The Shameless Picture Post

Yes, this will be the shameless picture post, where I dump some of my favourite photos from recently. Inspired by the flash which I pulled out yesterday. I'm wondering why I've been taking photos without our fancy flash this whole time, and despite using the nicer camera, I'm still lamenting Abigail's first few weeks of photos just like I did with Elijah. Oh well. Here's to change and improvement!

[caption id="attachment_1180" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Elijah snuggling with his Nana before bedtime. This was warning sign #1 that he was coming down with a cold...he never snuggles and falls asleep on us!"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1181" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="My dad and Jude with Abigail"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1183" align="aligncenter" width="226" caption="Abigail with Uncle Paul! Hopefully it won't be 7-8 years, like Paul said it'd be, before he's ready to settle down and consider having kids. He's so good with them!"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1185" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="I love that her eyes are blue. Elijah's were so murky and dark brown that we never really got to experience the eyes-changing-colour phenomenon"][/caption]



[caption id="attachment_1186" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Elijah's little cousin, Terrah. They're only 2.5 months apart, which sounds like it'd be fun. Except..."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1189" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="...they don't always get along. Okay, really Terrah just doesn't like Elijah playing with stuff that she finds interesting..."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1190" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="...so Terrah takes it and Elijah cries..."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1191" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="...so Terrah is told to be nice, gentle, soft, all those good words, and so she comes back at him with big hugs..."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1192" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="...and death-grip clutches that Elijah has a hard time escaping. They'll be besties some day, though!"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1193" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="I love this little guy SO much!"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1194" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="My little monster!"][/caption]

Alright, my "Little Monster" is up from his nap now, and I've spent waaaay too much time on the computer today, so I'm signing off for some snuggles.

Know Your Rights

I don't know about anyone else, but I've heard enough stories of women getting kicked out of places simply for nursing (even if they're covered!) to take notice and be prepared for the possibility that it could be me someday. It makes me so upset, because it such an essential part of life, and some people look down on it as if it's the most disgraceful thing, to nurse your child. I understand that bre.asts are a taboo subject, but if you can't think of anything else when you see a woman nursing her child, then I think that a person needs to look more inwardly, rather than blame the mother for nursing her child in front of them. But that's just me.

What also upsets me is what some mothers will do to avoid offending someone, and what women are sometimes subjected to in a bid to keep out of the public eye while nursing. For example, I have a friend who, with her first baby, would bring baby and nursing pillow to the bathroom of a restaurant, sit on the toilet, and nurse her baby. That's just...gross. I don't even want to think about putting my hands near my baby's mouth or my own nip.ple after touching who knows what in a public bathroom.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not so completely feminist about it that I walk around the mall nursing completely uncovered, and stick it to anyone who tells me to do otherwise. I think there is a happy medium to be found, and I am a big big fan of nursing covers like the ones sold by Udder Covers (who, by the way, offers you a one-time-free nursing cover if you have the right code...which you can google to get. They're great!) I'm also pretty good at knowing what to wear so that when I pull my shirt up, my entire midriff is not exposed from the side where the nursing cover doesn't cover. I'll nurse in a mother's room if it's clean and not dark and dingy, and I ask for a booth in a restaurant so that when I nurse my baby, I am tucked away in a corner, and not at a chair in the middle of the dining room.

I feel like I am very respectful about not stepping on anyone's toes as I feed my babies (plural, because I nursed Elijah for a year, and am currently nursing Abigail) so when and if the day comes that somebody complains about my doing so, I want to be prepared, and not get flustered, upset, red in the face, and beaten down. Because that's what happens when I'm faced with confrontation, and I hate it!

I've been doing some research and have printed off a screen shot, link, and excerpts from the Ontario Human Rights Commission's code (...of human rights...) I love this code, and am so glad I live in a province that spells it out so clearly. Apparently only Ontario and British Columbia have explicitly mentioned pregnancy and breastfeeding in their codes, and I think all provinces need to revise their codes to include it. I think most states in the US have a similar code, and I'm so grateful to live in a day where people stand up for human rights and equality.

