The Ultimate Pregnancy and Labor and Delivery Post

W A R N I N G S 

What follows is unashamedly a birth story....although not very graphic, if it's not your thing, skip it. This is also long, really just for my own record. Read at your own risk. 

D I S C L A I M E R

I like memes.  #noshame #sorrynotsorry

 LEVI IS HERE! Levi August Faith Born September 4, 2015 at 4:29 a.m. at 7 pounds 2 ounces and 20.25 inches long.

And yes, this kiddo I birthed.

 

As most know from previous posts, pregnancy was not an easy "achievement". This verbiage implies we actually had control in the matter. Although God's timing is always perfect, and He was in total control of this timing, in the past three years I did become very educated on the art of baby making, consequently, so did my husband.

To say there was excitement when this finally happened, is an understatement of the century. This was such a special moment for me. After "trying" for years, and after a loss of a pregnancy a year prior, I allowed for massive celebration. 

In case you missed THIS happy. We weren't the only one's excited.

Although a long time coming, I was grateful the pregnancy itself was anti-climactic. Having temporarily "raised" three kiddos before, and dealing with the birth pains of CPS, PSMAPP, court dates etc.: a biological gestation was relatively hassle free.

My pregnancy was comparatively easy, I say this because of the horror stories I have heard. Thus, I learned I have no right to complain: even though I did. 

The first trimester was spent like this.... 

My little buddy R kept good company during my naps.

I was shipped off to a high risk OB due to my wonky asymptomatic blood condition, resulting in me changing my care provider, ingesting massive amounts of liquefied spinach, iron, and vitamins, from here until the end of my pregnancy, and getting this picture at only 10 weeks.

During the second trimester, a bout of bronchitis, *see buddy R aka the petri dish* leveled me. I was also nesting and cleaning the house with ammonia which I am sure didn't help. We also found out baby Faith was a BOY!! 

The latter months for me were pretty shocking...

(36 weeks)

And then 37-40+ weeks hit. No joke, those last few weeks were doozies. The dead heat of a Phoenix summer with a fried "pregnancy brain"  made me believe that Babies are like dementors, sucking the life out of my cells and leaving me brain fogged and a "bit" cranky. 

My iron and hemoglobin infused body began to cooperate with my growing child, and as the third trimester started, we began to finalize plans for Levi's grand entrance. 

So I guess you can say I am little crunchy. As Joseph would say, I am not TOTALLY granola, but I love my homeopathics, essential oils, Kombucha, acupuncture, naturopaths, chiropractors, and I make my own fire cider. I don't cloth diaper, I don't yet make my OWN Kombucha, and I don't eat paleo. Its all about balance... 




However, I do tend to make some unconventional choices about my life and my health. This, and Joseph's own birth, influenced our decision to pursue a home birth.

It never occurred to me to NOT plan a natural un-medicated labor and delivery, but I am also reasonable enough to have considered all the possibilities or game plans for IF we needed a hospital. After looking into alternative birth centers also, we still felt a home birth was the best decision for us. 

Home birth is not the right option for everyone. I personally feel most comfortable in my home. And staying home fit my birth philosophy that childbirth is not a sickness, or by nature a serious medical condition. But it is nice to know in our modern day society, that there are highly trained medical professionals when needed.

I felt safe and taken care of with my wonderful midwife and her students,

It came down to this...  

So, for the record, My husband and I were 100% on the same page; and by 36 weeks, the house was stocked with everything on the home birth 'have on hand list' (ask me if you dare) and we knew we were most likely good to go for our "birth plan." (Although I never wrote one, nor did  I pack a just-in-case bag...oops)

As any pregnant lady, I said I was willing to wait this baby out until he wanted to make an appearance,which is way easier to say BEFORE your due date. Watching that silly date pass me by was only a LITTLE hard.



I tried EVERYTHING in the "move things along" for labor department. The less graphic things I tried were Thai food, so much walking and stair climbing it wasn't even funny, I was constantly on my "birth" ball, I ate  pineapple, did lots of curb walking, and acupressure points. By 40 weeks 5 days, you could stick a fork in me... I was done. Every week I kept promising myself this would be the last time I would have to shave my legs.

