I can hardly believe my little man is almost a month old - in some ways - in other ways it's already hard to picture life without him. I've really just spent the month getting us into a routine, loving on him and hanging out with my girlies. We're already into our second week of school. We started back on Accountable Kids. I've continued with my cleaning system. Richard is back to school. We're living within our budget. I'm exercising, reading books, and having a weekly "me night." We're starting a youth group at church and getting more involved there, which really deserves a post for itself. I'm just not sure I'm ready to right it yet. Really, life is good right now. I'm just going to take it in while it lasts.
I don't feel mediocre right now.
I feel like I have it all under control. In some ways, that's a bad thing. It's during the high times that I must remind myself that I am just as dependent on grace as I was 9 months ago lest I start relying on my own strength. When my house was a train wreck, my marriage was rocky, my children were ignored, our finances were in disarray, home school was barely educating, my faith was shaky, my calling was uncertain, and my emotions were on edge - it was easy to see how desperately I needed grace.
But today I am still that same person, just allowing God to move in the direction He's calling. Living on grace. Hanging tight to faith. God was blessing me then, and He's blessing me now. Amen. And Amen.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
3 or More: Zachary's Birth Story
There is an old saying that goes sorta like this: one is like cake, two is three times as hard as one, and three or more is all the same. (I wish I could find the exact quote, but Google has failed me. However, you get the idea). I'm finding that to be fairly accurate. Of course, having a newborn is always challenging, but this is round four and I sorta got it down. Thankfully, Zach doesn't seem to have any issues: colic, reflux, etc. I've been spending the last 2 and 1/2 weeks snuggling my baby, giving the girls some love, and most importantly, trying to gradually slide into a schedule. I was not a scheduler with my first two, but I'm finding it to be really important to the home-school lifestyle. My hope is to do the bulk of our schooling during his nap times. Some days we run like a well-oiled machine and other days not so much, and I'm finding it all depends on how much sleep I get the night before! All around, we're doing great! No signs of post-partum depression. My energy levels are good. And, I recovered very nicely. Yay! Praise God!
I promised Zach's birth story as well, so here it is:
As many of you know we had planned a homebirth with #4. By the time I was 7 days late, I was afraid. My girls all weighed in above 8 pounds before my due date, so my first fear was that this baby was going to huge. I was afraid of Meconium again as we had that problem with #3 and the chances of it go up with post-due babies. And, I was mostly afraid about the baby's position. It was weird that I kept going into what was seemingly early labor with no signs of progressing. We knew the baby's head was down, but we were concerned that the contractions were pushing his head into my hip rather than my cervix, which would explain why I wasn't dilating past 4 centimeters.
I woke up on week 41, day 2, at 4:30 a.m. feeling like I had to go to the bathroom. I laid there for about an hour before I woke Richard up and asked him time my contractions. By 6 a.m., I was fairly confident that I was in labor, so I called my midwife and my mom. Fortunately, my dad was able to stay home from work until afternoon, so I planned for him to take the two older girls to their day camp and asked my aunt to watch the younger. At this point, everything was going great. By the time my midwife arrived I was 6 cm, and finally, finally, in active labor. I was still feeling good enough to walk around the house. My leg was really hurting me after a while, so I sat down on the birthing ball. When I tried to get up about 10 minutes later, I couldn't fully stand up. Once they finally got me in an up-right position, we checked the heartbeat (nice and strong). My midwife wanted to check me again, but I was still only 6-7 cm. She decided to break my water to get things moving. And, again, Meconium.
Insert me crying, blaming myself, and a scary ride to the hospital. My midwife was fairly confident that it was fresh Meconium because of the color, but there was a lot of it, which was a reason for real concern. When we got to the hospital around 8 to 8:30 a.m., they hooked me up to monitors, rinsed out my uterus with saline, and hooked me up to an I.V. and gave me antibiotics (ugh!). The baby's heart-rate was good and I was 7 cm.
It didn't take long for my contractions to greatly intensify (from painful but bearable to "I can't do this!"). Fortunately, the doctor where I went is good and also - for lack of a better term - tolerant. He let my midwife, her assistant, Richard and my mom all be present the entire time. I had plenty of coaching and support, and they really helped me to stay focused and work through the contractions. By 10:15 a.m., I felt ready to push. When the doctor checked though, I was still only 8.5 centimeters and the baby's head was not even engaged in the birth canal! (Further confirming my suspicions of an awkward position of the baby). At that point, he told me to start pushing. The first push was awkward because I didn't yet have the full "push instinct," and it probably didn't accomplish much. The doctor told me: I'm sensing you're a little hesitant, probably because you're afraid it's going to hurt. But once you get him down there, you're going to get pissed off and push like hell. (His words, not mine, and very accurate words they were). The second push - his head engaged - it hurt like hell - and I had him out of there in about 5 minutes. He was facing my right leg.
Richard said it was impressive.
