja's sweet face and her spunky personality. Not to mention the precious peace that falls on her round cheeks in her slumber.
2- SHORT HAIR!!!! This is the most fabulous thing EVER. I feel like me again. I love me with short hair. I love the ease of it. I love the look. I love the spunk. I LOVE MY SHORT HAIR!
And I love seeing my short-haired self holding my sleeping Baby Brynja.
Brynja and I, April 14, 2011
3-Having my tax information all in order and in my accountant's hands and OUT of my hands. YAY. This was the latest I've EVER done my taxes and I'm so relieved that it's over.
4- Being o.k. with myself and where I'm at. Sure there are many things that I want to change, but I am mostly in such a great place and feel so good in my own skin. I like me. Isn't that weird and novel? I like this girl named Clancy. She's a cool cat, says I.
5- Awakening minds. Some people get excited about sports. Some love their T.V. shows. Some people are passionate about exercise or nutrition. Some about reading books. Some about art and creating things, decorating and beautifying spaces. Me? I like many of those things, but I thrill at expansion of human conscsiousness, mine or others. I love to make new discoveries about myself. I love to dig into my psyche and see what drives me to behaviors that are both desirable and not. I love to watch the process in others and hear about their unfolding. This is passionate stuff for me. I love it and I'm shoutin' it to the world.
♥Clancy
P.S. I feel inclined to ask if anyone would like to join me in processing? If so, I invite you... get down and dirty with a shovel and dig into yourself. Find out who you are. Love you. Become. I dare you!
And then tell me about it, if you wish. I love to hear about your process, if you feel inclined to share. ♥
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Three Cheers for Randomness and Rambling
Hurrah.
So, January, huh? That's just weird.
December held me captive via chocolate, caramel and Santa Clause. It was an exhausting month. Not to mention Baby B. I don't recall my other babies being this much work. But neither to I recall being 31 when I had my other babies. Right. I was in my twenties. I remember now. I am now convinced that factor makes an impactful difference.
The return to school, post Christmas break, is a brutal thing. I'll be honest... I'm not a fan. But after a few days, I think we're back in the swing of things.
Did you ever think about that term, "back in the swing of things"? When I think of that term, it brings to mind some feeling of routine and easiness or something. But when I think about it a little more literally, I think of a swing at a park that goes up and down, fast and slow. You have to pump to get going high and fast, and you can cruise a little bit and enjoy the ride, but you slow down and eventually stop. It's fun. Or it was when I was young. Now that I'm 32, I get that barfy feeling, which obliterates some of that fun feeling. I'm not sure what that means, but it's got to be significant somehow...
It's really too bad how YouTube has started showing advertisements. Remember the good ole days when it was just weird videos?
Micheal Buble's mouth moves weird to me. I think I should just listen to his music and not watch him sing on YouTube where I can't help but wonder if he genetically can't relax his upper lip or if he just does that when he sings.
Hurrah.
Speaking of YouTube, I just watched this video of my little LITTLE Rohan and I may or may not have cried a little bit while I saw that sweet little face and heard that precious little voice. What happens to these babies? Where do they go? Why do they have to get swallowed up by these older, yet no less wonderful, big kids? How does this happen? Can't these adorable little tiny faces somehow coexist with the new, more grown-up versions? Growing up is so tragic and so wonderful. Such a dichotomy.
Did you cry? Probably not, but I bet you smiled. "This is me. I am Rohan. Amen." Precious.
You know what I miss about blogging? Expressing myself. I find myself all comtemplative and introspective lately, with no outlet. I'm not really talking to anyone in depth, except my husband, but daily life does not always lend itself to deep introspective talks. I have to make those happen. And Dustin, being a man, places deep talking and diving into emotional wells down about #100 on his to-do list. And that's just fine. He is willing to take a plunge now and then, but he doesn't have a need to do so, like I do, being a woman. I got to do that as often I wanted to when I was blogging a lot and I miss that. Miss it, I tell you.
For Christmas, I got a new computer. And a very expensive piece of software that I can build custom websites with. I'm doing one right now for my brother-in-law. Next I will do my own (which was why I actually bought the program) for my pretzels and such. It's all very exciting.
Speaking of exciting... our other big Christmas present was a finished basement. Carpet came on December 27th. It's been about 4 years in the making, our basement. But it's really, actually finished now. I can't tell you the satisfaction this has brought to Dustin and I. And I can't tell you how grateful I am for my dad and his endless knowledge about all things construction. He's good, I tell you. Very good.
Hurrah!
And, because you have asked (on Facebook) and will ask on here, here are some pictures, before and after.
Just kidding. I wrote this post on January 6th and it's only just being published because I've been trying to get up the gumption to post those blasted pictures. Why are pics so hard for me? I have no idea. Maybe some day I'll show before and afters... but not today.
Hurrah?
So, January, huh? That's just weird.
December held me captive via chocolate, caramel and Santa Clause. It was an exhausting month. Not to mention Baby B. I don't recall my other babies being this much work. But neither to I recall being 31 when I had my other babies. Right. I was in my twenties. I remember now. I am now convinced that factor makes an impactful difference.
The return to school, post Christmas break, is a brutal thing. I'll be honest... I'm not a fan. But after a few days, I think we're back in the swing of things.
Did you ever think about that term, "back in the swing of things"? When I think of that term, it brings to mind some feeling of routine and easiness or something. But when I think about it a little more literally, I think of a swing at a park that goes up and down, fast and slow. You have to pump to get going high and fast, and you can cruise a little bit and enjoy the ride, but you slow down and eventually stop. It's fun. Or it was when I was young. Now that I'm 32, I get that barfy feeling, which obliterates some of that fun feeling. I'm not sure what that means, but it's got to be significant somehow...
It's really too bad how YouTube has started showing advertisements. Remember the good ole days when it was just weird videos?
Micheal Buble's mouth moves weird to me. I think I should just listen to his music and not watch him sing on YouTube where I can't help but wonder if he genetically can't relax his upper lip or if he just does that when he sings.
Hurrah.
Speaking of YouTube, I just watched this video of my little LITTLE Rohan and I may or may not have cried a little bit while I saw that sweet little face and heard that precious little voice. What happens to these babies? Where do they go? Why do they have to get swallowed up by these older, yet no less wonderful, big kids? How does this happen? Can't these adorable little tiny faces somehow coexist with the new, more grown-up versions? Growing up is so tragic and so wonderful. Such a dichotomy.
Did you cry? Probably not, but I bet you smiled. "This is me. I am Rohan. Amen." Precious.
You know what I miss about blogging? Expressing myself. I find myself all comtemplative and introspective lately, with no outlet. I'm not really talking to anyone in depth, except my husband, but daily life does not always lend itself to deep introspective talks. I have to make those happen. And Dustin, being a man, places deep talking and diving into emotional wells down about #100 on his to-do list. And that's just fine. He is willing to take a plunge now and then, but he doesn't have a need to do so, like I do, being a woman. I got to do that as often I wanted to when I was blogging a lot and I miss that. Miss it, I tell you.
For Christmas, I got a new computer. And a very expensive piece of software that I can build custom websites with. I'm doing one right now for my brother-in-law. Next I will do my own (which was why I actually bought the program) for my pretzels and such. It's all very exciting.
Speaking of exciting... our other big Christmas present was a finished basement. Carpet came on December 27th. It's been about 4 years in the making, our basement. But it's really, actually finished now. I can't tell you the satisfaction this has brought to Dustin and I. And I can't tell you how grateful I am for my dad and his endless knowledge about all things construction. He's good, I tell you. Very good.
Hurrah!
And, because you have asked (on Facebook) and will ask on here, here are some pictures, before and after.
Just kidding. I wrote this post on January 6th and it's only just being published because I've been trying to get up the gumption to post those blasted pictures. Why are pics so hard for me? I have no idea. Maybe some day I'll show before and afters... but not today.
Hurrah?
Friday, October 8, 2010
Dear Brynja,
You are 6 1/2 months old and I've hardly said two words about you in this, my blogging record. I suppose I really haven't said much at all here, so don't feel bad, baby girl.
I was thinking about you this morning while I was in the shower. I thought of the wonder of your existence. Seven months ago I didn't know who you were. Seven months ago I didn't know your name, or even that you were a girl. Seven months ago I was scared for you to enter this world, both the physiological entrance and the entrance into our family dynamic. Seven months ago was not very long ago, and yet... a lifetime.
I hope that when you read this someday that you don't feel sad for my fears. Perhaps you'll understand when you become a mom someday. I was just scared to change. Scared to shake up the status quo. But you, persistent little thing that you are, demanded entrance into this world and our family. You whispered in my ear when I was in labor with your brother Rohan. I felt you there waiting. You peeked around the corners of your daddy's mind and showed yourself to him too. You, in your patient way, stuck your foot in the door and waited for me to have the strength to open it. And look at you! Look at the miracle of you, my precious little darling.
Brynja Leigh, you amaze me. You delight me. You melt and remold me. There are moments when I am frustrated because you love to be held so very much and that is not always conducive to everyday living, but the magic of being the fourth child over a ten-year span is that I get it. I truly understand that this time does fly by. These moments are gone so fast, and so I've found that I can't be bothered with caving to those feelings of frustration that come when you want only me, or when you wake up for the third, fourth, or fifth time at night. I can be patient. I know you'll sleep eventually. If Mac could do it, I know you will too. I also know that there will come a time that you won't want me to hold you all the time. You'll want to run and play and leave me watching your growing self from a distance. A distance that will only widen with time. And so, I am here for you now, my baby Brynja. My mommy muscles can hold you all day if you need it, which right now you frequently do.
Even looking at your written name, I see the wonder of you. Your name, Miss Brynja, is a story. I was so torn over your name. I didn't know what to call you. As I sat in the hospital and stared at your perfect lips and your sweet round face, I asked you over and over what your name was. I had a name that I wanted and loved, but I was unsettled about it. I tried several options on you and I was almost sick with my indecision so, I enlisted divine help. I prayed. Your daddy and I held hands and asked God to help us know your name.
You see, there is power in a name, my Little Love and we knew that you brought a power of your own into this world. The mere fact that you made it here, past my fear and mental blocks and unscathed from your somewhat traumatic birth, speaks of your power. And God blessed us with an answer in Brynja Leigh. As I wrote it on your birth certificate information page, the rightness of your name settled on me like a blanket. I held onto that feeling over the next few months. I found myself doubting, and, truth be told, mourning the other name that I so loved. I don't remember the date, but I'll never forget the day that doubt left me. I knew that your were growing into your powerful name. You see, my Sweet, your name is from the Old Norse language and it means "Shielding or Armor". I don't know what it is that you will do in this life to need a name such as this, but it is yours. And the spelling... I hope you aren't overly troubled by it in your life, but I love it. Every time I see it written, I find that my eyes caress it. The letters have a flow and a form that satisfies some deeper part of my soul. I hope you like it as much as I do.
