I have been breastfeeding since Anna-Lee was born on June 28, 2005. Through two full term pregnancies. I tandem nursed for six months after Reese was born and for two months after Lucy was born. I've been through pump incompatibility resulting in recurrent plugged ducts, an 8 month battle with thrush (that caused a 1lb weight loss in Reese), and the normal pains of nursing while pregnant. None of these things ever made me think of stopping breastfeeding.
However, I'm in the midst of the most draining string of nursing troubles. Troubles that make me see why giving up is so tempting to so many moms. It started July 4th. I had mastitis. No big deal. It was on the left side, which is the side I rarely have problems with. But my immune system was weak, I'd had surgery 13 days before. I took garlic and felt better in a few days. A week and a half later, I had some gallbladder sttacks. They lasted a week. During that time I could hardly eat, which tanked my milk supply. So I was nursing a ton to get it back up. I got a plugged duct on the right side which caused another round of mastitis and a milk bleb. Which causes the duct behind it to keep plugging. It'll keep releasing then reforming. Even with taking lecithin, nursing on demand, heating packs, etc. We saw a breastfeeding doctor last week and the bleb had went away but returned last night.
I am getting so discouraged. I'm doing all the right things and none of it seems to be working. This is the first time I can see formula as tempting. Me, who has nursed two kids into toddlerhood. I won't go the formula route. But I'm considering giving up nursing on the right side. The pain is awful. Even worse is the relief I get when the bleb goes away, the duct unplugs, and all is well for a few days only to wake up with it starting all over again. I'm calling the doctor again tomorrow. And, if she thinks it will help, I will yet again make the 60 mile one way trip to see her. I am not giving up on breastfeeding. Not yet. I admit, if Lucy were older than 4 months, I would probably give it more consideration. Then again, breastfeeding hasn't been optional for our family since a few weeks after Anna-Lee was born. And my stubborn streak is a wide one. So if we were to give up, it would only be after one hell of a fight.
This battle does make me a lot more understanding of women who DO give up when faced with challenges. I'm lucky to be staying home right now and to have a supportive partner. If I were dealing with a demanding job, regular pumping, a husband who didn't share my strong opinions on breastfeeding importance, and a tribe of mamas who have helped make breastfeeding my norm, I probably wouldn't have nursed the older girls as long as I did or continue to fight through these blebs.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Getting beneath the surface
It's pretty fair to say that our lives have been pretty chicken-centric as of late. So, it makes sense that when trying to put my battle with ppa into words, the images coming to mind have to do with eggs.
Broken, cracked shells. An egg shell doesn't shatter. The shell breaks and cracks, while being held together by a thin, transparent membrane. My outer shell is cracking, too. My ability to hide my reality was forced upon me my.whole life. I was the only one not surprised by my parents' divorce. Because they hid the problems and acted happy around everyone else. I was told without words that I was expected to help protect the facade of the perfect nuclear family.
So I still hide problems. I feel like showing imperfections is weakness and makes me an imposition on others. I try to act like things are great.
Great. What a lie that word is! How many times do we say that we're doing great when the truth couldn't he further from that? I know I'm not the only one who is like this.
And now, with this facade, this shell, cracking away there's exposed vulnerability. This is new to me. Me, the girl who finished small talk while paying the hairdresser seconds after finding out her Pa had died. Who doesn't break in front of anyone. Who's pulled together, at least marginally so.
This affects me in ways I'm not used to. Which brings us to the inside of the egg. Two words that fit an egg and my nerves: fried and scrambled.
I am constantly on the verge of tears. Stress of any kind renders me incapable of handling even daily life. And I can't take excess noise. The baby crying, the girls playing loudly, dogs barking, tv. All can cause me to mentally shut down. Because I can't cope if there's noise around me. I start to get why they put people in padded rooms. Because one sounds really nice about now.
