A memory

Polly is starting preschool this week, and I was reminiscing about the fall of 2014 when Lars started at the same school. I was newly pregnant with Polly and soooo sick. I had to force myself to eat so that I wouldn't feel sicker, and I ate so many terrible salty nostalgia convenience foods, which were all I wanted to eat. By the time I was pregnant with Polly, I learned that choking down an egg first thing in the morning, and more throughout the day, helped a lot. Must have been the protein, I guess.

So anyway, I would drive Lars to school, then head straight home and get back into bed with a bowl of Top Ramen and/or a hard-boiled egg to listen to the newest episode of the podcast Serial.

I don't remember specifics of when the season finale was of that podcast, but I do think that around Thanksgiving I stopped listening for some reason (I probably decided to sleep during preschool instead) and then, once I finally felt better around 20 weeks, I could never listen to that podcast again, so I never finished it. I still don't know if Adnan did it. Just typing his name brings that twinge of nausea. I think if I Googled it I might accidentally throw up.

The lasting effects of morning sickness are so weird. When I was newly pregnant with Theo I used to use Redken's Blonde Glam shampoo, which I loved. By the second trimester I had to throw it away and avoid the Redken section of the shampoo aisle any time I was at the store. I also had to give away the clothes I wore in my first trimester because they made me sick just to look at them.

Anyway the point of all this is that although I will be working most of the hours that Polly is in preschool, I will have one morning a week to do what I want to do. And when I was pondering what that might be, I felt immensely grateful that "what I want to do" will not include languishing in bed, forcing myself to swallow food. And no Serial. Ever.

Almost there

Well hello again!

I was talking to my sister, who is due any day with her second baby. She was feeling that feeling that I personally had at the end of each of my pregnancies and I imagine that most pregnant women feel: anxious, curious, a bit overwhelmed. Easily led this way and that by whatever casual remark and/or doomsday prophecy that the doctor makes. (Darn those doctors.) When is this going to happen? What is going to happen? How is it going to be? Can I just get this baby in my arms already??

I was thinking about 2 years ago today when my mom had just arrived for Polly's birth. This was the first time she had come before a baby arrived. It was the day before my due date, and for whatever reason I was majorly anxious that the baby would somehow not arrive until my mom was scheduled to leave, which was a week or two later. I remember we all went to Theo's baseball game, and then my mom and I took Lars to his swimming lesson. We walked around the teacher's neighborhood during the lesson, then went home and took another walk, about 3 miles total. When we got home we found that the kids had been busy in our absence

I can't remember what anyone else did the rest of the day, but I know I painted the ceiling above Theo's bed as well as the basement stairway (I specifically remember I caught my mom taking a picture of me as I pregnantly painted the stairway and I said "Don't you dare post that on Instagram!" and she said "I wasn't going to post it!" uh-huh. sure) Anyway, as the day went on I got crankier and I worked more furiously. I mowed the lawn, weeded all the garden beds, and transplanted a bunch of hostas because my yard is hosta-land. Once it got dark and I had to come inside, I vacuumed every room and made cookies. Matt and my mom sat on the couch and chatted with each other and occasionally laughed at me... in a loving way of course. I ate some cookies.

I finally went to bed after midnight and woke up a few hours later in labor. I ate more cookies. I cried. I wondered if it would ever end. Some other stuff happened which I will spare you the details of. Polly arrived at 9 a.m.

Anyway, that last couple of weeks were hard, and I worried about everything, and then all of a sudden the baby was here and that part of my life was over. On to new challenges and new ways to worry and grow. I think that anxiety at the end is a normal and necessary part of pregnancy. Knowing that doesn't make it any easier at the time. But recognizing it later is helpful. It feels like a parable of sorts. Darkest before the dawn and all of that. And when the dawn comes it is usually right when you're thinking it never will.

Polly's big day.

I don't want to wait too long to write Polly's birth story. I feel like the most accurate birth story I wrote was Lars's, which I wrote the day after his birth. Theo's and Ida's I wrote several weeks after the fact, and by then I'd forgotten a lot.

Word of warning: this is kinda detailed--though I've left the goriest details out--so if you're squeamish about childbirth and bodies and stuff, you'll probably want to skip this particular post.

A few weeks before my due date, I started being extra grumpy and demanding. I was having painful contractions, but they were not close enough together to mean anything. I felt exhausted all the time and could barely make it up stairs. I had no energy to do any of the things I wanted to do. I forced myself to go for long walks with Lars and to the rec center to swim laps, both of which helped. When the oak tree in front of our house started shedding its weird little furry things, allergies took over and I was 100% miserable. Finally on my midwife's advice I started taking Zyrtec and magically felt much better, if a little groggy. I slept all night and was also forced to nap every afternoon since the Zyrtec made me so sleepy.

By the time my mom arrived, I was not only feeling better, I was also feeling more energetic. I was still convinced that my baby would be so late that the birth would barely overlap with my mom's visit. So I decided I needed to take steps: I was going to force this baby out. The day she arrived, I had walked three miles, mostly uphill, pushing Lars in the stroller. 

The next day was Saturday. She and I went to Theo's baseball game, then Ida's swim lesson, then for a two-mile walk around the neighborhood. When we got back and I was still feeling discouraged about labor ever happening, my mom suggested I start a project. I decided a good project would be mounting some shelves and reading lamps on the boys' bedroom wall next to their beds. Soon enough it became apparent that this project was almost exclusively going to be Matt's, so since Matt wasn't the one who needed to go into labor, I got out some paint and began painting the basement stairway. When that project ended, I painted part of the boys' bedroom ceiling. When I got tired of painting I moved outside, where the kids were all playing with the neighbors, and I spent a couple of hours transplanting some old flowers and planting some new flowers. I raked and mowed the lawn. I watered all the outdoor plants. I cleaned up debris from the side yard. 

Finally I came in and got the little kids ready for bed. (Theo and Matt were at Theo's swim practice.) When Ida was almost asleep I remembered I had wanted to use the leftover stairway paint for touchups in her room, so I turned her light back on and did the touch-ups while she sleepily chatted to me about her day.

