Child Rearing Hips

I have been trying since my last entry to sit down to type out a bunch of things.  How Maggie went up to Mia on our second morning home and told her all about stepping in coffee grounds in our kitchen and how Mommy had to wash off her foot - all while Mia was sound asleep in the swing.  How Ben spent the first few days refusing to touch the baby or kiss her, or anything, until the one day I was on the couch with her and he brought her his favorite blanket AND his lovies on the couch.  How Mia is the sweetest, easiest baby, but she nurses non stop for periods during the day, and it is a little bit hard to do anything else.  How I left the hospital this time feeling like I was bursting with love and joy, and recognizing that THAT was the feeling one was supposed to have after having a baby.  How Mia latched on and nursed in the same room that she was born in, like a born natural, and how the whole first night in the hospital no one really checked on us, and we changed her, I nursed her, and we held her all night long.  How they had taken her to the nursery for something, and I had to ask to have her back, and the nurse was a little surprised, but there was no way I was missing that first opportunity I had ever had to room in with my baby, the one I had carried for so long. 

Mia will be 3 weeks old tomorrow, and as you can imagine, life with 2 year old twins and a newborn baby is kind of exhausting.  One can't sleep while the baby sleeps when there are two other little people who need you to be on top of things for them.  Thank goodness Andy has been home, and we have had family help, but it is going to be crazy when he goes back tomorrow!  Instead of trying to catch up on everything all at once, I wanted to just try to start at the beginning.  This isn't a true birth story with all the details and gore and glory, but this is what I want to remember about the birth of Miss Amelia Elizabeth, so let me go back.  I want to point out here that this turned into a REALLY long blog post that took me almost 10 hours to complete today.  I'm not kidding, I just checked the timestamp.     

On June 12, I had contractions that I timed for like 7 hours that died off over night.  I was sure when I had my appointment on Tuesday (the 14th) that I would have some kind of progress towards labor.  They checked me again at the doctor and nothing.  Just a fingertip dilated again, and way up and back.  At that point, he was willing to schedule my c-section on Thursday since I would be 39 weeks, but we wouldn't be able to do an induction without progress on my own.  I was bummed.  My Mom was with me, and I told him I just wasn't sure if I was ready yet to schedule it.  He agreed that as long as I was comfortable, since everything else looked good that he would give me another week.  The next Tuesday if I was still pregnant, I was to bring my bag to the appointment because if I still wasn't progressing, he had a spot on his surgery schedule for that afternoon.  Nothing like a little pressure.

So we went home and tried a few old wives tales.  Wednesday, I had a pedicure with my SIL and we went to Chipotle for dinner.  Wednesday night I started having contractions that kept me up, were as close as 3-5 minutes apart, and lasting for over a minute at a time.  I told Andy that I would be shocked if it wasn't the start of something.  We finished packing our bags, called the doctor in the morning, got grandma and grandpa to come over, and got to L&D at about 6:30.  As we were finishing getting ready, the contractions stalled out.  When we arrived at the hospital, I was getting these very skeptical looks from the hospital staff and starting to get vibes that they would be sending us home for sure.  Sure enough, the resident checked me. . .1 cm.  Contractions had died off to almost nothing, and I was preparing for the word to go home and try again.  But, they called my doctor and he decided that since I was there, and since I had been contracting like that over night that they would go ahead and admit me, augment my labor, and see if they could get me going again.  We were transferred to a birthing room and I was given the plan.  I talked to the doctor on the phone and he said that this wouldn't be a 6 day induction, if by the end of the day I wasn't making progress, I would be having the baby anyway that night.  I was prepared, and grateful that he was giving us our chance. 

Turns out that "augmenting my labor" meant holy hella pain.  They inserted a Foley Bag and started me on Pitocin.  The Foley bag was uncomfortable to the 9th degree of Hell, and the contractions coming a minute apart on top of it had me crying and puking almost immediately.  A Foley Bag, in case you are unfamiliar like I was, is a balloon at the end of a cathater that they insert in your cervix to fit between the amniotic sac and the cervix to help put pressure on the cervix to dilate it without drugs.  Just as painful as it sounds, if you were wondering.  Between that and the contractions coming on top of each other I went from no pain to ready to beg for my c-section.  Which I am pretty sure I did.  In between the swearing and puking.

