Happy birthday, Charlie

Baby girl, I'm sorry it's late, but you know how busy Mama has been. You know how busy, because, of course, you watch me and you help me. I hope that I'm teaching you great things and that someday you'll use them to mother your own baby girls and boys. And I want you to know that I couldn't do this without you. So thank you for making me a mother, six years (and five days) ago.
Happy birthday, my sweet, spunky, over-cautious but so astute and beautiful, lanky, blonde, mothering cutie pie.

Birth story

I think I’d mentioned that I had about 3 weeks of on-again-off-again labor, right? And also that I was about 42 weeks pregnant by the time my baby arrived? The plan was to break my water on the evening of July 13 to try to get things started, which was not ideal, and I had a really hard time making that decision. I was nervous to do so, since once we did it, I’d pretty much be on the clock to have this baby. So the night that I actually went into labor—the kind of labor that produces a baby—it really is no wonder that Paul didn’t believe me and told me several times to leave him alone and go to sleep. Seriously, I can’t blame him. But boy was I mad at him then. We had watched a movie (I wish I could remember which one), during which I was ignoring contractions. Sort of reverse psychology with myself. Anyway, once the movie was over and we were trying to go to sleep, I just couldn’t ignore the pain anymore, and I asked Paul to time the contractions for me, as I wear contacts during the day and glasses at night, so in order to see the clock across the room, I have to put my glasses on, and it just didn’t make sense to me to do that every four minutes. EVERY FOUR MINUTES??? Contractions are really coming every four minutes? Geeze, I had no idea that I’d so successfully started labor by ignoring contractions!

12:00 AM So, Paul was timing these for me and then nearly falling asleep between contractions, and so every time I had another one and then had to wake him up, yes, he was getting a bit annoyed with me. At one point I said something like, “Paul, you need to STEP UP. I’m in labor here.” Then I asked him to please call my midwife and get things going. I think he still didn’t believe me even at this point, but whatever. He made the call and the birth team started on their way. Then I got out of bed and started a bath for myself, and Paul finally realized that this was the real deal. Then he totally did “step up.”

1:00-1:30 AM My wonderful midwife (this was her third time with us) showed up and seemed to be pleased that I appeared to actually be in labor this time. She sat in the bathroom with me while I labored in the tub by candlelight. It was so peaceful, and I was so glad to be laboring at night while the kids slept. I stayed in the water for as long as I was comfortable and then got out and labored in the bedroom, switching often between the bed and the floor. I really wanted my body to be stretched out, even standing, but I felt too weak to hold this pose for very long. I had thrown up several times and was so tired that I had to be very careful not to lose my strength.

2:30 AM The pain was so intense. I think this was my most intense labor ever, probably because it was so quick. I felt like I could just not get on top of things. At this point, I realized (as a woman must do at some point during labor) that I needed to let go. Labor is this incredible experience where three very strong forces—the woman’s body, the woman herself, and the baby—are in action and need to be cooperating in order to bring about good results. In order to have a successful labor, the woman must give in. She must surrender to labor. It’s so hard, because she feels like her body is trying to destroy her. It’s so difficult to feel those waves rising around and to just surrender to them, almost feeling like they’re going to consume and drown you. But once the laboring woman gives in to the experience, the intensity, it’s almost like her body invites her back in for a little more of the control. It’s so hard to explain. Once you give up control, you get a little of it back, and then all three forces are synchronized. The body squeezes another “God-help-me” contraction and the baby moves down into the birth canal, and then mama feels that urge to puuuuushshshsh, then hold that baby right where she is to wait for her body to start the next play. It’s an unbelievable well-oiled machine, a beautiful and perfect picture of nature at her best.

3:00 AM At this time, I first felt the urge to push. I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I was. I knew we were near the end. I kept shaking my head and crying, “Come on, baby, come on out. We want to meet you.” Shortly after first feeling the urge, I tried to stand up. I could feel my baby sliding ever lower, and the sensation was just so intense. I then asked Paul to sit on the stool that we’d brought into the room so that I could sit on his lap, facing the same direction and sort of creating a birthing stool with his legs. It’s the position that we used to birth Judah, and it worked very well then, as he was born after only a couple of pushes once I sat on Paul’s lap. This time was taking a little longer than Judah’s birth did, and poor Paul had to endure sitting under a laboring woman for way too long. What a trooper. We made a great team, and it was awesome for me to have his support, both emotional and actual physical support. Each contraction produced bigger and stronger pushes, and the entire birthing team assured me that it would not be long at all until I held my baby. I started to then touch her head as she crowned, or actually the bag of waters, as the sack didn’t break until about a minute before she was born. I had to hold her head there through three contractions in order to ease her out, so as not to tear. That was agonizing but necessary and very much worth it!

