Downhill Battle.

These past few months have been rough, to say the least.  An emotional, mental and physical roller coaster that just wouldn't stop. There have been many a nights when I sat down in front of the computer and thought, "I need to update my blog" and then I thought, "but I am feeling down and tired and don't have a whole heck of a lot of positivity to express" and so I opted out of the updating and shut it down.  Tonight wasn't much different, except to say that I am slowly, but surely coming out of the downward spiral that I felt would consume me entirely at one point.  

My original reason for starting this blog was to take you all along with me on my journey to becoming a mama and while the joyous, loving, 'happy' moments are in abundance I have had my share of tough days.  I was just careful not to express those as often or at all.  

Lately, my children have needed me to really step up and become an advocate for them. I had to stand up and make people take notice.  I had to make myself be heard, and teach my children that they too, have a voice.  And a powerful one at that.

So here I sit tonight...  thinking about this mountain I've been climbing and how, rather than falling, I continue to move forward.  My children walk beside me, knowing that if they fall I will hold my hand out for them, but I will not carry them because the victory of reaching the peak needs to be theirs.  The climb gets steeper and more difficult, but we have our sights set on the top.  Which is finally in view. And then... it's all downhill from there.  

Reflecting... Starting a new.

My babies are growing at, what I feel is, lightening speed.  My baby girl is 5 and my boys are now 3 1/2  and 1 1/2.  Crazy.

This rapid pace of life has caused me to reflect on the past 5 years and in the midst of feeling like I was failing because I wasn't doing a good job at "enjoying every moment" I came across a blog, written by a mom, that talked about how it's perfectly ok and actually expected that I don't enjoy every moment.  A crying or tantrum-ing child is not enjoyable.  Waking up all hours of the night and getting little to no sleep is not enjoyable.  But consoling and reassuring my children is.  

It was an effortless read that gave me the validation I needed at the very moment I needed it.  And with that I was able to I stop doubting myself and questioning whether or not I was doing this whole motherhood thing right. For the rest of the day, at least.  ;)

Simple truth is being a mommy is hard and keeping up with my 3 energetic trouble makers has its challenges.  I've always prided myself on loving a challenge and coming out with my head above water, but for a while there I was so full of doubt my head was spinning. I guess you could say I was drowning in it.  So I decided to update this blog to reflect my trials, tribulations and revelations. 

For me there's no better outlet than writing it down, reading it back and if negative, releasing it and moving on. 

And so, if you want...

 

just follow us.

"Three Is a Magic Number"

Ok, whom out there is familiar with the song from Schoolhouse Rock?  It's a favorite in our household and was pretty fitting, I thought, for the title of my next blog entry.   

I am often asked by people if I am "done" having children.  And as much as I've given short, indecisive answers here or there in the back of my mind I'm thinking, "what does that even mean?"  I never really liked the word, "done".  It's feels so... final.  

From the beginning and after I got pregnant with my daughter I told myself that I was "done" taking any kind of birth control and if we got pregnant on our own, it was meant to be.  And we did.  Twice.  Sooner than I thought it would happen and even sooner than I was "ready" for it to happen, but the moment my babies were born none of that mattered.  My heart automatically grew and the overall love in my home multiplied.  My 3 little miracles have helped to make me the person I am today.  My daughter is my strong survivor.  I call her that because of her invisible twin.  She is smart, creative, beautiful, loving and is already a little protector of her younger brothers.  She has such a caring and compassionate heart and I just love watching her grow.  My son is my challenge.  And I say that with the utmost endearment.  I love that boy more than anything in the world and his strong personality that challenges me everyday also makes me love him more and more.  He stands up for what he wants and makes his views known.  I never want him to lose that inner fire.  He is my little music lover and never passes up an opportunity to dance and sing along.  My baby boy is trying his best to keep up with his older siblings.  He is already crawling and wants so badly to get in on the fun.  He is also happy to just go with the flow.  They are all happy.  And healthy.  And they have the most infectious smiles and laughter.  They are magical and amazing to me and they represent everything good in my life.  Their smiles & laughter... their kind hearts & pure souls...  they are free and whimsical and they are a forever reminder of absolute and unconditional love and of what can be created from love. When I look at them I beam with pride.  I'm am living my life with my family and doing my very best to enjoy every single moment. 

And the next time I am asked about having more children I'm simply going to reply with... Three is a magic number.  Because it is.

When I look at this picture another song comes to mind... 

"I hear babies crying, I watch them grow.  

They'll learn much more, than I'll ever know.  

And I think to myself... What a wonderful world"

A wonderful world, indeed.

Cannibalism. At It's Best.

Now...  I know there are a handful of you out there who read the title to this blog entry and nodded your head in agreement because you know exactly what I'm talking about.  

For those of you shuddered at the word, "cannibalism", please... allow me to enlighten you.   

Looong ago, before my 3rd, and 2nd for that matter, pregnancy I was visiting with a girlfriend and fellow mommy friend.  We were chit chatting about babies, birth, etc. while our babies (our daughters are very close in age) played.  This particular girlfriend was (is) a fellow home birth mommy and was a large part of my inspiration to go for it myself.  Well, during this particular visit I found myself fascinated during our conversation when she said she had her placenta encapsulated for consumption and stored it in her freezer.  Yes, ladies and gentleman, you read that right.  I admit, my response was probably the same one you're having right now, if this is the 1st time you've heard of this ritual.  Now, allow me to clarify...  My girlfriend was the 1st person I heard of who had done this, but apparently there are women out there who come to your home to prepare and encapsulate your placenta the day after your birth.  And once it's encapsulated they're ready to take.  Easy as pie.  ;)

Why, you ask?  Why on earth would anyone do this, let alone just think about doing it?  Oh, I am so glad you asked.  Placenta Encapsulation is, in a word, replenishing.  Think about it...  During our entire pregnancies our babies are hidden so warmly and comfortable in the womb, attached to us by...  the placenta.  Everything our babies get from us, they get from the placenta.  The very definition of Placenta is, "an organ that connects the developing fetus to the uterine wall to allow nutrient uptake, waste elimination, and gas exchange via the mother's blood supply." Now, don't get me wrong.  When I 1st heard of this from my friend I did think it was weird, but I was intrigued and definitely curious.   

