Found my camera hookup cord so I could finally post some pictures. Here are a few of my favorites. :]
This is what I get to wake up to :] This is before his first spongebath. (Grandma and Grandpa love giving babies baths and were dropping hints like crazy.) He's already already grown since this one...
More to come! I'm currently working on a post about motherhood and another one that's more about my feelings about Jamie's birth. They still need to simmer a bit though. :]
So my computer is being stupid and won't read my memory card--hence the reason I don't have any pictures to put up right away. I've been thinking about posting an update about everything, but even when Jamie is sleeping it's hard for me to pull myself away! He is so perfect. I love just staring at him. Sunday evening he was really awake and we just laid parallel to each other and stared and stared. We're quite infatuated with each other. He is such a good baby! He has 3 cries: I'm hungry, I have gas, and I want mommy. The third one doesn't really happen all that much honestly. He goes great to other people. Which makes my family very happy. :] This boy is surrounded by so much love it's incredible. Even the circumstances of his birth were filled with family and love. In the words of my doula, Christine, "This child came from a salty womb and was born into an ocean of love." She's a hippie, but I love her. She also said something to the effect that nothing can go wrong with this child because of the circumstances of his birth. She's such a sweet person--she was crying when she told me this! She's attended 17 births since she started being a doula about a year ago and she mostly attends under 18 mothers and doesn't charge them for her services. Christine also said that this was the most beautiful birth she has ever attended (and the longest! ;]). Oh, and also the most dramatic. Hehe, the nurses and doctors who attended my birth also mentioned that this would be a birth they'd never forget. Well, enough teasing...here's the story!
I went into the hospital for an induction appointment Thursday August 12th, but was able to finagle my way out of it because I was only 50% effaced and not dilated at all. It was a struggle since, in the words of the resident (boo hiss), "when people make an appointment we like them to follow through." To cover themselves legally they made me sign a AMA (Against Medical Advice) form which I'd like to have framed. Just because. Makes me sound like such a rebel. Which I totally wasn't being by the way! Everyone who came in to look at me had the undertone of knowing that an induction wouldn't take and I'd probably end up having a cesarean. *fyi: I am *not* against all cesareans! I would, of course, have an emergency cesarean if it was necessary. I am not, however, in favor of having an elect cesarean. I would like to avoid the circumstances that would domino into the requirement of an emergency cesarean. Hence, why I didn't want to be induced under unfavorable cervical conditions that Thursday when my ob/gyn agreed that I could stand to have a few more days without any extra risk to the baby and myself. So, back to my story. My ob/gyn (a condescending woman who pulls out the dead baby card A LOT and with whom I often argue with, but we end up getting more honest communication going that way) agreed that I could wait until Sunday night to be induced. Awesome! 3 more days!
Except nothing happened. I should let you know that prior to my Thursday night induction I had been taking a Blue and Black Kohosh tincture regularly. They are powerful herbs that are *supposed* to put you into labor within 5 hours. I took it for 3 days with nothing to show for it. Hence another reason I was pretty sure I wouldn't go into labor with pitocin (later I found out how right I was). Anyways, I walked and hiked around a LOT those three days, but had nothing to show for it except aching calves. So I went in to the hospital Sunday night to be induced. Once I was there they checked my cervix and I was 1 1/2 cm dilated! I was seriously estatic. I didn't think anything had changed and was worried about trying an induction when I still had an unfavorable cervix. But still, 1 1/2 cm is not that much (some women can be at a 2 or 3 cm for weeks before going into labor), so I decided to try the Vulvibulb. Okay, this is a little graphic, but it's basically a long tube they insert into your uterus that they fill with fluid to create pressure on the cervix. Looks something like this: -------O (I'd be lying down...) Google it if you're confused because I'm done explaining. The idea is that after its inserted and filled the nurses come in every few hours to tug on it and eventually it'll fall out and voila, I'll be dilated to a forced 4 cm. Now this rarely actually puts women into labor. It just forces you to dilate by simulating the pressure of the baby's head on the cervix. Sooo after an hour or so of some very uncomfortable (okay, miserable!) cramping due to this foreign object inside my cervix I was able to get some good sleep.
