The One With Sam's Birth Story: Part Three

So we're at Wednesday, December 9 (which happens to be Sam's birthday, so don't worry--the story can't go on much longer!!) My midwife came into the hospital at about 7am to check the progress I'd made overnight and to break my water. She needed me to be at about 3cm to be able to break the bag, and I was just under that. She thought she could still do it though, so she tried, and it worked! Up until then my contractions hadn't been too uncomfortable, but once my water was broken they started to get more intense.

Around noon I was still contracting regularly and couldn't sleep through them, so my midwife suggested I take some medicine to take the edge off and be able to take a nap. I wasn't sure--I'd still been wondering if I might be able to do this naturally even though things were going differently than I'd planned. I asked my midwife what she thought would be the outcome of my attempts to labor without the use of drugs. I knew I could trust her to be honest, because she works at a birth center that strongly encourages drug free labors whenever they can, and whenever it is best for mom & baby. She said that she honestly felt my labor would end up going better with an epidural. Because I was so early, my body hadn't begun going through msot of the changes it would begin to make in the weeks prior to a full term delivery. The pitocin was basically working against my body, and there was little chance I'd be able to relax enough to let my body get where it needed to be. We discussed various options, and I ended up deciding I'd take the drugs to help me sleep, but try to progress as far as I could before taking the epidural. So, I took stadol, and ended up NOT being able to sleep very much, but at least relaxed a little bit. I'd sent Geoff home to get a few things we hadn't brought with us, and by 3pm my contractions were MUCH more intense. My midwife helped me onto a birthing ball to help me work through some of the pain, but after about a minute my blood pressure shot up even higher, so I was back in the bed. Laying flat on my back was NOT a fun way to deal with contractions, but I kept pushing through. At around 530p, my midwife wanted to check me again. I'd been contracting at this point for nearly 24 hours, pretty intensely for a few hours. I was anxious to hear how things were going. She checked me...and held up 4 fingers. FOUR. I'd been just about 3cm at 7am, and now it's 530p and I've gone ONE STINKING CENTIMETER. I was so frustrated and tired, and I immediately said I was ready for my epidural. I got it at around 630p, and as soon as I got it, everything started going faster! My contractions were stronger and faster (and I couldn't feel a thing!) Around 8p, my new nurse for the night came in. I was starting to feel more pressure with the contractions, and she asked if I thought I'd need to push soon. I said, "Oh no, I think I'm good. Take your time." So she left to get everything she needed to help deliver the baby. The very second the door closed behind her, I was suddenly like 'WAIT! I need to push!!" Haha, it happened so fast! Everyone started scrambling to get things ready, and by 845p I was ready to start!

Pushing was by far the most frustrating parts of labor. It ended up taking about an hour (which I realize isn't really long, comparatively. But when I was doing it, it felt like FOREEEEEVER!) Every time I finished a push, my midwife was so encouraging and would say "Great job! You're doing so well!" And I would respond, "Then WHERE is my baby?? WHY WON'T HE COME OUT??" Finally at about 945 she called the NICU team which I knew meant he was coming out soon! Because he was so early, the NICU team had to be there to make sure he was ok and didn't need any immediate help. (I should also mention there were 2 nurses, my midwife, and my mom and Geoff, making the grand total 9 people watching me push this kid out...) Finally at 9:52pm, little Sammy made his entrance!! He came out pink and screaming and got to come right to me! I looked at his little face and was just SOO relieved and happy to see him. I was thrilled to hear that he was doing fantastic and got a 9/9 on his Apgars. He weighed 5lbs, 11oz and was 18.5 inches long. He had brown hair that was a little curly and a cute little nose. He was such a skinny little thing--needed some more time to fatten up!! But after 3 weeks of back and forth and hospital visits, we were just so thankful to have him safe and sound with us.

Everyone that reads this probably already knows that this isn't the end of the story and I'm going to keep going with the story to include his next hospital stay. But, for now, this story ends with our family of 3, happy and together and healthy! And that's Sam's birth story :)

The One With Sam's Birth Story: Part Two

So. We're at the Monday before Thanksgiving. Just found out I won't be having a c-section at 32 weeks. We went to sleep for the night, and the next morning found out my blood pressure was still too high to go home. This continued through Wednesday evening, when they decided that not much was being done to help me at the hospital, and I still wasn't sick enough to cause them to take the baby out, so I might as well do bedrest at home. The way it was described to me by a doctor was "Well, we're kind of playing a game of chicken. You're sick, and the baby isn't old enough to come out. We'll keep playing with the balance." Pretty much we were just waiting for me to get sick enough to need the baby to come out.

I'd love to tell you I spent the time hoping Sam would stay put and handled it all really well, but I didn't. This whole time was extremely frustrating for me. I was off work, wasting my maternity leave, not having a baby, spending loads on hospital bills, etc. I was so ready to be done with all the back and forth. Plus, I wasn't feeling well. I went home the night before Thanksgiving, and ended up back in the hospital again on Friday night for the same issues. Went home that weekend, and this all continued for the next two weeks. I got sent to the hospital after every appointment because my blood pressure would skyrocket. At 35 weeks, I got sent to a Fetal Medicine center to get a high level ultrasound and talk to a high risk doctor. While we were there (this was a Monday afternoon) my blood pressure spiked again, and the doctor took one look at me, and got me an immediate room at the hospital and sent me there with these words "You are NOT leaving the hospital until you are holding a baby."

By this time, I was SO ready. But also so tired of the back and forth. I'd been told SO many times that my baby was going to be out "soon" only to be sent back home that I stopped believing everyone. And sure enough, a few hours after being admitted, a different doctor decided I could go back home. I started to meltdown a little, then another nurse came in and said, "Hold on. You're not going anywhere. We've got to get this baby out." Then...she walked out. Um, hello? What? Please. Explain. Something. ANYTHING. Finally I saw the familar face of one of my favorite midwives walk in. I looked up at him pitifully and said, "David? Can you please get this baby out of me?" To my surprise, he said, "Yup! We're going to." He explained that the platelets had dropped again, which combined with my blood pressures, convinced them that it wasn't safe for me to remain pregnant. The plan was to induce me and hopefully let me deliver the baby without needed a c-section. The only problem is, at 35 weeks, my body wasn't quite ready for everything that was about to happen. Luckily, there was already some effacement and Sam had dropped, but my cervix wasn't ready at all. They decided to take things as slow as they felt comfortable with so that I had the best shot of delivering him naturally. That night I got some ripening gel and they started a VERY slow pitocin drip. I was supposed to get another batch of gel before bedtime, but luckily my contractions had already become so regular I didn't need it! They upped my pitocin and gave me some medicine to help me sleep for the big day ahead. I had contractions through the night but slept through them (sort of!) and woke early the next morning. It was really weird to have been through so much back and forth and know that this was FINALLY it. (My midwife laughed at me bc I asked after the gel if they could "take back the induction." I just still wasn't convinced they were going to let me have this baby!!)