Here are some of my favourite excerpts of the code:

"As noted above, pregnancy includes the post-natal period, which includes breastfeeding. Breastfeeding is a natural part of child-rearing, and so is integrally related to the ground of sex, as well as to family status. Numerous studies have demonstrated the benefits of breastfeeding for mothers, children, and their communities, in terms of physical and emotional health and development. Women should not be disadvantaged in services, accommodation or employment because they have chosen to breastfeed their children. Nor should women be harassed or subjected to negative treatment because they have chosen not to breastfeed their children. When this Policy refers to discrimination on the basis of pregnancy, it includes discrimination on the basis of breastfeeding.

Breastfeeding includes pumping or expressing milk, as well as nursing directly from the breast. Women choose to breastfeed their children for varying lengths of time, and should not be exposed to negative comments or treatment because, for example, they continue to breastfeed their toddlers.^[11]

Sometimes women are discouraged by others from breastfeeding in public places because of concerns that it is indecent. Breastfeeding is really a health issue, and not one of public decency. Women should have the choice to feed their babies in the way that they feel is most dignified, comfortable and healthy," and,

"Section 1 of the Code prohibits discrimination in “services, goods and facilities” against women who are pregnant and breastfeeding. This includes educational institutions, hospitals and health services, insurance providers, public places like malls and parks, public transit, and stores and restaurants. This means that women who are pregnant, or who are accompanied by their babies to a restaurant or a theatre, cannot be denied service or access unless there is a bona fide reason for doing so. This also means that women have a right to nurse undisturbed, and cannot be prevented from breastfeeding a child in, for example, a public area or restaurant. They also cannot be asked to move to a more “discreet” area to breastfeed a child, or to “cover up”. Complaints from other persons will not justify interfering with a woman’s right to breastfeed."

That last part is the real deal-breaker quote that I'm happy is spelled out so clearly.

I hope I never need to pull these quotes out of my diaper bag, but I'm glad that I have them just in case. I KNOW that I'd just end up getting upset and start fuming, and how are you supposed to tell someone that you can't be kicked out of somewhere without actually having proof?

The thing that kills me is that some people think it's indecent to expose children to the act of breastfeeding. Like, really? Have you walked by a lingerie store in the mall? And you think me sitting here, completely covered and nursing a baby is indecent? What really upsets people is that kids then ASK what the person is doing and, heaven forbid, a parent has to explain something that involves mentioning the word bre.ast. It drives me crazy, how parents nowadays are willing to let schools teach their children about things like se.xual education so that they don't have to have the task of talking about an awkward subject, and then get upset when they need to explain something as simple, natural, and good as BF'ing.

Rant over. :)

MW appointment

I had my first in-clinic appointment (versus a home visit appointment...) yesterday since having Abigail. It was good to go in and see Kr (who delivered Abby) but strange at the same time, being there but on "the other side."

It's funny because throughout my whole pregnancy I would go in and try to due-date-guess. At first I just assumed everyone was due before me, but after a while it got really exciting to think, or know, that I was due before someone else. I was always a little envious of women who were due before me, that they were further along in the game and would meet their babies before me. And then there were women who already had their babies, and were in there juggling the carseat, diaper bag, binder, and baby, all while trying to nurse. For them, I'd try to think of what that baby's birthday was, how their birth experience went, how they're doing recovery-wise. I admit, I also tried to gauge how tired and frazzled these moms of new babies were. I loved seeing the women who were put together and doing it like a pro, and hoped to be one of those women (so naive, because I know now that it had nothing to do with them and everything to do with the fact that a/being a new mom is hard, and b/you have no control over your recovery process, and recovery can affect pretty much ever facet of your life.)

Anyway, it excited me so much to think that someday I'd be one of the moms on the other side, who could wear the "been there, done that" t-shirt (figuratively, of course!)

And so when yesterday came, I was pretty excited. But do you know what the predominant feeling I had was?

