Not Being Pregnant

Is so great. I can sleep, I can turn over, and maybe one day I can stop being fat. Also I have a great baby. Oh man, it's really the best. Poor Aaron tries not to be sad when I tell him I'm not making any more babies, that we are going to adopt the rest.

Baby Sammy's Home Birth Story

Warning: this may contain details which you may consider TMI. Also it's real long. Read at your own risk.

Perhaps timeline style is the best choice for this story.

Thursday 12/10/09:
7:20pm First contraction. They alternate between 40 and 20 min apart. When I go to bed they become an hour apart. By morning they are gone.

Friday 12/11/09:
7:40pm Contraction. Follow exact pattern as Thursday except don't call midwife because what if they stop again. They stop, just like Thursday.

Saturday 12/12/09:
One stronger contraction in the night. I have re-given up on actually making a baby come out of me.

Sunday 12/13/09:
Extremely frustrated. By one count I am two weeks overdue. By another just a week. By the ultrasound just two days. Can't imagine being pregnant another week, hating the thought of Aaron going back to work the next day. Around 8 or 9pm contractions start again. Have them every hour or so through the night, skipping only the 4am hour.

Monday 12/14/09:
Since contractions did not stop during the night, Aaron decides to stay home. Maybe a baby will come out after all. Spent the day resting, contractions jump around from 20 minutes to 40 minutes and all around. Talk to midwife. She convinces me it's normal. I am still not happy, even though they aren't horrifyingly painful. I am just tired of waiting.

Around 10 we decide to go to bed, contractions are about 15-20 min apart. I lay down and can't sleep, as the pain is getting worse. Luckily Aaron goes right to sleep. By 11:30 I get up, as I am not sleeping anyway, I may as well watch TV right? I spend the contractions leaning on the birthing/exercise ball and rocking back and forth, focusing on my breathing. This is really funny to me because with Harmon all I ever was focusing on was not dying. And, after his birth if someone would have told me (as many sources did before) that I should have focused on breathing, I would have likely chopped them. At any rate, breathing was doing the trick this time.

At 1am my contractions had moved down to around 6-10 min apart, and I noticed that I was zoning out during them, instead of being able to at least follow what was going on on tv. I decided to call the midwife, just to check in again. I also felt stupid because I didn't want to be the girl who cried "labor" for the billionth time. (There was also the time a few weeks ago that I thought my water may have broken, but didn't. That was a daytime call though, and they were quite nice and unperturbed by it. Actually they were always amazingly reassuring, even when my labor was being all crazy.) Heather (the midwife) said she would come over at 2, because I needed antibiotics, and that if it was time for them (her plus two student midwives) to stay they would, if not we would make another plan. Aaron woke up, I called to have the labor tub delivered, and I called my mom to come over to watch Harmon if/when he woke up.

At 2 Heather showed up, followed quickly by Tonya (student midwife), the tub delivery lady, my mom, and Kyla (other student midwife). It was like a party. I still felt pretty good between contractions and was feeling like an idiot for having everyone assembled if I wasn't really going to have a baby that night/morning. At 2:30 they checked me and I was dilated to a 4-5. I told them right before that if I was only a 2 they should just lie to me and say 3. I was happy with what they found instead. And I was at a zero station. They gave me my antibiotics for group b strep, and I spent a while laying in bed or down on my knees during contractions. Kneeling seemed to be the best.

Around 4am I was still feeling good between contractions. They were closer together, from 4-6 min on average, with some 9 minutes in there as well. I had stopped keeping track, but Aaron seems to have snuck in a pretty good record somehow. Maybe because his wife wasn't on the floor moaning and wishing for death like last time? The tub had been half filled and was awaiting the hot water heater to recharge and I decided to get in. We turned the hose back on and began to fill it until the hot was gone again.

The water was AMAZING. In real life I love to swim. I love to be in the water. And with Harmon I was so sad the two times I got into the tub I had to get out because my contractions would slow down. This time it was meant to be. I was in the tub from about 4:20 until I had the baby, getting out once to try to go to the bathroom. The pressure was so horrible for the short time I was out (maybe a minute?), oh how happy I was when I got back in.