I spent that night being really nervous about the next day. I'd had so many plans and goals for my birth experience, and so far nothing was going like I'd planned. I was nervous about labor and delivery, nervous about Sam's health with being early, nervous about the induction failing and needing a c-section, nervous about EVERYTHING. But when I got up the next morning, I was just ready to get things started.

Also, this story is taking way longer than I thought!! Haha, he hasn't even been born yet and I feel like this story has gone on forever. But, oh well. I bet one day he will love reading about the story of his coming into the world! Stay tuned for part three :)

The One With Sam's Birth Story: Part One

So, I'd these grand plans of writing Sam's birth story right after he was born. It was going to be a lovely story of my journey through natural childbirth, with pictures of the drug-free birthing center. You'd have been awed at my pain-management skills and congratulated me on getting through labor with no assistance. I would then tell you all about how great breastfeeding was and how it's always the best thing for the baby. It was going to be an award winning piece of work. The only problem is, if I still told you that story, it would be an award winning work of fiction. So instead, though it's 4 months late, here's Sammy's real entrance into the world story! Or at least part one :)

I guess the story officially started at 32 weeks. It was a crazy insane week of work for me--the holiday launch, which is always one of the busiest and most challenging weeks of the year. We transform the store into winter wonderland, and this all happens overnight. I had planned on my assistant running the setup and work the overnight shift, but then he got moved to another store and there was no one else to do it. So I ended up doing it myself, plus working some crazy shifts other days that week. My 32 week appointment was on Wednesday night that week, and I'd been feeling a little funny but just blamed it on being tired from not sleeping and working so much. When I get to my appointments, I always weighed myself and then tested my urine for protein and glucose (both indicators of pregnancy complications.) Right away I noticed there was protein, but waited to see what the midwife would have to say. We sat and chatted for a few minutes and then she took my blood pressure. I could tell right away something was wrong, and she was pretty concerned. She wanted me to do some further testing and come back on Friday morning for a follow-up appointment. I wasn't allowed to work for the remainder of the week and was on strict bedrest until the follow up. I was immediately really scared of getting put on bedrest for the remainder of the pregnancy--if I had begun my leave at 32 weeks, I would have had to come back when the baby was only 6 weeks old, and I was planning on having a full 12 at home with him.

So, home we went. I tried to relax and take it easy, but Friday didn't go well. I was put on bedrest indefinitely, was told I was not allowed to work anymore, and had to go for more labs and testing. Most everything seemed to be holding ok, so they weren't super scared and sent me home for the weekend and told me to come back Monday (which was also the week of Thanksgiving.) I had some meltdowns over being put on bedrest, but also started to get nervous that the baby would need to come sooner than he was ready. I spent the weekend resting as much as possible and Geoff was wonderful at taking care of me! Our families and friends pitched in, too. On Monday, we got to my appointment, and my midwife took my blood pressure first thing. He immediately sent us to the hospital. They were suspecting preeclampsia and knew that it could all go downhill quickly. So, I got to the hospital and my blood pressure went back down and it seemed like we were going to get to go home shortly after. But then, my midwife came back in and said, "Well, we might be meeting a baby tonight." I was really scared because I knew at 32 weeks, my baby was NOT ready to come out! But the midwife explained that my platelet count had taken a pretty significant drop and if it continued to drop, I'd be having an emergency c-section that night. So, we got admitted and waited until midnight for another test that would determine if Sam was born that night or not. It was the longest few hours ever!! But around 1:30a, the doctor came in and said that we weren't having him that night!!

Well. That's part one. More will have to come later. :)

The One With All the New Pants

So, today I went back to the gym for the first time since before I got put on bedrest at the end of my pregnancy. It's been nearly 3 months--the longest I've ever been away. And it was fabulous. Granted, probably not my best trip ever. I haven't shaved my legs since my 6 week post partum checkup (don't judge. I have a newborn, ok?), so I was wearing a pair of too-big sweatpants that tried to fall down while I ran. I was a little disoriented and lacking in decisiveness, so I wandered back and forth between machines wasting time a lot. And after about 25 minutes when I was tired, I just stopped and decided to come back home. But still--great trip.

I've been thinking lately though--having a baby was the absolute best thing that ever happened to my body image. If you'd asked me a year ago right before I got pregnant, I'd have told you I would be freaking out about the amount of weight I'd gain, about my hips spreading, about my abs disappearing and leaving behind stretch marks. But oddly enough, I am not. Being pregnant made me not care so much. In the past few years, I've had many a struggle with my body image. The way I've outwardly handled my [sometimes real, sometimes perceived] weight issues has sometimes been healthy; sometimes unhealthy. I've used disordered eating to drop pounds, and I've successfully and healthfully cut calories to lose a little excess. But I don't know if I could tell you a time in the past 4 years when inwardly my body image has been healthy or positive. So as soon as I found out I was pregnant, I got a little nervous. But as quickly as it came, it left. Now granted, first trimester I didn't have to think much about it, since I dropped a bunch of weight because of puking everything up. But once the pounds came, they came quickly. And for some reason, standing on the scale thinking "This is the lowest number I will see for the next few months" was incredibly freeing. So was the knowledge that I had no choice but to choose a healthy lifestyle and eating habits, because I was now responsible for growing another human being. When the first stretch marks popped up, I prepared myself for the inevitable freak out...and it never came. Nor did it come when 876 other stretch marks followed after that. (I am not kidding. The other day, Geoff says "Sometimes it kind of looks like your belly is on fire--it looks like there's flames everywhere!!" Don't worry--he wasn't being mean, and I wasn't offended at all. He was kidding, and it made me laugh, and he tells me every day how beautiful I am :))

