Welcome, Baby!

He's here! The newest addition to our little family has arrived.

As with everything else on this pregnancy journey, his birth wasn't exactly what I had planned, but in the end everything turned out great and went well. We are so glad to have him here at last, safe and healthy. Following is what I am sure will be a very long version of his birth story. Special thanks to my awesome friend Torrey for taking the time to come document the birth while we were in the hospital!

Because of the cholestasis, I had to be induced by week 37, so at 37 weeks one day, we headed to the hospital to start the process. I had been induced once before, with Squirrel, because she was two weeks overdue. It was a long, yucky experience, but having had Little Bird in a VERY quick, completely natural childbirth, I felt confident this one would go much better. We arrived at the hospital around 7:30 AM and started the longest part of the process--answering approximately 97 million questions at least three times each. Once that was done, they started me on the anti-biotic for the Group B Strep and the Pitocin. My midwife, Helene, wanted to get the Pitocin going first to further dilate me and give me the necessary four hours of antibiotics before breaking my water.

{Feeling Good!} 

The next few hours were pretty boring. I was having contractions every 3-4 minutes, but having been through a natural childbirth (and empowered by my Hypnobabies training), I was doing quite well, and the nurses kept coming in to feel my belly to see if I was really contacting as hard as the monitors suggested. In fact, I was feeling so fine, that I sent Rob to his bowling class for an hour, since he was worried about his “team’s” score for the week. Their Aunt Kimber (who came to help this week, and has been SUCH a blessing) brought the kids up to visit for a bit and then have lunch in the cafeteria with Rob.

{Squirrel was pretty disappointed...she walked in, looked around, and then asked where her new baby brother was. She was less than pleased with the fact that he was still in Mommy's tummy.}

{After their initial interest in the whole process of having a baby, 

the kids quickly discovered their favorite part of the hospital--

a television complete with the Disney Channel. Such a novelty!} 

After Rob got back from lunch with the kids, Helene returned too and decided to break my water. I was just getting to the point that I needed a little more focus to breathe through the contractions, since they had been steadily increasing the Pitocin level. As with my last experience on Pitocin, my blood pressure started climbing as well. After they broke my water, the contractions continued to intensify and became more difficult to get through. I was getting pretty restless, needing to get up and down, sit on the birthing ball, and was losing some of my focus. While Little Bird’s birth has moved very quickly and been intense, thanks to my old friend Pit, there was a different intensity with this one that was difficult to focus through.

About this point, I started to get pretty snippy. I didn’t have enough time between contractions to center and completely relax, plus I felt like people were constantly coming in to poke and prod and ask me more annoying questions, like “How are you doing?” “Are you still doing okay?” and “Do you need anything?” I told Rob that I needed him to tell the nurses to shut their mouths, that I didn’t need anyone asking me if I was doing okay or if I needed anything after every contraction. I just wanted everyone to zip it; if I needed something, I would ask for it. In totally sincere, concerned response, he said, “Okay. I can tell them. Is there anything I can do for you?” While I thought about ripping his throat out with my bare hands for that reply, I decided that listening to my Hypnobabies prompts, rather than just do them on my own, might help me to recenter.

Let me interject here that I fully believe in the Hypnobabies method. It got me through Little Bird’s birth so well that I and Rob had a great deal of difficulty even getting anyone to believe that I was in labor. In fact, because I did so well through the entire labor, we ended up sitting in the ER for half an hour, and then couldn’t even get a nurse to check my progress until I was already basically through transition, dilated to a nine, and nearly ready to push. This led to an urgent rush to find a doctor to catch the baby (our own doc arrived about 10 minutes after the main event) and I was really able to talk and joke with the staff about this right through the whole birth. Hypnobabies is an EXCELLENT resource for women who wish to have a natural childbirth, and I fully credit it with my ability to do so with Little Bird.

That said, it was no match for the Pitocin.

