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.
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Thursday, July 29, 2010
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
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.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Due Date
So today is my "due date"... whatever that means. Just thought I should jot down a few thoughts about this pregnancy, pending labor and our up-and-coming baby.
I woke up this morning at 6:50. Dustin has been working out of town since Tuesday of this week and he often calls me right at 7:00 to wake me (just in case I don't wake to my alarm) so I can wake up Ella for school. (that's normally his role when he's home.) But today, Ella didn't have school, so I didn't want him to call because the phone would ring which would potentially wake up the kids and I had dreams of them sleeping in. So, I beat him to the punch and called him first. (which, by the way, kept the kids asleep for an extra twelve minutes... hooray.)
I could tell as soon as he said hello that he had been asleep, and, today being my "due date", he said hello in a bit of a panic. I couldn't believe I woke my husband up from a dead sleep at 6:50 a.m! He's ALWAYS awake by then. He's what you might call a morning person. (huge understatement) I assured him that I was not in labor and offered my apologies and expressions of shock that I woke him up. And then I got off the phone and promptly fell asleep again.
During that extra bit of sleep, I had a dream that I had my baby. It was a boy and I had it at home (but really in some sort of swimming pool... you know how dreams are). After the birth I got up, leaving the baby in the water where it was gently floating (I wasn't worried... you know how dreams are!), and went somewhere. I remember feeling disappointed. Not that it was a boy, but disappointed that it was so big! The baby looked like it was about 8 months old rather than newborn. It could sit up and it was wearing overalls and a striped T-shirt and looked like someone else's baby that I know. It didn't feel like my baby.
Then, in my dream, it was the next day and I was laying in my bed with my very large baby. I realized that I had no idea how much it weighed because we didn't have a scale to weigh it on. I was guessing this baby weighed about 18 pounds. I was trying to get used to this baby who felt like a stranger to me and I realized that it had my coloring. It even had freckles. (none of my kids have my coloring which is very fair and freckled, not to mention bright pink when exposed to the sun. My kids all brown up nicely in the sun, but none are quite as dark as Dustin who gets so sun-darkened he looks like he could be some another nationality) Seeing that it had my coloring was a small step toward feeling like it actually was my child, but I was still sad that I didn't get to have a newborn baby. I also realized that we had the baby 24 hours ago and we hadn't called anyone! So, I got out of bed to find the phone to call my mom and just then, in real life, Rohan called out to me and I got out of bed to help him with something. I was still looking for the phone to call my mom after I was really out of bed and it took me a good thirty seconds to realize that it was all a dream. I was actually still pregnant. I was going to get a newborn out of this deal after all, and I would get the chance to love it from that newborn-mother connection point rather than that strange baby that looked like it was 8 months old. My baby would weigh somewhere in a normal, I'm guessing, 7 pound range rather than an 18 pounder who already had freckles, teeth and the ability to sit up on it's own! I was so relieved!
I tell that story because, in all honesty, I've been very nervous about this baby... in all aspects. I've been nervous about the birth. I've been anxious about the change my lifestyle is about to take. I've been in a state of constant disassociation with the whole thing like it's not really real. Like it's someone else's life that's about to change, not mine. Even with my very large belly and very awkward body, I have continued to feel a sense of denial that this is actually happening to me... and soon. VERY soon at this point!
However, this dream was reassuring to me somehow. When I realized it was just a dream and that I would get my sweet, tiny little newborn rather than that big baby that didn't feel like my own, I was SO relieved! And I was excited! Excited to see what it would really look like. Would it really be a boy or would it be what Dustin has been so sure of all along, a girl? I was happy that I would be able to experience the birth and wonder of this brand new resident of Planet Earth! I couldn't stop thinking of that baby in my dream, but I didn't want to think of it anymore. I just wanted to see my own baby! I wanted to see that newborn one whom I will fall in love with... when we are both covered in all the stuff of birth that goes completely unnoticed in that magical moment of connection of mother and child. With those thoughts, I felt a thrill that I have not felt, except perhaps vaguely, in the last 9 months.
I think today I finally feel ready. Maybe that's what my "due date" was for this time around. It was the scheduled date for this reality to find it's way into my heart and become something tangible and exciting for me, rather than a nebulous, anxiety riddled unknown in my life. And it's really interesting to me that I can write this and express it now. I haven't wanted to write anything! And here it is... cohesive thoughts forming and flowing and wanting to find their release.
Dustin is on his way home right now from working out of town, and I feel like I can do this now. Dustin will be home. (having him gone so close to this date has made for several anxious days) I can cope with natural childbirth one last time, with my sweetheart's incredible help and his strength and power to lean on. I can have this baby come into my life with complete joy, excitement and acceptance rather than the reserve, fear and denial I've been experiencing off and on up to this point. Of course there will still be an adjustment period. Of course! There always is. A whole new element is being added to the dynamic of our family and that takes adjustments on all levels and for all of us involved, but I feel a thrill at the thought of it, rather than the skewed sense of fear I've been experiencing.
And I might, just might, even miss this body when it's all over. Dustin keeps reminding me that... to enjoy this for this last time. Enjoy those internal kicks and thumps... the continual reminders of the miracle occurring within me. He also watches me and tells me all the time how beautiful I am, how he loves my round belly, and how I am the embodiment of feminine power. (Golly, I love that man of mine.) I will try to enjoy this complete expression of feminism for however long I have left, despite any pain and awkwardness I feel.
Thank you, Due Date for this gift, and thank you to the unknown baby of my dream who allowed for this expression and excitement to find it's way into the dark fear-places of my heart and bring light.
And for posterity... some photos of the belly. These were taken two weeks ago.
Happy Friday everyone, and Happy Happy Due Date, me! ☺
I woke up this morning at 6:50. Dustin has been working out of town since Tuesday of this week and he often calls me right at 7:00 to wake me (just in case I don't wake to my alarm) so I can wake up Ella for school. (that's normally his role when he's home.) But today, Ella didn't have school, so I didn't want him to call because the phone would ring which would potentially wake up the kids and I had dreams of them sleeping in. So, I beat him to the punch and called him first. (which, by the way, kept the kids asleep for an extra twelve minutes... hooray.)
I could tell as soon as he said hello that he had been asleep, and, today being my "due date", he said hello in a bit of a panic. I couldn't believe I woke my husband up from a dead sleep at 6:50 a.m! He's ALWAYS awake by then. He's what you might call a morning person. (huge understatement) I assured him that I was not in labor and offered my apologies and expressions of shock that I woke him up. And then I got off the phone and promptly fell asleep again.
During that extra bit of sleep, I had a dream that I had my baby. It was a boy and I had it at home (but really in some sort of swimming pool... you know how dreams are). After the birth I got up, leaving the baby in the water where it was gently floating (I wasn't worried... you know how dreams are!), and went somewhere. I remember feeling disappointed. Not that it was a boy, but disappointed that it was so big! The baby looked like it was about 8 months old rather than newborn. It could sit up and it was wearing overalls and a striped T-shirt and looked like someone else's baby that I know. It didn't feel like my baby.