Matt and Theo got home, Theo went to bed, and Matt and my mom sat talking on the couch while I vacuumed and then made cookies. We all joked about how hard I was trying to induce labor. Finally we went to bed a little before midnight. At 1:45 I woke up to painful contractions. I wondered, "Is this it?? Could walking and painting and mowing the lawn and vacuuming and making cookies possibly have worked??" But the contractions were unevenly spaced and I wasn't sure they were doing anything. I tried to fall back asleep and couldn't. I went downstairs and sat on the yoga ball through a few contractions. I ate a cookie, which made me feel sick. Contractions seemed to be getting a little worse, but not any closer together, and I was lonely and tired downstairs, so I headed back up with the ball.

By 4 a.m. I decided to wake Matt up and tell him this was it. He got up and got dressed, talked me through my contractions, called the doula, and gave me a blessing. I finished packing my hospital bag. Nicole arrived by 6ish. I still wasn't sure what kind of labor this was going to be because the contractions still seemed so far apart to me, and they were really painful but I was totally lucid and aware and talking in between. She had me try a few things, standing up and doing hip circles instead of sitting on the ball by the bed with my head on a pillow (which I had been doing for all the contractions by that point). I started to cry. Matt went downstairs to wake up my mom. By the time he got back, Nicole suggested that we should leave. She called the midwife and let her know we were coming. I still thought I might have an entire day of labor in front of me because I felt so present and aware, unlike in my previous labors when I felt out of control and out of sync with reality.

As a side note, I really loved my doula. She was the same one who helped me during Lars's labor. She told me exactly what to do the entire time, how to vocalize, how to move, and for someone who felt a little bit paralyzed with fear (as I did) this was so important. I can't emphasize enough how critical it was for me to have such a supportive doula in order to get through contractions. I wonder if that's why these contractions felt so much more manageable and why I was so lucid in between.

We arrived at the hospital by 7 a.m. and checked in. Walking in felt so weird because I could feel the baby moving down. I had already told both Nicole and Matt that I was nervous about letting the baby move down. I guess it's funny that I got so nervous about birth happening, since the previous day I had been doing everything I could possibly think of to make it happen. I had a big contraction in the elevator and the woman standing next to me smiled and congratulated me.

We made it into the room--after I signed several forms using what felt like all of my strength to form the letters of my name--and people started sticking needles and IV locks in me and putting monitors on me. The labor nurse was the cheeriest, happiest woman I think I've ever met. The midwife was one of my favorites (I went to a large group practice with I think 7 or 8 midwives) and I was glad she'd be the one helping me. I found out a few minutes later that she had to leave, but the one replacing her was my other favorite. Everyone was so encouraging the whole time. The nurses, the midwives, the OB-GYN resident (or was she a student? no idea) who had come in to observe and help. Everyone kept telling me that the baby's heartbeat sounded great (which I loved because during my past labors I hardly remember thinking about the baby, I could only focus on the contractions). The baby felt low and I wanted to push but it seemed way too soon. I told them that and they all encouraged me to do whatever I felt like and that when it was time to push I would know.

Someone asked if I wanted to get into the tub. I knew that waterbirth was an option but I hadn't really thought about whether I wanted to try it. I still had no idea how far along I was in labor so I thought I'd try out the tub for a bit. It felt pretty good. The midwife checked me (7 centimeters) and said it was probably still early to push but to go with whatever felt right. The midwife and nurse both asked me if I wanted to have the baby in the tub and I couldn't decide, but I guess I decided by default by just not getting out. I made it through several more contractions in the tub, and slowly I started partially pushing through them. After one ridiculously long (it felt about 3 times as long as the previous ones--maybe it was a few contractions in a row with no break, I don't know) I began pushing for real. Once my water broke, Nicole and Matt supported my arms and I began the last few pushes. 

On the second to last push, the baby's head came about halfway out before the contraction ended, and that, my friends, was the weirdest sensation I've ever had. I was still so lucid and it struck me how crazy it was that I was squatting there in a tub, surrounded by people, with my baby's head halfway out. One final push got her head and body out all at once. Matt grabbed her and handed her to me. (He told me later that her face was under water for about 3 seconds between her actual birth and when I held her in my arms.) They wanted her head out of the water for air, but her body in for warmth, and I was shaking with relief and disbelief, so I really didn't have the strength to hold her out in front of me and check whether she was a boy or a girl. So I just held her for a few moments until someone (Matt, I guess?) helped me hold her out so I could look. I saw that she was a girl and started crying. My first thought was how happy Ida would be to have a sister.

It wasn't quite 9 a.m., and only a few hours before, I had been baking cookies and vacuuming and painting and frantically worrying that the baby wouldn't arrive before my mom had to go back to California. Not only did she come, but she came on her due date, on Mothers Day, after the best (still painful but so much better than the others) labor I'd ever had. And she was a girl. And my third Sunday baby in a row. (All my VBACs were Sunday babies. awesome) 

I couldn't love Matt more and I couldn't love Polly more and I couldn't love any of my sweet babies more, than I did in that moment when I held Polly for the first time and knew for real that I wouldn't actually be pregnant forever (there went my Guinness Book of World Records plans); that labor wouldn't last forever; that sometimes life is hard and then all of a sudden for a few minutes it is easy; that sometimes I just get blessings without having done anything at all to deserve them; and that I would never forget this beautiful, perfect Mothers Day.

Grumpy cat

This week... I am so so so so grumpy.

Sorry. 

Generally I've been getting grumpy around 5 pm and then something resets the next morning. But today nothing reset. I actually woke up grumpy.

I blame the onset of really bad allergies and I also blame the growing suspicion that my baby is going to be late. Darn you, baby.

I still love you, though.

Desks

Sometime in the past year or so--when Theo started having regular homework--I changed one of his closets (he has 2 decent-sized ones) into a desk. 

When Ida started kindergarten I figured she could use one too. She only has one little closet (her room is tiny), but I think this is a better use of space for her than hanging up dresses. She loves to hoard magazines and papers and random stuff and this way it all has a home. With a door that closes.