As I sat on the birthing ball, listening to the usually calming, lovely voice on the tracks, I found that I was not going “deeper and deeper” into hypnosis, and that I certainly was NOT feeling “more and more relaxed with every pressure wave” (contraction). In fact, I knew I was in trouble when, rather than relaxing, I began to curse this woman, and thought things like, “Shut…up. You are a LIAR, and I am NOT feeling more and more freaking relaxed!” I became so irritated with her that I had to take my headphones back out and resist the urge to smash my ipod to tiny pieces.

And then I started to think really hard about that epidural.

After only a couple more contractions, I started to feel pressure as well. I made a deal with myself that if I was dilated to an eight, I would forget the epidural, but if I was any less, I’d call for the anesthesiologist. Upon exam, I was between a six and seven, so I asked them to call.

He took a few minutes to get there, and had his own list of questions I had already answered 67 times each, but eventually got the job done. At this point, I was feeling a great deal of pressure, and when they checked, I had dilated to a nine and they were calling the midwife to come down. My blood pressure had still been going up, so they decided I needed oxygen. Helene arrived a few minutes later to find that I was basically fully dilated, and that I’d be able to push whenever I felt the urge. It was at this point that the epidural was just barely beginning to kick in, and I was starting to curse myself for being such a pansy rather than holding out another ten or fifteen minutes. However, in retrospect, I am very grateful I got it when I did.

As they were checking me, Rob decided he wanted to find out what was happening down there too (pretty funny, considering the doctor had to literally force him to look at anything with our first baby)! I guess now that he is a pre-med student, he’s a bit more open-minded. So, he also got his first intro to obstetrics, something that would NOT have happened without the epidural.

{This picture cracks me up...obviously an enlightening experience...totally at my expense.}

A few minutes later, I was feeling a little “pushy” and so we started the long process of moving baby down. This is where the difference between medical doctor care and midwifery became evident. What had gone pretty quickly with my first two definitely did not go very quickly with this one, and with a doctor, I know the slippery slope of interventions would have continued. Instead, even with the epidural, we pushed in just about every position imaginable, including (weirdly) basically being upside-down. 

Lucky for me, I had what must have been a “light” epidural and was still able to move around, stand, get on hands and knees, etc. Finally, after nearly two hours of pushing, our little man decided he was ready to join us.

Unlike Little Bird, who was out in practically a single contraction, this little fellow took a bit longer, and even with the epidural, the pain and pressure was more intense with this one. However, one of the neatest parts about this experience, both because he was a slower arrival and because of the midwife approach, was my ability to deliver him into my own hands, at my own pace. As baby crowned, I caught him in my hand and pushed at the rate that was comfortable for me. It was so miraculous to feel him come into the world into my hand, to hear everyone present ooh and ah as they saw him, and to hear Rob announce that he looked like his big brother. Another push and I felt a shoulder come loose; once more and both were free. Finally, his whole tiny body emerged and with the burst of activity among everyone waiting when baby arrives, I had my sweet, squirmy little man in my arms.

As I held him and marveled over him, the neonatologist gave him a once over amid exclamations from the midwives and nurses about how pink he was, and how well he was doing. He was able to start nursing immediately and did better than either of my other two did right away. It was as if he was out to prove to all of us what a tough little guy he was.

With Squirrel and Little Bird’s deliveries, the most immediate emotion that I felt was joy and pride. With this guy, though the joy was immense, it was relief that overcame me. The relief had nothing to do with the pain or fatigue of his delivery (which were both worse than Little Bird’s birth, and far easier than Squirrel’s), but with all the emotional turmoil I had been experiencing the last several weeks—the fear of complications that could cause stillbirth, the worry that he’d have problems breathing (or worse) from being induced early, the constant back-and-forth in my mind between thinking of the “what ifs” in preparation and trying to stay optimistic and faithful. For me, I was simply so grateful to finally see him in my arms. I kept whispering, “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so glad you’re here.” Along with all the ailments, he wins another first—he’s the first birth at which I cried, thanks to that sweet, immense relief that he was here and he was well.

