Welcoming Luke (Part 2)

The amount of time that has lapsed since publishing Part 1 of Luke's birth story clearly indicates I won't be returning to blogging any time soon. I had it all written weeks ago but had trouble cropping the pictures. And they NEEDED to be cropped. So enjoy part 2 with its many decent and non scandalous pictures.

As the evening progressed things started getting a little slow. The midwife suggested getting on all fours to help the baby get into a better position and hopefully speed things up a bit. I tried it but hated it. I immediately had flashbacks of Paul’s labor and started to get upset. I avoided any position that I was in during Paul’s labor, even if someone thought it would be helpful. Despite my appearance as a calm and collected birthing woman, I was in turmoil on the inside. The fear of Paul’s birth replaying itself would not subside. I didn’t voice it in the hopes that it would just go ok (which is never a good idea!) so no one really knew how much I was struggling.

In the weeks leading up to labor, I couldn't get Paul's birth out of my mind. I re-read his birth story and then read Hannah's after that to try to remember the more positive birth experience over the negative one. I talked a lot about Paul's birth but Ted didn't pick up on my anxiety. I knew going into labor that I was on thin ice mentally and kept trying to get the memories from Paul's birth out of my head.

I got checked at 9:00pm and was 8 cm. Then again at 10:30 and was a 9. The midwife wanted to break my water but I declined. After she announced I was 9cm I went to the bathroom alone for a few minutes and wrestled with the emotions I had been trying to hide from. I still hadn’t said anything to Ted or AC, but the farther along I got into labor the more terrified I was becoming of things ending up the way they did for Paul’s birth. I tried to push the fears and feelings down deeper and deeper in the hopes that they would just go away. I wanted to be healed from Paul’s birth, but I knew I wasn’t. I tried to pretend I was and it wasn’t working. Rather than being excited about being 9 cm, I was overwhelmed and anxious. All I could think about what the hours and hours of pain that I still had to endure after I made it to 9cm with Paul.

I came out and tried to find the words to explain all of this. At first I said, “I’m bored,” and AC gave a few suggestions for lifting my spirits. But I wasn't bored. Finally I was able to admit that I wanted an epidural because I was scared. I told them I was mentally not allowing the labor to progress and that physically I was holding back from what I knew my body needed to do. I knew I need to walk more, squat deeper, but when the contractions came I froze and hoped like hell I wouldn’t progress, just trying to keep this baby inside. Ted tried talking me down and reminded me that I was in transition but I knew it was bigger than that. He told not to write this labor off just yet, to give this baby a chance to have his own birth, and to take one contraction at a time. But all I could think of was getting back up on that bed to push and having a panic attack. I felt like my sanity was holding on by a thread that was about to snap at any moment. If it snapped, I at least wanted the epidural to catch me when I crashed.

It took a while to convince the nurse I meant it. She tried a few tricks to deter me because she knew my goal was to have a natural birth. I thought she was sweet but I saw right through it. I had checked out and wouldn’t rest until I got some relief. The anesthesiologist came in and we immediately recognized him from Paul’s birth. I told him that he pissed me off last time and told him the story. He said, “Yeah, that sounds like me,” and looked up in my chart whether he was the one who gave me the epidural for Paul. Sure enough, same guy. This time was a little different and I didn’t yell at him.

The medicine started around 10:45 pm and I sadly realized this baby might not come on the 11^th and would miss the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes. I still held out a shred of hope as the pain of contractions lessened as the drugs took over. I got checked again and was 9 with a "tiny bit of lip." That damn phrase! I immediately started to worry I would get stuck again. The midwife brought in the peanut ball to try to finish the dilation and flashbacks of Paul’s birth got worse. I just wanted to be pushing and yet, here I was, laying in a bed with my leg up on a giant peanut shaped ball with a body that just won’t finish dilating in order to push my baby out. Again. Since I had to be on my side, the epidural stopped working on whichever side was on top. My back started to hurt intensely and I asked for a heating pad. I continued to labor like this, in the bed with all the pain on one side, for more than two hours. I hated laying down but I knew I did this to myself when I chose to get the epidural. I wanted to take it back and try again. I wanted to get out of bed and find the courage somehow to meet the end of this birth head on. But I was still so scared and deeply scarred.

Finally, at 12:50am on the 12^th, my midwife checked me and said I could start pushing. I was disappointed that I would be pushing with the epidural but incredibly happy this was all coming to an end. I asked for the mirror (I know I’m in the minority, but I LOVE being able to see my baby being born!) and started to push with all my might. 

