Just Another Birth Story

Here it is, finally (thanks to a long nap from both kiddos!) It's a bit long-winded but I included as much as possible both to share and to help jog my memory some day far into the future when I can no longer remember the tiny details of such an important event:

I spent the days leading up to my c-section feeling anxious. I was anxious that I would go in to labor before my in-laws came to watch the toddler. That I wouldn't get everything at work resolved or things at home set up for our new arrival. I was anxious about how the birth would go, whether things would be as planned, whether there would be complications. We spent the weekend "prepping" Ben with the idea that Nana and Poppa would be coming to stay and Mommy and Daddy would be going to the hospital and coming home with baby sister. He seemed thrilled at the idea that he would get to stay with his grandparents and wasn't much phased by the idea that we'd be gone but I was still nervous about leaving him.

Sunday came and went uneventfully. My in-laws came and settled in. They prayed with us Sunday night before bedtime. They assured me that Ben would be fine, that we would be fine. I slept fitfully. And then it was Monday morning. Early, dark and cold. We had to get up by 4:30 in order to be at the hospital by 5:30. I rushed around grabbing last minute items while the husband packed the car and we both tried to be as quiet as possible to avoid waking the tot or the grandparents. As it was, we still left late and ended up rushing a bit to the hospital. It wasn't the panicked, "oh my gosh, I'm in labor" car ride that I'd always imagined making, but it still added to the excitement!

Once I got to the hospital and was admitted, the harried pace seemed to slow to a crawl. I was attached to various monitors and asked 101 questions about my health, my history, my favorite movies and music (kidding on that last one). They started me on fluids and I kept having to pee. This wouldn't have been a big deal had I not already been so wired up that I looked like Frankenstein. Not to mention that there was another couple in the next bed so I had to maneuver carefully as not to give them a full shot of my backside on my way by - thanks to my classy hospital gown that didn't close fully. To make matters worse, someone else had an emergency c-section right before mine, so we were bumped back almost twenty minutes. As anxious as I was to meet my daughter, I welcomed the reprieve and felt sympathy for the other woman as I had been in her place not long ago.

Finally, we were ready. One of the ladies I knew from church who was also a hospital employee came in to give me a hug and wish us luck. I was instantly comforted by the friendly face and felt some of my anxiety dissipate. I was wheeled to the delivery room and seeing the operating table brought it all back for me. I could feel myself starting to get nervous. The nurse that was with me, Lori, was very reassuring. She showed my husband where to sit and helped me up on the table. The anesthesiologist assured me he would do his best to make sure that I was able to be awake for the whole procedure. Lori had me lean over and put my chin to my chest. She held my shoulders and whispered comfort in my ear. "It's going so well. Almost done. Hang in there" and then the spinal block was done. The staff assisted me with getting situated on the table and let me know that I would lose feeling in my legs very quickly. My OB put the catheter in and I felt the pinch and then after that, nothing. My legs, thighs, and stomach were all numb. I was still concerned that even though I thought I couldn't feel a thing, once the cutting started, I would.

They placed the drape and my husband sat next to my head and held my hand. He kept peering around the drape and squeezing my hand. I don't remember having much conversation as I was so anxious and felt odd talking with so many people listening. All of the sudden, I heard my doctor say "She doesn't want to come out of here. She's all snuggly!" A baby cried and there she was! Alexandra Danielle! They held her up over the curtain and she was squalling and slick and perfect. They brought her over to the warmer where the pediatrician was waiting to check her out and clean her up. They held her up again for me to see and called my husband over to be with her. Soon he left with the pediatrician to take her to the nursery to be weighed and cleaned.

And I laid there. And laid there. And laid there. The nurses and the doctor were all talking and joking with each other while they cleaned me up. I could feel the pressure of their hands, pulling and tugging on me. Putting things back in order. I was a rag doll being stitched and stapled. The spinal block numbed me all the way up to my chest resulting a feeling like there was an enormous weight on my chest. Every breath was taking effort and I was starting to panic that I couldn't get enough air. I had to force myself to focus on the surgical light above my head and take slow breaths. I could hear my own heart rate slowing over the monitors as I calmed myself. After what seemed like an year (but was more like thirty minutes) they were done. I was wheeled to recovery with my new best friend, Lori, who stayed with me while I got my bearings. She gave me ice chips, cool wash cloths and anti nausea medication. My husband came in with our new daughter and I was finally able to hold her close to me. To feel the weight of her and marvel at her tiny features. She was absolutely perfect. My daughter.