I'm finding myself instead embracing the idea that my life is entirely consumed now with someone else besides myself. And that the time and energy I used to put into my attempts to lose weight or fix something is now put into the daily tasks that involve caring for my son. Life seems so much more meaningful. And, ironically, I feel much more beautiful. I'm not perfect--the first time I went shopping for new jeans, I left empty handed because I refused to buy jeans in my new size even though I found some that fit perfectly (you all know you've done it...) But, I am sitting here tonight typing in a pair of jeans 4 sizes bigger than my pre-pregnancy jeans, and I don't care, so I finally bought them. The cute polka dot bikini I wore last summer will never see the light of day again, but you know what? Next time I go swimming, I'm going to be dragging a bag full of SPF 982, Little Swimmies, floating devices, beach toys, and toting along a little boy. And I'm his mom, and I might have the kangaroo pouch that he used to live in forever on my abdomen. But whatevs. He's totally worth it. And I totally have more important things to think about now. So now, I get to go to the gym to be healthy and for fun--not to meet a certain caloric burn. I'm excited to embrace the new stage of my life, and the freedom it brings. I need to purchase a lot of new clothes, but whatevs :) All part of the fun!

The One With Not Knowing Where to Begin

I've thought about updating this a billion times, but there's so much to say that I just couldn't bring myself to actually form all the thoughts into complete sentences. And you gotta cut me some slack...cuz I'm a mommy now :)

I went to my routine 32 week appointment and we found out I have high blood pressure and protein in my urine, indicating preeclampsia. Two weeks, 6 trips to Labor & Delivery, one 4 day hospital stay, one close call with a c-section, over 20 blood draws, and one visit to a high risk specialist later, we induced my labor at 35 weeks and I had my little baby boy! Samuel Brandon was born on December 9th, 2009 at 9:52p. He weighed 5 pounds, 10 ounces and was 18.5 inches long. Came out screaming and doing just great, 9/9 apgars, and came home with us less than 2 days later. Unfortunately, once we got home, our little man got very very sick and we had to take him back to the hospital, where we stayed for nearly 2 weeks. Thankfully, our little family got to come home on Christmas Eve together!!

So far being a mom has been the greatest, scariest, most exhausting, most wonderful thing in my entire life. Sam is doing much better now that we're home again, and is up to 6 pounds! He is doing pretty well with sleeping at night, at least sometimes, and is basically just our favorite thing ever! At some point, I'll have to get my birth story written down just so I don't forget it. But for now, I gotta sleep because he's sleeping! :)

The One With...Um, I don't know

So, much has happened in the past month, plus we've been internet-less, so pardon my absence. I'm feeling super tired, and a little blah, so I'm just runnin through the highlights...

--We closed on our house on October 30th. It is beautiful and amazing and wonderful and my family, especially my mom, has helped us unpack and get things organized. It's been wonderful.

--We still have a billion things to do before Sammy is born. We need to put up a wall so I can do his nursery, organize our basement, decorate the living room, and various other unpacking things. If I think of all this for too long, I cry. So we don't do that much. I just pretend he isn't due in 8 weeks.

--I have selected a new birthplace...we're going to Special Beginnings in Arnold and are planning on a delivery at the birth center (provided Sam makes his entrance between 37 and 42 weeks and doesn't try to be breech.) Both Geoff and I are VERY comfortable with the idea of the center and are thrilled to be (hopefully) avoiding a hospital birth. For us it's a great option and so far we are loving the experience.

--My assistant at work got stolen. My boss decided he needed to "borrow" him until Christmas, basically, so I'm a little bummed at this turn of events. Running a Starbucks Holiday while being hugely pregnant is not on my list of fun things to do. But, the 12 weeks I'll have off snuggling my baby boy should make up for it.

--I'm getting uncomfortable. Please don't tell me how much worse it gets. I am aware that Sam will most likely be doubling his weight between now and birth, and that I'm going to get a lot bigger and more uncomfortable, but that's also on my list of things not to think about. Most of the time I do ok, but certain positions that Sam likes to find himself in are NOT conducive to his mommy's extremely short torso. The boy does not know what the fetal position is. We've got superman down pretty good though. He also doesn't know what head down position is, so hopefully he'll find that this month. He's still got plenty of time to figure out where he belongs.

Nothing much else to report at the time being. Life is good. I love my house, my family, my husband, my baby, and occasionally even my job. I also love that I'm about to go to bed.

The One With My Lack of Packing

Soo, if you were due to have a baby in about 12 weeks, and you knew you were moving in about 3 weeks, would you be packing like crazy and and cleaning, getting ready for the big day? If you answered yes, please come over to my apartment. Right now. Because I'm watching a Friends DVD, tearing store bought biscuit dough into pieces and throwing it into my crock pot so I can call them "dumplings" and researching places to give birth.

Wait, what? I'm about into my third trimester. Shouldn't I know where I'm giving birth? Why, yes. I should. Let's talk about that.

I love my doctor. I really, really, really love him. He's wonderful. But he works in a gross hospital. Maybe it's not actually gross, but it feels gross. And the people aren't that nice. And it's in the city, and so are rats. I don't like cities, or rats, or family waiting rooms where the lampshades have been hacked up with pocket knives. So I was willing to sacrifice all of my own comfort (as well as the money it costs to PARK. when you're a patient. I won't ever not be bitter about that. Do you understand what I'm going in there to do? And you're going to CHARGE me to leave my car here?) because I love my doctor so much. Then, I started hearing about what doctors actually do in labor...that is, catch the baby on his way out. I'm tellin you what, by the time I'm dilated, and pushing, I couldn't care less who is on the other end of the bed to catch him. Whoever, whatever. So, I would like to not be in that gross hospital. This means, though, that I have to change doctors. At this point, that's ok with me...I feel very nervous and uncomfortable when I think about giving birth at Mercy, and I feel not scared and anxious when I think about giving birth somewhere else. That, to me, says more than enough.

So, now I need to figure out what I'm doing. I think my first choice right now is going through a birth center midwife at the hospital in Annapolis. I'm going to take a tour there soon. Second choice is the new maternity ward at Baltimore Washington and we're taking a tour there this weekend. So, we'll see. Nothing like making decisions last minute!! Also, my glucose test is next week...ohhhh joy.

In other news, house things are progressing. We don't actually close the 7th...we have to close BY the 7th. And we close as soon as our paperwork goes through. Like, potentially by the end of this month. Yikes!