Monday morning! The nurse comes in, tugs, leaves. Since I am, by nature, an impatient person, I tug and it falls out. Yay! Forced 4 cm! So then they hook up my IV to pitocin to hopefully get things going. 2 units/ hr and they upped the dose by 2 units every half hour. In the meantime they try and get another IV going on my other hand for an insulin drip. Um, about 2 hours later, after one nurse dug around for about 5 min ("It was right there!") and another nurse tried and epic-ly failed ("I'm confident I can get this one in your hand." yeah, she went THROUGH the vein), yet another nurse (shift change!) came in and got one in. I could hear the hallelujah chorus by this point. YAY I love Aimee, the nurse. So anyways, after I was up to 20 units/hr of pitocin, absolutely nothing had changed. I was definitely not going into labor, despite the regular Braxton Hix-esque contractions I was having. So they took me off the pitocin that evening to flush it out of my system and let me eat, so they could start again. Monday, middle of the night-ish, they started up the pitocin again. I slept fantastically that night and by Tuesday morning it was obvious that nothing was changing. So, off the pitocin again, yay glorious food, and they started me back up AGAIN. By this time, I pretty much know the nurses and attending physicians schedules. Michelle Pham, an attending physician whom I adore, came onto her shift to see me for the second time and suggested breaking my water. She left before I made a decision only slightly joking when she told me that she "better see me in Mother/Baby!" for her next shift.
So. I was at a forced 4cm dilated, on my third round of pitocin and I had started to have some uncomfortable contractions indicating I might have started to go into early labor. These contractions were managable, but definitely made me stop and focus to get through them. I also had done a lot of squats earlier in the day to try and get Jamie to drop. By 3pm I was still only 4 cm dilated, 60% effaced, but the good news was that my cervix, which had been turned more posterior, was more oriented more anterior. The bad news was I was stationed at a -2. So. What does all this mean. If they broke my water the cord could very well slip in between the head and the opening of the cervix, causing pinched blood flow every time I had a contraction, resulting in an emergency cesarean. The cord could also get pinched somewhere else in the uterus because the cushioning of the amniotic fluid would be gone. This was all more likely to happen because Jamie's head was stationed at a -2 rather than fully dropped at a 0. Buuut I was obviously not progressing on my own and because I was being induced because of my diabetes they weren't going to send me home. Jamie had to be delivered and I was pretty much down to my last option to kickstart labor that wasn't an elect cesarean.
At 3:30pm on Tuesday, August 17th the resident (Whitney) broke my water and pretty much the very next contraction made it obvious that I had been jump started into very intense, active labor. I honestly felt like I had been hit by a freight train. I can't express how grateful I was for Christine and Stephanie for helping me breathe through the contractions. Honestly, I don't think I got more than 5 real breaks between all the contractions of my active labor phase. They would start super intense and then taper off a teeny tiny bit and then go back to being super intense. When I did get relief it was like manna from heaven. I have never done anything so difficult in my life. After 2 hours they checked my cervix and I was dilated to a 5 1/2. I have never felt so devastated in my entire life. And the doctors were like "that's so good! you're progressing on your own!." I wanted to die I was so distraught. I had no idea how I could keep going and literally not die. I kid you not. But your body does not have a "go back' button, so it kept a-going. Two agonizing hours later they checked my cervix and I was dilated to a TEN!! I have no idea how that happened, but I had never been so happy. Some of you may realize the significance of that, but to you that don't...I mean, that just doesn't happen. Progressing 4 1/2 cm in 2 hours for your first child?? I give most of the credit to Christine and Stephanie who got me to stop vocalizing during the super super strong contractions that made me double over. Once I started just breathing through them is when I think things started to move along a lot quicker. Anyways I was so happy to hear that I was fully dilated I jumped up to the squatting bar on the bed and got ready to push. I did not realize how long you can push for. Contractions are painful, but pushing is soooo exhausting. I was dripping sweat in no time. After a while my legs and feet were falling asleep from being in the squatting position and stretching them out was beginning to become more and more difficult, so I elected to move to the floor