Luckily the nurse decided I was ready for my epidural and sent for the anethesiologist.  It was absolutely crazy how fast the pain went away and how I could watch a contraction on the monitor, feel it with my hand on my belly but not have any feeling of it anywhere else in my body.  Blessed relief.  This was right around the time my SIL Patti arrived, who was kind of like my own personal nurse, doula and photographer rolled into one.  There are no pictures from before she got there (they wouldn't have been pretty) and I will spare you the gory birth photos, but I was so grateful for her support! 

Around the time they gave me my epidural, my water broke on its own and I was up to about 5 cm and the foley bag fell out like it is supposed to not long after.  I was monitored for awhile, we went through a shift change where they messed with my pitocin and my contractions stalled out again.  My next nurse, whose name I can't remember, was determined to get my VBAC to happen.  She continously worked with my Pitocin drip to try to get my contractions productive again, and I credit her with my success!  She flat out told me that she refused to send me home to my twins after a c-section because she couldn't get the pitocin tweaked right.  I don't know the exact timeline, but I was checked and I had a secondary bag of water that yet another resident checked and needed to break, a different resident checked me at about 6:30 and that according to the doctor, I had another hour and a half to make progress or we were talking c-section since I was still stuck at 5. 
   
At right around 8:00, the resident came back in with the doctor.  Shifts had changed again, and I had a new nurse who said that it was looking like my contractions had picked back up.  When my doctor came in my heart sank.  The nurse had been hoping if I was at least a 6 that we could talk him into waiting, but since he was in his scrubs standing there, I was sure I was heading to surgery.  The resident checked me again, and kind of shook her head, and I took a deep breath and said that probably isn't good, right?  She said I was still only about a 5 or 6.  I looked at my doctor and said something along the lines of I'm sure since you are standing here I'm out of time.  He said that he wanted to check me himself and when he did, you should have seen the face of the resident.  He said I was more of a 9 or 9 1/2, and at Station +2.  I asked him what that meant (totally forgot all of my childbirth classes) and he said that Station +3 meant the baby was out.  So she was right there and I was ready to deliver!  The nurse went out to get the room prepped, they sat me up and I literally felt her slide down more, a resident, a student, some nurses and the NICU people came in.  Apparently when they broke my second bag they found meconium, and so they needed to be ready in case she had aspirated any.  I looked around at the roomful of people, including my doctor and thought about how I remembered from my SIL's labor that she had pushed with the nurse for a long time before it looked that busy.  My doctor was there for my first push and that was my first clue that this might go fast.  I started pushing around 8:40, and she was born at 9:02.  20 minutes, and according to many there, I was a rockstar pusher.  Who knew I had those kinds of skills just hiding in me? 

She came out crying, which was what they told me they didn't want, and I saw them try to take her, and clearly heard my doctor say "No, give her to mom."  Have I mentioned how much I love my doctor?  I got to hold my little goopy blue baby for a couple of minutes before they whisked her away to the warmer and I remember thinking a couple of things.  Ew, she's gross and goopy and I tried to grab her where I wouldn't have it on my arm, lol, and that she looked just like a Mia.  And like her sister. 

They took her over to the warmer and the nurse suctioned her where everyone gathered around to watch, and I listened to my doctor discussing stitching techniques with the resident who was watching, and wondered what was going on with my daughter because she wasn't crying.  They were rubbing her and had oxygen on her face at some point and I had this horrible feeling of dread that something was wrong.  I heard the nurses whispering Apgar scores and I know she had a 0 for something and 1's.  Turns out her first score was a 5, mainly because she was blue and too chilled out to fuss.  I had visions of her ending up in the NICU, having a repeat of my last experience, not being able to nurse her, not being able to hold her, being apart from her in the hospital, all the things I had feared.   

But as everyone kept saying, (my SIL was the only one who came over to check on me multiple times), she was just fine.   

Both of our Moms were in the delivery room along with my SIL Patti.  I really did lose all modesty after the twins I guess because I could have cared less who saw her getting pushed out.  I know especially for my Mom, who had never seen a delivery from the other side, it was an honor for her to be there. 

It took awhile for us to name her.  Like I had said, the first name in my head was Mia.  We had been down to Amelia and Elizabeth as our top two contenders, and right away, I saw Amelia.  I think Andy felt the same way, but we had to wait for the grandparents (my Dad had arrived by then and his Dad had been waiting in the waiting room) to clear out so we could talk about it.  Luckily, we agreed quickly and Amelia Elizabeth it was.  The grandparents came back in, helped us get up to the room and left for the night. 

