The Great Getaway

I have always appreciated alone time, but yesterday was one of those days when that time couldn’t come quickly enough. It just came in the form of a trip my pre-kid self never would’ve counted as a getaway. Kenna decided that right before naptime would be the appropriate time to throw a massive tantrum. What was the cause? She wanted to pick out the Captain America book to read before going to sleep. Why couldn’t she pick it out? Because her brother already had. But here’s the kicker: we were all going to read the book together. It wasn’t like she would be missing out on the wonderful literature that the book is. That didn’t matter to her 3-year-old mind. She just cared that she wasn’t the one who got to get it off the bookshelf and hold it. I started off by trying to understand and reason with her. That got us nowhere. So then she was given a choice: choose a different book or go to bed immediately. She finally calmed down enough for us to read together, but as soon as reading time was over, she lost it again.

Long story short, for a total of two hours, she cried and threw a fit. No matter the approach I attempted to take, including letting her wear herself out, it wasn’t working. In the meantime, I had a baby who needed to nurse, a son who wanted me to lay with him for a few minutes, a dishwasher that needed to be emptied, dirty dishes that needed to be loaded, laundry to attend to, a work call to make, emails to return and countless other tasks that have not gotten my attention for the last few weeks. Couple that with the fact that I haven’t gotten a solid night’s sleep in months and I was at my breaking point.

Thankfully Kenna’s tantrum finally came to an end. What made it stop? A phone call from her dad. About to lose it myself, I called Matt and told him what was going on. He said he’d talk to her. Now, I know she listens better to him when he’s home than she does me (which is irritating enough), but really? Would talking to her over the phone work? Yes, in fact it did. She quieted down and fell asleep. While I was relieved that she had stopped crying, I was less than thrilled by the fact that she listened to her dad over the phone better than she did to me who was in front of her.

So, irritated and emotionally spent, I put on my coat and headed out the door shortly after Matt got home. I needed some space and some breathing room. Where did I go? To the grocery store. I never thought I would view a grocery shopping trip as a chance to getaway, but with days like yesterday, you sometimes have to change your standards and find your peace in less obvious places.

Au Revoir, Newborn Fears

I’ll be honest; I’m not much of a newborn fan. At least generally speaking. I prefer the stage when they get a bit older, more interactive and independent. Or at least that’s how it has been in the past. When Jonas was born, I was overwhelmed and afraid. I didn’t know what to do with this little, helpless, crying kid. I feared the day when Matt’s paternity leave would end and I’d be left alone with this little creature. Of course that day eventually came and I somehow figured things out, though I was a bit tentative and uneasy at first. 

When Kenna came along, I was still worn out from Jonas. I wasn’t really sure I was up for another baby, but we wanted them to be two years apart. Jonas was such a bad sleeper that I was still exhausted from him. Nevertheless, Kenna joined us and then we decided to put our house on the market when she was only a few months old. That meant I was especially exhausted and much of her babyhood is a bit of a blur to me.

I didn’t know if I was ready for a third child, but away we went. Would I remember what to do with a newborn? Would I be able to survive on less-than-ideal sleep? Then Adelyn was born. From day one, I felt at ease. Sure some of it was knowing how to change a diaper, initiate nursing and care for the umbilical cord. I’d been there and done that. I have enjoyed her first three weeks more that I did with the other two babies combined. Gone are the hesitations and even the exhaustion I felt with the first two. Don’t get me wrong; I’m still tired, but it’s different.

I know some of the reason for the change is because I am more experienced now. Plus, Adelyn is a laid back baby who sleeps pretty well for a newborn. But also I know that this is our last newborn (unless God has other plans for us). So I’m enjoying it while I can. At the end of pregnancy when I was huge and heavy, I tried to revel in those last moments of pregnancy, knowing I wouldn’t experience it again. I’m glad I took notice because I admit I miss feeling those baby movements.

