I never thought I’d be a breastfeeding mother.  I don’t know why, really.  I was breastfed and saw my mother nurse both my sisters.  For some reason, however, I just always assumed I’d bottle feed any children I had, partly because that’s just what I thought I’d prefer and partly because it seemed the most normal to me.

I’m embarrassed to admit when I changed my mind – well, not embarrassed, really, but it does make me giggle.  You remember that Friends episode where Rachel has her baby?  While she’s still in the hospital breastfeeding is difficult, and when she finally gets Emma to latch Joey asks her what it feels like.  Her response – “it feels weird.  Good weird.”  And that sold me!  I had to find out what it actually felt like.

Breastfeeding Gabe was a tricky experience, but in retrospect I think it was as much because I was learning how to be a mother and how to live my life in 2-3 hour increments.  The adjustment from “solo human being” to “caregiver to another human being” is huge with paradigms shifting all over the place, and it was just an overwhelming time.  There was definitely some physical discomfort, and just as soon as I thought we had a good thing going I ended up with a plugged duct and things got uncomfortable again. But other than that it was a pretty straightforward, enjoyable nursing experience, and I was looking forward to having a chance to do it all over again.

I don’t know what it is about things with Isla – if I was more attentive to details with Gabe or if Isla’s jaundice slowed us down or if it’s something else altogether, but it’s not as easy this time around.  Not at all!  She latched well initially, but she was so little that it was hard to help her get a good latch and things got pretty painful.  Then she was sleeping and not gaining weight so we had to go through lots of antics to get her to eat (lots of attempting to nurse, pumping because she only got half a feed, syringe feeding her the “leftovers,” etc.).  She also had a pretty yucky case of thrush.  We had a good week or so in there, and now we’re back to issues – she has succeeded in creating a moderately sizable crack in a pretty important area of my anatomy.

Oy.

If it weren’t for the good experience I had with Gabe I don’t think I would have stuck with it through the jaundice stuff, and if I had, I don’t think I’d stick with it now.  But I keep trying, even gritting my teeth while I do deep breathing exercises, because the hours I invested in nursing Gabe are some of my favorite parenting memories from his early days.

Yesterday we went to the lactation clinic at our local hospital (not the same hospital where she was born) for a free weight check.  She weighed 7 pounds 11 ounces – up 11 ounces from her last weigh in!  I thought this was pretty good – she’d gained 11 ounces in 16 days, which works out to 4.8 ounces a week.  I’ve read that breastfeeding babies should gain 4+ ounces a week, so this sounded within range.  However, the lactation consultant wasn’t pleased because she hadn’t gained a full pound from her birth weight yet, and apparently she should have done that by a month.

Then she made me nurse her, weighing her before and after to see how much she got.  Mind you, I had just nursed her twice on one side, once on the other and had pumped that side, too, so we’d basically nursed twice thirty minutes prior.  Also, Isla was sleepy, not at all interested in nursing. She wanted to sleep and nothing else.  So it didn’t shock me when she got a whopping 8 mL during her “nursing” session (which lasted all of 10 minutes, whereas she usually nurses for at least 20, often more).  So the lactation consultant told me she thought I might have supply issues.

<sigh>

Then I came home and tried to pump and got basically nothing.  I can’t decide if I’m just freaked out or really do have supply issues.  So this will be our newest breastfeeding adventure, I guess – figuring out supply and weight gain.  If it turns out I do have a supply problem I’ll be really glad I went for the weight check.  However, my doctor wasn’t concerned about her weight gain at her 2 week check, so if it turns out things are actually fine and this was an overreaction I’ll be kicking myself for being so curious about her weight!

My gut tells me to keep pumping when I can and not worry.  She’s gaining.  She wets tons of diapers. She’s (reasonably) happy.  I hear her gulping.  But I’ll probably worry anyway until I have a more concrete answer of some sort.

If we can get it all to work out, though, I know it’ll be worth it.

It’s 4:58 and I have a very awake baby – very happy, kicky, stretchy baby whose content to lay on her back and look at everything. She slept from 8:30-12:30 last night and went right back to sleep after eating until 4:30 – which is great. Except for the “wide awake in the 4s” thing.

We’ll work on that.

I should be thinking 4:30… a new day… bring it!

Instead – and I swear to you this is true – I’m thinking 4:30?  I fart in your general direction!

I don’t even like Monty Python.

At least I make myself laugh.

So we’re entering the fussy stage, I guess, and Isla has decided the only acceptable thing is

a) to be held

and

b) by me.