It wasn't until I made the decision to home birth years later when I actually took the time to research it further.  I remember seeing a post on another girlfriends (my friend who attended and photographed my birth) facebook page saying she had "ingested her placenta" and I realized that it was a common practice among home birthing mommies.  It was no wonder every home birthing mommy I knew always seemed like they were floating on cloud 9...  ;) 

The next step for me was finding someone to do it.  I asked around and was pleased to find out the student midwife working with my midwives encapsulated placentas according to "Traditional Chinese Medicine".  I contacted her almost immediately.  And after speaking with her and my girlfriends in detail I had pretty much made up my mind to do it.  Among the countless benefits the one that sold me the most was avoiding any sort of postpartum depression. Or in my case, post baby blues.  The very idea that "eating your placenta" meant you were replenishing your body of all vital nutrients/blood lost during labor along with it's natural healing chemicals just completely made sense.  As far as I was concerned there was no reason not to do it.  It was naturally the next step for me after birthing.  Of course when I mentioned the idea to my husband and family I was met with hesitation.  But then, just like every other "hair brained" idea I had (you know...  VBAC, home birth... ;) I changed their minds and they supported my decision.

After my baby boy was born my midwife stored my placenta in the fridge.  And the very next day my girlfriend and student midwife at the time (she is now licensed!) came over to encapsulate it.  She brought her own gear and took care of everything.  She brought such a calm and peaceful ambiance into my home.  And after coming back the next day to finish up she not only gave me my 1st 2 pills to take, she also dried the umbilical cord and shaped it into a heart as a beautiful keepsake.

During my 1st week postpartum I can honestly say that I felt like a brand new woman.  I felt uplifted.  There was a sense of serenity drifting throughout my body.  Crying baby?  Not a problem.  Crying baby and screaming toddler?  Nothing I couldn't handle.  My mood was calm and my babies felt it.  I was patient and relaxed...  without a hint or sign of the blues.  And the boost to my milk supply was an added bonus. 

I still have some "happy pills" left that I can take on an as needed basis...  if I'm having a particularly stressful day or just need an extra mental push to get through a rough time.  I can hold onto them forever and even use them once menopause hits to help ease those symptoms as well.  I just store them in my freezer and know they're there when I need them.  Kind of like a security blanket...  

Pretty darn cool, if you ask me. 

"Mother Nature's Son"

After our last check I stood up and asked, (in what I am sure was my most pathetic voice ever) my Midwife if I could go sit in the birth tub.  She smiled and nodded, knowing it was exactly what I needed to do.  She knew, every step of the way, exactly what I needed. 

As I strolled down the hall toward the tub I sent my last text to my girlfriend, who was well on her way, letting her know I was dilated 9cm.  And then I climbed in.  And oh my goodness...  it felt so nice.  Yes, I was still very much in labor and yes I was still having the most intense contractions, but sitting in that tub, looking around my house and feeling my husband sitting behind me, supporting me, loving me, holding me, just really sealed the deal, even more so.  There really is nothing like it.  

I felt my 1st contraction in the tub a few minutes after I got in...  And with that 1st contraction I felt a POP!  Hallelujah!  My water broke.  Mentally that was the last hurdle, before actually pushing my baby out, I had to overcome.  And we were off to the races!!!  Ok, so technically we weren't in any hurry, whatsoever.  I just really like that saying.  ;)

My contractions continued to stack up right on top of each other and all of a sudden I heard a knock at the door.  It was my dear friend.  She made it just in time.  I remember smiling as she walked in, feeling so thankful that she was able to leave her 3 babies at home and be there for me.  She immediately took over as official birth photographer and showered me with reassurance and loving words.  My niece got the video camera ready and my midwife continued to get all necessary supplies ready for when my baby arrived.  My birthing music was ready to go in my DVD player and as soon as I stepped foot in the tub I asked my niece to press play.  It was the 'Bedtime With The Beatles - Instrumental Versions of Classical Beatles Songs' CD and  just as that same track listing played every night as I nursed my 1st 2 babies to sleep it was going to be playing when I brought my baby into this world. I couldn't think of a more perfect scenario.  

During my transition I definitely had those moments of "I can't do this".  And when I say that, I mean I knew I was going to do it, but saying those words out loud somehow made it easier to manage.  I told my midwife that I was probably going to say "no" and "I can't do this", etc. simply because it just felt better to do so.  There was never a doubt in my mind I was going to do it.  

I remember feeling a particularly strong contraction and my body just kind of... pushed.  I knew I was pushing, but definitely felt as if my body took over.  And it felt good.  Soooo, I started pushing with every contraction from then on.  I was leaning against my husband, with my back to him, and after a couple pushes it stopped feeling good and started hurting again.  The descent down the birth canal had begun.  I could still hear, somewhat, my birthing music in the background, but it was getting harder and harder to focus on anything other than the pain and my body.  With each push I could feel my babys head descending and then as I would stop to breathe I could feel it "go back in".  Heart ache. I didn't like the position I was in because every time I pushed, I would try to ground myself by pressing my legs against the sides of the tub and the last thing we needed was for me to break the walls right down.  It might not have been a possible feat, but we weren't about to chance it.  So I changed positions to all 4s and tried once again to push my baby out.  It was so sad to feel the head once again... descending and then...  going back in.  I remember saying out loud, "It's going back in" and my midwife sympathized and then I remember saying, (again, in a very pathetic voice), "it's not fair".  I remember hearing the "awww's" of my friend and niece.  They were trying so hard to make me feel better.  And at that moment my midwife responded with one the most important and supportive things that helped me get through it.  She said, "I know...  but that's good.  It gives the tissue a chance to stretch and the head a chance to mold".  And with that I was given a renewed sense of, "I CAN DO THIS".  

After a few more contractions and me pushing with every ounce of my being my midwife suggested I move back to my original position.  Sitting, leaning on my husband.  She told me my babys head was "right there" and I was doing a good job.  I admit, I was in so much pain that when I tried to put my hand down there to feel it, I just couldn't.  I wanted to, but I was feeling discouraged by the pain.  At one point I just blurted out, "it hurts" and then my midwife came through yet again with the most powerful statement I needed to hear.  Her response?  A very loving and comforting, "I know it does...  but you just gotta push through that pain".  And instantly I felt the light bulb go on...  "oh yeah, duh!"  I have to push through it!  And... I did.  And I pushed.  And I pushed.  And then I felt my babys head coming out of me.  I can't even begin to sit here and try to explain what that feels like.  Absolutely amazing.  Times one hundred million.  And then my midwife looked up at me, smiled and said, "It's not going back in anymore".  Deep breathes...  tears.  Happiness.  And then it was time for me to "bring the house down".  :)  

I remember screaming...  loudly.  I remember feeling my babys body inching closer and closer to the world of water waiting for it.  I remember feeling the shoulders making their way through and then... at 5:12pm, to the tune of, "Mother Nature's Son" playing in the background, my baby was born. And instantly pulled out of the water and onto my chest.  I burst into tears and I could hear the tears of my niece and friend.  My midwife had the biggest grin on her face.  I took a little peak and blurted out, "IT'S A BOY"!  My son.  Oh thank the lord for you, my son.  I held him, close to my heart, wrapped in a towel and couldn't stop staring at him.  Kissing him.  I couldn't stop telling him how amazing he was.  Is.  I looked back at my husband and cried as we kissed.  The love in the room was overwhelming and I wanted to soak it all in.  Never before had I been in an environment where there was such a peaceful calm after the birth of a baby.  Something I am forever grateful for.

