Baby Adelyn turned 3 weeks old on Wednesday. I would like to say that we have gotten into a nice routine, but let's face it... she's still brand new. She's been a great baby and sleeps remarkably well (last night she went to bed at midnight and only woke up once before 7:30!), but a routine? Not yet.
I'm getting to that post-baby point where I'm physically feeling pretty good and starting to feel reasonably like a person again. I occasionally find myself thinking, "Okay! It's time to get back into things- to get organized and start getting things together and into a routine again." And then I actually try to do something....
Addy is not a difficult baby, but she's just not predictable. And she does have the same personality quirk that Camryn had as a baby: when she decides she wants something, she wants it NOW. She goes from being calm to screaming in a matter of 30 seconds. Now as soon as you get her what she wants she is fine again, it's just hard to finish getting anything done because I inevitably get interrupted.
But right now Adelyn is comparatively easy. The child who is tricky right now is Jackson. Jackson is his normal curious, exploratory, climbing, experimenting, almost two-year-old self. He just has a mom who has at least one- if not two- hands tied at least half of the time. Most days go like this: I decide to actually get something basic, like dishes, done. I start doing dishes. Addy starts crying so I stop, pick her up and nurse her. Jackson climbs on the counter and starts eating raisins. (If I'm lucky he won't put them in his ears like earplugs.) He climbs up to the phone and starts pressing buttons and reprogramming the answering machine. (Jackson is obsessed with buttons- he calls them "butties.") He goes to the TV and starts playing with the remote control, recording and rewinding The Price is Right. He pushes the eject button on the DVD player and puts CDs in and out, puts CDs in and out of the CD player, presses more buttons on the remote, whacks CDs on the stereo, etc.
This goes on interminably until either he does something dangerous enough or destructive enough to make me get up-- nursing or not-- and go get him. Initially it only took Jackson touching the DVD player or standing up on top of the counter to get me up. But as I get more tired (and the more he instantly goes back to whatever he was taken away from) the less things seem to matter. That probably explains why our VCR in the basement is broken (toys, DVDs or backwards VHS tapes got stuffed into it), why the ball popper toy won't work anymore (toy cars and trucks stuffed into it- they were painstakingly removed only to be stuffed in again within minutes) and why the main floor DVD player is broken. I'm fearful for the safety of the Wii or anything else with buttons that make noise or blink lights when you press them.
I may finally distract Jackson by reading "Clifford" or "Are You My Mother?" 15 times in a row- but that still doesn't allow me to get up and do dishes. I feel like I have a double-edged sword working against me: Addy's appetite and Jackson's curiousity. Between the two there is no hope of getting anything done... unless I am willing to sacrifice all of our electronic equipment as play toys for my two-year-old. Sigh.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Family Reunion
Here is a catch-up post on our family reunion this summer. Only 3 months after the fact... =]
In July, we hosted a family reunion for Dave's family.
We visited two cheese companies, one with a petting zoo.
We had two fabulous days at the beach.
We found Dave's mom her own restaurant.
We finished off the week by driving to Washington to see Dave's brother's family and their brand new baby. We celebrated two birthdays (Dave's mom and mine) and we all got to be there for the baby blessing.
We miss you all and can't wait to have you come visit again!
We visited two cheese companies, one with a petting zoo.
We found Dave's mom her own restaurant.
We rocked glow-in-the-dark miniature golf.
We survived sweltering, record-breaking heat and picked massive amounts of berries. We spent a day at the science museum.
We finished off the week by driving to Washington to see Dave's brother's family and their brand new baby. We celebrated two birthdays (Dave's mom and mine) and we all got to be there for the baby blessing.
Catching Up: Jared's Baptism
You know you are behind when you are blogging about things two months late. But better late than never, right?Jared turned eight at the end of August. (It makes me feel old to say that I have a child that is 8!) On September 5th, Jared was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We had a lot of family that came out to be here, including Dave's mom, my parents and two of my sisters, Alisa and Megan. It was great to have family here to share in the special event.
Love,
Mom
Monday, October 26, 2009
You Win Some, You Lose Some
Today was Adelyn's two-week checkup (a few days late). She managed to poop all over the exam table at the doctor's office and again later on her blanket. But after lots of worry that she wasn't eating enough and that she wouldn't regain her birth weight in two weeks (and I would have to pump and supplement and struggle with my milk supply like Jackson when he was brand new), today she made it past her birth weight to 8 lb. 1 oz., so we are in the clear! I guess her ready supply of poop should have proven that she has at least been eating something....
Our grocery supply was down to almost nothing, so after the appointment I made my first attempt at going solo to Costco with Jackson and baby. Miraculously, Adelyn slept the entire time we were at the store ...which she made up for by nursing for an hour straight when we got home (which made putting the groceries away become a multi-hour process). I managed to make it through the whole store even though Jackson decided midway that he did NOT want her baby carrier next to him in the cart so I had to carry it in one hand while pushing the heavy cart with the other. Of course I compensated for my effort by several impulse food purchases that would have easily paid for the cute candlesticks that I wanted to get for the mantel but passed over. I also ended up "saving" lots of money with Costco coupons and buying at least two items that I didn't realize I already had in bulk-sized multi-packs at home. At least now I have my emergency supply of frozen berries. Grrrr... Costco is a dangerous place.