Also sometime in the past year I got more organized about toys. (Matt calls it "more controlling"... potato, potahto) Anyway both closets have a high shelf where I put a good chunk of their toys. They can rotate toys out any time they want but they have to put something else up there if they get something down. 

It's especially helpful when they have friends over, because it reminds everyone not to dump everything out at once. Something about visiting someone else's house seems to make all kids (including my own) dump everything out at once. Novelty, I guess.

I have no control over when this baby is coming or what kind of baby it's going to be (fussy, sleepy etc.) or how my older kids are going to handle the change. Pretty sure that's what all my random nesting projects are really addressing....

"Yo, this is definitely the last days"

I had a rough week and decided, prompted by some very good advice, that I needed a time out. (And that possibly my family needed a time out from me.)

So I left in the early afternoon, got a pedicure, got some food, saw a movie by myself with only Ben & Jerry's keeping me company ("The Age of Adaline"--so so bad, but fun brainless fluff, and Harrison Ford was great as usual), and checked into a local hotel. Where I promptly watched another movie ("Enough Said"--which was really good!) and took a bath and slept in and gorged on the breakfast buffet and took another bath and then went home the next afternoon feeling rejuvenated and ready to be normal again.

My view from the hotel:

My real view from the hotel:

That's life in the 'burbs, baby!

I've never done anything like that. It was a splurge for sure. But it was great and I highly recommend it.

The next day I had my house cleaned, which is something else I never do but have always wanted to do at the end of pregnancy. Also highly recommend that.

Matt and I both feel like this is probably our last child, so I guess I am feeling extra splurge-y as this pregnancy lumbers slowly to an end.

The memory of these little splurges is helping me get through the lumbering. Matt is helping a lot too. I came home last night from my last night of work (until the fall anyway) to find he had put together the crib--one of the very last things on the long to-do list. I was so happy to see it standing assembled next to our bed.

I spent this morning at the temple and felt such peace there. I love the initiatory ordinance and the calm happy feelings it brings me. I love chatting with the temple workers too.

I'm so ready to meet our new baby. But it's up to him (or her, but I think it's a him) to decide when that will be. 

(Month by month photos: something else I've never done until now.)

My due date is May 10; based on past experience I'm guessing the baby's birthday could be anytime in the next 2 to 2 1/2 weeks. (Please bless that it's no longer than that.) See you soon, baby!

Winter's gone for real.

Winter is gone for real. For real! No more snow. I feel it in my bones. Cold days yes, snow days no. Hopefully I'm not wrong about that.

A few weeks ago we went to the zoo at Theo's request. We hadn't been in so long! Like maybe since Lars was a baby, or maybe even before that.

The first thing we saw when we walked in was a lion who was roaring his head off. He seriously roared for like 15 minutes straight. It was awesome. Or maybe it was sad. I don't know what he was roaring for.

A few friends joined us. Always makes it more fun.

I love pandas. They are so funny.

Now it's spring break and once again we are having lovely weather. I'm in a total spring break mentality and have done zero cleaning up around my house. It is a disaster. On Monday, while painters painted my house, instead of doing anything productive I spent the day reading a book and let the kids do whatever they wanted (basically playing, eating, and watching a movie). I felt productive though, because the painters were working. And actually I did go on a walk with the kids and we picked up trash in the neighborhood. That makes exactly 1 Cub Scout achievement I've helped Theo with since he turned 8. Baby steps...

We won't make it to the zoo again this week, but we have spent a lot of time outside. Tuesday the kids had piano lessons and played outside. Wednesday we met friends at the park before I have to go to work (only a few more weeks of work for me!). 

Today we went on a hike, also with friends. It was a little bleak looking because the trees are all still bare... but the temperature was perfect! It was a little chilly at first but it warmed up and was probably almost into the 60s by the time we left.

Then this weekend is general conference and Easter. Two weeks later is my birthday. Three weeks after that is my due date. That's so weird. And awesome. Spring came after all!

Oh and Ida lost her first tooth on Sunday. She was super nervous about pulling it out but wanted to do it herself. Matt and I decided recently that since Theo pretty much just swallows all his loose teeth--to our everlasting annoyance (or maybe just mine)--the tooth fairy would no longer leave money without evidence of an actual tooth. So I told Ida that, and then she spent 20 minutes in front of the mirror, triumphantly emerging at the end with a tiny tooth in her hand and a mouth full of blood. I love that girl and her determination.

Despite the amount of lying on the couch I've been doing, I've also been somewhat busy checking things off my nesting list, enlisting Matt's strength and/or patience for several of the things. My nesting has definitely been much slower and more drawn out this time than in the past. Just as many ideas as usual, but way less energy to make them happen. I have been trying to work out more and have fit in a few swim and walk workouts the last few weeks. The house got painted, and Matt did a project for me over the weekend that involved cutting long planks of wood using a Skilsaw in our basement... no easy feat. Then he got to use a nail gun, so hopefully that was fun for him. I've also been doing some painting, which I can't do very much of at a time. I've done my share of pregnancy painting in the past, and I don't remember it being quite this taxing. Just like everything else, I guess it's just all harder the fourth time around.

Theo started baseball, and he's wrapping up winter swim, and getting ready to start summer swim, and Ida's about to start swim lessons to prepare her for swim team tryouts in May. I have a bunch of stuff scheduled for the kids throughout May, which Matt and I were just discussing last night might sound a little crazy, but what am I supposed to do, make my kids sit around and wait with me for the baby to come? The weekend of my due date is the father-daughter campout, and the following weekend is the father-son campout. So unless the baby comes early, I'm thinking the kids won't get to actually camp out. I haven't informed them of that yet. But I'm imagining me calling Matt in the middle of the night and him packing up a tent and sleepy kids and driving home so he can be with me in labor... not sounding like a great idea. They'll go for the campfire, but if I'm still pregnant they won't get to stay the night. Oh well--there's always the infinitesimal chance that the baby will come early!