And so, while I do still look forward to the day when our family of five can go on a vacation and build memories that all of us will recall, I’m not going to wish away this newborn stage. I’m going to enjoy it. I’m going to look at how cute those little feet are and be amazed by the tininess of her ears. I’m going to sit with her and hold her as much as possible, and comfort her when she cries. I’m going to relax and nurse her while I can because soon enough these days will be far behind us. While that means I might be sleeping through the night, it also means I won’t have a cuddly little infant grasping my finger and looking to me for care and comfort.

Newborn Valentine’s Day

What do I want this Valentine’s Day?  
First, put the jewelry and flowers away.  
There is no need for a mushy greeting.  
And chocolates are so fleeting.  
Besides I have plenty of weight to drop  
And my diet is already enough of a flop.  
No reservations or dinner plans, please.  
After all I'm covered in spit up down to my knees.  
Don't make me shower or try to look nice.  
Anything romantic I would not advise.  
Instead these two things I do implore:  
A nap and a maid to mop the floor.  
Just let me hold the baby and ignore all the rest.  
With a newborn to care for, this would be best.

Birth Story: Third Time’s a Charm…In a Manner of Speaking

This being my third pregnancy, you’d think I was a pro at giving birth. Well, after my 16-hour labor with number one, you’d think that would earn me some sort of pro status. Even still, I know that every birth is different and that scared me. Going in to my third pregnancy, I had certain reservations because my first two had gone so well. Could I be so lucky once again? I felt my time was running out. Not to mention the fact that my open-mindedness from my first pregnancy was becoming a lot more closed off. I did a good amount of research for my first and had a good sense for what I hoped for in the birth. But having done far more reading and fact gathering, my mind was beginning to close off and strongly oppose certain options I had previously been open to. I began to have this feeling that if things didn’t go as planned, I would somehow be disappointed and left to deal with those emotions post-partum. So how did it all turn out? Let’s start at the beginning….

On Wednesday, January 25 (five days before my due date) I woke up with mild contractions around 2:00 a.m. They came off and on without much regularity or intensity. I tried my best to sleep, but knowing that this meant the end was near, task lists and details began running through my head. I got little sleep that night. The contractions did not increase at all as I went about my day. I hesitated telling anyone because I assumed I still had plenty of time. I did tell my husband before he left for work and I also called my mom. With having to make plans for the whereabouts of the two older kids, I needed to at least inform a few people. But I refrained from making any Facebook status updates. After all, I had a history of going post-due. Would this child really come before the due date?

Around 9:00 p.m. they began to come more regularly, but were still not intense. I started to think that perhaps the baby would be arriving soon since both my first labors had followed this same pattern of early morning contractions followed by little action the next day and then active labor that night. But I was still having a difficult time making a decision as to whether or not the grandparents should get in place for the kids. I had a fear that this wasn’t going to progress into active labor and then my parents would’ve had a sleepless night on our couches for no reason. At 11:30 p.m., I was still being indecisive, but called Mom anyway. We finally decided it would be best if they came up since it would take an hour for them to get here and we didn’t want things to progress faster than they could drive.

Around 1:30 a.m., my parents were in place and we headed to bed. I slept for about an hour when sleep no longer became an option. My contractions were growing in intensity and coming more frequently though their spacing was not completely consistent. They would be 7 minutes followed by 10 minutes apart and then down to 5 minutes. Back and forth they’d go. So, I laid there, breathing through them, still in denial that I was heading into active labor. Finally around 4:30 a.m., I woke Matt to say that he should probably get dressed because we might want to consider going to the hospital at some point. Yes, I was still indecisive even though they were getting to be as close as 4 minutes apart. The thing is, the pain was tolerable. I was still breathing through them. I had begun rocking and swaying to ease through them, but in between, I was still talking and joking just fine. My history had been that once into active labor, I stopped talking and shut out the world around me until delivery.

After getting dressed and packing my bag, the contractions had slowed slightly, so instead of heading out the door, we watched an episode of “30 Rock.” I might’ve missed a joke or two here or there, but otherwise I was still focusing on the show. If it weren’t for the fact that my contraction counter app was saying the contractions were back down to 4 minutes apart, I probably would’ve fired up another show. Instead, we decided to head to the hospital.

