Wonder

Everyday Wisdom

Then he said to them all: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me."

Luke 9:23

Being a mother and a wife seems like the hardest thing to do, the hardest thing I have ever done. There are days when God seems far away, although I know He is always near. Draw near to me and I will draw near to you, Jesus said. But drawing near to Jesus is hard when there’s not really much to do, when all that’s expected of me in my day is to watch over my eldest who is a year and a half and my youngest who is almost three months old. People are right in both regards – when they say being a full-time mom is boring and when they say being a full-time mom is the most rewarding (and important) thing in the world.

In many ways, being a mother is incredibly boring. Nothing much happens during the day. There are long stretches of time I want to fill with something – even the inane sounds of day time television. These are the times that are perfect breeding grounds for dissatisfaction, discouragement and doubt, all things that take me farther away from God. Satan, it seems, is always just lurking around the corner lately, waiting for me with his arsenal poised in my head.

Within all the day-to-day minutiae however something pretty incredible is happening – my children are growing up. And it is in precisely these moments when I’m not thinking about what I’m saying, when the temptation to yell at them arises, when everything I do seems to be worth very little, it is in those very moments that they are growing up. And when I actually understand that – when I know that in my bones – the boredom and tediousness of every single day of diapering, laundry, feeding, changing, bathing, planning groceries, planning meals, budgeting, cooking, working, seems to melt away. 

For that is the cup my Father has given me. That is my cross. And I will bear it with gratitude and a certain reverence. For His yoke is easy and His burden is light.

Bombie Sings...

... and she seems to have a natural talent for it. Wonder where THAT came from!

I'm Singing the Blues...

Well, not exactly "singing" but I've had a touch of the baby blues. I always thought I knew what to expect but this time it hit me with no knowing. As it turns out, I went to Kaiser for Hucksley's two week appointment after picking a huge fight with James and his mother for a bed (mattress) that I saw as an extravagant purchase. I should have known better. When I couldn't check email that morning without crying I should have canceled. But I thought getting out would feel good. Ugh.

This is how it happened. I was a nervous wreck already about taking TWO kids out. I knew I could handle one, no idea what to do with two. What if one flipped out, etc. So I'm already crazy to begin with, then there's NO PARKING to be seen for miles in that stupid parking lot. So I drive around until I see a spot and take it. To top that the double stroller won't hold the infant seat, so I'm wondering what the heck to do with the infant. Ugh. If I hadn't just had a baby I would have had the brain chemistry to figure out that I could have just left the seat and taken the infant in the back. But no. Here's what I decided I had to do: carry the car seat and make Bombie WALK to the pediatrician. All well and good so far because I carried her through the parking lot and then made her walk inside the building.

The problem really arose when we got done with the appointment and left. That's when it occurred to me that I had no idea where we had parked. So here I was with a car seat and a ten pound baby in one hand and a twenty-five pound toddler in another. Ugh. Can I say UGH again? I was left circling the parking lot like that for an hour. Talk about disorientation!!! And poor Bombie has just learned to walk so I carried her most of the way because I was terrified of the cars.

Well, we all survived of course, but that was the low point of my baby blues. I chalk it up to mainly waking up EVERY HOUR to feed the newborn so James finally moved him into another room and we all sleep better. Thank goodness.

I have realized however that I need to really examine what's going on when I can't or won't pray. When I started hearing Him and talking to Him again I know it was over. I know Christians say this all the time but God doesn't stop communicating with us or sending us love. It's just that sometimes we stop listening and accepting it. That's how I felt throughout these baby blues. I think they're over now.

Let's hope so!

Penned in the Wee Hours in my Head

These are days of nighttime feedings and diaper changes. Bottles and burpings. These are days of pounds and ounces and baby gurgles and tiny socks.

We are not sleeping.

Let's not try to make this something it's not.

This too shall pass.

Welcome Baby Hucksley!

He's here everyone! All 8 pounds 12 ounces of him! He's even taller than his older sister at 21.5 inches. He arrived on December 20th 2009 at 2:08am. I'm such a proud mom!

It was a long, long labor at 28.5 hours. I had been in prodormal labor for a while already so when I hit 40 weeks the doctors wanted to induce. (See previous post.) Being that I had pregnancy-induced hypertension and was 4 cms they said it wouldn't be a problem. But I really wanted to know what it was like to do it naturally with no drugs. I wanted to know how far I could trust my body. I now understand the famous answer some mountain climber quipped when asked why he climbed Mt. Everest. "Because it's there!" he said. It's a lot like that.

With Bombie the birth was medicated, induced. I asked for an epidural. I tore, got stitches, healing was much, much longer. So this time we were determined to stay home as long as possible. Well, we did. Right up until transition. Labor contractions began at 9:30pm on December 18th. I timed them and they were about 12 - 18 minutes apart. I couldn't sleep through them but I did doze between them and tried to relax. Labor had definitely begun. I thought, okay, tomorrow. Boy, was I wrong!