and squat at the end of the bed. So now I have some logistical explaining to do. I had 4 fluids being pumped into me via 2 IVs, one on my right arm and one on my left. When I was at the squatting bar I was facing the end of the bed and my left hand was closest to the left side of the bed where my IV was hooked up and same with my right hand and IV. When I turned around to face the head of the bed while squatting on the floor my IVs were crossed. I hope this makes sense because it gets important in the ensuing drama. So I was pushing while squatting (imagine a grande plie) and I was so hunched over when I pushed that my head was basically under the bed. Meanwhile, the doctor and nurses set up everything to deliver my baby underneath me on the floor. Right about when Jamie was about to crown the doctor asked if I'd like to get up on the bed. I was running into the same problem of my legs falling asleep and I was getting more and more uncomfortable (not to mention exhausted) so I agreed. (More like whimpered, probably.) Welllll, when I tried to get up I blacked out and was caught by a nurse behind me who couldn't move because my IVs were tangled in the squatting bar on the bed which my mom and sister couldn't figure out how to remove and my arms were being pulled because there wasn't any slack on the IVs. Yeah. That's when the doctor called for emergency and immediately there were a bajillion people in the room to help. The squatting bar was removed and the IVs given some slack and I was put back on the floor to push Jamie's head out (it was actually quite a few pushes before that happened and I honestly didn't think I could push anymore I was so out of it with exhaustion). After his head was out they lowered me alll the way onto my back and did the classic on-the-back, hands-holding-thighs, hospital bed pose to push the rest of Jamie out. Except I was on the bare floor. Apparently that's never happened before at this particular Kaiser. My new name to everyone on the floor that night who heard about it was "rockstar." No joke. Jamie's will be a birth to remember. I guess 90% of births at Kaiser end up having an epidural, so it was a unique experience for a lot of the nurses to see a natural birth as well. Now I know why it was so quiet everytime I walked around the Labor and Delivery area. I was *not* quiet.
Alright, I'm tired of typing. I'll post "part two" in the near future. It'll be about everything after Jamie was born and will be a lot less graphic and much more touching I promise. :]
Off to go stare at my miracle. <3
***mom, stephanie, dad, alysa...all those who were there :]...feel free to add whatever you remember!***
Some advice from my grandmother: You got into this by yourself, and you need to get out of it by yourself. May sound harsh to some, but not to me. I do need to do this by myself. And I know I can. I wasn't sure for a while, but I'm ready now. I'm ready to welcome Jamie. :]
I shamelessly stole the above quote from an old friend. I've been thinking a lot about fear and this line helped me come to a point where I think I can better articulate what's been simmering in my brain. I've been taught that fear is the antithesis of faith and that if one is present, the other cannot exist. In the past I've often let fear be my guide. What's interesting to me is how I created a faulty "solution" to this problem of being guided by fear through the misunderstanding of this principle of faith vs. fear. The lesson I interpreted from this true principle was that fear was "bad" and that I was being "bad" when I felt it. So I did what I thought you were supposed to do with undesirable emotions--I suppressed it. I have come now to realize that is a very childish way of dealing with any issue. It's like when my mom would ask me to clean my room and instead of actually folding my clothes and putting things back in their place, I would stash everything either under the bed or in my closet. Voila! Clean, right? Well, maybe at first, but that sort of cleaning is only a quick fix. In a similar fashion, I treated the symptom rather than the source of my problem of fear. I fundamentally didn't understand the principle I had been taught in all my growing up years. I've been thinking about this a lot lately because I've been experiencing fear relating to me and my son's future and especially the loss I'm scared I'll be feeling when I no longer have an exclusive relationship with him and I have to share him. It may sound stupid, but I'm guessing I'm not the only one who's ever felt a little down thinking about the kicks and punches they'll no longer be feeling from the inside-out. I started to get after myself and tried to just convince myself that I was being unreasonable and, well, unrighteous (for lack of a better word) for feeling fear. But that obviously wasn't helping. It was once I started talking about my fears and figuring out ways I could actively conquer them that I ended