I got home and got Jackson fed (or at least gave him food to throw from his high chair tray to the floor) in between Adelyn's marathon of feedings, but didn't get myself lunch until after the kids got home from school. I did manage to eventually get all of the groceries put away. I even got Jackson down for his nap-- only 2 1/2 hours late!
It just occurred to me that I had some clever theme for this blog post when I began, but it somehow has escaped me somewhere along the way. I also realized that I am writing "I got the groceries put away" as a highlight of note from my day. As fascinating as this must be for my readers, I think that means that it is time to end this post.
(BTW, is anyone else shocked by how much they spent on Halloween candy (between buying candy for the Trunk-or-Treat and trick-or-treaters)? Maybe it's time to get cheap-o candy instead of the candy bar mix...)
Um, Addy just pooped again. I guess it really is time to end this post.
Our grocery supply was down to almost nothing, so after the appointment I made my first attempt at going solo to Costco with Jackson and baby. Miraculously, Adelyn slept the entire time we were at the store ...which she made up for by nursing for an hour straight when we got home (which made putting the groceries away become a multi-hour process). I managed to make it through the whole store even though Jackson decided midway that he did NOT want her baby carrier next to him in the cart so I had to carry it in one hand while pushing the heavy cart with the other. Of course I compensated for my effort by several impulse food purchases that would have easily paid for the cute candlesticks that I wanted to get for the mantel but passed over. I also ended up "saving" lots of money with Costco coupons and buying at least two items that I didn't realize I already had in bulk-sized multi-packs at home. At least now I have my emergency supply of frozen berries. Grrrr... Costco is a dangerous place.
I got home and got Jackson fed (or at least gave him food to throw from his high chair tray to the floor) in between Adelyn's marathon of feedings, but didn't get myself lunch until after the kids got home from school. I did manage to eventually get all of the groceries put away. I even got Jackson down for his nap-- only 2 1/2 hours late!
It just occurred to me that I had some clever theme for this blog post when I began, but it somehow has escaped me somewhere along the way. I also realized that I am writing "I got the groceries put away" as a highlight of note from my day. As fascinating as this must be for my readers, I think that means that it is time to end this post.
(BTW, is anyone else shocked by how much they spent on Halloween candy (between buying candy for the Trunk-or-Treat and trick-or-treaters)? Maybe it's time to get cheap-o candy instead of the candy bar mix...)
Um, Addy just pooped again. I guess it really is time to end this post.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Jackson and the Baby
While I was in the hospital, my mom gave Camryn a new baby doll, complete with some clothes that matched Adelyn's. Camryn loved the doll, but she wasn't the only one who wanted this new toy: Jackson fell in love the the "bee-bee" doll and tried to hijack it for himself. So my mom made a trip to Target and got Jackson his own baby doll- one that makes goo-ing sounds and moves when you walk near it. He happily played with it- putting it in the bouncy seat and pushing it around in his baby stroller (or chucking it up in the air and catching it-- hey that's what daddy does with him) - for hours.
I wasn't sure how Jackson would react to having a new baby. He was not old enough to understand in advance that mommy would be having a baby. I was worried that he would not take kindly to being ousted from his place as baby of house. I shouldn't have worried. When Jackson saw that we had a "bee-bee," just like his, he was thrilled. He would stand next to the baby, giggling, point at her and say, "Beh-bee! Bee-bee!" over and over. At least 5 times a day he will come over to her, lean down and put his cheek against her head.
The only problem we are having with the adjustment now is that Jackson loves the baby... a little too much. He understands the idea that we love the baby, but doesn't quite understand yet that he needs to be more gentle with his loves than he would be with Jared and Camryn. He sometimes tries to pet/pat/hug/push her with a little more, um, vigor than would be advisable. So I have to keep a constant watch to make sure that Jackson doesn't try to give Addy too much love.
Yesterday, Addy was sitting in her bouncy seat in the family room. I got up and walked into the kitchen to get something for one of the kids. When I turned around, Jackson had picked Addy up and was carrying her across the room (she was facing out and he was hugging her around the middle). I literally screamed and ran over to rescue her. Luckily, this didn't startle Jackson so much that he dropped her. He just looked at me perplexed like, "What's wrong with you, mom?" Thankfully, Addy wasn't hurt, but it still gave me a serious, serious scare. It's not like I went far or was gone long. It was only a few seconds and I was only about 15 feet away. I felt utterly helpless as to how I will be able to keep Jackson from killing her with love.
I called Dave in a panic and of course, he being a man, rather than reassuring me that this didn't happen because I am a bad mother and yes, I would be able to find a way to survive the next two years and keep both children alive without losing my mind, he set about to problem-solve the bouncy seat safety issue. We needed to make sure that Jackson couldn't pick Addy up again, so Dave suggested we get out the play pen and lay Addy down in that. The walls are too high for Jackson to touch her. Problem solved.
So today, out came the Pack-n-Play. When I put Adelyn down inside where he couldn't reach her, pat her head or rub his cheek on her hair, Jackson was upset and sadly cried, "Bee-bee! Bee-bee!" I walked into the kitchen, turned around to check and Jackson was shaking the pack-n-play back and forth. I ran over to rescue Addy from the earthquake and to try to distract Jackson with some other game. In the course of the morning, Jackson tried several ways to climb into the play pen, but to no avail. The last straw was later in the morning when I caught Jackson climbing on the stepstool (which he had dragged over to the play pen) about to climb in right on top of where Adelyn was laying. At this point I decided that today was going to be a no-dishes-done day. So much for trying to be productive. After all of this, Jackson's regular exploits of climbing up bar stools, walking on the counters, trying to reprogram the phone answering machine and emptying cupboards seem like a relatively calm and safe alternative by comparison. Maybe I'll clean my house next year...