Also in two weeks-ish is my dad's 10th Boston marathon, which I haven't decided yet whether I'm going to attend. All signs point to no. I've been to 5 of them (all the ones he's done while we've lived in VA) and would be super bummed to miss this one. Cheering my dad on at marathons is my favorite. I'll just have to see whether I magically feel incredible at 37 weeks pregnant. Not holding my breath.

It's so fun for me to look at the calendar and anticipate the many events of May. Fun and weird. Especially now that I'm starting to see food expiration dates in my fridge that are later than my due date. I always notice those. Weird, I know. Weird and fun.

They drive slow, they sit low.

I realized in looking through old photos that I have more pregnancy pictures than I thought I did. In fact I specifically have documentary evidence of myself at 7-8 months for every pregnancy. No photos past 8 months, though, except for Theo. Can you guess which is which? (Not hard to do.) Also--my babies sure like to sit low.

Seasons

These photos are from a few weeks ago when church was canceled--for the second week in a row. The Sunday after that, we still had sacrament meeting but the bishopric sent everyone home after the second hour. I think if we hadn't already missed church for the previous two weeks they would have canceled that day altogether because it was super icy and slick, with freezing rain falling on top of snow.

We got somewhere around 7ish inches yesterday, I think. Dulles Airport reported 8.5". So the kids' schools were canceled yesterday and today. I haven't been keeping track, but one friend said that we haven't had a full week of school since before Christmas. Honestly I haven't minded that much, because I'm so tired all the time so I mostly lie around on the couch, and my kids are being inexplicably awesome. I mean they are great kids of course, but kids are kids. They can be obnoxious and it's OK to admit that, right? I feel like I am being blessed for some reason this winter, though, with kids who are not driving me crazy on all these snow days. I can give a lot of kudos to Theo, who really seems to have turned a corner as far as overall pleasantness and helpfulness and communication ability. Maybe he and I both have. ;)

We have about 2 more months to go before #4 shows up. I think the relentless snow is helping me look forward to that even more. Spring is always extra exciting after a long winter, even more so when it comes with nesting plans, oh yes, and a baby! I'm eager to get my backyard cleaned up, the house trim and front door painted, some flowers and vegetables planted, that sort of thing, before the baby comes. Most of all I'm excited about opening the windows. Since we got new windows this year with fancy locks that let you leave the window partially open when it's still locked, I'll be able to leave them cracked open all day and all night if I want to. The smell of fresh spring air coming through my house on a nice day is probably my favorite smell. I like it better than brownies baking, or the perfume I used to wear in high school, or a freshly bleached bathroom, or my orange-creamsicle candle, or a campfire, or sawdust, or hot tar ("smells like money," I heard my dad say once), or any other happy smell. Can I help it? I love good smells. Pregnancy amplifies my smell sense by about 500%, so I'm especially looking forward to that.

I remember when I was pregnant with Ida, I got similarly excited about the approach of fall that year. Fall is always fun, but it was especially fun to anticipate when I was also anticipating a new baby at the same time.

I think I could still get behind living in California again (or some other temperate climate)--I never minded not having seasons as a kid. And my kids love snow, but I think they'd also love to be able to play at the park and wear shorts all year long. But although I didn't mind, I also didn't really think about it. I completely took beautiful weather for granted. It was just part of life and I expected it. I'm glad I've gotten to live in places with such clear seasons. It never gets boring and I really love the contrast. I lived in Utah for six years (minus a few summers in college), and I've lived in Virginia now for eight and a half years!! That's so crazy to me! 

Anyway, I complain with the best of them about humid summers or icy winters, but the contrast makes fall and spring--and the random pleasant days that still show up quite often in a Virginia summer and winter--that much more amazing. My friend Ie Li (who also grew up in southern California) always says "Snow is a miracle" and she's so right. Snow is inconvenient and slippery and heavy and so so cold, but it is a miracle. Every season is a miracle. I'm so excited to see the cherry blossoms come out again and turn my whole street pink for a few weeks, and my perennial flowers poke back up like they always do. I'm excited to plant new plants in my garden box, other than kale (if the past two years' worth of kale comes back, I am ripping it all out this year). I'm excited to put spearmint and peppermint in the hanging pot by my front door again--speaking of my love for smells, that was the most genius garden move I made last year, even though I rarely used the actual leaves, because I got to smell them all summer every time I walked through the door.

This pregnancy has been really hard. Physically, mentally--mostly physically. It got easier for about a month in the middle and then harder again. I (don't think I) complain that much about it to most people, but Matt sure gets an earful. Yet I have been so blessed to appreciate things that make it easier than it could be. Like pleasant children. Or a strong and supportive husband--which, I should add, is a blessing that has not yet ever wavered in 11 years. Or good health. (We had a brief scare when my midwife referred me to a neonatal cardiologist a few months ago, but thankfully the baby's heart turned out to be fine.) Or most of all, the expectation--based on experience--that this pregnancy, which could be my last, is going to end before I know it; the childbirth part (which I am avoiding thinking about) won't last longer than a day; and it will all bring a brand-new person that I think is going to fit right in with our family.

The kids are all so excited to meet the baby, even more excited than I am about peppermint leaves and open windows and a freshly painted door. I've had to admit to myself that with the way my energy level has been steadily plummeting, I might not get all the springtime nesting done that I want to. But the baby is coming either way! And bare minimum, I can still open the windows! Ida said to me the other day when I had a little grumpy episode (honestly, although I do get anxious, I am rarely grumpy, especially compared to past pregnancies; that has been another unexpected blessing of this pregnancy), "Won't it be nice when the baby comes and you won't have to be grumpy and tired anymore because you won't be pregnant anymore?" Oh honey...sorry, but it might get worse before it gets better. :) But bring it on! Would I appreciate the spring as much without the winter just before? Would I think it was quite so amazing? Would my kids? I really don't think we would.

Thanks for a new chapter.

Ida gave me this list the other day. Because... if you haven't guessed or haven't heard... we are expecting a new baby sometime around Mothers Day. I would especially love for it to arrive on Mothers Day, mainly because I think 5-10-15 would be an awesome birthday.

