Blogging one handed, with my left hand, at that, is not very fun. My brain moves faster than my left forefinger, so I imagine that creating this post will take a while, as I grab a few moments here and there with two free hands for typing!
Things with my little son are going so well. My recovery couldn't be better, he's nursing like a champ, and his sisters are totally smitten. Sadly, they all seem to have a cold so nobody has been able to hold him yet. As you can imagine, this has produced more than a few tears. The other sad thing is that no matter how much I would like to get a picture of all five children together, I just can't. So much for my Christmas card plan! I'm working on plan B.
Anyway, things here are great, with the only foreseeable problem being Cabin Fever now that it's down to the single digits temperature wise, and there are several inches of snow already on the ground. I have a feeling that Summer will be most welcome again this year. I'm already ready. I don't think I'm cut out for cold climates.
As you all know, this little guy of mine came late. Sixteen days late, to be exact. Sixteen LONG, emotional, uncomfortable, fear-filled, days. See, not only was his lateness (is that a word?) contending with a long anticipated visit from my in-laws for Thanksgiving, but the local hospital doesn't allow VBACs, so I was up against the clock in a serious way. I was not willing to just hand myself over for surgery when I was healthy, my baby was healthy (I had 3 non-stress tests), and I know what the recovery is like for both a cesarean AND a regular delivery. No thank you. I was stressed to the max.
As the visit for Thanksgiving approached, my midwife offered all sorts of natural labor induction options. None of these options worked, and on the day that our family arrived, she called me to calm me. My house would be full of people, I was planning a homebirth, and no matter how much I love them all, my fight or flight kicked in severely. Anyway, my midwife called that morning and told me to stop the black and blue cohoshes that I was trying, and to just enjoy my time with the family over the holiday. After hearing that everyone would be heading home on Saturday, she said, "I'll bet he comes on Sunday!"
We enjoyed a WONDERFUL time with Charlie's parents, his brother, and my sweet future sister-in-law. In fact, the visit seemed to fly by, and other than an unfortunate run in with my flat iron and a couple of hours of pretty intense contractions that died off, I felt really great.
I felt that there really was something to the baby coming on Sunday, once things calmed down, and I calmed down. So, we went to Saturday night Mass, which was beautiful - the first week of Advent - and followed that up with a trip to the tree lot to purchase our Christmas tree.
Sunday morning, I was awakened at 4AM by Gabrielle who had a really bad ear ache. I loaded her up with some homeopathics and a dose of tylenol, made a little sick bed for her on the couch, and turned on a movie for her to watch on Netflix with my computer. There is nothing worse than being sick, and alone, and in the dark - so I stayed up with her. When 8AM arrived, so did her sisters wanting to watch shows with her, so I went and climbed back into bed. Charlie sleeps more than anyone I know, so he was happy to sleep in too and I don't think I actually got back up until about 10:30. He headed out to get us donuts and a newspaper, and then we planned on decorating the Christmas tree.
Around noon, I noticed that my contractions were coming more often, about 3 minutes apart. They were getting stronger, but they weren't unbearable. I just kept on with whatever we were doing. By about 3PM, they were getting a little more painful and it was about then that my midwife called to check on me. I think that I was less bubbly than usual on the phone, and I had more information about how close my contractions were because I couldn't really ignore them any more. Not that they were stopping me just yet. She told me that she was going to go feed her horses (gotta love Wyoming! hehe), change into her scrubs, call her assistant (who lives about 2 1/2 hours away and is just
wonderful), and come over to check on me. When she said she was going to put on her scrubs, it made me think that maybe this could be the day. I had so much hope!
She came over and timed my contractions for a while, chit-chatted with the family, and when checked I was found to be at 8cm. She declared me officially "in labor" and started bringing in all her labor gear and setting it up in my bedroom. The sheer amount of medical equipment was impressive, and the way she set up so efficiently was amazing! I changed sheets and prepared things as well, cleaning up the house, feeding children snacks, and so forth as the contractions came closer and stronger.
Eventually, we realized that the girls were too excited and wouldn't nap through the birth, so we packed them up and sent them over to a friend's house. It was sad for me to tell them goodbye, especially Fina, knowing that by the next time I saw her, she wouldn't be my baby any more. They were, of course, more than excited to go play with their friends and I knew that they were in the hands of people who truly love children, so I think that added sense of peace helped me to let go and allow the labor to come on even more.
