Birth of the Walnut Part 2

So, my estimated due date with this baby was the 16th.  I was betting on the 30th.  The Tyke had come so late that I just sortof figured that, left to my own devices, that's when my babies come.  With the Pudding, we had pushed things along so I figured that her birth would have happened a week or two later if we hadn't done all that.  Well, who knows.
Anyway, the morning of the 16th dawns nice and sunny and I start having contractions.  They are about 10 minutes apart but pretty consistent.  I putter around the house, hang out with the kids, etc. I talk to the midwives and let them know what's up.  I send the kids to my friends house so that they can have some fun and Dilbert and I have some fun hanging out together.  Around three we call Tara, our doula, to come.  She was with us at the Tykes birth and was fabulous.  She gets there and I decide that I'm getting tired of this half-assed labor, lets kick this in gear.  So, I have Dilbert make me a peach and castor oil smoothy, funny enough, it's not as good as it sounds.
I choked that down and things do pick up a little.  The midwives come out and check me and I'm at 3cm! They set things up for a birth that night and then go because another mama is in labor and moving quicker than I am.  We putter around some more.  We had fun, Tara, Dilbert and I just hanging out together.  I sat on the ball for a while and would sway through every contraction.  They were the real thing but they didn't seem to go anywhere.  Finally around 11:30 that night, everything just went away.  I drank about 2 ounces of wine and went to sleep.
The next morning was a Tuesday and I went to my regular book club/Bible study at church.  I was mad as a hornet.  I had labored all day yesterday and now was walking around, still dilated to 3cm but still very much pregnant.  My ankles were swollen, I couldn't fit into normal shoes, my back ached, my pelvis ached, I was not in a happy place.  I made mention of this to a friend of mine at the study, who also happens to be a nurse.  She seemed to think that this stall in labor meant that something could be wrong but honestly, that had never occured to me before.  I was irritated, yes.  But I wasn't worried about the birth.
When I say I wasn't worried about the birth, that's not exactly accurate.  I felt about the birth the way I imagine athletes view some incredibly difficult, painful and life altering event that they are excited to do but will be happy to have behind them.  Birth makes a better memory than experience. But I wouldn't trade that memory for anything.
The rest of that week was pretty quiet.  Thursday night Dilbert and I tried a little labor encouragement that seemed to work.  I started having contractions about 10 minutes apart again.  They weren't very intense so I went to sleep.
When I woke up, they kept on coming.  Sometimes they would be tough, and I'd have to stop and pay attention to them.  Other times I didn't even pause.  At about 2, I dropped the kids off at a friends house where they could play while I went to my midwife appointment.  As I was driving the kids there I gradually started to think that maybe this could be the real thing.  The contractions were more intense when I was in the car and I really did have to pay attention to them so it made  the drive pretty interesting.
Dilbert drove me to my appointment and started making noises about how nice the birth center was and maybe I should just have the baby there.  He's right, the birth center is very nice and I could totally see why someone would want to have a baby there.  The bathtubs are enormous! But I really wanted to be at home.  The midwife checked me again and said I was dilated to 4cm now.  After 4cm you're considered in active labor.  Because it was now about 6 and the route home was a parking lot we decided to have dinner near the birth center, that way if things picked up quickly, we could at least get there to have the baby.  We went to this nice Thai restaurant and I squeezed Dilberts hand through the contractions.  Then we walked around the shopping center for a while.  I was having to stop every few stores to wait for a contraction to pass.  Now it was close to 7 and the roads had cleared up a little so we could make it home quickly without risk of birthing in a car.  We went home and called Tara and started to get ready.
Things were still set up from Monday night when we'd had a false alarm so all I had to do was get some water and go hang out in my room.  My friend dropped off my kids and Karla came over to be with them if they wanted to be at the birth.
At 8 we put the kids to bed and between contractions I did our usual good night song with the kids.

Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday,

We love you

Happy Birthday and may all your

dreams come true.

When you blow out the candles

one light stays aglow.

It's the love light in your eyes

where ere you go.

The Pudding came home from preschool with this song and loved it and was always asking for it so we sang it to her and the Tyke every night.  It was kindof our thing.

