Monday - The fiasco with the car keys. That was fun. Late night.
Tuesday - A rare evening free, spent cleaning, grocery shopping, and cleaning. I made a drying rack for our laundry that I absolutely love. I can vacuum under it, that's my favorite part.
Wednesday - I did extra laundry, just because I was so giddy over that laundry rack. And I started getting prepped for our feis weekend. David had mutual, Andrea had dance. Mutual is a pain because it requires rides every single week, and I don't like inconveniencing the families in our ward like that. But he got there. And Andrea got to dance, then the last half hour of Activity Days when we got to the church to pick up David. Another late night, though.
Thursday - David played with a friend, I started cooking and packing and planning for our road trip. Andrea had dance. I also had the kids do a sock folding blitz with me. I hate folding socks. I don't know why. Maybe because trolls exist, they steal your socks, but only the left ones (why's that?). So we had two baskets with nothing but socks in it. The kids and I laid out all the clean socks in rows, then paired all that we could. We will find the rest eventually. I think. Why do we have so many socks? We need more trolls.
Friday - I volunteer at the school to help with popcorn every Friday. Then I packed and cooked and cleaned like a crazy lady. We drove straight from picking up the middles from school to our Airbnb in Columbus. Ohio is weird, man. Without anything adjusting, or our map changing course, the GPS added minutes to our drive time. When we left the house it told us we'd have a 3 1/2 hour drive ahead of us. By the time we were an hour in the GPS had added 20 minutes to that drive time. It got no better. Almost 5 hours later we rolled up to the Airbnb. I don't know how it did that. We hit no traffic, and we only had one potty stop. We ate the food I'd packed up in the car (use take-out boxes, it makes no mess, its not flat like a plate so it keeps food contained, and you can just throw it away when you're done), so we didn't stop for food. But somehow our drive took an hour and half longer than we'd anticipated.
Saturday - we were up and going at 7:00. That's a feis day for ya. Andrea got dressed, the boys got dressed, we ate the breakfast I'd packed, and we left. The Ohio Expo Center is a mess to get to, and don't listen to Larry when he tells you the ladies at the other booths take cards, it is a cash-only establishment. (Why didn't I have cash??? That was stupid, I always carry cash.) Andrea worked so hard the last few weeks to practice and learn all of her steps. She didn't do as well as she'd hoped. There was some stiff competition, and a LOT of kids competing in each dance. She came out about the middle of the pack in each one. The judge comments were the same in each dance: turn out your feet, crossover, high on your toes. Turn out has been a bear the entire time she's danced. She'll get there, if she wants to. We'll see what happens. We left the expo at 3:30. Again, our GPS said 3 hours, 27 minutes to get home. With one added stop we still didn't get home until 9:00. I don't know what happens in Ohio, but it adds time to your GPS. But it does have Chick-fil-A and Waffle House, so I'll give it that. Otherwise we bleed Blue, and PureMichigan is way better. Sorry, Buckeyes.
Things I've learned this week:
- Feising in Ohio is hard.
- Feising with all the kids is harder.
- Feising overnight and away from home needs to be saved for when Jonathan is back.*
- *Muskegon is an overnight feis, but it is also a great place with a warm sandy beach and a gorgeous lake that looks like an ocean. It does not count.
- Keep your keys in your pocket, even if you think the car door is unlocked.
- Ohio adds time to your drive.
- I need to say NO more often, I just don't have the time I think I do. I feel like everything takes longer without another parent. It isn't harder, it just takes more time. Like Ohio.
Saturday, March 30, 2019
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
Key-ping it Real
Hardest part about having J gone (I think I've mentioned this) is that I have to take all of the kids to every activity we have. Scouts is really the worst because it runs from 7:30 (Elizabeth and Peter's bedtimes) until 9:00.
Last night, the littles and I found a little hallway so that Andrea could practice her dancing, and so Peter and Elizabeth would not get in anyone's way. By 8:45, however, Liz was done. She was not going to be quiet any longer, and was running amok in the gym. I decided to take all of the littles to the car and get them buckled in, then wait the last 15 minutes for David to be finished.
We get to the car. My key fob's battery is dead, so I have to unlock the car with the key. I get the door unlocked, throw my keys onto the driver's seat, then hit the unlock button on the switch. (Unfortunately, that switch has been jammed for a while, so it usually takes some effort to get the doors unlocked.)
I then turn to pick up Elizabeth and get her into her seat. We were parked on a slant, and between the weight of the door and the wind, my door shut. When I pull on the door handle to Elizabeth's door, the door is still locked. No big, I'll just put a little more pressure on that switch again.... only MY door is locked. And my KEYS are on the front seat. And Peter has no coat, I have no coat, and it is below freezing.
