Baby #3, Part One: Labor and Delivery Story.

This post has been deleted by it's author. (Me)  


I decided that I for one don't really want to remember all this, unless I am ever in need of some birth control or something.  And after just the first comment, I realize that it probably isn't the most inspiring thing for others to read --especially if they want to have children.  If you are really curious about the nitty gritty details, just email me for the whole story.


That said, I do have a few things to say.  


1. Epidurals are great.


2. Miracles do happen. And they happen nearly every day in maternity wards. (Oh, and miracle of miracles, I passed the stone without even knowing it right after the baby was born!)


3. I am so grateful for modern medicine.


4. Yes, it is worth it.

Oh Baby, Here We Go!

So, I'm not going to write much, since I should be getting as much sleep as possible, but I thought I'd mention that I'm going in for an induction tomorrow.  Eeeek!


I hate to rush him, but at the same time I'm measuring big, the first ultrasound put my due date around this time --even though calendarwise it worked out to be two weeks later (they say that the first ultrasound is more accurate than the traditional 'first day of your last period' thing though), and I really feel like he wants out.  He is such a strong little thing.  


Is it selfish of me to want the pain to go away and to have three weeks instead of two before we move?  I actually feel okay about my decision, I just wish I could get a little more prepared but the pain prevents it.  Oh well, I guess my shower doesn't absolutely have to be scrubbed before this baby comes does it? All week I've hardly been able to walk.  


One tender mercy though was that I was able to go shopping this morning to make sure there was food in my house so that my family wouldn't starve, and I even felt good enough to cut everyone's hair --which won't happen again for a long time.  I also managed to get all the laundry done yesterday.  Maybe the baby was going to come tomorrow anyway, and this is the fabled burst of energy before you go into labor people talk about.  Or... it could be that Vicadin works better than Percocet for me.   Either way, I feel a little better about things, and I'm way more calm knowing that I'm not going to have to worry about all those scenarios I talked about in an earlier post.  I know where my husband will be, and I have people set up to come take care of the kids and such for the next couple of days.  Yay!  And did I mention that I'll get the stone and the stent out and have one more week to recover before we move?

Maybe it's a little silly, but I actually wanted the baby to come in August, simply because there are so many July birthdays in the family, and no August birthdays on my side of the family at all.  Oh well.

I do feel that this is the right decision for us at this time, and although having a baby isn't easy (and I don't just mean the labor part --I actually despise the first few weeks of sleeplessness and being sore and engorged and such) I have faith that everything will work out fine.  


I am excited to meet little whatever-his-name-is (gee, we better start really thinking about that) and to hold him in my arms; to recognize his movements that I've felt inside for the past few months (which were very spastic), and to see his spirit struggle in a much smaller body than it was made for as he realizes that he had no idea what he was getting in to when he decided to enter mortality.  


No wonder they cry, and yet, there's such a feeling of hope, and endless possibilities, and determination to succeed that emanates from them.  


I also anticipate the pure helplessness of his state, and the absolute dependency he will have on me, accompanied by the realization of the significance of the responsibility and trust that has been given me. Still, I can't wait to feel his warm fuzzy head on my chest, and see that celestial little glow in his eyes, like he wants to tell me something he can't about heaven, and help me feel and understand the love our Heavenly Father has for us.  


Babies are such miracles, and though childbirth is one of the most natural, basic, animal experiences, it is also very transcendent and holy.  


Yeah, I'm ready for this.


Wish me luck, and thank you for all your sweet prayers on our behalf.  

Doesn't get much bigger than this!
Yeah, can't wait to post cute baby pictures instead of miserable preggo pictures.

Happy Thoughts

I've been feeling a little down lately, so last night when I couldn't sleep, I decided to think up a list of things that make me happy.  I thought of a lot of things, many of them universal to most people by virtue of the thing (i.e. service, homemade bread, sunsets, etc), but I decided I would share a short list of some of the more original ones I came up with.  Here's a weirdly random sample of things that for some reason or another make me happy, give me pleasure, thrill me, help me feel contented and grateful, make me smile, and generally lift my spirits... in a very personal and quirky sort of way of course.




Finishing off the milk in the bottom of a bowl of sugary cereal, and then adding fresh, ice-cold milk to the bowl to wash it down.


The sensation of a cat rubbing up against my newly shaven legs.


The smell of Chlorine.


Mud squishing between my toes.


The cool underside of my pillow on a hot night.


The color of fresh blueberry juice... and sprinkling dishwasher detergent on the spills to make it turn green, just for fun.


The word Periwinkle.


Bare feet on a warm sidewalk after dark.


