As newlyweds, my husband and I were given a DVD called "Laugh Your Way to a Better Marriage" by Mark Gunger. In it, he describes the four "countries" that people come from, as far as their personality is concerned. These "countries"of Fun, Perfect, Control, and Peace help to determine your personality compatibility.
Not surprisingly, after taking the test, my primary country was determined to be Peace. But Peace is not what I want to talk about today. The part that some people would find surprising is my secondary country: Control.
I will admit, I'm not terribly astounded at this revelation, as my husband was. As I examine myself, I see more and more truth in this "country", and though it is not a new characteristic, I can see it more clearly now.
The reason people don't see me as 'controlling' is probably because of my primary "country". To keep the "Peace", I don't express my feelings about the things that I feel are out of control. And sometimes, I do believe I become more crazy about it by the day because of that. Sound like a bad combination? I think so.
It sure makes it hard to sit back and let people help me, even my husband sometimes, because I cannot be sure that it will be done 'my way'. I have discovered, however, that I have to let other people do things, because now I have a baby to take care of, and I'm no super-mom. I struggle to keep my daughter happy, and sometimes that comes at the expense of a clean house or other chores. If I were to insist that everyone do things my way, they would eventually quit trying.
And so I have had to learn to at least try to let go of 'my way' and my control, and to appreciate what other people are willing to do for me. I have come a long way, but I do confess that I still have a long way to go on this journey. Be patient with me, cause "He's still workin' on me".
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Discoveries
It is strange how some discoveries are days, weeks, or even longer, in the making. A conversation that I had today brought home a discovery about myself and my personality that I have been toying with for several years of my adult life.
As a child, I lived under the shadow of my older sister. She was, and still is, a very outgoing person. As the second child, coming after an outgoing and talkative sister, I was content to let her talk and I was certainly not as outgoing as she was. I was much quieter, and I kept things to myself most of the time.
With this background, it should come as no surprise that I was pegged as "shy". And I probably was shy, to some extent, but as I grew older I felt I was growing out of the shyness. But I continued being labeled as shy because I never became as outgoing as my sister. At least this is the reason I attribute to the label. I don't blame anyone for this label, I was certainly the quieter sister, and I preferred it that way. But I do wonder if a label such as shy, outgoing, or hyper can become a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. Did I remain quite or shy because I always heard that's what I was?
As an adult, I have thought about this a lot. Sometimes I am confused, because I enjoy the company of others so much, and I don't feel shy or awkward in social settings. But shouldn't I feel that way, if I am truly shy?
It occurred to me today that I am a very social person. I may be quiet, and I'm certainly still not as outgoing as my sister is, but I no longer believe that is the definition of shy.
This discovery probably won't make any difference in the way I live my life, after all, I'm already participating is social situations as much as I can. But it does make me wonder, how can I keep from placing labels on my daughter so that her character can develop at her own pace? And how can I use my own experience and this discovery to encourage her development? Can I keep from comparing her to other children, and just let her be who she is going to be?
I pray that I can do just that, and I am eagerly looking forward to the beautiful person she is growing into.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Growing
As I focus on my daughter's growth and achievements, I often overlook my own growth. As each day brings changes in her abilities and her personality, my personal development is put on the back burner. Every now and then I get a glimpse of something, and usually when that happens it is something from which I need to learn a difficult lesson.
Such a moment happened this morning, and I have to admit I did not like what I saw. In that brief reflection, I saw a character defect that has been present for many years, and yet I have not been inclined to let it go. Even as I write this, something in me wants to hold on to this hurt, as if it is somehow protecting me from a more difficult and painful fate.
1 Peter 5:6-7 says "So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time He will lift you up in honor. Give all your worries and cares to God, for He cares about you."
This verse is so important for me to keep in mind at a moment like this, because I see the root issue to be a matter of pride. And I need to constantly be humbling myself before God, so that He can take my character defects and make me all that He wants me to be. I pray that I can remember this during the painful experience that is spiritual and character growth.