Once again, I felt confident in pushing and was able to push at least three times with each contraction. I pushed for 19 minutes and at 1:14am a little head emerged. The excitement of the head coming out stopped me from pushing and before I could finish my thought of, “I’m about to meet my baby!” the midwife had brought him the rest of the way out and was already clearing his airways. I couldn’t see him but Ted could and for the first time got to announce the sex, which is what we had tried for each time. 

“It’s Lukey!” 

Rather than get exited, I was still just in shock that he was already here. I felt like I needed a second to prepare for his arrival and wasn’t fully realizing that he was already here. I was expecting a moment of recollection before that final push but he snuck up on me. They put him on my chest and wrapped us up in warm blankets and he cried just enough to let us know he was ok but then quickly quieted down. He had dark hair just like the other two and I remember thinking how small he was compared to Paul. (Later when he was weighed and announced to be 8 lbs, 8 ounces I laughed at what I now consider a “small” baby.) 

AC gave Ted a celebratory Dr. Pepper she had been saving for the occasion and I called my parents, who were just a few hours away from town. I tried not to tell them the gender so I could surprise them in person but it slipped out just as I was hanging up the phone. I saved the name for their arrival.

Luke Robert. Luke: my favorite Gospel writer, friend of Mary, and closest companion of Paul. Robert after my dad and St. Robert Southwell.

The days following were some of my fondest memories of motherhood. I stayed in the hospital as long as possible to give myself some time to bond with Luke before heading home to the other kids. And seeing Paul and Hannah meet their baby brother was something I’ll never forget.

It wasn’t the birth I was expecting, but none of them ever are. And that’s how we became a family of five.

Welcoming Luke (Part 1)

Although I naively hoped I would meet baby #3 before the due date, I hit the 40 week mark on Thursday, February 5^th. 

Ted and I had our third “due date night” at a local steakhouse and tried once again not to get too anxious. Friday was uneventful and Saturday was Hannah’ s birthday. We had been keeping the actual day of her birthday a secret (we’re terrible! I know!) because I was worried that she’d be upset if we were away at the hospital on her birthday. Late Friday night Ted proposed that we tell her since it I hadn’t shown any signs that labor was imminent.  At 8:00pm we crept back into her room and told her the exciting news. She was so thrilled and, thankfully, not at all curious as to why she had no idea that the next day was her birthday until that moment. She asked if we could go to the park and make cupcakes. I went to bed Friday night actually excited that I wasn’t in labor and instead looked forward to celebrating my firstborn’s fourth birthday the next day. Seven hours later, around 3:00am, I woke up with contractions.

It was an odd mix of excitement and guilt. I couldn’t believe our bad luck. They were too painful to sleep through so I got up and labored alone in the bathroom for a while.  I contemplated texting my doula but resisted. After three hours of strong contractions that were ten minutes apart, it completely stopped. I was bummed and confused but glad we would all get to celebrate Hannah’s birthday together as planned. 

We had a fun day as a family and I went to bed hoping that the next day would be it.

Sunday morning I awoke at 1:00 am with strong contractions coming every seven to ten minutes. I also had the “bloody show” that was the starting point of labor with both of my other births. This was promising and I was excited. I labored alone all night but, by the time Ted woke up, labor had completely stopped again. I was sure that it would return since it had been so strong and decided that we couldn’t go to Mass (30 minutes away) because I was clearly going to have the baby any minute. This was my third after all! I walked up and down our street all morning and walked over four miles but contractions never returned. It was a terrible day emotionally and I went to bed incredibly sad and anxious.

Monday I had a break from the night labor and then light contractions throughout the day. But around 3:00 am on Tuesday they started up again. Strong and regular and I was unable to sleep through them. They became closer together so I woke Ted up and told him I thought this was finally it. We packed some last minute things for the hospital and went downstairs to eat before leaving. Since we live 40 minutes from the hospital and had to wait at least 30 minutes for our on-call sitter to get to our house, we had planned to leave for the hospital as early as possible. Ted made bacon and eggs and while we were eating, contractions started to fizzle. I’d been in active labor for three hours when, once again, contractions completely stopped. It was starting to feel like a sick joke. We cancelled the sitter and put the bags back in our bedroom.

Tuesday I decided to work from home because dealing with the kids was more than I could handle at this point. I called a babysitter and retreated for a day to myself. I called my midwife and moved my scheduled appointment up from Friday to the next day, Wednesday. I called a friend’s dad who is a chiropractor and made an appointment for Thursday morning in case baby still hadn’t made an appearance. And I texted and complained to just about anyone who would listen. By this point I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days and was completely exhausted. But every time I tried to rest contractions would come back and keep me from falling asleep.

