(Nearly) three months and no tongue tie later...

When I thought about writing this post, the title was going to be "Two months and a tongue tie later." As you can see, I failed in my timing. We also got a diagnosis contrary to what I was somewhat expecting.

A few weeks ago I wrote a post detailing all that we've been through with breastfeeding. Toward the end I mentioned that a lactation consultant thought Little Man might have a tongue tie, but one that no surgeon might touch. The very next week our pediatrician agreed and told us to go see a specialist to find out if anything could be done.

If you haven't heard of a tongue tie, you aren't alone, though I bet you've heard the phrase "tongue-tied." If you want to know more or see pictures, google it, but it basically means there's a piece of tissue or something that attaches the tongue to the floor of the mouth. Unless clipped, it won't let the tongue move as freely, thus causing nursing problems as well as speech impediments.

Some babies have a posterior tongue tie that is harder to operate on, and since I had been told Silas's was not as pronounced I thought maybe this was the case. I knew he had a high palette (sign of a tongue tie) and he tends to lose suction, but his tongue does move out over his teeth, something that doesn't happen with most tongue tie cases.

I went into our appointment with the pediatric surgeon secretly hoping for a true tongue tie just because it would "solve" my nursing problems. (Me, looking for another solution, trying to control...story of my life!) The pain is pretty much gone now, but Little Man is still an inefficient feeder. He just takes so stinkin' long!

Well, that didn't happen. The surgeon said he doesn't see one at all, that Silas is perfectly fine. I know this is great--who wants their child to go through the agony of having something clipped in his mouth?--but it basically means that until Silas gets big enough to figure it out (or maybe never) he will just take his time.

And that has to be okay. I'm trying to remind myself that one day he won't let me hold him for 30 minutes several times a day. I also just have to organize things so that when he takes a long time to eat, I don't get stressed that we can't go here or do this, etc. And besides, he only eats five times a day now, so things are improving!

Now, funny/could have been not so fun story about our pediatric surgeon appointment. After waiting for 20-30 minutes, we were called back. Little Man was weighed, and we were put in a room. Just as the nurse was walking out of the door, the fire alarm goes off. This was not a normal fire alarm. It was SCREECHING, and for people with epilepsy, seizures would have ensued with the flashing lights.

No one moved at first, but finally the nurse tells me we have to evacuate. I get Silas in one arm, his car seat and bag in the other, and we walk down the stairs outside. We trekked across the parking lot because if this was a real fire I wasn't going to be standing just outside the front door with all the other inconvenienced people.

After several minutes, the fire department arrived. I could tell by the length of time nothing bad was actually happening. At least I hope if there had been a fire they would've responded more quickly. The building was checked, and we were allowed back in.

The entire time we were in the building with the insane screeching, Silas didn't make a peep. He was awake, and I did my best to shove one of his ears into my side while trying to put my arm (that was holding him) over the other ear. Apparently that was unnecessary because my son just looked around, frowning, knowing very well that this was taking more time out of our day than anticipated. Thankful for that, and I really hope his hearing wasn't harmed!

A few more thoughts...

Regardless of what I write--a blog post, a newspaper article, even a to do list--I almost always think of something I forgot soon after finishing. So these are a few extra thoughts on what I posted yesterday about breastfeeding.

I mentioned that I'm fighting to breastfeed. There are a couple areas in my life right now where I feel like I'm fighting for things actually, but this is the one related to Little Man (that's our most used nickname for Silas. We also use Crazy Arms and occasionally Grunty McGrunterson or Grunt, for short.)

Back in the midst of the worst part of my postpartum period, my pastor sent me a couple of links to blogs on the Desiring God site. They were related to the so-called Mommy Wars that are rampant in our culture, i.e. constant comparisons and tearing down of one another. Think breastfeeding vs. formula, working mom vs. stay at home mom. They gave me a lot to think about, and I ended up downloading the DG app so I could keep up with more of the blog posts. Turns out, these two posts were part of a series, the final installment more for pregnant women.

In the post, the author wrote about how, in a very small way, there is a connection between a pregnant woman and Christ. Christ gave His body, His life, for us. Pregnant women give up their body for nine-ish months to allow another tiny human to invade and grow. While I am in no way saying the two are equal in magnitude, both are sacrifices. Christ made the Ultimate Sacrifice, and when you're pregnant you are making the big sacrifice of giving up your body. There are also several smaller sacrifices related to diet, lifestyle, etc.

That got me thinking about breastfeeding. I realized that I was still sacrificing my body in order to feed my child. Again, not on the same scale as Christ in any way, but it encouraged me to keep going. It felt good to realize I was making a sacrifice for my child at a time when I desperately wanted a sense of normalcy that just can't be established with a newborn.

So as nursing became even more difficult with setback after setback, I realized this whole thing was going to be a battle. And I decided I would fight that battle, one to two weeks at a time. Yes, ultimately I have a goal of how long I'd like to breastfeed, but it's too far in the future. To stay sane, I just look ahead one or two weeks.

Now, I definitely realize that formula is not the devil and a very good option for babies. I was formula-fed for crying out loud, and I think I turned out pretty well :) But I'm also pretty stubborn and want to give this my all before trying something else. The other night I was talking with Andrew about this whole thing and about how hard it is to keep fighting to feed Silas in this manner. I know I'm not the only mom who feels like her child's nutrition is dependent on her.

Andrew then lovingly reminded me that Little Man's survival is not dependent on me, that if I stop breastfeeding tomorrow, he won't starve to death. And deep down I do know this, I really do. But I think one reason I want to keep trying is because of the connection that has been created between us. I'm not talking about the lovey-dovey bond that some moms gush about when they think about how much they love breastfeeding their child. I didn't start out breastfeeding for the bond; I started because it's cheap. That's the honest truth.