Breaking ice bubbles on frozen puddles.


Cedarwood smoke in the fall.

Pulling rocks out of the tread on shoes or tires.

Moonlight.

Pine-scented breezes.


75 degree weather.


Silky pajamas.

Brand-new baby smell.

Okay, so some of those may be more universal than I give credit, but I had to add them because I like to think I enjoy them in a keenly personal way.  There's more where that came from, and perhaps I'll add to my list from time to time.


I wish this post was more visually appealing.


I'll add some of the cooler photos I've taken over the past few years.

$5 Chair

When my husband and I were first married, we were at the DI and saw this fantastically ugly pink chair for only $5.  As a joke, I sat down in it, and was actually amazed at how comfortable it was.  Since we were short on furniture in our tiny apartment, I talked him into buying it.  After all, it was only $5, and we could get rid of it at any time --like when we moved to a better place and got real furniture (Ha!), or I could possibly re-cover it.


Well, the chair stayed.  I discovered right after I had my first baby and the subsequent healing that went with third degree tearing (I know,TMI --sorry), that it was the only chair in the house soft enough for me to sit in (in fact I would tote the cushion around with me wherever I went in the house), and it also turned out to be the perfect height and shape for nursing in.  I actually tried replacing it, but no other chair would do.  So with every one of our 11 moves it has come with us.  I still hated the color, but really had no idea how to reupholster things.  The shape especially intimidated me.

BEFORE.   I forgot to take a 'before' picture until after the cushion had been covered.

For more than four years it has been an eyesore and the kids have added to it's colorful character via crayons and pens, (I think it also still had spit-up stains from both babies too) but alas, no more!  My lovely sister came and pretty much reupholstered it all by herself for me!  All I did was pick out the fabric (which I also needed guidance with, so my wonderful sister-in-law took me where I needed to go and pretty much held my hand the whole way.  I'm so helpless).  It's nothing fancy, just functional ...and not pink!  Yay!  So now, technically it's a $20 chair, adding just what the fabric cost, but it's worth much more to me, and will forever be a symbol of the kind and charitable acts of loving sisters.  Isn't it so much better?

AFTER. (With flash)

(With natural light.) It's actually a lot darker green in real life. These pictures do not do it justice.

A Pain in the... Side?

So, of all those pregnancy fears, I never thought of one scenario that played out this weekend.  It doesn't involve labor and delivery though, in case you were getting excited.  We still had a middle of the night emergency, and I still ended up going to the E.R. and my husband still had to get work off for two days, but no, there's no baby to show for it.


Saturday, I woke up with a suspicious pain in my right side, more in the back.  I was pretty sure, it wasn't my appendix, and I vaguely remembered having a similar pain when I had kidney stone pains during my second pregnancy (never passed, just went away on its own), but it wasn't too bad, and I hoped I had just slept funny and my back was kinked or something --which is likely, since we sleep on a futon mattress in the middle of our living room floor these days.


Luckily, it mostly went away, and I had a very productive day.  I have to admit, I still suspected something was up, so I figured I should make the most of feeling well.  I cleaned the house, my sister even came over and helped me reupholster our ugly pink chair (pictures will be coming soon), and we took the kids to the swimming pool that night.  I figured that floating in warm water would make whatever back muscles that were bothering me relax, but by the time we got out of there, I was done.  I made a few calls, to see what my options were if I happened to have a kidney stone and the pain got unbearable, but I really hoped it would just go away.


Long story short, at about 3:00 in the morning, I decided that we needed to go to the hospital.  I really didn't want to, especially since that meant getting the kids up and dragging them out in the middle of the night, which made me feel so guilty, but I couldn't handle it anymore. The kids did great, and though they looked like little zombies, they never went back to sleep.  My husband stayed in the car with them while I checked myself in, and when I was settled, he took them back home.


It was a long day.  I was put on an IV for  pain medication.  The morphine they gave me, took a bit of the edge off, but I was still in pain.  They tried Demerol, which just made me feel really loopy, but didn't change the pain that much.  I was so tired too, that combined, I was talking like a drunk person and could barely keep my eyes from going cross-eyed. Still, I couldn't sleep for the pain.


They finally did an ultrasound --which was actually quite painful since she had to really dig down to follow my ureter-- and lo and behold they found a 7 MILLIMETER KIDNEY STONE!


I felt suddenly validated.


All my fears that I was just being a baby over nothing vanished.  I did have a good reason to be there, to wake my kids up in the middle of the night, and I was actually proud of how long I had lasted.  Now I just hoped I hadn't done too much damage by being stubborn and waiting so long.