Around 5am they did another cervical exam at my request, as I was worried (again) that I wasn't making much progress, I felt much too good. I was talking between contractions, making jokes, eating crackers & juice, etc. It had to still be too early in labor... They checked and I was now a 7, at a +1 station. For real? Awesome. Heather and Tonya joked that I was quietly ambling my way along. Kyla had left because they got another call of another woman in labor, and around this same time Heather got a text announcing that the other lady, who went into labor at 8pm had her baby at 430am. Her first baby. Jerk! But I was feeling good in my happy tub so I wasn't too angry with some lady I had never met... With each approaching contraction I would announce "here comes some fun" which was Aaron's cue to come over and push on my lower back while I got on my knees and held my tummy and rocked.

For the next hour all the contractions hovered around the 5 min apart mark. They were getting stronger, and I could feel the baby moving down some. This was amazing to me, because I was comparing everything to Harmon's birth, and with him I felt nothing but horrifying pain. Sometimes in the middle of the contractions I would say silly things like "yes, go down, good" but for whatever reason they seemed to help me mentally deal with the pain. Nearer to the end I would begin to let my breathing get out of control and Heather would gently say something like "stick with it Kelsey" and I would work hard to get it back and it would work pretty well. I was in a fair amount of pain, but was still talking and joking between the contractions.

Just before 6am I barfed. Luckily just crackers and juice. And luckily into the bowl I had gotten out earlier. At 630 I barfed again. Just water this time! Still gross. Sometime in the 6am hour after barfing I was checked again and was a stretchy 9. I was pretty sleepy tired by this point, but still able to carry on conversations between contractions. Tonya told me I could push the baby through it when I was ready. After a while I actually felt the urge to push. And the times that I did, I did. And when I didn't, I didn't.

Harmon woke up around 6:45ish and my mom brought him out. He wanted to swim in the "bath" real bad. I don't blame him, because isn't a hot tub in your front room in front of the tv the best idea ever? I think so. We are thinking about getting one for there permanently. But I am off topic now...

I probably started pushing just before 7am. It hurt. Real bad. Ok, not horrific like Harmon, but real bad. Before long the baby was crowning and Tonya suggested breaking my water, because it hadn't on it's own yet. She did, the water was clear, and within a few more minutes of horrible pushing (and screaming, no controlled breathing here!) her head was halfway out. That was the worst part. Head halfway out. The next round of contractions got her body out, which was annoyingly difficult because I remembered Harmon's body just falling out. Of course with Harmon I had gravity working and his melon was so big, and Sammy's chest was the same size as her head, so I now see why. But whatever, it wasn't so bad, I was just not enjoying myself too much at the time. And then she was out. And Aaron who caught her was handing her to me. And I was happy, looking at my tiny baby.

Oh sure, you say she's not tiny. But when you have a giant come out first time around, she looks mighty tiny to me. Harmon got to put his feet in the tub and we spent a moment as a family getting our first photo taken. Aaron and I are smiling, Harmon is trying to get all the way into the pool, and Sammy is showing off her impressive lungs. It's a pretty great photo. That none of you will ever see.

Harmon got passed back to my mom, I passed Sammy off to Aaron and got out of the tub to deliver the placenta because it had split. I got a lovely shot of pitocin to my leg to help get out the chunk stuck inside. It all came out, and I begged Heather and Tonya to tell me if/how badly I was torn. A tiny surface tear. That's all? I forgot to add the part about during pushing Tonya putting pressure on my perineum to protect me from tearing something horrible like last time. She is a wonderful wonderful person. I asked how many stitches. None. What? But only if I promised to stay in bed for a week and keep my legs together to be safe. Otherwise one or two. I chose the stitches, and ended up with two, a tiny figure 8.

We moved into the bedroom and lovely Samantha Jane showed her extreme talent for nursing. She is a champ. The midwives cleaned up and left, and my mom hung out with Harmon while Aaron, Samantha, and I napped.

The best part (besides getting another lovely baby) (and being in the water for so long) was not having to go anywhere. I didn't have to drive to the birth center or hospital, and I got to sleep in my own bed when I was done. All my stuff was here, and it was so comfortable and relaxed. We didn't have to leave Harmon with anyone (luckily Momo came to us) and it was wonderful to have him here when his sister arrived.

I feel so good. It was frustrating waiting so long, and labor was long but also SO easy (comparatively). I cannot believe how good I felt through most of the labor, how coherent and how much less pain I had. I am so glad to not have a broken tailbone (like with Harmon) almost zero tearing, almost zero pain afterwards. I am tired, but that is probably mostly due to staying up all night. Aaron is taking the week off to take care of us, and my mom came back today to babysit us while Aaron was at a job interview.

Life. Is. Great.