Then, in my dream, it was the next day and I was laying in my bed with my very large baby. I realized that I had no idea how much it weighed because we didn't have a scale to weigh it on. I was guessing this baby weighed about 18 pounds. I was trying to get used to this baby who felt like a stranger to me and I realized that it had my coloring. It even had freckles. (none of my kids have my coloring which is very fair and freckled, not to mention bright pink when exposed to the sun. My kids all brown up nicely in the sun, but none are quite as dark as Dustin who gets so sun-darkened he looks like he could be some another nationality) Seeing that it had my coloring was a small step toward feeling like it actually was my child, but I was still sad that I didn't get to have a newborn baby. I also realized that we had the baby 24 hours ago and we hadn't called anyone! So, I got out of bed to find the phone to call my mom and just then, in real life, Rohan called out to me and I got out of bed to help him with something. I was still looking for the phone to call my mom after I was really out of bed and it took me a good thirty seconds to realize that it was all a dream. I was actually still pregnant. I was going to get a newborn out of this deal after all, and I would get the chance to love it from that newborn-mother connection point rather than that strange baby that looked like it was 8 months old. My baby would weigh somewhere in a normal, I'm guessing, 7 pound range rather than an 18 pounder who already had freckles, teeth and the ability to sit up on it's own! I was so relieved!
I tell that story because, in all honesty, I've been very nervous about this baby... in all aspects. I've been nervous about the birth. I've been anxious about the change my lifestyle is about to take. I've been in a state of constant disassociation with the whole thing like it's not really real. Like it's someone else's life that's about to change, not mine. Even with my very large belly and very awkward body, I have continued to feel a sense of denial that this is actually happening to me... and soon. VERY soon at this point!
However, this dream was reassuring to me somehow. When I realized it was just a dream and that I would get my sweet, tiny little newborn rather than that big baby that didn't feel like my own, I was SO relieved! And I was excited! Excited to see what it would really look like. Would it really be a boy or would it be what Dustin has been so sure of all along, a girl? I was happy that I would be able to experience the birth and wonder of this brand new resident of Planet Earth! I couldn't stop thinking of that baby in my dream, but I didn't want to think of it anymore. I just wanted to see my own baby! I wanted to see that newborn one whom I will fall in love with... when we are both covered in all the stuff of birth that goes completely unnoticed in that magical moment of connection of mother and child. With those thoughts, I felt a thrill that I have not felt, except perhaps vaguely, in the last 9 months.
I think today I finally feel ready. Maybe that's what my "due date" was for this time around. It was the scheduled date for this reality to find it's way into my heart and become something tangible and exciting for me, rather than a nebulous, anxiety riddled unknown in my life. And it's really interesting to me that I can write this and express it now. I haven't wanted to write anything! And here it is... cohesive thoughts forming and flowing and wanting to find their release.
Dustin is on his way home right now from working out of town, and I feel like I can do this now. Dustin will be home. (having him gone so close to this date has made for several anxious days) I can cope with natural childbirth one last time, with my sweetheart's incredible help and his strength and power to lean on. I can have this baby come into my life with complete joy, excitement and acceptance rather than the reserve, fear and denial I've been experiencing off and on up to this point. Of course there will still be an adjustment period. Of course! There always is. A whole new element is being added to the dynamic of our family and that takes adjustments on all levels and for all of us involved, but I feel a thrill at the thought of it, rather than the skewed sense of fear I've been experiencing.
And I might, just might, even miss this body when it's all over. Dustin keeps reminding me that... to enjoy this for this last time. Enjoy those internal kicks and thumps... the continual reminders of the miracle occurring within me. He also watches me and tells me all the time how beautiful I am, how he loves my round belly, and how I am the embodiment of feminine power. (Golly, I love that man of mine.) I will try to enjoy this complete expression of feminism for however long I have left, despite any pain and awkwardness I feel.
Thank you, Due Date for this gift, and thank you to the unknown baby of my dream who allowed for this expression and excitement to find it's way into the dark fear-places of my heart and bring light.
And for posterity... some photos of the belly. These were taken two weeks ago.
This is my "I feel like a retard standing here smiling for the camera" face!
For this picture Dustin climbed onto the arm of our couch for an 'arial' view...
hence my look of "what the heck are you doing?"
Happy Friday everyone, and Happy Happy Due Date, me! ☺
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
A Free Tip
When you see a woman who is mere weeks away from her "due date", please refrain from asking "How are you feeling?" unless you really want to know...
She's feeling as big as a house. She can't breathe. She can't bend over and pick things up. She can't run to save her life. She hates all her clothes and wants to burn them. She's exhausted, but sleeping is misery. She misses her skinny ankles. She waddles and doesn't like it. She has ligament pain almost constantly. She hates washing dishes because she can't reach the water stream without twisiting or bending. She gets tired of the "bladder dance" going on inside her and the contractions that regularly accompany the dance. She can't get off the couch without either a helping hand or ridiculous body contortions and grunting. She can't sleep on her back and, when she has to switch from one side to the other, she can't help but think of beached whales. She wakes up completely when she does have to roll over for all the effort involved. She has heartburn as she lays in bed and sometimes wakes up from a dead sleep to find herself choking on bile. She has olfactory senses that are so acute that they pick up every strange scent in the vicinity, which is not necessarily to her benefit. She has no lap for her four year old to sit on. She has labor to look forward to...
I could go on and on.
Get it? Just ask a normal question like, "How are you?" Then she can smile and say, "Fine" or "As good as can be expected", and she won't feel like punching you in the face...
-This free tip was brought to you by The Very Pregnant Women for a Less Aggravating World Coalition
She's feeling as big as a house. She can't breathe. She can't bend over and pick things up. She can't run to save her life. She hates all her clothes and wants to burn them. She's exhausted, but sleeping is misery. She misses her skinny ankles. She waddles and doesn't like it. She has ligament pain almost constantly. She hates washing dishes because she can't reach the water stream without twisiting or bending. She gets tired of the "bladder dance" going on inside her and the contractions that regularly accompany the dance. She can't get off the couch without either a helping hand or ridiculous body contortions and grunting. She can't sleep on her back and, when she has to switch from one side to the other, she can't help but think of beached whales. She wakes up completely when she does have to roll over for all the effort involved. She has heartburn as she lays in bed and sometimes wakes up from a dead sleep to find herself choking on bile. She has olfactory senses that are so acute that they pick up every strange scent in the vicinity, which is not necessarily to her benefit. She has no lap for her four year old to sit on. She has labor to look forward to...
I could go on and on.
Get it? Just ask a normal question like, "How are you?" Then she can smile and say, "Fine" or "As good as can be expected", and she won't feel like punching you in the face...
-This free tip was brought to you by The Very Pregnant Women for a Less Aggravating World Coalition
Friday, February 5, 2010
Friday's Fabulous Five
It's been a while, but I'm trying to make a comeback!
Here's a bit of fabulousness for my Friday...
1- We got the report from our tax man today. It was good. Very good. I ♥ refunds...
2- Something that's tickled my mind with worry for the last several years will not be a worry anymore after next Tuesday. Although I'll still worry until probably Wednesday, I'm happy to have an end in sight.