Sent the kids inside, called roadside assistance, and was told it would be 75 minutes before a locksmith could get to me to unlock the door. We waited inside the church until the last second, then headed out at 9:15 to hunker down for another 45 minutes in the cold. A kind scout's mom heard what happened and invited us to wait in her car! And then the locksmith showed up at 9:30. It still took another 25 minutes to get us into the car, but we got in!
So we finally rolled up home about 10:40, and then all of the kids headed off to bed right before 11:00. I decided there that I would let the kids sleep as late as they wanted, so even though school starts at 9:00, they did not get to school until 10:20 this morning. I don't feel bad about that.
And I've been rethinking my key habits. I think I'm going to buy a lanyard to put my keys on. If I wear it around my neck my keys will still be easy to access, but I won't throw them onto the seat to empty my hands. That's a cute look, right? (Just say yes.)
Last night, the littles and I found a little hallway so that Andrea could practice her dancing, and so Peter and Elizabeth would not get in anyone's way. By 8:45, however, Liz was done. She was not going to be quiet any longer, and was running amok in the gym. I decided to take all of the littles to the car and get them buckled in, then wait the last 15 minutes for David to be finished.
We get to the car. My key fob's battery is dead, so I have to unlock the car with the key. I get the door unlocked, throw my keys onto the driver's seat, then hit the unlock button on the switch. (Unfortunately, that switch has been jammed for a while, so it usually takes some effort to get the doors unlocked.)
I then turn to pick up Elizabeth and get her into her seat. We were parked on a slant, and between the weight of the door and the wind, my door shut. When I pull on the door handle to Elizabeth's door, the door is still locked. No big, I'll just put a little more pressure on that switch again.... only MY door is locked. And my KEYS are on the front seat. And Peter has no coat, I have no coat, and it is below freezing.
Sent the kids inside, called roadside assistance, and was told it would be 75 minutes before a locksmith could get to me to unlock the door. We waited inside the church until the last second, then headed out at 9:15 to hunker down for another 45 minutes in the cold. A kind scout's mom heard what happened and invited us to wait in her car! And then the locksmith showed up at 9:30. It still took another 25 minutes to get us into the car, but we got in!
So we finally rolled up home about 10:40, and then all of the kids headed off to bed right before 11:00. I decided there that I would let the kids sleep as late as they wanted, so even though school starts at 9:00, they did not get to school until 10:20 this morning. I don't feel bad about that.
And I've been rethinking my key habits. I think I'm going to buy a lanyard to put my keys on. If I wear it around my neck my keys will still be easy to access, but I won't throw them onto the seat to empty my hands. That's a cute look, right? (Just say yes.)
Sunday, March 24, 2019
How the cookie crumbles
This week was nuts. We had something we were doing every single night, and were out later than usual every night. This week we have one free night! I'm so excited about that.
Today was a long day at church. Elizabeth didn't sleep last night until I'd hauled her out into the living room with me. So I finally got settled at 3:00 this morning. So we were late to church, and I was wiped. We didn't stay for the Linger Longer, I got home and napped. I'm hoping Elizabeth's nights will be a bit better this week.
The talks at church were good though. The topic was the atonement, which is always a good topic, but was a great way to start preparing for Easter celebrations.
The kids in Primary had fun learning their hand chimes. Andrea has them for one of the songs they are performing for Easter. And then the Sr. Primary is also learning harmonies for Beautiful Savior. It will be very pretty.
On the deck this week:
Scouts
Dance two nights this week
Mutual
Feis in Columbus
Jonathan got official news regarding training. Classes run for 26 weeks, barring problems. Unfortunately his classes haven't even started, and he's not sure if he will even start this week. And then there is processing after everything is finished, which can take a few weeks. It is all adding up to more time gone, poor kids. Good thing they are tough little ones.
Wednesday, March 20, 2019
Before and After
2015
When Jonathan left for BCT we had very little time to prepare. We didn't fully know what we were getting into, we just knew that we'd felt like it was the right thing to do, so we jumped in feet first. It was definitely a miserable sink-or-swim experience. We mostly sunk.
2019
We had more time to prepare, and we made sure the kids were ready for an extended separation. At least we thought we did. Here's how the first week without the kids' dad around has been:
David has been mostly helpful. He's stepped up, looked for ways to help, and observantly found ways to serve. He's a good kid. Thanks for taking out the trash without being asked, Buddy.