up feeling better. And I recognize now that dealing with my emotions in that way--acknowledging and dealing with them rather than suppressing or running from them--will help me avoid the paralyzing long term affects of the quick fix. Something else that I think contributed to this faulty perception of fear vs faith is oversimplification. I am a firm believer in keeping things simple, but that doesn't mean things are simple. We should learn in a simple fashion, "line upon line, and precept upon precept." An atom is composed of relatively simple parts, but as you expand outward and study the relationships atoms create (molecules, cells, etc etc) you find at the other end something as unique and vastly complex as the human body. I think this works as a metaphor for other principles in life. Faith is related to much more than we often give it credit for. Like an atom, faith is a building block. It is the beginning source of a vast network of relationships to other principles that create something much bigger than simply "belief." Some relationships I've come to recognize are with love, hope, and patience. Each of those principles have relationships with others. And that's how the network grows into, well, the soul. Forgive me if I'm being overly theological, but I've been going through a lot of self-discovery lately and I don't want to lose what I've learned. I don't claim that what I say is fact. Rather this is documentation of my spiritual progress. I can pretty much guarantee that I'll learn something new that will either change part of what I'm coming to now or maybe even build upon other branches of my discovery. Life is evolutionary. And thank goodness. If people couldn't change, I'd be in a pretty awful funk. Continuing on about the network created by faith (I swear I'm almost done with my thoughts) I think that the real problem, at least for me, with my simplified view of faith was that I ended up underestimating the destructive power of fear. This brings me back to the title of this entry: "But fear will falter all." Now that I realize that faith is so much more than just believing in something, the principle that faith cannot exist where fear is present has a lot more impact. Fear can destroy so many good things! It truly can falter all! Love, hope, charity, peace; all the things that faith has relationships with cannot stand where fear dominates. I used to wonder how I got into the awful state of being that I was in, but now it makes a lot more sense. Fear is a disease that is not to be underestimated. It may sound overly dramatic, but based on my experience, fear will eat away at your soul's immune system, so-to-speak, until you no longer have the capacity to be happy. I feel like I sound like a fruitcake, but you can't be happy when you're scared. And I know that's true. Quick fixes just don't cut it. I want something that will last. And I think that the vulnerability that comes from acknowledging and dealing with legitimate fears in our lives is definitely worth the end result of true and lasting happiness.
So, the hall bathroom mirror needs a good cleaning. But if you can make out the whale-like creature through the toothpaste and hairspray spatters you'll be looking at a very pregnant me. 38 weeks and 4 days. If I don't go into labor naturally in the next couple of days I'll be induced Thursday evening. Hopefully the herbal tincture takes and I'll be in labor early afternoon on Wednesday. I asked my magic 8 ball if I'd give birth on Thursday and it said "Looks Promising," so I'm pretty excited about that. :] Never doubt a magic 8 ball.
Wednesday is 3 days away. Wow. -------------------------------------- I'd like to take a little time for a brain spew. Lately I've been thinking a lot about time. From a very young age we learn that we have to wait for things. Like waiting for mommy to feed me or get off the telephone or for a playdate with one of our best friends. I've heard time described as the great equalizer. But I'm not so sure if there is anything equal about it. When we're young waiting five minutes can seem like days and a couple of hours like years. But the same child can completely lose himself in a couple of hours of make-believe play. Time really has no meaning to a child. It is an intangible subject and no matter how long a toddler needs to wait for something, whether it be 5 minutes or 5 days, it really only translates to "not now." Hm. Well maybe it is the great equalizer. I guess what I meant was that time translates differently depending on the situation and, I believe, the experience of the individual. Something that seems forever to one person can feel like no time at all to another. Time is relative. But time waits for no man. It goes marching on no matter the circumstance. Then how in the heck is it able to be translated so differently from person to person? How can a six hour labor and delivery shift, composed of thousands of the most