Such a moment happened this morning, and I have to admit I did not like what I saw. In that brief reflection, I saw a character defect that has been present for many years, and yet I have not been inclined to let it go. Even as I write this, something in me wants to hold on to this hurt, as if it is somehow protecting me from a more difficult and painful fate.
1 Peter 5:6-7 says "So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time He will lift you up in honor. Give all your worries and cares to God, for He cares about you."
This verse is so important for me to keep in mind at a moment like this, because I see the root issue to be a matter of pride. And I need to constantly be humbling myself before God, so that He can take my character defects and make me all that He wants me to be. I pray that I can remember this during the painful experience that is spiritual and character growth.
Monday, May 23, 2011
First Impressions
It was Friday afternoon, and we finally had the keys to our new house. I was very excited, for sure, and who wouldn't be? But there are so many conveniences in life that I was missing out on, simply because of the apartment we were living in the last four months.
One thing I was very excited for was that now we would have our own laundry machines again. And I could start using the cloth diapers on my daughter. You might call me crazy, but I was eagerly looking forward to using the cloth diapers, and I've had to wait until we moved into the house to start. She is now four months old.
We got the laundry machines in, first thing, but one thing after another was wrong with them, so they weren't actually ready to use until late that night. And so I waited until Saturday morning to put that first diaper on her. And then off to church we went.
So, you ask, what happened? How do you like them? And I would anser, that I really like them a lot! After using disposables for the last four months, I can say that the cloth diapers are a big improvement. So far, the biggest benefit I've noticed is in the lack of blowouts. I can say with confidence that the vast majority of the time she had a poopy diaper in disposables, she would be wearing it somewhere on her clothes. Probably about 95% of the time, or more. Now, since Saturday morning, she has not had any get on her clothing.
Yesterday, Sunday, I ran a load of the diapers because I wanted to see how it was to wash them. I simply tossed the diapers in the laundry (without removing the inserts) and ran a cold cycle, then ran a hot cycle with half of the amount of detergent that I would normally use for clothes, and when that was done, then an extra rinse. I opted to line dry all of them, since the inserts had some staining still on them. It worked fabulously, all are now white again. Of course, I left the inserts out longer, and didn't bring them in overnight, and today they got rained on. Oh well, you win some and you loose some. That was my fault, and totally fixable.
I have been taking the cloth diapers along with us when we are out and about, and they are just as convenient as the disposables, in my opinion. You do have to take them home, but we did that a lot with disposables, too.
I still wish I had known about the SunBaby diapers, because they are much cheaper than our BumGenius, but I really have no regrets. I have even been recommending cloth diapers to mothers who seem open to the idea but haven't made that final plunge. I'm a believer! Of course, this is my first impression of the diapers, and I will be watching to see how white they stay in the long run. I will most likely be writing more on this subject in the future, so stay tuned!
One thing I was very excited for was that now we would have our own laundry machines again. And I could start using the cloth diapers on my daughter. You might call me crazy, but I was eagerly looking forward to using the cloth diapers, and I've had to wait until we moved into the house to start. She is now four months old.
We got the laundry machines in, first thing, but one thing after another was wrong with them, so they weren't actually ready to use until late that night. And so I waited until Saturday morning to put that first diaper on her. And then off to church we went.
So, you ask, what happened? How do you like them? And I would anser, that I really like them a lot! After using disposables for the last four months, I can say that the cloth diapers are a big improvement. So far, the biggest benefit I've noticed is in the lack of blowouts. I can say with confidence that the vast majority of the time she had a poopy diaper in disposables, she would be wearing it somewhere on her clothes. Probably about 95% of the time, or more. Now, since Saturday morning, she has not had any get on her clothing.
Yesterday, Sunday, I ran a load of the diapers because I wanted to see how it was to wash them. I simply tossed the diapers in the laundry (without removing the inserts) and ran a cold cycle, then ran a hot cycle with half of the amount of detergent that I would normally use for clothes, and when that was done, then an extra rinse. I opted to line dry all of them, since the inserts had some staining still on them. It worked fabulously, all are now white again. Of course, I left the inserts out longer, and didn't bring them in overnight, and today they got rained on. Oh well, you win some and you loose some. That was my fault, and totally fixable.