We could also include c) preferably nursing, but so far that hasn’t been an absolute requirement – just a pretty strong preference.

I begged off tonight, telling Tahd I was getting overwhelmed and just needed 15 minutes where I could use both my arms at the same time, rather than using one arm to hold a baby and the second arm to do what I need to do.  I’ve washed clothes, folded laundry, put on makeup, made beds, straightened my hair, and more with one arm in the past few weeks.  I don’t want to complain about it but I will say two free arms makes completing tasks a fair bit easier!

On the other hand, there’s nothing like snuggling a sleepy baby, and that’s what I’ve been enjoying most since she’s been here.  It’s delicious and there’s nothing like it!

I haven’t blogged in a while because blogging is a two-handed task, and lately the most highly prioritized two-handed task has been driving, with showering a close second.  All other two-handed tasks?  Just aren’t getting done!

I have high hopes for two-handed tasks, however, because I think I can start using my baby carrier.  I’ve had a sore back since Isla was born, but over the last few days it seems to have relaxed, and I think the whole setup is doable now.

My life is so exciting!

In other news, here is my progress on my last set of goals for the week:

Personal

1. Walk and/or do yoga twice (once)

2. Work on thank yous and project for nurse and midwife

3. Finalize photo list

4. Finish Numbers and start Deuteronomy

5. Finish and post Isla’s birth story

Family/Mothering

6. Start Isla’s calendar and birth announcement

7. Create Gabe’s Jar of Fun

Home Management

8. Start catching up on Project Life

9. Start finance notebook with Tahd

 

 

Note… 9 goals is too many. I need to scale back, especially on any tasks that require more than one hand.

For this week (and probably more like the next 10ish days)

Personal

1. Do yoga or walk twice

2. Order thank you pictures

3. Schedule all the doctor appointments

Family/Mothering

4. Complete Isla’s birth announcement

5. Create Gabe’s Jar of Fun

6. Star Wars 3d

Home Management

7. Put away ALL the clean laundry

There… that took me a whole 15 minutes. Actually, more like 18 minutes. I have to go rescue Tahd, who got up at 5:00 this morning because his work is unthinkably busy right now and he needed to be there before the sun rose, I think.  Anyway, he’s tired and Isla’s crying, or at least she was crying.  It’s surprisingly quiet right now!  Maybe I’ll get to do a little yoga before I tuck in!

Yay for two-handed yoga!

Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

**********

As the afternoon progressed, the painful area on the left side of my abdomen increasingly began to ache.  It made it easy for me to tell when I was having contractions, and I even began feeling like I had to concentrate and breathe through some of them.  When I was 8 centimeters the midwife recommended I have a small dose of pitocin, and my sisters said my monitor went from slightly irregular contractions to obvious, regular contractions that came on quickly and peaked for longer.  Thankfully I only had to deal with the ache in my side, and I tried to relax and enjoy the moments as much as I could.

The nurse explained that when I was complete I would start to feel pressure all the time – not just during contractions.  So I waited.  And waited.  And waited, expecting to feel the constant pressure she described.  It never came, however, so I never requested to be checked until I finally couldn’t tolerate the pain on the left side of my belly.  We had briefly discussed the possibility of the anesthesiologist returning to “top me off” with my epidural, and the nurse said that before we did so she’d check me to see how close I was.  A surprised look crossed her face and she said the baby was “right there” – I was complete, the baby was fully descended, and I was ready to deliver imminently.

Like, now!

At that same moment the midwife returned for a status update, and it quickly became apparent that I’d be pushing soon and would be welcoming our daughter into our family at any moment.

I will never forget that moment – the moment I knew we were going to make it.

We had done it.

Six years.  Three losses.  A hundred injections. Tens of thousands of dollars.  Millions of tears.  I had carried her through nine months of pregnancy with no complications. We had gone through labor together, just me and her, and she was ready…

ready to be born,

ready to meet us,

ready to join our family.

I felt a little bit silly, but I couldn’t help myself and started crying – tears of sweet relief, tears of anxious anticipation, tears of awe that we did it – that I was actually having another baby.

Oh, I cried!

Between tears  I asked Tahd to switch my ipod to its “birth” playlist, a collection of songs I selected especially for the arrival of our little girl, another one of those details you have the luxury of planning when you wait six years for something to happen.  Amidst the transition I asked the midwife if I should be pushing yet and I fell in love with her when she told me we couldn’t dream of pushing until the music was right.  I hardly knew this woman and she didn’t know our story much (if at all), yet she knew by instinct exactly what we’d need to make this birth picture perfect in our eyes.

