Baby Dominic's Birth Story

It's a boy!!

Dominic Jude

{Skipping over the announcement post, and getting to the real meat: birth story! Also, all the usual birth story TMI warnings.}

Clare's Birth Story
Peter's Birth Story

So, much like with Peter, I was pretty much done with being pregnant several weeks before birth. Also much like Peter, I went through weeks of irregular early labor/Braxton Hicks/whatever contractions. A few times, things looked promising...until they petered out. Blah.

So we get to 39 weeks. I had an appointment that Monday, when I was 39&0. Since we were planning induction for the next week, we had to do a cervix check (to see how favorable I was for induction, etc.), and things were promising: 3cm/80% effaced/0 station.

My doctor was sure that I'd go Monday or Tuesday. Or in the next few days at the outset, but scheduled a pitocin induction for Monday morning just in case. Ha! Famous last words!
So Monday came and went. My in-laws arrived to watch Clare and Peter on D-Day. That  was helped put my mind at ease. Greatly, since, even though I had several people offer help, it just made everything so much easier to know I didn't need to worry about it.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, weekend. All the walking and eating and pedicure-ing did nothing to move Baby along. By Friday, I resigned myself to induction, because it was so much easier on my mental state.

At least Baby would (presumably) have the awesome birthday of 08.08.16!

Sure enough, Charles and I were up and moving bright and early Monday morning. Ate breakfast--enough to sustain me in labor, not so much as to be a huge disaster if it came back up. Fun times! Gave the kiddos final good-bye kisses. Headed out.

As predicted

It was grey and rainy. I felt at peace about everything, but I also can't say I wasn't nervous about the unknown. We parked and made our way in to admissions. Ironically, it was the first time I'd ever set foot in St. Joseph hospital. Ironic because of the thousands of hours Charles has spent there. Literally thousands.

Anyway, we got checked in and make our way up to labor and delivery, and got the administrative side of things going. Flattering hospital gown. IV. A million questions from nurses and residents* and the anesthesia team. Another (always fun) check on progress.

When all was said and done, they started pitocin at about 8:30. For the first two hours, we watched the Olympics, ate ice chips (disappointingly old school--at least give me real water, people!), and hung out. Contractions were getting regular and were more uncomfortable, but still not too bad.

My main complain the whole time was that my nurse, who was so kind and very competent, was also an insane chatterbox. Like she made small talk constantly--even through contractions--to the point of being really annoying, and keeping Charles and I from having any conversations (important, ridiculous or otherwise) of/on our own.

I had my second check at 10:15ish without much progress, but after that, things started picking up. Contractions were getting really hard to sit through, and I was definitely breathing/not talking/wouldn't be walking through them. 

I got out of bed to use the restroom with the intention of laboring on the yoga ball after, but standing felt so good, I decided to stand/sway through them instead. 

By now, the contractions were pretty regular and pretty intense. I was definitely breathing/ working through them. I'd found through the last weeks of pregnancy that praying the Hail Mary through uncomfortable contractions/checks/whatever was really comforting and helped me to relax greatly. 2 or 3 Hail Marys really got me through each contraction. I'm sure calling in divine comfort and assistance aided me to that end as well. 

I also found great comfort in the Crucifix. Because I delivered at a Catholic hospital, there was one in the room and I happened to have positioned myself so it was right in front of me while I was up and out of bed. Maybe my guardian angel helped me get there. Regardless, focusing on Christ and His sacrifice, and trying (however pitifully) to unite my suffering to His, also helped me work through contractions. 

At noonish, they came to check me again. Progress! Officially declared to be in active labor!

Throughout my pregnancy, I had debated the epidural question, in part because of how fast I went with Peter. Finally, I had come down to  the realization that natural onset of labor would likely go too fast to bother, but if I was induced I was going for the meds. I wasn't trying to be a hero, and didn't see any reason to work through 6 more centimeters unmedicated.

So, since I was officially "in labor" the plan was to get the epidural, break my water and go from there. 

According to everyone, the anesthesiologist on call was The Best, and soon he and his nurse were in my room working their magic. 

Sure enough, in spite of the world's most uncomfortable labor position, and even though I had breathed and tried to relax and pray and was straight coached through a lot of rough contractions by Charles (who also got his hand squeezed like I was trying to do serious damage), the epidural worked its magic and the pain? Gone!

So, back the residents came to check again and break my water. But now? 8 and then 10 centimeters! Baby time!

They let me labor down, thanks to the epidural, while the team got things ready for delivery, then it was time to push.

I was actually nervous, because the epidural was so fresh and because I had no feeling of pressure or needing to push or anything "baby is coming"-y. That was one thing about Peter's birth--I definitely experienced that primal urge to push!

But, as it turns out, I'm one of those people who is naturally fairly good at pushing, and even without feeling it, I was pretty effective. I pushed through about 4 contractions and then...there he was!
It was interesting, because from the angle I was at, I could see that baby was a Dominic* at the same time as everyone else. No big "it's a boy!" announcement--just a lot of comments that yep, it was a boy.

