Birth Story #2

About oh...ten months after Zac's birth, I finally convinced my sweet husband that I wanted to have another child, that I wasn't crazy, and that I thought things would be OK. It took a lot of prodding and pleading, but finally, after Zac's first birthday, we found ourselves expecting Chayce. She is only 22 months younger than him, and I suppose we can attribute that closeness in age to the fact that I thought it would take longer for me to get pregnant.

She was due August 5th, but on the weekend of July 24th, while partying it up with the pioneer day celebrations in Utah, I started to feel contractions. I didn't know that is what they were, because...well...I had never had a contraction before.

Oh..oh...let me back up. During the 10 months of gestation (oh, and I'd like to talk to the fella who said 9 months. 9 months does not 40 weeks make, my friend!) I did a lot of research on VBACs (vaginal birth after cesarean) and found a wonderful doctor in Logan, who had just moved there from California. I was very impressed with his record of having no lawsuits against him, given he was practicing in the most litigious county in the USA (or world, more likely), so I trusted him. He was very excited to help me out.

So, back to July, a week of contractions...but not bad ones. Nothing to scream about (ha ha).

On August 1st, in the early morning, I was woken by my contractions. YAY! I thought. I paced much of the evening, as my doctor had told me not to come in too soon, as laboring at home would keep me relaxed and increase my odds of a successful VBAC. I went in that afternoon, sure I was close, and found that I was at...a one. Ug. I went home, laid down, sort of slept, and paced more. I walked around the block, dug my nails into my husband's arm (sorry honey!) and was sure I was making progress. On the 2nd of August, I went back in to be checked, because Stephen was sure after the way I'd grabbed his arm, I had to be pretty far along...so, I went in, and by that afternoon I'd made it to...a two. Oh, this was slow going. My doctor was amazed that my contractions were as constant as they were (I'd been on the monitor) but such little progress was occurring. I went back home. I stayed there until I was in tears. I couldn't take more, I wanted to rest, and even though I had planned on a completely natural birth, I wanted something to ease the pain. I got to the hospital (again, ug). This time I'd made it to a five! Aack! Finally, they admitted me, and let me have an epidural. Getting the epidural was the biggest mistake I'd ever made, and I would like to strangle the nurse that told me that getting an epidural is better than yelling during pushing. Whatever. I hope she doesn't work there anymore, but she probably does.

My epidural only worked down one side. One leg numb. One half of my abdomen. I could still feel contractions on half of my body, and really felt it when my doctor broke my water. I wasn't allowed to get up and walk due to my numb leg, so I couldn't even move through my contractions. I was not happy, or relaxed. I wished I'd stayed home a little longer. Of course, then I realized that the control to the epidural was right next to me, and so I turned it off. I sat back, tried to relax (ha ha ha) until the numbness on my right side wore off. A little while later, I realized that as I had toughed it out one-sided my daughter was arriving. She didn't have far to go, so I paged the nurse.

She came in to see what the matter was, and I explained to her that I could feel my daughter was close to crowning. She didn't believe me. In fact, she said, "You have an epidural, you wouldn't be able to feel the baby." I retorted that I had turned it off, and that she'd better check me NOW. So, she grumpily obliged, took a peek, and viola! "Oh!" says She, "You've only got about 2 inches to go!" (Meaning, one or two pushes and that baby would be here. Duh.)

So, she called in my doctor while I continued to sit there. For some reason, the contractions really were doing most of the work, and while I felt the baby progressing, I didn't feel the urge to push. Finally, when the doctor came (he wasn't far away, as this was a VBAC), I gave a push and there she was! Yay!

Chayce Elizabeth, born 7 lbs, 7 oz. Two and a half pounds bigger than her older brother had been. Whew! I do remember, though, talking to another nurse, and asking her why I was in pain. See, I'd been told that a VBAC would heal faster. It did. 4 days vs. 6 weeks. However, I think I was hoping it'd be over as soon as it was over. Sigh.

Chayce, about an hour after being born.


Chayce, today.

Reasons I love Snow

Ok. I need to be honest. I'm writing this to convince myself that I'm happy that spring isn't here yet. That I'm not looking at the calendar wishing it were March...a warm March. First, a little song to get us in the mood, the kids were singing it this morning:

1. It is easier to get a lot of homeschooling done, because all we want to do is sit inside and read anyway.
2. My compost pile looks great after a winter, it's perfect to grow in the next spring.
3. I learn to appreciate the warmth of spring.
4. If winter is coming, fall is here, and fall is my favorite season.
5. Christmas just doesn't feel right when it's not white.
6. Snowflakes are pretty.
7. My flowering bulbs need to get cold before they will bloom again (and though I realize I can do that in my freezer, it's easier for it to snow than for me to dig them all up and replant.)
8. My husband is more likely to work from home, because riding a bike in the snow is not easy, but alas, he still does it. Notice I just said more likely, it doesn't happen that much.
9. A reason to put my pretty quilts on the bed.
10. This happens while reading stories to the kids:

Emotional Porn?