When everything was perfect –  Martina McBride’s “Anyway” setting the scene – the pushing began.

You can spend your whole life buildin’
Somethin’ from nothin’
One storm can come and blow it all away
Build it anyway

You can chase a dream
That seems so out of reach
And you know it might not ever come your way
Dream it anyway

Can I just say it’s hard to push and cry at the same time?

Truthfully, the crying won out at first.  The foundations of my whole world were shifting with each new contraction, and it was almost as though my tears needed to push away every bit of fear before my body was ready to push the baby out.

I knew I’d get there.  I just needed to have a moment.

Eventually I asked for a mirror and when they brought it in I realized she really was right there.

I asked if I could reach down and touch her and marveled at the strange firm-but-squishy texture of her head.  It was not at all what I expected! I pushed with everything I could muster, every single bit of energy I could find, but it was hard to focus when I felt numb from the waist down.

Maybe twenty minutes in the midwife finally suggested a small episiotomy and by that point I really didn’t care what they had to do to let me meet my baby.  Actually, first she teasingly threatened me that if I didn’t push her out right away she’d have to make the snip.  I don’t think she banked on fact that I really didn’t care if she did one or not – cut or don’t cut, in my estimation, as long as I get the baby!  One tiny incision was all it took, and progress immediately began.

One request in my birth plan was that if possible Tahd or I help “catch” the baby.  In that moment my birth plan couldn’t have been further from my mind, but once again my midwife became my hero when she asked – after she had guided out the baby’s head – if I wanted to reach down and pull my baby up onto my chest.

Even now, even just remembering that moment, it takes my breath away.

I cannot describe the pure enchantment of lifting my own baby from my body and onto my chest.  Her wet little body wriggled in my hands and I worried that she’d slip out of my grip and onto my belly.  But she didn’t.

Instead – while tunes of “The First Time I Ever Saw Your Face” crooned on my ipod – she slipped effortlessly from her warm, safe internal home of nine months to an external cocoon of love on my chest where I kissed her and snuggled her and wept over her and whispered sweet nothings in her ears about how much I loved her and how long we’d waited for her and how absolutely perfect she was in my eyes.

She was here.

She was ours.

She was mine.

She cried, but not much, and the tears she didn’t cry I’m sure I made up for with my plentiful happy, joy-filled tears.  My baby was here. On my chest.  In my arms.

I loved every second of those magical moments.

I’d live them again in a heartbeat.

They were worth every single breath we breathed while we waited for her these last six years.

She laid with me for the better part of an hour, chest to chest and covered in a jumble of blankets and hospital gowns and towels and peace.  We snuggled and nursed and snuggled and nursed, and I honestly have very little recollection of what happened in the meantime.  I have vague recollections of the whole placenta fiasco (in which it apparently didn’t want to be delivered so the midwife had to manually help it along and I got extra pitocin as well as some iv antibiotics because of the “trauma”).  I also remember that several times I asked Tahd if he wanted to hold her, and he said the sweetest words to me…

I want you to have as much time as you need.

He knew.  He had walked beside me on this onerous, exhausting journey and even though it hadn’t impacted him emotionally in the same way it had me he knew the considerable healing unfolding in my heart as each second ticked by with her in my arms.

But when I did finally give her up?

It was beautiful!

I didn’t even mind (too much) that she was all the way across the room!

The other moment that took my breath away?

Brother meets sister.

I had wondered for 9 months how Gabe would react to a sibling, and mostly I expected him to be pretty nonplussed, more concerned about Legos and Star Wars.

I was wrong.

He was excited – so, so excited to meet his sister. We weren’t sure if he’d want to see her before she got cleaned up so Tahd went out and gave him the choice, and he didn’t want to wait.  I had no idea what to expect, but oh!  Precious!

He was so proud to hold her, so proud to “brother” her.

I didn’t know how I’d feel about a 7 year age gap. But the moment I saw it?  It’s a beautiful thing!

Not having a brother myself I can only speak from observation of others, but I’m told no brother-sister dyad is complete without a little torment.

Gabe delivered, even before Isla was an hour old!

We finished up our stint in the delivery room by sharing Isla with others who are nearly as in love with her as we are…

My parents

Uncle Corey

Uncle Corey and Auntie Amy

Auntie Kayla

My other brother-in-law was also there but I don’t seem to have any pictures of him!

Dear friend, Faith, who didn’t feel well but I really wanted there

It was the most perfect day, the most perfect ending to a difficult chapter, the culmination of growth and beauty and lessons learned.