The connection I'm thinking of has more to do with establishing a love for my child through the sacrifice. Contrary to what I thought would happen, I did not immediately fall in love with my child from the moment I saw him. And I know I'm not the only one. I loved him, yes, but I wasn't head over heels. I was probably too panicked to really get there early on. As many of my friends kept telling me, I was in survival mode those first few weeks.

I say contrary to what I thought, because if you know me well, you know that I love children and have spent a pretty good part of my life hanging out with them. I started babysitting at 12, changing diapers well before that, so on and so forth. Last year I even picked up a crying baby out of a buggy at Walmart because his mom and grandmom were dividing up the groceries and couldn't get to him. It just seemed natural that I would fall in love with my newborn baby and love being a mom.

That wasn't the case.

Two months in, I can now say that I am falling in love with my child, more so every day. And through so many things not related to nursing. But in working to overcome so many obstacles, I did create a connection with my baby that I think helped me in those days where I thought, "What the heck did I do? I had a baby?!"

One final thought: when I go play a tennis match in my head over whether I'm producing enough and if I don't pump now will that kill my supply, etc. etc., I try to remind myself that ultimately, God is in control. When someone tells me to try this pill or that method and stress seeps in, I have to remember that if I'm supposed to keep doing this, God will provide the supply...regardless of what I'm taking or if I remembered to do such and such.

And here ends my random thoughts I forgot to include yesterday. Congrats if you stuck with them to the end!

My battle (thus far) to breastfeed

News flash: Delivering a baby is NOT the hardest thing about having a baby...even if you do it sans drugs. And neither is breastfeeding, though the purpose of this post is to complain talk about the troubles Silas and I have had so far. (What is the hardest thing about having a baby? I'm gonna go with the actual parenting part, but more on that and my panic attacks regarding it in future posts.)

While I didn't think nursing would be an easy thing--I knew it would be painful in the beginning--I didn't realize how much stress and frustration it could cause a person. Sure, I've had friends and relatives who've had the occasional case of mastitis, and I've had friends who've made every effort to pump/supplement/nurse to overcome production issues and nourish slow-gaining babies. Because of that knowledge I always said I would try to breastfeed, acknowledging it might not work out for whatever reason.

However, I never imagined my first opportunity to try and feed my child the "natural" way would go the way it has.

From the very beginning the information I received was confusing.

"Your baby hasn't eaten in 24 hours? That's wrong!" -- hospital pediatricians

"Don't worry that your baby hasn't eaten since after the delivery. Not eating in the first 24 hours is just fine; he was nourished by the placenta up until he came out." -- the lactation specialists in the hospital

Like many babies, Silas was a sleepy eater. And like many babies, Silas lost weight in the first days of his life. But he lost more than the pediatricians wanted, so that meant it was time to supplement. The culprit? Possibly slow milk production.

Silas was born on a Thursday night, and we left the hospital Sunday morning. That week we had three visits to the pediatrician and one visit to the free lactation support time at our pediatrician's office. On Monday, Silas was still losing. On Tuesday, he held steady. I was told to pump and use this tube feeder apparatus to supplement after every feeding. On Wednesday, I was given a list of things to try to increase my milk production, including an herbal supplement that would increase prolactin (milk-producing hormone) as well as mammary tissue. On Thursday, we rested. On Friday, we were back at the pediatrician.

At our third visit to the doc, Silas still wasn't on track with his weight. The plan we were given was to continue pumping and supplementing, do a weight check at lactation the following Wednesday and come back the following Friday. (By this time we had replaced the tube feeder with one we could tape to our finger. The tube had a sharp end, and the supplemental nursing system (SNS) worked so much better. It did take forever though...) We were told to supplement after every other feeding.

Maybe it was my panic over the fact that I was now responsible for a human, or maybe it was the stress of pumping, nursing and supplementing--okay all of the above--but I couldn't bear to continue that for another week. I broke down crying and asked about formula.

The new plan: stop pumping and supplement with formula in a bottle. No more stressful pumping sessions, no more worrying over not getting anything while pumping and no more slow supplement gadgets. Before I could even think about "nipple confusion" the doctor said he didn't believe in it. Thankfully things worked out, and Silas never had trouble switching back and forth.

Over the next couple of weeks things got better (still painful, but better). The herbal supplement really seemed to do the trick because I was producing well enough to not need to supplement most of the time. We really only used formula when I needed to get out of the house, we had a sitter and not enough pumped milk or during some "growth spurt feedings" that lasted 45 minutes to an hour and caused me lots and lots of pain. (As of today, Silas hasn't had formula in over two weeks.)

Then BAM. Mastitis. Fever, chills, flu-like aches. And a clogged milk duct. Yippee. I went to the midwife and started on an antibiotic. Three days later I was in the same place. New antibiotic. Finally, relief and things were looking up...or were they? The clogged duct never went away, and I was sent for a breast ultrasound and a visit to a breast surgeon. Instead of draining it, we waited, and it started to dry up on its own.

While at the surgeon's office I asked about another spot I was worried about. It didn't feel like a plugged duct, and due to my family's ridiculous history with breast and ovarian cancer, I wanted an expert opinion. And apparently another ultrasound. At least it came back as "nothing suspicious."

During the next couple of weeks I started taking another herb to try and prevent clogged ducts, along with a probiotic. I haven't done the math, but all of the herbs and prescriptions kept me digging into my wallet quite often.

This brings us up to June 16. I'll spare the details, but I was hit (and rather quickly, I might add) with another case of mastitis. I got on antibiotics again and was better in two or three days. The end, right?

Unfortunately not.

Last Tuesday I was doing some reading about breastfeeding and pain. Apparently, by now I shouldn't be experiencing any pain. So why was I? I headed back to the lactation support time the next morning. It seemed that Silas might have a tongue tie, meaning his tongue was anchored by tissue and couldn't function in a way to nurse efficiently. This would explain the pain I was having and why he still took at least 30 minutes to feed every time. However, it could also be something entirely different.