We were up on the floor by around 11:30, and were briefly introduced to our nurse who was very busy because I don't remember seeing her again for many hours, when she came in during the night to check on our vitals.  They said they had 11 admissions on the floor that night (hello full moon), and I had a relief nurse who was the one who checked on me when we were still coherent, and I think that might be why we missed a few things that should have been in the welcome speech.  Like, all the goodies I got in the morning that helped with my, um, bottom repair.  Like, telling us that we should be counting wet and poopy diapers and timing our breastfeeding.  Andy and I were pretty much on our own, and didn't realize until the next day that we were supposed to be tracking this stuff, and that the little diapers we were using had a crazy little line on them that told us if they were wet.  I've never seen this modern technology, and we just acted like parents I think and dealt with things as they came up.  She nursed on and off all night, just like she was supposed to, just like we knew what we were doing.  I handed her off to Andy for diapers as needed, and we did the best we could.    

I sent DH down to the nursery to document her first bath that night.  They also did some other testing I think, and were going to keep her overnight.  Silly nurses didn't know that this Mama didn't want her out of my sight.   

Is that a Daddy in love with his little girl, or what? 

Miss Mia was a little concerned and grumpy looking quite a bit when she was awake, like she wasn't entirely sure what to think of us, and whether we were competent.  But she did look awfully cute in her monkey jammies that we busted out since they came to do the photo shoot from the hospital. 

The day after she was born, my parents brought Ben and Maggie up to see us, and to meet their baby sister.  I was so happy to see them, and when they started running down the hall when they spotted me, I think the feeling was mutual.

I was actually surprised that they weren't more surprised to find a baby there.  I guess they really understood what we had been telling them for months.  Being able to pick them up, hold them and be walking around less than 24 hours later made me very grateful for my VBAC and the nurse who wouldn't give up. 

Mommy with her girls.  

 This family shot made possible by a chocolate milkshake. 

And the next day they sent us home.  Crazy that it all happened so fast.  We took the time to play with the baby and take some pictures and try on some hats that Beth had sent us that she made for Mia. 

We hung around until after lunch so that we would arrive home during nap to lessen the confusion at home.  We got her all girlied up for the ride home, tried for a self family shot and left the hospital proud and happy parents of three. 

Welcome to our world, baby girl.  I hope it treats you well.   

Mamma Mia

Here we go again

Amelia Elizabeth

June 16 at 9:02 pm

7lbs, 5 oz  20 inches

Love at first sight

So much to say, so little time to post.  Things are going very well.  Better than I had hoped for.  I was able to deliver her the "normal" way, with just a little help from the doctor after I went into labor on my own.  I have other first sight photos where she is all goopy and kind of blue, but this is one of my favorites from the entire day.  Oh, and the post title?  The only thing we can get Maggie to call her at least for now.  Mamma Mia is one of their favorite songs, and I should have known that would happen the moment I looked at her and thought Mia.  Eh, every girl needs a theme song, right? 

The picture will change

I think I am having a baby this week.  I go back and forth between being excited to meet her, and being a little bit terrified of having three kids.  I mean really, what were we thinking?  Tonight we went out to dinner for one last hurrah as a family of four.  I was having contractions as we were leaving the house and the kids were just miserable at dinner.  Maggie (our normally great dinner companion) insisted on being on someone's lap the whole meal.  Ben was so restless and agitated before dinner came that I took him for a walk and with me to the bathroom.  This usually works to get him a little exercise and a chance to hang with Mommy for a few minutes.  Tonight he climbed out under the door of the stall on his belly while I was peeing.  Thank God we were the only ones in the bathroom and he couldn't figure out the exit door. 
It was one of those moments where I was thinking, why do I have kids, and why am I having another one?  What are we, crazy?  I can remember, of course, that she was a surprise, and we didn't really do this thing on purpose.  No sane person really sets out to have three kids in two years and two months. 

It is a very different feeling going into this little girl's upcoming birthday.  I am no longer feeling such an overwhelming sense of becoming a mother because of course I have already done that.  But this time, what I keep thinking so much about is that I am giving my children a sister. 

I think I have posted about this before, but I have a very slim family tree.  I am an only child and my parents are both only children.  My Dad doesn't even have cousins.  I am expanding our family by quite a bit.  I always wanted kids.  I always wanted a lot of kids.  I am pretty sure I tried to talk DH into 4 early in our marriage.  Now I can't believe we are about to have three.  I have no experience with adding a child to the family.  I don't have that childhood memory of the first time I met my baby brother, or remember resentment because of some childhood rivalry.  My husband does, and of course when you hear adult siblings reminiscing about childhood pranks and fights, and all that goes with it, when you're an only child you really can't relate. 