I have been taking the cloth diapers along with us when we are out and about, and they are just as convenient as the disposables, in my opinion. You do have to take them home, but we did that a lot with disposables, too.
I still wish I had known about the SunBaby diapers, because they are much cheaper than our BumGenius, but I really have no regrets. I have even been recommending cloth diapers to mothers who seem open to the idea but haven't made that final plunge. I'm a believer! Of course, this is my first impression of the diapers, and I will be watching to see how white they stay in the long run. I will most likely be writing more on this subject in the future, so stay tuned!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
To be Continued...
...Because I have no choice. Oh, I've tried the alternative, and I keep trying it every now and then, but she won't have anything to do with it.
I'm talking about feeding, breastfeeding to be more specific. You know the definition of insanity? To do the same thing over and over again expecting different results. Well, I guess I'm not truly insane, because at least I'm no longer expecting different results. Even the professionals say it's just her, nothing will help. I can tell you that's not what you want to hear when you are on the brink of tears whenever feeding time comes around. To be truthful, I'm on the brink of tears even between feedings, but it all started there. I just haven't been able to stabilize that and it's spilling over to the rest of my days.
It sounds pathetic, I know, to be so depressed over something that happens only 6-8 times a day. I mean, can't I just endure it and get over it? But then it happens, again, and I remember all the other times, and they just build on each other, so every day is compounded. It is exhausting to fight with your infant day in and day out over every feeding.
So why do I not switch to formula? There is that million-dollar question. I have tried formula, several times, at least to give myself a break once a day. But the girl is finicky, she knows what the good stuff is, and she won't take anything less. Today I tried a new formula, one that comes all ready to serve. It was the best attempt so far, she drank a whole two ounces. Of course, half of it dribbled down her chin, but it was still our biggest success with formula. And then she wouldn't touch the next two-ounce bottle.
And then there is this pesky little feeling of guilt every time I try to give her formula. What is that all about? As if I'm short-changing my daughter by giving her iron-fortified formula that has much of the same nutrients breast milk has. No matter how many times I'm told it is okay, and she'll be fine on formula, I still get that twinge of guilt whenever I try it, or even when I fantasize about switching over completely.
The other alternative would be to pump exclusively and give her breast milk from a bottle. This is something she has no problem with, and it is so easy to feed her this way. Unfortunately, it is not as easy to keep up with the demand, and for this reason I have not entertained the idea for long.
So, in the end, it seems that there is no doubt that this saga is to be continued...
I'm talking about feeding, breastfeeding to be more specific. You know the definition of insanity? To do the same thing over and over again expecting different results. Well, I guess I'm not truly insane, because at least I'm no longer expecting different results. Even the professionals say it's just her, nothing will help. I can tell you that's not what you want to hear when you are on the brink of tears whenever feeding time comes around. To be truthful, I'm on the brink of tears even between feedings, but it all started there. I just haven't been able to stabilize that and it's spilling over to the rest of my days.
It sounds pathetic, I know, to be so depressed over something that happens only 6-8 times a day. I mean, can't I just endure it and get over it? But then it happens, again, and I remember all the other times, and they just build on each other, so every day is compounded. It is exhausting to fight with your infant day in and day out over every feeding.
So why do I not switch to formula? There is that million-dollar question. I have tried formula, several times, at least to give myself a break once a day. But the girl is finicky, she knows what the good stuff is, and she won't take anything less. Today I tried a new formula, one that comes all ready to serve. It was the best attempt so far, she drank a whole two ounces. Of course, half of it dribbled down her chin, but it was still our biggest success with formula. And then she wouldn't touch the next two-ounce bottle.
And then there is this pesky little feeling of guilt every time I try to give her formula. What is that all about? As if I'm short-changing my daughter by giving her iron-fortified formula that has much of the same nutrients breast milk has. No matter how many times I'm told it is okay, and she'll be fine on formula, I still get that twinge of guilt whenever I try it, or even when I fantasize about switching over completely.