I wasn't sure how Jackson would react to having a new baby. He was not old enough to understand in advance that mommy would be having a baby. I was worried that he would not take kindly to being ousted from his place as baby of house. I shouldn't have worried. When Jackson saw that we had a "bee-bee," just like his, he was thrilled. He would stand next to the baby, giggling, point at her and say, "Beh-bee! Bee-bee!" over and over. At least 5 times a day he will come over to her, lean down and put his cheek against her head.
The only problem we are having with the adjustment now is that Jackson loves the baby... a little too much. He understands the idea that we love the baby, but doesn't quite understand yet that he needs to be more gentle with his loves than he would be with Jared and Camryn. He sometimes tries to pet/pat/hug/push her with a little more, um, vigor than would be advisable. So I have to keep a constant watch to make sure that Jackson doesn't try to give Addy too much love.
Yesterday, Addy was sitting in her bouncy seat in the family room. I got up and walked into the kitchen to get something for one of the kids. When I turned around, Jackson had picked Addy up and was carrying her across the room (she was facing out and he was hugging her around the middle). I literally screamed and ran over to rescue her. Luckily, this didn't startle Jackson so much that he dropped her. He just looked at me perplexed like, "What's wrong with you, mom?" Thankfully, Addy wasn't hurt, but it still gave me a serious, serious scare. It's not like I went far or was gone long. It was only a few seconds and I was only about 15 feet away. I felt utterly helpless as to how I will be able to keep Jackson from killing her with love.
I called Dave in a panic and of course, he being a man, rather than reassuring me that this didn't happen because I am a bad mother and yes, I would be able to find a way to survive the next two years and keep both children alive without losing my mind, he set about to problem-solve the bouncy seat safety issue. We needed to make sure that Jackson couldn't pick Addy up again, so Dave suggested we get out the play pen and lay Addy down in that. The walls are too high for Jackson to touch her. Problem solved.
So today, out came the Pack-n-Play. When I put Adelyn down inside where he couldn't reach her, pat her head or rub his cheek on her hair, Jackson was upset and sadly cried, "Bee-bee! Bee-bee!" I walked into the kitchen, turned around to check and Jackson was shaking the pack-n-play back and forth. I ran over to rescue Addy from the earthquake and to try to distract Jackson with some other game. In the course of the morning, Jackson tried several ways to climb into the play pen, but to no avail. The last straw was later in the morning when I caught Jackson climbing on the stepstool (which he had dragged over to the play pen) about to climb in right on top of where Adelyn was laying. At this point I decided that today was going to be a no-dishes-done day. So much for trying to be productive. After all of this, Jackson's regular exploits of climbing up bar stools, walking on the counters, trying to reprogram the phone answering machine and emptying cupboards seem like a relatively calm and safe alternative by comparison. Maybe I'll clean my house next year...
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Adelyn's Arrival
As you can tell from the pictures, baby Adelyn made her debut to the world, safe and sound. She is healthy and I am recovering well. I've procrastinated filling in the rest of the details about her birth. I know I have a litany of good reasons (new baby, nursing, recovery...) for not jumping right back into my blog, but really I have been putting it off because I don't think I know how to write about it in a way that captures the experience.
Sometimes it still overwhelms me to realize that I am a mother.... Not just once, but four times now I have brought a new person into the world. A new person that I have the responsibility of raising and nurturing into an adult. A new person that is unlike any other, before or yet to be. I know that birth is one of the most common and universal of life experiences and yet it still amazes me. At times it seems like the most natural thing in the world and at other times I wonder when exactly I became old enough to be responsible for another human being, let along four of them.
But I digress... back to finishing my blog. When my contractions started to get more uncomfortable I decided to give blogging a rest for a while. The nurse offered to hook me up to a battery-powered IV and fetal monitor so I could walk around and get out of bed. I'd never had this option before, but the idea of not being stuck in bed pondering on how much this contraction was going to hurt seemed like a happy one. So Dave and I went on multiple very slow laps of the hallways, pausing every few minutes for me to hunch over and wait for the contraction to pass.
Finally it got to the point where even our very leisurely walking was too much effort, so we headed back to the room. The contractions were pretty painful by this point, but they passed fairly quickly and the space between them was enough time to recover and brace myself for the next one so I didn't feel like I really needed anything to help with them yet. But the pitocin kept doing its work and contractions steadily got harder and closer together.
One of the quirks of my personality is that I have a very strong need to appear "strong" and self-sufficient and "not be a wimp." I don't know who I was trying to prove myself to at the time (Did I think the nurse has a wimp-o-meter that she measures each patient with?), but I wanted to not get an epidural until I really "needed it." So I stoically gritted my teeth and waited for that "needing it" moment to arrive, feeling particularly proud of myself and my heroic self-control. But in a remarkably short period of time from when we got back into the hospital room, I felt the "need" starting to come my way... fast. Unfortunately, as the nurse had tried to warn me, the anesthesiologist was on call so it would take him 20 minutes to get to the hospital after he was called, let alone the time to actually get the epidural in and working.