On the way there, one of my fears began to come true. To this day, I am certain that part of the reason my first labor was so long is because I went to the hospital too soon, which caused me to stall. After reading Ina May Gaskin’s thoughts on the sphincter law, I understand how such a transition can cause labor to actually reverse to a certain degree. I still wonder how things would’ve gone differently with my first delivery had I stayed home longer. So, when my contractions slowed with this one and I had only one on the way there, I was afraid we were regressing. While it was great that I wasn’t squirming and contorting my body the entire way to the hospital, it was upsetting because that meant the last two contractions were 10 minutes apart. I began to wonder if we’d made the wrong call. Should we have watched more Hulu before heading in?

We walked into the hospital at 5:30 a.m. I was still clear minded and able to talk. Again, I doubted whether or not this was for real. In triage, I was able to answer all of the nurse’s questions and even cracked a few jokes. When I arrived during labor #2, I was near transition and was 9.5 cm dilated. There was no joking at that point. When the resident finally checked me, I was very relieved to hear I was 7 cm and would be heading to my birthing room soon. And the tub was already being prepared for me.

The tub was part of my birth plan. I had labored in it with #1 for a long time, but got out before delivering. I wanted to attempt a water birth with #2, but she arrived too quickly to even make it into the tub. The nurse asked if I wanted to just labor or actually birth in the water. I told her definitely labor, but I still wasn’t sure about birthing. She went on to encourage me to try a water birth. She said it was really amazing. I was so impressed that she was actually recommending a water birth. That put me at ease for being in the hospital where hands-on interventions can oftentimes trump natural experiences.

The tub was ready for me once we got into the delivery room. My midwife hadn’t arrived yet, but the nurse helped me into the tub. The water felt great and offered some relief as my contractions gained intensity. Even still, I was talking in between contractions and at times thinking to myself, “Okay, let’s get this show on the road and have this baby already.” Then transition hit.

I had horrendous back labor with my first two pregnancies. So far, the back labor hadn’t hit with this one. But once I entered transition, I began to feel it with full force. I had taken somewhat of a squatting position in the tub, leaning over the backside of it, so Matt could rub my lower back through each contraction. This was his main role in the first two labors and we joked that he nearly rubbed off his fingerprints during both. By this time, my midwife had arrived, but was with another woman who was near delivering. We were told to pull the call button cord if I felt the urge to push. A nurse came in and out of the room, but for the most part, it was the two of us just hanging out, waiting for our baby and it suited us just fine. Having been through this before, we knew how to work our way through it as a team.

By now I had begun vocalizing during contractions. This was all new to me, but it helped give me release. I was embarrassed at first. After all, the door to my room was open and I thought I would scare off any laboring woman who had any inkling of trying for a natural birth. After hearing me, there was probably an increased demand for epidurals. And then the urge came on.

I had reached that point in labor when I was done. I didn’t know if I could deal with it anymore. Should I give in and get a shot of Nubain? I had in the past, but it had never done anything for me. Could I hang on? But what if I still had an hour to go? But then the urge to push hit. Mid-contraction I yelled, “Pull the cord!” Not thinking Matt heard me the first time (though I was certainly less than quiet about it), I yelled it again. He assured me that he had pulled it and in a moment two nurses and my midwife were by my side. With the jets on in the tub, I couldn’t hear well. I thought the midwife was telling me to push. So I did. I realized later that I hadn’t been checked since I was admitted. How did I (or the midwife) know if I was complete? Well, my body knew well enough because I began pushing, which was such a relief. They asked me if I wanted to get out of the tub. At that point, I was focused on one thing: having this baby. I didn’t want to be moved. I was good where I was. Suddenly I felt the baby descending followed by my water breaking. Being able to push made the contractions so much more bearable. I had something to do, a goal and an end in sight. With some good, strong pushes, the baby was born at 7:42 a.m. on January 26.