I for real should be packing.

Other things to do this month: paint something cool on my belly for Halloween.

The end.

The One With Things NOT to Say to Your Pregnant Wife

First, let me assure you--my husband is wonderful, amazing, supportive, and I love him dearly. He has been phenomenal to go through pregnancy with, and I fall more in love and am more thankful for him every single day.

Ahem.

Actual conversation in our home yesterday.

"Hey, Ashley. Did you use two different machines today at the gym, or just the one?"

"I was just on the one treadmill the whole time. Why?"

"Oh. Well. From downstairs, I thought I saw you, but then I looked over at another machine, and that looked like you too. But then I realized I think it was actually just this fat old lady."

::Jaw Drop:: " WHY on EARTH would you tell me that story?? If you mistake me for a fat old lady, you keep it to yourself!!"

At this point, he realizes how ridiculous what he is saying is, both of us are laughing hysterically, and he says. "Look, you're my best friend. Can't you just be happy I tell you everything??" More laughing...and such is my life.

All this from a man who one night accidently called me "fat head." (I may or may not have referred to our unborn child as fat head first. But that's completely beside the point....)

I hope you all get to live with someone as funny as I do :D

The One With a Weekend Thought on Motherhood

I love my mom, a lot. She's really an amazing lady. She is generous, kind, funny, hardworking, and a lot of other things that I hope I picked up a little bit of from her (she's also slightly OCD and a clean freak--which, unfortunately and MUCH to her dismay, I did not inherit at all.) But mostly, she loves me. A lot. Not in a "my child can do no wrong" sort of way (my mom is also very honest!) but in a, "you're mine, so never forget how special you are" kind of way. When I was growing up, it was just me and her for the most part, and I never felt like I was missing out (luckily, I did get to see my dad on weekends, so I still had the father figure. Not saying he was absent. Just that the majority of my life growing up was the 2 of us.) My mom worked a full time job--I have no idea what hours she worked. The reason for this is that I have absolutely no recollection of her ever being gone. I cannot recall a single soccer game, tee-ball game, softball game, gymnastics practice, school concert, school field trip, or any other significant event that she wasn't there for. I don't remember ever remember going to bed being tucked in by anyone besides my mom. I remember playing Barbies on the floor (actually playing together. Not me playing and her watching.) I remember sitting in the sandbox together. I remember playing with my dollhouse, singing our Steve Green bible verse songs, dancing to Wee Wing videos, having popcorn with Full House, back when it was a new and exciting show. I remember a home cooked meal nearly every night, and I remember having fish, hamsters, and kittens all during my growing up years. I'm sure there were things she had to miss; I know there were lots of friends and family who pitched in and made my life a wonderful thing. I know that I always had the same clothes all my friends did (and that I was proud my mom knew how to find the same clothes at yard sales instead of department stores!) and I never missed an after school event, summer camp, or youth group trip no matter what the cost was. I didn't notice then that my mom never bought herself new clothes. I probably didn't pay attention to all the things I had, and all the things she did without--probably because she has never brought attention to them. She has never grumbled about the sacrifice it was to put me through an expensive private school because she wanted me to have the best education possible. She's never once reminded me, or even mentioned a single time, the hard times she must have had as a single mother. Rather, she has told me every single day for my entire existence, how loved I am.

My mom told me once that one of the trademarks of people who are truly happy is that every truly happy person knows that they are someone's favorite. The morning of my wedding, she told me I should be the happiest person in the world, because all my life I had been her favorite, and now I was someone else's as well. And how right she is. I never even thought I'd understand how much my mom loves me. But the closer I get to meeting this sweet baby boy thats growing inside me, the more it inspires me to love this child with everything I have.

This week when I was on vacation, I thought I might have a lot of those "this is the last time I'll get to do ::fill in the blank:: before Sam comes!" since it was most likely my last trip without a baby in tow for awhile. Instead, I found myself anxiously awaiting his arrival so I can show him the world. A seagull walked up to my chair and I thought "Wow, Sam would LOVE if a bird came this close to him!" We walked the boardwalk and I thought "Look at that boy playing the arcade games! In a few years, I will get to play them with Sam!" When I was wiggling my toes in the sand I thought, "I wonder what Sam will think of the sand? I guess he will eat it..." Everything I experience now I want to share with him, and I get more excited by the day to meet him and love him in person.

I thought the other day "Man, I should try to think of SOMETHING besides pregnancy to write about on my blog or facebook" but then I realized--for 24 years, my mom has been my mom. I wonder how many times she's been referred to as "Ashley's Mom" instead of by her name. And it makes me smile to think that now, I am "Sam's Mom." My husband is "Sam's Dad." We are beginning a whole new phase of life, and I am thrilled to have been loved so well so that I can pass that onto my son.

And maybe somewhere along the way I'll pick up a little of the cleaning skills, too :)

(For more Weekend Thoughts, check out Life at the Circus)

The One Where I Finally Give Ultrasound Details

So, Cape Cod trip came and went; days of work came and went...what I thought would surely be the longest 2 weeks of my life waiting for our ultrasound actually flew by pretty quickly. So on Thursday the 20th, we woke up early for our 8am appointment, I drank my orange juice to wake Nugget up, and we went to the office. Unfortunately, due to a mixup with their office and my doctor and my referral, they told us we couldn't be scanned until my doctor faxed over a new form. Um, it's 8am, and his office doesn't open til 9am, so that meant a new appointment. It also meant that I had a complete and total meltdown (you know, the kind ONLY a pregnant woman can have) in the middle of Advanced Radiology. Not a fun way to start the morning, to say the least. Luckily, they had an appointment that same day later in the afternoon, so I came home and went back to bed until it was time to leave.

When we finally got into the room, our tech was SOOO much nicer! First, she had a little stool for Geoff to sit on (our last tech shrugged and said, "Um, you stand in the corner.") She asked us a few questions about our last appointment, and then we got going! She put the thing on my stomach, and lo and behold, we had a set of spread eagle legs!!! Haha, our tech laughed and said "Well....there's definitely a baby in there--and he is DEFINITELY a boy!!!" Literally, he showed off his goods in the first 3 seconds of our appointment. We've not been shy about our preference for a boy, so needless to say, we were THRILLED! Geoff lept off his stool and pumped his fists in the air, and also yelled "WE WIN!!!" It was SO funny. The thing is, we both thought it was a boy. And we both wanted a boy. So we kinda figured there was no way it would actually be a boy, haha!