Laboring at home was so different than the hospital. I did whatever I wanted. I ate and drank whatever I wanted. I participated in conversations if I felt like it, but didn't have to. Nobody was coming in and checking me every 10 minutes, I didn't have any machines hooked up to me that hindered me, and I didn't have to lay in bed in an awful hospital gown! (I hate hospital gowns! hahaha) Periodically, the midwives checked the baby's heart rate, which was always healthy, and they knew just what I needed when I needed it.
Eventually, the contractions were just one on top of the other, agonizing, and and I knew the time was coming. We hired a local photographer (who did all of our beautiful family photos last Fall, and Felicity's First Communion pictures) to document the birth for us, and she came over. All of us moved from the kitchen, where we were standing around shooting the breeze, to my bedroom where I planned to have the baby. The midwife's assistant asked Charlie to say a prayer, and as he finished, I knew the time for pushing had arrived.
The midwives and I had talked a lot about what I thought I might like to do for the actual delivery - have the baby in the tub or out, whether I'd like to be upright or what. When I had Fina, I was standing and saw the great advantage that gravity could be, because laying in a hospital bed with an epidural was my only other experience. I thought I might want to try the birthing stool, and as it turned out, it was perfect. They set it all up in my bedroom, and when it was time to push, Charlie was able to sit right behind me where he offered such strong, loving support. The location in my room was interesting as well, because right where I sat, the main thing in my view was the crucifix. All I could think of during those contractions was my favorite quote from St. Josemaria's Rosary reflections on the Scourging at the Pillar,
"Look at him, look at him...slowly. After this...can you ever fear penance?"
(Amazing to me, how childbirth always draws me closer to the cross. Even the c-section. I'd say, especially the c-section.)
Earlier in the evening, I had to laugh when we started boiling water. Doesn't that seem so old-school-Hollywood? Well, as it turns out the water being used for compresses during pushing was
wonderful. I pushed four times, with the contractions, for as long as I wanted. Nobody counted at me or raised their voice - there was just peace.
On the fourth push, he arrived, all at once, our long prayed-for, long-awaited son. He was immediately lifted into my arms, where the three of us cried (two of joy) and soaked in the first moments of this life.
Charlie cut the cord, I was helped to (my own!) shower by the midwives, and while I basked in happiness and thanked God for a healthy birth, Joe was weighed, measured, and checked out. His apgar scores were perfect, he weighed 7 lbs and 15 oz (TINY for one of my babies!), and measured in at 19 1/2 inches.
As I was getting out of the shower, Charlie came to inform me that he needed to hurry up and go get the girls, because while time stood still in our home, and we were enjoying the joy of our son's birth, all sorts of other excitement was going on! Our girls were at the home of our friends, and of course, of all times my poor clumsy Colette was doing a dance with her friends, fell, and busted her eyebrow open! They took her to the ER where she was carefully tended to, got to bring her friend along, and even got a popcicle! Good times for her! (She and I have something in common now...I did nearly the same thing at her age, while at a friend's house without my parents there, and ended up with stitches in my head.)
Also, because he was so concerned about what was going on while I was in labor, Bree was made to go hang out outside while I had the baby. He managed to, also of all times, get sprayed by a skunk (we think in the face) while the blissful birth was taking place.
Ah, what memories!!!
While Charlie went for the girls, I was tucked into my own bed with my precious baby, who had already proven himself to be very serious about nursing. Before I knew it, all my girls were there, they were SO excited to meet baby Joe at last! It was such a wonderful feeling to not have to leave them all, we were all together, I wouldn't be alone all night - it really was such a wonderful feeling.
The midwives were so efficient at cleaning up, putting laundry in the wash, making sure I had some good food, and helping the family adjust. Then the next thing I knew, my girls were sleeping in their beds in the next room, the excitement was over, we dressed the baby in clean clothes, and I went to sleep. It was beautiful. I couldn't have asked for anything better.
It is here that I must thank all my friends and family and readers for the abundance of prayers through my pregnancy, through all the waiting, and during the delivery. There were some very hard days for me, days that I really needed other people to do the praying for me, and I am so thankful.
Now, 10 days later, all is going well (other than the fact that 3/4 of my girls seem to have colds and I won't let them hold the baby, and they are somewhat miserable...). The baby is sleeping well, nursing like a champ, and I'm still being taken care of so well by my amazing husband and a very generous community who has blessed us with 4 weeks worth of meals every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Joe had his first pediatrician appointment today (I'm so happy to have found a doctor that supported my homebirth and who does not harass me about some of my non-conventional choices), and he has already gained a full pound and an extra inch!
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| Here's my little man and me! I think he's just so cute! And looks like the rest of our children in some way... |
If you've made it this far, thanks for reading my extra long account of Joe's birth! A baby born on the first Sunday of Advent - the perfect way to start the season...