The Chosen One

Having the hubs around to help out more these past few weeks because of the holiday has been really wonderful. I haven't had to deal with the feeling of wanting to split myself in two because the baby needs to be nursed at almost the EXACT time the toddler needs to be put down for his nap. I haven't had to worry about finding time to pee or eat my lunch. And, most wonderful of all, I have gotten to sleep in and nap on several occasions  while he took care of the kids. I'm glad I married such a good dad.

Only the other night, putting Ben to bed, I discovered an unpleasant by-product of my husband's increased presence. As I was picking out his book and getting ready to read to him, he said "I want it to be Daddy's night". Daddy had put him to bed the last two nights so it was definitely my turn, but apparently having Daddy around was becoming the preference. I said that tomorrow would be Daddy's night, all the while trying not to let the sting show. I have noticed recently that my tot seems to prefer my husband's company. I suspect that this is a combination of toddler preference and the arrival of his little sister.

This new development has reminded me of a time about a year ago when the tables were turned. Every night Ben requested he be rocked by his mama. He cried when it was his dad's turn and fussed when I gave him kisses and tried to leave the room. Both of us felt terrible - me for "abandoning" him when he so clearly wanted me and the hubs because of the obvious rejection. I remember at that time trying to graciously console my husband and reassure him that this would pass. It was only a phase and before we knew it, things would be the other way around and Daddy would be the most desired companion and I would be on the outs. That I would at some point be in the very same position of his father, I had no doubt. What I did not consider at that time was how I would feel about it.

I'm finding it's much easier to be the chosen one than the less desirable option. I struggle with guilt that I have somehow brought this on myself by daring to have more than one child or by not being better at balancing the needs of the two. I worry that he will always prefer his dad's company. I struggle with not taking it personally. In a way, it's almost comical how wounded I can be by the rejection of a two year old. I have to remind myself of the very same things I said to my husband not so long ago - this is a phase and this will pass. I hope it does soon.

Tis' the Season

It's been two full weeks since I blogged. I miss my blog. I am struggling to find time for it. I am struggling to find time for a lot of things recently. You may be nodding knowingly, "Ahh, yes, the transition from one child to two..." But, I don't know if that's it.

I love this time of year. I love the decorations and the lights. I love the music.  I love the snow and the hot cocoa. I like nothing better than baking Christmas cookies and snuggling on the couch watching Christmas movies. I get immense pleasure out of giving the perfect gift to a friend or family member and watching their face when they open it. I love the church all decked out in candles and greenery.

But this year, I'm not feeling it and I don't know why. The most festive tasks are met with irritation and frustration. I find that I am checking off the boxes on the "to do" list more than actually enjoying any of it. I have been racing through present shopping, wrapping the gifts, baking the cookies, decorating the tree without having the time to relish any of the things I really love about this holiday.

I have to keep reminding myself to relax. To take it easy. To stop and take a breath. Maybe it is just the added stress of having a new baby at home and therefore, less sleep. But I think it might be me. I find myself becoming aggravated over the smallest tasks rather than taking pleasure in them. The tree decorating this weekend was met with impatience and a strong desire to just get it done. Combine that with a rambunctious toddler and a fussy newborn and it's a sure disaster. Not to mention that my crabby mood ruins the fun for the rest of my family. I don't want that. I don't want to take the joy away from my children or my husband. I don't want our first Christmas together as a family of four to be squandered in a flurry of to-do lists and obligations. I want to bake cookies with my toddler and I want to sing Christmas songs and look at the lights and spend time with my husband and enjoy my family.

Something needs to change. I need to change. My focus needs to shift from all that "needs" to be done to all that is happening now. I need to remember the reason for Christmas. The blessing that is Christ. The joy of this season. The miracles that we are given every day.

Super Mom

Being a mother of two is a tough gig. (Stop the presses! Breaking news!) I continue to feel pulled in all directions. I love my toddler but he does not react well to being told to wait. To give me a minute. To share his time with his sister. Really, I don't know a lot of adults who do well with patience so it's not that surprising that he struggles. But, it's a rough transition for all of us. I have less sleep and less serenity than I would like. I don't respond very pleasantly to whining or temper tantrums when I am crabby (or well-rested, for that matter).

Part of me is starting to wonder if some of this stress is self-inflicted. Yesterday, I wrote about getting to sleep in but then having to rush like crazy to get the kids out the door so the tot could be on time for preschool. As I was speeding (yes, speeding! With my two children in the car!) it occurred to me that my husband had offered repeatedly to take Ben to school. That had I taken him up on the offer, I could have had more time at home to get ready for my doctor appointment, feed the baby one more time, and still have plenty of time to make it to preschool pick up. That I might have been able to do my hair AND my make-up instead of picking between the two. Heck, I might have even gotten a shower or been able to finish my coffee! 