Most of my days are spent outside with the kids (where noise doesn't bother me as much) or in the house sending them to play in a different room. This doesn't make me proud, and I feel guilty for constantly shooing them away. I keep saying soon I'll feel better. But when is soon?
Broken, cracked shells. An egg shell doesn't shatter. The shell breaks and cracks, while being held together by a thin, transparent membrane. My outer shell is cracking, too. My ability to hide my reality was forced upon me my.whole life. I was the only one not surprised by my parents' divorce. Because they hid the problems and acted happy around everyone else. I was told without words that I was expected to help protect the facade of the perfect nuclear family.
So I still hide problems. I feel like showing imperfections is weakness and makes me an imposition on others. I try to act like things are great.
Great. What a lie that word is! How many times do we say that we're doing great when the truth couldn't he further from that? I know I'm not the only one who is like this.
And now, with this facade, this shell, cracking away there's exposed vulnerability. This is new to me. Me, the girl who finished small talk while paying the hairdresser seconds after finding out her Pa had died. Who doesn't break in front of anyone. Who's pulled together, at least marginally so.
This affects me in ways I'm not used to. Which brings us to the inside of the egg. Two words that fit an egg and my nerves: fried and scrambled.
I am constantly on the verge of tears. Stress of any kind renders me incapable of handling even daily life. And I can't take excess noise. The baby crying, the girls playing loudly, dogs barking, tv. All can cause me to mentally shut down. Because I can't cope if there's noise around me. I start to get why they put people in padded rooms. Because one sounds really nice about now.
Most of my days are spent outside with the kids (where noise doesn't bother me as much) or in the house sending them to play in a different room. This doesn't make me proud, and I feel guilty for constantly shooing them away. I keep saying soon I'll feel better. But when is soon?
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Postpartum Depression, Anxiety, and Family Planning
I've been battling postpartum anxiety again...which gives way to postpartum depression. I had this after R was born, too. Then I was in denial it was happening. I stopped taking the Zoloft I'd been prescribed, and acted like I was fine.
Except I wasn't. When R was 5 months old we moved into our house. Same town I've always lived in. I, the woman who never locks a door, would be awake all night worrying. It was just me and the girls home, K works overnight. Every tiny sound was lurking danger. If I dared fall asleep, my dreams were nightmares of people breaking in and doing horrible things to me and my children. So, I stayed up.
At the time, I had a part-time job. A job I loved, actually, full of people I loved seeing everyday. Every day I felt sane, that is. I called in more than anyone should. Not trying to slack off, but my anxiety was so bad at times that I had huge panic attacks just trying to get out of bed. I still feel bad about that.
This time I was trying to avoid PPD/A. I spend time outside for vitamin d. I'm taking fish oil and encapsulated placenta. It didn't work. I am not as bad as I was after R's birth. Which surprises me because I have family issues that I figured would be a catalyst for any anxiety issues.
This time, though, I feel like my kids are suffering more. I yell. A lot. They play in their toyroom without me a lot. because sometimes I just can't cope with the incessant talking and noise. I'm just not an engaged parent, and I get mat at them far more than they deserve. Apologies are an everyday occurrence around here.
Which has me questioning if we should consider more kids. I have said since we decided to have more than one that I want four kids. And K has agreed to four, but I know he feels 3 is a better number for us. I really don't feel done. But is it fair to my children to put them through this postpartum Hell again? I don't know. But the only kind of birth control that has ever worked for me isn't safe while breastfeeding...and my sleep isnt conducive to charting. Which has me at a loss.
I hate the idea of birth control (for me! No issues with it for anyone else...) anyway. I very much believe there is a plan for us all, so if I'm supposed to have another child, it'll happen. So what's the point? This is a very poor way of expressing what I'm trying to say, so I'll stop while I'm (somewhat) ahead.