I can’t wait to see how the next chapter unfolds!

Welcome, Isla!  Oh, how we love you!

The instant of birth is exquisite.
Pain and joy are one at this moment.
Ever after, the dim recollection is
so sweet that we speak to our children
with a gratitude they never understand.

Madeline Tiger

Dear Isla,

I can’t believe it has been two weeks since you joined our family! I thought it would prove to be a giant transition to go from one child to two, but you’ve fit in seamlessly and I love being a family of four with you!

I hesitate to say it because I could jinx things, but you are such a good sleeper!  You almost never wake up when Gabe is running around screaming and playing, and if you do you go right back to sleep when someone helps you settle.  You’ve also been sleeping 4-hour stretches at night.  It’s a little soon to say this is a pattern, but it seems like you eat around 11:00 and then sleep until 3:00, eat again and then sleep until I get up to get ready to take Gabe to school.  Last night, however, you slept from about midnight until just after 5:00!

You are still wearing newborn clothes and diapers. We have a few 0-3 month clothes you wear, but mostly they’re quite large on you.

At the doctor’s office you were 7 pounds even and 21 inches.  The doctor said your weight gain was okay – not great but reasonable. I think they mismeasured your height, though. It looked to me like they measured you diagonally!

You seem to love to have your hands and feet rubbed.  If I rub your hand while you’re nursing you’ll open your hand up wide as long as I keep rubbing it.  When I rub your feet and toes when you cry sometimes you settle down.

You’re nursing pretty well – much better than you were during your first week!  I can’t tell you how thankful I am for that!

I think you have dimples – one on your right, I’m pretty sure and maybe one on your left, too!

You seem to have a fairly strong preference to be on your back, not your stomach.  Gabe much preferred his stomach and I assumed all babies did, so it surprised me to notice that you seem very content on your back.  Granted, we don’t lay you down much – you’re almost always being held by someone!  And when you are laying down you’re right next to one of us.  I like it best that way and I think you do, too.

In the last few days you’ve also started pushing off with your feet and holding your head up just a bit.  You’re obviously developing and getting stronger even if you’re not gaining tons of weight!

Gabe absolutely adores having a sister. He loves to snuggle with you each night before bed, and he likes to “munch” on your fingers.  He looks to see where you are first thing every morning and right away after school.

Daddy has gone back to work at his office this week.  I was worried about how we would manage, but so far we’re doing pretty well!  You’ve been a very easy baby so far and I could spend all my days just snuggling you.

We love you, sweet Isley girl!  Welcome to our family!

Love,

Mommy

Read Part 1 here

**********

Somewhere along the way I called the doctor to report that my water had broken.  They asked about my contractions and told me I should probably go in anyway even though my contractions weren’t super regular.  Once that decision had been finalized I plodded through my various tasks between contractions. I looked for pants that wouldn’t be ruined if I leaked on them for the entire 45 minute drive to the hospital.  After locating a seemingly appropriate pair (black yoga pants) I looked for a shirt that seemed comfy enough to avoid irritating me mercilessly while we drove.  Not thinking, I grabbed a tank and grey sweater from the clean laundry basket but quickly reconsidered when I remembered wearing the same sweater to the emergency room when we lost Mara.  It seemed too risky to me to repeat any part of that wardrobe under different circumstances – like it would be an invitation for fate to revisit us.  So I quickly discarded the sweater for something different.

One thing I couldn’t leave behind was a sweet little etsy necklace my parents had given me for Christmas.  I couldn’t help but love it when I saw it on Pinterest, and when it surprised me under the tree on Christmas morning I loved it even more.  It’s a pearl-and-silver necklace with a small bird charm and a bird’s nest containing three pearl eggs.

When you wait for six years for your dreams to come true you have time to plan the many details.  One, like the necklace, just fell into place and I knew I wanted to give birth wearing that special reminder of the three precious birds in my nest.  Other details took more time and consideration.  One of those things was hypnobirthing.

While pregnant with Gabe I became familiar with a childbirth preparation course called “Hypnobabies.”  The basic premise is that you can have an easier, faster, more comfortable birthing experience if you learn self-hypnosis and how to apply that skill to the demands of birth.  I ordered the program around 24 weeks and proceeded to practice it periodically from that point onward, and eagerly fired up my ipod playlist when we got into the car.