Not wanting to wait another week for his two-month appointment, last Thursday I went to see a lactation specialist at the hospital where I gave birth. I learned Silas probably does have a tongue tie, but not one that a surgeon would be willing to take on more than likely. (The tissue is clipped, allowing the tongue to move more freely.) Another dead end...with a possible dirt path to the side.

Apparently, the specialist felt like I might have yeast (yes, it seems you can have a yeast infection in the nursing area, too.) So, Silas and I are both being treated for yeast since we can pass it back and forth. More than just pills, creams and droppers of medicine, I have to boil anything that goes in his mouth and wash anything that touches my chest in hot water. And hang it in the sun to dry (sun=natural yeast killer). Yes, I am that girl who is hanging my bras on a clothesline. I'd also like to hang a sign that says "Mom killing bad stuff in order to continue breastfeeding. Please look the other way for a couple of weeks."

And that's where we are. Whew.

I'm giving the yeast treatment two weeks, and on Thursday I'll have Silas's pediatrician check out this probable tongue tie that possibly no surgeon will touch even if we want to. Oh, and I was told to stop pumping and building my freezer supply. And that if it turns out to be yeast, I will need to throw out all of the milk pumped while I was in pain. Oh the agony!

I'm well aware that we can switch to formula at any time. But if you stuck with this insanely long post, you may realize we've spent a lot of time and money to try to continue to breastfeed. For that reason alone I've decided to keep fighting for this.

...though if something else strikes, I may reevaluate.

So for my pregnant friends and those who aren't, breastfeeding is tough. Tougher than society lets on. And tougher than your mom remembers. It's definitely been a battle for this new mommy.

The long-awaited birth story

Silas Finn Holloway was born at 9:56 p.m. on May 3. He weighed 8 pounds 5 ounces and was 21.5 inches long. Here, finally, are the details of his birth. (p.s. I really wanted to post this weeks ago, however, subsequent posts may provide reasons for why this has taken so long! p.p.s. "gross" things may be discussed...it is a birth story after all. I warned you.)

It all began around 3 a.m. on Thursday, May 3. I woke up to some cramping that lasted until around 4:30 a.m., but I dismissed it as pretty normal. I'd been having some cramps off and on throughout the pregnancy, and while I noticed them more so the week before, I knew they could be an early sign of labor but not an imminent sign.

[Side note: I also had some nausea, another early sign of labor, the last week in April. And three days before Silas' arrival I started using evening primrose oil as suggested by my midwife to "ripen the cervix." Not sure if that's why Silas came soon after, but I'll definitely keep it in mind for any future children!] 

Back to May 3. I got up to start my day around 5:30 because I was going to watch my friend Erica's daughter, Adeline, for the day. It was at that time I noticed blood, which generally means the mucus plug has broken or is beginning to break up. I yelled for Andrew...though I'm not sure why. As he stumbled to the door, I spilled out what had happened and asked if I should call the midwife, basically knowing I would anyway. He agreed and went right back to bed.

While continuing to get ready to babysit, I spoke with one of my midwives who said to just watch things for the day, look for patterns and call if my water broke. Because I tested positive for strep B, I needed to come in pretty soon after my water broke, even if labor hadn't started, to get antibiotics.

I then headed out to Erica's. Once there I told her I was putting her on notice that I might go into labor while at her house so she might need to come home early. She left at 6:30, and I took to the couch. Around that time I started noticing more cramping, and they did seem to be patterned. I had already texted both of my doulas to let them know things might be happening, but sometime after 8 I decided to call Lisa. I told her that I was having low abdominal cramps every 4.5 minutes or so that lasted for about 40 seconds each. I really wanted to know if she thought I should go home in the event things began progressing quickly. We decided it might be a good idea.

Probably around 9 I called Erica to come home, which she did soon after. I actually never saw her daughter because Adeline slept late that morning. I got home around 10 and took to my couch. Andrew came home from work around 11:30 and headed back out to get us lunch. I didn't know it at that point, but Panera would be the last thing I would eat before our son was born.

We both hung out for the afternoon while I watched episode after episode of Gilmore Girls. Around 2 I started timing things again...still truly believing I was having cramps, not contractions. The pain was still really low, and I knew most contractions are felt all over. I was warned, however, that anything patterned could mean labor is happening. Around 3, after talking to Lisa again, I decided to call the midwifery office before they left for the day. My "cramps" were coming every 3-5 minutes and lasting for at least 60 seconds. I talked to Annie the midwife (I also had a doula named Annie) who told me to come in for a check since I was strep B positive. I think if I had been negative I would've been told to stay put because I wasn't terribly uncomfortable.

We got to the hospital at 4, and apparently Annie the midwife saw us in the parking lot and was coming to meet us. On her way, she was pulled into a delivery. Annie the doula had also come to meet us to find out if we would be admitted or sent home. So Annie the doula, Andrew and I were put in a room where I was strapped to a fetal monitor and another monitor and told to sit tight, Annie the midwife would be in soon.

Two hours later Annie the midwife showed up. During that two hours, I got really uncomfortable with things strapped to me. We were able to get me unstrapped so I could sit in a rocking chair. Still somewhat unknown to me (again, thinking I'm having cramps) I was beginning active labor. By the time Annie the midwife got to my room I was dilated 4 centimeters, and my water had broken. Not really sure when that happened, but I'm guessing it was a slow leak.

She decided to keep me and start the antibiotics. This was around 6 p.m. The birthing room with the tub was available, so we all moved there and called Lisa to come. Everything that happened between 6 and 9 is somewhat of a blur. This is a summary of what I recall: rocking in a rocking chair until the tub was full, sitting in the tub which relieved my back labor, being taken out of the tub to labor again in the rocking chair. Oh, and I threw up six times during that period.