The other alternative would be to pump exclusively and give her breast milk from a bottle. This is something she has no problem with, and it is so easy to feed her this way. Unfortunately, it is not as easy to keep up with the demand, and for this reason I have not entertained the idea for long.
So, in the end, it seems that there is no doubt that this saga is to be continued...
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Burning Questions
As I set out to start a blog, I was planning to only write one entry per day, if that (since I didn't know where to come up with material). But today I am on my second, because there has been a recent event town that got me to thinking.
Yesterday evening (Tuesday), at approximately 6 pm, a young man was shot and killed in the first known gang related homicide in Walla Walla. I'm tempted to let this scare me, but as my husband says, it's only scary if you let it be. My trust is in the Lord, who can destroy me? Yes, because it is gang related and I am not involved in a gang, that makes it a little safer for me. Still, this was somebody's family member, and gang member or not, somebody had to care about him.
So the questions begin, and they aren't questions that I have answers to, nor do I expect any answers in return. There are some questions that will never be answered on this earth, and the answers to which I may never even understand.
My thoughts take me to the core reason that gangs exist, which I believe to be pure hatred. At least from my viewpoint, that seems to be their sole reason for existence. So then my question really is "how do they decide who to hate?" "How does a rivalry come about between gangs?" "And what draws an individual into an organization or group that hates individuals/groups that they don't even know, most likely?"
And then there's the most important question of all: "What can we, as a community, do to prevent gang activity in our community?"
As I said before, I don't have the answers, only questions. I am sad to see that my daughter will be growing up in a community where gangs and violence exist, but I know that our hope is in the Lord, and I pray that I can instill the fear and love of God in her heart as she grows.
Yesterday evening (Tuesday), at approximately 6 pm, a young man was shot and killed in the first known gang related homicide in Walla Walla. I'm tempted to let this scare me, but as my husband says, it's only scary if you let it be. My trust is in the Lord, who can destroy me? Yes, because it is gang related and I am not involved in a gang, that makes it a little safer for me. Still, this was somebody's family member, and gang member or not, somebody had to care about him.
So the questions begin, and they aren't questions that I have answers to, nor do I expect any answers in return. There are some questions that will never be answered on this earth, and the answers to which I may never even understand.
My thoughts take me to the core reason that gangs exist, which I believe to be pure hatred. At least from my viewpoint, that seems to be their sole reason for existence. So then my question really is "how do they decide who to hate?" "How does a rivalry come about between gangs?" "And what draws an individual into an organization or group that hates individuals/groups that they don't even know, most likely?"
And then there's the most important question of all: "What can we, as a community, do to prevent gang activity in our community?"
As I said before, I don't have the answers, only questions. I am sad to see that my daughter will be growing up in a community where gangs and violence exist, but I know that our hope is in the Lord, and I pray that I can instill the fear and love of God in her heart as she grows.
The Waiting Game
"Then Abraham waited patiently, and he received what God had promised." Hebrews 6:15
This verse caught my attention during my morning devotions today. Now, I haven't had to wait as long as Abraham did, for anything. But recently, my patience has been tested, and I'm afraid it has been found wanting. Today I'm not referring to patience as a parenting strength. That is another subject altogether, and one I also believe I have been lacking. As I said, however, that is not the subject today.
You see, my husband and I made a decision late last year to have a house built. We chose the lot and the building began in mid February of this year. I have been thoroughly enjoying watching the process, and taking pictures to add to my facebook page to share with those who cannot see it in person. As the progress slowed, or so it seemed, and there wasn't always new things to photograph, I started becoming anxious for the house to be finished, since it seemed very livable and almost done for some time. I guess don't put me in charge of the detail work, it might not get done!
At last, the house is finished. The carpet is laid, it is all painted, doors are up, appliances are in, and the sod has been laid in the front yard and seed in the back. The house is finished. And here I find I am the most impatient of all. Waiting. Waiting for something I cannot see, and I have no control over: paperwork. While I know that our process has gone very smoothly in comparison to other banks and others buying homes, I find I am annoyed and impatient over the small delays we have experienced.