3- My parents adopted a dog. She's awesome... a year old Irish Wolfhound/Greyhound mix. She's beautiful and sweet and big and wonderful and she lives at my parents' house, not mine. Dustin and my kids all have been wanting a dog, but I flatly refused telling them we're having our own little "puppy" soon. Now, they all have their dog-wish satiated without actually having a dog. Thank you mom and dad...my family thanks you too.
4- Books. I've been reading lots and lots of books. Love them. The Hunger Games and it's sequel, Catching Fire were fast, fun reads. I read both of those twice and anxiously await the third book in August. The Traveler, which I've read before but it's been a while, and it's sequel, The Dark River, which I'm reading right now (also read before). These two are a set of a trilogy, you see, and the third one came out last fall and I wanted to refresh my memory before I read this last one. So, I have the third one, The Golden City, waiting for me to read (that series is written by John Twelve Hawks, if anyone is interested). I also read The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale. Loved it! Love her style. I ♥ books.
5- Baby. Baby is coming. Baby is coming SOON!! Part of me hesitates to put this on here because, while it is a completely fabulous thing, I'm a little bit anxious about it. My due date looms just 5 1/2 weeks away. That's freakin' crazy! But, I'm excited to meet this little person who will rock our family's world for a few months while we settle in to getting to know each other. And the birth of this baby will also mean the end of my being pregnant. And let's just say that I'm getting to that point where labor is starting to sound better than pregnancy. So, bring on the contractions, baby! (in a few weeks.... not just yet as you need to bake a little longer!)
Happy Friday!
Here's a bit of fabulousness for my Friday...
1- We got the report from our tax man today. It was good. Very good. I ♥ refunds...
2- Something that's tickled my mind with worry for the last several years will not be a worry anymore after next Tuesday. Although I'll still worry until probably Wednesday, I'm happy to have an end in sight.
3- My parents adopted a dog. She's awesome... a year old Irish Wolfhound/Greyhound mix. She's beautiful and sweet and big and wonderful and she lives at my parents' house, not mine. Dustin and my kids all have been wanting a dog, but I flatly refused telling them we're having our own little "puppy" soon. Now, they all have their dog-wish satiated without actually having a dog. Thank you mom and dad...my family thanks you too.
4- Books. I've been reading lots and lots of books. Love them. The Hunger Games and it's sequel, Catching Fire were fast, fun reads. I read both of those twice and anxiously await the third book in August. The Traveler, which I've read before but it's been a while, and it's sequel, The Dark River, which I'm reading right now (also read before). These two are a set of a trilogy, you see, and the third one came out last fall and I wanted to refresh my memory before I read this last one. So, I have the third one, The Golden City, waiting for me to read (that series is written by John Twelve Hawks, if anyone is interested). I also read The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale. Loved it! Love her style. I ♥ books.
5- Baby. Baby is coming. Baby is coming SOON!! Part of me hesitates to put this on here because, while it is a completely fabulous thing, I'm a little bit anxious about it. My due date looms just 5 1/2 weeks away. That's freakin' crazy! But, I'm excited to meet this little person who will rock our family's world for a few months while we settle in to getting to know each other. And the birth of this baby will also mean the end of my being pregnant. And let's just say that I'm getting to that point where labor is starting to sound better than pregnancy. So, bring on the contractions, baby! (in a few weeks.... not just yet as you need to bake a little longer!)
Happy Friday!
Monday, January 11, 2010
And How About....
.... some more happenings? Because I'm sure you've just been DYING to know what it is that I've been doing with myself. Well, you see, a few days after Christmas I had a Dr. appointment for the little child growing in my body. (midwife appt, but you get the idea) At this lovely appointment, I had the joyous pleasure of taking my "glucose tolerance test" which (for anyone who has not had the JOY and pleasure of this) is a test where you drink this stuff that's basically like the syrup that they hook to a pop machine BEFORE it mixes with the bubbly carbonated water. Can you say NASTY? Ick.
Guess what? I failed it. Turns out the highest your blood should go from drinking the nastiness is about 40. Well, my little blood sugars were up at 55. I was not happy. Especially because I got to go back and do the in depth test.
"In depth" means that you have to come to your appointment fasting (which means as early as possible in the a.m., of which I am not so much a fan), get your finger lanced to check your blood, AND then you get to drink the sugary nastiness AGAIN but this time on your fastingly-empty stomach. BARF. Literally. I almost did. In fact, just writing this is making the muscles at the back of my jaw clench up and my saliva run. I decided to chug the last little bit of it because I thought it would be better faster. It did get it over with, but it did almost come back up. But, I managed to keep it down. (GO ME!)
SO then, after you almost barf, you get to sit there and wait for an hour for your blood to do whatever it is your blood does with sugary nastiness. Then a different finger gets bloodied and they test that. Then you get to sit there for ANOTHER hour and they bloody yet another finger.
So, yeah. It's pretty much a party. There was three good things that came of it.
1) Turns out, I do not have gestational diabetes. Hip-hip HOORAY!
2) An "in depth" glucose tolerance test makes for good reading time for any new, large books you might have gotten for Christmas! (which I just finished last night and I think I'm grumpy today because it's over and the author opened a big old can of worms in this book and left it completely open with all those little worms writhing in the can and then had the nerve to END the book! AND it's probably going to be something like three years before she'll come out with the next book!! Grrowl.)
3) Since my Midwife's office is in the same city as my husband works, I got to go break my barfy fast by having lunch with my sweet Dustin! That never happens because he works about 30 miles from home. By the way, Great Harvest's Turkey Pesto sandwich is really good. You should try it.
So, there's another snippet of happenings in Clancy's life.
I'm down to 8 1/2 weeks left of pregnancy. THAT is trippy. I'm on the Dr. appointment fast track... we're now going every two weeks to see the Dr. (midwife) and that only lasts for a month and then it's every week until the baby is born! Where does the time go? I'm not really ready for a baby, I'm pretty sure. But that's another post for another day.
Over and out.
Guess what? I failed it. Turns out the highest your blood should go from drinking the nastiness is about 40. Well, my little blood sugars were up at 55. I was not happy. Especially because I got to go back and do the in depth test.
"In depth" means that you have to come to your appointment fasting (which means as early as possible in the a.m., of which I am not so much a fan), get your finger lanced to check your blood, AND then you get to drink the sugary nastiness AGAIN but this time on your fastingly-empty stomach. BARF. Literally. I almost did. In fact, just writing this is making the muscles at the back of my jaw clench up and my saliva run. I decided to chug the last little bit of it because I thought it would be better faster. It did get it over with, but it did almost come back up. But, I managed to keep it down. (GO ME!)
SO then, after you almost barf, you get to sit there and wait for an hour for your blood to do whatever it is your blood does with sugary nastiness. Then a different finger gets bloodied and they test that. Then you get to sit there for ANOTHER hour and they bloody yet another finger.
So, yeah. It's pretty much a party. There was three good things that came of it.
1) Turns out, I do not have gestational diabetes. Hip-hip HOORAY!
2) An "in depth" glucose tolerance test makes for good reading time for any new, large books you might have gotten for Christmas! (which I just finished last night and I think I'm grumpy today because it's over and the author opened a big old can of worms in this book and left it completely open with all those little worms writhing in the can and then had the nerve to END the book! AND it's probably going to be something like three years before she'll come out with the next book!! Grrowl.)