The room was pretty silent during that three hours. Apparently Andrew left the room to eat dinner, and I never even knew he was gone. The room was dimly lit, and I had my eyes closed most of the time. It took all of my mental focus to stay on top of each contraction, breathing deeply and occasionally repeating, "You can do this. You can do this."

I do remember Annie the doula breathed through nearly every contraction with me, and I alternated squeezing her hand, Lisa's hand and Andrew's hand. Andrew said he noticed my squeezing was much stronger as the night went on...eventually even a little painful! Besides repeating my mantra, the only words I recall being spoken were "water" and "ice."

Around 9 p.m. I remember looking at Lisa and asking what was going to happen next. She told me later that was the moment she knew I was ready to deliver because it was the first negative thing I had said all night. I got back in the tub and told Annie the midwife I thought I might be ready to push. The time had come, and what I had heard would happen in a natural birth did--my body knew it was time!

Annie the midwife checked to see if I was indeed dilated far enough, and she said something to the effect of, "When you're ready, give it a shot!" It took me a few contractions to get the hang of pushing--I initially tried to keep breathing through the contraction and push at the same time. That is a terrible idea, and one that my midwife corrected pretty quickly. Once I figured it out things went pretty smoothly. I got 3-4 pushes in per contraction, and soon after I began pushing I felt burning. From my reading I knew that meant the head had come down.

They told me to reach down and feel it, which scared the heck out of me. I finally did it, and rather than feeling a round circle, I only felt a sliver. That disappointed me because I thought I would feel more than I did. I kept going though, and eventually Annie the midwife told me to take a break. Shortly after that I started pushing again, and Silas came out!

We, of course, didn't know he was a he at that point. I held this gray, squirmy little thing to my chest and kept looking at Andrew. I couldn't decide if I wanted to cry, laugh or catch my breath from all the pushing and guttural-type noises I had been making. (My throat was sore for a day from throwing up and the noises made while pushing.) I then remembered we had no idea what our baby was.

I asked Andrew if he knew--nope. I asked Annie the midwife what we'd had, and she didn't know either! She hadn't looked. Andrew told me weeks before that he didn't want to be the one to tell me in case he messed up, so I asked Annie to check. Yep, we'd had a boy! Andrew and I were a little in shock since we really felt like we were having a girl. So in shock that Andrew had to take a minute to remember the name we'd chosen, and he had forgotten the middle name completely.

The hard part was over, but we weren't done yet. After the umbilical cord stopped pulsing, Annie the midwife helped Andrew cut it. She and Lisa then helped me out of the tub and onto a hospital bed so I could deliver the placenta and have my tear repaired.

The rest of the night consisted of playing with the placenta (Andrew), nursing (Silas) and talking a whole bunch (me). Apparently all the adrenaline from getting through the birth woke me up, and I talked until at least midnight. By then we were in our room for the weekend, complete with double bed!

I'm extremely thankful everything went well and we had a drug-free, intervention-free (minus the antibiotics for strep B) delivery. Things moved so quickly that night that we had to stay an extra day for  Silas to be monitored because he came just shy of four hours after I was given penicillin. The hospital pediatricians like moms to get at least two doses, but Silas came too soon for that.

Our doulas commented that they never even got into their "doula bags." I had every intention of trying several different ways to labor--hands and knees (using Lisa's newly-purchased garden pads), the rebozo, the birth ball, music, on and on. But active labor came on so fast, and I could barely move. Getting up to go to the bathroom or to the birthing tub took everything I had, so I preferred to sit very still, leaning back, to get through each contraction.

One final thing I'll say about that night, and then we'll call it quits for this lengthy post. I'm so glad we hired a doula (and ended up with two!) and went with a midwife. Lisa and Annie the doula prepared us so well and were great that night, and Annie the midwife was fantastic. She never even left the room during the entire laboring process! Again, so grateful for the ways things went...all by the grace of God.

I'll post more pictures from that night (well, the G-rated ones, which are mainly of Silas...I did give birth in a tub after all), but here are a few of baby Silas in those first days at the hospital:

Soon after being born

 after Friday night's bath

 my dad with Silas

yay for scratch mittens!

leaving the hospital Sunday

me with Lisa and Annie after Silas was born

Preggo photos

Nah, these aren't belly shots, just some random pictures I've taken recently that involve pregnancy so I thought I'd share.

First, a picture of pregnant me with Andrew at a friend's wedding in March:

Next, something I found at the thrift store. No, I didn't buy it, though I support the message!

Andrew has this obsession with finding "pregnant parking." Even when I go to Babies 'R' Us the expectant mothers spots are taken (often by non-pregnant people, I might add...yes I'm watching you!), but the time we went together we scored one of the spaces!

Though originally we decided to get the Baby Bjorn pack and play because we'd heard amazing things about it, we got a really nice dividend from REI this year and found a pretty cool option there. It's inflatable and has a zipper, tent-like opening. Some moms who reviewed it said they would lie in the opening while nursing, gently lay the baby down when done, crawl out and zip it up. No leaning over to put the baby down! I had to test it out to see if I could not only halfway fit in, but totally fit...

Sherpa has become fascinated by all the baby stuff entering our house. 

And one final picture. We used some of the decoration from my baby shower in the baby's room:

Tie-dying onesies

This is my friend Lauren.

Lauren is also pregnant, due Aug. 31. She and her husband have decided, like us, they will wait until the baby is born to find out boy or girl. We're not alone!

When you aren't finding out what you're having, you tend to acquire fewer clothes than people who know the baby's gender. Andrew and I are fine with this--we've stocked up on a few essential gender-neutral outfits in newborn and 0-3 months to get us through the first few days. Neither of us has a problem with our baby wearing basic white onesies either.