Turns out though, Nugget really wanted to be stubborn again. Right after showing us his legs, he wiggled down to the bottom of my uterus and proceeded to press himself as tightly as possible against the uterine wall. My uterus is about even with my belly button right now. Nugget camped out behind my pubic bone for the rest of the ultrasound. There was NOTHING we could do to make him wiggle back up. Our tech was cracking up, because at one point, he just sat down on my cervix and was completely still. Fortunately, she was great at working with him, and got all but one of the measurements we needed.

His name is Samuel Brandon. Mostly we just love the name Sam--we didn't choose it for a particular meaning. However, there are several meanings floating about--the one I love for our baby boy is "God has heard" or "God has answered." His middle name is after my cousin Brandon, who died almost 4 years ago at 20 years of age. I can't wait to be able to share his name with my son.

Sam STILL favors the very bottom half of my uterus. Like, he hasn't ventured anywhere near the top of it. At least not that I can feel. It was really funny the other day at work I was feeling him kick like crazy, so I told one of the girls that I work with. She came right over, stuck her hand on my belly and said, "Maybe I can feel!" I looked back and said "Sure you can. Just move your hand about 8 inches south...." Haha, needless to say, she lost interest at that point! Geoff's gotten to feel though--right in the middle of church! When I sit for too long, Sam gets peeved that I'm invading his space and wiggles up as if to announce that he's still in there. He said hi to Dad, then wiggled back down. And down he remains. Silly kid. I just love him :)

The One With All the Boy Parts

No time for anything other than this:

Our baby is healthy, and super stubborn, and is a BOY!!! We're so thrilled!! His name is Samuel Brandon :)

The One With the Thankfulness

So, I'm attempting to join the Weekly Thought linkup over at Crystal's blog every week. And I'm sorta in a funk today. So I'm not sure if my thought will be....well, thoughtful, but I guess we'll find out :)

I'm pretty much a mess. I am worried, angry, scared, tired, impatient, and every other emotion in the book. There were a lot of details I left out of my summary of our ultrasound appointment, and overall I'm becoming increasingly convinced that our tech not only was rude and gave up on us far too easily, she also neglected other important aspects of her job.

However, the MOST unhelpful thing I've heard in this situation is "You should have demanded another tech!!" or "I would have spoken with a manager!!! I wouldn't have walked out!" Um, thanks. When YOU have an ultrasound and your tech scares the crap of you and makes you think YOUR baby is dying, feel free to handle the situation "properly." Are they right? Absolutely. I have already placed a call to the manager of the lab we went to, and will be addressing the issues. No one wishes more than me that we had realized how wrong things were before we left. And no one wishes more than me that this would all be resolved before waiting 2 more weeks. But for real--I didn't know. I've never had a mid-pregnancy ultrasound. I knew things didn't feel right, but I didn't realize enough to speak to someone. Next time I will. People can stop telling me now.

Being convinced of our tech's mishandling of the situation is rather encouraging, in some ways, as it leads us to believe everything with the baby IS normal, and she simply did a poor job. The "what if" still feels very real, though. And I truly believe THAT is where all my emotion is coming from. I'm not trying to be overdramatic. I do realize that the chances are very good that my baby is healthy and normal and that in 22 weeks, I will get to meet Nugget and we will have a happy life.

But I'm not gonna lie--I'm tired. I'm tired of not having a happy, fun, exciting pregnancy like so many people I know. And I get angry about it. Yesterday, I finally put voice to my feelings and cried, "I just want ONE freaking part of this pregnancy to feel normal!" And I realized that my problem is different than the one I'm saying it is. I'm very worried for Nugget. It's a big part of my funk. But it's also that I'm a little bitter about the way this has gone, and that I can't fix it.

I peed on a stick, and cried. I was scared for the next few weeks. Like, I went to the bathroom every ten minutes. And I sat on the toilet a little longer, waiting for the miscarriage to start. When I actually DID start spotting, I completely melted, and spent 4 days certain we were going to lose our baby. I got excited, but always it was dampened by fear. I didn't just get normal pregnant sick, I got pregnant sick from hell. When everyone told me I'd feel "better than ever" once I hit 14 weeks, here I sit at 18 weeks, still occasionally puking, still exhausted, still not sleeping. When we got our first ultrasound picture at 6 weeks, we sat in the car and cried because we were still so scared of spreading the news. And now, what should have been one of, if not the MOST, exciting moment of our pregnancy (excluding the actual birth!) was ruined. And I'm tired of it. I want to pee on a stick and run around and tell everyone and be happy and excited, I want to feel great and amazing, and I want to be looking of pictures of my little gender-known Nugget and dreaming of the future.

And now I realize...that's not ok. This situation isn't mine to control. And I am commanded to be thankful. I am not commanded to be thankful because everything went like I planned, or like I wanted. I am not commanded to be thankful because God did things my way instead of his way. I am not commanded to be thankful because of my circumstances; I am simply required to be thankful for ALL THINGS. And tonight, I have much to be thankful for. For now, I have a Nugget kicking around inside of me, and each little movement is a reminder that for now, my baby thrives. I have a husband who has been amazing through this entire situation; has handled meltdowns; helped me through this; been my constant support and laughter; made me smile; and loved our little baby as much as I do. I have an amazing family, friends, coworkers...I am so amazingly blessed. And tonight, I am thinking on these things. Not the things that could have been, or would have been, or things that I want to be different. I am simply thankful for what is. And I am thankful that I have been chosen to carry this life. Every moment.

Seriously, Nugget??

So. I really shouldn't be surprised. Here's what we learned at our ultrasound today:

Nugget has a head. Nugget has 2 arms and 2 legs, 2 eye sockets. We briefly saw kidneys, spinal cord, bladder, and stomach. We did get a heartbeat reading, 145 bpm, which is good. We also got a very long glimpse of the brain. One time, Nugget looked straight at us. Also waved a little bit.

Here's what we DIDN'T learn:

Are any of Nugget's body parts doing what they're supposed to be doing? WHY did we zoom in on the brain for ten minutes (when our whole ultrasound was twenty minutes...)? Are the kidneys functioning? Is the heart pumping blood? Is Nugget a boy or a girl?