I already have fights to referree, my children already understand the concept of sharing, and I have seen sweeter things happen that I could have ever hoped to see, and my first two are only two.  What kind of moments will I see in the future?  What kind of love will I see between sisters, what kind of rivalries might they develop?  How will Ben relate to the girls in the family, will he be the cool brother their friends all have crushes on, or that weirdo one that they giggle about? 

My babies will become a big brother and a big sister.  They will (hopefully) feel some responsibility for this little girl I am growing.  They will constantly have another companion.  I don't think it is as big of a deal to add a kid when you already started with two.  I don't have the internal guilt of taking away my child's only child status, or changing their entire world.  They have always had to share me, but I have two hands and can fit two of them on my lap.  Where do you put the third?  How do I read stories in the rocker to everyone at once?  Will we have enough of us to go around?  We wonder what she will look like, and instead of just a general, will she have my nose, will she have his eyes, I try to picture if she will look like Ben did as a baby, with the sweetest little smile, or have Maggie's wide eyed "I know what you are thinking" wise beyond her years stare.  Will she act like one of them, or have her own way of taking on the world?   

Ready or not, here she comes.  I would love to tell you that she has a name at this point but she doesn't.  I don't know why it is so hard this time.  She has a nursery that is almost done, some new clothes and a lot of hand-me-downs and a Mommy who is hoping to do the absolute best she can to give her a life she will be happy with.  There are already a few things she has going right for her.  She has the best Daddy in the whole world, one who will rock her, soothe her, play with her, take care of her, and love her with all of his heart.  She has extended family who can't wait to meet her, and to see what she looks like.  She has a big sister who will teach her so much and a big brother with the biggest heart.  She has a Mommy who is determined to do the best she can, who is going to love her, and teach her, and take care of her. 

Who needs a crib anyway, right? 

My SIL was willing to try to do some maternity photos for me, and I wanted to just post a few of them that really show off the enormity of the belly.  Oh, and if you look carefully, the itchiness of the belly, I was fortunate enough to also develop PUPPPS again in the past couple of weeks.  One of those lucky, I beat the odds kind of things again since it isn't common to get it after your first pregnancy.  Lucky ducky me.  Warning - chubby pregnant woman ahead.  There's probably a reason most people don't wait until 38 weeks to do their maternity photos.   

And here we are, a family of four.  Maybe my last shot where it just us four.  One became two, and two became four, and soon we become a party of five.  We will outgrow a booth, we will have to figure out a new way to pose other than one parent per baby.  Things will change, things will stay the same, and we will be on to new adventures. 

Sometime this week. . .that picture will change.  I hope we are ready and I hope she is happy to join us. 

Milestones

So today, June 1, I am hitting two brand new milestones in my life.  First of all, it is my birthday.  33.  Crazy, and unbelievable to me, since I still can't believe I'm in my thirties and I don't think anyone who is my age fits the picture in my head of what people in their thirties are like.  I mean, do you remember shows like 30 something?  Weren't they all responsible adults?  I guess I've been in denial for awhile because when I went to look at my calendar recently I realized that I had written down the wrong age for my birthday this year.  Jen - 32.  Hmm, I guess I'm already ready to start counting backwards? 

And another big milestone today - I am officially able to say that I am as pregnant as I have ever been.  I delivered Maggie and Ben at 36w5d, and I have had that number in my head for so long that it will be strange to have another to remember.  But as of today I am 36w6d, and wondering how long this baby is going to take before she makes her grand appearance.  I had an ultrasound last week and she is measuring a week ahead and approximatley 6 lbs 14 oz.  Which already sounds huge to me for a newborn!  She went ahead and turned around head down, as long as she and my body cooperate, I think I'm ready to officially say that I'm going to try for a VBAC.  I can still change my mind, but I think that it would be a good fit for us, and a better start for me to my life as a Mommy of three.  Hopefully I have at least a couple more weeks because I don't feel like we are at all ready.  There's still a little part of me in denial that this is actually happening.  It's not just a river in Egypt, you know.   

