Welcome

The purpose of my 3 week trip to Tennessee was to be there for the birth of my brother and sister in law's first baby. It was incredible to be apart of the whole thing: the waiting, the gender reveal, the excitement of welcoming a new family member, and witnessing the birth of a family.

There is something really amazing about witnessing people you love become parents. I knew Seth and Jenny would be awesome at it, I have watched them love my babies for the past 3 years. But it is entirely different seeing new parents fall in love with their first baby. I never realized how emotional I would be watching it all unfold. I cried every time I was with them and their new baby girl, Ryan.

Here's a peak at their big day:

 

 

 

 

I am so grateful to have been there to welcome baby Ryan and watch my brother and sister in law become parents. Congrats, you guys!

Ho Ho Ho, Penelope Is Here

Guess what I'm doing right now. It involves an uncomfortable hospital room recliner, sore boob-parts, and a teeny baby. Give up? It's pretty special really. I'm nursing our new baby girl, Penelope Leigh.

I had our baby last night! Say hello.

I went into labor early Tuesday morning. Contractions started coming regularly around 6am. I labored at home all morning while JD ran last minute errands and my sister in law watched Beatrice. Since I was 2 days past my due date, I had an ultrasound scheduled for noon to check on the baby's size, fluid levels, and overall well-being inside my uterus. The contractions were stronger, but not increasing in intervals so I kept my appointment. Baby was measuring right on track at 40 weeks and doing great, thank God.

My family has a history of huge babies - 12 pounders - so my OB was not thrilled with leaving this baby in for much longer. Because of my strong desire to labor and deliver naturally and med-free, I spent the greater portion of the past week praying fervently to go into labor on my own. Induction scared me and JD and I had decided that as long as the baby was not in danger, we would not agree to it. Thankfully, God decided that Tuesday was an excellent day to have a baby. So we did!

At my appointment, I was dilated to 3 cms when my doctor checked me. She said that by the way I was breathing through the contractions and able to talk immediately after them, I was not ready to go to the hospital and have the baby until later that night. That was the weird thing about this labor: I managed the contractions so differently than I did with Beatrice. I breathed and groaned through them instead of tensing up my body and holding my breathe. It really helped. I felt great after each grueling labor pain. I found that breathing and focusing on what was happening to my body was surprisingly helpful and made the contractions so much more manageable. I handled the pain completely differently and had a really great recovery period in between the contractions. To everyone that witnessed my first childbirth experience, this time probably seemed like false labor.

After the ultrasound appointment, JD and I headed home to eat. I had some toast and ice water. The contractions started picking up so we packed the last of our bags and headed to the hospital around 3:30. I was admitted and dilated to 5 cms. I was so tired and really wanted to sleep, but with contractions coming every 2 minutes or so, that wasn't possible. I really started wondering why natural childbirth was so important to me. Sleep seemed like the better option at that point. But my wonderful husband and nurse encouraged me to keep going according to my birth plan. Stupid birth plan. So I did.

I quickly progressed. From 4 o'clock to 6, I advanced from 5 cms to 8. The OB on call came in to talk about breaking my water. I agreed and that's when the party started. The sucky, terrible pain party that take you to a place of no turning back. Contractions come at you every 30 seconds or so and birth is imminent. There is no relief from the pain and you better get your head in the game if it's not already because it's almost time to expel a human from your loins. Don't go to that party if you can help it.  

Within an hour I was ready to push. Throughout the entire labor, I groaned and made a ho ho ho sound. Every couple of ho ho hos, JD would chime in with a "Merry Christmas." He's funny, that guy. As soon as I felt the urge to push, all ho ho hoing ceased and I became a savage animal-woman. I raged from deep within my belly to GET THE BABY OUT. I was not kind about it, I did not wait to be told to push, I decided that I had had enough of laboring this baby and it was time to GET HER OUT. And that would have been fine with everyone except the bed wasn't ready. While the nurses scrambled to prepare the bed and the biohazard bags, I began pushing out the baby on my side with nothing but everyone's shoes under my now disassembled bed. I regret to announce that no one's shoes made it, not even mine. They all got slimed. With uterine guts, blood, and poop. Let's just leave it at that...

I somehow managed to get on my back and after 7 minutes of pushing, Penelope Leigh's tiny little body came out of me. Pushing her was hard and painful. I remember feeling lots of pressure with Beatrice's exit from my body, but this time I felt stinging, burning pain. Like I was ripping from the front to back. Thankfully, it only felt like that. I didn't rip anything. Thank you Lord Jesus. I like my loins the way they are, intact and not mangled by people coming out of them.