The kids are thrilled and they all talk about it every day. What it's doing, how big it is now, how it gets its air and food, where it will be born, how old everyone will be in May, how big I personally will get by May (an especially popular topic). 

Matt and I are thrilled too and so, so thankful for such a gift. This will put our kids at two, three, and four years apart, which I think is pretty cool. As to whether this will complete our family, I think probably yes, but maybe check back with us in five years. Ha!

Ida wants a sister but is also content with the prospect of being the extra-special only girl. I asked Theo his preference the other day and after giving it some thought he shrugged and answered, "Either way would be good!" Yep, either way we've got a busy, happy home ready and waiting for this little one.

Baby Lars

Here he is!

He's pretty much been asleep since he was born, so we don't have a good eyes-open picture yet. You can't really tell from this picture but he is blond and has more hair than Ida did, although less hair than Theo did.

I started typing out Lars's birth story and realized I wanted to include way more detail than I feel like writing at the moment. So here is the abbreviated version and I'll write more later. Maybe.

Officially, I started active labor at around 5:30 p.m. on Sunday. Unofficially I woke up at 6 a.m. that day with painful and random contractions that were anywhere from 5 to 20 minutes apart throughout the day. I made it through stake conference and directing the Primary choir and tried to rest afterward. Hannah and Robbie were coming over for dinner and I warned them noncommittally that I had been having irregular contractions but didn't especially expect anything to happen, at least I didn't dare to expect that out loud.

By the time they arrived, the contractions were harder to talk through and getting closer together. By 4:30 they were 10 minutes apart and by 5:30 they were 5 minutes apart. I sat down to dinner with everyone and every 5 minutes went into Ida's room to cope with the contractions. Once we realized this was turning into something, Matt called our doula, Nicole, and we headed upstairs to our room while Hannah and Robbie took care of Theo and Ida.

Over the next couple of hours my contractions became just about unbearable. I needed both Matt and Nicole next to me at all times or I freaked out. Contractions started doubling up and I would have 2, or even 3, minute-long contractions in a row. Nicole, who is also a home-birth midwife as well as a doula, checked my cervix just before we decided to go to the hospital (and I secretly decided to get an epidural) and I was only at a 5. This was very disappointing news to me. Even more disappointing was the fact that my doctor was at a family event in Fredericksburg and no one could get ahold of him. I called my old doctor (who had delivered Ida) just to see if he was on call--he was not. We left a little before 9.

The ride to the hospital was 30 minutes (felt much longer than that) and I could feel the baby moving down with each contraction. We checked into the hospital at 9:30 p.m. and I had progressed from 5 to 9 centimeters during the ride. I wanted to cry and kiss everyone. My doctor arrived right when I started pushing, which, unfortunately, was a much less pleasant experience than it had been with Ida. I remember with Ida's labor that pushing felt great and productive. This time I couldn't find a position that felt right (although--hooray for a doctor who didn't break down the bed, and said I could push however I wanted) and I still didn't get past 9 centimeters even when my water broke on the first real push. But my doctor promised that I could push past the cervical lip anyway, so I went for it. Lars was out in maybe, I don't know, 20 minutes.

You are probably laughing to yourself, "That's the abbreviated version?" Yeah, I have a much longer and more detailed version in my head that maybe I will get around to writing down someday. It includes the fact that the doctor asked Matt, "Do you want to deliver the baby yourself?" and once Lars's head was out, Matt grabbed him by the armpits, pulled him out, and handed him to me himself. That was very cool. I looked and announced, "It's a boy!" and the doctor let the cord stay attached until it stopped pulsing before Matt cut it. It also includes other impressions about the preceding week and my doctor and my doula and the nurses and what it felt like to have "only" 5 hours of hard labor versus "only" 12. I actually think I might take 12 over 5. At least I got more breaks that way.

This picture makes me laugh so hard because it is so, so unflattering. (love the running mascara) This is what childbirth looks like on me. That is the only picture I am remotely willing to post and that should tell you something.

This pregnancy and this labor were unfortunately marked by a lot of fear and anxiety on my part. Although I had had a natural birth before, I didn't feel very confident and I often wondered about what could go wrong. I spent hours and hours deciding on a doula and a doctor. I cried a few times during this labor and wondered whether I could do it. Even when I had 4 people standing next to me telling me the baby would be out in "one more push" I didn't believe any of them. But they were right.

I am so glad that Lars arrived safely and so glad that Theo and Ida love him already--they were so cute with him when they came to visit today. I'm so glad the timing worked out perfectly to have Hannah and Robbie stay with the kids. I'm so glad I have had 2 VBACs. I'm so glad I decided at 35 weeks to switch doctors and hospitals. I'm so glad we hired our wonderful doula. I'm so glad I married Matt. I'm so glad we have been blessed in ways we never could have even anticipated.

Popsicles, popsicles

(sung to the tune of "Bicycle Races" if you wondered.)

Is it weird to do 2 posts in a row about snacks?

It has been HOT HERE. I have been resolving to spend more time outside even on the hottest days, a goal which we have actually been accomplishing with the result of much sweat and some mosquito bites but also tired and flushed kids who sleep well at night. However that means we are ready for a tasty treat when we get home, especially if we have driven somewhere because that's a long ride in the backseat which doesn't have very good air flow. I'm a little nervous about putting a newborn back there actually.

Anyway I bought the multi-pack bulk size of Edy's (or for Westerners, Dreyer's) fruit popsicles last week and they are So. Good. I resisted buying another box today even though our box is almost gone. My favorite is the lemonade flavor...yummmmm.

Speaking of being outside. I am a little depressed because we missed out on going to a beach house this week with the same friends we went with last year. "This really bums me up," to quote Steve Martin. They invited us again but we felt like it was just a little too risky to be away for a week with my due date 1-2 weeks away, and Matt would have been at work for half the week. I got scared when I imagined packing up the car and the kids and driving 3+ hours by myself to the hospital all while in labor. Of course, I ultimately knew, and still know, that the entire week will go by and I will not go into labor and I will try not to think about how we are not at the beach with our friends.