So. kinda frustrating. It was kinda weird. Our tech wouldn't tell us much. Like, I was in there for about 15 minutes, she poked and prodded, pointed out a few things. Then mostly just stopped at the brain and wouldn't talk. Then she had me go to the bathroom, she tried again for about 5 minutes and said, "Nope. I thought maybe if you relieved your bladder it would help. But it didn't. I can't get anything I need." I asked if, based off of what she DID see, everything looked ok so far. She said, "I couldn't see much." Um. Thanks. That's very helpful. I'm not worried at all.

I realize this is very common. I know tons of women are unable to see certain body parts, etc. It's just sort of unnerving to have no confirmation or indication that Nugget is alright. I just want to know if my baby is ok. I already spoke with my doctor; he'll call if the report he gets shows anything abnormal...so until then we wait. Our next ultrasound is in two weeks, and hopefully we'll have more news.

Funny how much more appropriate my last post now seems...

In the waiting, in the waiting, I learned to hold on to the Heart of God.

The One With My Weekend Thought

Pregnancy is so weird. Sometimes I'm like "Man. I never talk about ANYTHING besides Nugget!!" And then I realize it's because so few of my thoughts are Nugget-less. It's the most all-consuming experience of my life. I thought I was bad the weeks before my wedding, but it was nothing compared to this. Especially the past 2 weeks, as we've had our appointment made and are counting down the days to our ultrasound. As I've said before, I think pregnancy-after-miscarriage comes with its own set of rules and its own pile of fears. I kept thinking I'd hit milestones that would make it better, and while getting out the first trimester was huge, I'm finding myself anxious as the ultrasound approaches. And I have wondered much exactly what I am to pray for during this time. Out of fear, I want to ONLY pray that my baby is healthy. I want to pray that I get to meet Nugget, and hold Nugget, and play with Nugget, and take Nugget to kindergarten, and watch Nugget graduate and get married and live a long happy life. The very strongest desire of my heart is to really get to know this little baby I have come to love tremendously in the past 4 months. However, I am fully aware that this is not MY baby. This is God's baby, and as I have already learned, I have no control over this child. This is sometimes a frustrating thought to me--I'm avoiding all the foods I'm supposed to; I'm taking care of my body the way I'm supposed to...I've got all the bases covered. I wish that came with the assurance that as long as I do what I'm supposed to do, my baby will be fine. But it doesn't. And I can do everything I can, knowing that in the end, I will humbly accept the sovereignty of a God who sees the future, controls the universe, and loves my baby more than I will ever be able to.

I feel like what I need to do is absolutely pray my desires to God. But I also need to daily rededicate my child to his care, and relinquish the control I pretend I have but really don't. While I was thinking through all this stuff, I found a song that basically says what I feel like pregnancy (and, while I don't know from experience, I imagine parenting in general will be like.) It's called Prayers for This Child by Sara Groves, and I love it.

"I do not know how I am to pray for this child,

As his mother I don't want my baby denied,

But in the waiting, in the waiting,

I learned to hold on to the heart of God.

Every instinct in me wants to shield him from pain,

Take the arrows of misery, heartache, and shame,

But in the sorrow, in the sorrow,

I learned to hold on to the heart of God.

I only have 2 eyes--be all seeing

I only have 2 hands--be everywhere

I do not know enough--be all knowing

I give this baby up to your care

I do not know how I am to pray for this child

I want to guard him from everything wicked and wild,

But in the trial, in the trial,

I learned to hold on to the heart of God."

Such a wonderfully neat thought. This lack of control, this fear of never knowing this child, this desire to protect my baby and the knowledge that it's not my job...these are the very things teaching me to hold on to the heart of God. So I will hold tightly, knowing that he cares for me and Nugget more than I could ever dream of. And I will pray for this sweet baby, both the desires of my heart as well as for my heart to prepared to walk whatever journey we will face.

Our appointment is on Thursday morning, and I can't wait to hopefully share all the fun details and the gender of our little Nugget! If you think of it, prayers are greatly appreciated! Thanks :)

The One With My Funny Baby

I love my baby so much. Like seriously, because Nugget is my child and it's one of those natural things, but beyond that, I have a funny child. Nugget likes to play tricks. The making me think I'm better and then making me puke again isn't as funny as the trick this week.

Our 15 week appointment was Tuesday. For those who haven't had babies, these pre-natal appointments are booorrrrriiinnnnggg. Literally, they last 15 minutes. We sit in the office where my doctor makes comments (or jokes) about my weight. He made serious comments when I lost for the first trimester, but when I'd gained 5 pounds this time he made jokes. (Also, note to self: don't schedule weigh ins right after a vacation in which you devoured fried seafood, ice cream, AND Cheesecake Factory Cheesecake your wonderful hosts brought you home in exchange for playing with their angelic child. Let me tell you, not even close to a fair trade. We win, all around.) Then he discusses my health, asks if I have any questions, and asks if Geoff has any questions. After that, we go to listen to the heartbeat. Usually, it takes about twenty seconds. Doppler goes on my belly, we hear a loud heartbeat which is mine, scoot the doppler down, and then there it is!! Very quick, which is good for a wussy mom and dad who get really nervous during this part.

Tuesday, all is well. I lay down, he puts the doppler on. Nothing. Moves it around...nothing. Presses harder. Nothing. Up, down, left, right, jabbing my entire abdomen and below. Nothing. This goes on for 2 minutes, and we are sufficiently FREAKED OUT. Then, the doctor moves the doppler down, presses as hard as he can and says, "Oh! Found it! Right behind the pubic bone!" We listen to the semi-faint but fast beat, and he tries to get Nugget to move, but Nugget absolutely refused to budge. Which is odd, because usually he is wiggly. I thought this was funny. My kid has already found the only place at this age that he can hide and freak us out. I can't wait til August 6--that is Baby Sex Day!! Also, I'm nervous, since it's Baby, Are You Growing Normally? Day. But I'm hoping the excitement will take over and leave me no time for anxiousness.

Until next time, I'm off to eat a giant bowl of rice. Mmmm.

The One With the Baby I Miss

I'm back from an AMAZING vacation. I was perfect. A delightful combination of time with friends, and time with hubby, plus a little beach and a little city. Loved it. Sometime soon, I shall give some fun details, maybe even pictures, of the wonderfulness we had in Florida. But for today, I'm a bit pensive. I've been thinking lots about our first little baby.