I went to bed Tuesday night full of dread, knowing I wasn’t going to get any sleep and that I also wasn’t going to meet my baby. I was right. At 10:00pm on Tuesday the contractions returned. Far apart but strong. I tried to go to sleep anyway and not be fooled for the fourth time. But by midnight I was miserable. We got up, packed the bags again, and made bacon and eggs again. And just like that, they slowed to a halt. We were so frustrated and exhausted at this point that we slept in the living room for the rest of the night. I had to get up every ten minutes to deal with contractions but they never got closer together. At 3:00 am I frantically texted my friend with tears streaming down my cheeks begging her to pull some strings and get me in to see her dad (the chiropractor) for help. She texted back (late night nursing mom to the rescue) and assured me she could get me in. I got absolutely no sleep that night and Ted didn’t get much either.

I asked Ted to stay home from work Wednesday morning because I was completely spent. It’s hard to even put into words how terrible I was doing. Emotionally, mentally, physically drained. I was losing my mind. I had been in labor, on and off, for five straight days and it felt like there was no end in sight. Ted stayed home with the kids while I went to the chiropractor at 10:00am by myself. He told me my pelvis “was twisted up like a pretzel” and said it was no wonder that the baby couldn’t descend. A quick adjustment and a few minutes with a vibrating massager on certain points of my back and he sent me on my way. He was incredibly confident I would have the baby within 24 hours.

That was at 11:00am. At noon on Wednesday I ate lunch then tried to take a nap. Contractions kept coming and didn’t allow me any sleep. They felt a bit different, but I was really trying not to get my hopes up at this point. I drove back into town that afternoon for the appointment with my midwife. We considered having Ted come with me, but I didn’t want to deal with finding a sitter for the kids or bringing them along. Hannah was sleeping but I hugged Paul goodbye and secretly savored the moment just in case it was the last time I saw him before he became a big brother. My doula and friend, AC, offered to come to the appointment with me so I met her there at 3:00. I had several contractions on the drive there, one that was especially difficult. Thankfully, I was at a red light for that one. I started to worry that coming to the appointment alone might have been a bad idea.

Contractions continued in the waiting room and I realized for the first time my contractions weren’t going away during the day. I had had several nights like this but they never carried into the day. I told my midwife about our five day saga and begged to be checked immediately. My jaw hit the floor when she told me I was 4-5 cm! She suggested “sweeping my membranes” and I said “absolutely!” She also asked me to do a non-stress test and hooked me up the monitor for a half hour. I relaxed and breathed through contractions and chatted with AC in between. Halfway through she came in checked the strip, told me I was having contractions every six minutes, and that I would not be driving back home that afternoon.

Finally! It was so good to have some confirmation that yes, these were here to stay and I was actually going to the hospital for real this time. I called Ted and lined up the daytime on-call babysitter and texted my parents to “leave now.” They were driving from Missouri (13 hours) just like they had with Paul’s birth. Only Paul’s was so long that they made it to my room just moments after he was born. Surely this time would be different, right?

My midwife suggested I go get something to eat and then check into the hospital. She sneakily recommended I tell triage I had been 3cm at my appointment to guarantee they’d keep me thinking I had progressed quickly to a 4.

AC and I decided I shouldn’t drive anymore and we transferred my stuff into her car and left my vehicle at the office. Contractions kept getting more and more intense and I remember wondering if I should go to the hospital right away and skip food but I wouldn’t say it out loud. I still had a fear that this would all come screeching to a halt.

AC drove me to Moe’s, my restaurant of choice. It was bizarre laboring in her car. In between contractions we chatted and hung out like we were just two high-schoolers headed to the mall. So very different from the beginning of Hannah and Paul’s labors which started in the middle of the night and so were so intimate between me and Ted. While ordering at Moe’s I had a strong contraction. The girl behind the counter asked what I wanted on my quesadilla and I just turned my back to her and swayed through the contractions for a minute, then turned back around and said “cilantro.” She said, “Are we having a baby today?” and I excitedly said yes. Then a moment later she jokingly asked “For here or to go?” Her face when I said, “For here,” was priceless. But I wanted my food and I wasn’t about to try to eat it in the hospital waiting room!

Contractions kept getting stronger and closer together and I felt antsy to get to the hospital. AC wanted to stop for a toothbrush on the way to the hospital because she forgot hers and was being super considerate of my sensitive nose. But when she started to pull into the pharmacy I kind of freaked out and knew I just couldn’t wait any longer. She consented and took me straight to the hospital.