Wow, those are some tough words, but the exact words used by this Christian group when reviewing the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer. Full disclosure, I am LDS--so is Stephanie. I've never read her books, the idea just never interested me. However, since I am fully ingrained in the Christian homeschool groups, I thought I'd share some of what I hear about what this "Mormon" is doing to good Christian girls. The ideas circulating are interesting, to say the least, but I would also say they are quite a bit damaging to missionary work. Here's one (and only one, but I've read others and been present for conversations like this one) article that pretty much summed up what I've been hearing:
http://visionarydaughters.com/2009/11/how-twilight-is-re-vamping-romance

I don't take sides during these conversations, because, as I said, I haven't read them, I just think it's important for those who read my blog, who promote Twilight, to know what is being said.

Birth Stories #1

I told myself that one of my goals for the year would be to actually WRITE DOWN the birth stories of my children--not that I'd ever forget them, but so they had them someday. Since we plan on printing this blog (edited, of course) someday when we have the funds, I thought I'd put it here. I'm going to do it in three separate posts, but you don't have to read any further than the disclaimer of : WARNING, BIRTH STORY. ha ha.

Zachary's Entrance Into the World--as I saw it.
I give it that title, because there were parts I don't know about or remember, that Stephen might, and he might add but this is what I know happened. You'll see...

It was a school day, Friday, I was finishing my senior year of college. I had a check-up...we were at 37 weeks, and it was mid-terms. I knew if I could just finish my tests before delivery, all would be well. I got to my appointment feeling a little weird, kind of tired, but thought that was normal for pregnancy, it was my first after all. The nurse came in and did the usual weight check, BP check, urine check...I was ready to go--I thought. I had no questions, I wanted to get back to studying. My doctor came in and informed me that my blood pressure had gone very high, into the pre-eclampsia range (140's I believe over I don't remember what...it's been six years). I laughed it off...not me, I'd be fine, I felt fine...

She ordered a stress test over at labor and delivery, so over I went (with a friend, I told Stephen to go to class because it wasn't a big deal and I'd be home soon). They said the baby seemed OK, but wasn't moving as much as they'd like. I was sent home to be on bed rest, while counting baby movements. I was told to come back the next day for another stress test, and if I tested well, I could get off of bedrest and back to normal life. Whew! Yay!

Saturday morning, I got up, got dressed, and called the hospital and ordered my test,they said I could come right over, as they had open rooms right then. My parents called me soon after and said they were coming to visit me and they were half-way there. It was a nine-hour drive for them, and so I said I was glad to be able to see them, but hoped they weren't coming out of worry, I was fine!

I got the hospital and they took my BP, I peed in a cup, and they hooked me up to the baby stress test machine. I tried to stay very relaxed so my pressure would show up low, as I was sure that school anxiety had caused the rise the day before. I was, after all, a senior business student with papers that needed writing.

The nurse looked concerned and called my doctor. She came in just to see me! Why did this NOT clue me in that I was not OK? I don't know, but it didn't. She looked at me and said that my test results indicated I was close to full eclampsia and needed to deliver, NOW. She looked at Stephen and said she'd wait to start the induction until he got my things from home. I asked if I could go help, since I hadn't really packed stuff together yet, thinking I had three (or more) weeks to go, but she wouldn't let me leave the hospital. Turns out she knew what she was talking about...

They asked me how I wanted to be induced, and I chose Cervadil to see if that would get things going, rather than going onto pitocin. It began working very slowly. By about 8 PM (ug, I'd been there ALL day) they said they'd try an IV and give me a little pitocin. I was very insistent that I didn't want pain killers and that once labor had started I wanted to go as naturally as possible, since my goal had been a completely natural birth, and they were already messing with my plans more than I liked. I was very naive. Looking at my medical records and thinking of the things I said, I can't imagine what was going through those nurses' heads about my stubbornness, and the health of my baby.

My old room mate stopped by, and brought a bunch of movies. We really thought everything was going well...

My parents finally made it, we chatted, they left to go to a hotel and get some food. Thank heaven they left a number to be reached at...I heard through the grapevine that the nurse called them during the events below and wouldn't tell them what was going on, just that they'd better come back.

During the inserting of the IV, I started to feel very nauseous...

Blank spot...for I don't know how long, we'll have to ask Stephen...