Samantha Jane Evans
Born 12.15.09 at 7:24am
8lbs 10oz, 21", 36cm head circumference

Jerky Pregnancy Post

*I want to preface this post by saying it's jerky to even write it at all. I am keenly aware that there are many ladies who desperately would love to be pregnant, and to endure happily all that goes with it. So please know that despite everything I am about to write, I am grateful for the opportunity to have kids.

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I hate being pregnant. And that is not just the end of pregnancy talking. Growing children seems to be the most annoying thing in the whole world to me. And I am pretty sure I have relatively easy uneventful pregnancies (or everyone is better at complaining? I doubt it.) Also, I am aware that I chose to do it twice within a very short period. I take full responsibility for that!

Just a few things I really hate about being pregnant:
-nausea
-barfing
-extreme tiredness
-not being able to sleep
-not being able to get out of bed in a timely fashion due to immense girth
-shoulders falling asleep during the night due to extra body weight pushing on them
-hating food
-not being able to bend
-ugly clothes
-getting fat
-never sleeping more than an hour at a time
-back & hip pain
-squashed stomach
-hating good smells like chocolate chips
-running into everything
-taking an hour to turn over in bed
-did I mention the extreme tiredness?

This list seems to wussy. I swear it's way worse than that.

If you haven't stopped reading I need to add this final and extremely important point: although I hate growing humans, I LOVE when they are on the outside. Harmon has been such an amazing delight to me and I can only imagine how much more happiness (and chaos) will be added in just a few days with the birth of baby nina.

On Birthing.

This year I spent the 48 hours before Harmon's actual time of birth reminiscing about it. Every so often I would say to Aaron, Lois, or myself "this time last year I was doing..." Everything from "getting an ultrasound where they told me my baby was 9.5lbs" to 5am when I said to Aaron "only 2 hours and 44 minutes more of pushing and Harmon will be born." I hardly slept the night of the 23rd, just thinking about it. I still think those were the most anxious/excited 19 hours of my life (early labor) followed by the most painful 12 (not early labor), but they are also ultimately precious to me. Some people think that I am crazy for doing things the way I did, and perhaps I am, but if I had to choose to do it over knowing it would be exactly the same, I would. (In fact I am, aren't I? Ok, I do hope it will be shorter and less painful...) I somehow feel so empowered by the way I did it, it helped me recognize a strength I didn't realize I had. I also am not suggesting this is the way everyone should do it, but it was perfect for me. All I'm really trying to say is that reminiscing was both painful, and sweet. I couldn't help but cry when I kissed my baby at 7:44am one year after I held him for the first time.

In other birthing news, although I am ready for this baby to be out of me now, I am panicked thinking of all the things I have to get done before then. The thought that baby nina could come out safely in about 3 weeks is INSANE. I am hoping she will stick closer to her due date, and that I will somehow manage to be productive in the meantime. Maybe that means doing work while my child is sleeping instead of blogging. Nah.

Haircut?

My hair is driving me crazy. Your hair is supposed to not fall out and be all luxurious during pregnancy. It's a lie. Ok, maybe it's not a lie. With Harmon, I had fast growing thicker hair. With baby niña, I seem to be shedding insanely. I still have thick hair, and it's still growing fast, but I am tired of finding my hair all over the house, and most especially between my child's fingers on a regular basis.

Plus my hair is too long. It doesn't look good. And it takes forever to do anything to it. Also, I want bangs again. Just a little bit of bangs. Enough to cover up part of my pale face. Which brings me to my next point, my skin is sick without the sun. All you normally pale people, you are good-looking in the winter. But I am not. If only I believed in fake tanning.

But back to my other point. I want to cut my hair. But I have deliberately grown it out to the length it is to donate it to Locks of Love. And it's just not quite ready to be cut yet. I mean, if I want to look like I didn't just give myself a boy haircut. But it's calling to me. Oh Britney, how much I understand you on nights like tonight...

De-cluttering for idiots

Or rather, how to not acquire more stuff.

I love to buy things. The main problem with this is that I buy lots of small cheap things, big things just don't tempt me as much as a "good deal". I also love to keep said (mostly useless) things. I also end up collecting many pieces of paper with a small bit of sentimental value, or receipts and coupons, or anything that I "may need" one day. I don't know how to solve the papers problem. But I have figured out the lots of cheap junk thing:

Don't go to the store. Since we have been on a tight budget, and knowing I can't resist the dollar section and clearance items at Target (among other stores), I decided to just not go at all. The result? A. Zero spending on things I don't need (good) B. No new junky things are coming to live at my house (super good).