Andrea has had her weepy moments. She holds on to the pictures we took pretty tightly. She has thrown herself into dance, and has done very well. She's been rather stoic.
Peter is a mess. We only have one meltdown a day, if Dad calls we have two. The worst was Sunday at church when Brooke found him hiding under the piano while he just sobbed. He misses dad hugs and snuggles.
Elizabeth hardly recognizes that things have changed. She does point out daddy in pictures more, and she does get very excited when he calls. But otherwise she just trucks along being her normal self.
I have found that my only difficulties arise when the kids have evening activities. Scouts on Monday, Cub Scouts on Tuesday, dance on Wednesday and Thursday, mutual on Wednesday at the same time as dance, and this Friday night is Pinewood Derby check-in one hour before the Youth Auction at church. Taking all of the kids along to all of these activities is a tad tiring. But at the end of the day I think I'm handling it just fine (except last Saturday when I forgot to feed the kids dinner, I have not forgotten to feed them again).
So we are alive, and we are mostly thriving. And I feel good and calm about how we are managing here on the home front.
Reports from Jonathan are spotty. Apparently the average length of this training is 32 weeks, though it can take up to 36. We've been planning on 26. Ha. Hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHA!
We'll just see what happens.
When Jonathan left for BCT we had very little time to prepare. We didn't fully know what we were getting into, we just knew that we'd felt like it was the right thing to do, so we jumped in feet first. It was definitely a miserable sink-or-swim experience. We mostly sunk.
2019
We had more time to prepare, and we made sure the kids were ready for an extended separation. At least we thought we did. Here's how the first week without the kids' dad around has been:
David has been mostly helpful. He's stepped up, looked for ways to help, and observantly found ways to serve. He's a good kid. Thanks for taking out the trash without being asked, Buddy.
Andrea has had her weepy moments. She holds on to the pictures we took pretty tightly. She has thrown herself into dance, and has done very well. She's been rather stoic.
Peter is a mess. We only have one meltdown a day, if Dad calls we have two. The worst was Sunday at church when Brooke found him hiding under the piano while he just sobbed. He misses dad hugs and snuggles.
Elizabeth hardly recognizes that things have changed. She does point out daddy in pictures more, and she does get very excited when he calls. But otherwise she just trucks along being her normal self.
I have found that my only difficulties arise when the kids have evening activities. Scouts on Monday, Cub Scouts on Tuesday, dance on Wednesday and Thursday, mutual on Wednesday at the same time as dance, and this Friday night is Pinewood Derby check-in one hour before the Youth Auction at church. Taking all of the kids along to all of these activities is a tad tiring. But at the end of the day I think I'm handling it just fine (except last Saturday when I forgot to feed the kids dinner, I have not forgotten to feed them again).
So we are alive, and we are mostly thriving. And I feel good and calm about how we are managing here on the home front.
Reports from Jonathan are spotty. Apparently the average length of this training is 32 weeks, though it can take up to 36. We've been planning on 26. Ha. Hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHA!
We'll just see what happens.
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
David
David has done a lot of growing up lately. Some of its been rough, some of it has been a lot of fun to watch. This last week we had a fun moment.
Two weeks ago David came home talking about the 5th grade jobs. There's always the Safety positions, helping the younger kids get to where they need to be. He helped cover one of those jobs while the 5th grade kids were at 5th Grade Camp. He enjoyed helping, and I was grateful his teacher recommended him for the job. But while David really liked that job he really wanted a different job: a news anchor position for the school. This job was a little more coveted and he wasn't sure he could get it, but he wanted to try. There was an application he needed to fill out and turn in to the Media tech. I didn't think the application was that big of a deal, but when I went to sign it the day before David needed to turn it in I realized it was a bit more involved than I'd thought.
There were two questions he had to answer following a list of qualifications he had to check yes/no to. He could answer yes to all of the qualifications, but those questions... Hahaha! "Why do you want this job?" David's answer? "Because I think it would be fun." Oh dear.... We talked for a while about how to better present himself, what he REALLY wanted to do with the job. He worked hard to rewrite his response. "I really enjoy school and learning, and I want to lead other kids to enjoy school and learning through my example and enthusiasm." "What talents or skills would contribute to this position?" "I am a good reader, I am a fast typer, and I am enthusiastic and friendly."