  

In the end, I have been blessed far more than I deserve. Our family has grown, and with it, love expanded. I am so amazed at how well Little Bird and Squirrel have taken to him, how they want to see him and love him, how they know to be gentle and marvel at all his tiny parts, sing him songs, hurry to help, and shower him with affection. 

As always, I am grateful to have my husband as such a powerful support and priesthood leader, and to see his heart just swell with love at these tiny little beings. We are home now, trying to settle in to what will be the new routine of our lives as a family of five, and already it just feels “right.”

This life is a good life.  

Blessings,  

{Family of Four...for just a bit longer}

To celebrate the Memorial Day Holiday (including a rare day off of school for Rob) and to spend some one-on-one time with the kiddos before turning their world upside down with a new baby, we headed out to Mesa Falls in the Targhee National Forest for a picnic and a little "hike." Unfortunately, we didn't have the warm weather many others were enjoying; instead, we had a drizzly rain. We managed to enjoy ourselves anyway; the kids loved their picnic, the lodge full of animal skins they could touch, and seeing the waterfall.

{Well...Little Bird enjoyed the waterfall in retrospect...not as much seeing it up close!}

{We couldn't get him out of his daddy's arms for a photo, but Squirrel was happy to oblige.}

{Such a cool place, where you can get awfully close to the falls and see the 

micro-climate that grows as a result of the waterfall's mists.}

Off to be induced in the morning! 

We'll see you on the other side! 

Blessings,

Dental Woes

About two weeks before my induction was scheduled, I got the kids in to see the dentist, since I knew it would be a lot easier before baby came than after.

They both did great, but Squirrel had lots of bad news--several cavities, two bad enough to require crowns. The crowns had to go on opposite sides of her mouth, so that meant two appointments to accomplish all the work, since my preference was to avoid sedation. We also decided to cram them into a week, so that it would all be done before her little brother arrived.

At her first filling appointment, she was great--happy, compliant, brave, the works. The only thing she did complain about was the taste of the novocaine jelly, and she squawked a quick "Ouch" once while they were numbing her with that big ol' needle. Later, after we got home and the feeling started to return, she complained that she was hurting, but after some ibuprofen and a little nap, and she was as good as new.

Her second appointment didn't go quite as well. She was onto us that time and knew what was coming. She definitely entered the office with a level of trepidation that hadn't been there the first time around. While she hadn't had the nitrous oxide the first time, they decided to try it the second time. However, I think it only added to her anxiety as she didn't like the nose piece it came in and freaked a little, like she was feeling claustrophobic. When it came time to actually numb her, I felt like pretty much the worst mom ever--there's nothing like having to witness your child screaming bloody murder because of something you are having them do, even if it's for their ultimate benefit.

I think, either because there were more teeth to take care of on that side, or perhaps because of her obvious anxiety, that they numbed her up WAY more than the last time. Luckily, they were as quick as they could be, and then gave her a nice long break to relax. Also, the dentist and his staff are completely awesome. They were so sweet and patient and helped her through every step of the way. He was also super quick, which was great for all of us.

She was really exhausted after, and drooling like a drunk bulldog. At lunch time, she didn't want to eat anything. I even tried to offer her a milkshake to get something in her. She just looked at me pitifully and said, "I cmmph cumph ma mumppp." (Translation: "I can't close my mouth.") She wept mournfully when her brother had the audacity to tell me that she was "talking funny," one half of her face falling to the side as though she were a master of facial contortion.

After a couple hours though, she started to feel better. Still drooling copiously, she began to shout that she was feeling better, feeling happy, and would in fact take me up on that milk shake offer (this kid never forgets about sweets--a likely cause of her predicament in the first place). And it is this part of the day that made it all worth it: as she danced around happily in my office, wearing an oversized bib to catch all that drool and singing about how much better she felt, I couldn't resist snapping this photo, showing half her face, all the way from her chin to the bottom of her eye, just as numb as could be, drool running down her chin and splattered across her bib.