We got to triage at 5:45pm. Ted was still at home with the kids waiting for our friend, Mary, to get there with her kids. I knew it would be a while before he could join us and I was very grateful AC was already with me. Getting into triage was slow and contractions just kept on coming. I changed into the gown and got checked. 6cm! Very encouraging. They didn’t have any rooms available and told me I would be in triage for a while.

I made the best of laboring in triage and got into a rhythm despite the noise, bright lights, and constant interruptions. I sucked on gummy bears and practiced a lot of non-focused visualization with the purple tulips on the wallpaper.  Ted finally arrived and reported that the kids were super excited that it was baby time but even more excited that their friends came over. He brought in the birth ball and we squeezed it into our tiny triage space, which helped a lot. The nurse messed up on inserting the IV for the heparin lock and called in another nurse. That nurse also had a hard time and suddenly my entire forearm was bruised. The pain from the needles was worse than the pain of labor! It took them four tries to finally get it right and my arm was sore for more than a week after.

After more than hour in triage we were finally taken to a room. We kept the lights dimmed and AC spread white Christmas lights around the room to make it more relaxing. I fell into a rhythm between the birth ball, leaning on the sink, walking around the room, and squatting. I sucked on honey sticks and gummy worms and drank a lot of gatorade. 

Contractions were silent and I didn’t want to be touched. That was hard for Ted. During the last two labors I wanted his physical touch almost constantly and he had a very important role in my relaxation. I think that because labor started without him I had figured out a way to relax by myself and I had a hard time switching it up. He struggled with being passive while I was in so much pain so I tried to hold his hands when I could and asked him to hold the heating pad on my back.

There was still some confusion about who was coming to watch the kids for the night and our texts weren't getting through to the sitter. Ted could have (and was) taken care of it, but it was hard for me to relax not knowing if they were 100% covered. Finally, we connected with the sitter and I ended up with some cute pictures of them playing with their friends and an adorable text from Hannah with lots of heart emojis. 

So far, labor had been progressing quickly and I was handling contractions really well. We kept up with our rhythm and thought it would be just a matter of time until we met our baby....

(stay tuned!)

On Mother's Day

My experience of motherhood has been wrought with irony. It is the thing I desperately longed for and now the thing I run from on a daily basis. Both intensely energizing and incredibly exhausting. It forces me to face my many inadequacies but also reveals strengths I never knew I possessed. I'm so blessed that these children call me their mother, but damn if it isn't also the hardest thing I've ever done!

Happy Mother's Day to all mothers! And to those who are still longing and waiting and hurting on this day, you have my sincerest prayers.

2014 in Review

I'm fairly confident that waiting until the month of February to do a 2014 recap makes me the latest blogger to the party. But seriously, how is it February already? January came and went so quickly and here we are in the month when we become a family of FIVE! I'm quite positive that time will now come to a screeching halt and I will painfully and impatiently await the days ahead for this little bundle to be born. 39 and a half weeks right now, but who's counting?

So....January.

Photographic evidence suggests that not a lot happened. I took this poor quality photo of Hannah and Ted stomping down leaves in the back of his truck to fit in more leaves. Because we raked a TON of leaves in January. Looking back at old photos, we also apparently got sick, gave the kids baths (obviously), went to the park, and watched Ted play in a few city league basketball games.

February

Our sweet girl turned three! We had a party at the park down the street and I made a really awesome lion cake, as requested by the birthday girl. Ted took Hannah fishing a lot. We spent some time at the zoo. And I got hipster glasses that I continue to wear without being very confident that they actually look good on me.

March

We made a St. Joseph's alter. And had another birthday party. Paul turned one on Mardi Gras so we had a low key celebration with just a few friends and a ridiculously time consuming and only somewhat yummy gluten and dairy free king cake. Hannah continued gymnastics. My parents came to visit and we had a ton of fun at the new splash pad in town. There was also more fishing. And more time at the zoo.

April

We got a bike trailer and used it every single day to ride to the park a mile from our house. We took both kids out on the boat and it went about as you would expect it go. We celebrated Easter and taught Hannah to ride a bike with training wheels.

May

We started putting together our family alter. We crowned Mary at our weekly play group. And Ted and I went on an actual date! We didn't even have a gift card and had to pay for a babysitter and everything.