3:35 My water broke, and with the next contraction, out came baby’s head. I got my hands down there, ready to catch the rest of her. Just a minute later, out slithered her little body. I caught her myself and wrapped her up in my arms, which means that I was the first one to see whether baby was a boy or a girl. The light was so dim that I didn’t believe it—“It’s a GIIIIIRRRRLLLLL!!!” Not that I would have minded a boy, but I was so surprised and happy to have another girl.

Just a little while later, Paul brought the kids in to meet their new baby sister. What a strange experience it must have been to go to bed one night and then wake up with a new sibling. Judah wasn’t very interested until the next day, but Charlie was having a blast studying the baby, holding her, and hanging out with the birthing team. Among all the many reasons, this is probably my favorite reason for having a home birth—being all together in our own home for the entire experience and having that immediate bonding time.

Well, that’s about it. We had a pretty short babymoon, considering we moved two and a half weeks later and Paul had to work his last week on Capitol Hill! But she has nursed like a champ from the very beginning and is already sleeping through most nights. So for me, the transition from 2 to 3 has been a bit easier than from 1 to 2.

Just for you, I’m posting some pics from Baby Penny’s baptism which took place in our home parish in Virginia before we left, while she was only days old. It was so special to have her baptized by the same priest that baptized me into the Church just months earlier, and, in fact, with the same godmother.

In my spare time

I was talking with a customer today (a customer of my sewing business, that is--she needs a nap mat for her little pre-schooler) about the specifics for her purchase. Once we had decided on the fabric and the other particulars, she thanked me for making this custom item for her. I told her how happy I am to do it, as it is a pretty fun project for me. I really love making things for kids and babies. She laughed and said, "I wish I had time for projects!" I would have laughed along with her, had this not felt like such an isult. Who does she think she is implying that I'm just sitting around all day waiting for people to call me with sewing projects??? Doesn't she know I have three kids at home, two of whom I'm homeschooling and one of whom is an exclusively breastfed newborn? I also somehow manage to maintain a home, without a dishwasher, mind you. If I'm working on a sewing project, I promise it's not because I have nothing else to do!
And while everything I just said is actually true, I'm only joking about the "insult" part. Okay, maybe I am truly a little bit insulted, but that's just my pride. There's no reason at all to feel this way. No REAL reason. We're all given the same number of hours in a day, and we all choose how to use them. While sometimes I feel like I can't even go to the bathroom without the explicit permission from at least four people, deep down I am happy about how my hours are spent.
That said, I have been EXTREMELY busy since Penelope was born almost two months ago. Since giving birth, we have packed up our life and moved two states away, Paul has started a new job, and Charlie has started first grade in homeschool. Judah started potty training, and then I thought I was going to lose my mind. I realized he wasn't ready, and we have set that on the back burner for a bit.
I, with the help of Paul's family, also organized a surprise party for Paul's 40th birthday. It totally went off without a hitch, and he would have been completely surprised, had not Judah opened the door just before Paul walked in. It would have been fine at that point, had not Paul's dad whisked Judah from the doorstep and shut the door on Paul. And Paul might still have not suspected anything,  had not someone instantly closed the blinds. Oh, no, nothing going on here! Anyway, Paul knew what he was walking into, but it was still a great party. I became a bit emotional at one point, remembering life without kids at all, and somehow now there are all these little ones running around at these family gatherings. Life is so, so much fuller these days.
And how did all this happen? One day I'm going out with my boss's brother, a few months later I realize that I don't want to live without him. One day we're married, one day we start a family. Day by day we make our choices. The little choices add up to become bigger decisions, and somehow we're a family of seven (five of us here in this life, and two already on the other side). So many huge things in such a seemingly short time.
We've left the life in the big city and are closer to the life that we want in the country. I am loving being back in South Carolina. While I miss my old neighborhood and, of course, my precious friends, things are feeling familiar to me here. We're getting settled into our little brick country house on two acres of grass and woods. Paul even has a riding lawn mower. Yep, he's gone country. :) We buy raw milk from the dairy farmer down the street, and we're looking into an organic CSA from Mini Miracles Farm.
I see at least one extended family member ever day. It's just wonderful. The kids have nearly daily access to all of their grandparents and nearly all of their cousins, aunts, and uncles. I'm so happy that they will grow up this way.
I am sorry to say that I am going to have to be signing off here. It's almost my bedtime, and I suppose I should get back to my sewing "projects." :) I will be taking photos and also posting them in the near future. Until then, feel free to visit my friend Joy's blog and take a look at the photos she posted from her trip here last weekend.
One more thing before I go: I absolutely covet your prayers right now for my sister Stephanie. She has just today been put on the list for a heart-liver transplant. Her story is long, but basically she was born with congenital heart disease and has had multiple operations during her life, the last of which was January, 2010. She is now in pre-liver failure and needs both a heart and liver. She needs our prayers for her daily peace, energy, and ability to care for her two young chldren and husband. I would also ask for your prayers regarding the mixed emotions that she must be experiencing surrounding needing new organs from a donor. Please pray that her faith would not be shaken. I ask for your prayers for all of us who love her, that we would seek God and his love through this difficult time.
The peace of Christ be with you all tonight. I will write again as soon as I can find just a few minutes.