I think this will make an excellent photo for when she brings a boy home from college someday...

Poor kid. She's back in business now, with two shiny silver crowns to show for all her suffering, which she will proudly show to any person, friend or stranger, who she can get to look in her mouth.

Baby Update! And some crafting...

We're almost there! Literally just days away from meeting our new addition!

Look at this super round belly. I am getting SO EXCITED to meet the guy taking up all this space!

The last few weeks have been a bit of a roller coaster ride, taking me through the emotional insecurity of my complications, the very real possibility of more job changes, and the impending early birth of baby number three. However, I feel pretty confident that I am handling things much better in the past couple of weeks. We are in the home stretch, and everything is looking good!

The only negative was yet another positive--this time for Group B Strep. I didn't have that one either with the other two pregnancies, but this guy seems to want to be the first for everything. Really, when the midwife told me, I just laughed and explained that there would be absolutely NO MORE tests for anything, because I was certain they would come back positive. At this point, I'm pretty sure they could test me for Bubonic Plague and it would come back positive! In the end though, it's just another nuisance, and I am really trying to put my trust in the Lord. Ultimately, every time over the past few weeks that I have had a meltdown, it has been because I have become frustrated at MY lack of control in the situation, because I have tried to prepare for every possible outcome as a way of managing something I ultimately cannot manage. When I finally accepted the fact that everything, including my life and the life of the baby, is in the hands of the Lord, I found a lot more peace. He has brought me through some serious struggles in the past, and every challenge He has brought me TO, he has also brought me THROUGH.

Baby is still kicking and dancing away, the NSTs show that he is very healthy, and my body has definitely been preparing itself for labor with lots of contractions and some dilation. It's Memorial Day Monday today, which means that I will be 37 weeks along tomorrow, and right now, the plan is to induce in two days (Wednesday). Of course, I have hopes that I won't have to be induced, that maybe, just MAYBE, this child will cooperate with me (even though that doesn't seem to be his favorite thing to do for me!) and come on his own tomorrow. Either way, I am working to find peace, and enjoy the time I have left with Rob, Squirrel and Little Bird before our lives are overtaken by the chaos of a new little being, the sleepless nights and demanding days, and learning how to be a family of five.

I've been making a few things for baby, as I love the feeling of wrapping my children in items handcrafted by loving, albeit amateur, hands.

I spent 50-60 hours making his crochet blanket. Squirrel and Little Bird each have crochet blankies, made by my sister, Traci, and my mom, respectively. They both attached to them around a year old, and still drag those things everywhere. This time, I feel like my own abilities have advanced enough that I was able to create something for him myself, and made this (if I say so myself) really beautiful basket weave blanket. I love the pattern and how it turned out. (If you want instructions, they came from here, with a bit of modification on the edging.)

I've also worked on creating several little pairs of crochet pants for him. They work as regular pants, but also as cloth diaper covers. I made them in a newborn size, as well as a REALLY tiny preemie size. I figure if he's too big for the preemie outfit (which really is ridiculously small--everyone that has seen it in real life usually lets out a squeal with an exclamation like, "Oh it's SO TINY!"), I can leave it at the hospital for another family that may need it. 

Whichever one fits will likely be his coming home outfit:  

I also had a super sweet and amazingly talented friend send me some gorgeous yarn she hand-dyed for another pair. I made these a bit bigger--about 3 month size--to make sure he gets to wear them, whether he's a tiny preemie or a monster gestational diabetes baby. I'm hoping to get a chance to dye some little tops in the rainbow colors and stencil them with fun designs.

I've also sewn up some receiving blankets, burp rags, cloth diapers and diaper covers. I know he won't really appreciate the gesture, but there is some sort of quiet joy I feel wrapping a baby in handmade goodness. It makes me feel connected to mothers through the ages, I think, to take something and turn it into something more for my child with just a little love, time, and work. It's the same type of feeling I get as I sit up in the late hours, rocking in the chair I will nurse him and feeling my child move within. There is a connection, yes, to my child, but also to a greater network of love and maternity, of the divine role of "mother." In these last days and weeks, I have been so blessed to find that connection and draw a level of peace and comfort that words cannot describe.