I tried to hold onto any remaining shreds of self-control as I waited for the anesthesiologist to arrive, but any remaining heroism had taken a flying leap out the window. I was doubled over in pain and could hardly make it through one contraction and take a deep breath before the next contraction was hard upon me. They gave me some demerol through my IV, but it didn't really help much. The anesthesiologist arrived quickly and started working on my epidural. It was really hard to be still enough through the contractions for him to work, so finally, the nurses lowered the dose of pitocin so the contractions weren't quite so close together.
The anesthesiologist had hardly finished putting in the epidural when I started feeling the urge to push. Needless to say, the epidural had not fully kicked in at this point. It wasn't long before the baby started to crown. But once she crowned trying to get her past that point proved extremely difficult (it turns out that she was face up). I would push as hard as I could (making seemingly no progress) and then collapse and almost fall asleep from exhaustion in between contractions. Finally her head came out and a few more pushes got her shoulders out. According to Dave (I was a little bit preoccupied at the time), she was born completely alert, with her eyes and mouth wide open.
When she was finally born, I was completely exhausted, but I also felt this exhilaration... this feeling of excitement and even amazement that I had lived through the experience... and survived! Simply the fact that I was not having contractions any more made the world a wonderful, wonderful place. I eagerly appreciated my lunch of bland, unremarkable hospital food as much as any gourmet meal. Simply to be alive, eating and not in labor was a happy, happy thing.
And so it happened. The rest of our stay was unremarkable... sleeping on a hospital bed interrupted by ubiquitous temperature and blood pressure checks. Because of the swine flu threat, they only allowed two visitors the entire time (including Dave) and no children under 18 at all, so it was a very quiet stay. After finishing the movie we brought and a late-night rice-crispy binge or two, Dave and I were both ready to go home.
The kids were thrilled to meet their new sister. My mom stayed until Wednesday to help, allowing Adelyn and I had some welcome recovery time. I enjoyed having several days to just bask in new baby glow- holding, changing, feeding baby... watching her little movements and how she looks around, trying to make sense of what is around her. I know that the baby "honeymoon" passes all too soon and reality of dealing with night-time feedings and diaper blowouts settles in all too quickly, but for at least a little while, it was hard to imagine being more completely, perfectly happy than sitting in the family room, feeding my new baby, surrounded by the people that I love most.
Sometimes it still overwhelms me to realize that I am a mother.... Not just once, but four times now I have brought a new person into the world. A new person that I have the responsibility of raising and nurturing into an adult. A new person that is unlike any other, before or yet to be. I know that birth is one of the most common and universal of life experiences and yet it still amazes me. At times it seems like the most natural thing in the world and at other times I wonder when exactly I became old enough to be responsible for another human being, let along four of them.
But I digress... back to finishing my blog. When my contractions started to get more uncomfortable I decided to give blogging a rest for a while. The nurse offered to hook me up to a battery-powered IV and fetal monitor so I could walk around and get out of bed. I'd never had this option before, but the idea of not being stuck in bed pondering on how much this contraction was going to hurt seemed like a happy one. So Dave and I went on multiple very slow laps of the hallways, pausing every few minutes for me to hunch over and wait for the contraction to pass.
Finally it got to the point where even our very leisurely walking was too much effort, so we headed back to the room. The contractions were pretty painful by this point, but they passed fairly quickly and the space between them was enough time to recover and brace myself for the next one so I didn't feel like I really needed anything to help with them yet. But the pitocin kept doing its work and contractions steadily got harder and closer together.
One of the quirks of my personality is that I have a very strong need to appear "strong" and self-sufficient and "not be a wimp." I don't know who I was trying to prove myself to at the time (Did I think the nurse has a wimp-o-meter that she measures each patient with?), but I wanted to not get an epidural until I really "needed it." So I stoically gritted my teeth and waited for that "needing it" moment to arrive, feeling particularly proud of myself and my heroic self-control. But in a remarkably short period of time from when we got back into the hospital room, I felt the "need" starting to come my way... fast. Unfortunately, as the nurse had tried to warn me, the anesthesiologist was on call so it would take him 20 minutes to get to the hospital after he was called, let alone the time to actually get the epidural in and working.
I tried to hold onto any remaining shreds of self-control as I waited for the anesthesiologist to arrive, but any remaining heroism had taken a flying leap out the window. I was doubled over in pain and could hardly make it through one contraction and take a deep breath before the next contraction was hard upon me. They gave me some demerol through my IV, but it didn't really help much. The anesthesiologist arrived quickly and started working on my epidural. It was really hard to be still enough through the contractions for him to work, so finally, the nurses lowered the dose of pitocin so the contractions weren't quite so close together.
The anesthesiologist had hardly finished putting in the epidural when I started feeling the urge to push. Needless to say, the epidural had not fully kicked in at this point. It wasn't long before the baby started to crown. But once she crowned trying to get her past that point proved extremely difficult (it turns out that she was face up). I would push as hard as I could (making seemingly no progress) and then collapse and almost fall asleep from exhaustion in between contractions. Finally her head came out and a few more pushes got her shoulders out. According to Dave (I was a little bit preoccupied at the time), she was born completely alert, with her eyes and mouth wide open.
When she was finally born, I was completely exhausted, but I also felt this exhilaration... this feeling of excitement and even amazement that I had lived through the experience... and survived! Simply the fact that I was not having contractions any more made the world a wonderful, wonderful place. I eagerly appreciated my lunch of bland, unremarkable hospital food as much as any gourmet meal. Simply to be alive, eating and not in labor was a happy, happy thing.