And then he needed to get three staff members to sign his application as references. I asked which teachers he would ask to be his references. "Uh..... I dunno. Mrs. S?" "And....." He had no idea. I told him to think about the different teachers that could vouch for his hard work and dedication to a project. His tech teacher taught him in an after-school class last year, his music teacher always has high praise for him and how hard he has worked in her class, the art teacher praised his artistic abilities... I told him to think of the people who could have the most influence in getting him the job. I jokingly said, "How would it look if you had the PRINCIPAL as one of your references?" We laughed a little at that, but he actually took that and thought about it.
The next day, after dropping him off early so he could get his reference signatures, I picked the kids up and asked which of the staff he'd gotten to sign his application. He'd asked his teacher, Andrea's teacher, and he'd gotten the principal to sign his application! Apparently Mr. C signed it in front of Mrs. M, the media tech, and said "David would be great for this job!" as he signed.
Well, yesterday David came home with a special letter addressed to him. He opened it up, and excitedly read to us that he'd gotten the position as a news anchor!
He is one of three kids that got the job for the first half of next school year. I'm pretty proud of him. He's pretty proud of himself. And I hope he learned some fun life lessons through this process. :)
Monday, May 1, 2017
Baby
So let me set the stage. I am a drama queen, after all, and this story had lots of dramas. *eye roll*
When the kids and I got back from our cross country trip last summer I had a sneaking suspicion I was expecting. We'd decided in June to start trying, I was hoping it would take a few months, but there was a big fat positive test and that was that. And almost in that moment the nausea set in. I'd been slightly sick with Andrea and Peter, fairly sick with David, but it was nothing compared to this. I lost a lot of weight between 6 and 18 weeks. It wasn't fun. I was pretty miserable. I let everyone know how miserable I was. And then I was asked to give a talk in church in November. In the course of my studies, I realized how whiny I was being, and how miserable I was making everyone else in my family. I began praying for the courage and strength to bear, with grace, whatever discomforts I was experiencing. Ha. Haha. Heh. Don't do that.
After the nausea finally abated my pelvis started splitting. And everything just hurt. Walking was painful, sitting was painful, lying down was painful. Walking, though. It was pretty bad, and it just got worse. Because I was trying to gracefully bear (ha. haha. heh.) my discomforts, I tried not to complain. I failed. A lot. Although I never mentioned anything to my midwife or doctor...
In December I started getting a weird spasm, on top of a hacking cough. The cough was terrible enough, but that pain in my side was intense. But it wasn't constant, and I figured it was just some random pregnancy thing. I dealt.
By February the cough finally went away, but the random spasm turned into a sharp, stabbing pain in my right side. Every time it hit I'd have to sit and catch my breath. My pelvis was separating. Braxton Hicks were pretty regular.
Things finally reached a head the last week of February. My random spasm was no longer random, it was constant. It was tender to the touch, as was just about the rest of my body. But, not wanting to be a drama queen, I didn't mention ANY of this to the midwife. I also wasn't comfortable talking about it with her, I don't know why I just didn't fully trust her. If it had been Sarah I think I would have... Either way, its done.
On March 7th (Tuesday) poor Jonathan came home to a wreck. The kids were arguing and throwing things at each other. No dinner was on the table. And I was so overwhelmed with the pain, fatigue, a migraine, and hormones I was in a corner sobbing. That was when it was finally said: "THIS is not normal. You need help." He was right. Aches are normal in late pregnancy, but severe, debilitating pain is not.
The next day (Wednesday) I stayed on the couch, I tried to rest, every time I moved I winced. I was scheduled to meet with a dr at my practice the next day. The goal was to have her assess me and then prescribe some pain killers that would actually work so I could clean my dang house before Emma got into town. Jonathan got kids settled for bed and suggested we watch a movie. As the movie started I had the thought "You should pack an overnight bag for the kids. Just in case." It nagged at me for a bit before I finally decided that no, I didn't need to do that. I'd get my pain killers, get comfortable, Emma would get in town, and then sometime the next week I'd have the baby. I enjoyed the movie (Dr. Strange).
Thursday morning I woke up in so much pain. The kids quietly went about their morning routine and got off to school without any complaint. I sat down ready to go back to bed at 9:00 a.m. and was very grateful that I had an hour before I needed to get myself and Peter down to the car and head out for my dr appt. I again had the thought that I should pack an overnight bag for the kids, just in case. Again, I dismissed it because I just knew I didn't need it. I instead took a leisurely shower (hot water helped with joint and back pain) and got dressed. As Peter and I were heading out the door I glanced at my hospital bag, mostly packed, and had the thought "You should bring that, just in case." I decided it wouldn't be worth the pain to carry out because I wasn't having the baby until the next week. St. Patrick's Day, that's what we were aiming for, right?? Ha. haha. heh.