I'm also considering looking for part-time work again. I would have to get a job where I could work on K's days off and days K2 (aka my non-bio little sister) would watch the girls. And find a bottle L will take. She didn't do too bad taking some from K2 on our trip, but has refused any K has tried to give her. I'm thinking a little extra money and a few hours a week away from the house would be good for me. In the past I've wanted jobs close to home. Now I'm liking the idea of a reasonable but decent commute. Just for some time alone with my.thoughts. Or the radio. Without interruption.
Again, I feel like I'm left with decisions to make, but no clue where to start.
Except I wasn't. When R was 5 months old we moved into our house. Same town I've always lived in. I, the woman who never locks a door, would be awake all night worrying. It was just me and the girls home, K works overnight. Every tiny sound was lurking danger. If I dared fall asleep, my dreams were nightmares of people breaking in and doing horrible things to me and my children. So, I stayed up.
At the time, I had a part-time job. A job I loved, actually, full of people I loved seeing everyday. Every day I felt sane, that is. I called in more than anyone should. Not trying to slack off, but my anxiety was so bad at times that I had huge panic attacks just trying to get out of bed. I still feel bad about that.
This time I was trying to avoid PPD/A. I spend time outside for vitamin d. I'm taking fish oil and encapsulated placenta. It didn't work. I am not as bad as I was after R's birth. Which surprises me because I have family issues that I figured would be a catalyst for any anxiety issues.
This time, though, I feel like my kids are suffering more. I yell. A lot. They play in their toyroom without me a lot. because sometimes I just can't cope with the incessant talking and noise. I'm just not an engaged parent, and I get mat at them far more than they deserve. Apologies are an everyday occurrence around here.
Which has me questioning if we should consider more kids. I have said since we decided to have more than one that I want four kids. And K has agreed to four, but I know he feels 3 is a better number for us. I really don't feel done. But is it fair to my children to put them through this postpartum Hell again? I don't know. But the only kind of birth control that has ever worked for me isn't safe while breastfeeding...and my sleep isnt conducive to charting. Which has me at a loss.
I hate the idea of birth control (for me! No issues with it for anyone else...) anyway. I very much believe there is a plan for us all, so if I'm supposed to have another child, it'll happen. So what's the point? This is a very poor way of expressing what I'm trying to say, so I'll stop while I'm (somewhat) ahead.
I'm also considering looking for part-time work again. I would have to get a job where I could work on K's days off and days K2 (aka my non-bio little sister) would watch the girls. And find a bottle L will take. She didn't do too bad taking some from K2 on our trip, but has refused any K has tried to give her. I'm thinking a little extra money and a few hours a week away from the house would be good for me. In the past I've wanted jobs close to home. Now I'm liking the idea of a reasonable but decent commute. Just for some time alone with my.thoughts. Or the radio. Without interruption.
Again, I feel like I'm left with decisions to make, but no clue where to start.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Summer is here.
Summer has meant heat, humidity, mosquito bites, trips to the zoo, walks, and The Park. We are boycotting the park by our house. Why, you ask? Well one week Reese fell off the ladder going up the slide and broke her leg. Of course this had happened when we walked there, and Reese hadn't rode in a stroller, trike, or wagon. We got home by her riding on my back in the Ergo. Thank God for babywearing!
The next week my husband sprained his wrist in the same park after a fall from his bike. Yes, this park is not a favorite place of ours. Reese just got her cast off two weeks ago, and the park will be avoided for another month or two until its completely healed.
Another big event happened two weeks ago. I had surgery to correct the nerve problems in my wrist. The decision to have this surgery is one that has been stewed over for months. But the pain was quickly and progressively getting worse. Obviously within 2 weeks its hard to tell how well it worked. But, besides incision pain, it seems to be a tiny sliver of what it once was. I'm praying it continues to heal well and that I wind up with a complete reversal of symptoms.
Now the summer is just about family. We spend time outside with the dogs and chickens (NOT at the same time!). We go to the zoo. We watch movies. It's very relaxing. Which is good. Anna-Lee turned 5 this summer and has decided to attend kindergarten. I want to enjoy every last minute with her before I lose her for the better part of the day. So bittersweet.