But, that's life. Or as Hannah would say, those are my first-world problems. Narrated to the tune of a teeny-tiny violin. What has been making me feel much better is that Matt is almost done landscaping the backyard, which for such a small yard has been a really big project. (you can congratulate Matt on his awesomeness because he has completed this project while dealing with a compulsively nagging wife for the past month.) Once the sod has settled and I have procured a sandbox and a wading pool and some serious Deet, we will basically live back there, I have decided. And eat popsicles. For my third and final quote of the post: as Theo puts it, "We can make a beach in the backyard." I can't wait. Come on over any time!

Hey. Ya.

Do I need a Scrubs label? Maybe...



I love this song, except that I don't love the Janitor awkwardly lifting Lady at 0:40.

I love Perry Cox. And Bob Kelso. Also, Elliott's a whiner. Her "earnest voice" and "earnest face" are my least favorite things about the show.

Moving on: so I actually meant to post about how we have been living in our house for a year now. Actually a year and a month. Long ago I imagined that I would have some pictures for you by now so that you could see the improvements...minimal though they are...and yet, no pictures. Probably because every room is still lacking something--just something. Living room is lacking a rug. Dining room is lacking a light fixture. Stairwells are lacking paint. Our room is lacking lamps. Bathroom is lacking paint on the dresser (which I will do in the next week). Basement isn't really lacking anything glaring, I just don't have pictures of it because it isn't that exciting. Ida's room is lacking in decor altogether. Yeah, did I mention that? Theo and Ida are in separate rooms now. After 6 months of tired children who would not go to sleep in the same room within 2-3 hours No Matter What We Did, we decided just to separate them. I think we'll put them back together eventually, but for now they are separate. Baby will sleep in our room for a few months and we'll re-evaluate in the fall.

Anyway, so there is my Scrubs/Hey Ya/house update post. I had a ridiculous list of things to get done before the baby comes which will remain unfinished. We did get a lot of things done though. Just not the main floor bathroom... maybe later in the year. And also the backyard is currently a mud pit but I have been promised that it will have grass before June. And also I never cleaned the carpets but hopefully will clean the stair carpets because those are what need it the most. My current goal is to stop caring about any of this because none of it matters. At all.

Oh, and last thing which I find exciting: The baby has dropped! My other babies also dropped about a month or so before they arrived, which makes it a little bit difficult to walk but so much easier to breathe. I am So. So. Excited. to meet this baby in person.

A parallel...if you will.

Five years ago I ran my first and only half marathon. 13.1 miles, that's the farthest I've run at one time. Actually I walked several times throughout and almost the entire 13th mile so I can't even say I ran the whole thing. After I staggered past the finish line I gratefully accepted some water, greeted my family who had all finished long before me, then dry-heaved for about 5 minutes in some bushes. I spent the rest of the day lying down whenever possible.

Running long distances: not really for me. At least, I haven't found the right combination of motivation, desire, and ability. (And I did train for that race...at least I think I did.) I have rarely experienced a runner's high and I definitely didn't in that race. Since then I have never run faster than a 9:00 mile. Usually more like 12:00. So I would rather not completely torture myself in a marathon basically just to say I had.

I have been at the finish line of lots of races, mostly my dad's marathons. That is an electric experience. My dad, who is 66, decided in his late 50s to start running marathons and hasn't stopped. I just can't identify with that kind of drive, but I get excited for my dad every time he completes one, especially when he beats his own PRs and feels great afterward. Anyone who crosses a marathon finish line has put in some serious work and is likely pretty proud of himself or herself.

I think many of my fellow spectators feel the same way I do: I think I'll just do my own thing and not lose my toenails or my lunch, but hey man, keep it up if that's what gets you out of bed in the morning. And I think that while runners are pretty excited about their own accomplishments, most of them don't look down on the spectators who are not interested in crossing that particular line. Although a few probably do.

I find a parallel here:

OK, so when I saw this I totally laughed out loud. Because, first of all the Onion is generally pretty funny and secondly there is a contingent of moms out there who are quite vocal--sometimes even superior--about their crunchiness and I know that can grate. I personally don't mind if granola types get vocal because it doesn't affect me, and I even admire them for their convictions because I have my own convictions too, some (not all) of which are lumped in with theirs.

Besides, I'm cool with my vaccinations and plastic toys and red dye #40. I don't think that natural birth, any more than shopping at Whole Foods versus Shoppers or co-sleeping versus using a crib, makes a person morally or otherwise superior to someone who uses an epidural or has a C-section. But, having tried the natural, the epidural, and the C-section, all of which involved pain, I preferred one experience to the others.

Despite my almost nonexistent race record, I kind of feel a little bit of empathy for the runner who keeps on doing something that others think is crazy. The main difference being that there aren't many people heckling runners or accusing them of feeling morally superior for their choices.

But childbirth and motherhood are so charged with other emotions, I think that's why people can get up in arms about it, sometimes to the point of unveiled scorn for women who have--or want to have--their babies with midwives at home or otherwise without drugs. When I was pregnant with Theo and told my OB I wanted to try natural childbirth he responded, "There's no need to be a hero." I wish I had asked him, "Why do you care about my reasons or if I want to be a hero or not?" He also told me after my C-section that "vaginal births are overrated" and it didn't occur to me at the time that the veracity of that statement was biologically unverifiable coming from a man. (or even from a woman who hadn't tried both C-section and vaginal, if it's a matter of comparing the two.)

The partner OB's response to me was, "When you come begging for an epidural I'm going to say I told you so." And after I got my epidural...well...she made good on that. Ouch.

I sometimes sense a similarly contemptuous attitude from faceless moms online. I hope if they knew me in real life they wouldn't lump me into the Thinks She's Morally Superior category. Well I guess if they did there's nothing I could do about it and it doesn't especially affect me other than casting a general pall on public opinion of natural childbirth and homebirth, which I find unfortunate.