 

My son was born at home.  Where my heart and the hearts of my husband and children live.  Where, actually, Maya Angelou said it best...  "The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned."  Yep, that pretty much sums it up.  "Where we can go as we are and not be questioned."

This is it! Part 2.

For the next 3 hours, while my daughter was in school and my son napped, I progressed rather quickly. My Midwife returned around 2pm and by then I was at 5cm.  My water bag was still in tact so she wanted me to really get going/walk around to try to get it to break.  Basically, do whatever was the least bit comfortable.  She suggested that my husband and I go for a little walk around our complex.  So, we did.  It was nice to walk around, but by that point my contractions were right on top of each other and they were STRONG.  Oh man, they hurt (understatement of the year).  I remember walking around and just literally hanging on my husband when a contraction came on.  And the nausea...  oh the nausea.  I felt like I had to puke.  I was careful not to eat too much earlier that day, but I did eat breakfast and snack a little so I was worried that it might come up.  I told my husband I wanted to go back home... I was really feeling it now.  REALLY.  We walked back into the house and I immediately sat down on the carpet, grabbed our make-shift bucket vomit holder and...  yep.  You know what happened next.  Fortunately it wasn't a lot.  Very little actually.  I remember my midwife saying to me, "now you look like you're in labor" and that made me smile.  It was really happening.  I was actually doing it. 

After about an hour and a half I needed to go lie down or do something to help with the pain and my midwife thought that would be a good time to check me again.  We walked into my room to find my mom on the phone...  confirming her hotel reservation for her and my babies and then, without me having to say a word, she left to pick up my baby girl from school.  It was about 3:30pm and I had dilated to 7cm.  That was the 1st time in all my labors I had gone that far without any pain medication/drugs or interventions.  An accomplishment I am most proud of.  

My mom returned home with my daughter around 4:15 and I was still in my room, in the midst of my transition, (the hardest and most painful contractions) and I was trying desperately not to feel defeated by the fact that my water bag was still intact.  I heard my son wake up from his nap and felt better when my niece ran to pick him up.  I wanted desperately to see him, hold him and tell him good night, but I was so concerned about letting him see me in such an unfamiliar state.  Both my husband and I knew that he would not be happy about coming in for a quick good bye.  Instead, my husband brought our daughter in and we said our good nights.  We explained the baby was coming and her abuela was going to take her and her brother to Chuck E. Cheese for dinner and then to a hotel for a sleep over.  My niece, (sister to the one attending my birth) volunteered to stay at the hotel with them and my sister and brother-in-law joined them for fun and play at Chuck E. Cheese.  Lucky Kiddos.  And from there, I was able to focus, 100% on having my baby.

Mentally, the idea that my water hadn't broke yet was unbearably rough to handle.  When my son was born my labor started with my water breaking so I was not prepared to get this far without it happening yet.  And I knew that until it broke my baby wasn't coming and I had to endure this pain that much longer.  Ahhhh!  My midwife suggested I try sitting on the toilet to encourage it...  sooooo, I did.  Oh man.  oh man, oh man, oooh man.  WORST. PAIN. EVER.  There was absolutely nothing I could do to relax to help handle the pain, except to just wait it out.  She wanted me to sit there for 5 contractions and then she said she'd check me again at 4:30... and we would talk about breaking it.  Something neither of us wanted.  I counted each and every contraction waiting ever so impatiently for #5 so I could get off that damn thing. I couldn't squeeze my husbands hand hard enough, hold onto anything hard enough to transfer the pain.  I was stuck with it and it wasn't going anywhere...  Breathe...  I just had to breathe.  4:30 rolled around, and so did my 5th contraction so we checked again.  This time after she checked me I felt a little bit of fluid leak out.  Just a little, but enough to know that it was amniotic fluid and there was hope yet for it to break on it's own!!!  And with that she told me I was dilated to 9cm.  Almost there!!!!! 

This is it! Part 1...

I went to bed on January 13th, 2011 feeling like my labor had officially begun.  I was ecstatic.  And maybe a little bit nervous.  I got ready for bed and told my husband I was pretty sure I was in labor and we would see how the night went.  There was no sense of panic or fear whatsoever.  It was nice.  We were home and we had no plans to go anywhere else. 

We went to bed and throughout the night and into the morning I woke up to contractions just about every hour. When I got up the next morning I couldn't wait to call my family, friends and midwife. 

I spent the early part of the morning (between 7-8am) making calls and one of them was to my mom, asking her to come over.  Her job was to be in charge of my babies.  The plan, if we felt the need, was for her to take them to a nearby hotel for the night so my husband and I could bond with our new baby.  And having my mom there, taking care of them, made me feel so much better.  I also called my niece and told her she could come over whenever she wanted.  She has plans to become an RN and it's her desire to work in Labor & Delivery so I offered to let her attend my birth as a learning and positive experience.  I also called my girlfriend who was willing to attend and photograph my birth.  I wanted to capture every moment.  

When my midwife and I spoke I told her my contractions were about 10 minutes apart...  Consistently.  She wanted me to call her back when they were more like 5 minutes apart (and more painful).  My husband and I decided we would go ahead and set up my birth tub since we had been told on more than one occasion that it takes a long time to fill.  And once it was filled there was in internal heater that kept the water super warm.  My mom arrived and we all had breakfast.  The kids danced around and thoroughly enjoyed helping their daddy set up the birth tub.  I also took advantage of the time I had to pack a bag for my daughter and son in case we decided to send them to the hotel. It was a magical morning for me.  I got to experience the absolute joy of being home with my children while going through the early stages of my labor.  