She came out and I shouted, "Thank you Jesus, it's over!!!!" I promise you, that is probably the best gift of natural childbirth: the second that baby emerges, the pain stops. Instantly. It is awesome. And of course, there is the baby!

Penelope got to stay in our room for over an hour before the nursery folks took her for measurements and a bath. I nursed her right away and spent the next moments kissing her tiny face and introducing myself to her. JD and I were the only ones in the delivery room and it was such a special time for us. We loved having the time afterwards to ooh and ahh over our newest baby girl, just the 2 of us. Soon everyone arrived and took turns holding her and congratulating us. We are blessed.

It has been a whirlwind few days. JD has been staying at home with Beatrice at night while I stay at the hospital alone with Penelope. They come during the day and stay with us, but I am so ready to be home with my big girl, the new big sister.

Penelope is my petite baby weighing in at 8 lbs 4 oz. She is 20 3/4" long. She is tiny and precious and wonderfully made.

Once again, recovery has been a breeze. I am pretty sore in the pelvic bone region, but my doctor says that is normal for second pregnancies. I had a lot of pain in my pelvic bone during the last 20 weeks of pregnancy so the pain is no real surprise, just unwanted. Otherwise, I feel great and happy and blessed. I love my babies.

Everyone keeps asking me if this birth was better or worse than my first. I can't really say. It was definitely quicker and I handled the pain so much better this time, but I didn't feel the same sense of accomplishment as I did after having Beatrice med-free. This time felt like less of a personal thing and more of a necessary process. Also, with Beatrice I relied so much on my faith and God's strength to get me through. I relied on Him in a different way with Penelope's birth. There was more faith in the fact that He would bring Penelope naturally without an induction than His ability to not let me die like I thought I would with Beatrice. I knew I would live this time, and thankfully, I did. And tomorrow I get to go home and live with 2 beautiful little girls and their wonderful daddy. Life is good and God is really, really great. Now if you'll excuse me, an itty bitty girl needs her milk for the bazillionth time tonight.

My Loins Trembleth

Friends are having babies around me left and right. For the most part, it makes me really excited to have my own squishy newborn to hold in a month. But with each birth story I hear, I become more and more terrified. You see, the thing with babies is they have to come out. Down there. And as much as I know that childbirth is necessary to bring forth the baby, it really hurts. Bad. Really, really bad. And I am starting to remember just how much pain is involved in birthing a human. My loins are trembling at the thought of life ripping through them yet again in less than 30 days. Mommy, hold me.


I had Beatrice med-free. It was the most prolific experience of my life to feel as though my body was crushing itself from within, drawing strength from God Almighty alone, and convincing myself that I would not die from the pain for the greater part of 2 days. It hurt. It felt impossible to accomplish without my faith in God. It left me trembling, but I did it. And looking back, I love my birth story. I love how I experienced raw pain and felt my body adjust and contort to allow for childbirth. Despite the intense pain, I plan to have all of my babies the same way. It is an experience I don't want to miss out on for any of my children. I want to experience every moment of my babies' precious births. Pain and all.

But.

It still scares the crap out of me. Hearing all of my friends recall their recent contractions and excruciating rings of fire as their babies crowned has me reliving Beatrice's birth all over again. I am dreading laboring. I am dreading feeling like I'm dying for days. Days, people! I definitely feel more prepared this time since I have been through it before, but it doesn't take the dread away from actually having to go through it again.

When I was a kid, I asked my mom why women had more than 1 baby if childbirth was so awful. She said that by the time you were ready for another child, you forgot how terrible the pain was when you had your first. I guess she was right because when JD and I were talking about having another baby last year, the first thing he asked me was if I was ready to go through all of that pain again. "What pain?" I said. "It wasn't that bad, honey." Apparently I forgot. Funny how he remembered and he didn't experience a single contraction... I guess that's how God intended it though. If women never forgot how badly their loins hurt with each baby's birth, no one would be up for round 2. Or 3, or 4. We'd all be a bunch of only children.

I keep drilling JD on our birth plan. "Do you remember how to be supportive, dear?" "Do you remember how to massage my back and dim the lights and reassure me that I'm not gonna die?" "Did you remember to line up Michael Bolton and all of the horses and the fire and chest hair?" Wouldn't having Michael Bolton serenade epic love ballads in the delivery room create the perfect ambiance? I think so. He assures me that he has remembered it all and that he is ready for Penelope's delivery, even if I'm not. I'm working on it though. I pray every night in great detail for the kind of birth experience that I want. I have dusted off some of the reading materials and Bible verses that gave me strength the first time around. I'm getting to a place of almost being prepared for the pain that is med-free childbirth. My loins however? Not so much.