So to my point: the only thing that I and my 12:00 splits really do have in common with a runner is that although I am happy with my personal approaches both to birth and to running, I know that neither approach makes me better or worse than anyone else. The motivation for anyone to continue through a (needlessly? pointlessly?) painful journey may include a feeling of victory, of checking off items on a list, who knows, maybe even a hint of superiority. But I think that most keep going back for more mainly because in a weird way, despite the pain, it also somehow feels good, not so much to say to others, "I have done it" but, in fact, to do it. And that has nothing to do with anyone else.

Seven months

"That's seven months. Uh-oh, hello, five months! Five months, not much." Sorry, please excuse my inability to resist Martin Short quotes.

My talented friend Alisha offered to take pictures of me while great with child. I don't have very many pictures of myself while pregnant--most notably I do have a few frightening shots of when I was in labor with Theo and my belly was so large and box-shaped that the nurse said, "Wow, you have to take a picture of that." These, though, are treasures. Thank you, Alisha!

Now Katie can make her guess whether it's a boy or girl. It's pretty much a tie at our house--the boys think girl and the girls think boy. Sometimes I think girl too, though. I can't decide. I guess we'll find out soon enough!

My bizness, my biznass.

The past two weeks have been busy!

I don't mean that as a complaint. I drop into bed at night exhausted and that is a good feeling. I'm not busier than anyone else, but a lot of new things have happened lately and we are all adjusting to new routines. In other good news, since it's almost April I am unofficially 7 months pregnant. So glad I no longer have to tell people I have 3 months left. My monthly list of "nesting goals" is kind of out the window, but that's not surprising. We have gotten a few things done.

I have in fact tried to stay busy to fight off the blues because the lazy approach was not cutting it. You've heard of the post-partum blues; well for the first time, I have been experiencing the pre-partum blues. I didn't even know that was a thing, but it is. Helps explain pretty much everything, particularly the teariness which was starting to get ridiculous. Please don't be weirded out if you see me in the grocery store and I suddenly start crying because Edy's rocky road is 2 for $5.

Mood swings, anxiety, contractions, sleepless nights--after a few months of this kind of stuff it finally dawned on Matt and me that there might be a problem. I became worried that if I didn't somehow fix this immediately then I would be dealing with post-partum blues in a major way. Obviously time will tell about that but I feel optimistic. Luckily I have a lot of resources to deal with it, including my doctor and doula. Staying busy and active and connected with people, while also making sure to rest a little each day, is a big component of that too. I feel overwhelmed, but not alone. We see friends and neighbors regularly. Rocky road ice cream and Scrubs reruns are also quite helpful.

I also occasionally have really, really good days, like the kind where if you saw me you might wonder what drug I was on. "Roller-coaster" (pirate ride, anyone?) is pretty much the perfect way to describe me right now.

Fortunately my kids have been amazing. I mean, it's not like they're wiping their own bums or fixing dinner or anything, but they have really been great. They play together as beautifully as you could expect from kids their age. They fight almost as much as they laugh, but lately for my own sanity I have adopted the policy of letting them duke it out themselves as long as no one is crying or hitting, and the majority of the time they work it out on their own. Also, they are super snuggly, especially Ida, which is pretty much always exactly what I need, and apparently what we all need. Theo's latest thing is that he learned about the baby's kicks and he LOVES it. The look of joy on Theo's face the first time he felt this baby kick is going into the archives of Best Motherhood Moments Ever.

I have ups and downs all day, and when I collapse into bed at night I am exhausted and sometimes overwhelmed. But I feel that way whether I spent the day on the couch or running around taking care of bizness. So ultimately after a busy day, I am also happy. That could have a little bit to do with the irreplaceable guy collapsing next to me. Or a lot. I think most guys, including Matt, don't have any idea what they're in for when they get married but Matt is totally up to the challenge.

Finally, I was thinking lately of a couple of quotes I have posted before on this blog. Keats said that "Beauty is truth, truth beauty." A few beautiful truths have been helping me immensely.

"Don't confuse giving yourself 100 percent with losing yourself. . . . Don't think for a minute that you're circling in a holding pattern and that one day, when the children are older, you'll land and get on with your life. This is life." - Gail Blanke

"I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live." - George Bernard Shaw

"In general you noble sisters are doing a much better job of holding it all together and making it work than you realize. May I suggest that you take your challenges one day at a time. Do the best you can. Look at everything through the lens of eternity. If you will do this, life will take on a different perspective." - James E. Faust

"I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly." - John 10:10

Spring is still here.

Just a little somethin' for Monday.

Ummm...I have absolutely nothing to post about, at least nothing that I can put into coherent words.

So here is a blurry photo of us looking kind of glassy-eyed at a basketball game on MLK Day. Our friends invited us to share a box with them when the Wizards played the Jazz. On a scale from 1 to 10 I have about a level 2 interest in either the Jazz or the Wizards. But, it was really fun to spend the day with friends and family and also to eat hot dogs, popcorn, and candy for lunch. Less fun to get my heart to stop pounding when Theo stood up on the guardrail.

Oh and the arena wasn't really that empty....this was after the game ended.

Also now that it's basically March I am considering myself 6 months pregnant and hosting a very lively and active and rapidly growing baby whom Theo and Ida talk to regularly. "Hi baby, it's me Theo, your big brother!" "And I'm Ida, and I'm your sister!" (If you know Ida, you know it's more like "I'm yo sisto!") Yeah, I kind of love it.

I am also quite enjoying the fact that according to this photo I apparently hardly looked pregnant a month ago. I have since, shall we say...blossomed. Now, when strangers ask me when I am due, I am tempted to say "Any day now!" so that I don't get the "REALLY?" type questions that I got with Ida. (e.g., "Really?...Are you having twins?") Actually I have not gotten those questions this time. Which is ironic since I learned recently that now, at 6 months, I weigh what I did right before Ida was born. NBD.

When they're parking their cars on your chest, you've still got a view of the summer sky.

I finally loaded all my January pictures but can't edit them until I put some software on here that works. A lot of the best ones are vertical and therefore currently sideways...I'll get them on here eventually. I love this picture because it shows just how much Ida liked being out in a foot of snow. She was cold and couldn't walk. I don't blame the girl for pouting. Fortunately she sat there long enough for me to salvage what I could of this tree.