So I get to my appointment, I try not to move to much. At this point I'm trying not to breathe too deeply because it is killing me. Peter watches a movie on my phone, and I finally get called back to a room. In a rush I explain to the nurse what is going on, crying the whole time, and I say "I just want some pain killers that will work so I can function." She takes my blood pressure and comments, "Well that's a little high." I think, no DUH! I'm in pain, no kidding it is high. The doctor comes in and I explain what's going on all over again. She takes my blood pressure. And then she says, "Before I give you pain medication I'd like you to go to the hospital and be monitored for a bit, just watch that blood pressure for a while." I'm so tired I can't argue. I got checked out and drove around the corner to the hospital.
On the drive over I call a friend who rearranges her entire day to come get Peter. I called Jonathan just to keep him updated. When he asked if he needed to come to the hospital I said no. "They are just going to monitor my blood pressure for a bit and then send me home. No biggie, stay at work." When my friend got to the hospital to get Peter I told her that I'd drive by and pick him up on my way home from the hospital. She looked skeptical, but I assured her that nothing was happening and I'd be headed home with my pain meds soon.
Well, I got situated in the room, hooked up to every wire and contraption and monitor ever, and then had my blood pressure read every 30 minutes. Baby was a stinker, and had so much fluid around her she kept swimming away from the monitors. Unfortunately because of the pressure concerns baby HAD to be monitored constantly. Lots of plans were discussed, I asked for medication again and again, but they really wanted to know why my side was hurting so badly. After a round of IV fluids they were able to get their answer: my liver had had enough of being pregnant and was starting to act out. The pain I'd been feeling for a month and a half was my liver warning me that it didn't like what it was being required to do and it was quitting. (If it wasn't my placenta with Peter, it was my liver with this baby. Geez.) I was originally under the impression that my urine tests had come back fine, but after the IV fluids settled apparently they were finding proteins in my urine. At that point they came to me with a solid plan: One more high blood pressure reading and they were going to induce. If it was normal I'd go home. I waited the extra 20 minutes, and the next reading was 160/78. With that I was done. I was formally admitted as a laboring mom and they started talking methods of induction. At that point I called Jonathan and told him he'd better get an overnight bag together for the kids, I was going to be induced. Oh, and could he please throw a couple more things in my hospital bag and bring it? Thanks, honey.
Funny enough, I'd been texting people this whole time, Emma included, but didn't tell them I was in the hospital. I figured there was no point, I'd be going home. Ha. haha. heh.
So on the evening of the 9th they started the induction. As I was not dilated AT ALL they didn't do pitocin, but started something else that would kickstart things. I dozed through the first two doses, uncomfortably strapped to a million machines, and finally got something for pain around 3 a.m. At 6:00 I asked for the epidural. I was a 4, and terribly uncomfortable because I couldn't be unhooked from anything longer than a bathroom trip, and the baby kept moving away from the monitors and the nurses had to come in every few minutes and readjust. I was so tired, and mad and scared and in pain. So the epidural was a sweet relief. About 9:00 the dr decided to break my water because I just wasn't progressing like I should and they couldn't keep the monitor on the baby. That intensified things instantly, and even with the epidural I was blowing through contractions, concentrating as much as I could on relaxing and focusing on letting my body do what it needed to. I got one extra boost of the epidural when I was an 8. And then at 10:45 Jonathan said, "I'm hungry, I'm going to just run down to the cafeteria to grab some breakfast." I told him NOPE! He wasn't going anywhere. I told the nurse I was feeling lots of pressure, and a few minutes later I was told it was time to have a baby. Elizabeth Anne was born at 10:54 a.m., 8 lbs and 19.5 inches long.
Within four hours of birth she was transferred to the Special Care nursery, and she spent an intense week at the hospital trying to get her blood sugar under control. It was rough. I've never done so much walking the same day I gave birth, but I had to do it. And I didn't stop. I spent two days back and forth from my room to the nursery, spending every moment I could with Elizabeth, and then the rest of the next week making the trek between the hospital and home a couple times each day. It wasn't fun. And that experience is a whole other post, maybe I'll write it out someday.
So lessons learned from this whole experience:
1. Do NOT ignore your body. It WILL tell you when something isn't right, and things will get way worse if you don't listen.
2. Ask for help. I have lots of friends that are like family, they were always asking what they could do to help. I should have asked for more help.