Little Miss B, you are a joy. Your brothers and sister cannot get enough of you. Ella wants to hold you so much everyday. Mac likes to call you "Dee-Doh Baby" and I have no idea what that means, but you laugh when he says it in his very silly, squeaky way. When Rohan talks to you, you light up in a manner that only Rohan can achieve. You love your siblings as much as they love you.
You are a momma's girl to the MAX. You love on your daddy too, but mommy is the magic right now. Daddy loves to come home from work and hold you while I make dinner. Sometimes you are thrilled with this arrangement, other times... not so much. I'm sure, as time goes on, that you will become a little daddy's girl, so I'll just enjoy this while it lasts!
Some noteworthy info and accomplishments:
There's many more things, I'm sure, to write and I will try a little more valiantly to record these fleeting and priceless moments, my darling.
And look how cute you are!!
Please know, my Baby Brynja, that you are my whole world right now and I love it. Thank you for getting yourself here and bringing your sweet, peaceful soul to our family.
Love,
Mommy
I was thinking about you this morning while I was in the shower. I thought of the wonder of your existence. Seven months ago I didn't know who you were. Seven months ago I didn't know your name, or even that you were a girl. Seven months ago I was scared for you to enter this world, both the physiological entrance and the entrance into our family dynamic. Seven months ago was not very long ago, and yet... a lifetime.
I hope that when you read this someday that you don't feel sad for my fears. Perhaps you'll understand when you become a mom someday. I was just scared to change. Scared to shake up the status quo. But you, persistent little thing that you are, demanded entrance into this world and our family. You whispered in my ear when I was in labor with your brother Rohan. I felt you there waiting. You peeked around the corners of your daddy's mind and showed yourself to him too. You, in your patient way, stuck your foot in the door and waited for me to have the strength to open it. And look at you! Look at the miracle of you, my precious little darling.
Brynja Leigh, you amaze me. You delight me. You melt and remold me. There are moments when I am frustrated because you love to be held so very much and that is not always conducive to everyday living, but the magic of being the fourth child over a ten-year span is that I get it. I truly understand that this time does fly by. These moments are gone so fast, and so I've found that I can't be bothered with caving to those feelings of frustration that come when you want only me, or when you wake up for the third, fourth, or fifth time at night. I can be patient. I know you'll sleep eventually. If Mac could do it, I know you will too. I also know that there will come a time that you won't want me to hold you all the time. You'll want to run and play and leave me watching your growing self from a distance. A distance that will only widen with time. And so, I am here for you now, my baby Brynja. My mommy muscles can hold you all day if you need it, which right now you frequently do.
Even looking at your written name, I see the wonder of you. Your name, Miss Brynja, is a story. I was so torn over your name. I didn't know what to call you. As I sat in the hospital and stared at your perfect lips and your sweet round face, I asked you over and over what your name was. I had a name that I wanted and loved, but I was unsettled about it. I tried several options on you and I was almost sick with my indecision so, I enlisted divine help. I prayed. Your daddy and I held hands and asked God to help us know your name.
You see, there is power in a name, my Little Love and we knew that you brought a power of your own into this world. The mere fact that you made it here, past my fear and mental blocks and unscathed from your somewhat traumatic birth, speaks of your power. And God blessed us with an answer in Brynja Leigh. As I wrote it on your birth certificate information page, the rightness of your name settled on me like a blanket. I held onto that feeling over the next few months. I found myself doubting, and, truth be told, mourning the other name that I so loved. I don't remember the date, but I'll never forget the day that doubt left me. I knew that your were growing into your powerful name. You see, my Sweet, your name is from the Old Norse language and it means "Shielding or Armor". I don't know what it is that you will do in this life to need a name such as this, but it is yours. And the spelling... I hope you aren't overly troubled by it in your life, but I love it. Every time I see it written, I find that my eyes caress it. The letters have a flow and a form that satisfies some deeper part of my soul. I hope you like it as much as I do.
Little Miss B, you are a joy. Your brothers and sister cannot get enough of you. Ella wants to hold you so much everyday. Mac likes to call you "Dee-Doh Baby" and I have no idea what that means, but you laugh when he says it in his very silly, squeaky way. When Rohan talks to you, you light up in a manner that only Rohan can achieve. You love your siblings as much as they love you.
You are a momma's girl to the MAX. You love on your daddy too, but mommy is the magic right now. Daddy loves to come home from work and hold you while I make dinner. Sometimes you are thrilled with this arrangement, other times... not so much. I'm sure, as time goes on, that you will become a little daddy's girl, so I'll just enjoy this while it lasts!
Some noteworthy info and accomplishments:
- Rolling over, back to front and front to back. You are choosy about this and sometimes you still love to just lie on your back and kick your legs like you did when you were just a few months old.
- Sitting up. This has been in the works for a couple months, but you've recently achieved "master" status with this skill. You look extra cute and extra little sitting there on a large floor.
- Blowing raspberries. This is a talent you have just developed and it elicits endless peals of laughter from your adoring siblings.
- Standing unaided for 3-5 seconds. I have to keep my hands right there but I think you've got some fantabulous balance in the works!
- You do this adorable little "gavel" thing. You pat your little hand on everything and your brother Mac says, upon seeing it, "Order in the court!". It's one of my very favorite things you do.
- You have gotten much better about being in the car, so long as it's Mom driving. I think it's because you know that I can't do anything to help you except crank my arm backward to hold your binky in and touch your face. If Dad is driving, you know that I'm available. I'm not gonna lie, Brynja... you abuse that knowledge a little bit. :-)
- You scoot around in your little walker and explore things. And you "gavel" everything in sight. You're so cute.
- You will NOT eat anything but breast milk. You have some hypersensitive gag reflex going on. Anytime I try to introduce any food to you, you severely gag on it and sometimes even throw up. Not so cool, Baby B. Let's work on that, okay?
- You LOVE to pull Daddy's chest, arm and leg hair. Dad doesn't love it so much though.
- You lay on your tummy and spin in circles and will even scoot backwards, but no signs of crawling yet. But don't worry, none of your siblings really "got" that either and look how amazing they are! :-)
- You do this smile sometimes and it turns my heart to jelly. You look like you're clenching your teeth, but you don't have any teeth, so it's just you clenching your little gums. OH. MY. GOSH. It's the cutest, funniest thing EVER. Kid, you crack me up.
- You love LOVE your Grandma Nene's glasses chain that hangs around her neck. You're drawn to it like a fly to honey and you're amazingly gentle when you get a hold of her glasses.
There's many more things, I'm sure, to write and I will try a little more valiantly to record these fleeting and priceless moments, my darling.
And look how cute you are!!
Please know, my Baby Brynja, that you are my whole world right now and I love it. Thank you for getting yourself here and bringing your sweet, peaceful soul to our family.
Love,
Mommy
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Brynja's Story, Part 3
Same deal applies as previous two posts... skip if you don't like hearing crazy (and somewhat graphic) details about labor and birth, cuz here it comes, baby. (no pun intended)
Previously on Clancy's blog...
From Brynja's Story, Part 2
..."You know, I wonder if that membrane is completely ruptured?"
"Huh?"
"When I was checking you, I thought I felt some membrane still covering the baby's head."
"How can that be?" I asked. "My water is broken, right?" Clearly, from all the "gushing" fluids earlier.
She told me that the amniotic sac actually has two layers. The outer one is thick and strong and the inner one is thin and weak and they usually break together. She even told me the names of them, but I don't recall them now. It might have been that just the outer layer broke.
"Would you like me to see if I can break that?" she asked.
"Sure. Yep. Do it." I replied.
So, the nurse fetched her the magic crochet hook and voila! There was still a little membrane left that she broke.
And that's when all hell broke loose....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...So it turns out that hell is a woman in unmedicated labor with a baby that won't descend. But hell broke loose, fo shizzle.
I thought things had been crazy up to that point, but I found out that I didn't even know crazy yet. The second membrane was broken and the time was now somewhere around 6:55pm, give or take five minutes. (I was told this later. Time was completely irrelevant to me at that point.) If you recall, Brynja was born at 7:14pm. This is not an unusual time line for my labors. I have always gone from 7 or 8 cm to a babe-in-arms in a matter of 20 or 30 minutes, if not faster. What was different in this case was what was happening in my body to create this outcome.
In my previous labors, I was present but my body was in control. I just rode the waves and managed the enormity of the pain and the process of birth. It was amazing really. I never realized until just now what went on during those births. It was as if the part of me that makes me ME was separate from my body... I guess that would be my spirit. I wasn't having an "out of body" experience, but I had to get myself out of the way of my body. Does that make any sense? This is hard to explain. To deal with bringing my first three babies into the world, I had to rise above my body and just let it do what it was built to do. It all just happened so beautifully and I got to participate as more of an observer. Not that I wasn't participating.... I was participating as completely as I knew how to, but I didn't have a say in what my body was doing... my body was just birthing that lovely finished product called baby, as it was engineered so divinely to do. I couldn't have made my body do differently if I tried. (Don't know if I was successful at explaining, but I think I've hit the beating-a-dead-horse point in this explanation.)
But for this birth, the baby was not descending right. I didn't and don't know why. There were no answers then and now there's only speculation. Whatever it was, it made things not behave in that perfectly engineered way that allowed me to just ride those contraction waves and watch it all unfold. I had to take control and make things happen.
So, yes. My second little membrane had been broken. I had a contraction or two... maybe. I can't remember exactly, but Helene's report kept echoing in my head.
7 cm.... 7 cm.... 7cm... 7cm... 7cm!!
And then I got mad.
I was taking control and this baby was coming out.
I don't know that I can explain what transpired in those next 10 or 15 minutes, but for my own clarity, I'm going to try. And, to be a little raw here, I'm scared to voice all this. This whole story has been so hard for me to write. Obviously, since it took me three months to finish the first installment and more than a month to finish the second. But writing it all out has also been... what's the word?... healing? Giving closure? I'm not sure, but it's been a good process for me. I've had many strange feelings surrounding this experience and writing is my best therapy.
So, after Helene broke that membrane and I got mad, I remember sitting Indian-style on the bed and going through a few contractions. During those, I remember grabbing the arms of the bed and, with all the energy I could put into my lats, traps and delts, lifting my whole body (except perhaps my legs) off of the bed in some sort of hovering push-up thing. I remember trying to create that feeling in my body of needing to push. I was making some hellish noise and probably striking fear into every laboring woman on the floor. I did several contractions like that and Helene said something to the effect of, "Clancy, I think you should move to hands and knees and try a few contractions that way."
I don't really even remember moving as she suggested, but I labored through a few contractions that way, and she was right. It was the next necessary position to get the baby down and I knew it. I could feel it.