After the kids were in bed, things started getting more serious.  I kept saying things like "I really want to be pushing, I just want to push this baby out, I feel so much pressure, I really want to be done with this!" Between every contraction I sat on the edge of the bed, then when one would start I'd stand up and bury my face in my husbands chest and moan.  I'd bend my knees a little and sway my hips.  It wasn't a pretty dance, but it was mine.  Apparently it was during this stage that I bit Dilbert a couple of times.  As I came out of a contraction  I realized that I was about to bite him and stopped and apologized.  Dilbert said it was no big deal, I'd already done it a couple of times and that it was his fault "for getting anywhere near your mouth." He a good man.

I'd used a birth stool at the Tykes birth and wanted to do that again but the second I sat down on the birth stool it felt all wrong.  I made it through one intense contraction there and popped up as quickly as an enormously pregnant and laboring woman can pop with a baby's head engaged in her pelvis. I started to get a little panicy now because my plan had been to push on the stool and now I didn't want to do that but I didn't want to do anything else either.  I felt like maybe it would be good to lean forward so I decided to try getting on my hands and knees.

I crawled up on the bed and almost immediately a contraction hit.  I felt the baby's head slide down under my pubic bone.  I've had three previous births and never felt that, it was the strangest thing.  It didn't really hurt, other things did but not that specifically, it just felt very strange and I suddenly couldn't move to change positions anymore. 

I lost my ever-lovin mind after that.  Tara tried to prop up some pillows to support my upper body and I threw them at Dilbert.  I cursed a little and told Tara that she was lying to me when she said I was doing great.  What I think I said was, "You and I both know that's just what you say at this stage, it's total bullshit!" or something to that effect.  This baby felt huge and I could feel it coming, the pressure was huge!

The actual order of events gets a little fuzzy for me here.  I felt all this pressure but not a strong urge to push. I really wanted to push but I didn't feel the, "I'm pushing now and I can't help it!" urge that I had with Ike.  Kim told me to try pushing as I felt like it so with the next contraction I did and lost my mind.  Apparently what was going on behind me was this.  Baby had their arm wrapped around their face and was patting their opposite shoulder so that great big head and elbow were all trying to come through at the same time.  With my first big push, Kim figured this out and went very hands off.  She said that the baby would need to spin to get all that through and the less she did right then the better.  She did keep putting the warm wet clothes on my bum which at the time were the best things in the world.  I never knew such a thing could be so awesome.

Anyway, while I waited for the next contraction and complained that I had a baby wedged in a very uncomfortable place, baby decided they had been there long enough as well and started to spin.  I felt baby spin and as they did, I finally go the urge to push and push I did.  Baby's head popped out with a sort of spinning "ta-da" motion as their arm was released from its awkward position and they started screaming right away.  I pushed without a contraction and got the rest of baby's body out but it seemed to take too long because I said as they were coming I said, "Oh baby, get out!". 

Kim slid baby between my knees and under my chest (remember I was on my hands and knees) and I got my first glimpse of my screaming baby GIRL! We touched her puffy little face and her soft little head.  Dilbert and I couldn't look away!  She just screamed.  We picked her up and I sat propped against the head board and caressed every beautiful little chubby extremity, and she screamed.  Dilbert went and woke the other kids and brought them in, and she kept screaming.  The Tyke was too sleepy for all this crazy, so he immediately went back to bed, and the baby kept screaming. The Pudding was excited to have a baby sister and we realized that they both ended up with the same birthday.  Baby girl was born just after midnight on the Pudding's 6th birthday!  Awesome! The baby kept screaming...

Around this time Kim told me to sing the song, the happy birthday song I'd been singing to the kids every night.  I did and a miracle happened.  Baby girl stopped screaming.  She nestled in and latched on like a hoover and nursed herself into a coma.  It was beautiful.  

I told Dilbert that with the disapproving look that she gave the world, her face reminded me of a walnut so that is now her blog name.  Her real name is totally different.

Around this time the Tyke realized he was missing out on the fun so he got back up, went down to his toy box in the basement and found his doctor kit.  His grandparents got him these little toy doctor tools and coat for Christmas so he found those, came upstairs and asked for help in putting the coat on so he could "check out the baby."  We weren't really sure where those toys had been so one of the midwives let him check her out instead.  It was really the sweetest thing.  