Sometimes Love Takes Time

It's raining. Like cats and dogs raining. Beatrice is napping, JD is at work, and the cat is trying to make a nest in my lap but I can't be bothered with cuddles (and shedding fur) right now. Ahhhh solitude. It has been awhile since I felt this calm. And in control. I think I like it. This shall be my new mood. Disrupt it at your own risk.

I was not a calm pregnant person. I worried that I would lose the baby, I worried that JD wouldn't love me as much, I worried that I wouldn't love the baby enough. Or at all. We didn't plan to get pregnant right away. We had only been married 10 months and were still settling into the idea that this was for the rest of our lives. We thought we'd travel, buy a bigger house, save some money and enjoy being a couple for a few years. When a bad fight turned into a night of carefree passionate making up, I found myself sobbing in my office bathroom with 2 blue lines in front of me. Crap. We were having a baby. And I wasn't ready.

JD took the news great. He was excited and nervous and really supportive. Supportive, you say? Why would he need to be supportive? Well because I was a sobbing, hysterical mess. I kept muttering things like "I'm too young to have a baby, I'm a child having a child. How will we feed it?" He said "Honey, you're 26. Get a grip." But I never really got a grip. The whole pregnancy I kind of ignored the fact that in less than a year, I would be a mother to some helpless little person that deserved a better mother than me. I was in complete denial of how my life would change and how our marriage would change. Everything was pushed to the far corners of my mind.

As my belly grew, my denial changed a bit. I accepted that a baby was growing in there and that I had to birth it out, but the magnanimity of knowing that I would be a mother was still suppressed in my mind. I started praying that she would be healthy and grow up knowing the Lord. That she would be smart and kind and honest and meek. That JD and I would be good parents. That I would love her. I never admitted the last prayer to anyone because what kind of woman doesn't think she will love her own child? It's not that I didn't think I'd eventually love her, but the feeling of instant love that women talk about when they feel the baby kick for the first time never happened to me. I felt stunted in motherly love. Was it because we weren't planning to get pregnant? Why was I so freaked out about a sweet, precious baby? What is wrong with me???? Ugggh, just remembering that makes me feel sick. 


As my due date approached, everyone told me that I would instantly fall in love as soon as I held that baby. I would look into her eyes and this unbreakable bond would form and last forever. Great, I thought. Finally, I will feel normal and no one will know that I am a heartless, unloving freak. I had Beatrice and as soon as she popped out, JD and my mom sobbed tears of joy. She pooped in utero so the docs had to check her out before they brought her to me. I never cried. When they handed her to me I fumbled trying to hold and calm her. Nothing came naturally to me. I didn't feel nurturing or motherly at all. I felt the same.  The nurses wanted to bathe her so I eagerly gave the baby to them and felt the biggest dread come over me. I still didn't feel love for my baby. And I had to take her home in a day. And even bigger than that, I had to pretend that I wasn't completely freaking out in front of our family.

The next month was a blur of sobbing, feeling inadequate, and resenting myself for not being normal. Why did I not feel anything for my baby? I didn't hate her or wish she didn't exist, I was very grateful for her. I just didn't feel anything. I thought that all good mothers would instantly love their children and if they didn't, they weren't good mothers. I lived with this guilt for a month before I finally confided in JD and my best friend. I would have told someone sooner but I wasn't depressed and didn't want anyone suggesting that maybe I was. Also, I felt that I would be terribly judged. They were totally supportive and told me that I was normal. Being a new mother is exhausting and confusing and full of pressure to get it right. They told me to relax and enjoy my baby. Everything would happen naturally.

And it did. Once I admitted how I felt, I suddenly felt free to love her. Like I wasn't trying to hide my secret anymore. I always felt like she could see through me anyway so that added to my guilt. I also discovered many other new moms felt the same as me. Sometimes it takes time to bond with a baby. Even as I fell in love with her, I still never felt relaxed or calm about being a mother. Would I screw up her life? Would she hate me? Would I be a good example to her? I have always felt way under qualified for this role. But as she has grown and is a complete mommy's girl, I know that I have done all right. We are gonna make it. She is healthy and smart and loved.

Now I want 3 more kids, all girls. I can't wait to feel what a pregnancy full of excitement and anticipation is like instead of dread and fear. I also know that if I don't instantly fall in love with a new child, I am not a freak. I am a person doing the best that I can and wants to love the crap out of my kids. Just not in utero. Remembering all of the turmoil and angst that led up to this place of peace and confidence in my ability to love and mother makes me glad. Glad that I am not there anymore. Glad that I am normal. Whatever that may be. And glad that I am completely in love with my baby. Even if it took a little extra time.