I dunno, it's weird. Sometimes when I am counting Nugget's weeks and excitedly telling everyone how big he is, or what new milestones he's learning (last week, Nugget got facial expressions and begins to pee. Nice, Nugget.) But sometimes I can't help skipping ahead to see how big Baby Ward would be now; what I'd be experiencing. For some reason in my mind, Baby Ward is ALWAYS a boy. And I wonder what color hair he would have had, and if he would have been tall or short. I kind of thought that once I got pregnant again, these thoughts would subside, because now I can wonder all those same questions about a baby it looks as though I likely WILL meet. But the two are very, very separate in my mind. Getting pregnant again HAS made it much, much easier and I am so blessed to have been given this gift so soon. But...the pain of the miscarriage is still there. More than I would have expected, sometimes. It's very weird to think there was a little person that Geoff and I made, and we (on this side of eternity) will never know anything about.

One cool thing, though, was pointed out to me a few months ago by one of my blog readers (Thanks, Meredith :)) and has provided me with much encouragement. Nugget is a child created only because of the miscarriage. If we had Baby Ward, then this little person that I can't wait to meet would never exist. And I'm so excited to see this little personality come alive; to see if he will have my frizzy hair or Geoff's freckles...and all the while knowing this little one we get to meet would never have been possible without the pain we experienced first. Sometimes it's very difficult for me to look at this pregnancy with the same excitement that I know other first time pregnancy mom's are having. I still get super nervous, even though things are going great. In a few weeks at our sonogram, I already know I'm going to be freaking out. And yeah, there's no point in worrying. It doesn't change anything. Plus, things are (statistically speaking) most likely going to go wonderfully. And we definitely trust God with this baby, as we did with our first. There are just still days when it hurts, and days when I am still sad. Sometimes I wonder if I'm being overdramatic--plenty of people have miscarriages...plenty of people have had several! But then I come back to the fact that the world is broken, and that it's ok to be sad about brokenness, and death and pain. As long as there is hope...which there is, in abundance. It's just a strange journey to travel.

Anyways, I'm off to enjoy my last 2 days of vacation. Happy Saturday :)

The One With all the Hydration

Well, friends, I come to you tonight as a fully hydrated preggo. I know this because I spent the better half of my day in the hospital connected to an IV. While not the most pleasant experience of my life, I can safely say I am feeling a thousand times better than I have since getting pregnant. It's amazing the difference that it made.

I called my doctor this morning to discuss my recent sickness, and he immediately agreed that I needed a new medicine. However, he didn't want to prescribe it until I'd gone to the hospital to get checked out at Labor and Delivery and most likely get some IV fluids due to dehydration. Ok. No worries. I call my hubby and wake him up, we leave to go to Mercy Hospital. I've never been to Mercy Hospital. It. Is. Not. Fun. First off, it's in Baltimore. I don't like the city. I don't like the one way streets. I don't like honking. I don't like parking garages. But whatevs. I love my doctor. So we'll do it. Plus, I've heard wonderful things about the hospital. I get there, we go up to Labor and Delivery, and things are a little....chaotic. Some of the nurses are running around talking about someone's placenta; some are figuring out who needs epidurals; some are doing paperwork. NO ONE is helping the poor women in room 11 who has to go to the bathroom; NO ONE is putting an epidural into the woman who is 7 centimeters dilated in room 5, and for pete's sake, will someone PLEASE find Dr. Mac so they will stop asking for him on the intercom??? Anyways. My doctor had already called ahead to inform them I was coming and what to do. I get there. I get registered and the nurse says, "Oh. You're only 13 weeks. Just go down to the ER." (I'm sorry. WHAT? No, lady. Last time I went to an ER it took them 4 hours to tell me I was having a miscarriage and there's no way I'm going back unless I'm dying, or bleeding, or unconscious.) So, I, in my oh-so-pleasant-non-hydrated-vomiting state say firmly, "No. I'm not going. You can examine me here." She, equally firmly, says, "No. You have to go to the ER. Go talk to the midwife. But she's gonna tell you the same thing." So, I go to the midwife, and she says that they're dealing with a lot in labor and delivery, so if I want to be seen, I need to go to the ER. I said no, I'm going to go home if you won't see me here. She said, "You're probably dehydrated. You can't leave." I turned around, said, "Watch me." and then I left. I called my doctor on my way back to the car; he was really ticked off they tried to send me away, and called them back and apparently MUCH more firmly than me told them to see me right away. So they did. Hoorah! Turns out I was pretty severely dehydrated, and so two hours and a bag and a half of sugar water and a shot of Zofran later, I was on my way home, VERY happily hydrated and feeling a thousand times better.

Overall, though, the experience concerns me. I asked one nurse if they were understaffed today, and she said, "Oh no. It's always like this. Crazy place!" (Thanks. Big help. Can't wait til it's my turn. I'll try to use the bathroom BEFORE I come so I don't have to bother the staff with silly things like that....) But, this experience also made me appreciate my doctor even more. I think my idea might be to get a doula or a midwife to be part of my labor experience (you know, help me pee and stuff) that way I get to have the comfort of my doctor, but also the comfort of someone there looking out for the medical stuff before it's the doctor's turn and I push and stuff. Who knows. It was also interesting how much nicer everyone got after my IV. I said to Geoff, "Wow! These people are WAY nicer now!" He paused, and then as kindly as he could, but also laughing said, "Sweetie. YOU are way nicer now." So I believe perhaps my opinion at the beginning was slightly skewed. But just slightly.

For now, I'm off to drink some water. 80 ounces a day from now on! Gah.

The One With the Jokester

As my sister-in-law pointed out to me, with a combo of the silliness of me and the even more silliness of my husband, our child has little chance of being "normal." Which, to me, is super exciting. But, Nugget's first round of jokes is not something his mommy finds funny.

See, I was pretty sick for a few weeks. And then, right before 12 weeks, I started throwing up a lot less, and I embraced the 2nd trimester wonderfulness. Then, a few days later, I got sick. Well. Maybe it was just a fluke. Started to feel better....and a few days later, got sick. This time, I waited longer before I thought, "Wow, now the sickness is really over." So this time, I waited even longer. But I'm not gonna lie, Saturday morning, I said "Wow. I'm SO glad the sickness is finally done."

Good joke, Nugget.