I don't know why I feel "less than" if, heaven forbid, I allow my husband to take the kiddo to school once in awhile. It's as if my letting him take over the school drop off somehow signifies that I have failed for that day. That I have not met all of my "mom objectives". That I can't hack it and have dropped the ball where so many of my fellow moms are succeeding. I can't explain why or where that comes from. But today I realized that sometimes I need to take the help when it's offered. There are plenty of times when I am wishing I had help and it's not available. I need to be able to accept the assistance with gratitude instead of guilt. Getting help from my co-parent doesn't make me a slacker mom or a bad mom. In reality, if it keeps me from snapping at my two year old for whining, it might even make me a better mom. 

Balancing act

I am unfamiliar with downtime. As it is now, any time I have that both kids are napping or otherwise occupied - I am spending it asleep. I look around my house where things have become piled on every counter and table top, toys are scattered on the floor, miscellaneous baby paraphernalia is strewn around the room and there are dishes in the sink. Not to mention that the check book needs to be balanced and there are miscellaneous phone calls and appointments to be made. It's probably pointless to say that I have had no time to do any of the above due to my annoying need for sleep.

I have recently had this feeling like I am just spinning plates over my head. I'd like to try to accomplish any of the other many things that need to happen but it seems like if I try to get anything else done, I will drop or break one of the spinning plates. It seems like I have all I can handle and that I am just barely making it day to day with the kids being cared for, fed and (sometimes) dressed. Don't misunderstand, I am not complaining in the least. I think I am just surprised by how much of my time is taken up with just the day to day activities of nursing the baby, feeding the toddler, changing diapers, cleaning spit up, rocking, reading, napping, bathing, and bedtime routines. I feel like I can't possibly accomplish one thing outside of our basic needs. Which is probably why I am finding additional goals like Christmas shopping, potty training, baptism planning, and budgeting so daunting. And is also likely why so many things but the very bare necessities have fallen to the back burner.

Until now.

Last night, I was recounting all of this to my husband and saying that if I could just get enough sleep at night, I could get some of these other things done while the kids were asleep in the afternoon. (I did not include blogging in my list because I feel that should just be assumed). Imagine my surprise when the baby who seemed like she would never go to sleep went to sleep at 11pm and we all slept until my nursing wake up at 2:30 and then went back to sleep a little after 3:00 until 7:00am*. Almost seven and a half hours of sleep in total. Which is how I find myself in a somewhat cleaner living space, with a balanced check book, phone calls returned, and dishes put away. Admittedly there is still plenty that needs to be done, but I've accomplished enough to enjoy these few minutes of writing and relaxing. Because it's really just a matter of minutes before nap time is over and the plates start spinning again.

*I should also note that as restful and enjoyable as it is to sleep until 7am - on a Tuesday this also translates to "late for preschool" as it is a physical impossibility to get us all out the door in an hour and 15 minutes. Which led to a very hectic morning making this peace all the much more appreciated.

Not enough hours

Try as I might, I can't seem to find the time to blog as much as I'd like. Our days are flying by in a whirlwind of nursing, napping, family visits and trying to get the every day things like showering accomplished.

But, I am blessed enough to wake up to this every morning:

And (with God's grace) to go to sleep looking at this every night:

I hope that soon I will be able to squeeze more than a few words in between those two events!

One Month

One month ago today I became a mother of two. One month. A month of nursing aggravation, sleepless nights, house guests, sibling rivalries, parenting squabbles and aggravations. A month of baby coos, warm snuggles, big brother kisses, meals from friends, thoughtful cards and emails, singing, rocking and immeasurable joy.

It's the bitter sweetness of it all that I cannot ever quite explain. The struggle and frustration of feeling pulled in so many directions and never really fully meeting anyone's needs. The contentment of snuggling a warm soft baby against my chest. The pride at watching my son handing a toy to his crying sister in an effort to soothe her.  The peace of a quiet house when the stars (and naps) align and I can finally afford a few minutes to myself. The guilt because those few minutes really should be spent cleaning up the mess and catching up on "thank you" notes instead of blogging. The feeling of accomplishment at having made it through this first month without any major catastrophes. The sadness because this first month is already over and the days just keep flying faster and faster.

I am thankful for all of it.

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