That's when "The Beast" emerged. "The Beast" that had been laying dormant... in the depths of my soul. Dramatic, you say? Yes. Yes, it is. And yes, it was.
Unprompted from Helene, I turned that hands and knees labor position to a crouch position of sorts. I felt like a frog, with my feet flat on the bed, my hamstrings resting on my calves and my hands down pushing on the bed in front of me. I might have been sitting like a frog, but a werewolf might be a better description, noises included. It was guttural, gut-wrenching howls. And roaring. Literally. I was roaring. I'll never forget the first roar that erupted as I forced that baby down. My mom was standing behind me and to my right and as I roared, she laughed. The moment she laughed my head whipped around and I'm sure my eyes were daggers. That's how I felt. She immediately stifled her laugh and stammered, "Oh, it's not funny at all! It just took me by surprise!" I think I took the whole room by surprise. But the intensity of the experience had everyone present aching for me.
I learned later that all those who came to support me were praying. My dad told me that he was praying and imagining himself as a funnel with the powers of heaven pouring down from above, through him and straight at me. He said he was sending every ounce of strength he had into me and my baby. Rebby was pleading for it to be over. Lacy and my mom too. I also learned that my father-in-law, who was hundreds of miles away and knew only that I was in labor, felt like something was going wrong. He prayed all afternoon and evening too. And even my cousin, also miles and miles away, had an intense feeling that something was wrong... a specific thing... and plead with God to "save her cousin".
I say "The Beast" somewhat in jest, but something truly primal was occurring in that room. I was MAKING that baby come down. There was nothing automatic about it like my previous labors. I, along with all the powers of heaven being sent my way, was bringing that baby into this world and I was telling my body so and IT. WAS. OBEYING.
It was truly amazing. And unfathomably hard. I can hardly even remember the exquisite intensity of those 15 or so minutes, except that it was the hardest thing I've EVER done in my life.
I hadn't felt pushing urges, but I was pushing anyway. And pushing. And roaring. And pushing. And eventually, I started to feel pressure! In previous labors, that pressure was the part I hated the very most. Pushing was so hard for me and I didn't ever want to do it because it is the most bizarre feeling in the world. But this time, it was such a welcome change and it meant that the end was near, so I embraced it.
I started asking Helene if she could see a head yet. What I didn't realize was that my frog/werewolf position kept her from seeing anything because I had my back to the bed in the upright position. She told me I could keep pushing that way, but I needed to turn around so she could see. Strangely, after all this madness, I didn't want to push in this position turned around because I didn't want everyone to see my butt. So weird that I cared about that at that point.
So, I turned around, but I semi-reclined on the bed. Actually, I was positioned so strange... I was all crooked at a weird angle, but once I got turned around, I was stuck because the baby was right there and there was no time for anything else.
And, just like everything else about this labor, this part went differently too, but for once, it was in my favor. My other babies I've had ZERO control when it came to the pushing. I wanted that discomfort and strangeness to get over with so badly, I just pushed like crazy and rocketed those babies right out! This time, I was in complete control. Helene would tell me to back off and I would. She tell me to do a little bit of a push and I would. She said to take it easy and I did. It was amazing. All of a sudden, I felt perfectly in control and clear in my head. I had been a crazy-insane basket case for the last seven hours and suddenly I was clear-headed. Amazing.
I eased the baby's head out and as she emerged, I remember Helene saying, "Oh my gosh! Look at that cord around her neck! We've got to keep this baby close.... things are really tight." I didn't have a clue what she was talking about, nor did I care. It was almost over. The rest of her little body was eased out and I had a baby. A big baby. I was overjoyed! I've never been so relieved in all my life. NEVER! It was absolutely amazing. AMAZING!
All that followed happened very quickly...the baby was out and lying on the bed below me and I heard Helene say, again, something about the cord around her neck. I looked and saw it. It was still around her neck and tightly. Helene quickly unwound the cord and said as she did, "Count them: one, Two, THREE, FOUR TIMES!" Brynja's cord was around her neck FOUR times! As soon as she was unwound, they put her right on me and I saw her precious face. And she looked at me.
There is something so magical about that moment. The blood. The joy. The relief. The cessation of pain. The look in that newborn face. Sometimes the bond is immediate, sometimes it takes a little more time, but the wonder! The wonder of that moment is something I'll never get used to. I've been privileged to experience it four times, and it's just as amazing this last time as it was the first time.
She didn't want to cry for us and she stayed purple for a minute or so. I don't remember being scared, but I remember Helene rubbing Brynja and saying over and over, "Come on, baby. Cry for your mamma." And then she did. And so did most everyone in the room.
My first thoughts were that she was going to be heavier than my other babies. She just looked fuller in her skin. At 8# 3oz, I was right. My second thought was the profound relief that it was over. And that feeling didn't go away for weeks. In fact, if I think long on the experience, the feeling awakens anew. That relief will likely be a lifelong thing. Relief that it had an ending at 7:14pm, and relief that she made it here safe and sound.*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*There was a video recorder running there at the end and Helene said, "This girl must have something special to do here. We don't see many make it out with the cord around their necks four times."
In retrospect, I honestly feel as though Brynja's stubbornness to descend into the birth canal in a normal way saved her life. Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about and she would have been fine... that's what my pediatrician seemed to think, but I have very strong feelings that had she stayed long in the birth canal, she would not be here. And also, if I had allowed myself to get an epidural, which I considered when I was in that Jacuzzi, I would not have been able to feel what needed to happen to get her down and quickly, and that would have kept her in the birth canal for too long. I think this would have ended in a Cesarean Section or worse had I gotten an epidural.
I've looked at it long and hard for four months now. I've analyzed and questioned, and that is my conclusion. Maybe someone with more medical background than I would say that I'm wrong and tell me the reasons why, but I would still stand by what I said. I think it all went as it had to. It was for her safe arrival that things went the way they went.
And I'm so grateful.
Previously on Clancy's blog...
From Brynja's Story, Part 2
..."You know, I wonder if that membrane is completely ruptured?"
"Huh?"
"When I was checking you, I thought I felt some membrane still covering the baby's head."
"How can that be?" I asked. "My water is broken, right?" Clearly, from all the "gushing" fluids earlier.
She told me that the amniotic sac actually has two layers. The outer one is thick and strong and the inner one is thin and weak and they usually break together. She even told me the names of them, but I don't recall them now. It might have been that just the outer layer broke.
"Would you like me to see if I can break that?" she asked.
"Sure. Yep. Do it." I replied.
So, the nurse fetched her the magic crochet hook and voila! There was still a little membrane left that she broke.
And that's when all hell broke loose....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...So it turns out that hell is a woman in unmedicated labor with a baby that won't descend. But hell broke loose, fo shizzle.
I thought things had been crazy up to that point, but I found out that I didn't even know crazy yet. The second membrane was broken and the time was now somewhere around 6:55pm, give or take five minutes. (I was told this later. Time was completely irrelevant to me at that point.) If you recall, Brynja was born at 7:14pm. This is not an unusual time line for my labors. I have always gone from 7 or 8 cm to a babe-in-arms in a matter of 20 or 30 minutes, if not faster. What was different in this case was what was happening in my body to create this outcome.
In my previous labors, I was present but my body was in control. I just rode the waves and managed the enormity of the pain and the process of birth. It was amazing really. I never realized until just now what went on during those births. It was as if the part of me that makes me ME was separate from my body... I guess that would be my spirit. I wasn't having an "out of body" experience, but I had to get myself out of the way of my body. Does that make any sense? This is hard to explain. To deal with bringing my first three babies into the world, I had to rise above my body and just let it do what it was built to do. It all just happened so beautifully and I got to participate as more of an observer. Not that I wasn't participating.... I was participating as completely as I knew how to, but I didn't have a say in what my body was doing... my body was just birthing that lovely finished product called baby, as it was engineered so divinely to do. I couldn't have made my body do differently if I tried. (Don't know if I was successful at explaining, but I think I've hit the beating-a-dead-horse point in this explanation.)
But for this birth, the baby was not descending right. I didn't and don't know why. There were no answers then and now there's only speculation. Whatever it was, it made things not behave in that perfectly engineered way that allowed me to just ride those contraction waves and watch it all unfold. I had to take control and make things happen.
So, yes. My second little membrane had been broken. I had a contraction or two... maybe. I can't remember exactly, but Helene's report kept echoing in my head.
7 cm.... 7 cm.... 7cm... 7cm... 7cm!!
And then I got mad.
I was taking control and this baby was coming out.
I don't know that I can explain what transpired in those next 10 or 15 minutes, but for my own clarity, I'm going to try. And, to be a little raw here, I'm scared to voice all this. This whole story has been so hard for me to write. Obviously, since it took me three months to finish the first installment and more than a month to finish the second. But writing it all out has also been... what's the word?... healing? Giving closure? I'm not sure, but it's been a good process for me. I've had many strange feelings surrounding this experience and writing is my best therapy.
So, after Helene broke that membrane and I got mad, I remember sitting Indian-style on the bed and going through a few contractions. During those, I remember grabbing the arms of the bed and, with all the energy I could put into my lats, traps and delts, lifting my whole body (except perhaps my legs) off of the bed in some sort of hovering push-up thing. I remember trying to create that feeling in my body of needing to push. I was making some hellish noise and probably striking fear into every laboring woman on the floor. I did several contractions like that and Helene said something to the effect of, "Clancy, I think you should move to hands and knees and try a few contractions that way."
I don't really even remember moving as she suggested, but I labored through a few contractions that way, and she was right. It was the next necessary position to get the baby down and I knew it. I could feel it.
That's when "The Beast" emerged. "The Beast" that had been laying dormant... in the depths of my soul. Dramatic, you say? Yes. Yes, it is. And yes, it was.
Unprompted from Helene, I turned that hands and knees labor position to a crouch position of sorts. I felt like a frog, with my feet flat on the bed, my hamstrings resting on my calves and my hands down pushing on the bed in front of me. I might have been sitting like a frog, but a werewolf might be a better description, noises included. It was guttural, gut-wrenching howls. And roaring. Literally. I was roaring. I'll never forget the first roar that erupted as I forced that baby down. My mom was standing behind me and to my right and as I roared, she laughed. The moment she laughed my head whipped around and I'm sure my eyes were daggers. That's how I felt. She immediately stifled her laugh and stammered, "Oh, it's not funny at all! It just took me by surprise!" I think I took the whole room by surprise. But the intensity of the experience had everyone present aching for me.
I learned later that all those who came to support me were praying. My dad told me that he was praying and imagining himself as a funnel with the powers of heaven pouring down from above, through him and straight at me. He said he was sending every ounce of strength he had into me and my baby. Rebby was pleading for it to be over. Lacy and my mom too. I also learned that my father-in-law, who was hundreds of miles away and knew only that I was in labor, felt like something was going wrong. He prayed all afternoon and evening too. And even my cousin, also miles and miles away, had an intense feeling that something was wrong... a specific thing... and plead with God to "save her cousin".