They did immediate akin to skin (I was feeling very Mama Bear--give me my baby)! He was slow in pinking up, though, so the newborn team pulled him over to the warmer to clear mucous and get color in him. I got all teary waiting and watching--talk about hormones! I'm sure his initial set of Apgars was less than stellar, but once they got him going, a few minutes that felt like forever later, he was fine. They put him back on my chest and we snuggled (and Dominic started rooting), while they finished the slowest set of repairs ev-er for a barely second-degree tear. 

Finally, I got to sit back and nurse and let people know that the baby arrived. About this time, Charles and I were finally given a minute alone to finally decide on a middle name--Jude winning at long last*--to share with family and friends.

After a couple of hours, we were moved to a recovery room--the giant corner room, actually (perk of delivering where Dad works!). My in-laws brought the big kids to visit.

"Reading" to her brothers

"Baby Domnick, I love you."

My little mama

We ate and rested and nursed and got bored and got the heck outta Dodge 26 hours after birth, when we got the all clear on bilirubin! I don't care what anyone else says, there's no place like home!

Since then, things have been great! So far, we're enjoying the sleepy newborn phase, the sweet tiny baby snuggles, the help/company/baby holders, and Charles' days off + relatively easy schedule this month.

As nervous as I was about the induction, it could not have gone more smoothly. I was on the piton for about 5 hours from start to baby, and once labor kick started, things progressed fast: a little more than two hours from the onset of hard contractions to baby; one hour from 4 cm to complete -- it looks like those contractions while they were placing the epidural were as bad as they seemed. I'm sure all of those things will impact decision making if we have more kids. I'm mostly just grateful for a good experience, and for a healthy baby boy. 

Yeah. We're all smitten!

First family pic -- not cropped. :S

*Blog post forthcoming

7QT {08.05.16} -- A Watched Pot Never Boils

Here I am. I'm 39 weeks, 4 days pregnant, and feeling every single bit like that watched pot. So long as L&D are not happening, I'm trying to keep walking and keep busy, which means I'm linking up with Kelly this morning.

1. At this point, I've had irregular contractions more or less every day for weeks. These range from totally fine to pretty uncomfortable, but I'm still waiting on the big daddy contraction: the one that says get me to the hospital NOW! I've had 2 or 3 instances where I was hopeful that things were picking up, but only to have my hopes dashed. At my appointment on Monday, the doctor thought things looked promising to happen soon, but just in case, the plan is to induce this coming Monday if Mr./Miss Sassy pants here doesn't decide to come on his/her own.

2. In preparation for the next month of recovery, ceaseless breastfeeding and momming through the fog of sleepless nights and busy days, we got a new rocker/glider for the living room. It only took 3 shopping trips to find the perfect one, but on trip #3, we found it at the first place we looked. We wanted: something really comfortable, something that would last and work in future homes (more investment, less throwaway), something wipeable (for easy clean-up of spit-up, milk spills, whatever else kids do to furniture). This guy was delivered last weekend and fits the bill perfectly. Charles calls it my captain's chair, and while I'm sitting in it now as I type, I am mostly just looking forward to settling in with my little snuggle bug. The one who's still waaaay too comfy snuggling on the inside.

Post-chair delivery photo courtesy of Charles.

3. Want some bump pics? I'd love to say that these are my last 3, but the way things seem to be going, I'll get a 40-week picture on Monday morning. :-P

4. Last weekend, I was able to do something that I really wanted to do for each kid before baby comes: take them on a Mom-date. The original plan was to go to ice cream or something, but because of schedules, ironically, things got more elaborate. Clare and I went to dinner (she wanted pizza), then we did a little back-to-school shopping, grabbed a treat (she picked gelatto), and ate dessert by the fountain at the shopping center where she made wishes and ran around like the 4 year old she is.

5. Saturday morning, Peter and I went to breakfast, ran errands, and then had coffee/juice/giant cookie at Starbucks. He took soooooooo long to eat that dang cookie, but by golly, he ate the entire thing! It was nice to spend time with them before the baby. They are so excited and are going to be such good big siblings, but it IS going to be a real adjustment for them, too. Especially Peter. (Side note: he's already too big. I'm not looking forward to the come-home-from-the-hospital and your former baby is a giant/kid phenomenon.)

6. Last weekend was a flurry of activity (Clean! Get haircuts! Finish projects!) and preparations for arrival of the baby and the family that comes with it. Charles' parents are here until sometime next week. Then my dad and stepmom, and then my sister. So, we were busy, busy bees trying to make it all happen. One thing we finally did was set up the swing in the living room, since it did require some toy moving and rearranging to make happen. Anyway, Clare immediately decided it needed some love and put her baby down for a nap in it--sweet girl. 