The next week my husband sprained his wrist in the same park after a fall from his bike. Yes, this park is not a favorite place of ours. Reese just got her cast off two weeks ago, and the park will be avoided for another month or two until its completely healed.
Another big event happened two weeks ago. I had surgery to correct the nerve problems in my wrist. The decision to have this surgery is one that has been stewed over for months. But the pain was quickly and progressively getting worse. Obviously within 2 weeks its hard to tell how well it worked. But, besides incision pain, it seems to be a tiny sliver of what it once was. I'm praying it continues to heal well and that I wind up with a complete reversal of symptoms.
Now the summer is just about family. We spend time outside with the dogs and chickens (NOT at the same time!). We go to the zoo. We watch movies. It's very relaxing. Which is good. Anna-Lee turned 5 this summer and has decided to attend kindergarten. I want to enjoy every last minute with her before I lose her for the better part of the day. So bittersweet.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Our Journey in Urban Homesteading begins...
I have often said I am a walking contradiction. This is true in many aspects of life, including where I want to live. I'm a farm girl trapped in a city girl's life. I want to live in the country...but I also want to be close to everything. A bustling metropolis isn't for me, but a smaller one is. I dream of having a small hobby farm one day, though. Living sustainably off of my own land.
In that mindset, I've teamed up with my reluctant but accomodating husband to create an urban homestead. The first project? Chickens! I've loved chickens since I was a kid and my great uncle let me play with baby chicks on his farm. And who can resist a fluffy chickie?
Turns out that urban chickens are gaining popularity. I was surprised to find entire web communities dedicated to backyard chickens. Last year many of the moms in our local babywearing group began discussing keeping chickens. I was interested, but looked on with envy, still dreaming.
Fast forward a year. After lots of convincing, begging, and pleading (yep, I'm an only child! lol) we decided to get chickens. Kelton and I agreed on 2. No fancy ones; he wanted normal chickens. I took my very excited 4 year old, and headed to the farm store. We got 2 Rhode Island Reds at our local farm store. Fluffy little chicks that took up residence in a cardboard box in our living room. One is still there. Sadly, Nugget was a rooster, and he's now living with my family in Oklahoma.
Twinkle is about 7 weeks old and almost completely covered in beautiful auburn feathers. She loves to sit with us, and go out in the yard after the dogs are in to scratch and search for bugs, leaves, and any other goodies she can find.
Now, one chicken doesn't do well on its own. Kelton tried telling me the rabbit and chicken could he great companions. But I wanted chickens for pets...and eggs. First eggs, but all animals are pets for me. I have too big a soft spot for critters. So I was on the search for more chicks. I was going to order 3 from online, but couldn't get the breeds I wanted within the next 2 weeks. And I am impatient. I decided to look for older pullets who were already laying or close to it.
I found 3 white leghorn hens on Craigslist about an hour from us. Already laying an egg a day each. At $10 a hen, it was the same price as ordering chicks...but no waiting for eggs. I drove down to get them yesterday. Ugly birds, but we got our first egg when we got home...waiting for us in the cardboard box.
Kelton is still working on the amazing coop he's building, so the hens are living in a doghouse in the shed right now. They are pretty skittish. And dirty! They were kept in a pretty old coop, and given the ridiculously long length of their nails, they weren't let out to scratch. I gave two of the three baths tonight.
They seemed to like their baths. First you dunk the hen in a container with water and castile soap and borax. Then a second bath in water (not knowing if they had any mites or fleas, I followed recommendations and added a splash of bleach...next time I'll use tto, but I'm out right now). Finally, a rinse bath in a water/vinegar mix. I was expecting a mess, but the skittish birds seemed calmed by the bath. They weren't "madder than an old, wet hen" at all! After the bath they got taken inside and blow dried. Their feathers were very matted, and this fluffed them up nicely. Those nails got trimmed, as did their wings. They are kind of pretty now! And the two bathed hens seem much calmer and accepting of people then the one that's still needing bathed. I hope they become friendly and fun birds. And call, so we can let them free range when we're outside. They seems quiet, which is great since we're outlaw chicken keepers!