I say "The Beast" somewhat in jest, but something truly primal was occurring in that room. I was MAKING that baby come down. There was nothing automatic about it like my previous labors. I, along with all the powers of heaven being sent my way, was bringing that baby into this world and I was telling my body so and IT. WAS. OBEYING.
It was truly amazing. And unfathomably hard. I can hardly even remember the exquisite intensity of those 15 or so minutes, except that it was the hardest thing I've EVER done in my life.
I hadn't felt pushing urges, but I was pushing anyway. And pushing. And roaring. And pushing. And eventually, I started to feel pressure! In previous labors, that pressure was the part I hated the very most. Pushing was so hard for me and I didn't ever want to do it because it is the most bizarre feeling in the world. But this time, it was such a welcome change and it meant that the end was near, so I embraced it.
I started asking Helene if she could see a head yet. What I didn't realize was that my frog/werewolf position kept her from seeing anything because I had my back to the bed in the upright position. She told me I could keep pushing that way, but I needed to turn around so she could see. Strangely, after all this madness, I didn't want to push in this position turned around because I didn't want everyone to see my butt. So weird that I cared about that at that point.
So, I turned around, but I semi-reclined on the bed. Actually, I was positioned so strange... I was all crooked at a weird angle, but once I got turned around, I was stuck because the baby was right there and there was no time for anything else.
And, just like everything else about this labor, this part went differently too, but for once, it was in my favor. My other babies I've had ZERO control when it came to the pushing. I wanted that discomfort and strangeness to get over with so badly, I just pushed like crazy and rocketed those babies right out! This time, I was in complete control. Helene would tell me to back off and I would. She tell me to do a little bit of a push and I would. She said to take it easy and I did. It was amazing. All of a sudden, I felt perfectly in control and clear in my head. I had been a crazy-insane basket case for the last seven hours and suddenly I was clear-headed. Amazing.
I eased the baby's head out and as she emerged, I remember Helene saying, "Oh my gosh! Look at that cord around her neck! We've got to keep this baby close.... things are really tight." I didn't have a clue what she was talking about, nor did I care. It was almost over. The rest of her little body was eased out and I had a baby. A big baby. I was overjoyed! I've never been so relieved in all my life. NEVER! It was absolutely amazing. AMAZING!
All that followed happened very quickly...the baby was out and lying on the bed below me and I heard Helene say, again, something about the cord around her neck. I looked and saw it. It was still around her neck and tightly. Helene quickly unwound the cord and said as she did, "Count them: one, Two, THREE, FOUR TIMES!" Brynja's cord was around her neck FOUR times! As soon as she was unwound, they put her right on me and I saw her precious face. And she looked at me.
There is something so magical about that moment. The blood. The joy. The relief. The cessation of pain. The look in that newborn face. Sometimes the bond is immediate, sometimes it takes a little more time, but the wonder! The wonder of that moment is something I'll never get used to. I've been privileged to experience it four times, and it's just as amazing this last time as it was the first time.
She didn't want to cry for us and she stayed purple for a minute or so. I don't remember being scared, but I remember Helene rubbing Brynja and saying over and over, "Come on, baby. Cry for your mamma." And then she did. And so did most everyone in the room.
My first thoughts were that she was going to be heavier than my other babies. She just looked fuller in her skin. At 8# 3oz, I was right. My second thought was the profound relief that it was over. And that feeling didn't go away for weeks. In fact, if I think long on the experience, the feeling awakens anew. That relief will likely be a lifelong thing. Relief that it had an ending at 7:14pm, and relief that she made it here safe and sound.*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*There was a video recorder running there at the end and Helene said, "This girl must have something special to do here. We don't see many make it out with the cord around their necks four times."
In retrospect, I honestly feel as though Brynja's stubbornness to descend into the birth canal in a normal way saved her life. Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about and she would have been fine... that's what my pediatrician seemed to think, but I have very strong feelings that had she stayed long in the birth canal, she would not be here. And also, if I had allowed myself to get an epidural, which I considered when I was in that Jacuzzi, I would not have been able to feel what needed to happen to get her down and quickly, and that would have kept her in the birth canal for too long. I think this would have ended in a Cesarean Section or worse had I gotten an epidural.
I've looked at it long and hard for four months now. I've analyzed and questioned, and that is my conclusion. Maybe someone with more medical background than I would say that I'm wrong and tell me the reasons why, but I would still stand by what I said. I think it all went as it had to. It was for her safe arrival that things went the way they went.
And I'm so grateful.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Brynja's Story Part 2
Remember how I was telling Brynja's story a hundred years ago? Yeah. So if you don't want to hear about birth in all it's messy glory, skip this!
So, the kids were dropped off, the photos were taken, a blessing was given and we were on our way. I choose to see a Certified Nurse Midwife for my pregnancies and the one I like happens to be in a town that is 30 miles away from where I live. So, I deliver at a hospital that is a good half hour trek from my house. For Ella and Rohan's birth, this half hour drive worried me a bit because I always have my babies fast once I'm in labor. With Brynja? Not so much. The worry factor was missing as I was not having any contractions to speak of. The whole ride up to the hospital, Dustin and I commented several times at how weird this was. "We're going to have a baby and I'm not even having contractions? Have we ever even done this before?" It was bizarre.
So, we arrive and get ourselves all checked in. My midwife, Helene, had called ahead and told them I was coming and needed to be started on my lovely little antibiotic. She had also told me, in our previous appointments, that I should probably plan on spending two days in the hospital because it was likely that I would miss my second does of the antibiotic for the beta-strep since my labors are so fast. (My previous labors were FAST!) So, I was going in with that mindset, that I would just be so fast...but, I'm wasn't even having contractions. I was all screwed up in my head because how can I go fast when I'm not even having contractions!? It had never happened this way before and it was trippin' me out.
So, me and my screwed-up mind got plugged into a tasty little drip of penicillin and proceeded to sit on the bed and get watched by Dustin. Now you have to understand that Dustin's usual role by the time we've reached the hospital is "labor coach extraordinaire". In my previous labors, he's all in my face with breathing patterns and firm-voiced commands for me to focus and look in his eyes. Nope. Not. this. time. As he's sitting in a chair ten feet away from me he marvels again, "I don't even know what I'm doing!" ...and, "It's like we've never done this before." ...or maybe a, "You'd think on our fourth kid we'd know what to expect, but this is all brand new and so bizarre."
Yep. It was weird.
We just stared at each other. I was tethered to a monitor that revealed that I actually was having some contractions. Nothing regular and nothing strong enough to write home about, but contractions there were. Despite the contractions, I found myself getting dozey. I wanted to just fall asleep. And Dustin decided he was hungry. But before I fell asleep and Dustin got some take-out, we decided to get up and walk the halls to see if we could get things going.
After our fifth or sixth lap around the Labor and Delivery floor, a nurse sitting at her front-desk-post said, "You must not be having very strong contractions because you're making WAY too good a time around this desk." And she was right. We had nothin'. In fact, I was walking faster than Dustin and he was asking me to slow down. Well, the term walking is a stretch. It was severe waddling, really.
We went back to our room and picked up where we left off, with Dustin sitting in his chair watching me not have any contractions. His stomach spoke up again and demanded attention and I told him to obey his body and feed it. Nothing was happening with my body anyway. So, he left.
And, of course, that was right about the time that Helene showed up. Perfect. Helene came and looked at my monitor readouts and marveled at the lack of action (considering I was eight days overdue) and, with raised eyebrows, said, "Let's talk options."
Options... that sounded ominous. I've never before had "options" during labor. It's always just been a "GO" thing. Well, a "GO" and a "OH MY GOSH! SHE'S COMPLETE!" and then a "CATCH" thing.
Helene started laying it out for me. She didn't want to check my dilation, due to my broken water. Didn't want to increase the risk of any germies. So, who knows how much I'm dilated, right? Right. Because my water was broken, she wanted me in active labor 24 hours from the initial break. We could do this one of several ways. I could continue walking, walking, walking the very boring Labor and Delivery floor, all the while hauling my "puppy" (as Dustin not-so-affectionately dubbed my I.V. cart) by it's leash. Or we could bring in a breast pump and get that oxytocin flowing that way.
"Does that work?" I asked.
Helene replied that she had just had a woman about a week before who used a pump and got her labor started. Cool. I was leaning toward that option.
"Or," she said, "we could start you on Pitocin and get you going and take you off when you're at about 5cm and let you labor on your own the rest of the way."
That option didn't sound so good. Anyone who's talked birth with me knows that I'm sorta anti-induction. I like to go "natural" or unmedicated and I had heard that Pit makes your contractions much more harsh and hard to deal with. They are hard enough to deal with on my own, so 'no thank you', I thought to myself.
"Well, Dustin is gone to grab some food and he'll be back in a minute, so how about I talk to him when he gets back and we'll figure out what we want to do." I told Helene.
She agreed and was going to leave to take her daughter, who was out in the hall, home and we'd call her when we decided what to do. Good plan.
Then, just as she was leaving, I asked her if she might want to check the baby's head to see if it had engaged in my pelvis because things had felt different the night before, like maybe the baby had dropped. "Good idea" she said.
And she grabbed that little baby head through my stomach and wiggled back and forth, the standard check. And she gasped.
"OH. MY. GOSH. That baby is still floating, Clancy!" Helene exclaimed. "I can't believe it!"
I couldn't believe it either. Just like everything else about this experience, this had never happened before. My babies have always dropped and been engaged at a normal time and stayed put. Not Brynja. She was floating all around in her little warm world with no interest in "dropping" into that exit position.
"This changes things, Clancy." Helene told me.
She explained to me that, since my water was broken and the baby was not engaged, it significantly increased the risk of cord abruption and we needed to get things happening sooner rather than later.
Crap.
I think this was about the time that Dustin showed up, appetite sated, and he was brought up to speed on recent discoveries. Helene decided to go ahead and check how far I was dilated so we knew where we were starting from. At my last appointment I was dilated to a measly 2 cm. She checked and, disappointed, told me I was not quite 3 cm.
Double crap.
Everyone was a little dismayed that I wasn't any further along than that. Helene, knowing how I felt about induction, told me what she thought the best course of action was: Pitocin. She wanted to put me on Pit and the monitors so they could watch the baby and make sure there was no problems with the cord and then take me off Pit when I was dilated to 5 or 6 cm and let me finish on my own. Dustin and I, not wanting to risk something as dangerous as cord abruption, concurred that Pitocin was the best course of action.
Triple crap.
Lucky for me, I was already hooked up to an I.V. so they just plugged in the Pit too. I noticed the contractions picking up soon after they plugged me in but they were fairly easy. Helene had left to take her daughter home and told me to have the nurses call her when I thought I needed her.