We had a nice memorial day weekend, but I had a sad realization looking through our pictures.  I know I've said before that one of my issues frequently is that I catch things like Andy's knees and other peoples body parts in the background of my pictures.  It's not easy to get a great angle when I'm taking pictures of the kids, and right now, I'm not exactly moving around smoothly to reposition my shots all the time.  Since there are often other adults around when I am taking pictures (especially since the little ones are not always cooperative) it is always an issue.  I do try to include other people in my candids though.  Looking back through family events, or photos from when the babies were newborns, you would see picture after picture of my husband holding a baby, or playing with a baby, everyone who came to visit them, tender shots of grandma's snuggling their grandbabies. . .and occasionally a shot of me.  Or a part of me. 

Now, to be fair, I am always the one with the camera.  If I hand it off to other people, I am typically trying to pose a shot, and well, we've seen how well that works for me lately.  My parents when they are around like to try to include me in pictures (maybe because I'm their only child, or maybe because my Mom has heard this lament before), but they are not always, um, flattering.  So this weekend, especially since I am feeling pretty cumbersome, I had Andy take some pictures.  Thinking I might be in some of them.  Well, I am. 

Can you see me?  In the first one, that made me kind of sad, I am even smiling.  You can tell I thought Andy was trying to include me in the picture of the kids watching the parade.  It's not the most flattering angle or anything, but well, sometimes it's nice to just have photo proof that my kids do have a mother who does things with them.  The second one is practically a belly shot.  Well, belly and knees, but you know what I mean.

I guess this is a common problem when you are the family photographer.  I can show you the camera, but I can't teach you on the spot composition.  I can try to adjust the settings to make it easier for you, but I can't do everything.  I don't stick my hand up during sweet or tender moments with my kids yelling "take my picture please!"  For some reason this weekend it was really bugging me. 

Okay, enough complaining, especially since Andy was reading over my shoulder for much of this post and feeling bad.  Well sorry, I don't write it for you! 

Back to Memorial Day, and then a few photos to play catch up from other things that happened in May. 

We went to the parade with my parents.  It was lucky for us that it wasn't until probably half way through that they realized that people were throwing candy.  When Daddy and Grandpa took them out to the street to collect candy, they thought that was the neatest thing ever. 

 
We went to my inlaws for dinner and brought along our baby pool since it was 90ish that day.  It was kinda funny that a lot of pools open Memorial Day weekend, and ours was one of them this year, lol.  The water was really cold, Maggie seemed to love it, Ben was a little unsure, and my nephew spent a lot of time splashing and dumping water out of the pool.  All in all, good times had by all. 

Looking back at my blog I realized I never really posted pictures from Mother's Day.  As always, my plan involved group photos, and certain people (hint - they are wearing bathing suits above) were not cooperating.  Mainly the one in the trunks.  Here are some of the good, the bad and the ugly from Mother's Day. 

We gave up. 

But hey, this one was cooperative for his one month photo shoot!  It's nice to have practice with my nephew and to think that for awhile at least, I should have one child who can't run away for photos.

 
The next event to catch up on is Andy's cousin's wedding in May.  I had a horrible time with photos at the reception in the forms of a dying flash, weird lighting conditions, and my own unpreparedness of thinking ahead about settings for the camera.  Oh, and the fact that I was chasing toddlers all over the place, pregnant and in heels.  This was another of those Mommy took most of the pictures night, but Daddy caught a couple of Mommy. . .I still can't believe he missed what I thought would have made the best shot - Me, 8 1/2 months pregnant, in heels, holding Maggie and doing the electric slide.  Boo.  Here are a few of my favorites and or outtakes, I'll let you guess which are which. 

On May 20, just like last year, we went outside wearing blue to blow bubbles for JW.  JW is the son of a friend from my MoM group who passed away last year from respiratory complications.  His Mommy is a remarkably strong woman, and I wish I didn't know anyone who had a story like hers. 

And last but not least, a playdate with two of our best buddies.  Olivia, the daughter of my friend Jen and Gianna the daughter of my friend Andrea.  Ben definitely enjoys hanging out with all of the girls, although he needs to work a little on his game.  That first pictures looks a little like he might be holding the door for Olivia, but really, he is trying to car jack her.  In the rest, just some girly girls hanging out, playing with bubbles and chalk.  In the last one I just had to laugh - Gianna is a day younger than my two and an entire head taller than Maggie.  No one believes they are the same age! 

And with that, I'm off.  Happy June.  It's going to be a crazy month, a crazy year, and the start of an even crazier life.  As I've heard somewhere on TV (don't want to go there), it's a crazy life but it's our life.  Big things coming soon!