The other thing I find is that I am a pessimist. Maybe more of a realist? I don't know. I used to think I was more of an optimist, but I have to change my mind. Looking back, I've always been this way. I make predictions based on the bad that can happen, not the good. Like the times we could have closed on the house, each day we were told it was possible, I predicted that it would not happen, and so far I've been right. I use the excuse that I don't want to get my hopes up, but I have to admit that I do anyway, and then I am far more disappointed.
So as I sit here in our temporary 600 (approx.) square foot apartment, next to my daughter napping in her swing, I think to myself "will we really be in the new house by this weekend?" And for the first time in this whole process, I think it actually might happen. We've waited (somewhat) patiently, and we WILL receive what the Lord promised us. And that, thank the Lord, applies not only to this house on this earth, but our permanent home in heaven.
This verse caught my attention during my morning devotions today. Now, I haven't had to wait as long as Abraham did, for anything. But recently, my patience has been tested, and I'm afraid it has been found wanting. Today I'm not referring to patience as a parenting strength. That is another subject altogether, and one I also believe I have been lacking. As I said, however, that is not the subject today.
You see, my husband and I made a decision late last year to have a house built. We chose the lot and the building began in mid February of this year. I have been thoroughly enjoying watching the process, and taking pictures to add to my facebook page to share with those who cannot see it in person. As the progress slowed, or so it seemed, and there wasn't always new things to photograph, I started becoming anxious for the house to be finished, since it seemed very livable and almost done for some time. I guess don't put me in charge of the detail work, it might not get done!
At last, the house is finished. The carpet is laid, it is all painted, doors are up, appliances are in, and the sod has been laid in the front yard and seed in the back. The house is finished. And here I find I am the most impatient of all. Waiting. Waiting for something I cannot see, and I have no control over: paperwork. While I know that our process has gone very smoothly in comparison to other banks and others buying homes, I find I am annoyed and impatient over the small delays we have experienced.
The other thing I find is that I am a pessimist. Maybe more of a realist? I don't know. I used to think I was more of an optimist, but I have to change my mind. Looking back, I've always been this way. I make predictions based on the bad that can happen, not the good. Like the times we could have closed on the house, each day we were told it was possible, I predicted that it would not happen, and so far I've been right. I use the excuse that I don't want to get my hopes up, but I have to admit that I do anyway, and then I am far more disappointed.
So as I sit here in our temporary 600 (approx.) square foot apartment, next to my daughter napping in her swing, I think to myself "will we really be in the new house by this weekend?" And for the first time in this whole process, I think it actually might happen. We've waited (somewhat) patiently, and we WILL receive what the Lord promised us. And that, thank the Lord, applies not only to this house on this earth, but our permanent home in heaven.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
A Child is Born
I have been wanting, needing, and meaning to write the story of my daughter, Coryell's, birth since it happened over four months ago. I should have written it much sooner when the events were still fresh in my head, but now is better than never.
It started on Wednesday, January 12. I had been to town and had lunch with my husband, Nic, at the Corps of Engineers. Some of his co-workers commented that day that he may not be at work the next day, as it was my due date. I would just smile and say "there's no indication that she will arrive tomorrow". I had always expected my first baby to come late, probably at least a week.
While making dinner that evening, I felt some liquid leakage, at around 4:30 pm. Now, I've also heard that many a mom-to-be have gone to L&D when they felt a leak, and were sent home because they were simply leaking urine. I was worried I would end up doing the same, except we weren't going to L&D. I was planning a home delivery, and my midwife, Sherry Dress, was coming from 3 hours away, so I didn't want to call her and have her come on a false alarm. We finished eating dinner, and I was still leaking, so I finally called my midwife, just to see if she could help me figure it out on the phone. She was seeing a patient in her hometown, and asked me to track down some Ph paper, though she already thought that my water had broken. My husband drove me to a drugstore in town, which did not have any Ph paper, and I didn't want to drive all over town, so I called my previous midwife at the clinic (who I would have loved to have deliver my baby if she was available to do home deliveries, which she cannot). She was still seeing a patient at the clinic, so she had her nurse get some Ph paper for me and we went and picked it up. It immediately turned blue when tested, meaning my water definitely broke.