However, I decided it would be fun to tie-dye some onesies so my baby has a few things with color. Lauren was game because she'll be in the same boat very soon.

After checking the Internet on how to actually tie-dye things (pretty sure I haven't done this since Girl Scouts), we decided buying a kit would be the best plan. We wouldn't have eight pots of different colors, and onesies are so tiny, dipping the separate sections might be difficult. We picked up a Tulip kit at Walmart with five colors of dye, five squeeze bottles, instructions, lots of gloves and rubber bands for $20, so $10 each. We made around 12 onesies and have extra dye packets for a rainy day.

We used the guide to pick out the different "techniques" we wanted to try, then banded up our bright white onesies indoors.

We moved outside to do the actual tie-dying. Here are some pics of the wet, dyed onesies:

I definitely don't remember this part from whenever I last tie-dyed, but apparently you should wrap whatever you dyed in cling wrap to keep everything damper longer. After a certain amount of time (I got busy and didn't do this for 24 hours....woops) you unbind the material and rinse it in warm water until the water runs clear. I guess I used a TON of dye because this step took me forever. I would get all of the outfits rinsed, then go back and start again only to find more color in the tub! The purple was the worst. I finally finished, then threw them in the washing machine and hung them up to dry.

A few of my finished onesies! We'll definitely have one colorful baby!

**A question for those of you in Western Mass: can you get snow cones in New England? Lauren's from Texas, and I'm from Alabama--we both grew up with snow cone shacks all over the place, and when dying these outfits, we realized squeezing dye onto fabric reminded us of how snow cones are made. We then realized we've not had a snow cone since moving up here! Do these delicious treats exist in this part of the country? If you know, comment so I can no longer be deprived!

Oh the decisions!

Some of you hear me talk about our birth plans pretty often, while others of you have no idea what we hope for other than we do indeed plan to have this baby come out of me! Even if you know some of our hopes, they may not make a lot of sense. I throw around words like “midwife,” “doula,” interventions and speak of private childbirth education classes, but what do those things mean and why did we choose them?

I had the opportunity to explain some of this to my brother recently and decided I would do the same for my adoring readers, i.e. the handful of you that are really just waiting for pics of the baby or for Andrew and I to throw in the towel on our never-ending renovation.

To begin, two definitions that will become important if you choose to read further:

midwife: it means “with woman.” There are different designations depending on education and licensing, but I see a group of certified nurse midwives, meaning each has “graduated from one of the advanced education programs accredited by the American College of Nurse Midwifery (ACNM).  In addition, nurse midwives must pass a rigorous national certification exam and meet the strict requirements of the state health agencies (from my care provider’s website).”

So yes, they know what they’re doing, which is  a question I get a lot. There are midwives that work with OB/GYNs in offices and hospitals, those who work in birthing centers and some who attend home births. In Mass, the latter are not under consistent regulation, but hopefully will be in the near future. In Alabama, it’s actually illegal to be a home birth midwife, so many do it under the radar.

I could say more, but in any case, I see CNMs who are very skilled in “catching babies,” and they also perform routine gynecological care.

doula: (from dona.org) “The word "doula" comes from the ancient Greek meaning "a woman who serves" and is now used to refer to a trained and experienced professional who provides continuous physical, emotional and informational support to the mother before, during and just after birth; or who provides emotional and practical support during the postpartum period.

Studies have shown that when doulas attend birth, labors are shorter with fewer complications, babies are healthier and they breastfeed more easily.”

Another way to think of a doula is a labor support coach. And they don’t catch babies.

So why did I choose a midwife? Mainly because I could. There are several options in my area for having a midwife so I wanted to give it a shot. Also, the nurse who confirmed my pregnancy asked, “What kind of birth do you want?” I said, “natural.” She recommended I definitely choose the midwives in the office, so I did.

The big difference I find in seeing a midwife versus an OB/GYN is that midwives don’t do surgery. OBs are trained surgeons. Many women who are looking to deliver with less medical interventions (these include but are not limited to episiotomy, epidurals/other anesthesia, continuous electronic fetal monitoring, induction) feel they have a better shot of achieving that with a midwife. That’s not saying midwives don’t use interventions—they do. (If a woman wants an epidural, she can certainly still deliver with a midwife.) It’s just that many midwives seem to be more patient and allow a woman’s body to do what it was created to do. The majority will give more time and try more alternative techniques. Some deliveries still end in C-sections. Some don’t. If a woman wants natural childbirth, with a midwife she may be allowed to labor for many, many hours before any interventions are suggested.

I’ve also just done a lot of research on labor and delivery in the last year or more and midwifery is the common practice in not only underdeveloped nations but in developed nations outside of the U.S. In many developed countries, women only deliver with OBs when there is an emergency.

And not to completely open a can of worms here, but through that research I really began to realize I wanted to deliver with the least medical interventions possible. I’ve always wanted natural childbirth, too. In the U.S. the national C-section rate is about 32-33%. The World Health Organization recommends it should be 15% or lower. Through my research (and even looking at birth statistics for various offices/hospitals in my area) I found that cesarean rates are lower with midwives. It all goes back to allowing a woman’s body to take the time it needs to deliver rather than trying to speed things up. Once one intervention is used, a lot of times things spiral from there and more follow. There are appropriate uses of all of the interventions—research just shows that many are used inappropriately in our country. (As my friends here know, I could probably talk about this for hours, so I’ll stop now. I can definitely recommend books and other resources to back all this up, though.)

So why did I choose a doula? To help me work toward having the labor and delivery I desire. A friend of mine in Alabama used one a couple of years ago and found it really helpful when approaching natural childbirth. I know very well that something could wrong with my delivery and it could end in the use of medication or even a cesarean. However, I’m preparing to do it differently. We hired an awesome doula named Lisa Beauchemin who also happens to be a childbirth educator, so she really knows her stuff.