As a side note, I will say that if you decide to use Hypnobabies it would be helpful if you give your birth partner a primer on what you’ll be doing.  I did not, and Tahd found it quite bizarre that I’d go into these quiet trances and refuse to respond to his questions.  See?  Trance.  I was completely unaware that anyone was taking my picture.

Me in hypnosis later at the hospital

I immediately noticed that the hypnosis scripts helped.  In fact, in retrospect I think they helped too much.  Each time I went into hypnosis my contractions got easier and further apart.  I didn’t complete the entire program so I don’t know if there’s something I missed – or perhaps I wasn’t doing everything correctly?  But they certainly made my early labor experience easier and more comfortable, so I’d call that a win.  I sat, entranced, in the car seat, focusing on the calming voice of the hypnosis instructor and trying to imagine my calm, peaceful birthing experience as well as the anesthesia that was supposedly flooding my abdomen.  It sounds hokey to see it in print, but it really was quite soothing.  I’m a fan.  Granted, I’m also anxiety prone so I also spent a fair amount of time trying to feel the baby move to make sure she was still okay.  Not sure that’s what the hypnosis people had in mind, but I alternated between the two extremes fairly smoothly.

Upon arrival at the hospital I was triaged in the hall.  Triage went something like this…

Nurse: So you’re in labor?

Me: I think so. It’s not super regular but I’m definitely having some contractions.

Nurse: Did your water break?

Me: Um, I’m not sure. I think so.

Nurse: What do you mean, you think so?

Me: Well, I’m wearing a diaper and it’s not enough to prevent the leaking.

 

That answer earned me a trip past the triage holding rooms and directly to the labor and delivery room – Room 2005 – as the nurse assumed that anyone with broken water wouldn’t be leaving without a baby.  She got us settled into our room and began the arduous paperwork process.

I could tell right away that I loved her because she led with a discussion of my birth plan.  When I’d had Gabe my nurse was, at the very most, content to pay lip service to my birth wishes.  She read them and then proceeded to ignore them for the next 8 hours.  This nurse, Greta, went over everything with me and was so reassuring.  Like with Gabe my blood pressure was again high – not as high as 200/100, but high enough (145/90) to make her pay attention, but even at that she helped accommodate my wishes and I felt completely cared for in her hands.

Bless attentive, caring nurses! They make all the difference!

My last “official” belly shot

We did the first round of monitoring and she assured me the baby was handling the contractions fine and I needn’t worry, and once her records were complete she left us to labor for a while.

Gabe stopped in for a visit

When she eventually came back around 11:30, it was with news that surprised both me and her.  My doctor, apparently bothered by my inefficient contractions, had ordered an immediate iv and pitocin drip in spite of the fact that I had expressly asked to do whatever I could to avoid The Devil Drug.  I expressed my dismay to the nurse, and she said it had surprised her, too, since my water had only been broken for 4 hours and I was, in fact, contracting on my own.  She said it had surprised her so much, in fact,that she actually asked the doctor four times to confirm that she wanted the pitocin started, and each time the doctor said yes.

Not wanting to consent immediately I asked Greta if it was reasonable of me to ask to speak with the doctor before I accepted the medication, and she said she felt it a conversation was definitely in order, and that perhaps I could ask to wait an hour or two before the pitocin had to be administered.  She said that midwives typically allow their patients to wait up to 12 hours before encouraging pitocin and understood that in light of our preferences we might want more time than 4 hours.  She also assured us that the baby was fine and there was no indication on the monitor strip that she was under distress.  I felt really good about asking to talk with the doctor and felt confident that we could reach an agreement.

How wrong I was!

The doctor eventually called us, and it quickly became evident that she had no interest in helping me experience the birth I wanted.  She explained her rationale (my waters had already been ruptured for 4 hours with little progress) and I requested additional time.  She replied with a line I came to hate, “Well, if you just want to do things your own way I have no reason to keep you and you might as well go home.”  Over and over again she’d say the same thing, no matter what question I asked.  It seemed so manipulative to me, like she was trying to back me into a corner but make me think I actually had a choice in the matter.  Finally, I got very direct.

“I don’t understand my options,” I said.  “Are you telling me that I have two options – to accept pitocin now or be discharged to go home?”

“Well,” she started, “If you just want to do things your own way there’s no reason for me to keep you in the hospital.”

Again.

“No,” I answered, “I don’t understand.  Are those my two and only two options? Do I have any other options?”

“Yes,” she finally directed, “those are your only two options.”

My mind whirled with anger and fear.  I was fine.  The baby was fine. What was the hurry?  I wasn’t asking for an indefinitely period of time, or even all day!  Just two hours.  I was contracting.  I was 4.5 centimeters dilated.  My water was broken. How could she possibly send me home?  And yet she could, and I didn’t know what to do.