I called my midwife a few hours later with the news that my contractions were continuing and gradually getting stronger, about 5 minutes apart.  She decided to come by to check on me.  It was just about noon when she arrived and as much as I knew I was having steady contractions I really didn't expect to hear news of any dilation.  Well...  when she checked me I was already dilated 3, almost 4cm.  What!?!  REALLY??  Awesome!  That was such a great boost to hear.  We were rolling right along...  She had to run out real quick and told me to call her back when I was experiencing painful, consistent (5 minutes apart), unbearable contractions.  

It was about lunch time and almost time for my daughter to go to school so after we shared the news of my progress my mom and I made lunch for the kids.  The tub was still being filled and with every contraction I would holler, "contraction" and my husband would rush over and start rubbing my back or feet or whatever I needed until they passed.  My niece even joined in and rubbed my back for a while.  Not too shabby.  

After lunch I packed up my daughters back pack for school and kissed her good bye.  And then I sat down with my son and proceeded to rock him to sleep for his nap.  I had a couple contractions while rocking him, but it was so easy for me to just remain calm.  Once he fell asleep I cuddled him a little longer and then put him to bed in his room.  At that point I was thinking, this day could not be going any more smoothly.

The Build Up...

Time goes by so fast.  This we all know.  But let me tell you...  my 3rd pregnancy was a contradiction to everything I knew up to that point.   I felt like it would never end.  The sickness... the discomfort...  oh man, I was watching the clock.  My babies, I have no doubt, were in a hurry to have their little sister or brother out as well.  For all they know aliens invaded mommies body and the day that baby was born I was set free...  :)  

Let me clarify what else I meant by everything being a contradiction...  It was my 3rd pregnancy and yet the 1st time I got so unbelievably sick and uncomfortable, so exhausted I could barely stand and for the 1st time I tested positive for GBS or Group B Strep.  And if that weren't enough I also had horrible reoccurring yeast infections.  I. WAS. A. MESS.   When I tested positive for GBS my midwife and I discussed what I would need to do to take care of myself so it wouldn't be an issue and so I wouldn't have to be hooked up to an IV during my labor/birth.  Annoying and a total pain? YES.  Simple fix?  Yes.  Just another "something" to overcome and say goodbye to when my baby was in my arms. 

We, and I say we because in my house we all felt the affects of my pregnancy, were nearing the end and it was time to get everything in order.  I reserved and picked up my birth tub and birthing kit, my husband and I went to our birthing classes and I got a handle on all my "issues".  I started getting my nightly contractions that happened a couple weeks before my son was born and every night I went to bed I would think and wonder...  is it going to be tonight?  And then I would wake up (several times throughout the night) and my son would be climbing all over me and... nothing.  

The week of my due date I started feeling my nightly contractions more and more and swore a few times I was in labor.  But then they would slow down or stop completely and I felt all bummed. boo.  So one night I was getting ready for bed and when I went to the bathroom I saw something that is not normal, but definitely...  a sign.  I feel like I've already given you all way TMI so I'll spare you the details now.  Suffice it to say... this was it. 

Did you know...

Did you know that the US has the highest obstetrical intervention rates of any country?  Or that in studies comparing home vs. hospital births, home births, supervised by a “trained attendant”, indicate fewer deaths, injuries and infections?  Did you know that respiratory distress in newborns was 17 times higher in hospitals than in the home? Did you know all that?  I didn't...  at least not until I actually took the time to do the research.

There were several reasons, including the ones I stated above, why I chose to have my baby at home this time around.  Truth be told, first and foremost was my desire to have a water birth.  I have always been interested in the idea of having a baby in what I felt would be the calmest, most peaceful and most comfortable environment (for my baby and myself) and a birthing tub was not something that could be provided for me at the hospital.

I also felt the need to completely take any unnecessary interventions and any pain meds out of the equation.  I did not want to risk getting a nurse who pushed or encouraged epidurals and I didn't want to be told that I needed pitocin just because I "stalled" for a bit. I knew full well what my body was capable of, what it was meant to do, and I wasn't about to let anyone tell me anything different. 

And after my 1st official appointment with my midwife I felt even more assured that I made the right decision.  The absence of any "medical office scenario" was so promising and comforting. I found myself sitting on a cozy couch, discussing my pregnancy with my midwife in what was their "normal" casual manner and all I could do was smile with excitement and anticipation of what was to come.  My future birthing journey...  one that I can not wait to share with all of you. 

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. 

The Official Announcement.

May 13, 2010

The first time we got pregnant, it was an answer to our prayers. 
The second time was our very own little miracle. 
And our third time??? Well... our third time's a charm! ;)

Happy Mother's Day!

Mother's Day 2010...  May 9 to be exact.  Exactly 1 month from the 1st day of my last period...  

We spent the day with family at my mom's house.  It was a beautiful day so we spent the majority of it outside, chasing the kids around.   It was a pretty relaxing day...  and we had family visiting from out of town as well.  All in all a pretty fab day.  There was only 1 thing missing.  My period. 

When the end of the day arrived and there was not one single sign of it, I pretty much instantly knew.  And I didn't know what to think.  I told myself I would take a pregnancy test the next day, if my period didn't come.  Admittedly I secretly hoped it would.  But knew deep down it wasn't going to. 

So when Monday rolled around and I was still period free I took a deep breath, peed on a stick and waited.  And there it was...  staring at me.  A big fat, "Pregnant"sign.  I was stunned.  And stood there frozen.  I'm... pregnant?  Again??  In my heart of hearts I was happy, but at that moment I couldn't believe it.  And I wasn't sure I was ready.  Haha, well...  ready or not!?!  

I immediately called my husband at work to tell him the news.  And while on the phone I burst into tears.  Not because I wasn't happy about the little being growing in my belly, but because I was just so mixed emotionally.  I thought about my sweet baby boy and how it would affect him.  I wasn't as concerned about my daughter since she is older, but I found myself in the same situation as before, wondering how this would affect my nursing relationship with my son.  At least I had the full 9/10 months to prepare!  :)

I did not plan on having a 3rd baby.  I did not plan on having a 2nd baby for that matter.  I put it all in Gods hands and there I was...  growing another baby in my belly.  Here we go again! 

Our life.

Shortly before my daughter turned 3 we enrolled her in preschool.  We found a great school with a low student to teacher ratio which would result in her receiving a lot of 1 on 1 attention.  We felt confident she would thrive and her enthusiasm for going assured us we did the right thing.  And having that little bit of extra time to spend with my baby boy was pretty priceless. My heart was so warm.  And so happy. 

My daughters 3rd birthday was a pretty big milestone for me.  I was so happy to see my baby girl grow and yet so sad to see the same.  Her turning 3 coupled with the fact that my baby boy just turned 1 left me crying tears of so many emotions.  I felt like time was being taken from me and I wanted to just hold on and stand still.