And so it happened. The rest of our stay was unremarkable... sleeping on a hospital bed interrupted by ubiquitous temperature and blood pressure checks. Because of the swine flu threat, they only allowed two visitors the entire time (including Dave) and no children under 18 at all, so it was a very quiet stay. After finishing the movie we brought and a late-night rice-crispy binge or two, Dave and I were both ready to go home.
The kids were thrilled to meet their new sister. My mom stayed until Wednesday to help, allowing Adelyn and I had some welcome recovery time. I enjoyed having several days to just bask in new baby glow- holding, changing, feeding baby... watching her little movements and how she looks around, trying to make sense of what is around her. I know that the baby "honeymoon" passes all too soon and reality of dealing with night-time feedings and diaper blowouts settles in all too quickly, but for at least a little while, it was hard to imagine being more completely, perfectly happy than sitting in the family room, feeding my new baby, surrounded by the people that I love most.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Welcome Baby!
Our little girl was born this afternoon at 1:01 p.m. She is 7 lbs. 14 oz. and 20 inches long. Both baby and I are doing fine and glad that labor and delivery is over. We are busily occupied with sleeping or eating. More to come... at some point when there isn't so much sleeping and eating to do. ;]
In Labor
Well, for once in the past few weeks, things went according to plan. I am in the hospital in labor, hooked up to an IV and fetal monitors.
I spent yesterday madly doing laundry and some last-minute shopping with my mom getting ready for my Tues. evening appointment at the hospital. There is something unnerving about a set induction date: it is just strange to know that on this day you will walk into the hospital pregnant and come home no longer pregnant with a baby instead. Even though this is my fourth, there is still a feeling of nervousness and apprehension ("Will I be able to handle this?") and a little bit of awe and disbelief ("On this day a new person will come into the world... a new person that I will be trying to raise into a responsible adult.") And there are always last-minute issues- it's time to leave but Jackson is a wreck and doesn't want to eat, where is the camcorder?, etc. Despite last-minute craziness, we finally set off for the hospital last night.
Dave and I have a tradition of going out to dinner the night before I have a baby- the "last meal" before your life changes forever and you have to take a baby with you for months. =](Of course this tradition is much easier to do when you are induced with all of your babies.) We went out for a nice dinner, which helped to calm some of the nerves and stress of the day, before heading to the hospital.
I was at a 1 when we arrived at the hospital and had one dose of the cervix treatment last night, after which Dave and I watched part of a movie and dozed off. In the middle of the night the contractions started to get more regular, so they started me on pitocin. This morning I was at a 3, so they broke my water.
I'm plugging along with contractions, which are starting to get stronger and more uncomfortable, so I probably won't be blogging for too much longer... at least until I get an epidural.
I spent yesterday madly doing laundry and some last-minute shopping with my mom getting ready for my Tues. evening appointment at the hospital. There is something unnerving about a set induction date: it is just strange to know that on this day you will walk into the hospital pregnant and come home no longer pregnant with a baby instead. Even though this is my fourth, there is still a feeling of nervousness and apprehension ("Will I be able to handle this?") and a little bit of awe and disbelief ("On this day a new person will come into the world... a new person that I will be trying to raise into a responsible adult.") And there are always last-minute issues- it's time to leave but Jackson is a wreck and doesn't want to eat, where is the camcorder?, etc. Despite last-minute craziness, we finally set off for the hospital last night.
Dave and I have a tradition of going out to dinner the night before I have a baby- the "last meal" before your life changes forever and you have to take a baby with you for months. =](Of course this tradition is much easier to do when you are induced with all of your babies.) We went out for a nice dinner, which helped to calm some of the nerves and stress of the day, before heading to the hospital.
I was at a 1 when we arrived at the hospital and had one dose of the cervix treatment last night, after which Dave and I watched part of a movie and dozed off. In the middle of the night the contractions started to get more regular, so they started me on pitocin. This morning I was at a 3, so they broke my water.
I'm plugging along with contractions, which are starting to get stronger and more uncomfortable, so I probably won't be blogging for too much longer... at least until I get an epidural.
Roundabout to the Hospital
It's been a whirlwind weekend. On Thursday I went in for my normal OB appointment. I had been really itchy, so I had my blood drawn to check for a condition that I had at the end of my pregnancy with Jackson. During the last few weeks of my pregnancy with Jackson I had cholestasis of pregnancy. It is a rare liver problem that is caused by pregnancy that causes your liver to not process bile properly. Its most recognizable symptom is that it causes you to itch all over, especially on your hands and feet. It's not dangerous to the mother- although it is quite uncomfortable and somewhat inconvenient- but it can be dangerous to the baby and is associated with an increased risk of stillbirth or "unfavorable outcome." When you have this condition they recommend that you induce labor as soon as the baby is full-term or very soon thereafter to avoid risk of any harm to the baby. [This is why Jackson was induced two weeks early.]
On Thursday night I got a call from the doctor saying that the test came back positive and that I needed to come in the next day for an ultrasound and testing. While the ultrasound results were good- the baby looked great and healthy- the recommended course was to induce soon, since I had already passed 37 weeks. So this left Dave and I to decide with the doctor how soon we wanted to induce.