To buy myself some time I told her I’d discuss the options with my husband and would inform my nurse of our choice.  We hung up, me fuming and in tears and Tahd completely incredulous.  What was our doctor thinking?  Did she have a hot date later that night and didn’t want to miss it?  Or did she really believe I needed the pitocin for the health and safety of the baby and me?

I guess I’ll never know, because when the nurse came back I cried and told her that I never wanted to be spoken to that way again and that I did not want that doctor to have any part in the delivery of my baby.  I asked her if there was any possibility that I could switch from the care of my doctor to the care of the midwives who were part of the same practice.  I held my breath, knowing I could be creating an awkward situation and it might be a long shot to switch at the last minute – while I was in labor.  But thankfully, she said she’d investigate that option and left to see what she could find out.

I don’t know what I would have done had she said it wasn’t an option.  I was fully prepared to check out, just on principle.  However, I knew I’d never make it home, let alone home and back again, before I’d be laboring more regularly.  I considered setting up shop in the hospital lobby if necessary, figuring at least I’d be close.  I also considered accepting the discharge and when I eventually asked to be readmitted to request midwife care at that point.  And of course, I considered just taking the pitocin right away.  More than anything, I was afraid to leave the hospital.  By this point I knew I was in labor, knew my water had broken, and knew the baby needed to come out sooner rather than later.  In no way did I want to be without monitoring and medical care at the ready.

Walking the room – can you tell I was really discouraged?

It seemed to take a full eternity; looking back, I think my nurse might have moved slowly in order to buy me as much time as she could.  While I walked the room attempting to get my contractions to regulate and strengthen she made phone calls.  Eventually, I noticed an annotation running across my digital chart on the computer screen monitor – “Dr. W okay with patient switching to midwife-managed care.”  Then a few moments later – “CJ (midwife) agrees to assume care of patient.”  I immediately relaxed, and within 25 minutes was in full-blown labor, 6.5 centimeters dilated and begging for some sort of pain management.

Going into Gabe’s labor I was certain I didn’t want an epidural and hoped to avoid any narcotics, also.  (In the end I did skip the epidural but had some Nubain in my iv.)  With Isla, however, I felt much more open.  I intended to use Hypnobabies as much as possible but was open to the idea of narcotics or an epidural if I wanted either in the moment.  When my labor suddenly and strongly kicked into gear?  I wanted!  I was so desperate for relief that I sent Tahd from the room to find the nurse – the call button wasn’t fast enough. I wanted him to find her and bring her back with him, instantaneously, if possible!  It didn’t take her long and she came with supplies to start the iv as well as fluids and some Nubain to hold me over.

Again, bless her!  I loved that nurse!

The Nubain took enough of the edge off that I briefly considered skipping the epidural, but knowing it would only get worse I decided to go ahead and have the epidural anyway.  Several hours later when my midwife was actually reaching inside me to manually remove the placenta, she said I should be very happy I had gone ahead with it.  Apparently manual removal of the placenta is extremely painful, a fact to which I can’t attest since I was happily drugged and oblivious to anything but my babe at that point.

I didn’t know it at the moment, but apparently Tahd was extremely nervous while the anesthesiologist administered the epidural.  Lacking a soft touch, he listed off the potential side effects and complications rapid-fire, and these really troubled Tahd.  I, however, was almost unaware of him speaking, just gritting my teeth and waiting for him to GIVE ME THE DRUGS!  The whole thing was relatively quick and painless, and I welcomed the relief that washed over me.

Some people talk about their epidurals not taking properly, and I had been worried about this.  As it was, I think my epidural worked really well except for one spot that ran down the left side of my belly.  In certain positions it hurt worse than others, and taking full, deep breaths didn’t feel great.  No one knew why it didn’t take there, but I wonder if it had to do with the fibroids I have, or maybe the position of the baby.  Whatever it was, it was annoying – but not bothersome enough to make me regret the medication.

With the epidural in place labor took on a much lighter tone.   My mom and sisters had joined us and I called a dear friend and invited her to visit if she wanted.  Gabe stopped in a few times to see what was happening – he’d spent most of the time sitting in the hospital waiting room with my dad and brother-in-law, and I think he was as nervous as he was excited.  Someone delivered some food for Tahd and we settled in for the duration.

I didn’t get quite as much done last week as I was hoping, but I did get a few things done. Here’s to this week!