We were coming up on early April (2010) and were scheduled to fly to the east coast to visit my IL's.  We were definitely looking forward to the trip, but for some reason I just couldn't pull myself together to get us all ready.  I felt like it was "Moving Day" all over again.  Why, I wondered??  I had no reason to feel anything but totally excited!!  I'm thinking it was the fact that I started my period the day before we were supposed to leave...  I was probably having some bad PMS and on the day I started was having god awful cramps.  Labor pain cramp like.  Left me stopped in my tracks while trying to make lunch for my babes.   Thank goodness I was able to rally through and as they slowly went away my anxiety turned to total excitement!!  Our packing was almost completely done and I couldn't wait for my husband to get home so we could finalize plans for early the next morning.  I wasn't happy about traveling while on my period, but after all was said and done, it wasn't even a blip on my radar.  We always had a great time when we visited the IL's and I was excited to be taking my babies there for the 1st time!!  A little worried about the airport/plane ride, but just figured my husband would help keep our daughter company and I would just nurse my son when he needed/wanted.  It was a full proof plan that worked like a charm.

Our trip was a total success.  We had a super fabulous and uneventful time.  I was feeling pretty great and and pretty proud of my awesome little travelers for adjusting so amazingly.  The time change didn't mess with us much and we were all back to our daily life in no time.  My daughter went back to school, my husband went back to work and my baby boy and I spent more time together.  Our lives, the lives we created, felt fulfilled.  But...  I was definitely ready for our next adventure.  Whenever that would be. 

You have a boy and a girl... you're done, right?

C'mon... how many of you have heard this??  

It seems to be the 1st thing people say to you when they A) find out you have 2 or more children and B) that you have at least 1 boy and 1 girl.  And when I would say, "I don't know" or "we'll see", I would get a look that I must be crazy.  Really?  Is it so crazy to actually want more babies??  

The truth was I didn't know.  All I knew was that my son was really high maintenance and was still, at 16 months, not sleeping thru the night.  He slept in our bed for the most part and woke up frequently throughout the night to nurse.  He was nearing in on 18 months and in my mind that was the magical age where life gets a little easier...  so, did I want more babies?  Did I want to go through all of this again?  

Well, no matter what answer I came up with, the one constant was I had no plans for birth control.  I pretty much decided I was done with all that noise after going through what we did to get pregnant the 1st time.  I just didn't think about it...

Moving Day.

I feel the need to post about this day as it was one that was particularly trying for me.  It was not only the 1st day I ventured out, alone, with both of my babies, but it was also the day I would leave one home and come home to another.  It was a big day, indeed.

I woke up in the morning with the thought that I had to get some sort of food together for my daughter since we would be gone most of the day and my pick was limited since everything was pretty much packed away.  So I fed her breakfast, packed up my diaper and snack bag, got everyone dressed and kissed my husband good bye.  He assured me everything would be taken care of and really, I didn't have a single doubt.  I was purely focused on how I was going to handle the day with a 2-week old who was not fond of car rides and an almost 2-year old who liked to run away from her mama.  I double and quadruple checked to make sure I had my stroller in my car.  

I actually had plans that day.  And no, it wasn't a fun day with friends where I could just sit at their home while my baby girl ran around and played...  I had to take her to an audition about an hour away via one of the cities most busiest freeways.  Blah.  Traffic, bad traffic, was inevitable.  

We arrived at the audition and it was one of those where we had to wait...  and wait.  I consistently handed my baby girl snacks and when lunch time slowly crept up I began to worry that I didn't have much of the way of "substantial" food.  I hoped the snacks I had would hold her over.  And they did.  Of course by the time they finally called us in my sweet patient baby boy was ready to nurse. And when they called her name I just stood up, holding my nursing baby boy, and pushed her stroller in the room.  I had to take her out when we got in there and I managed it with one hand.  The audition called for her to dance around next to a guy - presumably someone who would play her daddy in the commercial - and as soon as the music started and the guy started dancing she wanted no part of it.  She had no interest whatsoever.  Sooooo back in the stroller she went and we made our way out to some nearby benches where I could finish nursing.  I was pretty agitated by this point.  Not at all because my baby girl didn't want to partake, but because they made us wait so long and because I did not want to be there.  At all.  And yet, I had nowhere else to go.  I had to wait until everything was moved into our new place.  

My memory of what happened next is a little faded...  I remember trying to secure my daughter back into her stroller to walk to our car and she didn't like it.  She tried to fight me and as she arched her back trying to get out of the stroller I just looked at her, almost in defeat and continued to hold and nurse my son.  Eventually she sat and let me click the straps.  There was not an ounce of fight on my end and I'm thinking she realized her mama needed her to cut me some slack.  Thank goodness.  

We got into the car and began our long drive home...  by this time traffic was sure to be even worse than before so I tried my best to brace for the possibility of having to pull over multiple times for my baby boy.  I also needed to get my baby girl home for dinner.  Yes, dinner time was fast approaching.  

As we got closer to our new home the traffic slowed to almost a complete halt.  And it started to get dark out.  I heard my daughter coughing in the back and didn't think much of it until I heard a faint gasp and then her calling out to me.  I looked up in my rear-view mirror and there was just enough light for me to see that she had thrown up all over herself and her car seat.  In her 21 months of life it was the first time she had ever thrown up and it just happened to be while I was completely stuck.  I had no way of getting off the freeway at that point.  The 1st thing I could think to do was to call my sister, who fortunately lived a mere 5 minutes from our new place.  I informed her that my baby girl had just gotten sick and I would make my way there as fast as possible.  She offered to run a bath and to make us some dinner.  Steamed rice for my baby girl and her sour belly.  

When we arrived, my nieces came and got my daughter and I carried my son up in his car seat.  He stayed asleep, bless his little heart.  They gave her a bath while I soaked, scrubbed, cleaned and dried her car seat.  I couldn't imagine that she had any sort of stomach flu and after her bath when she sat and literally chowed on steamed rice I realized that this was completely my fault.  I had failed, 100%, at providing her a healthy meal that day and the variety of snacks she was given just made her sick.  My poor baby girl.  Fortunately I had the mind set to pack enough extra clothes, including jammies, for my babies and by the time we did arrive home they were both all ready for bed.  I had given my husband a heads up that we were on our way home so he could make sure to have her crib set up.  My baby girl fell asleep quickly after we got back into the car and she was an easy transfer to her bed when we got home.  My son stayed asleep long enough for me to sit and look around...  My husband had already gotten so much done as far as unpacking went.  I felt so lucky.  So relieved.  So thankful for him.  And so very thankful for my family coming to my rescue.  