When I came to, I was looking at my husband's face. The nurse had left and the ER (yes, ER, not OR, he'd been rushed up) surgeon was standing in the room. Stephen was telling me I wasn't allowed to close my eyes again and the nurses around kept coaching him to keep me awake. The ER doc was looking at my chart (turns out he used to be an OB) and as my doctor walked in he asked her why they hadn't taken the baby out yet. She'd never faced full on eclampsia, which it turns out I had. He told them to get into scrubs and get the baby out, right then. I remember hearing all of this, but not being able to talk. I was just very tired, on the verge of passing out again, not caring if I fell asleep, but also not wanting a c-section. I remember crying, saying I didn't want the c-section and that I wouldn't sign the papers. Stephen said I didn't say anything, and that he signed the papers. I remember watching him sign, but I was too weak to move.

As they wheeled me into the OR, I started to fight. I really felt like they were out to get me. As I look back on it now, I was probably in hysterics, but I really fought. The nurse tried to put a catheter in and I kicked her. I didn't want it, I didn't want the epidural, I didn't want the c-section. I wanted out of the hospital RIGHT NOW. I just remember fighting, kicking yelling, and hating. I could hear voices. One was the doctor reprimanding a nurse for not letting Stephen follow me, and then yelling to let him by my side ASAP, so he could be with me if I...
I didn't get to hear the rest because another doctor told the anesthesiologist to forgo the epidural and knock me out completely, as fast as he could, there was a poke in my hand and then BLANK.

When I came to, I was in a lot of pain. Turns out Zac's heart rate had plummeted and they didn't take their time with my incision. Hip to hip. Crazy. They wouldn't give me any pain killers until I would talk to them, tell them who I was and such. I kept asking about my baby, finally I answered them to appease them, and asked them where I was (besides the hospital, I knew that much). They answered that I was in the ICU, and would be there for awhile. I was on magnesium to treat the eclamptic seizure I'd had. My baby had recovered fully after being removed from my body. Turns out we were bad for each other. Stephen came in, and I got to see a photo of my baby boy. Then my parents came in. I was still in a lot of pain, but they finally gave me some morphine and jello. I don't remember any other conversations, but I do remember them finally bringing little Zac to lay by me. I couldn't really hold him without help because I was very weak. He was only 4 lbs. 15.5 oz (we teased the nurse that she should have put her pinky on the scale to at least bump his number up to five pounds). He was developed fully, no health problems, just small. Doctors speculate that since full on eclampsia is when the mother convulses and the placenta pulls away from the uterus (usually killing both parties involved), that the pulling away was starting earlier, which is why he hadn't gained but was developed.
I wish I could say that recovery was smooth sailing, but it wasn't. I stayed in the hospital for about five days. A lot of crying went on, as I was very upset about how Zac entered the world. I did finish school that year, though friends who knew me (and still talk to me!) say I was mean and hard to be around. I'm pretty sure, looking back on it, that I had PTSD for about a year. Though, I'd like to brag that even through all that, and missing 5 WEEKS of school, I still graduated only three points short of honors. But, I let myself get B's in five of my classes that year. It was a conscious decision to sleep more than study.

Me, trying to be happy in the ICU. Still very swollen from my ordeal. My facial swelling went down the next day. Look how nice they were--they stuck a towel in my collar and under my food so there wouldn't be spills.

The photo I saw of Zac, before I got to hold him.

Zachary, today. You were so worth it, babe!

The Trivium

Ah, finally, I found a good description of the theory we follow for schooling our kids, already typed up. I was going to type it, but these guys did a great job, so why re-invent the wheel?
http://www.triviumpursuit.com/articles/the_trivium_in_a_capsule.php

If I only had a...

Poor little Payge. She's been a little confused as to how the whole bathroom thing works. She wants to be trained, and she's been trying on her own to show me that she wants to be big like the other kids. However, I could tell she isn't quite ready when I walked into the bathroom today and saw her with her shirt pulled up, grabbing her belly button with both hands and leaning over the edge of the toilet...trying so hard to "pee" standing up via her button. She was really giving it her all, squeezing her tummy with those tiny hands. I just backed out so she wouldn't know I saw her, then she flushed, and came out of the bathroom looking a little triumphant--or maybe flustered. I can only imagine what she was thinking.

Leaving me wondering...

Should I be worried? I'm sitting here typing and my son is in the bathroom. I don't know what he is doing, but I do know that he is singing, "Costs a quarter to smell it!" over and over again. Smell what? I wonder. Then he says to the baby, "Hey babies get to smell for free!" as he comes out of the bathroom. I'm still sitting here, listening quietly.

I got the answer a few minutes later. He was carrying around the lemon-grass container. So, rather than be worried that I have a normal boy on my hands (which is a good thing), I'll wonder what other types of sales schemes my capitalist-by-nature (oooh, or would that be nurture, given his mother's profession when I'm not mothering?) son has going on in his head.

He reminds me very much of my older brother who used to go buy large amounts of penny candy with his allowance and then sell it at school for 5 cents a piece when we had a closed campus middle school. This similarity is a good thing, since my brother is amazing and has done well for himself, taking care of his family and all.