 

I woke up on September 3rd(the afformentioned 40 weeks 5 days) feeling fantastic. My days had been varied, I was either couch bound and miserable, or I felt GREAT. The weather was beautiful, it almost felt like fall in PX; so I walked...and WALKED....and walked, and curb walked. This means with one foot on the curb and one foot on the road I hobbled my fat pregnant butt down the street, hoping to get labor started. I was cautiously optimistic. I had been experiencing pre-labor for weeks, even having "contractions" at 5-10 minutes intervals for hours some days. But no progress. I had been 3 cm and 85% effaced for 2 weeks. I thought I would have to beg my midwife that day, but she willingly swept my membranes at about noon. At this point I was 4 cm dilated, and both midwife and I were shocked I had yet to go into labor. The decision to "sweep" was based on the fact I was headed into overtime, (over 41 weeks) where extra precautions and monitoring needed to take place, such as an NST or biophysical profile. This was also a Thursday right before a holiday weekend. Our options were limited, the next step would have been castor oil *gasp* NOT on my bucket list. 

(this pictures was days pre-labor...see the ball and bowl of pineapple?)

I had contractions the entire way home from my appointment, by the time I ran an errand, ate a big lunch (in anticipation of labor) straightened the house,  did a load of laundry, and bounced on my birthing ball, they had pretty much stopped. Joseph came home briefly in the afternoon, and left for men's bible study.  When he came home, we said good night about about 10:55, and at 11:00 pm, labor started. These contractions were the same as the ones I had been having, I kept trying to fall asleep in between. But I reached for my phone and after realized these were every 4 minutes or less. Like clockwork. I told Joseph I was getting a bath, this was my usual habit if having contractions in the evening, if they stopped in the bath, labor wasn't real, and I could go back to sleep. They got more intense. I was in and out of the bathroom, and sitting on my birthing ball after that, draped over a pile of pillows on the side of the bed. I didn't wake Joseph until 1 a.m. By then the contractions took all my focus. He got up with me... stoked that it looked like he wouldn't be going into work in the morning. Timing the contractions proved unproductive at 2-3 minutes apart that didn't seem right, it seemed too fast.  I finally committed to calling my doula at 1:30 a.m. 

I never wanted to be that first time mom that jumps the gun and goes to hospital or calls for help long before anything REAL is going on. But labor, true to form, was legitimately painful... those contractions are nuts, and I was TOLD there would be a build up, the 2-3 minutes breaks were barely enough to wrap my head around the next one. yeah I'm a wuss.

I had Joseph play my music, this lasted less than 5 minutes. I couldn't stand it. (Explosions in the Sky was my meditative muse music.  Probably because  I watched all the seasons of Friday Night Lights in my early pregnancy...and I cried every episode)  

My essential oil diffuser even seemed to be making too much noise. And my darling husband, deciding to make good use of his time awake by clipping his fingernails in my general vicinity while still utilizing contractionmaster.com, infuriated me.

My doula arrived at 2:30 a.m., and gave good hands-on help to me via massage during my contractions until, with her help, we decided to text my midwife. Just to update her, I still thought I had quite a ways to go, and would hate to have her lose a whole nights sleeep if she would just be "labor sitting" until morning. 

 I  was preparing for a marathon labor, and although I never thought I should go to the hospital, I was second guessing my desire to have biological children, period. By 3:45ish (I don't really remember this time period) Things seemed to get SO intense. Thinking this could go on for 12-20 more hours as per stories I heard, had me nervous. I was not sure I could handle it. Whatever IT was. Meanwhile, based on the text messages my midwife was receiving from my husband she opted to send her senior apprentice to check me for progress.

SPOILER ALERT: the student midwife (S) arrived a little after 4:00 a.m. .. Levi arrived at 4:29 and my main midwife arrived about 10 minutes A F T E R that.

When "S" arrived, she checked me and said I was a 6. (as in dilation) Then she left the room to  go call the main midwife, at which I got up, walked to my bathroom sink and sobbed my heart out, crying to Joseph and my doula that I had only progressed 2 cms all day and I couldn't do another 4, it was too hard! 

 My doula assured me i was moving very fast, and the baby was coming soon. As I sobbed I KNEW these were the classic transition symptoms I was told about, but I figured there was no way I was close to this being over, because really as much as the contractions felt like they went on forever, the process felt like it had really just started.

Cue a few horrific contractions, I don't think I ever made it back to the birth ball, one at bathroom sink, one on bathroom floor. I felt betrayed, where was the slow build up? where was the restful breaks? 

Meanwhile, my biggest fear (IN LIFE #emetophobia) for labor, had been throwing up, I was nauseous and kept pouring peppermint oil on my wrists to smell. But for whatever reason, as is my custom, instead of saying I am going to be sick, I always just ask Joseph if I am going to throw up, to which he says "no honey you're fine" and then I am fine. (I understand the psychological issues this implies, but all midwives, doulas, and spouses were well aware of this phobia of mine, and were supposed to comply with placebo statements.) 