There was nothing left to do, but begin our lives together, as a family, in our new place.  I sat on our couch, looked over at my husband and was overcome with feelings of goodness.  I felt at peace.  I felt like I was...  home.  And with that our earlier adventures quickly became a page in our past and I couldn't wait to wake up the next morning. 

Post Baby Blues...

Not depression...  just...  blue.  

It is hard to believe that after such an incredible, (one of the most incredible) moment it is possible to feel anything but absolutely amazing and high from the idea that this new little beautiful, precious baby has entered your life.  But, I did.  And I think it is a combination of those natural high cloud 9 feelings mixed with the sad blue feelings that make it so confusing and hard to comprehend.  They clash, in a way.  

We arrived home in the early evening of January 1, 2009 and I couldn't wait to introduce my baby girl to her new baby brother.  We walked in the door and my daughter was very happy to see us, but a little weirded out by the tiny little bundle I was holding in my arms.  My mom and sisters had been staying with her so she was having a great time.  And my apartment was spotlessly cleaned and my mom had cooked up a storm.  Something we are all always so very thankful for.  At first my daughter wasn't into the idea of a formal introduction to her brother so we just gave her the space she needed until she was ready.  Which happened to be the very next day.  She sat on our love sac (foam bean bag) and asked to hold her baby brother.  It was the sweetest moment.  I cried.  Of course... 

I will admit, our 1st night at home was R-O-U-G-H.  I was prepared for the nursing on demand and knew that I wouldn't be getting much sleep, but for some reason it was just different than when we first arrived home with my daughter.  Aside from only being a day old my baby boy already required way more attention...  Attention I had absolutely no problem giving, it was just an adjustment phase.  Naturally.  He needed to be changed with practically every wet diaper because if I wasn't fast enough to change him he would leak.  Man, baby boys pee A LOT!  And if you don't change fast enough you are surely to get peed on as well!  So my awesome husband and I spent most of our nights nursing him, changing his diapers AND jammies and then re-swaddling him, only to do it all over again an hour later.  Add to that my baby girl waking up a 5am and wanting to nurse and come to our bed with us...  Of course we let her.  That 1st night/morning my husband offered to take my baby boy to the couch with him while my baby girl and I nursed and cuddled, but I wasn't about to let that happen.  Nope.  We all cuddled in our bed and my babies took turns at my breast.  And then we tried our best to sleep until at least 7am!  Sometimes we'd stretch it to 8!  By then I had to get up to make breakfast and start our day...  This all sounds pretty normal right?  Why would I be sad at all?  Well...  there were a few bumps in our road ahead.

Because my husband is completely dedicated to his family AND to his job he wasn't able to get out of the already scheduled inventory at his company.  Especially since he is the manager and had to be there to supervise his dept.  So about 10 days after we returned home he had to go back to work for 3 nights - starting at around 8pm and not returning until somewhere between 2-4am.  Which meant I was on my own at bedtime and throughout the night...  My daughter was still nursing to sleep as was my son (of course!) and I felt like a complete failure at managing my time between my babies.  They both needed me so and I had to make them both feel 100% loved and soothed.  I settled for nothing less.  Most nights I ended up on the couch, nursing them both after neither one of them would go to sleep.  Once my husband was home and in bed he never once hesitated to still get up to help me, which I felt so lucky to have, but of course I made him rest up as much as he could.  Mornings came and I would do my best to juggle a crying newborn while making eggs for my baby girl.  I wasn't smart enough to have a sling back then so I would just hold him and cook with one hand or put him in his swing and hope and pray he wouldn't cry.  Once breakfast was made and my daughter was eating peacefully I could sit and just swoon over my son.  And by then my husband insisted on getting up to be there for us and with us throughout the day.  

By this time his parents had flown into town to visit their brand new grandson.  They were (still are!) so proud.  They were staying at a nearby hotel and as soon as everyone was up, dressed and able we would go visit them at their hotel for breakfast or lunch or to simply hang out and visit.  Admittedly it was difficult for me to muster up the strength to leave the house...  healing after the birth was rougher than I had anticipated.  And I was just plain exhausted.  Never the less getting outside always felt nice and the fresh air was something we all most definitely needed.  And when I felt I just couldn't do it they had no problem coming to us.  They spoiled us with love and support and I secretly hoped the birth of their grandson would persuade them to move closer to us...  I still haven't given up on that hope. 

There was one more bump in the road...  We had given notice to move out of our apartment and needed to be out by January 15th.  Yep,  two weeks after my son was born we had to pack up and get out.  And nothing in my apartment was packed.  Nothing.  I was so not ready for this. It was our decision to move and something we needed to do for financial reasons, but still, I was dreading it.  Immensely.  I felt at a complete loss.  I didn't want to leave it all up to my husband to take care of, even though he was completely willing and able, but there was literally not one single part of me that felt I could handle the stress of it all.  Which also made me feel horrible.  I am also not very good (at all!) about asking for help.  It's just not in my nature...  something I need to work on, for sure.  So when my amazing friends called and begged to come over and help I repeatedly told him "no thank you".  My exceedingly generous IL's (In-Laws) heard we needed to buy a fridge for our apt. and took us shopping to pick one out.  They didn't even question it.  We needed it?  They were going to provide it for us.  They also offered to pay for movers when they heard we planned to do it all ourselves....  So we graciously took them up on their offers and tried our best to express our heartfelt gratitude.

Our 2 leases overlapped so we could take our time moving in and we were able to kill 2 birds with one stone by meeting the delivery company for the fridge and the gas company guy all in the same day (at the new apt).  My daughter immediately chose the room she wanted and in fact the day we were there waiting she and my husband took a nap together, on the carpet, in the room she still sleeps in today.  I wound up taking a little walk with my baby boy while looking around our new neighborhood.  Things were looking up.

It was January 13th, the last morning of my husbands inventory and ONE day before our movers were scheduled. And there was still so much to be done.  I got a call from a very good girlfriend of mine and I must have been feeling completely vulnerable because after her many offers and persuasions I ultimately gave up and let her come over to help.  She has a son my daughters age and so I also knew they would be happy to see each other.  After visiting with my baby boy for a bit she just took over and packed up my entire kitchen.  In no time at all.  My heart was filled with love and gratefulness.  I have to add that this is also the same girlfriend who had her husband stop by a couple days after we got home with a big ole' box of gifts and homemade delicious food for us.  She knew that if I saw her I would invite her in, but that I wasn't quite ready for visitors so she sent her husband up to drop it off with a note that we would see her soon.  She rescued me that morning.  And I am forever thankful to her.