My lovely

I mentioned in an earlier post that I'd become the subject of a photography student's project on homebirth. After my friend Ashley finished her project, she came back to our home to do an absolutely breathtaking newborn photo session of our little Penelope Joy. Here are some of my favorites.

Ashley, thank you so so much for taking the time to do this for us. These pictures are such a treasure. :)

At last . . .

I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time at the moment, but I wanted to announce the arrival of our latest: Penelope Joy. She arrived after a fast (well, "fast" except for the 3 weeks of practice labor) and furious four-and-a-half-hour labor at home during the night. It was a perfect and beautiful, albeit pretty darn painful and intense experience.

Our biggest baby yet, Penny (I'm going with "Penny," while Paul and Charlie seem to prefer "Pen") weighed in at 9 pounds, 3 ounces and measured 22 1/2 inches long. She's very healthy and pink and nursing like a champ! We're all doing very well, the kids SO excited to have a baby sister. I'm feeling great, though pretty tired. Laboring at night proved to be a very good thing where the other kids were concerned--they just slept right through it! However, the down side is that we were just settling in for naptime as the kids were waking up refreshed and ready to face a new day as always.

There were so many blessings and answers to prayers. I'll get to those when I share my birth story. For now I'll just say I'm so completely blessed and just bubbling over with gratitude. The most amazing gift that God could have given me (along with my brand new daughter and, of course, all of my other children) is my husband. Paul is truly the most incredibly selfless servant of a father and husband that I've ever seen. You really should see this man care for me and the kids like he has, even after being up all night supporting me through labor. I just want to say thank you. Thanks to God and also to Paul for allowing himself to be used as he has.

Penelope, welcome to the world. I can't wait to show you what a wonderful God we serve and what a beautiful world He has allowed you to be born into. Welcome to our family, where we hope to love you as we should, giving you everything. Charlie and Judah, I love you and I hope that you find in Penelope all the love and joy that you have found in each other. Paul, God bless you, my incredible prince of a husband.