Through our childbirth ed classes and prenatal doula appointments, Andrew and I really feel prepared for what will hopefully be a natural delivery. We’ve not only learned techniques to deal with pain and such, but doulas also help you advocate for yourself once in the hospital. In the heat of the moment, so to speak, you can’t be expected to remember everything, so a doula can remind you of questions to ask your practitioner and things like that. They also attend lots of births so they recognize when certain things may be happening that parents don’t because they aren’t in delivery rooms multiple times a year.

We actually have co-doulas due to some possible scheduling conflicts, but if everything goes well, we’ll have two doulas with us for the birth. Soon I’ll post more about things we’ve learned from our doulas in relation to helping get our baby in the right position for labor…stubborn Baby Floyd needed some help. More on that later.

One other thing we’ve found to be not necessarily essential to working towards our ideal labor and delivery but super helpful is taking our childbirth education classes privately, in our own home. I mentioned that Lisa is also a childbirth educator—she teaches at a local hospital, but she also does private classes. We have loved this option.

I originally looked for it because my Alabama friend who used a doula recommended I take classes outside the hospital since I wanted a natural delivery. I feel like I know so much more from having done private classes. We spend more time on the things Andrew and I need and want to know about while still covering all of the material related to birth. We don’t have to wait while others have their questions answered, and if something doesn’t make sense or we want to know more, it’s just us so there’s plenty of time.

The added bonus: it didn’t cost us anymore to take classes privately than it would have to take them through the hospitals in our area. I would highly recommend it to anyone, regardless of the kind of labor you want.

Before I close out this enormous post, I will say that just because I want a natural birth with zero interventions doesn’t mean I think it’s the right way to go for everyone. I do think it’s important to educate yourself on these things regardless of what you want—you wouldn’t buy a house without an inspection or send your child to a new school district without checking it out, why deliver a baby without knowing all the possible things that could happen?

I do think our country has gone down the wrong road in several ways regarding childbirth, but I also know there are appropriate and needed uses for all of the things I don’t want in my delivery. In addition to mentally preparing for the birth I want, I’m mentally preparing for that to go wrong because no one can predict what will happen once labor starts. I don’t want anyone to break my water, but if all other options have been exhausted and it has to happen, it has to happen. The same for other interventions.

As Andrew continually reminds me: the goal is for mom and baby to come home. Period. 

It's the baby's room...not a nursery

We do not have a nursery in our home. Not according to Andrew. We have a baby’s room. Apparently the term “nursery” upsets him. Or it at least doesn’t sit well. So I have to remember to call what used to be our guest room the baby’s room instead of referring to it as the nursery, even though he did use that word once. It was only the one time though, and I made sure to call him out on it!

People ask me all the time…well, not all the time. It’s not like being 34 weeks pregnant means everyone and their mom talks to me. I do live in the North where it can take some people two years to strike up a random passerby convo with another human—no offense to my close Northern friends, y’all are definitely exceptions! Anyway, people ask me occasionally if I’m ready for this baby to come out. And the answer is no. Nope, it can stay in there awhile! That’s because we still have a little ways to go before we have things ready for this child.

I posted earlier about my baby shower in Alabama. Because it was so far away, we set it up as a gift card shower, so I came home with lots of checks, cash and gift cards to different stores. Andrew and I have begun using our stash to slowly gather things we need for the room, but we’re waiting to do the majority of it in April after my shower in Massachusetts.

We have bought a few things, but our first day of shopping was not entirely what we expected. We found a glider and ottoman at Target, bought it and headed to Home Depot. Easy enough? Not quite, but that comes later. At Home Depot we were looking for an area rug for our living room. We wanted to put the current rug that is a 5’x7’ in the baby’s room (it doesn’t completely coordinate, eh, details), and get a new, larger rug for our living room. This way the baby has more comfortable floor space, and I just wanted a larger rug. Also—we decided we’d extend Sherpa’s boundary into the living room. We don’t want him feeling even more left out when the baby gets here, and this way there’s less hardwood floor for him to potentially scratch.

At HD we found the perfect rug—really a bound carpet scrap—that was less than $100. That’s fantastic considering most rugs in large sizes start around $400. We decided we’d come back for it on our way north. We then headed to IKEA to scope out some furniture.

Once there, we moved quickly. I’ll admit there are some great finds there, and it’s nice to study each space to dream of what could work for you; however, we’ve also had some nightmare experiences with their larger furniture (large piece + particle board = DO NOT BUY). When I go with friends we generally spend hours there, but with Andrew or alone, we're in and out as quickly as if it were Wal Mart. We hit up the dresser area to look for something that could work as a combo dresser/changing table. We found two options that unfortunately did not hold up to Andrew’s shimmy and shake test. We also found two options for storage but decided to just keep those in mind. After a quick walk through the marketplace for some glass jars, we were outta there in well under an hour! Oh, and we got cinnamon rolls. Those or ice cream are an IKEA requirement.

Here’s where the problems began:

a) I was slightly disappointed we didn’t buy the storage bookcase with baskets. It would have been great.

b) The awesome rug at HD had a grease stain. We then checked two other HDs and a Lowe’s. Nothing similar.

c) After Andrew put together the rocker (while I was napping), we realized it was the wrong one. The price should’ve been our first clue, but since we paid with gift cards we didn’t notice.

Needless to say I was definitely disappointed now and frustrated. However, we rallied and the following actions were taken to solve our problems:

a) I returned to IKEA about three weeks later and bought the bookcase and baskets. By then we determined it would fit just fine in the baby’s room and was a needed item.

b) I returned to the initial Home Depot where I rechecked the stain—it was pretty tiny—and found an associate to inquire about a discount. If this was a no go, we did have a second choice of rugs at the same store; however, he gave me 25% off! And I got the stain out, no problem.

c) I returned to Target with my disassembled rocker, returned it, purchased the correct one AND it happened to not be on sale but was marked down for some strange reason! Wahoo!