By the end of that day we were somehow close to 95% ready for the movers.  My husband stepped up huge and practically packed up our entire place.  I managed to pack up a few things here and there, but I take no credit for getting us ready.  I know how tremendously lucky I am to have such remarkable people in my life.  And with that...  moving day fast approached.  Like it or not.  January 14th was upon us. 

New life.

One of the reasons I chose to pursue a VBAC was because I knew that a vaginal birth would "require less hospital" time for me.  And I was in a hurry to get back home to my baby girl.  I was in no hurry to rush any after birth bonding with my son, but I also felt that we, as a family, needed to start bonding right away.  

After my son was born I remember feeling much more awake and alert.  I knew this time around that there was absolutely NO WAY that I would go anywhere close to hours without my son by my side.  I didn't have to overcome any drug effects and I sure as heck didn't have to sleep any off either.  They measured him, weighed him and got all necessary information in the very room he was born in, just as before, but after wrapping him up and bringing him to me they walked away, giving us ample time to bond before they had to move us to post delivery.  I could barely hold back the tears.  I was beaming with a sense of accomplishment that I birthed my son into this world against the overall popular notion that because I had a cesarean before I had to have another.  And the truth is if I wound up having another cesarean I would've been ok with it.  But I knew that IF it were to happen, it would be absolutely because of necessity and not because of convenience.  It was going to be my decision.  You know... my choice. 

He looked up at me with such open eyes and I couldn't believe he was mine.  I couldn't wait to try nursing him.  He was sucking on my finger for a while and a few of my family members came in to visit and to see my brand new gorgeous baby boy.  

They asked to take him for his 1st bath and since they were also going to move me to my next stop, post delivery, I allowed them to bathe him in the nursery and was assured that my husband would stay by his side the entire time.  And after a few short moments he was back with me in my room. They had him in one of those little plastic see through cribs and rather than leaving him there, I scooped him up and laid him next to me, in my hospital bed.  Where he slept for the rest of our stay.  Swaddled and cozy, right next to his mommy.  

We were successful when it came to nursing and I wondered how my baby girl would handle having to take turns, especially since my son would be nursing on demand, whenever he wanted.  They actually wound up being our most beautiful moments. There were a few instances where I would be nursing them both, at the same time, one on each breast, and my daughter would reach out her hand to hold her brothers hand.  Oh my, it was so beautiful.  So Amazing.  So Lovely.  True sibling bonding.  And all at my breast, where they both sought nourishment, comfort, love and soothing.  I was so thankful for those moments.  

My son was born on New Years Eve and because everything went so marvelously we were able to check out and go home the very next day.  January 1st, 2009 we were all together, as a family, and were eager to go about living our lives. 

Happy New Year! Part two.

We arrived at the hospital and I stayed in the car while my husband ran to get a wheel chair.  I didn't need it, but he wanted to "take care of me" so I let him...  I thought it was cute.  When he walked up to the security guard, rather than telling him he needed a wheel chair to help me in, he told him I was "giving birth in the car".  The guard just about choked on his drink and before he could get up to really react, my hubby quickly corrected himself by saying that I was in early labor and just needed to check in.  I decided at that point that I would just walk in.  Walking was better for labor, anyway. We then proceeded to almost walk the wrong way.  It wasn't our 1st rodeo, but we were sure acting like it! 

We finally arrived to the Maternity Floor and I signed in.  The time on the clock when I signed in?  Midnight.  Exactly.  December 31st.  I wasn't keen on the idea of being there for 24 hours so any thoughts about having "the 1st baby of 2009" went out the window.  There was a lot of chatter about moms checking in and in labor to see who would have that new years baby!  Me?  I just wanted my baby.  And I wanted him to decide when it was time to come out.  And as of then he was doing a great job of it.  

After we finished any paperwork we were showed to our room.  I changed into the gown and my 1st shift nurse introduced herself.  I explained my "situation" to her and she immediately jumped on the support train and was 100% for me going for my VBAC.  In fact, not only did she encourage me going for a natural labor, she assured me she wouldn't mention drugs.  Ever.  I felt so supported.  Between her and my husband I was feeling really great that everything was going to go as planned.  

I wanted to be able to walk around and be free to sit and get into different positions to help alleviate any pain and my nurse was quick to get the necessary "permission" I needed for intermittent monitoring.  She even helped by showing us different positions I could stand in and by showing my husband how he could support me.  She also helped to control my breathing.  My contractions were getting intense and she was instrumental in helping me to get through them.  I had seen my OB a few times by this point and all was going smoothly.  Until...  around 7am, that is.  When my nurse's shift was over.  Noooooooooooo!!!  I couldn't believe she had to leave...  I admit it - I was terrified.  Everything was going so smoothly and I hastily jumped to the conclusion that I wasn't going to be able to do this without her help.  Help that had been getting me exactly where I wanted to be. 

My new shift nurse was very nice.  Also very encouraging and supportive.  In fact when my OB came in to check me and saw that my contractions had "stalled" for a bit he told my nurse to give me a small amount of pitocin to get them "moving along" again...  my nurse winked at me and said she wasn't going to.  That made me feel good and I felt like things were looking up.  Again.  My OB came in a while after and saw that the pitocin had not been given...  so my nurse literally gave me the least amount possible and then soon after that, turned it off.  I know now that I could have easily told my OB I did NOT want it and that it was completely MY decision.  

My contractions did indeed pick up and within a couple hours I was smack in the middle of the most intense and powerful pain.  I had forgotten everything my 1st nurse told me or rather I remembered and was unsuccessful in trying to breathe through and relax.  My husband, god bless him, tried so very hard to help me, but nothing was working.  And I was giving up on myself.  The worst thing I could have done.  I know it. I tensed up and I didn't allow myself to give into the pain.  Add to that the anger I was feeling for letting the pain get the best of me and I was a wreck.  I turned to my husband and told him I wanted the epidural.  I uttered those words that I am sure every mommy utters at one point or another... "I can't do this".  But instead of saying it and doing it anyway, I said it and then proceeded to ask for my nurse to page the anesthesiologist.  And the moments I sat there waiting and waiting were the worst.  The pain got even more unmanageable and the anticipation of it going away only made things worse.  The anesthesiologist arrived and "hooked me up" and it was only a matter of time before I realized that I had just taken away any ounce of freedom I had.  I made it completely impossible to walk around anymore.  I couldn't even go to the bathroom on my own.  The numbness was overwhelming and I was so extremely disappointed in myself.  I knew that my body would now have a chance to really relax and "open up", but it wasn't supposed to happen that way. 