So, when S actually brought me a barf bag, I rolled my eyes and grabbed the peppermint oil, and realized, before the last 2 contractions, that I could probably let go of that fear as the baby was almost here, and no one throws up during the pushing phase. *relief* In hindsight I find this whole situation comical. 

Back to those horrific contractions. When asked if I felt pushy, I can't verify this, but whether in my head or out loud I remember saying "pushy? what the hell does that mean?!" And then the next contraction had something pushing ME.

After the first of  these pushing contractions, in between S was asking where I wanted to deliver....bathroom floor where I currently was on hands and knees? She was prepping the bed with plastic shower curtain, and after a few panicky moments of *I don't know, the baby is actually coming soon? cue mental freak outs* I opted for the tub. Thus, the last 3-4 contractions were in the tub.Technically this was a waterbirth, but it was so last minute I just call it a tub birth, but there was water. 

Soon after getting in, while Joseph is concentrating on filling the tub and pouring water on my back, S makes Joseph and I listen up and tells us that our midwife (who had been on the phone with S intermittently) was still 15 minutes away, and do we want another midwife to be called. (She is a student and technically not licensed yet.) I was adamantly NOT caring about who was there or not there, but Joseph said "YES call the other midwife!" Well, Levi arrived about minutes later, needless to say, I never met this backup professional haha.

For the record, in my birth story, there is no pushing. The only thing I can describe pushing as, is a whole body dry heave, that left me seeing stars. I still don't know how to facilitate pushing, and barely understand the concept. In the midst I recalled the stories of women who said "i pushed for x # of hours!" But time stamps on pictures prove that it was mere minutes from the first "pushing contraction" until Levi arrived. My body did it for me, it was at the most 4 contractions of "pushing."  I did not guide him out, I did not have a hypnotic, pain free delivery, I am not that crunchy. I cried, I screamed OWWwwww! I did have  Ina May in my head reminding me to keep my vocal tones low, I remembered to breath. *sort of*  I feel my doula or husband said things to me throughout, but my own vocalizing helped each contraction along, so I don't recall actually hearing anything. 
I was coherent in between contractions, but always terrified of the next one. 

I don't feel like I handled birth gracefully, or eloquently. I did not look pretty. (Stupid pinterest with their cute pregnant bellied shots of women birthing so prettily!) I had, to some degree tried to maintain my modesty, but ended up getting pantsed against my will during a contraction. Apparently babies can't arrive with your pants on. (after baby's arrival, modesty went out the window btw, necessity not choice)

During all this Levi was perfect. Never had any deceleration in his heart rate. He had been a crazy acro baby throughout much of labor. S was able to check in with him a few times, and he complied nicely. 

At one point S thought she heard someone at our door and went to check, and I remember yelling at her to return because there was *ahem* a head! I didn't want the only person who has caught a baby  before to leave the room! Joseph ran to check, and there was no one there, it was wishful thinking on everyone's part. It was just my doula, Joseph, the student  midwife, and me that got to witness Levi's entrance. 

And when he arrived, it was awful turned perfection. My biggest pregnancy prayer was answered. There was never a concern for his health or well being, he was horse healthy! 
 I was able to pull Levi to me and meet him first, I didn't have to wait to see him breath. He barely cried. He needed no suctioning, and got perfect APGAR scores. Joseph told me that the moment he was born I went from whatever animalistic noise I was making immediately to a high pitched squeal as I grabbed him asking "it's my baby!" As if there was competition. I fell back into a seated position, and enjoyed our snuggles. Numb for the moment, isn't God kind? 

I marveled at his perfect features, I  was almost surprised that I didn't recognize him or who he looked like. I was so amazed that he knew my voice, he knew exactly who I was and seemed so content and relaxed. 

(that is one happy father, waiting to hold his son)

 My main midwife arrived soon after Levi, and she was able to assist the post pregnancy stuff no one warned me about... 

Levi nursed, we snuggled, and got reinforcements in for my many, many, many, stitches. 
And I was so grateful baby got to be in daddy's arms the whole time mamma was getting some help. 

The whole party was out of my house by 9:30 a.m. the three of us got to rest, and later was able to entertain our parents. And by entertain, I mean people brought me food, waited on me hand and foot, and gushed over Levi. 

I loved being in our own home, and in our own bed. Where we could just stare at our son. 