incomprehensibly important and valuable moments to dozens of young couples, translate to just another work day for a busy nurse? I suppose it would be exhausting to nurses if they felt the same magnitude of emotion for every birth they attended, but my point is still valid. A labor and delivery nurse may not remember every birth they attend, but for the new young mother it's a moment she will never, ever forget. In literally a matter of moments, two selfish lives can create another. And after 9 months (which sometimes feel like years, but often pass far too quickly) in the separate, yet uniquely intimate act of birth a perfect child will take its first breath. He will never take another first breath. That moment is sacred and it belongs to only those who were there. Age is very much related to time. Although personally I feel that experience is a better way of talking about age rather than simply the number of years one has lived. This reminds me of the lyrics of a couple of songs. "I remember someone old once said to me, that lies will lock you up with truth the only key." -missy higgins. Was the significance of the statement related simply to the fact that the person who said them had lived a long time? No, it was the experiences that person had that rendered them credibility. Someone just as old could easily have not learned the same profound lesson. Another quote is "It's hard to believe that I'm getting older, when my heart still believes I'll always be young." Another universal theme. I haven't been able to get this one off my mind. I've been told since I was 17 that I look a lot older than I am. I've finally reached an age that isn't considered ridiculously young for where I am in life. But again, it's not the age that matters. I'm moving on to a completely new stage of life. Normally, marriage is a step to this stage. When you're single or even dating, time is all yours. You can do whatever you want with it and for the most part, you still have more to spare. Take a break from school and whats the big deal? It's your time, to do with what you please and it really doesn't affect anyone else. In marriage, you share time. In parenting, you don't own any time. I'm making a jump from all time to no time. Even in a long working day, you can come home and have it be your time. Not company time, but your time for which you are the sole person responsible. Parenting is a completely different schedule that requires instant unselfishness. I think many times people don't pay enough attention to the moments that create this existence of borrowed time we call life. The moments matter. We can't go back and collect the ones we missed. Our hearts can stay young while our bodies age, depending on how we treat the moments we are given. Time is such a valuable commodity. I could go on and on about it, but every once in a while I have to give my brain a rest. It's a common thing; time is given to everyone. But somehow I have a hard time wrapping my head around it.
Credits to Stephanie for the quote. Apparently it's from a maternity shirt. Speaking of crafts...I thought I'd share a few things that I've done in the past month or so. First off is this much neglected changing table that my mom saved from the dump. It was sad. And beyond filthy. But here it is after a lot of washing, sanding, painting and patience!
These were a lot of fun to make. And suuuper easy.
I believe there are two things every child should have: footie pajamas and a hooded bath towel. I must admit I stole this idea from my sister-in-law's sister...it is just *too* awesome. I am very proud of myself, haha.
There is more, but most of things I've been doing are organizational things which really are not fascinating to blog about. Of course, I get over-excited about those types of things. Hence the random post yesterday about fitted sheets. They probably have medication for people who get that excited about clean, folded sheets and towels. Alysa now calls the linen closet my zen garden. Pathetically, it's a pretty good description of how I feel about it.
This talk by Jeffery Holland is one of my favorite things. I was lucky enough to be there when he gave this talk at BYU and as powerful as it is read, it's that much more incredible to hear/see him give it. Every time I've re-read this talk something new touches me. Last night when I read it I was particularly touched by his last story of him and his wife.
Funny, I thought I'd quickly search youtube to see if I could find a recording of him giving this talk and instead I found this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nczw6xHJ0I Mormon messages tend to air on the extremely cheesy side and this is no exception, but I still got choked up. I guess that makes me a sap. Or a mother, lol. Regardless, it's what I needed to hear.
Well I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep and now is as good a time as any to update, so here I am!
I am so happy.