3) Since my Midwife's office is in the same city as my husband works, I got to go break my barfy fast by having lunch with my sweet Dustin! That never happens because he works about 30 miles from home. By the way, Great Harvest's Turkey Pesto sandwich is really good. You should try it.
So, there's another snippet of happenings in Clancy's life.
I'm down to 8 1/2 weeks left of pregnancy. THAT is trippy. I'm on the Dr. appointment fast track... we're now going every two weeks to see the Dr. (midwife) and that only lasts for a month and then it's every week until the baby is born! Where does the time go? I'm not really ready for a baby, I'm pretty sure. But that's another post for another day.
Over and out.
Friday, December 4, 2009
New Life
This morning, as sleep was walking that precarious line of hanging on and sloughing off of my shrouded mind, I realized I had hands on my belly. I was laying on my back and must have been for some time because, as I was slowly waking up, I realized that my back was hurting me and I needed to move. I didn't want to though. While I was sleeping, my husband was laying there, hands on my tummy, feeling our baby move under my skin. I didn't want to disturb the moment.
Realizing after a few minutes that there seemed to be no movement in utero to disturb, I rolled onto my side. Dustin's hands remained on my belly waiting for more fetal acrobatics. I continued drifting in and out of sleep and, after an unknown quantity of time, Dustin got up to get ready for work. After he showered, he came back in our room and found me a little more coherent.
"I was playing with the baby while you were asleep," he informed me.
I responded, "I noticed your hands on my belly as I was waking up, but I didn't feel the baby moving at all. Was it actually moving?"
"Oh yeah! Totally!" he replied enthusiastically. "It would kick and I'd give a little push back. I'd feel a little limb and bounce it off my hand. It moved a lot and for a long time. The baby and I were having fun!"
Weird how I could be so asleep to not even notice any of that going on. But as I lay there thinking after he walked away, I was very grateful that I stayed asleep through it all. He got his own time "with the baby" as I was lost to the waking world.
A few minutes later, Ella walked in the room. She had a bad dream for the second morning in a row. Comforting words were said and she climbed in bed next to me filling Dustin's vacated spot. We lay there a few minutes and suddenly the baby got very tiny hiccups. I took Ella's hands and, placing them over the rhythmic hiccup-zone, told her of the baby's condition.
She got very excited as she felt the little repetitive jolts. "I can FEEL it, Mom!" she whispered enthusiastically. Suddenly, the baby decided it was awake and ready to roll around. The big sister thrilled at the various kicks and motions she felt. Swells of miniature body parts protruded and she informed me of every action. She laughed out loud several times. She asked what she was feeling... "Was that it's head? Is that it's leg? How does it make that bump stick out? What was that little bump?"
"I don't know Ella," I replied. "I wonder the same things all the time and I can never quite imagine the little person that can make all that movement simultaneously!"
As we lay there, I told her that her daddy was "playing" with the baby this morning while I was sleeping. She laughed. I suddenly realized that she, being my only daughter thus far, (March will tell if she is my only daughter ever) would one day, in all probability, get to experience this very thing, but from her own body, not just feeling it through her mother. I told her this, that one day she could feel this too but feel it all the time, every day as a new life develops into a whole, and very tiny human being.
I marveled, as I have time and time before, at the wonder of being a woman. This is a precious time, a wonderful gift that my body can give. I love feeling those jolts of a new life inside of me. Dustin can feel it from the outside as he lays there in dark, but OH!, the joy I experience with each little tap or roll from within! It is a wonder, a marvel and a miracle.
And with that thought, I say again... I love being a woman.
Realizing after a few minutes that there seemed to be no movement in utero to disturb, I rolled onto my side. Dustin's hands remained on my belly waiting for more fetal acrobatics. I continued drifting in and out of sleep and, after an unknown quantity of time, Dustin got up to get ready for work. After he showered, he came back in our room and found me a little more coherent.
"I was playing with the baby while you were asleep," he informed me.
I responded, "I noticed your hands on my belly as I was waking up, but I didn't feel the baby moving at all. Was it actually moving?"
"Oh yeah! Totally!" he replied enthusiastically. "It would kick and I'd give a little push back. I'd feel a little limb and bounce it off my hand. It moved a lot and for a long time. The baby and I were having fun!"
Weird how I could be so asleep to not even notice any of that going on. But as I lay there thinking after he walked away, I was very grateful that I stayed asleep through it all. He got his own time "with the baby" as I was lost to the waking world.
A few minutes later, Ella walked in the room. She had a bad dream for the second morning in a row. Comforting words were said and she climbed in bed next to me filling Dustin's vacated spot. We lay there a few minutes and suddenly the baby got very tiny hiccups. I took Ella's hands and, placing them over the rhythmic hiccup-zone, told her of the baby's condition.
She got very excited as she felt the little repetitive jolts. "I can FEEL it, Mom!" she whispered enthusiastically. Suddenly, the baby decided it was awake and ready to roll around. The big sister thrilled at the various kicks and motions she felt. Swells of miniature body parts protruded and she informed me of every action. She laughed out loud several times. She asked what she was feeling... "Was that it's head? Is that it's leg? How does it make that bump stick out? What was that little bump?"
"I don't know Ella," I replied. "I wonder the same things all the time and I can never quite imagine the little person that can make all that movement simultaneously!"
As we lay there, I told her that her daddy was "playing" with the baby this morning while I was sleeping. She laughed. I suddenly realized that she, being my only daughter thus far, (March will tell if she is my only daughter ever) would one day, in all probability, get to experience this very thing, but from her own body, not just feeling it through her mother. I told her this, that one day she could feel this too but feel it all the time, every day as a new life develops into a whole, and very tiny human being.
I marveled, as I have time and time before, at the wonder of being a woman. This is a precious time, a wonderful gift that my body can give. I love feeling those jolts of a new life inside of me. Dustin can feel it from the outside as he lays there in dark, but OH!, the joy I experience with each little tap or roll from within! It is a wonder, a marvel and a miracle.
And with that thought, I say again... I love being a woman.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Thoughts and Events
So, my blogging career, which once served me such delicious bites of verbal release, has taken a nose-dive. And I'm fine with that, mostly.
I was reading through some old posts a few weeks ago and I got all teary-eyed remembering how much I always gained from my verbose self-expression on these empty white boxes we call, "New Posts". I loved to conjure a story from nothing. I loved to express my feelings. I loved to tell some event in some creative or whimsical way. I loved to make myself laugh. (I always hoped I was making other people laugh too, but I was always laughing enough at myself to be satisfied... regardless of the state of other people's chuckle-meter) I loved COMMENTS!!! (I still love comments, but let's be honest here, Clancy... you have to POST to have COMMENTS.) I loved to see another follower show up on my sidebar. I loved to see that people wanted to read what I was saying, as shocking as that was sometimes.
And now... I draw blank after blank. And I'm ok with that... mostly. I keep saying mostly because I feel like I'm missing something. I feel like I've lost a friend. But, I also have realized that there are times and places for everything in life and my blog has taken a back burner to several things in my life.