Happy Birthday Son! I am told I will someday remember your birth fondly and forget the delivery part... although I know for a fact I will never forget seeing your sweet face for the first time. How alert and content you were, and how peaceful that moment was for me. We are just so blessed that you are healthy and thriving! 

(a little over 24 hours after birth)

H A P P I N E S S   

"For you formed my inward parts;

you knitted me together in my mother's womb.

  I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.1

Wonderful are your works;

my soul knows it very well."

Luxury

So...Confession.

my  kiddos are all gone. our foster license is technically closed (temporarily). I have no real job. I am currently over 8 months pregnant and enjoying the perks of being a stay-at-home-wife.

We had agreed this would never be the case. That if there were no kids in the house, foster or otherwise, I would be working full-time out of the home. Yet here we are. My  husband approves. I approve. my baby belly approves. Timing when baby R left was just too...in the middle.

I have never been so....relaxed in my life. For such a lengthy period of time I should add. I have had weeks, even summers off. But normally with classes, jobs, or even big looming life events to prep for. not that having a baby isn't a big life event... but, we at the least have the advantage of knowing almost exactly what type of crazy we're getting into.....i hope.

Luxury is....
having the occasion during the week to sleep in. I was bragging to my brother.. can't you just imagine what its like to just..let your body wake you up whenever?!  that being said, occasionally baby and bladder have a say in when i actually wake, but there have been days I have stayed in solid sleep well past my usual realm. It has been glorious.

Luxury is...
Not dealing with daily things that HAVE to be done. I have a general list of things that must get done...eventually. But usually nothing that is so pressing that it takes up the emergency aspect of my daily life.

Luxury for me has been pursuing people, events, and relationships I haven't made the time for before or in a long period of time. It has been invigorating.

Luxury is not having to cook everyday. its' too hot anyways. a few times a week is all  need to do, if that. then there is eggs, sandwiches, frozen Costco fare, and leftovers. A pregnant body that demands in-and-out once in a while is fine too. And a non-picky husband.

This feels like the calm before the storm, but at least I know the storm will be worth it. The odd part is, living a more "luxurious" life than normal, has not meant that time slows down.... I started this particular post a month ago. And I have yet to finish it or the to-do list of baby prep. tick tock.

Happy birthday

2 years ago, baby C was born into this world.

The day he was born I knew there was a mamma in labor, and through my calculations I have figured that while he was being birthed, I was a riding roller coaster...this one in particular. 

#classic # RIP #funfunfun

That whole phase of life is such a a blur, getting our foster license, Joseph getting our first phone call, and the actual trip to the hospital to pick up the sweetest baby on a Sunshiney June Monday. This was his 3rd day of life, 2 years ago today.  I remember getting into the locked *supersecret* nursery at the big hospital. I drove circles  looking for the parking garage. I talked to the nurse, I peeked at the babies, and settled into feed and rock my first child. I texted joseph that the baby was perfect. He reminds me of this text because he remembers verifying the information when he met C for the first time. So healthy. So adorable. 

I get asked often with my swollen pregnant butt taking up everyone's space these days, if "this is my first." I say yes, but really, there have been kiddos that had my heart first. Not used up or ripped out, but been there. And C was my first ray of sunshine. Had we been able to adopt, he wouldn't have been my eldest. His sweet sister would have taken that role, in a commanding way of course. But he was my first. The child who made me a mamma.

Sweet Baby T

  And even though I so cherish this pregnancy, and our future foster or adopted kiddos,  I think it is ok to embrace the ones who first made me a mommy. The privilage of holding, rocking, feeding, changing, and surviving life with these littles is an honor. 

Dear child, for that moment, those 14 months, you were the fire of my world....bringing light, fear, chaos, and warmth to my barren heart.

What I learned during my brief privilege as your mamma; besides the fact I can't take a good picture to save my life. Was that, like my love for my husband, perhaps even a bit more quickly felt, love is sacrifice. Saying goodbye to you and T is to date the hardest thing I have ever done. I love you so much son.

Don't mind my face in the above picture....it was my first day...

just complaining

For as calm as life has been lately: only one child in the house who sleeps through the night, not being in school anymore, and having no real pressing matter to attend to save for daily life, I have been struggling.