I know that the time was 12:30 pm when it all started, but there were no other markers of the time in my memory of that afternoon, except when it all ended at 7:14 pm.
I don't remember time, but I do remember the various stages of those seven hours. Those easy first contractions didn't last very long and quickly morphed into something I was having to breathe through. In my past labors I managed on my own with deep slow breaths and focused relaxation until I hit about 5 or 6 cm. So I did that for a little while. And I mean little. In no time at all I had Dustin in my face, back to the role he knew so well, Labor Coach. I had to change breathing patterns from those slow deep breaths to our "Ratio Breathing" that had gotten me through those tough contractions of the past. We did that for a while and then a nurse came in to check on us. She watched me go through a contraction and told me what great control I had. I managed a weak smile. I wasn't feeling so great.
Another contraction started up and I told her that she better call Helene because I was panting. It felt like I might be pushing soon.
The nurses called Helene at my request and then decided to check my cervix. At this point I was working HARD to keep myself focused and in control during the contractions, and I felt like I might need to push soon. I was sure I was going to be at least 7 cm dilated. I was working as hard as I ever had at 7, so it had to be so. The nurse checked me and gave me a 4 on my report card. What? Did she just say 4 cm? WHAT?! You've got to be kidding me. I couldn't believe it. COULD. NOT. BELIEVE. IT.
So, I continued on, breathing, moving as much as I could, tethered to the monitor and the I.V. cart as I was. (FYI, if you've never experienced unmedicated labor, moving helps A LOT in your ability to deal with the pain. At least it does for me and most women I've talked to.)
I had invited a few people to come to the delivery room., and one by one they showed up at various points throughout the day. My mom was first and then my dad. My good friend Rebby came at some point. And lastly, my sister Lacy. Some people freak out when I say that my dad was in the room. Labor is a personal experience and I'm ok with him there, so get over it! ;-) My dad coached my mom on all five of their kids (all unmedicated except my own birth) and he loves and honors the process of birth. He was there for several of his grandchildrens' births and since all his daughters are now done having babies, I wanted to make sure he was here as it was likely the last birth he'd be able to witness. And he was so grateful.
So I was working through contractions and they were getting harder and harder. Helene showed up again after they called her and I only remember begging her repeatedly to turn off the Pitocin. She wanted me to be at 5 or 6 cm before they turned it off though, so I continued. And before I was actually there, I begged some more and asked if I was a 5 cm yet.
Things get hazy here. Early on in this story, when I wasn't even having contractions, I mentioned that I was "dozey". I was falling asleep before I even started but, as things slowly progressed I got more and more tired. I remember hanging on the birth bar during a contraction. I was so exhausted that I couldn't even stand back up after the contraction ended. Dustin had to pull me up by my armpits. And I wasn't even at 5 cm yet! On that same birth bar I remember crying in between contractions. Sobbing... dripping tears and snot off my face. My brain was wacked out and I was completely exhausted and things were moving slow and contractions were coming HARD and FAST. It was misery at it's finest.
It was then that Helene suggested that I have a change of scenery. She had checked me at some point and I passed whatever milestone she was looking for before she turned off the Pit. I think she said I was at 7 cm then. In all honesty, I don't even remember the Pit getting turned off. I only know it was because she let me go try the shower or the jacuzzi. I chose the shower first. Bad move. It was FREEZING. For some reason, I didn't want to get my hair wet, so I was contracting, freezing and trying to keep water off my hair. Did I mention that I was crazy in my brain at that point? I really was.
The shower wasn't cutting it so I asked for the jacuzzi. It was down the hall and I remember trying to dry off and get to the jacuzzi before another contraction came. Dustin could tell I had one coming while I was in the hall and tried to stop me to get prepped for it. I pushed him aside and just told him to HURRY! I practically ran into the jacuzzi room, threw my hospital gown off and jumped into the water. I was insane.
I stayed in the jacuzzi for something like an hour to an hour and a half, I'd guess. Off Pitocin, my contractions started slowing down. It actually allowed me to rest between contractions which was just what I needed, I think. I remember falling asleep as I lay in the water. I only knew I was asleep because I had dreams. And I woke up to yet another contraction.
I remember making some crazy noises trying to deal with the pain. My voice got all hoarse from whatever I did. I remember feeling sorry for how pathetic my voice sounded. It sounded like a baby that has cried too long in it's bed. You know that scream? So sad. So pathetic. That was my worn out voice.
Dustin told me later that I had completely checked out at that point. I think he said it was about 5:00 when I got in the jacuzzi. He told me he gave up about that time. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help me anymore. I was off in my brain and body somewhere and I wouldn't come back and focus on him no matter what he tried. That had never happened before either. He's always been my rock. I would always turn to him and he would keep me grounded. In retrospect, I am 100% positive that it was the Pitocin coursing through my body that made me so nutty. Hormones make women crazy and Pit is just a synthetic hormone. I was out of my mind and didn't cope well at all. At least not compared to how I usually am in labor. I would lay there sleeping or zoning, sit up and howl through a contraction and then slide back into my stupor.
I remember laying in one of those stupors between contractions, sort of sleeping. It had been just Dustin and I in the jacuzzi room for a while. I heard the door open and I saw, through the thin crack I had let my eyes open, legs walking in the room. Legs wearing scrubs followed by legs wearing black velour pants, my mom's legs. I heard Helene whisper the question to Dustin, "How is she?"
"I think she's going backward," he whispered back.
That wasn't good, was it? There was longer and longer in between contractions giving me respites that I desperately needed. Can't be all bad. I remembered at a few moments in that jacuzzi thinking that maybe I should get an epidural. I really thought it would never end. Never.
Helene spoke to me then. "Clancy?"
I opened my eyes.
I think we need to do something different. Your contractions are slowing down and I think we need to get them going again. I'm thinking you need to get up and walk some, or maybe we could put you back on Pitocin for a little while.
*Whimper from Clancy.*
My mom heard the desperation in that sound. And, being my mom, offered another option. "Clancy," she said and looked right into my eyes, as only my mom can. "Maybe you can get out of this tub, go back to your room and get checked. Maybe you're really close and you just need to move a little bit to get things going again. At least then you can make more of an informed decision."
"Ok." I croaked with my howling-scream tired voice.
We managed to get back to the bed in my room. As Helene checked me I saw her eyebrows draw down and in a crestfallen voice, she told me, "Clancy... you're still a seven."
And, in Rebby's words, this is when Clancy swore. No one said anything then, but all those present in the room were ACHING for me. I hadn't progressed at all in the last almost two hours. I can't remember whether or not I cried.
Helene just looked at me with a furrowed brow for a minute or two. "What do you want to do?"
*Whimper*
*Contraction*
*More whimpering*
I had no idea. I wanted to die. I remember asking Helene to just make it come out. Just get it out, please.
Her face shifted a little bit. Light came into her eyes and she said, "You know, I wonder if that membrane is completely ruptured?"
"Huh?"
"When I was checking you, I thought I felt some membrane still covering the baby's head."
"How can that be?" I asked. "My water is broken, right?" Clearly, from all the "gushing" fluids earlier.
She told me that the amniotic sac actually has two layers. The outer one is thick and strong and the inner one is thin and weak and they usually break together. She even told me the names of them, but I don't recall them now. It might have been that just the outer layer broke.
"Would you like me to see if I can break that?" she asked.
"Sure. Yep. Do it." I replied.
So, the nurse fetched her the magic crochet hook and voila! There was still a little membrane left that she broke.
And that's when all hell broke loose.
...To be continued....
Part 3
So, the kids were dropped off, the photos were taken, a blessing was given and we were on our way. I choose to see a Certified Nurse Midwife for my pregnancies and the one I like happens to be in a town that is 30 miles away from where I live. So, I deliver at a hospital that is a good half hour trek from my house. For Ella and Rohan's birth, this half hour drive worried me a bit because I always have my babies fast once I'm in labor. With Brynja? Not so much. The worry factor was missing as I was not having any contractions to speak of. The whole ride up to the hospital, Dustin and I commented several times at how weird this was. "We're going to have a baby and I'm not even having contractions? Have we ever even done this before?" It was bizarre.
So, we arrive and get ourselves all checked in. My midwife, Helene, had called ahead and told them I was coming and needed to be started on my lovely little antibiotic. She had also told me, in our previous appointments, that I should probably plan on spending two days in the hospital because it was likely that I would miss my second does of the antibiotic for the beta-strep since my labors are so fast. (My previous labors were FAST!) So, I was going in with that mindset, that I would just be so fast...but, I'm wasn't even having contractions. I was all screwed up in my head because how can I go fast when I'm not even having contractions!? It had never happened this way before and it was trippin' me out.
So, me and my screwed-up mind got plugged into a tasty little drip of penicillin and proceeded to sit on the bed and get watched by Dustin. Now you have to understand that Dustin's usual role by the time we've reached the hospital is "labor coach extraordinaire". In my previous labors, he's all in my face with breathing patterns and firm-voiced commands for me to focus and look in his eyes. Nope. Not. this. time. As he's sitting in a chair ten feet away from me he marvels again, "I don't even know what I'm doing!" ...and, "It's like we've never done this before." ...or maybe a, "You'd think on our fourth kid we'd know what to expect, but this is all brand new and so bizarre."
Yep. It was weird.
We just stared at each other. I was tethered to a monitor that revealed that I actually was having some contractions. Nothing regular and nothing strong enough to write home about, but contractions there were. Despite the contractions, I found myself getting dozey. I wanted to just fall asleep. And Dustin decided he was hungry. But before I fell asleep and Dustin got some take-out, we decided to get up and walk the halls to see if we could get things going.
After our fifth or sixth lap around the Labor and Delivery floor, a nurse sitting at her front-desk-post said, "You must not be having very strong contractions because you're making WAY too good a time around this desk." And she was right. We had nothin'. In fact, I was walking faster than Dustin and he was asking me to slow down. Well, the term walking is a stretch. It was severe waddling, really.
We went back to our room and picked up where we left off, with Dustin sitting in his chair watching me not have any contractions. His stomach spoke up again and demanded attention and I told him to obey his body and feed it. Nothing was happening with my body anyway. So, he left.
And, of course, that was right about the time that Helene showed up. Perfect. Helene came and looked at my monitor readouts and marveled at the lack of action (considering I was eight days overdue) and, with raised eyebrows, said, "Let's talk options."
Options... that sounded ominous. I've never before had "options" during labor. It's always just been a "GO" thing. Well, a "GO" and a "OH MY GOSH! SHE'S COMPLETE!" and then a "CATCH" thing.