When the doctor caught the baby he said, "that's a ten pounder!" (10 pounds 1 ounce, thank you very much)! I looked down and saw what I suspected on my poop stained little baby: boy anatomy! Richard announced "Zachary Richard is here!" My mom cried once she finally realized it was a boy because she was really hoping for a grandson. My dad and father-in-law came in the few minutes later and got to meet him. It was great! :)
The first question I asked the doctor was "How bad did I tear?" Let me just assure you of this: natural child-birth is awfully painful, but you have adrenaline and endorphins that get you through. When it's over. It's over. They give you some nice pain meds for the cramping that causes your uterus to shrink back up, but those last just a few days. Episiotomies suck - for weeks. Tears suck, but not as bad as an episiotomy. But let me just say, there is nothing like feeling back to your old self two days after having a baby when you don't have either! I have no idea how I didn't tear with a ten pound baby, but Richard says the doctor worked some magic.
They didn't get to give him to me right away because they had to suck the maconium out of his belly, and his first attempt at nursing didn't go too well because he was still having a little trouble breathing because he hadn't sneezed out all the gunk yet. But when they brought him back later, he nursed like a champ. My aunt brought Gigi to the hospital, and she was thrilled. My dad picked up the older two later, and they were so excited to have a little brother! We just spent the rest of the day resting and getting to know our little man. God is good!
I promised Zach's birth story as well, so here it is:
As many of you know we had planned a homebirth with #4. By the time I was 7 days late, I was afraid. My girls all weighed in above 8 pounds before my due date, so my first fear was that this baby was going to huge. I was afraid of Meconium again as we had that problem with #3 and the chances of it go up with post-due babies. And, I was mostly afraid about the baby's position. It was weird that I kept going into what was seemingly early labor with no signs of progressing. We knew the baby's head was down, but we were concerned that the contractions were pushing his head into my hip rather than my cervix, which would explain why I wasn't dilating past 4 centimeters.
I woke up on week 41, day 2, at 4:30 a.m. feeling like I had to go to the bathroom. I laid there for about an hour before I woke Richard up and asked him time my contractions. By 6 a.m., I was fairly confident that I was in labor, so I called my midwife and my mom. Fortunately, my dad was able to stay home from work until afternoon, so I planned for him to take the two older girls to their day camp and asked my aunt to watch the younger. At this point, everything was going great. By the time my midwife arrived I was 6 cm, and finally, finally, in active labor. I was still feeling good enough to walk around the house. My leg was really hurting me after a while, so I sat down on the birthing ball. When I tried to get up about 10 minutes later, I couldn't fully stand up. Once they finally got me in an up-right position, we checked the heartbeat (nice and strong). My midwife wanted to check me again, but I was still only 6-7 cm. She decided to break my water to get things moving. And, again, Meconium.
Insert me crying, blaming myself, and a scary ride to the hospital. My midwife was fairly confident that it was fresh Meconium because of the color, but there was a lot of it, which was a reason for real concern. When we got to the hospital around 8 to 8:30 a.m., they hooked me up to monitors, rinsed out my uterus with saline, and hooked me up to an I.V. and gave me antibiotics (ugh!). The baby's heart-rate was good and I was 7 cm.
It didn't take long for my contractions to greatly intensify (from painful but bearable to "I can't do this!"). Fortunately, the doctor where I went is good and also - for lack of a better term - tolerant. He let my midwife, her assistant, Richard and my mom all be present the entire time. I had plenty of coaching and support, and they really helped me to stay focused and work through the contractions. By 10:15 a.m., I felt ready to push. When the doctor checked though, I was still only 8.5 centimeters and the baby's head was not even engaged in the birth canal! (Further confirming my suspicions of an awkward position of the baby). At that point, he told me to start pushing. The first push was awkward because I didn't yet have the full "push instinct," and it probably didn't accomplish much. The doctor told me: I'm sensing you're a little hesitant, probably because you're afraid it's going to hurt. But once you get him down there, you're going to get pissed off and push like hell. (His words, not mine, and very accurate words they were). The second push - his head engaged - it hurt like hell - and I had him out of there in about 5 minutes. He was facing my right leg.
Richard said it was impressive.
When the doctor caught the baby he said, "that's a ten pounder!" (10 pounds 1 ounce, thank you very much)! I looked down and saw what I suspected on my poop stained little baby: boy anatomy! Richard announced "Zachary Richard is here!" My mom cried once she finally realized it was a boy because she was really hoping for a grandson. My dad and father-in-law came in the few minutes later and got to meet him. It was great! :)
The first question I asked the doctor was "How bad did I tear?" Let me just assure you of this: natural child-birth is awfully painful, but you have adrenaline and endorphins that get you through. When it's over. It's over. They give you some nice pain meds for the cramping that causes your uterus to shrink back up, but those last just a few days. Episiotomies suck - for weeks. Tears suck, but not as bad as an episiotomy. But let me just say, there is nothing like feeling back to your old self two days after having a baby when you don't have either! I have no idea how I didn't tear with a ten pound baby, but Richard says the doctor worked some magic.
They didn't get to give him to me right away because they had to suck the maconium out of his belly, and his first attempt at nursing didn't go too well because he was still having a little trouble breathing because he hadn't sneezed out all the gunk yet. But when they brought him back later, he nursed like a champ. My aunt brought Gigi to the hospital, and she was thrilled. My dad picked up the older two later, and they were so excited to have a little brother! We just spent the rest of the day resting and getting to know our little man. God is good!
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