The midwife declared, “It’s a girl!” and placed Adelyn Grace on my chest—all 8 lbs. 3 oz. and 21.5 in. of her (not too shabby for being 4 days ahead of schedule). Adelyn let out a few small whimpers and then began to fall asleep. She was so at peace, or as her name means, serene. We stayed in the tub for a while, waiting for the cord to stop pulsing. As I held Adelyn in my arms, the midwife cleaned us up and soon we were moving to the bed. As I stood, I was amazed by how good I felt. In fact, I did not require any pain relief even after birth. Sure my body needed rest and relaxation, but otherwise I felt great. The hospital gave us ample time and space to bond. We stayed in the room for a few hours. I ordered breakfast and Adelyn nursed. And nursed. And nursed.

Looking back, I am still amazed by a few things: how quickly it all went, how smooth it was, how little assistance we really needed, how peaceful she was at birth, what a great nurser she was from the start and how great I felt once labor ended. I soon realized my initial fears and hesitations were for naught. And I also realized how blessed I have been to have had the births I’ve had.

The Perfect Man

The portrait of a perfect man: Matt when Jonas was a newborn.

As much advice and wisdom I have, I do my best not to share it all the time. Instead, I keep it to myself unless first asked. Well, sometimes. But recently I had a moment when I had to share a bit of wisdom that could forever change the path of one girl’s life and ultimate choice of a husband.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to our babysitter who is a senior in high school. She was asking about our preparations for the baby. Somehow the conversation went to diapers and how Matt has always handled the late night changes, while I do the feedings. She said, “Wow! He changes diapers.” My response was just about as astonishing. I mean, this kid is half his, so of course he’d do diapers. There is no other option. But then I realized that not everyone is as fortunate as me. Not everyone has a partner who pitches in and helps out, especially in the middle of the night. And so, I had to lend her a bit of advice. I looked her squarely in the eyes and said with all honesty, “When you are dating a guy, find out if he does diapers. If not, forget him. Hollywood romance doesn’t matter. But having a guy who does late-night changings does.”

I know she didn’t ask me for love life advice, but I felt it was a bit of information that had to be shared. And I’m sure some day she will thank me for it.

Pregnancy Annoyances

I’m just a few short weeks away from my due date. As with my first two babies, I’m in no rush to see the pregnancy end. I find babies are more portable and easier to care for in utero, so I don’t mind letting them chill out and take their time coming into the world. It also helps that I have had very smooth and uneventful pregnancies. If I were more uncomfortable, perhaps I’d be in more of a rush. Thankfully I’ve avoided the typical pregnancy complaints, such as morning sickness, indigestion, varicose veins, etc. But I have to admit that there are a few annoyances that I look forward to not having to deal with once the little one arrives. Those include:

• Having to constantly pull up my pants and pull down my shirt as my belly does its best to fight its way out.
• Being able to wash only a few dishes at the sink before my back begins to hurt from having to hunch over to reach the faucet.
• Getting winded going up the stairs.
• Exerting a decent amount of effort just to roll over at night.
• Debating how badly I need to retrieve an item if it falls on the floor, as opposed to leaving it there until one of the kids can get it.
• Balancing carefully and with great caution as I quickly try to put on my socks…and pray it works on the first attempt.
• Grunting when I stand up, sit down or sometimes move in general.
• Exploding ankles that are the size of my calves. Thank goodness it’s not shorts season.

Even still, those annoyances are nothing compared to what some women experience. So, I suppose I’ll waddle my way through the next few weeks, all the while hiking up my pants and enjoying these last moments of being pregnant.

Style Defined

"Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not caring what anyone else says." ~ Gore Vidal

Kenna has a style and flare all her own. She can sport a pink frilly dress one moment, a Super Girl costume the next and something from her brother’s closet by the end of the day. She wears them all with confidence and pride. But it’s not really about the outer appearance. It’s the spark, conviction and thirst for life that exudes from her core that is so captivating. I know part of it is childhood innocence, but it’s a confidence I hope she doesn’t lose as she grows older. If she can hang on to that self-assurance, it will serve her well in the future, as well as anyone who happens upon her path.

Here’s to self-confidence, to beauty that bursts from the inside, to exuberance, to a glass that’s always full, and a life that is always new, exciting, thrilling and beautiful. And here’s to having the courage to never let it go.