At that point, I decided we needed some groceries so that my husband would have food to eat for a couple days after delivery. So we went down to Albertson's and did a little shopping, which I would NOT do next time if my water broke again! I was wearing a pad, but I was pretty soaked by the time we got back home. I was thankful I was also wearing a long jacket to cover it up. Once we got home, the gushing started. I couldn't even make it to the bathroom from the time I felt it begin until I was completely soaked, so much that I had to change pants. This happened about three times before I started using a towel instead of a pad, so that I wouldn't have to change clothes so often! It was like something you would see in a movie.
In the middle of the gushes, I threw some ingredients in the breadmaker so that my husband would have bread in the coming days. And then he requested that I made some banana bread, and I obliged. At least the house was smelling wonderful at this time, whether I felt wonderful or not.
Contractions started just before 8 pm that evening. They were fairly light, just making me a bit uncomfortable, and I decided I should get ready for bed and try to get some sleep. Of course, after brushing my teeth and all my bedtime preparations, I still had to stay up long enough to take the banana bread out of the oven. When we finally got to bed, it was later than I'd wanted, but I tried to get some sleep, which did not happen. I had to get up once or twice because my water was gushing again, which my husband slept soundly through. I was glad he was getting some sleep, because I knew he would need it for what was coming next.
I finally got up around midnight, with another gush, and was getting extremely uncomfortable with the contractions. I was also running out of towels to use for the water, so I wasn't sure what to do next. I called my midwife, who was now on her way to our house, and she was just entering Milton-Freewater at the time. I asked if I was allowed to take a bath after my water broke, and she said yet. Later she said that's when she knew I was in hard labor, because I was asking if I could take a bath for the pain. I ran a bath with Epsom salt, and soaked in that until my midwife and her apprentice, Alyssa, arrived. This was the first time Nic woke up, and he stayed up the rest of the time.
When the midwives got there, they timed my contractions while I was still in the tub, and then they decided to rest a little before the main event. Nic and I went on a walk sometime around 1 am through our neighborhood, at which point he decided he needed to take a picture of me standing in front of our friend's house a couple blocks away. I'm not sure they ever knew we were there. When we got back to our house, the midwives were curled up on either end of our couch sleeping. I ran another bath and soaked for a while, and then laid on my bed and labored some more there. I did try the birthing ball at one point, but it wasn't helping me relieve the pain.
At about 4 or 4:30 am, Nic woke the midwives and told them it was time to fill up the pool that I would be laboring in and delivering in. I labored the rest of the time in the pool, except to get out once because I was too hot and the midwife wanted to check my progress. When she checked, I was almost to the point of transition, so I got back in and kept laboring. I remember I was sweating so badly, and I was so hot and miserable. The water was not hot enough to keep the pain of contractions down, either, but I also didn't want it any hotter because I was too hot. Sometime in the process, since I complained about the heat so much, they finally filled a bowl with ice water and soaked a rag in it for my forehead. They had to keep the water at about 100 degrees for the comfort of the baby when she arrived, and they were trying to heat the house to about 80 degrees for the same reason.
I started pushing around 8 am, 12 hours after my first contractions started. I never had the urge to push, they just told me it was time. It was the most miserable part for me. I think that if I'd had the urge to push, it would have been easier. At least I've read that. But I didn't. I felt every contraction start in my left hip, and it was excruciating. Then it would progress to my low back. I have previous hip and back pain/injuries, so I knew it would be hard. But this could be what keeps me from doing a natural delivery next time, we haven't decided yet.
I tried so hard to stay positive and not get too discouraged during the whole labor and delivery. I was somewhat successful, I believe. The midwife kept telling me over and over again "you're almost there", and at one point I did snap and say "you keep saying that, but it isn't true!" I think this was my most negative statement, other than saying "I'm not ready" whenever I felt another contraction hit. I just wanted a little more rest in between. Contractions were coming in a clear patter, with one hitting, and then almost no bread for the next one. And then I would get a few minutes break before starting that routine all over again. Those first two, with no break, were wearing me down so much.