The New (Used) Model

We leave for the beach a week from Friday. That means baby's first swimsuit, lots of sand in her diapers, tons of gear to remember to pack and our first family vacation. Hopefully we will avoid baby's first sunburn and baby's first road trip tantrum....

It also means my first time in a swimsuit postpartum. Oh the fright.

I actually don't hate my postpartum body. It's not all that different from before I got pregnant, gained 48 lbs, carried a baby to term and nursed for 6 months and counting (good genes I suppose). I was one of the lucky ones that never got a stretch mark or the dreaded muffin top that plagues most mommies (if you're starting to hate me, remember I gained 48 lbs. That's a 2nd grader).

What I love the most about my body is what it is capable of doing. I grew a human folks (well, God grew her. I just housed the equipment needed for His project). My body sustained life for 9 months, then birthed that life without any trauma to either of us and now continues to nourish her little body. And I have nothing to do with it (well, technically I do since it's my body but you know what I mean). That makes me love my postpartum body more than any abdominal definition I had prior to pregnancy ever could.

This new (used) body can do more on less sleep than my pre-baby body ever could, and still have energy left over. I stay amazed at this because I AM SO TIRED.

So with all of that in mind, I plan to don my swimsuit with the confidence that "I am wonderfully and fearfully made" Psalms 139:14. And hopefully encourage all mommies to embrace their new (used) bodies as well, whatever condition they may be in. Because no matter how much wear and tear they may have, we grow humans. And that is awesome.

The Day(s) I Became a Mommy

At the discovery of our surprise pregnancy, I submerged myself in preparation for the perfect, natural birthing experience. Much of that preparation included prayer. Since JD was not sold on the home birth I longed for, I accepted that I was going to give birth at the hands of professionals. I was petrified of having a hospital birth full of interventions so I just prayed that my experience would be more organic and less medical. After all, God designed our bodies for this. I was made to do this, and do it without modern medicine. My constant prayer was for God to allow this baby to come on her own, without intervention, and arriving healthily in mind and body.

Miserable and so tired of being a human incubator with no signs of labor in sight, I wept in the bathroom at my office on the last day of work. I begged God to put me into labor soon (please dear Lord don't make me carry this baby past my due date). I got myself together, said my goodbyes to colleagues and the working world, and headed to the final birthing class.

It was the hospital tour class so there was a lot of walking and bed disassembly demonstrations. By the time we made it back to the classroom, I was having some abdominal pain. Nothing terrible, but it was definitely uncomfortable. The RN teaching the class noticed me holding my breath (and belly) every 15 minutes or so and joked that the class may witness a birth sooner than later. My 39 week OB appointment was the next morning so I knew I would be given the specifics of my situation soon. The contractions kept JD and me up all night. I cried, panicking about the experience that was before me, scared of how our relationship would change, but mostly dreading the hospital and its staff.

Friday morning at the OB, I was told that I was in active labor and to stay home as long as I could stand it since I wasn't getting an epidural. I was told to come to the hospital when I could not stand the pain any longer and the contractions were 3 to 5 minutes apart.

I went back home with contractions coming regularly every 10 minutes. I walked the neighborhood 3 times, climbed my stairs repeatedly, and bounced on that birthing ball until I was dizzy in hopes of speeding things along. By nightfall, the contractions had stopped completely and I was by myself eating my farewell cake from my coworkers. I went to sleep secretly relieved, but hoping God hadn't forgotten about my tearful pleading in the bathroom at work.

Early Saturday morning, I woke up to the worst abdominal cramping I had ever experienced. I did not know what labor pains felt like so I assumed my cakefest was the culprit. I went to the bathroom to discover I had lost my mucous plug. I made the mistake of showing my husband. DO NOT SHOW YOUR HUSBANDS GROSS PREGNANCY STUFF, it haunts them. We both kind of panicked. I was hurting really badly and forgot all of the breathing techniques I had learned so I just sat in the bathroom, swaying back and forth and crying. Luckily, JD remembered the calming techniques and got me back in the bedroom. He timed the contractions while I cried until we decided to head up to the hospital.

We called my mom, who was acting as my novice doula (she has 2 home births under her belt), and she met us there. I walked in and got to pick my room (the purple one with a huge window). The nurses hooked me up to the monitor and checked my progress. I was dilated 3 cms and 80% effaced. With 7 more cms to go before I could deliver, I decided to go back to the house to clean, fold laundry, and forget about what was happening.