Helene started laying it out for me. She didn't want to check my dilation, due to my broken water. Didn't want to increase the risk of any germies. So, who knows how much I'm dilated, right? Right. Because my water was broken, she wanted me in active labor 24 hours from the initial break. We could do this one of several ways. I could continue walking, walking, walking the very boring Labor and Delivery floor, all the while hauling my "puppy" (as Dustin not-so-affectionately dubbed my I.V. cart) by it's leash. Or we could bring in a breast pump and get that oxytocin flowing that way.
"Does that work?" I asked.
Helene replied that she had just had a woman about a week before who used a pump and got her labor started. Cool. I was leaning toward that option.
"Or," she said, "we could start you on Pitocin and get you going and take you off when you're at about 5cm and let you labor on your own the rest of the way."
That option didn't sound so good. Anyone who's talked birth with me knows that I'm sorta anti-induction. I like to go "natural" or unmedicated and I had heard that Pit makes your contractions much more harsh and hard to deal with. They are hard enough to deal with on my own, so 'no thank you', I thought to myself.
"Well, Dustin is gone to grab some food and he'll be back in a minute, so how about I talk to him when he gets back and we'll figure out what we want to do." I told Helene.
She agreed and was going to leave to take her daughter, who was out in the hall, home and we'd call her when we decided what to do. Good plan.
Then, just as she was leaving, I asked her if she might want to check the baby's head to see if it had engaged in my pelvis because things had felt different the night before, like maybe the baby had dropped. "Good idea" she said.
And she grabbed that little baby head through my stomach and wiggled back and forth, the standard check. And she gasped.
"OH. MY. GOSH. That baby is still floating, Clancy!" Helene exclaimed. "I can't believe it!"
I couldn't believe it either. Just like everything else about this experience, this had never happened before. My babies have always dropped and been engaged at a normal time and stayed put. Not Brynja. She was floating all around in her little warm world with no interest in "dropping" into that exit position.
"This changes things, Clancy." Helene told me.
She explained to me that, since my water was broken and the baby was not engaged, it significantly increased the risk of cord abruption and we needed to get things happening sooner rather than later.
Crap.
I think this was about the time that Dustin showed up, appetite sated, and he was brought up to speed on recent discoveries. Helene decided to go ahead and check how far I was dilated so we knew where we were starting from. At my last appointment I was dilated to a measly 2 cm. She checked and, disappointed, told me I was not quite 3 cm.
Double crap.
Everyone was a little dismayed that I wasn't any further along than that. Helene, knowing how I felt about induction, told me what she thought the best course of action was: Pitocin. She wanted to put me on Pit and the monitors so they could watch the baby and make sure there was no problems with the cord and then take me off Pit when I was dilated to 5 or 6 cm and let me finish on my own. Dustin and I, not wanting to risk something as dangerous as cord abruption, concurred that Pitocin was the best course of action.
Triple crap.
Lucky for me, I was already hooked up to an I.V. so they just plugged in the Pit too. I noticed the contractions picking up soon after they plugged me in but they were fairly easy. Helene had left to take her daughter home and told me to have the nurses call her when I thought I needed her.
I know that the time was 12:30 pm when it all started, but there were no other markers of the time in my memory of that afternoon, except when it all ended at 7:14 pm.
I don't remember time, but I do remember the various stages of those seven hours. Those easy first contractions didn't last very long and quickly morphed into something I was having to breathe through. In my past labors I managed on my own with deep slow breaths and focused relaxation until I hit about 5 or 6 cm. So I did that for a little while. And I mean little. In no time at all I had Dustin in my face, back to the role he knew so well, Labor Coach. I had to change breathing patterns from those slow deep breaths to our "Ratio Breathing" that had gotten me through those tough contractions of the past. We did that for a while and then a nurse came in to check on us. She watched me go through a contraction and told me what great control I had. I managed a weak smile. I wasn't feeling so great.
Another contraction started up and I told her that she better call Helene because I was panting. It felt like I might be pushing soon.
The nurses called Helene at my request and then decided to check my cervix. At this point I was working HARD to keep myself focused and in control during the contractions, and I felt like I might need to push soon. I was sure I was going to be at least 7 cm dilated. I was working as hard as I ever had at 7, so it had to be so. The nurse checked me and gave me a 4 on my report card. What? Did she just say 4 cm? WHAT?! You've got to be kidding me. I couldn't believe it. COULD. NOT. BELIEVE. IT.
So, I continued on, breathing, moving as much as I could, tethered to the monitor and the I.V. cart as I was. (FYI, if you've never experienced unmedicated labor, moving helps A LOT in your ability to deal with the pain. At least it does for me and most women I've talked to.)
I had invited a few people to come to the delivery room., and one by one they showed up at various points throughout the day. My mom was first and then my dad. My good friend Rebby came at some point. And lastly, my sister Lacy. Some people freak out when I say that my dad was in the room. Labor is a personal experience and I'm ok with him there, so get over it! ;-) My dad coached my mom on all five of their kids (all unmedicated except my own birth) and he loves and honors the process of birth. He was there for several of his grandchildrens' births and since all his daughters are now done having babies, I wanted to make sure he was here as it was likely the last birth he'd be able to witness. And he was so grateful.
So I was working through contractions and they were getting harder and harder. Helene showed up again after they called her and I only remember begging her repeatedly to turn off the Pitocin. She wanted me to be at 5 or 6 cm before they turned it off though, so I continued. And before I was actually there, I begged some more and asked if I was a 5 cm yet.
Things get hazy here. Early on in this story, when I wasn't even having contractions, I mentioned that I was "dozey". I was falling asleep before I even started but, as things slowly progressed I got more and more tired. I remember hanging on the birth bar during a contraction. I was so exhausted that I couldn't even stand back up after the contraction ended. Dustin had to pull me up by my armpits. And I wasn't even at 5 cm yet! On that same birth bar I remember crying in between contractions. Sobbing... dripping tears and snot off my face. My brain was wacked out and I was completely exhausted and things were moving slow and contractions were coming HARD and FAST. It was misery at it's finest.
It was then that Helene suggested that I have a change of scenery. She had checked me at some point and I passed whatever milestone she was looking for before she turned off the Pit. I think she said I was at 7 cm then. In all honesty, I don't even remember the Pit getting turned off. I only know it was because she let me go try the shower or the jacuzzi. I chose the shower first. Bad move. It was FREEZING. For some reason, I didn't want to get my hair wet, so I was contracting, freezing and trying to keep water off my hair. Did I mention that I was crazy in my brain at that point? I really was.
The shower wasn't cutting it so I asked for the jacuzzi. It was down the hall and I remember trying to dry off and get to the jacuzzi before another contraction came. Dustin could tell I had one coming while I was in the hall and tried to stop me to get prepped for it. I pushed him aside and just told him to HURRY! I practically ran into the jacuzzi room, threw my hospital gown off and jumped into the water. I was insane.
I stayed in the jacuzzi for something like an hour to an hour and a half, I'd guess. Off Pitocin, my contractions started slowing down. It actually allowed me to rest between contractions which was just what I needed, I think. I remember falling asleep as I lay in the water. I only knew I was asleep because I had dreams. And I woke up to yet another contraction.
I remember making some crazy noises trying to deal with the pain. My voice got all hoarse from whatever I did. I remember feeling sorry for how pathetic my voice sounded. It sounded like a baby that has cried too long in it's bed. You know that scream? So sad. So pathetic. That was my worn out voice.
Dustin told me later that I had completely checked out at that point. I think he said it was about 5:00 when I got in the jacuzzi. He told me he gave up about that time. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help me anymore. I was off in my brain and body somewhere and I wouldn't come back and focus on him no matter what he tried. That had never happened before either. He's always been my rock. I would always turn to him and he would keep me grounded. In retrospect, I am 100% positive that it was the Pitocin coursing through my body that made me so nutty. Hormones make women crazy and Pit is just a synthetic hormone. I was out of my mind and didn't cope well at all. At least not compared to how I usually am in labor. I would lay there sleeping or zoning, sit up and howl through a contraction and then slide back into my stupor.
I remember laying in one of those stupors between contractions, sort of sleeping. It had been just Dustin and I in the jacuzzi room for a while. I heard the door open and I saw, through the thin crack I had let my eyes open, legs walking in the room. Legs wearing scrubs followed by legs wearing black velour pants, my mom's legs. I heard Helene whisper the question to Dustin, "How is she?"
"I think she's going backward," he whispered back.
That wasn't good, was it? There was longer and longer in between contractions giving me respites that I desperately needed. Can't be all bad. I remembered at a few moments in that jacuzzi thinking that maybe I should get an epidural. I really thought it would never end. Never.
Helene spoke to me then. "Clancy?"
I opened my eyes.
I think we need to do something different. Your contractions are slowing down and I think we need to get them going again. I'm thinking you need to get up and walk some, or maybe we could put you back on Pitocin for a little while.
*Whimper from Clancy.*
My mom heard the desperation in that sound. And, being my mom, offered another option. "Clancy," she said and looked right into my eyes, as only my mom can. "Maybe you can get out of this tub, go back to your room and get checked. Maybe you're really close and you just need to move a little bit to get things going again. At least then you can make more of an informed decision."
"Ok." I croaked with my howling-scream tired voice.
We managed to get back to the bed in my room. As Helene checked me I saw her eyebrows draw down and in a crestfallen voice, she told me, "Clancy... you're still a seven."
And, in Rebby's words, this is when Clancy swore. No one said anything then, but all those present in the room were ACHING for me. I hadn't progressed at all in the last almost two hours. I can't remember whether or not I cried.
Helene just looked at me with a furrowed brow for a minute or two. "What do you want to do?"
*Whimper*
*Contraction*
*More whimpering*
I had no idea. I wanted to die. I remember asking Helene to just make it come out. Just get it out, please.
Her face shifted a little bit. Light came into her eyes and she said, "You know, I wonder if that membrane is completely ruptured?"
"Huh?"
"When I was checking you, I thought I felt some membrane still covering the baby's head."
"How can that be?" I asked. "My water is broken, right?" Clearly, from all the "gushing" fluids earlier.
She told me that the amniotic sac actually has two layers. The outer one is thick and strong and the inner one is thin and weak and they usually break together. She even told me the names of them, but I don't recall them now. It might have been that just the outer layer broke.
"Would you like me to see if I can break that?" she asked.
"Sure. Yep. Do it." I replied.
So, the nurse fetched her the magic crochet hook and voila! There was still a little membrane left that she broke.
And that's when all hell broke loose.
...To be continued....
Part 3
Monday, June 28, 2010
Brynja's Story Part 1
It's been three months and eight days since my baby girl took her first breath and it's high time I tell her story as it is one that needs recording. Childbirth is one of my very favorite topics. I love to hear birth stories, and I love to talk about my own children's births. Not everyone feels the same as I, so if birth is something you'd rather not talk about, or in this case, read about, please feel free to skip this post.