3. Miracles are real, and blessings provide relief and peace.
4. Nurses know what the best hand lotions are. Aveeno is very popular, and for good reason. ;)
I'm glad I'm on the other side of this entire ordeal. It is crazy to me that this all happened seven weeks ago... I'm still recovering. My liver is still angry with me, and I need to treat it nicely for a long while. No smoking, no drinking. (ha) At my six-week postpartum check up my midwife and dr asked why I hadn't said anything about the pain I was in. I told them I didn't want to be whiny and complain. So instead I didn't pay attention to a liver that was falling down on the job and allowed myself to get really sick. Its really stupid. In my attempt to handle discomfort with grace I turned the entire situation into a mess. I'm just grateful it wasn't worse. I'm glad I spoke up when I did. It could have been so much worse. And I obviously don't know what "grace" actually is. *eye roll*
And now I do the postpartum dance with emotions and hormones and crazy. I cuddle with my new little girl, an adorable little thing (seriously little! She still doesn't weigh as much as Andrea did at birth!!) with so much hair! And I mourn the loss of my dream birth, something that I'll never have. I blew my last shot and now I'm sad about it all. And then I'm just so glad I'm not pregnant any more, and so glad I don't have to do that again. That was so painful. SO painful. All of it. And it took its toll on my entire family in some really negative ways. Those poor big kids of mine, they really stepped up and helped out. But they also did a lot of wall-building and coping that wasn't healthy for them or good for us as a family. And it is going to take a lot of time for some of that to heal.
So I'm just grateful that things have slowed down some. The constant flow of visitors has ebbed, and we are able to quietly go back to our routine and norm, this time with Elizabeth. Life is good, and its getting better all the time.
When the kids and I got back from our cross country trip last summer I had a sneaking suspicion I was expecting. We'd decided in June to start trying, I was hoping it would take a few months, but there was a big fat positive test and that was that. And almost in that moment the nausea set in. I'd been slightly sick with Andrea and Peter, fairly sick with David, but it was nothing compared to this. I lost a lot of weight between 6 and 18 weeks. It wasn't fun. I was pretty miserable. I let everyone know how miserable I was. And then I was asked to give a talk in church in November. In the course of my studies, I realized how whiny I was being, and how miserable I was making everyone else in my family. I began praying for the courage and strength to bear, with grace, whatever discomforts I was experiencing. Ha. Haha. Heh. Don't do that.
After the nausea finally abated my pelvis started splitting. And everything just hurt. Walking was painful, sitting was painful, lying down was painful. Walking, though. It was pretty bad, and it just got worse. Because I was trying to gracefully bear (ha. haha. heh.) my discomforts, I tried not to complain. I failed. A lot. Although I never mentioned anything to my midwife or doctor...
In December I started getting a weird spasm, on top of a hacking cough. The cough was terrible enough, but that pain in my side was intense. But it wasn't constant, and I figured it was just some random pregnancy thing. I dealt.
By February the cough finally went away, but the random spasm turned into a sharp, stabbing pain in my right side. Every time it hit I'd have to sit and catch my breath. My pelvis was separating. Braxton Hicks were pretty regular.
Things finally reached a head the last week of February. My random spasm was no longer random, it was constant. It was tender to the touch, as was just about the rest of my body. But, not wanting to be a drama queen, I didn't mention ANY of this to the midwife. I also wasn't comfortable talking about it with her, I don't know why I just didn't fully trust her. If it had been Sarah I think I would have... Either way, its done.
On March 7th (Tuesday) poor Jonathan came home to a wreck. The kids were arguing and throwing things at each other. No dinner was on the table. And I was so overwhelmed with the pain, fatigue, a migraine, and hormones I was in a corner sobbing. That was when it was finally said: "THIS is not normal. You need help." He was right. Aches are normal in late pregnancy, but severe, debilitating pain is not.
The next day (Wednesday) I stayed on the couch, I tried to rest, every time I moved I winced. I was scheduled to meet with a dr at my practice the next day. The goal was to have her assess me and then prescribe some pain killers that would actually work so I could clean my dang house before Emma got into town. Jonathan got kids settled for bed and suggested we watch a movie. As the movie started I had the thought "You should pack an overnight bag for the kids. Just in case." It nagged at me for a bit before I finally decided that no, I didn't need to do that. I'd get my pain killers, get comfortable, Emma would get in town, and then sometime the next week I'd have the baby. I enjoyed the movie (Dr. Strange).