Blessings,

My Little Ballerina

One of Squirrel's favorite things to do is dance. I swear this child even danced in the womb, and hasn't stopped moving since. She participates in ballet classes here in our little town and really enjoys it. She loves to dance, but I think that more than dancing, she loves an audience. For that reason, the most exciting part of the year for her is her ballet recital. I am amazed at the way she "turns on" for an audience and relishes the applause. This is her second year in ballet, and this year, the school put on selections from "Alice in Wonderland."

Squirrel's class got to dance as the "Sweets" in the Mad Tea Party.

I have to say, there was something about seeing her dance this year that stopped my heart. She seemed so grown up and graceful. I saw this year, in this little preschooler, the seeds of elegance and self-awareness. Part of that is probably that my new work schedule prohibits me from taking her to ballet class each week--a precious privilege now delegated to the babysitter--, so I don't get to see her growth, but part of it is that my wiry, clumsy preschooler is becoming a beautiful girl, and by the next time I blink, she'll be a young lady, and then a young woman. Oh, how I adore seeing her grow and bloom and blossom...but oh, how I cling to her precious innocence at each stage. She is lovely beyond measure, and as silly as it may seem, something like a little small-town ballet recital can so easily remind me how desperate I am to help her turn into the woman I know she can be.

Sigh...so much babbling...my apologies. She is about to have a birthday, I am about to have a baby, and all this makes me extra sentimental.

Without further ado, here are a few photos of my little "Sweet," the joy of my heart.

{That smile will win me over even when my sight is all but gone and 

all I have is a dim memory of its glimmer...}

{After the show}

Me and Baby

So, apparently, someone wants to be the baby of the family! This kid has given me a run for my money since the beginning. As I mentioned in previous posts, I had considerably more morning sickness with this one than the last two, but I chalked it up to age, and the fact that I wasn't suffering through debilitating migraines like I did with the other two. (And to be honest, I'll take the sickies over those migraines!) However, the high levels of hormones causing the morning sickness evidently had more in store for me.

The first sign of trouble was my glucose test, which I failed quite impressively. They want your glucose to be under about 130 for the one-hour test...mine was 208. So I had to take another test, a three-hour. No biggie; my midwives tell me that only 30 percent who fail the first test fail the second, and I don't have a history of large babies or diabetes, nor am I overweight. Lucky for me, I'm in the top 30 percent, and I did even more poorly on this fasting test. Not only was my blood glucose too high on the fasting portion, but instead of being below 140 for the first hour, I was 283. !WOW! That's a bad score. In fact, they tested me again, just to make sure there wasn't some kind of malfunction. The good news was I didn't have to stick around for the next two hours. The bad news was I got to leave with a diagnosis of gestational diabetes. Lucky me.

That was Tuesday. On Tuesday, I felt like a big fat failure who was also a little sad about having to completely give up the Dr. Pepper (again). Wednesday I met with the nutritionist and left feeling empowered and ready to take on the challenge. I dutifully picked up my blood glucose meter and started pricking my finger. (This is now a family affair because to a three-year-old and a four-year-old, there is apparently nothing more exciting than watching Mommy poke her finger and "put the blood on a stick.") I was doing great.

Thursday, I started itching.

Now, when I say I started itching, I don't mean to say that I had a benign, generalized itch, or that I was experiencing the typical belly and hips itching that women experience as their skin stretches over their burgeoning bodies. I don't even mean that I was itching in a way similar to having a particularly bad reaction to poison ivy, or a bee sting, or developing hives. Oh, no, friend. This was a sudden, intense, positively consuming itch that over took every inch of skin I had. I itched inside my ears. Even my eyelids itched. Having vaguely remembered reading something about calling one's doctor if this happened, I told Rob, "I think this is SOMEthing...I think I better call."So even though it was late and it had only been going on a short while, the intensity drove me to call my midwives. Now, if you know me well, you know I have a tendency towards hypochondria, and I fully expected my midwives to tell me to take some Benadryl and that I'd be like new in the morning. Unfortunately, she told me to take some benadryl in the hopes that it would knock me out (it did not), and to get myself into their office as soon as it opened in the morning for some blood work.