7. OPENING CEREMONIES ARE TONIGHT!!!! Do you hear that baby?!?! Come out and watch with us! I'm super excited, and not ashamed to admit that when I saw when my due date was for the baby, I was excited to have a totally justified reason to sit on my bum and watch way too much Olympic coverage. I'm not watching dressage at 5am because I care. I'm watching it because Baby is hungry. 

And that's all I got. Happy weekend!! 

Finding Joy

Summer = popsicles on the deck, no?

Maybe you can relate.

I have an amazing life. I am blessed beyond measure. I am happily married to my best friend. I have two amazing (ex-utero) children. I am on the brink of welcoming another little soul to this big, bad world. We have all of our material needs met. We're doing the best we can on spiritual matters. We have amazing circles of family, friends, support -- both here in Wichita, and itching for us to come home to Arizona. 

I also have small children. I am 37 weeks pregnant in this sticky August heat that seems not to be going away anytime soon (at least according to the weatherman). I have a husband who works long (and currently very early!) hours. 

So, at the end of the day, where's my focus? On the moments that made me laugh so hard that I cried? On the joy of stopping my girl on the stairs and embracing her in a monster hug for no reason at all? On Peter's hilarious statements, lacking in any sort of connecting words?

No, I focus on me. On my problems, concerns, complaints. On how the kids are fighting or loud or not respecting my need for personal space between the hours of 3 and 5 pm.

One way that I'm hoping to combat that plague is by looking for the joy in my life. Identifying it. I mean, it's right there for the taking. I just have to do it. And I hope to share those moments here. To capture them. To make them my focus, instead of my blur. To count my blessings. 

My name is Ashley, and in my life, I am finding joy.

When It's All Bottled Up

I have barely touched a keyboard in months.

I want to. I want to find my creative mojo and write. I want to share the thousand things in my head and in my heart. I want to tell you about how beautifully God is shaping me with this whole marriage and motherhood thing. I want to tell you about how miserably I fail time and time again. I want to capture this moment in my life, because I see how fleeting it really is.

But yet. 

But yet. The words are just not there. Not where I want them to be. I have so many drafts sitting unloved. Unedited. Untouched. Unfinished. Unpublished. 

People talk about the death of blogging. Sometimes, I see where they are coming from. Sometimes, I feel the frustrating imbalance between not really caring how many hits I (don't) get, being happy to be a small-time blogger. Sometimes, I dream of more. Then I think about the time commitment, and it's time I just don't want to spend . . . on that. Not now. It's not the right time. Not for me. Maybe someday. 

Someday, I want to dream a big dream. I want to write or teach or DO. But right now, that's not where I'm called to be. I'm called to be Mama to these kiddos of mine. And that's more than okay. That's where God wants me. Doing God's will is always the path to joy, even (especially?) in the face of self-sacrifice.

But these thoughts, these ideas, these experiences? They aren't good when they are bottled up. I'm not good when they are all bottled up. 

Can I promise that my hope of wading back into the blogging waters will be fruitful? No. But my fingers are itching, and that is something I haven't felt in awhile. I'm hoping to run with it, and see where I land. I hope you'll come along for the ride.

Also, where else will I share pictures of my crazy kids being crazy?

 

37 Week Bumpdate . . . AKA the end of the road

Ok, fine. I still have 3 weeks to go. I still have 2 weeks before I told baby that s/he could make his/her appearance. But I think we all know that this is going to be the last bumpdate I manage to post. I just feel so blah about it.

Anyway, without further ado: 

Feeling: Okay, I guess. I'm hot and tired. I have various aches and pains. I have plenty of irregular contractions that aren't going to be sending me to the hospital anytime soon. One minute, I'm convinced that there is no way I'm going to make it to 40 weeks. The next, I've convinced myself that I'm going to be induced in the end. I'm pretty emotionally done, but as I mentioned, really would prefer Baby to stick around a couple more weeks. Basically, your classic preggo at the end of pregnancy, with the added bonus of an August due date. :-P

Wearing: The same things over and over and over. I'm mostly pretty sick of my wardrobe and mostly pretty ready to move on to the next phase: getting sick of my transition wardrobe. Also, I underestimated how short a couple of my t-shirts would get by the end of pregnancy, so that's making the situation even worse, if I want to be presentable when I leave home. 

Sleeping: Pretty well, all things considered. I'm doing the beached whale roll over every couple of hours, and I wake for the day pretty early -- even earlier than the kids, and that's saying something! -- but overall, I can fall asleep and go back to sleep, so I can't complain too much. 

Missing: It's summer. I would really like to enjoy a cold alcoholic drink on the deck while Charles grills and the kids run around like maniacs. I love my La Croix, but it's just not the same. At all.

Bonus: I've actually taken a lot of bump pictures in the last few weeks that never got posted, so here's your chance to watch me grow. And if you're really lucky, I'll add an actual 37 week picture later, when I'm not bedraggled from being at the pool this morning. :-)