I pushed for two hours and 40 minutes, and my daughter was born at 10:40 am on her due date, January 13, 2011. My previous midwife, from the clinic, was present for part of the pushing, but not the actual delivery. We had invited her because we really like her, and she's very interested in water birth. I was glad she was able to come for part of it, she is very encouraging. Other than the midwives, my husband was the only other person there for the birth of our daughter, which is how we had planned it.
Nic made the family phone calls shortly after he cleaned up (he had been in the pool with me during the pushing and delivery), and we allowed guests to come about four hours after Coryell was born. The midwives stayed and cleaned up the delivery items, and made me a potato soup that I was to eat for several days. They helped me shower and clean up, and stitch me up from the tear, since Coryell came out with her hand next to her face, and swinging. They got me and Coryell into bed, and then they left to see other patients. They came back that night to check on us before heading back home. I think by then they were running on two or three hours of sleep.
And that is the story of Coryell's birth. Overall, I would say it was a good experience, although very painful and HARD! It will take a while before I'm willing to think about doing it again, but I'm sure it will happen.
It started on Wednesday, January 12. I had been to town and had lunch with my husband, Nic, at the Corps of Engineers. Some of his co-workers commented that day that he may not be at work the next day, as it was my due date. I would just smile and say "there's no indication that she will arrive tomorrow". I had always expected my first baby to come late, probably at least a week.
While making dinner that evening, I felt some liquid leakage, at around 4:30 pm. Now, I've also heard that many a mom-to-be have gone to L&D when they felt a leak, and were sent home because they were simply leaking urine. I was worried I would end up doing the same, except we weren't going to L&D. I was planning a home delivery, and my midwife, Sherry Dress, was coming from 3 hours away, so I didn't want to call her and have her come on a false alarm. We finished eating dinner, and I was still leaking, so I finally called my midwife, just to see if she could help me figure it out on the phone. She was seeing a patient in her hometown, and asked me to track down some Ph paper, though she already thought that my water had broken. My husband drove me to a drugstore in town, which did not have any Ph paper, and I didn't want to drive all over town, so I called my previous midwife at the clinic (who I would have loved to have deliver my baby if she was available to do home deliveries, which she cannot). She was still seeing a patient at the clinic, so she had her nurse get some Ph paper for me and we went and picked it up. It immediately turned blue when tested, meaning my water definitely broke.
At that point, I decided we needed some groceries so that my husband would have food to eat for a couple days after delivery. So we went down to Albertson's and did a little shopping, which I would NOT do next time if my water broke again! I was wearing a pad, but I was pretty soaked by the time we got back home. I was thankful I was also wearing a long jacket to cover it up. Once we got home, the gushing started. I couldn't even make it to the bathroom from the time I felt it begin until I was completely soaked, so much that I had to change pants. This happened about three times before I started using a towel instead of a pad, so that I wouldn't have to change clothes so often! It was like something you would see in a movie.
In the middle of the gushes, I threw some ingredients in the breadmaker so that my husband would have bread in the coming days. And then he requested that I made some banana bread, and I obliged. At least the house was smelling wonderful at this time, whether I felt wonderful or not.
Contractions started just before 8 pm that evening. They were fairly light, just making me a bit uncomfortable, and I decided I should get ready for bed and try to get some sleep. Of course, after brushing my teeth and all my bedtime preparations, I still had to stay up long enough to take the banana bread out of the oven. When we finally got to bed, it was later than I'd wanted, but I tried to get some sleep, which did not happen. I had to get up once or twice because my water was gushing again, which my husband slept soundly through. I was glad he was getting some sleep, because I knew he would need it for what was coming next.