That night I barely slept for all the itching--waking every 45 minutes or so to soak in ice water--, and in the morning, I had a pretty awful talk with my midwife. They felt pretty confident that, given the itching with a total lack of rash, as well as a couple less conversational symptoms, that my blood work would come back showing elevated liver enzymes and elevated bile acids, both diagnostic of something called Intrahepatic Cholestasis of Pregnancy, or ICP.

Now, let me insert here that having a conversation with your midwives that includes things like "amniocentesis," "35 week induction," and "fetal demise" is pretty much the best way possible to cause a meltdown in a pregnant woman. Nevertheless, I held it together until I talked to my mom on the phone, and again when I got to speak to Rob.

We had to wait until Monday to get the results, and in the meantime, I found out that my cousin had also had ICP (it has a strong genetic component), and she gave me some great resources. I read all I could on the subject to prepare myself, and on Monday, I had lots of questions to ask. When my midwife called on Monday, she let me know that the results showed I did have elevated bile acids, and that meant ICP was another diagnosis in the same week as my gestational diabetes. Both disorders have a very high likelihood of returning in any future pregnancies. Like I said, this little man is apparently working hard to be the baby of the family! :)

The midwives and one of the doctors in the practice met that day to discuss how to manage my care, and thankfully, came to conclusions that I was hoping for.

ICP is a fairly rare condition (one source said 1 to 2 cases in 1000 pregnancies) caused by hormones in pregnancy creating a malfunction of the common bile duct, which creates a build up of bile acids in the blood. It is only resolved by birthing the baby. While ICP doesn't carry any serious risks for me--simply this insanity-inducing itchiness--it does carry some serious risks for baby, including stillbirth. Other risks are early spontaneous labor (in as many as 60% of women), fetal distress, meconium passage in utero and aspiration, and hemorrhaging. Fortunately, with the use of medication, fetal monitoring, and early induction, the risk of stillbirth in ICP babies can be brought down to about the same level as in typical pregnancies.

So, from here on out, I will be seeing my midwives weekly for blood testing, non-stress tests (or NSTs), and medication adjustments, if needed. They won't be letting me get past my 37th week, and if I am extremely symptomatic, or the meds don't work to bring down my bile acid levels, we may need to do an amnio and deliver even earlier than that. So far, I've been on the medication about 3 days, and I think I am just starting to experience a lessening of this dreadful itch. That is a good sign, and hopefully we can make it to 37 weeks.

This whole ordeal is, admittedly, kind of scary. In spite of the medication and early induction, I do sometimes have those "freak out moments" where I worry about what I would need to do if the baby doesn't make it. And I've also had to adjust my idea of an "ideal birth" this time around. Of course, I'd like to have another natural childbirth, but really, I don't care how baby gets here, just that he does so safely. I'm so grateful right now that baby has always been so active and that I know he is still kicking around in there. I'm grateful for priesthood blessings and the comfort of the Holy Ghost, and I am so grateful for the prayers and thoughts of my friends and family over the past week!

In a way, I am excited we'll be getting to meet this little man a month sooner than we thought; I just wish it were under better circumstances! All in all, I know that we are getting good care and I feel safe in the hands of my midwives. I'm also blessed to know a couple of people who have been through this and have beautiful, healthy babies to show for it. I will be so happy to add my little guy to that list!

So, that's the whole scoop on me and baby. Prayers and thoughts are so appreciated!
And, since no post is really complete without a photo, here is a quick photo of me with my round belly, just a few days before all this craziness!

For more information on Intrahepatic Cholestasis of Pregnancy, please check out this great website, full of information, treatment plans, and medical journal entries: ICPcare.org