For whatever reason, I did not want to write much during my pregnancy. Perhaps it's because this pregnancy was harder for me than any of my others. I was more sick than I was with Ella and Rohan, but not as sick as I was with Mac. Early in the pregnancy, I was so incredibly tired. I've never been so tired in my whole life. I was ready to go to bed at 6pm every day.
But it wasn't just how I felt physically that made this pregnancy harder. I feel like emotionally, or psychologically it was more difficult than ever. For the last few years I've known there was one more person that was supposed to be in our family, but I was very comfortable in my then-current circumstances in life and I had gotten far enough past the "baby" stage of child-rearing that it was hard to want to start anew with diapers, nursing, binkies, and sleepless nights. I honestly just wanted to be done, but my little Brynja was waiting and I knew it. Dustin knew it too (although he always denied it). Despite this mutual (but mostly unspoken) knowledge, years passed and the time was never right.
But then, suddenly, it was.
And I got pregnant.
Those nine months flew by and suddenly my due date, March 12th, was here!!! ...and then it was gone. I already wrote out some of those feelings previously. It was such a weird time. I had so much anxiety and yet so much detachment about having a baby. I was scared of labor this time. (I always am, but more so each pregnancy.) I was anxious about how my life would change once the baby was born. And yet, it felt like it was never really going to happen. It felt like, despite my ever-growing belly, it was not really going to happen. I wasn't really going to have a baby! As it turns out, I was and I did.
My due date came and went and I, relatively patiently, waited for something to happen. But nothing was despite all the walking and various other things we tried to start labor. I would show up to my midwife's office hoping for some progress with dilation or effacement and I was let down repeatedly. I was dilated to 1cm and "thick". The next week, no change. And the next week, barely dilated to a 2 and still no effacement. Then at almost a week over my due date I was still the same. It was very frustrating. Not to mention the fact that I kept thinking the baby had "dropped" because of the discomfort I was feeling and the fact that people continually told me I looked "lower" than I had been before. But each time she'd check the head position, the baby was still floating around, easy to move, not engaged at all. I only cried a handful of times.
And so, on Friday, the 19th of March, I thought perhaps my water had broken. But then I didn't know and I was left confused. I called Helene, who is my midwife, and she said unless it's "gushing" or consistently leaking not to worry about it. So, I didn't. Dustin and I went and got some food that night and I was sure that the baby dropped as we were out on the town. I was excited to go for a non-stress test the next morning at 10:00 to see if my suspicions were true.
We went to bed that night with no sign of anything happening. I woke up at about 4am and found that my water was definitely broken and was at the "gushing" stage. Awesome. If you haven't had your water break, you haven't LIVED! or something. I've never had that happen before. My water broke with Mac when I was in labor and dilated to 5cm, and Ella and Rohan's labors, my midwife broke my water just before they were born. So, this was new to me. Water breaking with no contractions? Weird.
I figured I'd be having a baby within the next 24 or so hours, so I took a shower! Yes, I took a shower, fixed my hair and put on some makeup at 4:30 a.m. I was going to look "cute" in labor, I decided. Vain? Maybe, but I do get tired of looking like total crap in all the pictures of post-delivery so call me vain if you must. Dustin was up with me and he showered too. As I was fixing my face/hair, Dustin decided he was going to go back to bed for a while and try and get some sleep. I finished my beautification and then puttered around and gathered the rest of my stuff for our hospital bag. It was very weird to be doing that with nary a contraction. Not even a ripple.
I got my bag all packed and it was almost 6am by that point. I didn't want to wake my midwife up unnecessarily early so I decided to follow Dustin's example and try to get some sleep, make-up, fancy hair and all. Into bed I climbed and I was asleep almost instantly.
Rohan woke me at 8:00 with his daily request for a bowl of cereal and the day was officially underway. And oh, what a day it was!
I called Helene, my midwife, and told her I was "gushing" fluid and she told me to eat some breakfast and head on up to the hospital to get started on my antibiotic. I was lucky enough to be Beta-Strep positive for the first time ever, and so I had the pleasure of an I.V. in my arm. I had one previously with Mac, but neither Rohan nor Ella's labor did they require it of me.
I had always assumed I'd go into labor in the middle of the night, because that's what I've done every other time. So, I had arranged for help with my other kids for the middle of the night. I never dreamed I'd have to arrange for my children on a Saturday morning. I made a few calls and got things arranged. We all ate some breakfast and packed up!
It's a very surreal feeling to leave your house with zero labor action and know the next time you come into it, you are going to have a baby in your arms.
So, we dropped our kids off at our friend's house. Rebby wanted to take a picture of Dustin and I, on our way to have a baby.
And there we are! Dustin and his big rarely-seen-in-pictures smile, and me, in all my round, feminine glory. Uh huh.
And off we went.
To be continued...
Part 2
For whatever reason, I did not want to write much during my pregnancy. Perhaps it's because this pregnancy was harder for me than any of my others. I was more sick than I was with Ella and Rohan, but not as sick as I was with Mac. Early in the pregnancy, I was so incredibly tired. I've never been so tired in my whole life. I was ready to go to bed at 6pm every day.
But it wasn't just how I felt physically that made this pregnancy harder. I feel like emotionally, or psychologically it was more difficult than ever. For the last few years I've known there was one more person that was supposed to be in our family, but I was very comfortable in my then-current circumstances in life and I had gotten far enough past the "baby" stage of child-rearing that it was hard to want to start anew with diapers, nursing, binkies, and sleepless nights. I honestly just wanted to be done, but my little Brynja was waiting and I knew it. Dustin knew it too (although he always denied it). Despite this mutual (but mostly unspoken) knowledge, years passed and the time was never right.
But then, suddenly, it was.
And I got pregnant.
Those nine months flew by and suddenly my due date, March 12th, was here!!! ...and then it was gone. I already wrote out some of those feelings previously. It was such a weird time. I had so much anxiety and yet so much detachment about having a baby. I was scared of labor this time. (I always am, but more so each pregnancy.) I was anxious about how my life would change once the baby was born. And yet, it felt like it was never really going to happen. It felt like, despite my ever-growing belly, it was not really going to happen. I wasn't really going to have a baby! As it turns out, I was and I did.
My due date came and went and I, relatively patiently, waited for something to happen. But nothing was despite all the walking and various other things we tried to start labor. I would show up to my midwife's office hoping for some progress with dilation or effacement and I was let down repeatedly. I was dilated to 1cm and "thick". The next week, no change. And the next week, barely dilated to a 2 and still no effacement. Then at almost a week over my due date I was still the same. It was very frustrating. Not to mention the fact that I kept thinking the baby had "dropped" because of the discomfort I was feeling and the fact that people continually told me I looked "lower" than I had been before. But each time she'd check the head position, the baby was still floating around, easy to move, not engaged at all. I only cried a handful of times.
And so, on Friday, the 19th of March, I thought perhaps my water had broken. But then I didn't know and I was left confused. I called Helene, who is my midwife, and she said unless it's "gushing" or consistently leaking not to worry about it. So, I didn't. Dustin and I went and got some food that night and I was sure that the baby dropped as we were out on the town. I was excited to go for a non-stress test the next morning at 10:00 to see if my suspicions were true.
We went to bed that night with no sign of anything happening. I woke up at about 4am and found that my water was definitely broken and was at the "gushing" stage. Awesome. If you haven't had your water break, you haven't LIVED! or something. I've never had that happen before. My water broke with Mac when I was in labor and dilated to 5cm, and Ella and Rohan's labors, my midwife broke my water just before they were born. So, this was new to me. Water breaking with no contractions? Weird.
I figured I'd be having a baby within the next 24 or so hours, so I took a shower! Yes, I took a shower, fixed my hair and put on some makeup at 4:30 a.m. I was going to look "cute" in labor, I decided. Vain? Maybe, but I do get tired of looking like total crap in all the pictures of post-delivery so call me vain if you must. Dustin was up with me and he showered too. As I was fixing my face/hair, Dustin decided he was going to go back to bed for a while and try and get some sleep. I finished my beautification and then puttered around and gathered the rest of my stuff for our hospital bag. It was very weird to be doing that with nary a contraction. Not even a ripple.
I got my bag all packed and it was almost 6am by that point. I didn't want to wake my midwife up unnecessarily early so I decided to follow Dustin's example and try to get some sleep, make-up, fancy hair and all. Into bed I climbed and I was asleep almost instantly.
Rohan woke me at 8:00 with his daily request for a bowl of cereal and the day was officially underway. And oh, what a day it was!
I called Helene, my midwife, and told her I was "gushing" fluid and she told me to eat some breakfast and head on up to the hospital to get started on my antibiotic. I was lucky enough to be Beta-Strep positive for the first time ever, and so I had the pleasure of an I.V. in my arm. I had one previously with Mac, but neither Rohan nor Ella's labor did they require it of me.
I had always assumed I'd go into labor in the middle of the night, because that's what I've done every other time. So, I had arranged for help with my other kids for the middle of the night. I never dreamed I'd have to arrange for my children on a Saturday morning. I made a few calls and got things arranged. We all ate some breakfast and packed up!
It's a very surreal feeling to leave your house with zero labor action and know the next time you come into it, you are going to have a baby in your arms.
So, we dropped our kids off at our friend's house. Rebby wanted to take a picture of Dustin and I, on our way to have a baby.
And there we are! Dustin and his big rarely-seen-in-pictures smile, and me, in all my round, feminine glory. Uh huh.
And off we went.
To be continued...
Part 2
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Distracted
I was right in the middle of a veritable cleaning frenzy. And now I'm distracted by my blog. I need to write things. I love to read them later. I just reread "Bounce" and it satisfied me to read it, silly as it was. And so...
My older three children are on a little trip right now. Dustin's parents met us halfway(ish) between our house and theirs and picked up Mac, Ella and Rohan. This morning the kiddos got to ride on a passenger train of Union Pacific's. I don't know details except that they were excited. I can't wait to hear about it.
This was important to Marsha, my mother-in-law, because her father was a train engineer for Union Pacific for a long long time. He retired with UP. She wanted her grandchildren to have an experience with trains and I wanted to be supportive of that desire. Not to mention my kids were STOKED to ride a train. I thought it sounded fun myself! But the thought of driving anywhere of any distance with my newish baby and without my husband makes me sweat. Brynja does not, particularly, enjoy riding in the car. So, we met them halfway and they took our kids and are keeping them for a couple days, which is a nice little break for me, coupled with the duality of missing them. *sigh*
Speaking of Brynja, she and I went on a long walk this morning. One hour, to be exact. I haven't moved my body very much since she was born. (or before, for that matter) It was excellent. I am anxious to get myself moving and get my body back into shape. Miss B seemed to like the stroller. She hasn't liked it much so far, but she's almost three months old now and she's becoming more aware of the world beyond the 3 feet surrounding her person. I think that made the difference in her stroller-enjoyment factor this morning, plus the fact that it was finally a pleasant temperature outside (hello, it's June 15th! 'Bout time, I say!).