I hate decisions like this because you are trying to balance out factors, risks and statistics, let alone preference and convenience, but there is no way to really know if you are giving weight to the correct thing. So Dave and I sat in the doctor's office trying to decide: Do we get induced sooner or wait for a few more days so the baby will be a little more mature and our doctor will be on duty? After sitting for 45 minutes going back and forth, we decided that we didn't want to take any unneccessary risks, so we were set to go to the hospital on Sat. night (Oct. 3) for a cervix treatment with the induction starting Sunday morning (Oct. 4).
Of course, this suddenly made all of our babysitting plans, etc. for the hospital obsolete. I spent a good portion of the afternoon on the phone trying to figure out who was going to watch the kids. We finally settled that my mom would fly out the next day. She changed her plane tickets and I headed to the store for some last-minute purchases and tried to contain the nervous energy and stress that I felt.
As I was loading bags from the cart into my car, my cell phone rang. It was my doctor again. As she was looking over my chart and filling out the paperwork for the induction, she noticed that on my very first ultrasound the baby measured slightly small. She hadn't changed the due date to be later because she wanted to confirm at the 20 week ultrasound. When the baby had also measured slightly small at the 20 week ultrasound, she had forgotten to go back and change the due date. So that meant that we could be inducing a 36 week old baby, which would put her at a greater risk for lung problems and other issues. So the long and short of it is that we moved my induction to Wed. Oct. 7th, so the baby would be between 37 and 38 weeks, no matter how you calculated it.
So... I called my mom yet again and she booked her third set of plane tickets. This change of date did, thankfully, give us a little bit more time to prepare, but the whole thing made for a very stressful weekend. "You're having a baby in a week and a half!" "No wait, you're having a baby tomorrow!" "Actually you're having a baby in a few days." I thought the whole point of inducing labor was so that you could pick a date and plan around it and make it more stress-free. ;) Right?? If only babies were more cooperative.
On Thursday night I got a call from the doctor saying that the test came back positive and that I needed to come in the next day for an ultrasound and testing. While the ultrasound results were good- the baby looked great and healthy- the recommended course was to induce soon, since I had already passed 37 weeks. So this left Dave and I to decide with the doctor how soon we wanted to induce.
I hate decisions like this because you are trying to balance out factors, risks and statistics, let alone preference and convenience, but there is no way to really know if you are giving weight to the correct thing. So Dave and I sat in the doctor's office trying to decide: Do we get induced sooner or wait for a few more days so the baby will be a little more mature and our doctor will be on duty? After sitting for 45 minutes going back and forth, we decided that we didn't want to take any unneccessary risks, so we were set to go to the hospital on Sat. night (Oct. 3) for a cervix treatment with the induction starting Sunday morning (Oct. 4).
Of course, this suddenly made all of our babysitting plans, etc. for the hospital obsolete. I spent a good portion of the afternoon on the phone trying to figure out who was going to watch the kids. We finally settled that my mom would fly out the next day. She changed her plane tickets and I headed to the store for some last-minute purchases and tried to contain the nervous energy and stress that I felt.
As I was loading bags from the cart into my car, my cell phone rang. It was my doctor again. As she was looking over my chart and filling out the paperwork for the induction, she noticed that on my very first ultrasound the baby measured slightly small. She hadn't changed the due date to be later because she wanted to confirm at the 20 week ultrasound. When the baby had also measured slightly small at the 20 week ultrasound, she had forgotten to go back and change the due date. So that meant that we could be inducing a 36 week old baby, which would put her at a greater risk for lung problems and other issues. So the long and short of it is that we moved my induction to Wed. Oct. 7th, so the baby would be between 37 and 38 weeks, no matter how you calculated it.
So... I called my mom yet again and she booked her third set of plane tickets. This change of date did, thankfully, give us a little bit more time to prepare, but the whole thing made for a very stressful weekend. "You're having a baby in a week and a half!" "No wait, you're having a baby tomorrow!" "Actually you're having a baby in a few days." I thought the whole point of inducing labor was so that you could pick a date and plan around it and make it more stress-free. ;) Right?? If only babies were more cooperative.
Due Date Dilemma
As my due date draws nearer and nearer, the question always hovers, "When should we induce the baby?" I have been induced with all three of my kids. I have really big babies (think 9 lb. 11 oz. and 9 lb. 15 oz.). My last baby was induced two weeks early and still measured 10 lb. 1 oz. I happen to have an unfortunate family history of big babies- both mine and Dave's mom had babies that were over 11 pounds- and my mom had the added plus of always delivering a couple of weeks late. While I have done fine with deliveries so far, I have no desire to see if my body can handle an 11 pound baby or how large my babies would be if I went two weeks overdue. So inductions are a great option for me. It's also kind of nice to be able to plan ahead a little bit and know when you're going to have the baby.
My mom has planned to come out and help with the baby and has been waiting on pins and needles for me to settle on an induction date so she could book her tickets. Just as we got to the point of setting when I was going to be induced, another complication came up. My 91-year old grandpa (my mom's dad) got engaged last month and was set to be married over Thanksgiving in November. But he decided that he couldn't wait that long and so he moved up his wedding date to October 17th... the weekend before my due date. This made it decidedly more complicated because if I was induced a week early (as I planned to be) then my mom would need to be at the wedding at the exact same time that I would need her help. Then it turned out that my OB was going to be out of town for the weekend that we wanted to be induced, so I would have to have someone else deliver the baby. The odds were stacking against us.
After multiple conflicts doomed my preferred induction date, it was finally set for Oct. 16th, only a few days before my actual due date of Oct. 21st. You mean I can't just pick the exact dae when I want to have my baby and make sure it comes then? C'mon, where are the perks of being induced?