I think our 4 chickens will be a great jumping off point to teach our girls about sustainable living and responsibility. Anna-Lee already has her pink egg basket to collect eggs in. Along with hang drying our clothes, and our six tomato plants we need to transplant into the ground, our little mini farm is coming along great! I can't wait to make a tomato omlet knowing exactly where it came from- our own backyard!
In that mindset, I've teamed up with my reluctant but accomodating husband to create an urban homestead. The first project? Chickens! I've loved chickens since I was a kid and my great uncle let me play with baby chicks on his farm. And who can resist a fluffy chickie?
Turns out that urban chickens are gaining popularity. I was surprised to find entire web communities dedicated to backyard chickens. Last year many of the moms in our local babywearing group began discussing keeping chickens. I was interested, but looked on with envy, still dreaming.
Fast forward a year. After lots of convincing, begging, and pleading (yep, I'm an only child! lol) we decided to get chickens. Kelton and I agreed on 2. No fancy ones; he wanted normal chickens. I took my very excited 4 year old, and headed to the farm store. We got 2 Rhode Island Reds at our local farm store. Fluffy little chicks that took up residence in a cardboard box in our living room. One is still there. Sadly, Nugget was a rooster, and he's now living with my family in Oklahoma.
Twinkle is about 7 weeks old and almost completely covered in beautiful auburn feathers. She loves to sit with us, and go out in the yard after the dogs are in to scratch and search for bugs, leaves, and any other goodies she can find.
Now, one chicken doesn't do well on its own. Kelton tried telling me the rabbit and chicken could he great companions. But I wanted chickens for pets...and eggs. First eggs, but all animals are pets for me. I have too big a soft spot for critters. So I was on the search for more chicks. I was going to order 3 from online, but couldn't get the breeds I wanted within the next 2 weeks. And I am impatient. I decided to look for older pullets who were already laying or close to it.
I found 3 white leghorn hens on Craigslist about an hour from us. Already laying an egg a day each. At $10 a hen, it was the same price as ordering chicks...but no waiting for eggs. I drove down to get them yesterday. Ugly birds, but we got our first egg when we got home...waiting for us in the cardboard box.
Kelton is still working on the amazing coop he's building, so the hens are living in a doghouse in the shed right now. They are pretty skittish. And dirty! They were kept in a pretty old coop, and given the ridiculously long length of their nails, they weren't let out to scratch. I gave two of the three baths tonight.
They seemed to like their baths. First you dunk the hen in a container with water and castile soap and borax. Then a second bath in water (not knowing if they had any mites or fleas, I followed recommendations and added a splash of bleach...next time I'll use tto, but I'm out right now). Finally, a rinse bath in a water/vinegar mix. I was expecting a mess, but the skittish birds seemed calmed by the bath. They weren't "madder than an old, wet hen" at all! After the bath they got taken inside and blow dried. Their feathers were very matted, and this fluffed them up nicely. Those nails got trimmed, as did their wings. They are kind of pretty now! And the two bathed hens seem much calmer and accepting of people then the one that's still needing bathed. I hope they become friendly and fun birds. And call, so we can let them free range when we're outside. They seems quiet, which is great since we're outlaw chicken keepers!
I think our 4 chickens will be a great jumping off point to teach our girls about sustainable living and responsibility. Anna-Lee already has her pink egg basket to collect eggs in. Along with hang drying our clothes, and our six tomato plants we need to transplant into the ground, our little mini farm is coming along great! I can't wait to make a tomato omlet knowing exactly where it came from- our own backyard!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Goals
I love making goals for myself. It gives me something to look forward to, and something to keep me driven. I love making lists with my goals. So that's what this post is about.