Garage sale is still pending. I'm shooting for this weekend now. It's rather an involved process, preparing for it. And so, I best get back at it, the cleaning and yard-sale prep.
My older three children are on a little trip right now. Dustin's parents met us halfway(ish) between our house and theirs and picked up Mac, Ella and Rohan. This morning the kiddos got to ride on a passenger train of Union Pacific's. I don't know details except that they were excited. I can't wait to hear about it.
This was important to Marsha, my mother-in-law, because her father was a train engineer for Union Pacific for a long long time. He retired with UP. She wanted her grandchildren to have an experience with trains and I wanted to be supportive of that desire. Not to mention my kids were STOKED to ride a train. I thought it sounded fun myself! But the thought of driving anywhere of any distance with my newish baby and without my husband makes me sweat. Brynja does not, particularly, enjoy riding in the car. So, we met them halfway and they took our kids and are keeping them for a couple days, which is a nice little break for me, coupled with the duality of missing them. *sigh*
Speaking of Brynja, she and I went on a long walk this morning. One hour, to be exact. I haven't moved my body very much since she was born. (or before, for that matter) It was excellent. I am anxious to get myself moving and get my body back into shape. Miss B seemed to like the stroller. She hasn't liked it much so far, but she's almost three months old now and she's becoming more aware of the world beyond the 3 feet surrounding her person. I think that made the difference in her stroller-enjoyment factor this morning, plus the fact that it was finally a pleasant temperature outside (hello, it's June 15th! 'Bout time, I say!).
Garage sale is still pending. I'm shooting for this weekend now. It's rather an involved process, preparing for it. And so, I best get back at it, the cleaning and yard-sale prep.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Bounce
My thoughts are bouncy right now. I'm sitting at the computer at 12:27am and I'm reading various items while I listen to the washer and the dryer do their thing. I can't type fast enough. I'm having thoughts again. Thoughts that I want to share. Thoughts that I want to scribble out with my swirly handwriting. But I'll type instead.
Does anyone even read this anymore? I feel like I've forgotten how to blog.
When I die I want to be buried in a pine box. Like, a homemade one. I don't want thousands of dollars spent on my coffin. Just a simple pine box. Or cremation. That's ok with me.
I dislike cooking bacon. Do you know why? Because I can't stand my house to smell like bacon. And I can't stand my hair to smell like bacon. And let's not forget my clothes. I don't like my clothes to smell like bacon. Bacon tastes good. But the smell clings like the dickens.
I have a smell thing. I can't stand my hands to smell like food, unless it's cilantro. I love cilantro.
Today I put on my blue shirt. I love the color of this shirt.
When I put it on, I smelled the most wonderful smell! I was in heaven. I kept sniffing myself (well, my shirt, really) all day and wondered why I smelled so darned good.
Later I figured out that I wore this shirt last Friday. I had gone to the mall and tried a tester of perfume at The Gap. Guess what? I want that perfume. Bad.
I am not good at mailing things. Just so you know.
Sometimes I want to die when people come to my house. I get so self conscious about every imperfection. If ever anyone goes into my basement, I always ask them before they go down if they will still be my friend if they see how messy and crazy my basement is. Silly? Yes. And there's some sarcasm in the question... but mostly it's a valid fear.
My aim is to have a yard sale on Saturday. I'm excited and anxious about it.
I don't like planning birthday parties for my kids. The hardest part for me is getting out the invitations. I'm really not very good at this facet of parenthood. But that's ok with me. I'm good at the ones that are more important, I think.
I love doing laundry. Don't let me fool you if ever I'm complaining about it. It's very possible that it's my favorite household chore.
I'm trying some generic diapers tonight. Keep your fingers crossed for me and Miss B.
Speaking of Miss B, baby Brynja is precious. She laughed last Thursday and Friday nights. I told Mac about it when she did it the first time and he went on and on about how he just couldn't believe it. How she's growing up so fast. His face showed every emotion and he said, "That just makes me want to cry!" and I could see the tears just under the surface. What a sweet, tender boy. How many almost-ten-year-olds would be so thrilled and emotional about their baby sister laughing for the first time?
I love my life and my bouncy late-night thoughts.
Does anyone even read this anymore? I feel like I've forgotten how to blog.
When I die I want to be buried in a pine box. Like, a homemade one. I don't want thousands of dollars spent on my coffin. Just a simple pine box. Or cremation. That's ok with me.
I dislike cooking bacon. Do you know why? Because I can't stand my house to smell like bacon. And I can't stand my hair to smell like bacon. And let's not forget my clothes. I don't like my clothes to smell like bacon. Bacon tastes good. But the smell clings like the dickens.
I have a smell thing. I can't stand my hands to smell like food, unless it's cilantro. I love cilantro.
Today I put on my blue shirt. I love the color of this shirt.
Later I figured out that I wore this shirt last Friday. I had gone to the mall and tried a tester of perfume at The Gap. Guess what? I want that perfume. Bad.
I am not good at mailing things. Just so you know.
Sometimes I want to die when people come to my house. I get so self conscious about every imperfection. If ever anyone goes into my basement, I always ask them before they go down if they will still be my friend if they see how messy and crazy my basement is. Silly? Yes. And there's some sarcasm in the question... but mostly it's a valid fear.
My aim is to have a yard sale on Saturday. I'm excited and anxious about it.
I don't like planning birthday parties for my kids. The hardest part for me is getting out the invitations. I'm really not very good at this facet of parenthood. But that's ok with me. I'm good at the ones that are more important, I think.
I love doing laundry. Don't let me fool you if ever I'm complaining about it. It's very possible that it's my favorite household chore.
I'm trying some generic diapers tonight. Keep your fingers crossed for me and Miss B.
Speaking of Miss B, baby Brynja is precious. She laughed last Thursday and Friday nights. I told Mac about it when she did it the first time and he went on and on about how he just couldn't believe it. How she's growing up so fast. His face showed every emotion and he said, "That just makes me want to cry!" and I could see the tears just under the surface. What a sweet, tender boy. How many almost-ten-year-olds would be so thrilled and emotional about their baby sister laughing for the first time?
I love my life and my bouncy late-night thoughts.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Brynja Leigh and the Contest Winner
Hidee ho. I had a baby!
Most of you already know that thanks to the wonders of Facebook, but I did post a little contest on my blog a while ago and some of you might be wondering who the winner of that contest is!
This was a tough decision for me. I sat in my bed in the hospital making a chart of all the guesses, and figuring out who got what right. I was hoping that some soul would have guessed two of the three right, but sadly, no. Anyone who got any correct only got one. There were many guesses for girl, and INDEED, we got ourselves a girl! The most angelic little girl I've met. She's so sweet and mellow and I can't kiss her enough.
So, good job to all those who guessed girl, namely Polly, Maria, Jenn, Holly, Emily, Ginny, Jen, Kristin, and Marci!
Then we have the date... March 20th was it. She was born on the first day of Spring, which really fits somehow. Why didn't I think of that before?
We had one correct guess for the date and that was by my friend Beth. Good job, Beth! :)
And then the weight... my biggest baby yet! She weighed in at 8lbs 3oz. I could tell the moment they set her on me that she was bigger than my other kids. She just looked fuller in her skin. Ella came later... 11 days overdue, but she only weighed 7.13, Mac was 7.6 and Rohan was 7.3.
We also had just one correct guess on the weight and that was Miss Stevie Kay! Good job, Stevie!
But, alas, there was no one, not ONE person who guessed more than one correct "stat". I was in a quandry! I didn't know what to do. Dustin and I hashed over a few ideas and then I kind of forgot about the whole thing for a while.
And then the winner came to me. My exact words in the contest rules were: "The person whose answers come closest to the actual stats will win some homemade treats from me. " And guess what? Marci came the closest! She had one correct guess, GIRL. And then, her other picks were March 19, just one day off, and 8 lbs., 4 oz., just one ounce off! So, she was the closest to the actual stats!
Congratulations Marci! You are the winner of some homemade treats! I will get them to you some time in the next couple weeks. :)
Thanks to everyone for playing! It made that last little bit of overdue-ness more bearable to have more than just me guessing at when the baby would ever come.
And for your viewing enjoyment...
I want to write more about the labor, etc., but I will have to do that another day. My kids have been so sweet with their new little sister. They can't get enough of her! These pics are of her first day home from the hospital. She was not quite 48 hours old.
We are so blessed.
Most of you already know that thanks to the wonders of Facebook, but I did post a little contest on my blog a while ago and some of you might be wondering who the winner of that contest is!
This was a tough decision for me. I sat in my bed in the hospital making a chart of all the guesses, and figuring out who got what right. I was hoping that some soul would have guessed two of the three right, but sadly, no. Anyone who got any correct only got one. There were many guesses for girl, and INDEED, we got ourselves a girl! The most angelic little girl I've met. She's so sweet and mellow and I can't kiss her enough.
So, good job to all those who guessed girl, namely Polly, Maria, Jenn, Holly, Emily, Ginny, Jen, Kristin, and Marci!
Then we have the date... March 20th was it. She was born on the first day of Spring, which really fits somehow. Why didn't I think of that before?
We had one correct guess for the date and that was by my friend Beth. Good job, Beth! :)
And then the weight... my biggest baby yet! She weighed in at 8lbs 3oz. I could tell the moment they set her on me that she was bigger than my other kids. She just looked fuller in her skin. Ella came later... 11 days overdue, but she only weighed 7.13, Mac was 7.6 and Rohan was 7.3.
We also had just one correct guess on the weight and that was Miss Stevie Kay! Good job, Stevie!
But, alas, there was no one, not ONE person who guessed more than one correct "stat". I was in a quandry! I didn't know what to do. Dustin and I hashed over a few ideas and then I kind of forgot about the whole thing for a while.
And then the winner came to me. My exact words in the contest rules were: "The person whose answers come closest to the actual stats will win some homemade treats from me. " And guess what? Marci came the closest! She had one correct guess, GIRL. And then, her other picks were March 19, just one day off, and 8 lbs., 4 oz., just one ounce off! So, she was the closest to the actual stats!
Congratulations Marci! You are the winner of some homemade treats! I will get them to you some time in the next couple weeks. :)
Thanks to everyone for playing! It made that last little bit of overdue-ness more bearable to have more than just me guessing at when the baby would ever come.
And for your viewing enjoyment...
Miss Brynja Leigh
born March 20, 2010 at 7:14pm, weighing 8 lbs., 3 oz., 20 1/2" long.
(and her head and chest were both 14 1/4")
born March 20, 2010 at 7:14pm, weighing 8 lbs., 3 oz., 20 1/2" long.
(and her head and chest were both 14 1/4")
Mom and Brynja
(by the way, her name is pronounce BRIN-ya... Scandinavian J...)
Dad and Brynja
We are so blessed.
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