As soon as we got back to the house, the contractions came back ferociously. All I could do was lie on the couch (crying) and watch JD clean and fold laundry. We were probably at home for 5 hours when I hit the pain wall that convinced me I no longer wanted to have the natural childbirth I had prayed for, but instead wanted all the pain relieving drugs I could get. I got hysterical and called my OB for "hypothetical" medication options if I were to come back to the hospital. Knowing how intent I was on doing this naturally, she suggested I return to the hospital to check my progress. Off we went.

There is something very horrifying and wrong about being in active labor while riding in a car. As soon as we pulled out of our neighborhood, I lost my marbles on JD. I demanded he call an ambulance to transport me the rest of the way (we live 5 miles from the hospital). He calmly kept driving and calling our family while I wailed like a banshee in the passenger seat. This time, I had to be wheeled to labor and delivery in a wheelchair because I could no longer walk or stand through the contractions (it hurts that bad folks).

The nurses checked me and I was 6 cms and fully effaced. They assured me it wouldn't be long now. But I still wanted to discuss my pharmaceutical options..... I was told that in lieu of an epidural I could have Stadol, a narcotic that would take the edge off of the pain and make me drowsy (and make the baby drowsy). I said I needed to think about it so they went ahead and prepped me with a Hep lock. Well, they tried to prep me. My veins would not cooperate and 2 different nurses could not locate or secure a vein. It was as if God made them invisible so I had no option but to follow through with my/our plan.

So I laid in the bed, stiff as a board while my mom and JD talked and carried on like there wasn't a woman having a baby in the room. My rules were don't talk to me and don't touch me. Oh, and open the blinds so I can focus on the birds, and close the blinds because the light hurts my body, and draw me a picture of a cat so I can focus my energy away from the pain, and don't make me laugh, and Mom for the love of everything good, PLEASE move your chair away from me. Not too many unreasonable requests I don't think.

I had prepared Bible verses months in advance that I was going to meditate on when the pain was intense and in the final 2 hours, that is what I did. I wept and read those verses aloud. During contractions, I called out to God to not let me die! I said His Name so often I had to clarify with JD and my mom that I was not taking His Name in vain, but asking for His help. I'm sure those nurses thought I was crazy.

Every time the nurse checked me I asked how much longer. Each time was shorter than the time before and when they wheeled in the bassinet, I knew I was in the home stretch. The entire time though, I wanted the drugs (and if my mom or JD had left the room I would've made those nurses sneak them to me). Until that bassinet was brought in, then all I could think about was my precious baby and her perfect body that never knew an artificial substance in her entire existence. That's when I got serious about my plan again and getting her out naturally no matter what. The plan was always about her, I just didn't realize it until I saw the bassinet.

Things happened very quickly, my OB checked me, I was at 9 cms. She broke my water (the only intervention) and within minutes I was ready to push. Nothing is scarier than having the bottom of your bed dropped and 5 people telling you how to push out a baby. Breathe in through your nose, count to 10, crunch your abs, push through your bottom, exhale through your mouth and go! Um, I know 1 push and it's the kind that we all do in the bathroom with a newspaper... But I was determined to do my push until that baby was born because then, IT WOULD BE OVER! So I pushed 5 of my special pushes and at 6:47 pm on Halloween, Beatrice Claire was born. All 8 lbs and 12 oz of her perfect little body emerged and it was OVER!!!!

The pain was gone the instant that baby girl was born. I still had to deliver the placenta (we had the nurse show it to us and explain the parts, so gross), but that was nothing compared to the previous 48 hours. Beatrice was perfect and healthy. JD went with her to the nursery for her first bath while my girlfriends and family came to see me. I hadn't eaten anything since the cake the night before so I was thrilled when my mother in law brought fried chicken. I devoured that meal!

My recovery was a breeze. The nurses gave me a Motrin that night, but I never took another thing. I was up walking around right away, took a shower, nursed my baby, and felt great.

I am always so excited to share this story because I just love giving God props. I prayed for 8 months to not go past my due date (I gave birth 3 days before) and for Beatrice to come on her own time without having to be induced (she did). He had a perfect plan all along for me and our family. I am still amazed at how He answered even the small things that I asked for (like good nurses who supported my birth plan). I have leaned on Him during the loss of my dad and on my wedding day (and several days during my marriage), but never have I depended on Him moment by moment like I did on those 2 days. It has strengthened my walk in a big way. Heck, it has strengthened everything about me. I know how to rely on Him in a way I probably always should have in every situation.

Welcome to the world, sweet girl!