Sigh . . . still waiting

I'm getting awfully tired of this. I really shouldn't complain, I know, but really I just want to meet my baby! The thing is, the due date has been up in the air this whole pregnancy. If I go merely on dating, as in last menstrual period, taking into account my long cycles, my due date would have been around June 23 or 24. I was inclined to go by this date, considering that I found out on October 29 that I was pregnant and was having such strong symptoms, and that would have made me about 4 weeks gestation, which seemed about right. However, when I had what would have been my 20-week sonogram (20 weeks by those dates), the baby measured just over 18 weeks. But one cannot estimate the age of the baby according to measurements beyond 11 weeks, because all babies grow at different rates once they pass the 11-week mark. Anyway, the ultrasound people don't seem to be able to think analytically and decided that my new and improved due date would be July 4. So my midwife and I talked and decided to split the difference and set the due date smack in the middle of those two due dates at June 29.
Boy am I glad now that we did that. You see, if I want to have this baby at home, I have to do it before the 42-week point. I thought for absolute certain that the baby would come before the end of June, no problem. And here we are. It's July 7, and there is no sign that the baby is coming any time soon.
I've gone into "practice labor" several times the last three weeks or so, and just last Monday, July 4 (which would have made a cool birthday!), we had the entire birthing team here. Contractions started early in the evening on the 3rd, and by 1 AM on the 4th, I was calling my midwife, birth assistant, midwife student, my friend who was on call to help with Charlie and Judah, and my friend who is photographing the birth for her photojournalism project (that's 9 people, including the family, in my 970-square-foot 2-BR condo). Anyway, while contractions had been a minute and a half long and two minutes apart for a couple of hours, for some reason they ended up spreading further and further apart until they pretty much stopped. We called it quits around lunchtime, which was pretty disappointing. I thought that things would pick up later that day, but even now, three days later, there has been little activity other than the Braxton-Hicks contractions that I've had for the last 21 weeks.
Here's why I'm happy: I'm birthing this baby at home, and I have choices and power to decide what happens. When my midwife came to me and suggested that we take a break and have everyone leave so that I could get some real rest, she laid everything on the table and handed the decision to me. She offered that we could reconnect later in the day and try some things like castor oil, etc. and try to push on, or we could just leave things alone and see what happens. I opted for the latter, feeling no real pressure to force this baby to come. While I would LOVE to have birthed the little guy or girl by now, there is no real reason that it has to be. I firmly believe in letting nature take its course (at least until I run into the necessity of birthing in the hospital--I WILL take action to avoid that).
When I think about what may have happened had I chosen to labor and birth in the hospital, I am so thankful! I probably would have ended up being coerced into pitocin to help labor progress, when in actuality, the baby just needs a little more time to "cook," and my body is just preparing a little more for when the time is right. I'm okay with that. And being at home with such an understanding and gentle and knowledgeable group of women gave me such perspective. They aren't rushing me through the birthing process. They recognize this as perfectly natural, and most of all, they recognize my right to make decisions that I (and Paul) feel good about. It's just so lovely that I wish more women realized the value of midwifery.
Now, that's why I'm happy. Here's why I'm frustrated: Frankly, and please forgive me, I'm getting so tired of having the conversation about how dilated I am and why this baby hasn't come yet and can I believe that it's so late. I really wish that I had not shared my due date with anyone, including myself! I know that people love me and are excited, but I just can't talk about it anymore. It has taken me days to write this post because it's just so tiring.
So the lowdown for all of my loved ones: I really feel great, but I get tired easily, as one can imagine. I am sleeping pretty well, except for when the kids come in on occasion and wake me up. I'm not going to discuss my cervix here, 1) because eww and 2) because it really doesn't matter--when labor starts, it takes its own course, and dilation/effacement really matter very little. The baby was estimated at my 41-week sonogram to be about 9 pounds, but it feels a little bigger than that to me. I'm excited about that--I think big babies are actually easier to birth and eat and sleep better once they are born.
There. I think I've hit the highlights of my current status. I really, really do appreciate everyone's concern and excitement. I'll be quite sure to update everyone via email, Facebook, phone, and blog (probably in that order) as soon as there is a little one to introduce. A happy night to all, and keep me in your prayers, if you think about it.

People say the darnedest things

I thought I'd take my mind off what is sure to be more "practice labor" (only because although I've been having somewhat intense contractions every 5-7 minutes for the last hour or so, I have now called my midwife for the headsup, which only seems to slow labor almost immediately), and tell you about some recent conversations I've had with total strangers.

1. This one has happened about six times during the last 4 months or so, ever since I've been visibly pregnant:
Stranger: "When are you due?"
Me: "The end of June."
Stranger: "Well, my birthday is June the 6th, so I think you should have the baby that day."
Variation: "Oh! You should have the baby on July 12th--that's my birthday!" (this one was said just the other day, after I told a woman that I was past my due date)
Now, I don't mean to be cranky, but seriously? Why the heck do I care to have the baby on a COMPLETE STRANGER'S birthday? I mean, the baby IS going to be born on many, many complete strangers' birthday, regardless of what day that is. And really, my own mother's birthday was yesterday--if I had any control over the day that this baby is to be born (since I don't believe in scheduled c-sections or unnecessary inductions, that is), would I not try for the birthday of someone that means a little more to me than the random guy at the local farmers' market?

2. I'm actually having a contraction during this conversation, mind you.
Stranger: "So, when are you due?"
Me: "About a week ago or so."
Stranger: "So that's the stressed-out look on your face?" (Tactful)
Me: "Um, I guess so."
Stranger: "Pizza helps."
Me: "Excuse me? Like, pizza helps with stress? Or pizza helps with what exactly?"
Stranger: "Both of my kids were born two days after my wife ate pizza."
Now, there's some scientific proof. Once again, some random guy's wife ate pizza and then TWO DAYS later she gave birth. But that's not all! It happened TWICE! Amazing results! Even if she does eat pizza every other day during a pregnancy, who knew?

3. Stranger: "So, just those two kids, plus the one you're carrying?"
Me: "Yes."
Stranger: "You need four more."
Me: "Why's that?"
Stranger: "Because I have seven, so you need seven."
So, nevermind that I have two children in heaven, I know this guy doesn't know that, and I'm not offended by it. But basically because this random guy taking my order at Panera has seven children, I'm supposed to have seven children? Don't get me wrong, I'd love to have that many someday, if God wills it. But it won't be because Chuck the bagel guy thinks his kids are great, which I'm sure they are.

I know that people mean well and that they are only trying to relate and be friendly. It really is okay. I've said some pretty stupid things during my time here on earth as well. I just find it unbelievably entertaining sometimes.