And now the hubby is under mega work stress, and I am left to my own devices most of the time.
 Being left with me is exhausting. I feel like I am 16 again, with emotions and so many FEEEEELLLLLSSSS I don't know what to do with! Let alone headaches and general pregnancy discomfort that just seem  to follow me like a mushroom cloud fog. Oddly enough the worst of my pain, comes from a fall that I took, because I am a klutz, when I was 6 weeks pregnant. It has rendered me feeling old and pained. But although I never boasted morning sickness, I boast the constant desire...nay NEED... to nap.





In other news about myself.... *blah blah talks about herself again*

I had a dentist appointment. My pearly's are perfect, as per usual...ish. But zombie attack Kate's gums bleeding like a maniac when pregnant, particularity when being attacked by efficient hygienists, is a bloody hilarious mess!

Baby R

Baby R is nuts in the best way possible.

This week in particular he has been a non-stop machine of getting into things, his speed crawling has tripled, he stands everywhere, lets go, gets scared that he is not holding onto anything and sits down.
Things he must be proud of so far this week...

- pulling Christmas dishes from the china cabinet to the floor (chipped one mug)
- pulling glass mixing bowls to the floor from kitchen cabinet (how the tile didn't break the glass idk)
- vinegar, towels, and hot mitts from kitchen cupboard (thanks goodness the other chemicals are locked)
- throwing books, toilet paper, and socks into tub and turning water ON. (foiled by mamma kate before water did damage)
- talked his way through an HOA meeting, church, and any quiet moment anywhere public.
- continually rips off carbon monoxide detector
- continually pulls out refrigerator grate
- knocks over fire extinguisher

I swear I follow him around almost constantly, I do watch him, most of this happens in 30 second-1 minute intervals...

Husband thought I exaggerated some details yesterday, 20 minutes into being alone with him, decided a walk/stroller solution was best, as R had powered down his computer . :-)

I did however successfully keep him from..

1. eating cat food (this week at least)
2. getting into the litter box
 (this week...)

He is soooo stinkin' adorable, and this little monster is not quite 11 months old.

Paperwork has been filed to have him moved back to his bio-mamma, but i was told to expect to have him another month.

woohooo!

Court

Baby R had court today. I wasn't there. An odd feeling the whole morning really..but it seems to have gone favorably. Although this time favorably for us, baby and bio-mom is for R to go home to be with his mom.

I missed being there. As anticlimactic as most court hearings are, it is usually the only time anything HAPPENS. I spend months, making calls, having appointment, visits, keeping everything updated etc etc...just to have nothing happen until after a court date.

As per my (albeit limited) previous court experience, it is a hurry up and wait situation. Baby R will be returning home when X gets completed in 2-4 weeks, and then up to 30 days after that. The encouraging bit is, the hold up is not on his Mom's end. She has worked hard to set up a good life for the kiddos to get back to, and this waiting is much harder on her.

My heart hurts for R's mom, she craves updates on her baby boy, but even the happiest moments, can elicit sad responses from her as for her it just means happy moments she is missing with her baby. This has been a very low stress, low anxiety placement for us, and I am learning so much; this being my first experience developing a relationship with the "bio" parents, and I hope to utilize this easy going, communicative, and positive bio-mom experience to fuel any difficult moments I may have in our future fostering endeavors.

The Pregnancy Post

"And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us."~ 1 John 5:14-15

Baby Faith 

We are beyond grateful to be experiencing this amazing biological process, and are thankful that God would answer this prayer for us. 

As we announce this joyful news, the question I keep getting asked is "will you still be doing foster care." In short, the answer is yes. We began pursuing foster care and adoption at the same time we had decided to start planning for biological kiddos. This year might be shaped a bit differently, but there will be no disruption to our current placement, we are open, this year even, to another placement, and we still very much hope to adopt. As it was this pregnancy, I can only imagine that any potential adoption will only be in God's perfect timing. Pursuing foster care and adoption was not our last resort, it was, and is, a calling that we felt was where God has laid a clear path for our family. We never expected to struggle with "infertility," it just happened that conceiving was quite challenging for us. After over 2 1/2 years of "trying" and in the middle of that time period experiencing the  loss of our first pregnancy, there was a strong reality of facing a life without a biological child. Although I struggled more with this fact than my husband, we were comforted in that God had us already pursuing children. At the time of our loss, our cups were overflowing with baby snuggles and baby barf. And when our first kiddo-loves moved on, the loss of them was beyond devastating. God had a plan for our family, He has been girding up our parenting loins, and we still feel His call for a continued life among children, biological, foster, adopted, and if there is any other way we can fill our home let us know!

I am thankful for the bold body of believers who prayed on behalf of my womb. I praise God because His answer could have just as easily been NO.