Kim checked out the baby with her real stethoscope and verious other stuff and then came time for the weigh in.  Someone guessed 8lbs 10 oz.  Someone else guessed over 10lbs.  Now that she was out I was hoping for a big number just to acknowledge the effort I'd just given.  They put her in the little fish scale and she came up at 9lbs 11oz, just exactly 1 ounce more than her brother had been.  She was one inch taller as well, measuring 22 inches long.  

After that things started to calm down.  The Walnut was dressed and went to sleep after nursing some more, I took a shower to get all the birth off me and the kids went back to bed and were able to sleep despite their excitement.  Dilbert called his parents and mine, my mom found a flight and his parents made plans to drive down early in the morning.  But for the night we were tucked in to bed to just enjoy this beautiful little Walnut.

Well, now my little Walnut is 10 months old.  She still likes the Happy Birthday song and still gives strangers the stink eye when she doesn't like the look of them. She's crazy tall for her age and crawls all over like a bug.  She is worth every heartache and tear shed and worry and ache and pain that it took to get her here and I'm so glad she's with us.

Birth of the Walnut Part 1

I know, I know, I've been away from this little blog of mine for a while.  If you only know me here, you didn't even know I was knocked up again and here I am telling you about a birth that happened 10 months ago.  Crazy right?
Well, I've been a little busy.  We've been homeschooling, the Tyke is in preschool now, my list of activities for the kids has expanded far faster than I thought possible and I still haven't figured out how to clone myself.  What can you do?
In August 2011, on the first day of vacation in Gloucester, MA with Dilberts entire family, we found out we were expecting again.  Dilbert wouldn't let me tell anyone even when people raised eyebrows when I refused wine.  We were both pretty happy to be pregnant again but there was that seed of doubt and fear in the back of my mind that just wouldn't let me fully enjoy that moment.
Fast forward about 10 weeks and I was just starting to look at my maternity clothes with longing.  On a Saturday afternoon we'd decided to go play with the emotions of Realtors by checking out model homes.  Everybody need a hobby, this is one of ours. We checked out quite a few of them and I found myself feeling really tired and kind of achy and campy   When we pulled into our driveway I had that feeling, like you don't really know whats going on by you really need to be in the bathroom NOW.
I got to the bathroom and realized I was spotting pretty heavily.  I started sobbing and yelling at God almost immediately.  I kept saying, "No, you can't take this one, I get to keep this on." over and over. I called to the Pudding and told her to get Dilbert.  She couldn't help but see some blood and still remembers it to this day (nearly 2 years ago as I write this). She got Dilbert and he brought my phone so I could call the midwives.  Kim talked me down off the ceiling and told me to get myself to the ER to get things checked out for my own peace of mind.
We got to the ER and got checked in and I have to do the whole "Explaining the legality of Midwifery and no, I'm really not in the care of an OB/Gyn" thing to the ER docs.  They then give me an IV, I still don't understand why that one was necessary.  About an hour after we got there, I'm finally wheeled back for an ultrasound where I'm told that everything looks fine but I have placenta previa which means that the placenta is lying over the opening to the cervix.  The placenta is this very bloody organ and it is most likely that a small clot simply passed through the cervix and that is what caused the spotting.  Previa at this stage of pregnancy isn't all that uncommon and it usually resolves itself during the second trimester which I was just about to enter.
We delayed announcing things to our Church or anyone else for another week.  We had a 12 week ultrasound and I grilled the tech on normalness of this baby's head and made her go back again and again to check it.
I really didn't want to have the ultrasound just to check things out but this was a concession to Dilbert.  I really felt that my biggest problem with Joel's pregnancy was the knowing.  If I hadn't known that he wouldn't survive, I would have had a happy pregnancy and when he started to come, we would have dealt with the grief then.  I felt like the early knowing ruined the rest of the time I had with him because I had to make that choice, I didn't ever want to make a choice like that again.  This may not make sense, my husband doesn't understand it, but perhaps I'll elaborate on that one later.
So, we've now had two ultrasounds, the one in the ER and the regular one, both telling us that this baby is as OK as they can tell.  We were now at about 14 weeks and it was time to tell everyone else about it.  As I recall, we sent out a very brief mass email and posted the text of the same email on Facebook. We were both happy to be expecting but afraid for the challenges ahead.

One of those moments

I know I haven't posted in forever and there is probably a lot to catch up on but I just have to put this out there before I forget it and get lost in the drudge work that is motherhood.

Today we had a moment.