Short-term goals (within 3 months):
-Lose 20 pounds
-Become debt free, except mortgage and student loans
-Make morning devotionals with the girls (and hopefully DH) a habit
-Give up the evil soda in exchange for 1 morning coffee and then water and teas
-Add more local food to our diets (hopefully including eggs from the two chicks currently residing in my living room!)
-Make a workable budget
-Learn to knit
-Find a schedule/routine that works for the girls and I during the day
Six month goals:
-Learn to ride a bike
-Get a new kitchen table
-Take a nice family vacation (God willing, in the camper we're looking at!)
-Spend more time with my mom
-Find a home church we all like, and attend regularly
One year goals:
-Read the entire bible
-Have my wrist issues taken care of, by surgery or other means
-Make a concrete plan for massage school
-Run a 5k race
-Start saving for and purchase a zigo leader bicycle (since Lucy will be big enough to ride at this point)
Short-term goals (within 3 months):
-Lose 20 pounds
-Become debt free, except mortgage and student loans
-Make morning devotionals with the girls (and hopefully DH) a habit
-Give up the evil soda in exchange for 1 morning coffee and then water and teas
-Add more local food to our diets (hopefully including eggs from the two chicks currently residing in my living room!)
-Make a workable budget
-Learn to knit
-Find a schedule/routine that works for the girls and I during the day
Six month goals:
-Learn to ride a bike
-Get a new kitchen table
-Take a nice family vacation (God willing, in the camper we're looking at!)
-Spend more time with my mom
-Find a home church we all like, and attend regularly
One year goals:
-Read the entire bible
-Have my wrist issues taken care of, by surgery or other means
-Make a concrete plan for massage school
-Run a 5k race
-Start saving for and purchase a zigo leader bicycle (since Lucy will be big enough to ride at this point)
Saturday, May 8, 2010
The birth of Lucy Navene
Prodromal labor set in at the end of February, at 36 weeks pregnant. I'd have hours of hard contractions that would pitter out to nothing. I wasn't too concerned. My other pregnancies lasted 36 and 37 weeks. Nobody expected me to go past 38 weeks.
38 weeks came and went. And as irrational as it sounds, it was at this point where I started to feel like I'm guessing other women do when they go past 40 weeks. I know that worries about personal topics and childcare for the big girls wasn't helping my body relax and focus on birthing.
39 weeks passed. I tried acupuncture. Nothing but the continued prodromal labor. I was becoming severely sleep deprived. Contractions started after the big girls were in bed, and did let me sleep until just a couple hours before they woke up. I was cranky. The Clary Sage oil I was using helps balance emotions, but mine were strongly leaning to the "raging psycho" side.
We come to 39 weeks 5 days. I freak out yelling at the girls for being too loud, then break into hysterical sobbing for having done so. I scared Kelton. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. I'd stopped answering the phone days before, and pretty much limited all communication to Facebook. Because its easy to ignore.
I went back to the chiropractor and he did acupuncture again. This time with 12 points instead of 6. When I got home, I took a nap. Woke up for a bath. I wasn't angry, but was still very weepy. I told Kelton if the baby wasn't here by Friday I was getting induced or committed one. And I didn't care which.
I took some tylenol pm and the big girls and I headed to bed at 9:30. I woke at midnight and got up to eat. I decided to vacuum while I was up. Since the contractions I'd had when I woke up stopped, I went to bed at 3 fully convinced that I would be pregnant forever. I prayed and journaled my worries to get them out.
At 7:48 am I woke up with a strong, painful contraction. The big girls were asleep, so I got up and took a bath. The contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, and the bath didn't relax them. They were getting progressively stronger, but I was able to breathe through them easily.
At just before 8:30, Kelton got home from work. I told him I thought this was it and he called the midwife. I had him get the birth ball and rocked on it. Contractions were getting stronger and I began to vocalize through them.
The midwife checked my dialation when she arrived. Even though I know it means nothing as far as labor goes, I wanted to know where I was. 4cm. This made me happy because getting to 4cm seems to be the hardest part for me.