My mom has planned to come out and help with the baby and has been waiting on pins and needles for me to settle on an induction date so she could book her tickets. Just as we got to the point of setting when I was going to be induced, another complication came up. My 91-year old grandpa (my mom's dad) got engaged last month and was set to be married over Thanksgiving in November. But he decided that he couldn't wait that long and so he moved up his wedding date to October 17th... the weekend before my due date. This made it decidedly more complicated because if I was induced a week early (as I planned to be) then my mom would need to be at the wedding at the exact same time that I would need her help. Then it turned out that my OB was going to be out of town for the weekend that we wanted to be induced, so I would have to have someone else deliver the baby. The odds were stacking against us.
After multiple conflicts doomed my preferred induction date, it was finally set for Oct. 16th, only a few days before my actual due date of Oct. 21st. You mean I can't just pick the exact dae when I want to have my baby and make sure it comes then? C'mon, where are the perks of being induced?
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Conference Weekend
Last weekend was General Conference. It was nice to have a change from the usual Sunday routine and busy-ness and to get a chance to listen first-hand to messages from our church leaders. As a kid I remember going to one of the Saturday sessions and then going to Winchell's donuts (before the days when you could watch it at home on TV). When Dave and I were first married, conference was one of my favorite times of the year. We would often get the chance to go in person and despite it being 8 hours of meetings over two days, I loved the chance to listen to the talks and music, to focus on spiritual things, to evaluate where I want my life to be going over the next six months and enjoy the family dinners that always capped off Conference weekend.
Not to say that I don't still love Conference, but having children and moving away from family has made it a little bit of a different experience. We live in a different state from both sets of parents, so family dinners have gone by the wayside, and we rarely- if ever- get the chance to go in person, but despite the changes I've tried to create traditions for my kids so it will be a special time for them.
I know there are lots of people like Lara who make homemade cinnamon rolls for conference. That has always sounded like a great tradition, but we have ended up with Monkey Bread as our morning conference treat (refrigerated biscuits with cinnamon sugar and melted butter/brown sugar... much easier for the mom/cook). I always print out a packet with conference-related activities from the internet for the kids. And the kids really do look forward to conference... but I think it's mostly about the Monkey Bread.
It's nice to be able to have a weekend home together, but trying to use conference as an opportunity to focus on the spiritual is much more challenging with kids. Usually the kids start out doing their coloring and puzzles and then phase into some more active pursuit (probably because of the Monkey Bread sugar rush) like tag or wrestling. On Saturday afternoon, I was trying to watch the session and actually comprehend some of what the speaker was saying over the noise and din of the kids playing. They had long since passed the phase where I still attempted to have them sit still and do quiet activities and were having full out wrestling matches, tossing toys across the room and running like... hyper sugar-charged monkeys (anything to do with the Monkey Bread?). I finally had had it, so I pressed pause on the TV and said, "Everyone DOWN TO THE BASEMENT!!! No more noise!! You can go play and be wild but go DOWNSTAIRS!"
Jared and Camryn paused for a moment and looked confused. "But Mom," Jared said, "we can't go downstairs. We'll miss conference!" ("Hmmm... I'm sure you're getting a lot out of it while you toss toys at each other and wrestle.") But hey, at least they wanted to "watch" it (as long as seeing it out of the corner of your eye while you pull your sister to the ground and chuck a pile of putty at the ceiling to see if it will stick is "watching" it). =] One step at a time, I guess.
Not to say that I don't still love Conference, but having children and moving away from family has made it a little bit of a different experience. We live in a different state from both sets of parents, so family dinners have gone by the wayside, and we rarely- if ever- get the chance to go in person, but despite the changes I've tried to create traditions for my kids so it will be a special time for them.
I know there are lots of people like Lara who make homemade cinnamon rolls for conference. That has always sounded like a great tradition, but we have ended up with Monkey Bread as our morning conference treat (refrigerated biscuits with cinnamon sugar and melted butter/brown sugar... much easier for the mom/cook). I always print out a packet with conference-related activities from the internet for the kids. And the kids really do look forward to conference... but I think it's mostly about the Monkey Bread.
It's nice to be able to have a weekend home together, but trying to use conference as an opportunity to focus on the spiritual is much more challenging with kids. Usually the kids start out doing their coloring and puzzles and then phase into some more active pursuit (probably because of the Monkey Bread sugar rush) like tag or wrestling. On Saturday afternoon, I was trying to watch the session and actually comprehend some of what the speaker was saying over the noise and din of the kids playing. They had long since passed the phase where I still attempted to have them sit still and do quiet activities and were having full out wrestling matches, tossing toys across the room and running like... hyper sugar-charged monkeys (anything to do with the Monkey Bread?). I finally had had it, so I pressed pause on the TV and said, "Everyone DOWN TO THE BASEMENT!!! No more noise!! You can go play and be wild but go DOWNSTAIRS!"
Jared and Camryn paused for a moment and looked confused. "But Mom," Jared said, "we can't go downstairs. We'll miss conference!" ("Hmmm... I'm sure you're getting a lot out of it while you toss toys at each other and wrestle.") But hey, at least they wanted to "watch" it (as long as seeing it out of the corner of your eye while you pull your sister to the ground and chuck a pile of putty at the ceiling to see if it will stick is "watching" it). =] One step at a time, I guess.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
The Tooth Fairy
Our family has a very irresponsible tooth fairy. While she always eventually gets the job done, she is known for forgetting to pick up the tooth for a couple of days. Our kids are often left in suspense as to how long it will take our absent-minded fairy to remember to bring them their money.