Personal

1. Finish pictures and write Isla’s birth story

2. Walk and/or do yoga twice

3. Work on thank yous and project for my midwife and nurse

4. Finalize photo list

5. Finish Numbers and start Deuteronomy

Family/Mothering

6. Help Gabe plan the rest of his Marvelous Me week

7. Pay Gabe his allowance (uh… we’re a little behind)

8. Start Isla’s daily calendar & birth announcement

Home Management

9. Start catching up on Project Life

10. Create a meal plan

 

Up this week…

Personal

1. Walk and/or do yoga twice

2. Work on thank yous and project for nurse and midwife

3. Finalize photo list

4. Finish Numbers and start Deuteronomy

5. Finish and post Isla’s birth story

Family/Mothering

6. Start Isla’s calendar and birth announcement

7. Create Gabe’s Jar of Fun

Home Management

8. Start catching up on Project Life

9. Start finance notebook with Tahd

I tried to write this all in one post, but it’s just too much all at once. So I’m breaking it up into pieces, partly to make it easier to read and partly to make it less overwhelming to write.  :)  Part 1 has no photos, but the rest will.

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I’ve tried for two weeks now to write the details of Isla’s birth, but every time I think about starting I can’t decide where to begin or how to quantify in words one of the most perfect events of my life.  How does one explain magic without trivializing its enchantment?  I’m not sure I know how to write about Isla’s arrival and do the emotions and story justice. So I haven’t – I just haven’t written it down yet, except on the pages of my heart.  But like all wonderful stories, I know the details will fade if I don’t collect them into a cohesive account of our day, so I’m going to put aside my fears of telling her story less-than-perfectly and just tell it.

It started Friday night when I realized I didn’t feel quite right.  Actually, strike that – it started Monday morning when I flipped out about the laundry and redid those 8 clean loads.  Several friends told me behavior like that could only mean one thing – nesting – and I’d be having my baby soon.  You reach the point in pregnancy, however, where you stop believing you’re actually going to have a baby and believe the universe has just decided to torture you indefinitely with this enigmatic things called pregnancy, otherwise known as immobility, weight gain and crankiness.  So I didn’t believe them, figuring I had a solid two or three weeks left before we could expect any action.

As I said, Friday I started feeling different; it was nothing major or overly intolerant.  I just noticed I was having some annoying discomfort; I couldn’t even really call them cramps – I just felt blah.  I tucked into bed at midnight after my work shift and figured I’d be up again on Saturday morning ready for my Saturday shift.

Sometime in the night – around 3:00, I think – I woke up to use the bathroom and felt  – or maybe heard (I couldn’t decide which) – a distinct pop.  It was odd enough to notice but wasn’t accompanied by any cramps, pain or gushes of water so I chalked it up to a weird sensation of pregnancy and went back to sleep.

By 4:30, however, I was awake with more discomfort than I had gone to sleep with and was horridly curious as to if this was the beginning of spontaneous labor. I fired up my contraction timer app – first two contractions were 20ish minutes apart.  The next was 10, and the fourth came 7 minutes later.  At that rate, I figured I might as well get up and take a shower because if everything continued progressing that quickly I’d have to head to the hospital sooner rather than later.  I hadn’t washed my hair in a few days and decided that since sleep was eluding me anyway I might as well take a shower and see what happened.  Still not convinced I was in labor I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get ready just in case.

Contractions never seemed to get more regular; they did last about a minute but they vacillated between 7 and 15 minutes apart, none horridly painful.  I got out of the shower and over the corner of my burgeoning belly caught a peek of my unpainted toenails and decided they deserved a quick paint job just in case they were to spend the day front and center in stirrups.  Then I headed into the bedroom to find something to wear.

Standing at the foot of the bed sorting through laundry I noticed the unmistakable but confusing sensation that something was leaking, so back to the bathroom I went, where I became convinced I was, at the very least, losing my mucous plug and searched to locate the nearest pad I could find.  Gabe woke up at about the same time and I headed back to the bedroom to tell Tahd something was happening and we should start thinking about the day.  He jumped into action and I decided to use the few minutes before my work shift started to throw a few things in a bag.  Although I had packed several weeks prior, I hadn’t completely packed and needed to finish up the odds and ends.

8:00 rolled around quickly so I settled myself into a wooden chair (just in case my water had or was going to break) in front of the computer and started working.  The first few minutes weren’t too bad, but within 15 minutes I experienced the sudden and obvious gushing sensation that told me my water had certainly broken and we’d be having a baby!  I Skyped my boss to give her the news and went back upstairs to finish packing only to find that the more upright I was the more likely my contractions were to hurt.  I also noticed a mere super mondo pad was not enough to contain leaking water, so I had Tahd locate me a diaper and hoped that would contain the situation.