If you're a mom you know how rare those moments can be. The kind of moment where you feel like you and your children are in exactly the right place and the right time and you've made all the right decision to get them into that place and they are going to be better people for having been there with you and will look at it years later with joy in their hearts that you were able to give them that one perfect moment. Well, maybe that's all a little much to fit into one moment but that's how good it felt at the time. Let me explain our moment and perhaps you'll understand.

The Tyke woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. He was cranky and fussy and went into a tailspin over the slightest thing (I unbuttoned his jammy shirt when he wanted to unbutton his jammy shirt, we didn't have the breakfast he wanted, I didn't wipe the spilled yogurt up quickly enough and he got it on his hands, etc, ad nauseum). By about 9 I was ready to throw him out the window but thought a snuggle on the couch would be more productive at calming him down and pressing the reset button on the whole day. I told him to go upstairs and get his wooly (the wool baby blanket I made him when he was a baby) and we settled onto the couch together, him cuddled around the big belly and me surreptitiously reading my kindle over his head.

This made the Pudding mad. She'd been good all morning but was she getting any attention, NO! If being naughty was what it took to get a snuggle around here that's just what she'd be. You can imagine the rest. I finally sent her up to her room because I didn't want to reward the jealous behavior.

Once I had Ike settled and felt like he was well on his way to reset I went up and cuddled with Pudding for a while. We talked about why mommy needed some time with the Tyke that morning and that it didn't mean that I loved the Pudding less, it just meant that the Tyke needed more at that moment. After a while of this she got over the "I wish he'd never been born!" stuff and asked if he could come and snuggle with us. We called the Tyke upstairs and he crawled in with us and wonder of wonders they lay together and didn't wrestle or fight, they just cuddled with each other and with me. We pet the can, we pet each other, they chatted and for that one blissful moment, we just loved on each other. This was at about 10:30 am, the breakfast dishes weren't done yet, we'd done no school work, the shopping needed to be done and laundry was waiting but for once I'm glad I ignored it all and just attended to my children's emotional needs at that moment.

Be Particular

Several years ago I was walking around in a book store and spotted a book with what looked like several drag queens on the cover. Upon closer inspection I realized that they were simply fantastically dressed women wearing towering red wigs, sequinned dressed and majorette boots. The book was called "The Sweet Potato Queen's Book of Love" by Jill Connor Brown and it's a hoot. She gives several rules to live by in order to make your own life fabulous to the point where it feels totally ok to dress up as previously described. I'm still working on that one.

One of the rules came to me today and made me think of that long ago discarded book. Be Particular. This rule applies to nearly everything in life and I'm incredibly glad I followed it in my choice of midwives for this last pregnancy.

Before we were pregnant with Joel, I checked out a few other options for our birth because we weren't sure we could afford to pay for another homebirth. I went to look at some midwives that practice in a hospital and you can read about my reaction to them here. For those too lazy to follow the link, I didn't like them. They didn't feel personal to me, they didn't greet me with a hug and a cup of tea. But I'm so glad that they didn't because it meant that when everything went south with that pregnancy, I was surrounded by midwives who did greet me with a hug and who knew me and loved me and came with me on the hardest day of my life not as a paid midwife, but just as a friend. She was right there making sure that I had the best care possible and avoided the pain and trauma that was always chasing me. She sat with me while we made our decisions with no judgement, only sympathy. She was the one steadying my hand so I could hold my baby for the first and only time.

I am so grateful I didn't do the financially responsible thing in this case and go with the midwives that our insurance would pay for but who would have dropped me like a hot potato at the first sign of trouble. They would have said "I'm so sorry" just like everyone else does and that would have been nice but then Dilbert and I would have been left alone to transverse the world of high risk obstetrics without an educated guide and friend. I'm so glad that I refused to settle for care that would be good enough and insisted on seeing someone better.
It's important to be particular.