Today, I woke up. And threw up. Then, I tried to eat some breakfast. And threw up. Prenatal vitamin? Threw up. Cup of water? Threw up. I finally had to go into work to process payroll, and ate a half a cup of ice cubes...and threw up. So I came home to sleep. This is the worst day I've had since getting pregnant. And really, I shouldn't complain, since I know at least one of my readers who was this sick (and sicker) for nearly her entire pregnancy. One day won't kill me. But I am tellin ya--I'm not doin this for long. If it's like this tomorrow, I'm calling my dr. He already gave me some anti-nausea medicine, but it makes me SO sleepy I can't even take it if I have to go to work, or do anything that requires me to move from my couch. So Ima need a nice anti-nausea AND anti-drowsiness medication. 

This is especially important since a week from today I'll be flying to Florida with my hubby! We are so freaking excited about this vacation and adventure. Back in January, we had signed up for a cruise in January 2010. However, being due in January 2010, we realized we had to cancel it. So, we decided to do the responsible thing--not plan any vacation and save our money for the little one. Then about 2 weeks ago, I started to get really sad about this plan. First, because this is the last summer we have to carelessly make vacation plans without a child to consider. It's also HOPEFULLY the last summer we will have two incomes so vacations in the future might not happen for awhile. Geoff is super sweet--even though its WAY more important to me, and he's ok with just hanging out here, he agreed we could go somewhere. With only a week to plan, my mind quickly jumped to huge ideas that would be impossible on such short notice. Then, that same day, one of my most favorite people, Heather of the Clement Crew, posted pictures of her newly designed (and beautifully done) guest room with an invitation for visitors. I'm SO excited about this for so many reasons--first, she has the cutest child I've ever seen. And I mean that. There really is no other child that is as cute as him. (I'm very much hoping I think mine is cuter when it pops out. But Liam is SO cute that it's going to be debatable.) Also, I have never gotten to meet Heather's husband, nor has Geoff, and it's going to be so fun for all of us to hang out. Also, they live really close to St. Augustine, so after a few days with them, Geoff and I are going to spend 2 nights in a romantic hotel at the beach before we come home.

The suddness of this trip did bring with it some bathing suit crisis tears (don't try on last years suits after you're pregnant. it won't work.) So we have a bunch of last minute shopping to do. But it's all worth it! Now, I just have to feel better, find something to cover me up at the ocean, and we will be good to go!

In Nugget news, he is the size of a medium shrimp. And less than 5 weeks til our sonogram, where we absolutely want to know if we are having a boy or girl! I hope Nugget cooperates so we can get a good look at some healthy organs and know for sure what gender to expect!!

Ok. Time for more napping. The end.

The One With the Lime

So....12 weeks is way more fun than all the other weeks. I'm *almost* like a real person again. I say *almost* because pregnancy makes me sort of mean and grouchy. Must be something with all the hormones. Also, it's mostly when I'm at work and people are driving me nuts (by doing completely normal things, mind you. It just irritates me more than usual.) Sometimes I don't even realize it. Yesterday, one of my employees went to the bathroom, but I didn't know where he went. After 10 minutes (yeah. it was a #2 break, apparently) I asked my assistant if he knew where said employee had gone. He very innocently asked, "Did you ask him to go do something?" The beast within me rose up and snarled, "If I had ASKED him to do something, don't you think I might KNOW where he was and not be asking YOU about it? I'm NOT retarded, ok??" I also may have freaked out one morning about a misplaced broom. I don't think anyone knows quite what to do with me.

Despite my grumpiness at work, though, I am so so so much happier this week than the previous months have been. I am finally keeping down all my food, and am feeling way more energy and just feeling more like ME. I'm starting to show, which is pretty nifty. I've actually been asked by a stranger if I'm pregnant (which was dangerous. But I'm glad she asked...) so that was my official confirmation that it actually looks like a baby bump! Nugget is lime sized right now and has reflexes and is squirming--but of course I can't feel it yet. Only 6 more weeks til our sonogram!! For now though, I am out of words and I am off to eat 12 freezy pops. So long :)

The One With the Quote from the Pop Song

I don't tend to have great taste in music. Basically, if it's popular and on the radio, I've heard it. That's about where it ends. I also have a deep appreciation for teen girl pop stars. The first one was Hilary Duff...it has progressed into the likes of Kelly Clarkson and Taylor Swift. One pop star, however, drives me NUTS: Miley Cyrus. Like for real, this girl is like fingernails on a chalkboard to me. So the fact that she sings a song I LOOOVVVVEEE is sort of throwing me off a bit. I wish someone, anyone else had recorded it so that I could hear it without listening to her "singing." But in any case...I love "The Climb."

When I was in college, I HATED being in school. At first I was homesick, then got dumped and was heartbroken, then I remembered how much I hate classes and homework. All around, not the greatest years of my life. During this time, my dear friend Joy said something I have never forgotten. You can live your life as a series of "Point A to Point B situations"...or, you can slow down and enjoy the journey to wherever you are headed. Not that we should have goals, and dreams, and be working toward those...but if life is nothing more than a series of countdowns, are we really living? This convicted me so much, because it's something I do on SUCH a regular basis. Sometimes it's little ways--"Only 6 more hours of work. Only 4 more hours of work. Only ten more minutes of work." Sometimes it's a little bigger--"Only 2 1/2 more weeks til our summer break!" And sometimes it's even bigger--"Only 29 more weeks til we meet this baby!" I'm a huge fan of countdowns. Love 'em. But sometimes, I think I'm too caught up in the countdowns to enjoy the moments.

I was thinking about this today after our doctors appointment where we heard Nugget's heartbeat for the first time. I was realizing how very REAL it is that there is a little person that I helped make growing inside me. And I still don't like being pregnant, even though I'm starting to feel a little better. But I want to cherish it. I don't want to waste the next 29 weeks counting down and missing the time NOW that I have with this baby. I have already learned that in pregnancy and in life, there are no guarantees. Most pregnancies at this stage go on to full term, healthy babies. But this is NOT something that I can count on. I have no assurance of the number of days I have to enjoy the little heart beating away inside of me. Cuz....

There's always gonna be another mountain/I'm always gonna wanna make it move/Always gonna be an uphill battle/And sometimes I'm gonna have to lose/It ain't about how fast I get there/It ain't about what's waitin' on the other side/It's the climb

So here's to a healthy baby, and a climb that's worth savoring. Gonna be a crazy adventure.