Thursday morning I woke up in so much pain. The kids quietly went about their morning routine and got off to school without any complaint. I sat down ready to go back to bed at 9:00 a.m. and was very grateful that I had an hour before I needed to get myself and Peter down to the car and head out for my dr appt. I again had the thought that I should pack an overnight bag for the kids, just in case. Again, I dismissed it because I just knew I didn't need it. I instead took a leisurely shower (hot water helped with joint and back pain) and got dressed. As Peter and I were heading out the door I glanced at my hospital bag, mostly packed, and had the thought "You should bring that, just in case." I decided it wouldn't be worth the pain to carry out because I wasn't having the baby until the next week. St. Patrick's Day, that's what we were aiming for, right?? Ha. haha. heh.
So I get to my appointment, I try not to move to much. At this point I'm trying not to breathe too deeply because it is killing me. Peter watches a movie on my phone, and I finally get called back to a room. In a rush I explain to the nurse what is going on, crying the whole time, and I say "I just want some pain killers that will work so I can function." She takes my blood pressure and comments, "Well that's a little high." I think, no DUH! I'm in pain, no kidding it is high. The doctor comes in and I explain what's going on all over again. She takes my blood pressure. And then she says, "Before I give you pain medication I'd like you to go to the hospital and be monitored for a bit, just watch that blood pressure for a while." I'm so tired I can't argue. I got checked out and drove around the corner to the hospital.
On the drive over I call a friend who rearranges her entire day to come get Peter. I called Jonathan just to keep him updated. When he asked if he needed to come to the hospital I said no. "They are just going to monitor my blood pressure for a bit and then send me home. No biggie, stay at work." When my friend got to the hospital to get Peter I told her that I'd drive by and pick him up on my way home from the hospital. She looked skeptical, but I assured her that nothing was happening and I'd be headed home with my pain meds soon.
Well, I got situated in the room, hooked up to every wire and contraption and monitor ever, and then had my blood pressure read every 30 minutes. Baby was a stinker, and had so much fluid around her she kept swimming away from the monitors. Unfortunately because of the pressure concerns baby HAD to be monitored constantly. Lots of plans were discussed, I asked for medication again and again, but they really wanted to know why my side was hurting so badly. After a round of IV fluids they were able to get their answer: my liver had had enough of being pregnant and was starting to act out. The pain I'd been feeling for a month and a half was my liver warning me that it didn't like what it was being required to do and it was quitting. (If it wasn't my placenta with Peter, it was my liver with this baby. Geez.) I was originally under the impression that my urine tests had come back fine, but after the IV fluids settled apparently they were finding proteins in my urine. At that point they came to me with a solid plan: One more high blood pressure reading and they were going to induce. If it was normal I'd go home. I waited the extra 20 minutes, and the next reading was 160/78. With that I was done. I was formally admitted as a laboring mom and they started talking methods of induction. At that point I called Jonathan and told him he'd better get an overnight bag together for the kids, I was going to be induced. Oh, and could he please throw a couple more things in my hospital bag and bring it? Thanks, honey.
Funny enough, I'd been texting people this whole time, Emma included, but didn't tell them I was in the hospital. I figured there was no point, I'd be going home. Ha. haha. heh.
So on the evening of the 9th they started the induction. As I was not dilated AT ALL they didn't do pitocin, but started something else that would kickstart things. I dozed through the first two doses, uncomfortably strapped to a million machines, and finally got something for pain around 3 a.m. At 6:00 I asked for the epidural. I was a 4, and terribly uncomfortable because I couldn't be unhooked from anything longer than a bathroom trip, and the baby kept moving away from the monitors and the nurses had to come in every few minutes and readjust. I was so tired, and mad and scared and in pain. So the epidural was a sweet relief. About 9:00 the dr decided to break my water because I just wasn't progressing like I should and they couldn't keep the monitor on the baby. That intensified things instantly, and even with the epidural I was blowing through contractions, concentrating as much as I could on relaxing and focusing on letting my body do what it needed to. I got one extra boost of the epidural when I was an 8. And then at 10:45 Jonathan said, "I'm hungry, I'm going to just run down to the cafeteria to grab some breakfast." I told him NOPE! He wasn't going anywhere. I told the nurse I was feeling lots of pressure, and a few minutes later I was told it was time to have a baby. Elizabeth Anne was born at 10:54 a.m., 8 lbs and 19.5 inches long.
Within four hours of birth she was transferred to the Special Care nursery, and she spent an intense week at the hospital trying to get her blood sugar under control. It was rough. I've never done so much walking the same day I gave birth, but I had to do it. And I didn't stop. I spent two days back and forth from my room to the nursery, spending every moment I could with Elizabeth, and then the rest of the next week making the trek between the hospital and home a couple times each day. It wasn't fun. And that experience is a whole other post, maybe I'll write it out someday.