The OB on call was the midwife from my clinic, and she had hopes that I could pass it with enough fluids, and that if they could manage the pain through oral meds, I could go home.  If I couldn't pass it on my own, the best they could do for a pregnant woman would be to put in a stent until after the baby is born and then remove the stone later.


Well, for some reason, I started to feel better, and they gave me oral Vicadin (sp?) to see if that could control the pain so I could go home.  (As I mentioned though, I was already feeling better before the meds, but they decided to think of it as their success anyway --I wasn't convinced.) My husband and a friend came to give me a priesthood blessing, and although I was really hoping to hear the words that I could pass it on my own and be free of pain, I'm afraid that's not what was in store for me.  It was more a blessing of comfort, and that we would find out more about how to deal with this problem and be able to make the best decisions concerning it.  So much for what I knew.  I'm glad to know that God understands things better.  Read on.


 I stayed overnight, so they could keep an eye on me and the baby, and in the morning, I was feeling pretty good, so they let me go with a prescription for Percocet for the pain, and some stool softener (to fix the problem that all these painkillers were causing).  Since it had been Sunday, I hadn't been able to talk to the Urologist, but they told me to go home and set up and appointment with him for that same day and they would fax my info to his office for him to assess.


A few hours later, I got an urgent call from the urologist who had just gotten my ultrasound and other info.  First, he asked why they ever let me leave the E.R., then he said that he wanted me back there to meet him in the O.R. so they could put the stent in immediately.  Apparently whoever read the ultrasound before didn't realize that a 7mm stone would never budge on its own, and that the ureter from my right kidney was completely blocked, which if left untreated would cause the kidney to become infected, or eventually shut down altogether.  I asked why I wasn't feeling any pain even though I hadn't taken any medication since early that morning, and he replied that that was actually a bad sign --that my kidney was most likely becoming numb, which is a precursor to shutting down.  Ack!  (By the way, I'm really not blaming my OB doctors for anything, they did their best.)


So, we went back.  Pre-op had a really hard time finding a vein for my IV--especially one that hadn't already been poked recently, and I was beginning to feel like a human pincushion.  The biggest concern was that the procedure would cause me to go into labor, and another major concern was that because I had eaten too recently (since it was sort of short notice), the anesthesia would cause me to choke or aspirate something, or stop breathing, etc. so, I wasn't put all the way out.  I was merely made numb from the rib cage down.  Because I'm pregnant, I wasn't given any kind of sedation, nor was I given whatever they give you to forget the whole thing --which always weirded me out anyway.  I was completely conscious and aware for the most part. Of course, I couldn't move or feel a thing --which was good, but also really, really unnerving.  I have to admit, when the anesthesiologist gave me the shot of Lidocaine, he hit something that sent a painful shock through my leg, it felt like getting struck by lightning.  That sent me over the top, and after after being tough for so long, all barriers broke down, and I started crying.  I couldn't stop really, and it was kind of embarrassing since it didn't hurt but for a moment.  It was just the shock of it all, and of course, I was exhausted, and then all my worries about whether the baby was okay and such came to mind, and I just couldn't stop crying.  The sensation of being completely helpless and numb didn't help things, and then I started having a hard time breathing.  I was on my back, so this big ole' baby and uterus was sitting on my lungs, but only half of my lung muscles were in operation.  It took all my concentration just to make sure that I wasn't going to stop breathing.  At least, that's how it felt to me.  I guess in a way it was good, because it distracted me enough to stop crying, and to ignore whatever else was going on beyond that big belly of mine.


It was actually a very quick procedure, and they had me out of there sooner than I expected.  It took a while for the numbness to wear off, and I have to say I have just a little more empathy for paraplegics.  The weirdest sensation was to feel my belly, and have the baby kick my hand, but not be able to feel it from the inside too.  I guess that's what everyone feels when they ask to feel the baby kicking, but to me, it was so detached and foreign that it really fascinated me in an unsettling kind of way.  I admit it was a relief to feel him moving in there though.


They kept me overnight again, to make sure that I didn't go into labor, keeping me hooked up to all sorts of monitors and having me sleep in a bed that was made for labor and delivery --not for sleeping in.  Needless to say, it was a long night.  The nurse offered me Ambien to help me sleep, but I don't think it would have helped considering all the times I had to get up to go pee since I am pregnant, and pushing the fluids, and had been on IV's for two days straight.  Ugh.