I'm a little more fine

Today is not a good day but it's not bad either. The kids have fought and squealed at each other most of the morning but one of them is napping now and the other is coloring robins upstairs. I'm not the basket case I've been for most of the last few months. I'm not saying I'm better yet but I feel like I've at least achieved some equilibrium again.
Part of the reason for this has been my counselor. She's pretty great. I've only seen her twice so far but just talking about all the stuff that's swirling around in my head seems to help. I've talked to my husband about all this stuff before but somehow it's different with an objective party. She hasn't heard it all before. She didn't live through it. Anyway, it helps. I'm sortof wishing I'd done it sooner.
Another reason I think I'm doing better is that Dilbert and I got away last weekend. We left the kids with my aunt and uncle and stayed at a hotel. You all don't need to know about most of that weekend but we did have the time to really open the flood gates. All the feelings and sadness that we'd been holding back because we're busy or the kids need us or we have to work in the morning was able to be put out there on the table and dealt with. I realized that I'd been assuming the worst of him and he'd been frustrated with me for not being better. Before you all jump all over him for that one you should know that he didn't want to feel this way, but feelings happen weather we want them too or not and this was one that was hard to hear but I'm glad he shared it.
When we left, I promised to give him the benefit of the doubt and he promised to be more patient with me. So far so good. We feel like we're back on the same team again.

I'm fine

"I'm fine." That's what I tell everyone. I almost am sometimes. I can get up in the morning (as well as I ever did) and feed my children and get them to soccer and ballet and sing in the band at Church and do all the things that need doing. I can function.
But not terribly well. My temper is shorter than usual and it was never all that long. I don't play with my kids like I used to and I don't go outside if I can help it. I have rare moments of higher function but I'm not what I used to be. My moods swing like a 13 year olds and I'm just as irrational sometimes.
But worst of all, I don't sleep. I'm writing this at 2:30 this morning because I hate going to bed. I feel like slowing down and stopping for the day is a scary prospect. It takes me forever to fall asleep and for that whole time I have nothing to do but let my mind wander where it will and it always goes to the same place. Joel.
Mother's Day was particularly difficult. I had yet more opportunities to cry in public. I kept thinking "there should be three, I'm supposed to have three." All the songs about faith and drawing strength from the Lord just seemed false to me that day because I didn't feel faithful and I didn't feel strength coming from anywhere.
Mother's day was also confirmation Sunday in our church. All these kids were there making the decision to join the church, follow Jesus and give their lives to Him. The Pastors said prayers over each of them while they were surrounded by their family and mentors. It was beautiful and I cried my eyes out through the whole thing because one of my children will never be given the chance to choose that. His journey is already over and I know that he's with Jesus but he never had the chance to choose and I never had the chance to teach him the way he should go and I'm furious about that.
So I keep avoiding my husband because he needs me to be OK and I don't feel that way yet. I keep yelling at my kids because they are kids and act accordingly. I keep staying up too late because it's easier to distract myself with the lights on. I keep telling everyone I'm fine though I know its not true.

The bottom of the trench

Since this little exercise in navel gazing known as my blog is called in the trenches, I thought I'd use the metaphor a little more tonight.
I am currently residing at the bottom of the trench which, if any of the movies and books I've read about war are to be believed, is where most of the crap and vermin reside.
It's not even that today was all that bad, I just felt badly. I had no excuse for it, the sad just showed up and stayed with me all day. I cleaned my kitchen, fed my children, worked on some sewing, read a book, ate some chocolate, all in an attempt to rid myself of the sad but nothing worked.
By the time Dilbert called me from his car as it sped toward home I was a well concealed wreck. He asked me if I wanted to meet him with the kids at our local gun shop, otherwise known as his happy place. He's been wanting to get one for me for a while now and thanks to the joy of the tax refund and our two little deductions, we sortof have the money for it at the moment. I'm not terribly jazzed about it but I'm not against the idea either so I agreed to meet him and just keep the sad pushed down for the others present.
Then I tried to get the kids ready to leave the house.
They'd gone outside that day but they hadn't actually had any shoes on and Pudding was wearing a shirt that was way too small for her and had to be changed. And Pudding didn't want to change the shirt, then she didn't want to wear those socks, then she didn't want to wear any socks and why couldn't she just go barefoot and why did we have to go anyway and on and on and on. I called Dilbert and told him the outing was off.
Normally I have no issues with stuffing either of my children into the required clothing and frog marching them out the door but today was not a day that I wanted to yell at my children. I don't ever really want to yell at them but today was a day where I didn't have the energy and the will to do battle with them. All my mental energy was used up today in keeping the sad contained and I just didn't have any left over. I felt like I was looking up at the looming battle from the bottom of my little trench and what I needed to do right then was keep myself from drowning, not fight. Survive and live to fight another day.