All through the next day, labor puttered in and out. I couldn't lay down and nap, I couldn't do much except watch TV, walk around a little and time contractions. Since it was Saturday, James was home and we sat and timed them. We were waiting for them to get to 5 minutes apart or less for an hour before getting to the hospital. I had had my "show" but my water was intact so there was no rush. Somewhere in the day I got on the treadmill and walked a bit to get things going again and then he took me to Target. I was in no mood to talk to anyone or interact, but walking with him was good. Every time a contraction came, I leaned into him. We puttered some more around the house, got Chinese to eat and I tried to ignore Bombie each time she wanted to be picked up. Felt bad about that, but I just couldn't.

What else did we do? Oh yeah, we sat through about two parts of The Lord of the Rings, tried different labor positions until I decided sitting on the edge of the couch seemed to be the most comfortable. Towards the evening I began to get more vocal and moaned / hummed. That's when we knew we were getting close. At about 9:30 that night I began to shake. We were getting really close. Still, I wanted to avoid pitocin, being strapped down, etc. and we were so, so close that we wanted to get a good pattern going before leaving. At around 10 things shifted into really high gear. Contractions were beginning to come at 4 - 5 minutes apart, hurt more and there was pressure like I was sitting on the baby's head. That's when we left. I believe it was something like 10:45pm.

The hospital was about a half hour away and I had about 4 - 5 contractions on the way there. As soon as they saw us come in, they knew we were staying. The triage doctor checked me and said I was at 8 cms. Then he says, Is your baby breech? I almost died. A quick ultrasound said no. I had been checking my cervix off and on all day, so I knew anyway but it was nice to let go of that last little bit of worry. They checked me into labor and delivery at about 11:30.

Contractions were now coming 4 minutes apart and lasting about a minute or more. I had the most indescribable urge to push. I zoomed from 8 to 9.5 cms in just a few minutes and when the midwife came at 12:45 I was ready to have him out already. She broke my water and he was born in about an hour from then. No tears, no stitches. That's the beauty of the human body. I love it.

I know, I'm beginning to sound like a natural labor nazi, but the difference between Sierra's birth and this one was so huge I can't even compare it. Yes, the contractions hurt, but besides that, recovery was so much faster. I was up and walking around 9 hours after giving birth, had the catheter removed, got no stitches and walked to the car 24 hours later. I felt strong and in control, I was able to push in the position I wanted and even though I kept saying "I can't, I can't" while pushing, when the urge to push came and I was in the middle of it, it was so primal and so strong, there was no way anything could have stopped the baby's birth. I'd say pushing was about 100 times more effective without an epidural. I could tell it used every muscle in my body because everything from my ribs to my gums were sore for a day after.

If I had to give birth again this is how I would do it. But I doubt I could have done it without my husband, James. I think I fell in love with him all over again that day. He was strong for me when I couldn't be and wanted to go to the hospital early. He was there for me to lean into, all 6 feet 4 inches of him and he was there cheering me on when I was pushing our son out.

I was the one who went through labor, but it was us - James and me - who birthed our son together. I couldn't have asked for anything more.

Not Yet!

Well, as it turns out, after telling all my friends that I was having the baby induced yesterday we decided against it. I'm still hoping I will go into labor on my own and if not we will induce him next week on Wednesday morning.

More than anything, I was irritated at how the hospital staff seemed to rush me into wanting to induce the baby yesterday. Hospitals here are notorious anyway for shoving their way in between a married couple so we are always on high alert when we're in there. It just bugs me how each time we go in they make every attempt to separate James and me and then ask me if I'm being beaten. Just another reason I hate the Nanny State of California. Any wonder my blood pressure shoots up in the hospital? Ha!

Anyway, so I told the nurse what I thought about their stupid "policy" yesterday and then was being monitored for hypertension. Obviously, the BP was high throughout. So they were concerned about pre-eclampsia. Here is the most precise information I have found on Wikipedia. Yesterday, they insisted I had it, even though I had only "trace protein" in my urine (from not having eaten all day - thanks for making me run around, hospitals!) and my blood tests were normal. I finally had to ask the doctor how much protein was in my blood and she said 20mg. Excuse me? Pre-eclampsia diagnosis needs 300mg!!!

But the doctor kept wanting to send me for an induction. "But you're 40 weeks, so there's no problem." She kept insisting that it was our call but there was nothing in her demeanor that made it seem like I had a choice after SHE had decided what was best for me. Ugh. If I have another baby, it will not be in California.

So that put me on high alert. But when they start talking about how I could have a stroke or the baby could die and/or we could both have neurological damage, it gets scary real quick. But what they don't mention is that C-sections have their own issues and complications. Heck, life can be a complication - there's no way to rule out all risks. I was feeling like a trapped animal, so we decided to schedule an induction for next week. That way the boy has until 41 weeks to get here, it's still before Christmas (so he won't feel like everyone is "partied out" when he gets older and it's his birthday) and I still have a shot at this going naturally.

We'll see. Here was the caveat though. The nurse saw what I said she told me that the hospital was highly interventionist. She said she had PIH throughout both her pregnancies and her kids are just fine. She said she refused induction and an epidural for her second as well and he was healthy as can be. I think if hospitals really meant all the crap they spouted about respecting their patients and treating them well, their approach would be vastly different than just pushing people into unnecessary procedures. If you trust US hospitals with labor and delivery, do some research into the statistics. They're appalling. Appalling. And yet they have the nerve to get you to sign a waiver that says you are leaving against medical advice.

Which I did yesterday. We'll see how much more crap I have to tolerate before this baby is home.