I want to try and explain this feeling. It's not simply the emotional and physical excitement that comes from the journey of bringing a child into this world. Although I want to make clear I don't discount those feelings--they are real and I am not a fan when people talk about "oh those crazy hormones" like they're to blame for emotions considered vulnerable or weak by others. Those hormones and feelings are *supposed* to happen. And they are not weak by any stretch of the imagination. They are argueably the most powerful and most important emotions that exist in the entire human experience. They facilitate a nearly inpenetrable bond that is vital to a child's physiological survival. I reserve the right to continue that rant later. I thought I'd start it now before I lose most of my credibility because, for some reason, mothers who feel strongly about something are usually put into a box labeled "crazy." (MADD has eluded this box and good for them!) My journey has definitely been emotional, but the last few months especially have been more spiritual than anything else. I am so grateful for this because I believe the distance I've felt emotionally between myself and my son has helped me be able to better recognize answers to prayers without confusion as to where my impressions were coming from. I wanted to make sure that my decision was based on spiritual revelation rather than emotional turmoil. And because I was able to do that I know that I'm making a decision that I can live with for the rest of my life, despite challenges that undoubtedly will come my way. So, for the most part, I think it's safe to say that I've spent the majority of my time exploring the logical side of things and postponing the emotional to "deal with later." I don't want this to sound like I haven't been feeling or acknowledging emotions as they come, but I didn't know how to prepare myself emotionally for when I eventually came to a decision. My caseworker suggested that I try doing emotional visualizations to prepare for birth. This (err yesterday) morning I tried it. I imagined being in the hospital and experiencing fear and imagined the emotion passing through me, rather than immediately rejecting or accepting it. I think this exercise, coupled with the peace/relief/release I've felt about finally having a decision and the reality check of making an induction date, allowed me to finally begin to experience the tip of the titanic-sized iceberg of emotions that I'm pretty dang sure will happen at birth. So after that very long prelude, let me explain how I feel. This is a consuming joy. This child did much more than change my life, he saved it. He will continue to change (and save) my life as he grows from a tiny, perfect human being to a messy, curious and insightful toddler to an oftentimes awkward teenager to a man who will someday marry an incredibly lucky girl and have a family of his own. I feel so blessed to have been chosen as the guardian of this powerful spirit. And I think words are not powerful enough to describe how excited I am to meet him. I know a little about him. I know he loves music and I know that he loves me. And not just because he's hardwired too, either. I also know that he trusts me completely. And I will do all that I can to be the best example for him. What else can I say? In a week this journey will segway into an adventure that I can't possibly begin to be fully prepared for. But this is right. And it is good. It will be difficult, but so were these last 9 months and I wouldn't trade any of those difficulties for anything in the world. Trials have a way of backing us into corners where all we can look is up. I thank my Heavenly Father for having the wisdom to trust me with such a "trial" as this one. If I can have moments of this kind of penetrating, intense, all-consuming joy, then I can have faith I'll enjoy this next leg of my journey and be able to recognize my trials as the blessings they have and will become, and really are from the beginning.
I must admit to being just a wee bit nervous today. I go in for a NST (Non Stress Test--they hook me up to a fetal monitor for a half an hour to make sure baby's doing well and measure my contractions) and my regular endocrine high risk clinic appointment today. The ob/gyn said last week that this would be the week that we talk about setting an induction date. I've been told in the past that if all went well I could go until my due date, but then more recently I've been told that, if everything is going well, they'll want to induce me at 39 weeks. If anything "comes up" though, they'll be wanting to take him at 38 weeks. Did I mention I'll be 38 weeks TOMORROW? I wouldn't be so nervous if they didn't keep changing their mind about when they want to induce. My blood sugars have been consistently pretty dang awesome (my Ha1C has been in the 5's pretty much the entire pregnancy) and his weight, which can also be a worry for diabetic babies, is right on track. Not to mention I've been feeling pretty dang fantastic lately. A week and a half ago I wasn't feeling as good as I have the last couple of days. Weird, but I'm going to enjoy it as long as I can. I'm not waking up in the night as much, definitely a lot less nightmares, aaand I even went on a nice little hike at Rancho San Antonio with the fam yesterday. I've been having quite a few low blood sugars, which surprises me because at certain times of day I'm already down to pre-pregnancy basal rates, but I've had hardly any highs to speak of which is what I'm more concerned about at this point anyways. All-in-all, I think I can handle staying pregnant a little while longer. My honest opinion of when they'll say to induce? Next week sometime. I have an ultrasound scheduled for Monday and I think they'll be wanting to schedule a time for me to come in Wednesday or Thursday for an induction. Of course, I haven't mentioned the herbal induction tincture my doula had prepared for me. =] Basically, I plan on talking to my ob/gyn today and whenever they want to induce I'll start taking this herbal tincture a day or so before. From what research I've done, this tincture is safe and induces much more natural labor than pitocin. Well, I'll stop rambling on, but in a few hours I think I'll have a pretty good guess of when this little munchkin's birthday is going to be. So crazy!