So lessons learned from this whole experience:
1. Do NOT ignore your body. It WILL tell you when something isn't right, and things will get way worse if you don't listen.
2. Ask for help. I have lots of friends that are like family, they were always asking what they could do to help. I should have asked for more help.
3. Miracles are real, and blessings provide relief and peace.
4. Nurses know what the best hand lotions are. Aveeno is very popular, and for good reason. ;)
I'm glad I'm on the other side of this entire ordeal. It is crazy to me that this all happened seven weeks ago... I'm still recovering. My liver is still angry with me, and I need to treat it nicely for a long while. No smoking, no drinking. (ha) At my six-week postpartum check up my midwife and dr asked why I hadn't said anything about the pain I was in. I told them I didn't want to be whiny and complain. So instead I didn't pay attention to a liver that was falling down on the job and allowed myself to get really sick. Its really stupid. In my attempt to handle discomfort with grace I turned the entire situation into a mess. I'm just grateful it wasn't worse. I'm glad I spoke up when I did. It could have been so much worse. And I obviously don't know what "grace" actually is. *eye roll*
And now I do the postpartum dance with emotions and hormones and crazy. I cuddle with my new little girl, an adorable little thing (seriously little! She still doesn't weigh as much as Andrea did at birth!!) with so much hair! And I mourn the loss of my dream birth, something that I'll never have. I blew my last shot and now I'm sad about it all. And then I'm just so glad I'm not pregnant any more, and so glad I don't have to do that again. That was so painful. SO painful. All of it. And it took its toll on my entire family in some really negative ways. Those poor big kids of mine, they really stepped up and helped out. But they also did a lot of wall-building and coping that wasn't healthy for them or good for us as a family. And it is going to take a lot of time for some of that to heal.
So I'm just grateful that things have slowed down some. The constant flow of visitors has ebbed, and we are able to quietly go back to our routine and norm, this time with Elizabeth. Life is good, and its getting better all the time.
Saturday, February 18, 2017
The Final Countdown
I'm 34 weeks right now. According to my history that means I've got another 3-4 weeks before we welcome Miss Little Bit to our home. It is doubly weird for me because I still feel like I'm barely pregnant. It has gone really, REALLY fast.
A couple weeks ago a bunch of ladies gathered together to throw a shower for me and another mom. I really wasn't sure I wanted to have one, fourth baby and all, but this ward loves new babies and loves to throw parties for new babies. So we got diapers. Tons and tons of diapers! I'm going to guess I won't need to buy diapers until August. I hope I'm right.
And then a friend (my library guru friend) is also a photographer trying to build her portfolio. She asked if I would mind being her guinea pig for a maternity/newborn/milestones package. Would I??? I've never done maternity pictures before, it was a fun new experience. Here's a sneak peak of a few of the pictures...
My to-do list has shrunken some...
- I have an infant car seat arriving via Amazon early next week
- I have an AWESOME stroller (thanks, Mom & Dad!) that I am taking for a real test-drive on Monday at the zoo
- Fixed my Baggallini bag, which was a much easier fix than I'd expected
- Made four sheets for my beautiful, antique cradle (which I discovered was made sometime around 1926!)
So all that's left:
- Wash remaining baby clothes
- Pack a hospital bag
- Finish the quilt
- Freezer meal prep
Of course I have other to-dos. I would love for my house to be scrubbed spotless. I would love to take a scrubby to the back of a seat in the car that Peter somehow managed to doodle all over (WHY????). I would love to get Andrea's spring church dress and the boys' spring church clothes together and ready for Easter. And while doing all of this I'm helping Jonathan with his guard responsibilities (we did flashcards while running errands today) and I'm keeping everyone on task and on schedule. It is a good life. Tiring, especially right now, but so so good.
Speaking of tiring, Jonathan and I got to the temple last night. Probably the last time we will go before Little Bit arrives because I don't do well with a lot of movement, and I totally started having really nasty Braxton Hicks contractions. I had a few "Are you okay???" questions from very anxious looking temple workers that probably thought I was going to have a baby right there. And there I'd thought I was doing well not getting distracted or being distracting.... I didn't have time to explain that I have a few weeks to go before the real-deal and they didn't need to worry. Apparently it is a concern, though, because I randomly saw an article this morning about women who gave birth in temples followed up by lots of comments from temple workers that BEGGED women to NOT try to have their babies in temple as apparently it causes quite a lot of work and headache for the custodians... Haha! No worries! I am very excited to have my baby at the hospital, thankyouverymuch. ;)
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