I had some more contractions while the midwife set things up in the bathroom by the tub. Reese had woken up, so Kelton was tending to her. The midwife's assistant arrived and got me some gatorade. After this, her and Kelton traded off tending to the girls in Anna-Lee's room.
I had to pee, and had 2 contractions while doing so. My vocalizations were different, and I could feel my cervix dialating during contractions. When I was done, the midwife asked to check me again. 5cm. I thought at least 45 minutes had passed, so I was disappointed. The midwife had her assistant get the tub ready with more hot water.
I got in the tub. I started to get contractions on top of one another. The midwife was reassuring me, putting wet washcloths on my neck and forehead. Kelton was also by the tub, and I know during one contraction I had him do really strong counter pressure. After the 3 hours of strong back labor with Reese, he knew to do it much harder than most people would think a girl my size could handle. I felt her turn anterior. And then I felt pushy. I asked to be checked, because I pushed when I wasn't ready to push with Reese, and it made recovery harder. I was 7cm! A lot of progress in very little time. Maybe 10 minutes.
Shortly after, I started screaming that I couldn't do it. And even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I felt relief. This was my standard transition moment. With Anna-Lee, I asked for an epidural. With Reese I said screw an unassisted homebirth, call the ambulance. This time I just said I was done.
Contractions slowed. They were less intense, and I groaned during them, pushing. In between the midwife put cool water on the back of my neck and Kelton gave me sips of gatorade. I talked to Lucy, telling her we could do this, that she was doing a good job, etc. As I pushed, I visualized her coming down the birth canal.
After 2 or 3 pushes, I felt the "Ring of Fire." And almost started laughing, as the Johnny Cash song began playing in my mind. I could feel her head with my hand. I kept waiting to feel the POP! of my water breaking. It was something I distinctly remembered from Reese's birth; that sound. I didn't hear it. Her head was out after that contraction. I could hear the midwife's assistant telling the girls the baby was almost here, and heard them in the hall giggling. It was a rejuvenating sound.
Another contraction came. I reach down while pushing and caught her as she slid into my hands. I tried to pull her up to me, but had difficulty. The midwife pointed to the cord around her neck. We both reach down and unlooped it. It was also under her arm and between her legs!
She was here! I couldn't believe it. After almost 40 weeks, I had my baby. The pregnancy was difficult. Whiplash, morning sickness, chronic sinus infections, 2 cases of the flu, a stomach virus,spd, and prodromal labor. I'd enjoyed the other pregnancies. I'd survived this one.
Lucy latched on pretty quickly, and her placenta came out quickly without effort. We got out of the tub and the midwife checked me. A small tear, nothing requiring repairs. Lucy was checked out and was, of course, perfectly fine. We settled in on the couch for rest and snuggles. Kelton got me a protein bar and beef jerky. That, along with a shot of floradix made me feel better.
She was born at 9:58 am on March 23. 6 pounds 13 ounces and 18.5 inches.
38 weeks came and went. And as irrational as it sounds, it was at this point where I started to feel like I'm guessing other women do when they go past 40 weeks. I know that worries about personal topics and childcare for the big girls wasn't helping my body relax and focus on birthing.
39 weeks passed. I tried acupuncture. Nothing but the continued prodromal labor. I was becoming severely sleep deprived. Contractions started after the big girls were in bed, and did let me sleep until just a couple hours before they woke up. I was cranky. The Clary Sage oil I was using helps balance emotions, but mine were strongly leaning to the "raging psycho" side.
We come to 39 weeks 5 days. I freak out yelling at the girls for being too loud, then break into hysterical sobbing for having done so. I scared Kelton. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. I'd stopped answering the phone days before, and pretty much limited all communication to Facebook. Because its easy to ignore.
I went back to the chiropractor and he did acupuncture again. This time with 12 points instead of 6. When I got home, I took a nap. Woke up for a bath. I wasn't angry, but was still very weepy. I told Kelton if the baby wasn't here by Friday I was getting induced or committed one. And I didn't care which.