Then last week at the Trading Post (used/vintage furniture, often at great prices) I scored a dresser for only $45 that will be perfect for a changing table. I need to repaint it and do a little work on the drawers, but it's gonna be great!

Now we need a crib, some organization and motivation for me to finish the crafty touches on my ridiculously long list!

 

 Current pic: the changing area will be where the rocker is now. 

The floor is covered with gifts and borrowed items.

 The bookcase and baskets from IKEA!

The dresser/changing table. I plan to paint it a tan color.

(The items on top are living room/kitchen crafts I have going on.)

And just for fun, a picture of Andrew the night we inventoried all the cloth diaper stuff our friends the Olbrychs loaned us:

He's super excited about cloth diapering!!

Scenes from Baby Floyd’s first shower

Over President’s Day weekend in February I flew back to Bama to help host a baby shower for my sister-in-law Brandy and for my first shower in Fort Payne.  Here are a few pics Brandy took at my shower:

Me with several of the hostesses

 My mother-in-law, niece and sister-in-law came up from Birmingham

Delicious and super cute cookies!!

Some of the shower decor

The shower was held at the church I grew up in, and 14 women signed on to help host the event. Many of them worked with my mom, and I’m so thankful her friends continue to check in on the family and care for us seven years after mom passed away.

Anyway, in the South it’s traditional to give hostess gifts, but what do you get 14 women that won’t break the bank AND will be compact enough to travel from Mass to Bama? Coasters! I posted a few weeks ago about the Christmas gifts I made, and one of them was coasters. While I made four sets at Christmas, I made 14 sets for this shower! It was a bit crazy at the house for two days while I set up my assembly line.

It was also heavy. I didn’t realize how much 14 sets of coasters would weigh (though I should have—I did buy them and carry them to the car), and I knew I needed to carry them on so they wouldn’t break. Thank goodness for small, rolling, carry-on suitcases and really nice TSA agents who compliment you on your crafting ability while checking said suitcase for suspicious activity! Here are a few pictures of the process:

TONS of scrapbook paper needed for this undertaking...

Six sets complete!

And the other eight!

 The day before we had Brandy’s shower in Birmingham. I spent the weeks leading up to the shower crafting for my nephew who should arrive any day now! These are pictures of some of the gifts I made for baby Collier:

Applique onesies

Collier's rag quilt

Burp cloths

I got these from Etsy. Brandy can stick them on Collier's outfit and take monthly pictures.

My friend's mom made an owl rattle, and I included a candle. I also made a book through Shutterfly telling Collier about his grandmother Charlotte.

Preggo sisters-in-law!

Some of you know I started a temp job in January that was supposed to be for about a month. It actually lasted until March 2, which was really helpful financially and as a distraction to entering my third trimester. Even though I only worked there for two months, the women in my department were super sweet and threw me a surprise baby shower on my last day at work. I don’t have pictures from the party, but they gave us a laundry basket full of toys, books and other cute baby items. Such a fun way to end my time at Yankee Candle Corporate!

Pregnancy Observations

Just wanted to share a few random observations/anecdotes I’ve stored up over the last few weeks.

#1. Waddling: Lots of people describe pregnant women in their last few months as waddling, rather than walking. I think the general assumption is that it’s easiest to walk this way due to the size of a pregnant belly being in the way. However, now that I’ve experienced this, I have other causes waddling could be attributed to. (Granted, size is a factor, I just think there are other reasons people should also consider.)

Like back pain. Especially lower back pain. Now, one could say that lower back pain is being caused by the excess weight so we’re back at waddling due to weight. I beg to differ. You could just be me and decide against your better judgment to help move some furniture/other items and strain your back a bit. Don’t worry, it wasn’t too bad, and I learned my lesson. I think.

Leg cramps or stiffness can also create the need for waddling, although if I get a bad enough cramp behind my knee I tend to writhe around or imitate dance styles of the 80s.

#2. Enjoy any public education classes you attend: Andrew and I decided to do private childbirth education. A friend of mine suggested it since I want to try to deliver naturally with the fewest medical interventions possible. Instead of going to the hospital for classes with tons of people where we quite possibly won’t get through all the material while also listening to those who maybe should have chosen a later date to reproduce ask very, how should I put it, “interesting” questions, we do them at home. Our doula teaches classes at one of the local hospitals, but she also does private classes, and we have really benefited from the extra time. We’re able to cover everything at our own pace, and spend more/less time on what matters most/least to us.

Anywho, if you do attend a class at a local hospital or something similar, pay attention to others so you can be sure to leave the class with at least one good anecdote for the water cooler. We did go to “Keeping Baby Safe” last week, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that every couple in the room was genuinely interested in learning infant CPR and First Aid.

Or so I thought.

After we got through the first hour and a half of videos (that’s another plus to private classes—more discussion, less videos) about fire safety, childproofing, etc., we moved on to the CPR stuff. Toward the end, we had the opportunity to practice on dummies. This was when I realized there was one poor soul in the class who just did not want to be there. Or maybe his wife was the poor soul for bringing him against his will. Either way, he was annoying and distracting during our CPR practice, which at least gave us a good topic of conversation for the ride home.

When giving CPR to an infant, you’re supposed to give 30 chest compressions with two fingers, then two breaths. You continue with this 30:2 pattern. The instructor asked us to count out loud as we did the compressions to ensure that we were doing everything correctly. Most of us were mature enough to count out loud but at a quiet enough volume so as not to distract others. Not Poor Soul.

He not only counted loudly; he counted out of order. And he wasn’t counting as he did the compressions; he was counting while his wife did them to try and throw her off. Brilliant.