Unfortunately (ok, not so unfortunate) Aaron is scheduled to start at Amazon this week and has been doing some consulting work, so the moratorium on spending may soon be lifted. I would like to think that I have learned self-control but know it's untrue, since recently I was given a giftcard to Target (by Target, for creating a baby registry, hah!) and proceeded to spend it on small junky things that I didn't need. Except for the Sesame Street pumpkin carving kit. You KNOW I needed that.

Word Vomit

I love talking. I like stimulating conversation about important topics. I also like gossiping about totally unimportant things. Talking is really great. But what happens when you spend all day with a baby and don't talk to adults? You go crazy. And then when you get a chance to talk to your husband, you talk so fast your lips may fall off. You recount really meaningless things that you would not have otherwise shared with anyone ("the checker at the grocery store today seemed unhappy to take my coupons"). If it stopped with your husband, it would probably be ok. He would understand that you were crazy from lack of adult conversations and would listen to you even if you talked incessantly about ultimately boring things.

But it doesn't end there, does it? I go to the midwife, and I jabber. I see my mom, and I jabber. I get together with a friend, someone at church, someone in the store, anyone!, and I spew words. I can't even help it. And I know it's happening, but I'm powerless to stop it. It's embarrassing really. I mean come on Harmon, is it too much to ask for you to carry on meaningful conversations while playing with blocks? Seriously.

The Second Birth...

The first time I was pregnant I had no idea what to expect for giving birth.

Somehow I decided (surely influenced by my mother and my friend Jacki's natural births) that I wanted to have my baby as naturally as possible. My mom had told me stories about her three births (one I witnessed as a teenager) and the things she liked and would have done differently if possible (like changing positions, etc). It seemed to me at the time that using a midwife and a birthing center like Jacki had done was the best way to be able to "birth on my own terms". That way I could move around, not feel too pressured to progress faster, get in the tub, not worry about getting an epidural (as none would be available). Most people I'm sure thought I was crazy. But to each their own, right?

Well as it turned out, it was insane. I had read just about every book on birthing and especially birthing naturally I could get my hands on, and taken a class "birthing from within" (based on the book) with Aaron that helped teach pain management techniques. I knew that I could not even imagine what it would be like, which was both terrifying and somewhat freeing. In the end being two weeks overdue and successfully birthing my wonderful 10lb 12oz 23" Harmon was beyond horribly difficult, but the most amazing thing I have ever done (Read it here if you like). I still think about the experience on a regular basis, and am still not only proud of myself, but happy I chose to do things the way I did.

My parents however, were not as pleased with the experience. My poor mom spent much of the night in the car outside the birth center, not wanting to disturb us, but thinking that labor was taking way too long and something could be wrong. My dad and step-mom were concerned after hearing of the ordeal, and especially when I was unable to sit for 3 months after giving birth.

This time around, I am on different insurance, and as a result have two options for birth instead of three: hospital or home birth. Last time I really liked being away from the hospital (but still really close if there would have been a problem) and also away from our teeny tiny house. But this time there is no option for a free-standing birth center. And I still have no desire at this point for a home birth. Truthfully there is a third option, and that's the option I have chosen, a "birth center" on one of the floors of the hospital. I do get to use midwives (which I love!) but I worry that it will be similar enough to being in a hospital. I worry that I will have to stay too long (I stayed at the birth center for about 6 hours after having Harmon) or that I will break down and get some drugs pumped into me. On the plus side, my parents are all overjoyed at the word "hospital" even though my baby and I were just fine last time.

Maybe they are silly things to worry about, because I do know that however my baby girl decides to come out will be fine. I will be so happy to have her safe that it will likely overshadow anything else that happens along the way. I suppose it's partially just my desire to have control that plays into my fears about "how it will be". I also find myself wondering how my labor will be, if it will be just as long and painful, if I will have an abnormally large child again, if I can do it the same way again, if I can do it again at all.

It seems I would just be better off with my thinking from the first time: I have no idea what to expect. And that's ok.

Why Blog?

Warning, this may be a totally boring post.

I have been thinking the past few days about why blogging is so incredibly popular. Specifically I have been wondering why I like to blog and why I like to read other people's blogs.

Reading Blogs
1. It makes me feel like I keep in touch with my friends. Admittedly I am not so good anymore with the telephone, and this way when it is late or early or I have a minute I can see more or less what they are up to. I would like to pretend that I mostly need it for my far away friends, but I don't keep in very good touch with my closer friends either.