Tahd and I had varied ideas about how to make the morning progress most easily.  He had several things he thought he should do.  I wanted him to drop and give me twenty at my every command.  I kept asking him to do certain things and he’d sandwich them between other things he was trying to accomplish, and I just kept getting more and more angry at any delays.  I’d also periodically stop and pant, refusing to communicate in any form, which created a slight void of information he needed but I didn’t feel like giving.  Add into the mix Gabe and we were a regular circus, everyone running somewhere but no one accomplishing anything!  Eventually we realized we needed to get Gabe to go to my parents and I needed a few particular things of Tahd, and once we got our system down we made much more progress.

Am I the only one who reads that title to the tune of  ”Since You’ve Been Gone” by Kelly Clarkson? Yeah. So this is Isla’s first week in pictures.  I realized I want to get more pictures of Gabe and Isla together. It’s harder since he’s basically gone to school for all the daylight hours!

Gabe picked her first-day-at-home-outfit.  It’s an adorable little three-piece duck outfit, so soft and cozy!  I knit both the above and below hat.

This hat seems to be everyone’s favorite – mine included!

We had a doctor’s appointment on our first day at home.  Isla’s bilirubin levels were borderline and they wanted her to get checked sooner rather than later. It was 8 when we left the hospital and she had dropped from 7 pounds 2 ounces to 6 pounds 12 ounces.  At our first doctor’s appointment her levels had risen to 10.8 and her weight had dropped from 6.12 to 6.8.  This earned us a return trip to the doctor for Wednesday…

Look at her poor little foot! I hate they way they have to draw blood from babies – pricking their heels and squeezing the blood out until they fill the tube!  She seems to be a pretty good sport about it, though, even though she earned battle scars on both feet.

What she didn’t like much? Getting stripped naked. Actually, she didn’t really like anything that day; she screamed through her entire appointment!  They didn’t check her blood levels, but she had dropped another ounce to 6.7.

I really love this baby! She gives the best snuggles!

Since the sun had come out on Wednesday we spent some time in the sunshine in front of a window.  She didn’t seem to mind that it was a little bit bright.

Then it was back to the doctor again on Thursday. Both Tahd and I thought she looked much yellower that day, but her bilirubin levels had fallen and she had gained a whopping ounce and a half! We graduated from daily doctor visits and don’t have to go back until the end of the month!

Love this face! She wasn’t actually sad, but her mournful expression makes me want to squeeze her!

I really wasn’t strangling her here.  She goes from seemingly wide awake – in fact, sometimes fully screaming – to completely out, limp and flopped over like this, in seconds.  Gabe was never like this! We had to work for every second of sleep he got!

We also went on Isla’s first field trip to the library on Thursday – not so much because we wanted a field trip but because… <ahem> somebody had fines to pay. <cough>heidi<cough>

It was a cold, cold evening, but sometimes those make for the prettiest skies.  Especially by the lake.

Gabe also had soccer on Thursday evening. His team didn’t win but he got to play goalie and thought it was fun!

Due to a case of  ”mommy-is-desperately-in-pain” Tahd gave Isla her first bottle on Friday. She did remarkably well – both in taking the bottle and switching back to nursing at her next feeding!

We also had family photos on Friday, but I have to decide which ones I want so the photographer can work them up.  I have to pick 50 out of 477!  Phew!

And these two… I love the way he asks to snuggle with her. I love that he wants her nearby when he’s watching tv or playing wii.  I love the way he peeks into her car seat when we pick him up from school. I love that he has a little sister and she has a big brother.

A blogger I read tracks her goals for the week, and I think it’s something I’d like to try. So much to do, so little time, and so hard to stay focused!  We’ll see if this is a one-time event or if it turns into an ongoing series.  ;)

Personal

1. Finish pictures and write Isla’s birth story

2. Walk and/or do yoga twice

3. Work on thank yous and project for my midwife and nurse

4. Finalize photo list

5. Finish Numbers and start Deuteronomy

Family/Mothering

6. Help Gabe plan the rest of his Marvelous Me week

7. Pay Gabe his allowance (uh… we’re a little behind)

8. Start Isla’s daily calendar & birth announcement

Home Management

9. Start catching up on Project Life

10. Create a meal plan

(something like this might be her announcement… can’t settle on a picture!)