#3. Others’ comments: I don’t really get a lot of unsolicited advice or strange/humorous comments regarding my pregnancy, but I got one earlier this week that I thought was pretty good. I was at the bank trying to leave, and a little boy was in the way. His (probably) grandfather asked him to move for the “nice lady.” He then saw I was pregnant, laughed at said, “one and a half ladies!”

I laughed and said something in agreement. I truly wasn’t offended, though, as I’ve said similar things before, too. When I have friends with kids who are also pregnant, I generally tell people they have one and a half kids or two and half, etc. However, I could see how that might offend someone. He was older though, so you gotta go with it!

Documenting the belly

I'm terrible at actually taking pictures of how I look pregnant. Mainly because I decided early on I wouldn't take pictures of my belly changing each week and post them on Facebook...totally cool if you wanna do that, it's just not my scene. Because I wasn't taking them to constantly update my "virtual following," I sort of just forgot to do it in general. I do, however, have a few pics from the journey to this point that I will now share with you. Beware, one is of a naked belly. It'll be okay, you can make it through :) On to the fun...

On the left, we have Baby Floyd at 17 weeks. This was taken about midnight after we got home from one of Andrew's company Christmas parties. I wish I had taken a picture the next morning, because my belly wasn't nearly as "pronounced" then. On the right, 28 weeks. I took this last night after I got to my brother's house in Alabama. Quite the difference...meaning, I actually look pregnant now! And yes, I am in maternity clothes. If you check out the timeline page, I finally bought a few things about two weeks ago and have been incorporating them into what I can still wear of my own clothes. 

Now let's look at me at 20ish weeks, Christmas time:

If you know my brother at all, you can probably envision the events/conversation that led up to this moment. His wife is pregnant with my nephew right now, and Jonathan claims he is gaining weight alongside Brandy. To prove this, he would often stick out his stomach and say they were having twins. Before this picture, he was teasing me that he looked more pregnant than I did. I'll let you be the judge; however, if you look at my belly at 17 weeks, then check it out again at 20 or so weeks, it sort of looks bigger at 17! (I told y'all I had a case of a disappearing belly...)

Since I'm in Birmingham right now--technically Homewood at O'Henry's--and I have the time, I'll share a few of the events of yesterday. If you read my Facebook status updates from the airports you probably got part of this, but I had several funny things happen yesterday as I made my way down the East Coast.

1) Security at Bradley in Hartford: the full body scanners were on yesterday, and I didn't even think about it. I personally have no problems with airport security--do what you gotta do to keep my plane from being blown up, I say! And to my defense, there are a TON of things you can't do/have to remember/be cautious about when you're pregnant. It's a little insane. Anywho, the first TSA man asks me if I have anything in my pockets, a belt, etc. I reply, "Nope, they're maternity pants!" I have no idea if he understood this, but they don't even have zippers.

He sends me on to the next guy, who puts his hands out to illustrate his point, right in front of my belly. He says something to the effect of, "Now ma'am, if you don't want to do this because you're pregnant, we can send you right over here." Click! Duh, a full body scanner would probably not be great. I thanked him graciously and went through the older, "maybe you could sneak something through" metal detector. The TSA man on the other side looked at my boarding pass and said, "I'm very glad you didn't go through that scanner." Such nice people in Hartford!

2) Getting my bags from security. As the TSA lady was quietly calling for back-up into her radio, I knew she was looking at my bag. I can't currently reveal the entire story, as it involves gifts for the 14 hostesses of my shower on Sunday, but basically, I had a tiny carry-on suitcase filled with a taped cardboard box, filled with heavy items. I know, this doesn't help much. Check back with me in a couple days and hopefully it'll make more sense! Another TSA lady takes my suitcase, which weighs 20 pounds, over to the table to put that weird swabby thing inside the suitcase. We have a conversation about what is actually in the box, and as she opens it she exclaims, "Well look at you! These are so pretty! You made these? How?" yadda yadda yadda. We then have a conversation about the wonders of Mod Podge and being crafty. I'm glad she was impressed with my presents; let's hope my hostesses are!

3) The winner of the most annoying Delta agent award goes to....the lady behind the counter at my gate! She totally stressed everyone out by repeatedly telling us how to load our carry-on items quickly, begging us to check a carry-on since 142 people on the plane meant not everyone could put bags overhead and constantly counting down the minutes we had left until push-back. Seriously. Shut up and smile! It's not my fault Delta only gives you 40 minutes to turn a plane around. Luckily I found a teeny tiny space for a very nice man to put my hefty carry-on of breakable goodies. I was going to put up a fight if they made me check that bag.

Both flights were a tiny bit bumpy, Baby Floyd was restless through most of them and I didn't follow my husband's instructions and put that suitcase overhead myself for my last flight. I know, I should've said something to someone, but I was trying to be efficient and quick. I got to Birmingham, had a fun dinner with my dear friend Mabes and slept well at my brother's house. Better still....I'm wearing flip flops today!!!

Second set of baby pics

We had another ultrasound on Jan. 17 so I thought I'd share those pictures. Our baby was slightly less difficult than the first ultrasound--the tech was able to get all of the images of the brain and heart she needed, and she was able to find out that our child does indeed have fingers! However, it's still a stubborn kid because we never got a really great picture of the face. The tech gave us four pictures when we left, and most of them show the face hiding behind an arm, leg or the cord. Here's what we got:

I'm not even going to try and identify what's the cord and what's a limb, but that is a nose and mouth in between the alien-looking parts :)

I think that is the cord in front of the nose...but there's an eyelid on the left, 

part of a nose and part of a mouth

Again, most of the face, but not fully!

We call this one "The Thinker." Baby Floyd can be seen in profile with a little fist under the chin. 

I thought the first three pics went really well with the last face shots we got in December, but the fourth one almost looks like a different child to me! The nose looks different--really everything. And no, pretty confident there aren't two babies in there!