I spend much of my daily life homeschooling my son. It is going well, I think, and I think it has been so good for him. I think he is retaining some of the innocence of youth that might otherwise be taken preemptively in this fast-paced world. He is such a sweet kid, despite how some days I feel like he might be the death of me. Although, as he is maturing those days are becoming more and more rare. He is growing up and I couldn't be more proud of the young man he is turning into. His latest thing is to sit with the "grownups" while we are talking. He is happy to just listen to adults talk. I must admit that I was the same when I was a child. Sometimes it is aggravating, but how can I get frustrated with him when he is simply being me? (sometimes that's why I get frustrated with him, I think...) He says big things that often take me by surprise.
In science we have been talking about solutions: solutes and solvents. It has been fun for me to go through all this with him as I often learn something new or simply relearn a forgotten thing. In today's lesson we learned about saturation of a solvent and how temperature of the solvent can affect the solubility and therefore the saturation point.
On his lesson assessment there was a question that had a graph to the side showing solubility and temperature of the solvent. The question asked, "What can we conclude from this graph?" We read the choices together... "A." I said, "Decreasing temperature increased the solubility for all three substances."
"No," he said. "Not that one."
"B." I read. "Increasing volume increases solubility for all three substances."
In all seriousness and without missing a beat, he said, "Pantene will increase your volume!" He was so proud of himself that he knew that! I was so taken off guard by his use of the term 'volume', especially because it was verbatum from a TV ad, or more likely, straight off the Pantene bottle in our shower that I burst out laughing! Looking slightly abashed, he asked what was so funny. I schooled my face back into seriousness and told him that clever advertisers say that Pantene will make your hair look more full, or have "volume". I then explained what they meant by the term 'volume' on his science assessment. He laughed a little and I told him how smart he was and what a good memory he has and we moved on.
I had to record that one. Rohan still says adorable things all the time because he's only four. Ella still says cute things too off and on... or simply funny things that she thinks is fact. Mac now says smart things all the time (sometimes that would be brainy-smart, other times that would be sassy-smart...) and is getting old enough that he doesn't say very many "cute" things anymore. But today, he was cute, precocious and without guile. I love that child of mine and I had to record some cuteness while I still can.
So... that is one thing that my blog has taken a back burner to. Homeschooling. A very large chunk of my time each day is devoted to that awesome, frustrating, incredible, wonderful and cumbersome tservice that I am blessed to be able to offer to my son. I think some people don't approve of my choice to homeschool. I have discovered this disapproval comes across in many interesting and subtle varieties. Little looks people give me, little things they say. I honestly don't care who approves and who doesn't, but it's interesting to observe people. What they think they are keeping to themselves is really glaringly obvious to me. I just laugh to myself and think of the subtle differences I can see in my son and I know I'm doing the right thing.
Pregnancy must be another thing that blogging sits behind. Seems like it should be no big thing. Lots of people blog just fine while pregnant. But not me, apparently.
I'm 24 weeks now. I realized that my last post about being irritated by questions about my baby bump was a little harsh. I went to New Moon with some girlfriends and one of them that I didn't know super well said, "I read your blog and so I know I shouldn't ask you about your belly."
Crap!
Not true. If you see me, feel free to ask, folks. I was particularly irriatated that day and the people I spoke of just didn't seem to really care... it just seemed like they were making idle conversation. (Which may be untrue. That conclusion may simply have been the filter of my crabby, bugged mood.) Anyway, if you see me, don't be afraid of me scratching your eyes out if you ask me about my baby! I will be nice. I promise. If you see me glaze over and step out of my body, know that I'm having an wool-blanket-itchy-I-can't-stand-to-be-in-my-skin day. It's not you. It's me.
So... I had more thoughts, but they have recently checked out and this brain is now vacant. Just thought I'd update a little with a few thoughts and happenings. I am still alive and breathing... just doing so while almost completely ignoring my blog.
And now, this sleepy, blog-ignoring girl is going to bed. Goodnight.
I was reading through some old posts a few weeks ago and I got all teary-eyed remembering how much I always gained from my verbose self-expression on these empty white boxes we call, "New Posts". I loved to conjure a story from nothing. I loved to express my feelings. I loved to tell some event in some creative or whimsical way. I loved to make myself laugh. (I always hoped I was making other people laugh too, but I was always laughing enough at myself to be satisfied... regardless of the state of other people's chuckle-meter) I loved COMMENTS!!! (I still love comments, but let's be honest here, Clancy... you have to POST to have COMMENTS.) I loved to see another follower show up on my sidebar. I loved to see that people wanted to read what I was saying, as shocking as that was sometimes.
And now... I draw blank after blank. And I'm ok with that... mostly. I keep saying mostly because I feel like I'm missing something. I feel like I've lost a friend. But, I also have realized that there are times and places for everything in life and my blog has taken a back burner to several things in my life.
I spend much of my daily life homeschooling my son. It is going well, I think, and I think it has been so good for him. I think he is retaining some of the innocence of youth that might otherwise be taken preemptively in this fast-paced world. He is such a sweet kid, despite how some days I feel like he might be the death of me. Although, as he is maturing those days are becoming more and more rare. He is growing up and I couldn't be more proud of the young man he is turning into. His latest thing is to sit with the "grownups" while we are talking. He is happy to just listen to adults talk. I must admit that I was the same when I was a child. Sometimes it is aggravating, but how can I get frustrated with him when he is simply being me? (sometimes that's why I get frustrated with him, I think...) He says big things that often take me by surprise.
In science we have been talking about solutions: solutes and solvents. It has been fun for me to go through all this with him as I often learn something new or simply relearn a forgotten thing. In today's lesson we learned about saturation of a solvent and how temperature of the solvent can affect the solubility and therefore the saturation point.
On his lesson assessment there was a question that had a graph to the side showing solubility and temperature of the solvent. The question asked, "What can we conclude from this graph?" We read the choices together... "A." I said, "Decreasing temperature increased the solubility for all three substances."
"No," he said. "Not that one."
"B." I read. "Increasing volume increases solubility for all three substances."
In all seriousness and without missing a beat, he said, "Pantene will increase your volume!" He was so proud of himself that he knew that! I was so taken off guard by his use of the term 'volume', especially because it was verbatum from a TV ad, or more likely, straight off the Pantene bottle in our shower that I burst out laughing! Looking slightly abashed, he asked what was so funny. I schooled my face back into seriousness and told him that clever advertisers say that Pantene will make your hair look more full, or have "volume". I then explained what they meant by the term 'volume' on his science assessment. He laughed a little and I told him how smart he was and what a good memory he has and we moved on.
I had to record that one. Rohan still says adorable things all the time because he's only four. Ella still says cute things too off and on... or simply funny things that she thinks is fact. Mac now says smart things all the time (sometimes that would be brainy-smart, other times that would be sassy-smart...) and is getting old enough that he doesn't say very many "cute" things anymore. But today, he was cute, precocious and without guile. I love that child of mine and I had to record some cuteness while I still can.