We were making our way into the early afternoon and I decided that I was just feeling "too numb".  I didn't like it.  I hated it, in fact.  I asked my nurse to page the anesthesiologist to come in and turn my epidural down.  All I wanted was to take the edge off, I did not want to be this numb.

I waited patiently for the drugs to wear off, but when they didn't wear off enough I paged her again and asked her to just turn it off.  Completely.   By this time I had been moved to "Active Labor" because I was at 4cm when my OB last checked me.  It seemed to move quicker and quicker this time and now I was anticipating the drugs wearing off and having my baby!!  My OB came in to check me and my nurse was by my side telling him we wanted to hear good news!  "How about 7cm"?  he quickly replied.  And then he turned to me, smiled and said, "you're going to do this, Anita".  I was going to have a successful VBAC.  I was thrilled.  It was almost time to meet my baby and I wasn't going to have to do it from an operating table.  I would be able to hold him from the moment he was born.  I was indeed ready.

7cm quickly progressed to 10 and the epidural was wearing off.  Slowly, but surely.  My nurse was so excited for us and she talked to me a bit about how I needed to push when the time came.  She paged my OB and he was on his way, but while we waited she wanted to go over a "practice push" with me.  I did everything she told me to do and gently pushed...  as this was happening my OB walked in and said, "hey, wait for me", in a half joking way.  Basically my son was so ready that he was on his way out with just my practice push.  And in that moment I was overcome with happiness.  I asked my nurse if there was a way I could see my son being born and she grabbed the standing mirror and put it in place so I'd be able to see him coming into this world.  My OB was just about ready.  It was all very casual.  Nothing like I had been through with my c-section.  There was no sense of hurry or worry.  I was in labor and almost ready to have my baby.   It was only a matter of minutes before I was going to be holding him!!  My miracle baby boy.

FIVE. MINUTES. LATER. my son was born.  I did it.  And as soon as he was born he was immediately placed on my chest and in my arms.  All I could do was stare at his gorgeous face.  He was oh so perfect.  My beautiful baby boy.  My son.  I burst into tears as my husband and I kissed and just stared him.  I couldn't wait to bring him home to meet his big sister.  My babies.  My loves.

In just a few short months I had gone from not knowing I was pregnant to finding out, to holding my baby in my arms.  I felt so lucky.  So blessed.  So happy.  So incredibly fortunate.  Time stood still, for just a moment.  And in that moment it was just my baby boy and I.  And our life as mommy and son had begun.  

Happy New Year! Part one.

Happy, indeed.  The happiest, in fact.  Ever.

My pregnancy was pretty much uneventful, in the best possible way.  No unnecessary testing and no concerns.  It was a definite variation from my daughter.  I wasn't worried about missing out on the testing that is normally done in the 1st trimester.  And I wasn't concerned that my daughter was still nursing.  In fact she continued to nurse throughout my entire pregnancy and I made the decision to allow her to tandem nurse if she hadn't weaned by the time my baby boy was born.  I wasn't about to push her aside for her brother.  And from what I read about breastfeeding and it's countless benefits, I knew it would help them grow closer together.

The holidays were upon us and my due date was fast approaching!  We celebrated Christmas and I tried very hard to make it as  memorable as possible, considering it would be my daughter's last one as an only child.  She was, no doubt, spoiled rotten and I loved every minute of watching her open presents. 

New Years Eve was right around the corner and the idea that we would soon be welcoming a new baby to our family was both miraculous and overwhelming.  Overwhelming because we had plans to move mid-January and the idea of packing up and heading out with a toddler and a newborn was not something I was looking forward to.  Our decision to move was based solely on our financial situation and we really had no other choice.  Fortunately we found an even larger place for less money.  Hallelujah!

December 30th, 2008...  My sister was visiting and I had just completed a long day at work.  I was ready to go home to my baby girl.  My husband was working late so it was just my daughter and I at for bath time and bed time. We went through our usual routine and after some nursing and cuddling she was fast asleep.  I had been experiencing contractions on a nightly basis, but nothing consistent in one night.  Did that make sense?  I would feel contractions pretty much every night, but never for long periods of time.  So I never paid too much attention...  just waited for them to pass.  On this particular night I felt a really big and painful contraction, the only one of it's kind so far and I wondered if it meant anything...  and after not feeling another one for a while, I didn't give it much more thought.

That night, and like most nights, I got hungry and instead of cooking something I simply called my husband to ask him to bring home Carl's Jr.  I was craving it.  He took our order and showed up moments later with our grub.  We ate, relaxed and he treated me to a fabulous foot massage.  Good man. 

I got up to go to the bathroom and afterward, walked over to my kitchen counter to open a hazelnut chocolate bar...  I barely unwrapped the tin foil when all of a sudden...  I felt a burst of liquid and quickly realized what had just happened.  "Oh no, I think my water just broke!"  I couldn't believe it!  This was it!!  My body was indeed making all of the decisions. I ran back to the bathroom to sit and think about what our next move should be.  I wasn't used to having so much liquid come out either.  When my water was broken with my daughter there was hardly any at all.  My husband brought me the phone and I called my ob's office.  The on call Dr. suggested I go to the hospital.  So my husband and sister rushed around gathering my things and brought me some clothes to change into.  The plan was my sister would wait at my house for my mom so she could stay with my daughter.  My bag was pretty much packed, aside from a few toiletries, so there wasn't much else to do.

Once we were ready to go we went in to kiss our baby girl goodbye...  We had never left her overnight and while we knew we were heading out to have a baby, we were still sad we wouldn't be home when she woke up in the morning. 

We headed out of the house and my sister let us know she would text me when she was on her way to the hospital.  She was on video duty so it was imperative that she get there fast.  The camera we were going to use belonged to our good friends and since I went into labor earlier than I expected I hadn't yet borrowed it from them.  I sent a widespread text letting everyone know what was going on and my girlfriend, the one with the camera, immediately texted back that she was on her way to drop off the camera with my sister.  It was around 11:15pm at this point...  and she even stopped along the way to buy tapes for us.  I was very unprepared.  Thank goodness for amazing friends! 

I couldn't believe we were on our way to the hospital.  To have a baby.  I had no idea what was in store, but I was ecstatic to get there.  I was ready.  And I couldn't wait to meet my baby boy!!