I finally got up around midnight, with another gush, and was getting extremely uncomfortable with the contractions. I was also running out of towels to use for the water, so I wasn't sure what to do next. I called my midwife, who was now on her way to our house, and she was just entering Milton-Freewater at the time. I asked if I was allowed to take a bath after my water broke, and she said yet. Later she said that's when she knew I was in hard labor, because I was asking if I could take a bath for the pain. I ran a bath with Epsom salt, and soaked in that until my midwife and her apprentice, Alyssa, arrived. This was the first time Nic woke up, and he stayed up the rest of the time.
When the midwives got there, they timed my contractions while I was still in the tub, and then they decided to rest a little before the main event. Nic and I went on a walk sometime around 1 am through our neighborhood, at which point he decided he needed to take a picture of me standing in front of our friend's house a couple blocks away. I'm not sure they ever knew we were there. When we got back to our house, the midwives were curled up on either end of our couch sleeping. I ran another bath and soaked for a while, and then laid on my bed and labored some more there. I did try the birthing ball at one point, but it wasn't helping me relieve the pain.
At about 4 or 4:30 am, Nic woke the midwives and told them it was time to fill up the pool that I would be laboring in and delivering in. I labored the rest of the time in the pool, except to get out once because I was too hot and the midwife wanted to check my progress. When she checked, I was almost to the point of transition, so I got back in and kept laboring. I remember I was sweating so badly, and I was so hot and miserable. The water was not hot enough to keep the pain of contractions down, either, but I also didn't want it any hotter because I was too hot. Sometime in the process, since I complained about the heat so much, they finally filled a bowl with ice water and soaked a rag in it for my forehead. They had to keep the water at about 100 degrees for the comfort of the baby when she arrived, and they were trying to heat the house to about 80 degrees for the same reason.
I started pushing around 8 am, 12 hours after my first contractions started. I never had the urge to push, they just told me it was time. It was the most miserable part for me. I think that if I'd had the urge to push, it would have been easier. At least I've read that. But I didn't. I felt every contraction start in my left hip, and it was excruciating. Then it would progress to my low back. I have previous hip and back pain/injuries, so I knew it would be hard. But this could be what keeps me from doing a natural delivery next time, we haven't decided yet.
I tried so hard to stay positive and not get too discouraged during the whole labor and delivery. I was somewhat successful, I believe. The midwife kept telling me over and over again "you're almost there", and at one point I did snap and say "you keep saying that, but it isn't true!" I think this was my most negative statement, other than saying "I'm not ready" whenever I felt another contraction hit. I just wanted a little more rest in between. Contractions were coming in a clear patter, with one hitting, and then almost no bread for the next one. And then I would get a few minutes break before starting that routine all over again. Those first two, with no break, were wearing me down so much.
I pushed for two hours and 40 minutes, and my daughter was born at 10:40 am on her due date, January 13, 2011. My previous midwife, from the clinic, was present for part of the pushing, but not the actual delivery. We had invited her because we really like her, and she's very interested in water birth. I was glad she was able to come for part of it, she is very encouraging. Other than the midwives, my husband was the only other person there for the birth of our daughter, which is how we had planned it.
Nic made the family phone calls shortly after he cleaned up (he had been in the pool with me during the pushing and delivery), and we allowed guests to come about four hours after Coryell was born. The midwives stayed and cleaned up the delivery items, and made me a potato soup that I was to eat for several days. They helped me shower and clean up, and stitch me up from the tear, since Coryell came out with her hand next to her face, and swinging. They got me and Coryell into bed, and then they left to see other patients. They came back that night to check on us before heading back home. I think by then they were running on two or three hours of sleep.
And that is the story of Coryell's birth. Overall, I would say it was a good experience, although very painful and HARD! It will take a while before I'm willing to think about doing it again, but I'm sure it will happen.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Getting started
I know that blogging is not a new thing, but for me it is. I've never been good at journaling, like my best friend Rebekah or my husband Nic. However, now that I am a stay-at-home mom, maybe I will have a little more time and material for a blog. We'll see. And my husband thinks I need a hobby, maybe this is just a start. So, as the title suggests, I will probably just be writing about random things whenever I remember to get on here and do it. So, here is my super exciting first blog, and since it is late and I need my sleep, I shall leave for now, and maybe tell you a little more about myself next time. Good night!
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