June

We found out we were pregnant! (suppressing the urge to make the obvious date-night joke) Hannah and I took a girls-only road trip to Missouri for my sister's bridal shower and I got to tell my family the good news in person. We also got to stop in Mississippi and visit our friends just before they moved to Texas (which, sadly, is no longer on our route home...) We spent a few days at the beach with Ted's mom, sisters, and nephew. Ted's dad to came to visit. More fishing. More playing at the park. More gymnastics.

July

July was pretty uneventful. We announced our good news to the rest of the world and mostly tried to stay cool and avoid going outside if at all possible.

August

August was quite the fun month. We spent a week at the beach, this time with my side of the family. My parents, two sisters, one boyfriend, and one fiancee all in a house together. I continued to feel sick even though I moved into that magical second trimester. After the beach trip, my mom stayed with us for another week so that I could attend a week-long training at work. Since she was in town over our six year anniversary, we got to go on ANOTHER date! (that's a 12 week bump pictured. man, third babies!) The rest of the month was spent trying to get creative in the terrible heat.

September

September. Oh glorious, glorious September. I hope you are etched in my mind forever. We moved! We're renting a beautiful farm house way, way, way out of town. Our new town consists of a blinking yellow light, a gas station, and Methodist church, and a feed store. Although Ted's commute is long and it's a haul to take the kids anywhere, it's beyond worth it. Our landlords are missionaries and spend half the year abroad and half the year staying in the pool house (which means we have a pool!). We met them the day we moved in and (thank you Jesus!) get along with them really well. It's very communal living and the house and yard need a lot of upkeep, but in exchange for our privacy and free time we get fields of luscious green grass, fruit trees galore, horses and cows and chickens surrounding us on all sides, and the most amazing view of the sunrise and sunset every single day. 

Life slowed down in September. I finally got that energy boost that comes with the second trimester. We spent all day, every day outside just.....being. Moving was hard and getting the house together was stressful, but we did it and were mostly settled by the end of the month.

September 2014, I love you.

October

October was also awesome. We planned a pumpkin patch/wagon ride/potato soup party with friends but it was so stinking hot that it turned into a swimming pool/brats and burgers party. We hooked the flat bed trailer up to the lawn mower and took the kids on wagon rides in the evenings when it did finally cool down. We picked tons of pears and made pies (that we didn't share with the kids). We pinched ourselves every day and said "I can't believe we live here." At the end of the month, we drove to Missouri for my sister's wedding. The two day trip went surprisingly well. I got to spend a weekend sans kids in St. Louis for my sister's bachelorette party. The kids both got sick and daddy took care of everything like a boss. We got the see real fall leaves for the first time in years, something we've really missed since moving to Florida. We spent Halloween at the rehearsal dinner and our kids have no idea that candy is involved in dressing up and saying "trick or treat."

November

November kicked our butts. It was the most fun/intense/stressful/busy/awesome month in recent memory. Maybe ever. It started off with a bang on the very first day (All Saint's Day!) with my sister's beautiful wedding to the most wonderful man. Such a holy celebration. A true sacrament. Incense. Inspiring homily. As good as Catholic weddings get. And so much fun! But performing my matron-of-honor duties while six months pregnant and also taking care of the non-napping flower girl and ring bearer with my groomsman husband might have actually been the hardest day of my life. 

We returned home from our two week trip for just a few days before we packed it all up again and went to Arkansas to visit friends. In the few days we were home we went to a fall festival and had a few bonfires. Then it was back in the car for four more days and sleeping in more hotel rooms. Despite it being a frigid, frigid weekend in Arkansas (we saw snow! a whole centimeter. and that was plenty) we had a great time catching up with our friends who moved away from Florida last Christmas.

In just three weeks we drove 3,000 miles and slept in eight different locations. And somewhere in that whirlwind Hannah started riding a bike without training wheels! At three! We still can't believe it. By the end of November, we were looking very forward to a quiet December at home.

December

December was exactly what we were hoping it would be. Life slowed back down. We really got into celebrating Advent and the many feasts days that came with it. We woke up in our own home on Christmas morning for the first time ever. We lived it up during the Twelve Days of Christmas and enjoyed family movie nights and light displays and took the kids out on the boat for the second time (it went much better than the first). We sent out Christmas cards. We sang Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel at dinner and then switched to Joy to the World. (The kids are still singing both and it's just adorable.)

We didn't get to end the year in an Adoration chapel on our annual New Year's retreat in the Missouri mountains with friends. But we did Skype with a few of them, chose patron saints for 2015 together, and actually stayed up until midnight. We ended the year grateful for our home and for our (three!) children. God blessed us abundantly in 2014.