Home is where... (you finish this sentence).

My Home.  

Say those words to yourself, out loud, and tell me what comes to mind?  What do you think about?  

I think about my family... the loves of my life.  I think about comfort and peace and love. 

When I found out I was pregnant I hesitated before calling my OB.  I wasn't in a hurry to get a blood test confirmation because I was already 100% sure and I could pretty much pinpoint my due date so the only other thing was seeing my itty bitty on an ultra sound.  And I had plenty of time to do that.  Plus I started to question whether or not I was going to go my usual route of Dr./hospital birth. My Choice...  remember?  I sure did. 

Before I got pregnant I told myself that IF it were to happen again I would attempt a HVBAC, (Home Vaginal Birth After Cesarean) or Home Birth.  And there was a large part of me that never thought it would happen... oops!  ;)

The end of May fast approached and I figured no matter what my birthing plans would end up being I should at least go in and get checked.  So I called my OB and made an appt. to go in the 1st week of June.   I didn't mention my thoughts about potentially having a home birth and instead I made an appt. to go back a month later...  I was just letting things happen.   I was letting the decision be made for me and I wasn't changing things.  My husband was naturally opposed to the idea, but after everything positive that had happened in the past he was much more open to hearing my thoughts and feelings about it.  And he kept the door open to the idea.   

I wound up speaking with 2 of my girlfriends who I considered to be pros at home birthing and asked them for the names of the midwives who delivered their babies.   I decided I owed it to myself to at least go meet with them to get a better feeling before making a final decision.  And I wanted my husband to meet them as well.  I called their office to get some information and to make an appt. to come in and was told that I would have to sign an arbitration agreement if I decided to home birth with them.  Huh?  Really?  But I was told to never sign one of those...  hmmmmmm.  I casually said thank you and ended the conversation.

I couldn't get it out of my head...  Add to that the fact that I was extremely uncomfortable with the idea of leaving my OB.  He was my dr. for years and I trusted him implacably.  I didn't want to have that conversation with him...  I wasn't ready to "dump" him. So I went to my 2nd appt. and made a 3rd for the following month. 

I continued to speak with friends, soliciting advice, and after one conversation specifically where we talked about the arbitration agreement I realized that all I was doing was letting these so called "obstacles" just stand in my way of going for what I really wanted.  It was time for me to stand up once again and follow my gut.  My heart. I called the midwives office back, that day, and set the meeting for my husband and I to go in for a meet n' greet.  And it went off without a hitch.  They definitely sold me and somewhat sold my husband.  Enough for me to make an appt. for my next check up and to work up enough courage to call my OB to break the news.  I decided to have my baby at home.  My Home. 

Charmed, I'm Sure.

My 3rd pregnancy was...  different.  To say the least.  

I was sicker than ever and the word exhaustion took on a whole new meaning.  My feelings toward being pregnant drastically changed.  

Before this I actually considered becoming a surrogate I loved being pregnant so much.  That was a thought that quickly vanished once my nausea completely took over and I was so sick I could barely move.  And, as many of you mommies out there know, is not easy when you have 2 toddlers running around that you need to keep up with.  Most days it took every ounce of energy I could muster to just get out of bed. Thank god for my amazing and fabulous husband who got up almost every morning to start off our babies day with a healthy breakfast.  I literally had to force myself to eat to maintain any sort of strength and that was not an easy task.  Within the year prior to getting pregnant I became a vegetarian and with this pregnancy my food choices decreased even more.  Food grew to become my worst enemy and my body was literally running on fumes.  

My triumph of the day was getting my daughter to and from school and getting dinner on the table.  Thank goodness she only went 3 days/week.   I drank more coffee than I thought I should and it didn't help much at all.  I knew it was because I wasn't eating much of anything...  Cereal, peanut butter n' jelly sandwiches and mac n' cheese became my staples.  And on occasion as much as I'm ashamed to admit, I did resort to eating some meat.  My body craved it.  Ugh, gross.  So gross. 

Sleep was something that I no longer looked forward to.  My baby boy was still up often throughout the night and for the most part would only sleep if he was cuddled up right next to me.  Now, the majority of the time I would never mind cuddling with him, but when my belly began to grow and my discomfort levels rose the last thing I needed was an 18-month old toddler who liked to roll and kick in his sleep.  And then when he would finally fall asleep, after moving around and climbing all over me for literally hours, he landed right on top of my face.  Yep, his head would literally rest on my face and that's where he would try to fall asleep.  And this continued pretty much throughout my entire pregnancy.  The only changes were I began to move him off me when he was asleep and most of the time he stayed asleep.  And if I was feeling extra brave I would let my husband try to carry him back into his own room to put him back into his bed.  Ha, that never worked.  This was the way we slept, up until the night my baby was born.  

I also have to admit that my faith constantly wavered.  I found myself questioning a faith that I believed in so strongly.  Why would God give me this baby when I truly felt that I couldn't be ready?  Why was this happening?  I needed answers.  I needed reasons.  I needed clarification.  And I wasn't getting any of it.  Well, at least not during my pregnancy. 

I know I've pretty much bitched and complained this entire blog entry about how rough my pregnancy was, but at the end of it all I was happy.  I knew I had an itty bitty being growing in my belly and that alone was worth every moment of icky-ness I was feeling.  And after all those moments of questioning my faith and my abilities to take this on, I did convince myself that everything would work out.  How?  Ha...  who the hell knew.  Only time would tell.