I think you can probably tell which tree lost the battle with the snow after this particular storm. They were both surprisingly resilient though although one took it harder than the other. Before I shook the snow off, the branches of both trees were so weighed down you could see pretty much the entire window.

New topic. So I haven't been feeling the best lately. I was having a particularly crappy day when a friend came over because she needed help. Not surprisingly, it was just what I needed. Second thing I needed was to swim a few hundred meters this morning which finally killed the beastly migraine I couldn't shake.

Third thing I needed was to wake up this morning to my kids' huge smiles right in my face. Ida: "I had a good REST? I came UPSTAIRS? I need a new DIAPER and some BREAKFAST?"

Life is good, and it's cold but the sky is blue and all that snow is almost gone. Please--don't come back! Migraines are not welcome either, but friends are.

P.S.

Lucky shirt #3

So I put on my lucky shirt today and went to our 2o-week ultrasound. Although once again it took forever to see a few key things (the baby was asleep, curled in a ball with arms over its face)--including a few long waits while the doctor looked over everything--the tech did eventually see everything she needed to see and all is well. I was especially glad to see that the placenta is right where it should be, placenta issues being more common after C/S.

This was my first ultrasound of this pregnancy, so it was our first real look at the baby...amazing. This pregnancy I have kind of slacked in a few "checklist" areas. I still haven't had any blood work done, which I need to do this week. Not for lack of trying, actually, but every time I have tried to go to the lab I haven't even been able to find parking. Apparently afternoons are better than mornings so I'll try that this time. Probably should make an appointment too. Still trying to pinpoint a cause of my tachycardia (which came back despite my efforts to chill out) and Dr. Tchabo presented a few options. I am a little concerned, but for once not anxious. Anemia is probably part of the problem and I am trying to get more iron in my diet. No small feat for someone like me who normally eats red meat a few times a year. Shocker that I am anemic.

I'll figure out a little more of that this week and I'm trying not to worry about it at the moment...just enjoying the silence as Ida naps and Theo plays with Playmobil, AKA the best invention for 4-year-olds, ever.

Theo and Ida were both a little confused at the prospect of seeing "a picture of the baby." It developed on the car ride there, once Theo asked where we would put the baby's carseat, that they were both pretty sure we were taking the baby home with us today. "And putting him in his high chair to eat lunch." The concept of "months" as a unit of time makes no sense to them. We are so thankful that everything looks good and we should be welcoming a healthy and strong little guy or girl in just a few months. (or according to Theo, "in about 15 minutes.")

If you try sometimes you just might find... you get what you need.

Photo chosen not for topical relevance but because a 2-year-old shoveling snow is funny.

I was thinking that I always feel like I have to wait until I am in a great mood in order to write a blog post. Or you know, maybe after some sort of trial has just ended, just in time for me to feel philosophical about it (because you know I always do) and tie it up in a nice bow--a cutesy one with double loops and wired edge ribbon. Plus if I am cranky, or tired, or going through something difficult, then maybe I won't love the end result of the post 24 hours later when I snap out of it. This is not exactly my diary, even though it feels like it is, and once I put something out there I can't take it back.

But oh well. I have been pretty moody lately. Let me rewind. In October I noticed that occasionally my heart would race. Not for long, really only for a few seconds at a time. Matt and I were surprised because I have always had amazingly low blood pressure, thanks to my "big old cow heart" in Matt's words. (Really my heart is normal sized but the low BP is genetic.) So for these "tachycardic episodes" I blamed the iron supplements I was taking for my anemia and stopped them. It got a little better, then worse, so I blamed the anemia and started taking the iron again.

In early December right as morning sickness was subsiding, I contracted a particularly awful brand of food poisoning, on the exact same day that our heater broke on the first day of a cold snap, and so over the course of 2 weeks I thought I might lose my mind, and at very brief moments that my heart might jump through my chest. It reached a grand climax a couple of weeks before Christmas that involved me sobbing to Matt on my basement futon late one night after a nurse told me over the phone that I needed to go to the emergency room. I sobbed so hard that I started laughing in cathartic relief once I heard myself.

Skeptical of the nurse, I talked with my doctor at length about it a few minutes later. I received a diagnosis that finally made perfect sense: anxiety. Pending thyroid tests but anxiety is likely. The antidote for which being: chill out. Of course, said anxiety being fueled in part by hormones turns chilling out into a major challenge.

Now it is early January and the tachycardia is almost completely gone. I seem to have succeeded in chilling out at some level. I feel like after 3 months I can finally say as an absolute fact--YES. I Am Feeling Much Better.

So on to one of many causes of my early pregnancy anxiety. People always seem surprised that VBAC is still an issue once you have had one. I guess maybe for some people it isn't, but for me it is. First of all as much as I love my doctor he is now in a group practice with 3 other doctors and is insanely busy besides. Secondly, my last pregnancy I really wanted a VBAC but also thought I just might not be physically able to do it in which case I would accept my fate. Now that I have proven to myself that I can, the thought of being on an operating table grips me with a cold fear that could send even my big old cow heart into a dither. Could and apparently does.

Every time I think about the unforeseen effects of C-section on subsequent pregnancies for so many women I know, I get upset. Then eventually the Rolling Stones come into my head. Because well, you know...you can't always get what you want. Also I'll never be your beast of burden but that is less relevant.

Sure I've been moody and teary and weak at times as different issues have cropped up. Maybe I am being a little bit cavalier about it at the moment in an attempt to save a few shreds of dignity...but through the various spoken and unspoken trials of the past few months there have been specific times when I have really felt lifted and carried through them. Sometimes by specific people and sometimes not. An amazing feeling I had not felt before. I don't think I would have felt that kind of love without the preceding despair. My life is so good and so full of love. So I can't complain. At all.

Also, as one final note, if you ever need cheering up please let me know and I will have Ida sing to you: "Harp the herald angels sing, glory to babboo-born King."