In the morning, I was feeling very little pain (except for a throbbing headache, and being sore and achy from having to sleep on my back, half sitting up, in that horrible bed), and they said I could go home anytime.  However, the thought of going home to sleep on a futon in the middle of our living room didn't seem very restful to me, so I asked if I could just stay there and sleep for a few more hours without any monitors or IVs or anyone even bothering me for my vitals.  They were very understanding, and said that I could stay as long as I wanted, and that they would even keep room service from bothering me.  They unhooked me from everything (I was so happy to get away from those itchy belts!) and I was able to roll over and go to sleep!  --Of course, after I had a hearty breakfast.  I finally came home after getting a few hours of sleep and another good meal (that I didn't have to cook, which always makes things taste better.  Although, I have to say, that the food there was really good.  If I hadn't been in so much pain, and if I hadn't had a huge baby taking up all the room in my stomach I probably would have enjoyed it even more.  Honestly though, the cheesecake was divine, and I viewed it as a small consolation for all that I had been through in the past few days.  I also had to laugh when I saw that I could order a Buffalo Burger from the menu.  Only in Wyoming...)


The kids had been a little thrown off by the whole thing, and though my husband did a wonderful job of taking care of them and the house, I could tell that everyone was glad that I was home.  So was I.


I'm still not out of the woods yet.  I've still got some pain, which could be from any number of reasons, and the stone still has to come out at some point.  I hope it doesn't cause any extra pain or complications during childbirth, (as if I needed any more scenarios to worry about) but the plan is to use lithotripsy to break up the stone into tiny pieces using shockwaves, right after the baby is born --like while I'm still in the delivery room, and hopefully that will be the end of it.


So that's my kidney stone saga, and all I can do is pray that everything will come to a quick and positive conclusion.

The Waiting Game

Who needs a preggo picture of me when my youngest can imitate me just fine?

About this time in all my pregnancies, I start freaking myself out about possible scenarios that could arise when I actually go into labor.  


With my first, I was not only on bed rest, but my husband was having to work a summer job nearly 2 hours away during the week and only able to come home on weekends.  Luckily, I had my in-laws nearby to take care of me, but still...  I just knew I was going to go into labor in the middle of the night --a stormy night no less-- where he'd have to drive over a treacherous pass and possibly die, or else I would have the baby when he was working out of cell phone range and he'd miss the whole thing... and of course my mind came up with many other such scenarios.  As it was, his car broke down on one occasion, and my refrigerator died that same day (and they kept telling me to not stress myself out. Ha!) But things got fixed, and as far as the labor and delivery went... I ended up going a week over and got induced, so there were no surprises there.  


With my second, I worried about how my toddler would handle things, and although we had family around to take care of him, I remember writing up a huge and very detailed schedule --to keep things routine and predictable, of course-- and list of meal options that I knew he would eat so he wouldn't starve.  (I'm really not a control freak.  In fact it makes me laugh to look at how anal that list was.)  In addition to worrying about that transition (which in the end was probably harder for me than anyone else) I also worried that the baby would come when my husband was teaching his first day of class (which was scheduled the same day as my due date) and make things complicated.  However, everything worked out perfectly.  I woke up on a beautiful Sunday --the day before my due date-- at about 4 in the morning with regular contractions, called my husband's parents by five, had time to pack my hospital bag (I know, shame on me for putting it off) and take a quick shower --I even shaved my legs, and left the house by 6:30 with the in-laws perfectly capable of taking care of my son (who, though a little confused, was really delighted to see them, and for weeks afterward kept hoping they would be there when he woke up).  And, I should mention that though the schedule was lost, he didn't die from missing a nap or a snack, or eating nothing but sweets all day (I'm exaggerating here, I have no idea what he ate, but in the end it didn't matter). The baby was born by 3 in the afternoon, and my husband was able to go back home and put our toddler to bed (which was the part of his schedule I worried about most) and teach his classes the next morning just fine.


So now with number three, do I have worries?  With less than three weeks to go, you bet I do! I still worry about going into labor when my husband is working out of cell phone range and having to drive myself and the kids to the hospital or something, or having him around but ending up giving birth in the back of our minivan because we don't live two minutes from the hospital like we always did before... I have lots more where that came from, but in addition to labor and delivery fears, did I mention that we're supposed to move to a different state less than two weeks after my due date and I haven't found a place to live yet...?  Yikes!


Really, I should take comfort in how the Lord has taken care of us in the past.   Deep down, I know that things will work out --and even if they don't, they'll still work out.  That's actually my husband's motto, and although it annoyed me at first, it's always rung true, reminding me that although things may not go as ideally as we plan, God is in charge and whatever He chooses to put us through will either turn out better than we had imagined, or at least be for our good.