So... that is one thing that my blog has taken a back burner to. Homeschooling. A very large chunk of my time each day is devoted to that awesome, frustrating, incredible, wonderful and cumbersome tservice that I am blessed to be able to offer to my son. I think some people don't approve of my choice to homeschool. I have discovered this disapproval comes across in many interesting and subtle varieties. Little looks people give me, little things they say. I honestly don't care who approves and who doesn't, but it's interesting to observe people. What they think they are keeping to themselves is really glaringly obvious to me. I just laugh to myself and think of the subtle differences I can see in my son and I know I'm doing the right thing.
Pregnancy must be another thing that blogging sits behind. Seems like it should be no big thing. Lots of people blog just fine while pregnant. But not me, apparently.
I'm 24 weeks now. I realized that my last post about being irritated by questions about my baby bump was a little harsh. I went to New Moon with some girlfriends and one of them that I didn't know super well said, "I read your blog and so I know I shouldn't ask you about your belly."
Crap!
Not true. If you see me, feel free to ask, folks. I was particularly irriatated that day and the people I spoke of just didn't seem to really care... it just seemed like they were making idle conversation. (Which may be untrue. That conclusion may simply have been the filter of my crabby, bugged mood.) Anyway, if you see me, don't be afraid of me scratching your eyes out if you ask me about my baby! I will be nice. I promise. If you see me glaze over and step out of my body, know that I'm having an wool-blanket-itchy-I-can't-stand-to-be-in-my-skin day. It's not you. It's me.
So... I had more thoughts, but they have recently checked out and this brain is now vacant. Just thought I'd update a little with a few thoughts and happenings. I am still alive and breathing... just doing so while almost completely ignoring my blog.
And now, this sleepy, blog-ignoring girl is going to bed. Goodnight.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Ella
I've been having a wardrobe problem, as, I'm sure, anyone who has ever been pregnant can relate to. It's been getting better as I continue to grow abdominally. I can now hold up a few pairs of maternity pants without them falling off. But I have whined a little bit to my friend Rebby about this problem. It would appear that I only want to wear pajamas because they are comfy.
The other night, after a bit of whining about my clothes and my dreams of being in my pajamas, Rebby sent me home with a very comfy pair of yoga-ish pants and a shirt that matches. Today, I was still wearing my PJs when someone came to the door. This was not the hour one should still be in PJs so I quickly ran and threw on the borrowed comfy clothes from Rebby. I visited with my visitor for a while and then went to get Ella from school.
Ella climbed in the car and, as she sat down, I heard her little nose sniffing. She sat there testing the air for a few seconds as I was backing out of my parking spot. After a those few sniffs she asked me, "Did Grace and Olivia come over today?"
"No," I replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Because it smells like their house in our car," she replied.
I laughed out loud and told her to smell my clothes. Grace and Olivia are Rebby's two younger daughters.
"Why do you smell like Rebby's house, Mom?" she asked. "Did you go over there today?"
"No, these are Rebby's clothes," I replied. "She let me borrow them."
Rebby's clothes, by the way, smell like fresh laundry... this is a good smell.
Her little sniffer was satiated and she let the conversation drop. Maybe I could hire her out as a hound dog part-time?
The other night, after a bit of whining about my clothes and my dreams of being in my pajamas, Rebby sent me home with a very comfy pair of yoga-ish pants and a shirt that matches. Today, I was still wearing my PJs when someone came to the door. This was not the hour one should still be in PJs so I quickly ran and threw on the borrowed comfy clothes from Rebby. I visited with my visitor for a while and then went to get Ella from school.
Ella climbed in the car and, as she sat down, I heard her little nose sniffing. She sat there testing the air for a few seconds as I was backing out of my parking spot. After a those few sniffs she asked me, "Did Grace and Olivia come over today?"
"No," I replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Because it smells like their house in our car," she replied.
I laughed out loud and told her to smell my clothes. Grace and Olivia are Rebby's two younger daughters.
"Why do you smell like Rebby's house, Mom?" she asked. "Did you go over there today?"
"No, these are Rebby's clothes," I replied. "She let me borrow them."
Rebby's clothes, by the way, smell like fresh laundry... this is a good smell.
Her little sniffer was satiated and she let the conversation drop. Maybe I could hire her out as a hound dog part-time?
Friday, September 18, 2009
First Week
This is completely a "for my own records" post, just so I can have it recorded. Therefore, it is, potentially, rather boring. Sorry.
I mentioned that we are keeping Mac at home this year for school. The Idaho Virtual Academy "powered by K12" is our method of choice. In my ideal world, I would be choosing all his curriculum and planning it all myself. But, alas, I know my own limits and that is way more than I feel capable of at this point in my life. And that's o.k. K-12 it is!
We got all our "materials" a week ago today. (At the end of the day, so we didn't use them, we just got them out and looked at them.) We officially "started" on Monday. Monday didn't go so well. If you don't recall, look at my post that day and it will give you an idea of my Monday. That post wasn't entirely about my son or homeschooling, but those two things were the catalyst for a lot of dormant emotions and, to put it nicely, I lost it.
Tuesday wasn't easy, but I was in a better place.
Wednesday was quite good with a few, minor rough spots.
Thursday was good too... I think. I'm starting to blur a little on the details...
Today was long, but should have been short. We didn't have that much to do, but Mac likes to drag his feet and dilly-dally. It makes me crazy-insane, but somehow I've managed (aside from Monday) to keep my head and stay cool. (Go me!) This day had a lot of potential for being totally awful... maybe like Monday... but I chose to be chill and not react (...much. Does slamming my fist on the table and raising my voice count as a reaction? Probably, but I apologized right after and we carried on.)
Thus far he hates Math the most (not so shocking) and he likes Art the best. (not so shocking)
So far, I am pleased with the program. I am pleased that I can just go online and see what we're doing for the day and I don't have to plan. If you recall, planning is not one of my greatest strengths. I think it's good for Mac to be home. Truly. I am happy to see him interact with his little brother.
At this point, I'm happy that Ella has chosen to go to school as well. She loves school (although she loves it a little less since she's the only one who has to get up in the mornings at 7:00 a.m.) and I love watching her do her cute homework. I think I would be totally overwhelmed if they were both home this year. Mac and Ella are often the best of friends, but more often it seems, they antagonize each other and therefore harry their mother endlessly. This transition, I believe, has been infinitely smoother because Mac and Ella are not battling each other or vying for my attention all day. Rohan, in his easy-going manner, is happy to play Legos or sit on my lap while I do things with Mac. Bless that child. And bless Ella for choosing to go to school this year. And bless Mac for his strong will and his consistent, if begrudged efforts. And, if I may be so bold... bless me, too. For something.
So, there's the log for my first week in our new adventure. Pretzel dipping continues as does apartment management (or not... PLEASE let us get a new renter!!!). Also continues the mantaining of a household (to some degree anyway), and continues what would seem the easiest part of my life right now despite the limits it's putting on my wardrobe: baby-growing.
I mentioned that we are keeping Mac at home this year for school. The Idaho Virtual Academy "powered by K12" is our method of choice. In my ideal world, I would be choosing all his curriculum and planning it all myself. But, alas, I know my own limits and that is way more than I feel capable of at this point in my life. And that's o.k. K-12 it is!
We got all our "materials" a week ago today. (At the end of the day, so we didn't use them, we just got them out and looked at them.) We officially "started" on Monday. Monday didn't go so well. If you don't recall, look at my post that day and it will give you an idea of my Monday. That post wasn't entirely about my son or homeschooling, but those two things were the catalyst for a lot of dormant emotions and, to put it nicely, I lost it.