A few days ago, Jared lost a tooth at school. He brought it home and excitedly showed me the specimen, showcased in all of its glory in a plastic ziploc bag. It didn't really surprise him that the tooth fairy forgot to come that night, but when she hadn't come for a couple of days, he started to get a bit annoyed. One night he said to me, "Mom, the tooth fairy probably isn't even real. Is it you, mom?" I hemmed and hawed and avoided the question. As I went to tuck him into bed that night, out of earshot of his younger sister, he asked, "Mom, are you the tooth fairy? C'mon, you can tell me. It's not a big deal." So I finally confessed that yes, I am the tooth fairy. It's a fun thing that grownups like to pretend to make losing teeth fun for kids. I even still have all the teeth that I've collected from him and Camryn.
I didn't think it was a big deal until a few minutes later. I was rocking Jackson to sleep in his room when the door opened and Jared appeared with tears on his face. "What's wrong?," I asked. He said, "Now that I know that the tooth fairy isn't real it takes all the fun out of it." Now I started to feel bad... Have I scarred my child or made him unable to trust me because of this lapse of truth-telling? Have I broken some unwritten code of parent-hood by admitting to my child that I really am the tooth-taker that leaves money under his pillow? Jared continued, "I mean, if the tooth fairy isn't real, that probably means that Santa isn't real. I bet there really isn't a Santa Claus. There's just some guy at the north pole with a beard that is glued on. Or maybe there's just one Santa for every neighborhood... because it would be impossible to take that many presents...."
I didn't finish the job on the subject of Santa Claus, although maybe I should have- Jared is 8. It's just a little bit sad to see a child outgrow childhood fantasy and magic. I know there are a lot of people that advocate not "lying" to your child by teaching them to believe in Santa Claus or the tooth fairy, but would my childhood really have been better if I had never believed in Santa? I think there is a time and place for fantasy and magic and part of me wishes that we didn't have to outgrow it so quickly.
A day or so later, Jared asked me if he could see all of the teeth that I'd collected over the years, that I'd mentioned earlier. In typical tooth fairy style, it took me a couple of days to get around it, but I finally showed him and he thought it was way cool. Now he really likes the fact that he knows a big secret that Camryn doesn't know and has even seen the secret stash of teeth to prove it. It's cool to be in on a grown-up secret. So maybe I haven't scarred him for life.
A few days ago, Jared lost a tooth at school. He brought it home and excitedly showed me the specimen, showcased in all of its glory in a plastic ziploc bag. It didn't really surprise him that the tooth fairy forgot to come that night, but when she hadn't come for a couple of days, he started to get a bit annoyed. One night he said to me, "Mom, the tooth fairy probably isn't even real. Is it you, mom?" I hemmed and hawed and avoided the question. As I went to tuck him into bed that night, out of earshot of his younger sister, he asked, "Mom, are you the tooth fairy? C'mon, you can tell me. It's not a big deal." So I finally confessed that yes, I am the tooth fairy. It's a fun thing that grownups like to pretend to make losing teeth fun for kids. I even still have all the teeth that I've collected from him and Camryn.
I didn't think it was a big deal until a few minutes later. I was rocking Jackson to sleep in his room when the door opened and Jared appeared with tears on his face. "What's wrong?," I asked. He said, "Now that I know that the tooth fairy isn't real it takes all the fun out of it." Now I started to feel bad... Have I scarred my child or made him unable to trust me because of this lapse of truth-telling? Have I broken some unwritten code of parent-hood by admitting to my child that I really am the tooth-taker that leaves money under his pillow? Jared continued, "I mean, if the tooth fairy isn't real, that probably means that Santa isn't real. I bet there really isn't a Santa Claus. There's just some guy at the north pole with a beard that is glued on. Or maybe there's just one Santa for every neighborhood... because it would be impossible to take that many presents...."
I didn't finish the job on the subject of Santa Claus, although maybe I should have- Jared is 8. It's just a little bit sad to see a child outgrow childhood fantasy and magic. I know there are a lot of people that advocate not "lying" to your child by teaching them to believe in Santa Claus or the tooth fairy, but would my childhood really have been better if I had never believed in Santa? I think there is a time and place for fantasy and magic and part of me wishes that we didn't have to outgrow it so quickly.
A day or so later, Jared asked me if he could see all of the teeth that I'd collected over the years, that I'd mentioned earlier. In typical tooth fairy style, it took me a couple of days to get around it, but I finally showed him and he thought it was way cool. Now he really likes the fact that he knows a big secret that Camryn doesn't know and has even seen the secret stash of teeth to prove it. It's cool to be in on a grown-up secret. So maybe I haven't scarred him for life.
Cantico Women in Concert
Last Friday night, the ladies from the Cantico (the choir I co-direct) performed at "An Evening of the Arts," a concert for the American Mothers Association. We sang "How Do I Love Thee?" one of the songs from the concert we gave in May. Unfortunately the camera that was recording it died about 30 seconds before the end, but at least it can give you a taste of our fun performance.
And yes... three out of eight of us are in our third trimester of pregnancy. =]
And yes... three out of eight of us are in our third trimester of pregnancy. =]
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