2. It's cathartic. I read a fair amount of what could be deemed "mommy blogs" of people I don't know. Most of them are funny, a few sad and some just interesting.

3. I like to see what acquaintances are up to. It's so weird, but I am a total blog stalker.

Writing Blogs
1. I really feel like I should keep a journal, but am terrible at it. Typing is much faster than writing things by hand, and it's all in one place, not in several books spread throughout boxes and shelves in my house.

2. Some claim to enjoy looking at excessive pictures of my child and/or reading my terrible letters to people. I enjoy that.

3. Again, it's cathartic. Being mostly alone all day (with Harmon) life can often get boring. No offense to Harmon, but he doesn't carry on a conversation very well yet. It gives me a chance to say a lot of the things I would just say to another adult human if they were in the room. Additionally it lessens my rage for some of the people I encounter if I write it down instead of ramming them with my car. It lets me get my thoughts out, with only some worry of boring people. I figure if I ever am too boring, I'm not forcing anyone to read.

So, this was a pointless post, just something that had been floating around in my head. Also I just spell checked and had no misspellings. Boo-yah.

Never Before and Never Since...

Several months ago Aaron and I popped in a DVD I made from photos of the kids in Ecuador from 2004. It's set to music, and meant to make you cry, if you are wussy like me. Turns out I am wussy like me. Anyway, the first song is 10,000 Maniacs "These Are The Days". And I thought as I watched it and listened to the lyrics that say "never before and never since...will the whole world be warm as this" as I have thought many times before, how true it is.

When I watch that video, when I think about those kids, when I think about the time I spent in Ecuador, I feel that so deeply. It was such a magical amazing time. And going back is never the same. It can't be. And that makes going back hurt. Even if going back is fun, and fulfilling, and wonderful, it's just not the same, and it never will be. And that's ok.

When I hear that song I also think of my freshman year of college. The same song is played over a video that the lovely Jacki created of video clips. And I feel the same but different about that period in my life too. I think about all the fun we had, how late we stayed up, how much annoyance we must have caused other people, how easy it was to be carefree, and how I didn't know how good I had it. But life will never be like that again. And that's ok too.

Because now I'm in a different chapter of life. One that some days seems so monotonous and dull, but is filled with so many moments of explosive joy and happiness. It's so easy (in every stage of life) to think back on the past longingly, to think it can't compare to right now, and really, sometimes it can't. During truly rough periods the past is far better than the present. But I think more often than not, we are in a stage in life that we will later look back on fondly. I sometimes find myself wishing that Harmon was a little older, but I know like all other parents on the planet that when he is I will miss little(ish) H. I will miss his army crawl and screaming "maaaaaaaa" (mas, which means more) at dinner, and I will think about how the world never was so warm, and that it won't be again, at least not in the same way. But that's what's great. If I stop and think about it, I can more fully enjoy right now and make even greater memories. And that's pretty great. As the song says, I do know I'm blessed and lucky.

I guess I was feeling emotional. I blame pregnancy.

Night Mind

I write the best blog posts. While laying in bed at night trying to sleep. Oh, they are so witty and filled with interesting hilarious things. And then the next day, I have no idea what I wanted to write about. It really is a tragedy.

But what's that about anyway? Why is it when I lay down I can't just go to sleep? I'm not a worrier. I don't sit up half the night thinking about all the things I need to do, haven't done, problems, whatever. I sit up (ok lay down) half the night thinking about stupid random things. And often successfully manage to keep Aaron up way later than he wants listening to me ramble. "Remember today when that lady cut me off? She was a bad driver." "Do you think I should buy Harmon some new pants, his are getting small." "Stop snoring." See? All REALLY stupid unnecessary things (ok except stop snoring.)

Anyway. I wish I knew how to solve this problem. Maybe if I just brought my laptop to bed I could write funny blogs and stop thinking about minuscule details of the day. Or I could sleep. I'm just sayin.

New Pants!

Dear one person who may read this,

I bought new pants on Saturday. Big deal right? Yes, because although my child will be 4 months old tomorrow I had still been wearing maternity pants, with the exception of the pair of pants my mom got me for Christmas. And now, I own 3 pairs of real people pants that fit me. Thank you hips for moving inward, because I know I am still mighty fat. But oh how I love real pants! I had been putting off buying any because I wanted to wait until I was skinny again. This is stupid for several reasons, including the fact that I already have an army of pants for that desired size. But my new inbetween size real pants, you will serve me well. See you again someday maternity pants. You served me well.

The end.