Tuesday wasn't easy, but I was in a better place.
Wednesday was quite good with a few, minor rough spots.
Thursday was good too... I think. I'm starting to blur a little on the details...
Today was long, but should have been short. We didn't have that much to do, but Mac likes to drag his feet and dilly-dally. It makes me crazy-insane, but somehow I've managed (aside from Monday) to keep my head and stay cool. (Go me!) This day had a lot of potential for being totally awful... maybe like Monday... but I chose to be chill and not react (...much. Does slamming my fist on the table and raising my voice count as a reaction? Probably, but I apologized right after and we carried on.)
Thus far he hates Math the most (not so shocking) and he likes Art the best. (not so shocking)
So far, I am pleased with the program. I am pleased that I can just go online and see what we're doing for the day and I don't have to plan. If you recall, planning is not one of my greatest strengths. I think it's good for Mac to be home. Truly. I am happy to see him interact with his little brother.
At this point, I'm happy that Ella has chosen to go to school as well. She loves school (although she loves it a little less since she's the only one who has to get up in the mornings at 7:00 a.m.) and I love watching her do her cute homework. I think I would be totally overwhelmed if they were both home this year. Mac and Ella are often the best of friends, but more often it seems, they antagonize each other and therefore harry their mother endlessly. This transition, I believe, has been infinitely smoother because Mac and Ella are not battling each other or vying for my attention all day. Rohan, in his easy-going manner, is happy to play Legos or sit on my lap while I do things with Mac. Bless that child. And bless Ella for choosing to go to school this year. And bless Mac for his strong will and his consistent, if begrudged efforts. And, if I may be so bold... bless me, too. For something.
So, there's the log for my first week in our new adventure. Pretzel dipping continues as does apartment management (or not... PLEASE let us get a new renter!!!). Also continues the mantaining of a household (to some degree anyway), and continues what would seem the easiest part of my life right now despite the limits it's putting on my wardrobe: baby-growing.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Then and Now
I used to want to write all the time.
Now I all I seem to want to do is sleep.
I used to spend a lot of time on the computer blogging.
Now I spend a lot of time on the computer looking at lesson plans for my son.
I used to feel like I had a fair amount of free time.
Now I feel like there's not enough time in the day to do it all.
I used to get sick of dipping pretzels before I even started.
Now I get sick of pretzels before I'm even started. Umm... wait a second...
I used to not mind dipping so much once I got started.
I guess two things haven't changed.
9:50 p.m. used to feel like the night was just beginning.
Now I can't wait to go to bed 50 minutes ago.
I'm just going to package some pretzels and then I'm going to get my Zzzz's. Night night.
Now I all I seem to want to do is sleep.
I used to spend a lot of time on the computer blogging.
Now I spend a lot of time on the computer looking at lesson plans for my son.
I used to feel like I had a fair amount of free time.
Now I feel like there's not enough time in the day to do it all.
I used to get sick of dipping pretzels before I even started.
Now I get sick of pretzels before I'm even started. Umm... wait a second...
I used to not mind dipping so much once I got started.
I guess two things haven't changed.
9:50 p.m. used to feel like the night was just beginning.
Now I can't wait to go to bed 50 minutes ago.
I'm just going to package some pretzels and then I'm going to get my Zzzz's. Night night.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Friday's Fabulous Five
It's been a while since I've done a FFF post. Life is so fabulous, I better do ten.
1- My dad is pink-skinned and breathing on a daily basis. I pray I never take that for granted again.
2- My mom is a total rock. I've known it all along, but she kept things so calm the night that my dad was in peril. I've since realized how freaked out she really was that night, but she kept it together so well for her children. She's amazing. She wrote a note to many friends and family explaining what happened to my dad. Here's the tail end of that note and I want to preserve it in my someday-blog-book:
We are both extremely grateful for the gift of his health & "new lease on life". There's nothing quite like an extreme wake up call to sharpen the senses & bring perspective to things.
To those of you who knew about this already; thank you for your love, support, kind words & prayers. To all; including those who are just finding out in this message, it's been a wild ride, one that I don't wish on anyone. My children have noticed that they want to be sure to speak the words of love that they may not utter often enough. I feel the same way. It's so easy in our workaday lives to lose the focus of the importance of speaking words of love, support & caring. To add a touch, a pat on the back, a caress or a hug and to look someone in the eye & commune soul to soul and convey all the feeling in our heart, soul & mind that is the love we feel. It needs to happen every day. Whether big or small, everyday. (If we focus on the love & sharing it it's easier to avoid the other stuff too) That's what's been going on in my mind a lot the last 1 1/2 days.
Love to you all AND go hug your loved ones & tell them how you feel. Right Now!!
Like I said... my mom is a rock.
3- We haven't gotten much school done at home because we still don't have Mac's books, computer, etc, but having my two little sons home with me has been more of a joy than I would've ever imagined. Mac has been nicer, more helpful, more cooperative and just generally more light and easy than he has in... well, years. This alone is making this endeavor worthwhile. I hope it continues until he's in, at least, his twenties. ;-)
4- My brother, who lives in Salt Lake, came up the day following my dad's heart attack. (He and his wife Nicky) Nicky stayed until Wednesday and then went back to Salt Lake. Zandy stayed to be my dad's muscles for a few days. You see... my dad's heart is fantastic. He looks and feels great, but he can't lift anything over five pounds for about a week while his femoral artery incision heals from his surgery. My dad does construction for a living. Bless my brother for lifting 200 lb doors and swinging sledge hammers for a few days so my dad can still earn a living and keep his commitments to the job he's on. I love my family.
5- I love a freshly vaccumed floor.
6- You know the miracle of the loaves and the fishes? I've had a miracle of the caramel.
7- Marci's Napolean Dynamite dance on her blog. Awesome. (sorry, ya'll... she's got herself a private blog so I have to enjoy that one alone... or with a few people whom I know who read her blog.)
8- I don't feel sick from being pregnant anymore. Not that I ever felt super sick, but even feeling a little sick sucks, don't you think? But now it's all gone.
9- For these few days, I get to watch my brother enjoy my children. Rohan especially. Rohan has a way of worming himself into people's hearts. Zandy is loving it and I am loving it too.
10- Dustin.
Happy Friday!
1- My dad is pink-skinned and breathing on a daily basis. I pray I never take that for granted again.
2- My mom is a total rock. I've known it all along, but she kept things so calm the night that my dad was in peril. I've since realized how freaked out she really was that night, but she kept it together so well for her children. She's amazing. She wrote a note to many friends and family explaining what happened to my dad. Here's the tail end of that note and I want to preserve it in my someday-blog-book:
We are both extremely grateful for the gift of his health & "new lease on life". There's nothing quite like an extreme wake up call to sharpen the senses & bring perspective to things.