I took some tylenol pm and the big girls and I headed to bed at 9:30. I woke at midnight and got up to eat. I decided to vacuum while I was up. Since the contractions I'd had when I woke up stopped, I went to bed at 3 fully convinced that I would be pregnant forever. I prayed and journaled my worries to get them out.
At 7:48 am I woke up with a strong, painful contraction. The big girls were asleep, so I got up and took a bath. The contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, and the bath didn't relax them. They were getting progressively stronger, but I was able to breathe through them easily.
At just before 8:30, Kelton got home from work. I told him I thought this was it and he called the midwife. I had him get the birth ball and rocked on it. Contractions were getting stronger and I began to vocalize through them.
The midwife checked my dialation when she arrived. Even though I know it means nothing as far as labor goes, I wanted to know where I was. 4cm. This made me happy because getting to 4cm seems to be the hardest part for me.
I had some more contractions while the midwife set things up in the bathroom by the tub. Reese had woken up, so Kelton was tending to her. The midwife's assistant arrived and got me some gatorade. After this, her and Kelton traded off tending to the girls in Anna-Lee's room.
I had to pee, and had 2 contractions while doing so. My vocalizations were different, and I could feel my cervix dialating during contractions. When I was done, the midwife asked to check me again. 5cm. I thought at least 45 minutes had passed, so I was disappointed. The midwife had her assistant get the tub ready with more hot water.
I got in the tub. I started to get contractions on top of one another. The midwife was reassuring me, putting wet washcloths on my neck and forehead. Kelton was also by the tub, and I know during one contraction I had him do really strong counter pressure. After the 3 hours of strong back labor with Reese, he knew to do it much harder than most people would think a girl my size could handle. I felt her turn anterior. And then I felt pushy. I asked to be checked, because I pushed when I wasn't ready to push with Reese, and it made recovery harder. I was 7cm! A lot of progress in very little time. Maybe 10 minutes.
Shortly after, I started screaming that I couldn't do it. And even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I felt relief. This was my standard transition moment. With Anna-Lee, I asked for an epidural. With Reese I said screw an unassisted homebirth, call the ambulance. This time I just said I was done.
Contractions slowed. They were less intense, and I groaned during them, pushing. In between the midwife put cool water on the back of my neck and Kelton gave me sips of gatorade. I talked to Lucy, telling her we could do this, that she was doing a good job, etc. As I pushed, I visualized her coming down the birth canal.
After 2 or 3 pushes, I felt the "Ring of Fire." And almost started laughing, as the Johnny Cash song began playing in my mind. I could feel her head with my hand. I kept waiting to feel the POP! of my water breaking. It was something I distinctly remembered from Reese's birth; that sound. I didn't hear it. Her head was out after that contraction. I could hear the midwife's assistant telling the girls the baby was almost here, and heard them in the hall giggling. It was a rejuvenating sound.
Another contraction came. I reach down while pushing and caught her as she slid into my hands. I tried to pull her up to me, but had difficulty. The midwife pointed to the cord around her neck. We both reach down and unlooped it. It was also under her arm and between her legs!
She was here! I couldn't believe it. After almost 40 weeks, I had my baby. The pregnancy was difficult. Whiplash, morning sickness, chronic sinus infections, 2 cases of the flu, a stomach virus,spd, and prodromal labor. I'd enjoyed the other pregnancies. I'd survived this one.
Lucy latched on pretty quickly, and her placenta came out quickly without effort. We got out of the tub and the midwife checked me. A small tear, nothing requiring repairs. Lucy was checked out and was, of course, perfectly fine. We settled in on the couch for rest and snuggles. Kelton got me a protein bar and beef jerky. That, along with a shot of floradix made me feel better.
She was born at 9:58 am on March 23. 6 pounds 13 ounces and 18.5 inches.
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