To those of you who knew about this already; thank you for your love, support, kind words & prayers. To all; including those who are just finding out in this message, it's been a wild ride, one that I don't wish on anyone. My children have noticed that they want to be sure to speak the words of love that they may not utter often enough. I feel the same way. It's so easy in our workaday lives to lose the focus of the importance of speaking words of love, support & caring. To add a touch, a pat on the back, a caress or a hug and to look someone in the eye & commune soul to soul and convey all the feeling in our heart, soul & mind that is the love we feel. It needs to happen every day. Whether big or small, everyday. (If we focus on the love & sharing it it's easier to avoid the other stuff too) That's what's been going on in my mind a lot the last 1 1/2 days.
Love to you all AND go hug your loved ones & tell them how you feel. Right Now!!
Like I said... my mom is a rock.
3- We haven't gotten much school done at home because we still don't have Mac's books, computer, etc, but having my two little sons home with me has been more of a joy than I would've ever imagined. Mac has been nicer, more helpful, more cooperative and just generally more light and easy than he has in... well, years. This alone is making this endeavor worthwhile. I hope it continues until he's in, at least, his twenties. ;-)
4- My brother, who lives in Salt Lake, came up the day following my dad's heart attack. (He and his wife Nicky) Nicky stayed until Wednesday and then went back to Salt Lake. Zandy stayed to be my dad's muscles for a few days. You see... my dad's heart is fantastic. He looks and feels great, but he can't lift anything over five pounds for about a week while his femoral artery incision heals from his surgery. My dad does construction for a living. Bless my brother for lifting 200 lb doors and swinging sledge hammers for a few days so my dad can still earn a living and keep his commitments to the job he's on. I love my family.
5- I love a freshly vaccumed floor.
6- You know the miracle of the loaves and the fishes? I've had a miracle of the caramel.
7- Marci's Napolean Dynamite dance on her blog. Awesome. (sorry, ya'll... she's got herself a private blog so I have to enjoy that one alone... or with a few people whom I know who read her blog.)
8- I don't feel sick from being pregnant anymore. Not that I ever felt super sick, but even feeling a little sick sucks, don't you think? But now it's all gone.
9- For these few days, I get to watch my brother enjoy my children. Rohan especially. Rohan has a way of worming himself into people's hearts. Zandy is loving it and I am loving it too.
10- Dustin.
Happy Friday!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Shove Over, Brain
Sometimes my brain just gets in the way. Sometimes I think to much and it's usually about the most trivial things. Here's one. Showers. I play the silliest head games about showering. This is something I don't understand because I love showers once I'm in there. I feel just like my children because they never want to do things and then, once doing them, never want to stop.
We have a window in our shower. It's on the east side of my house and it's on the opposing wall from the shower head. Here's the problem. Correction: Here's where my brain creates a problem. Said window is one of those bathroomy windows. You know, it's all textured so you can't see through it? (that's not the problem since seeing INTO the window that is IN my shower would be a problem!) Before 8 a.m., my neighbor's house hides the rising sun. After 8:00, the sun shines through that textured window, creating a shower full of sparkling, brilliant light. 'So what', you say? Remember how I said the window is on the opposite wall of the shower head? Well, to stand in the shower and rinse your hair, it works best to have your back to the shower head causing your tired morning eyeballs to face the brilliant, sparkling, blinding, sunny-like-a-laser-beam-of-death window. I don't like that. I'm a I-hate-sun-in-my-eyes kind of girl. So, I dink around in my PJ's before 8:00 am and then I think, 'Oh, the sun is shining in the shower now! Blast! I guess I can't shower until after about 10 or 10:30!' (because that's about when the sun gets out of range) Then, by 10 or 10:30, I'm in the middle of something else and I don't want to stop and shower, so it turns into me not showering until afternoon. Silly, silly head games! Just bite the bullet and shower, Clancy!
Here's another game I like to play. Getting up in the morning. I lay in bed and I run circles in my brain about how I should get up, but my body answers my brain and says, "Do you know how comfy I am right now? I'm way too tired!" And then I lay there wasting away the precious minutes of non-blinding shower time. Sometimes I wish I could just turn off my brain so I could get things done!
As a side note, in the last few months I've become an early-to-bed girl. I know, I know... I was a dyed-in-the-wool, self-proclaimed night owl, but I really knew for my own health and sanity this must change. So, I've been going to bed for the last couple months between 9:00 and 10:30! Can you say "Wow!" (wow!) Here's the less-than-remarkable conclusion to my side note: Monday night I stayed up until almost 1:30am. For the old me, that time was average, but for the new me, that was very late indeed and the next morning KILLED me. I forgot that I used to be that tired all the time! So, today I will say that I am profoundly grateful for the many factors in my life that brought about this, the more rested version of Clancy!
One of those factors that brought about this early-to-bedness might be of some interest to you... this Friday I'll be thirteen weeks pregnant with the fourth and final installment of Clancy/Dustin procreation. This factor alone makes me very ready to be in bed as early as 6:00 pm some nights and that is a blessed reason, indeed, to get more sleep!
We have a window in our shower. It's on the east side of my house and it's on the opposing wall from the shower head. Here's the problem. Correction: Here's where my brain creates a problem. Said window is one of those bathroomy windows. You know, it's all textured so you can't see through it? (that's not the problem since seeing INTO the window that is IN my shower would be a problem!) Before 8 a.m., my neighbor's house hides the rising sun. After 8:00, the sun shines through that textured window, creating a shower full of sparkling, brilliant light. 'So what', you say? Remember how I said the window is on the opposite wall of the shower head? Well, to stand in the shower and rinse your hair, it works best to have your back to the shower head causing your tired morning eyeballs to face the brilliant, sparkling, blinding, sunny-like-a-laser-beam-of-death window. I don't like that. I'm a I-hate-sun-in-my-eyes kind of girl. So, I dink around in my PJ's before 8:00 am and then I think, 'Oh, the sun is shining in the shower now! Blast! I guess I can't shower until after about 10 or 10:30!' (because that's about when the sun gets out of range) Then, by 10 or 10:30, I'm in the middle of something else and I don't want to stop and shower, so it turns into me not showering until afternoon. Silly, silly head games! Just bite the bullet and shower, Clancy!
Here's another game I like to play. Getting up in the morning. I lay in bed and I run circles in my brain about how I should get up, but my body answers my brain and says, "Do you know how comfy I am right now? I'm way too tired!" And then I lay there wasting away the precious minutes of non-blinding shower time. Sometimes I wish I could just turn off my brain so I could get things done!
As a side note, in the last few months I've become an early-to-bed girl. I know, I know... I was a dyed-in-the-wool, self-proclaimed night owl, but I really knew for my own health and sanity this must change. So, I've been going to bed for the last couple months between 9:00 and 10:30! Can you say "Wow!" (wow!) Here's the less-than-remarkable conclusion to my side note: Monday night I stayed up until almost 1:30am. For the old me, that time was average, but for the new me, that was very late indeed and the next morning KILLED me. I forgot that I used to be that tired all the time! So, today I will say that I am profoundly grateful for the many factors in my life that brought about this, the more rested version of Clancy!
One of those factors that brought about this early-to-bedness might be of some interest to you... this Friday I'll be thirteen weeks pregnant with the fourth and final installment of Clancy/Dustin procreation. This factor alone makes me very ready to be in bed as early as 6:00 pm some nights and that is a blessed reason, indeed, to get more sleep!
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