SADNESS, of all things! I missed having the doppler put to my belly, hearing Abigail's heart beating, laughing as we saw her kick outwards from inside my belly, having next appointments and ultrasounds booked, talking about game plans.

I realized that it was so much simpler then, as plans always are in comparison to reality.

And of course, there was the sadness that I've already mentioned, that comes with knowing my time at the midwives' is drawing to a (rather rapid) close. It makes me really excited for when I'm pregnant again, and I know that will be a joyful time. In the meantime, though, I need to remind myself that pregnancy is a just a means to a beautiful end.

No, I can't feel Abigail kicking inside of me, but I can see her stretch with her arms over her head and her face scrunched up. I can watch as she tucks her knees to her chest whenever she is picked up and held against someone's chest. I can enjoy the thrill of her holding my finger tight while nursing.

No, I don't use a doppler to hear her heartbeat, but I recently discovered how amazing it is to put my head against her chest, listen to her heart that way, and marvel that it is the exact same heartbeat that I was hearing before. I haven't lost that at all, I've just gained and new and more exciting way of listening to it.

And things really are beautiful and good, so I need to turn my focus elsewhere, or else it's going to be hard to wait the 1.5-2 years to try again (well, 1yr. and 9mos. is my preference, but since when did people actually manage to have a say in these things? ;) )

So anyway, my appointment with Abigail.

We got talking so much about Abby that I never really got checked over, although KR did ask a few questions, such as, "How are you feeling," (great!) "How is your bleeding doing?" (slowed down, nothing overnight now, very minimal during the day) "Are you going to the bathroom okay?" (yep!) "Are your nip.ples sore at all?" (nope!) and "How do your stitches feel?" (I can't even tell they're there, they haven't hurt for a while!)

So maybe that's why I didn't get checked. Things are just...great. I jogged across the parking lot yesterday (it was raining) and half-way to the car I thought, "Hey, I'm jogging!" And then at our ward's Halloween activity I was trying to get Elijah to come to me so I squatted down, and while I was squatting I thought, "What the heck?! I hurt myself squatting down 2 MONTHS after having Elijah! I didn't even realize I was squatting this time, and I'm still not hurting!" And today the squatting still hasn't affected me, so I'd say that's doing well too. SO weird, having recovery go so well when with Elijah it was bad. The thing is, though, I didn't know I had a bad recovery with Eli until now, I thought it would be like that every time. SO glad it's not the case.

Abigail is doing well, too, although not quite as well as her mommy. She's still gaining a sufficient amount of weight (up to 10lb 3.5 oz, so an increase of 5.5oz in 9 days) but considering how well she was going before, Kr was a little disappointed, and is suggesting not letting her go two 4-hour stretches at night now. Before we weighed her she said it was fine, but afterwards she did suggest waking Abby to feed 2-3 hours after the 1st 4-hour stretch. I did so last night, and I'm hoping it helps and that this is not something to worry about. We've been doing so well with nursing (so I thought) and it kindof scares me to think that she might not be getting enough and that I had no clue. Am I taking how well things are going for granted? I don't know. It's so minor at this point that I really don't have a place to worry considering what others have to go through, but I'm still concerned that it's a slippery slope towards a diminished and insufficient milk supply.

So the solution is to do what Kr suggested and come back in 1 week rather than 2 to have Abigail weighed again. And maybe have my stitches looked at and removed if needs be.

So that's where we stand baby-wise.

Other than that, I've just been busy not being busy. I'm working on a crocheted hat for Abby, and I'm trying out the cream of carrot soup tonight. We'll see how that goes. I still have 5 loads of laundry to fold (since Saturday...haha) but I've been pretty busy every day, and haven't had a chance to do it. Except for in my free time, which I use to crochet. ;) I'm home tonight, though, so we'll see if Matt can hold the fort for an hour while I sort out the laundry situation.

And I just realized I started rattling off my chores, and you know a post has become boring when I make plans for my husband to hold the fort while I fold laundry..... ;)

Lonely!

Matt has been at work all day. He left on time, and there wasn't even any pouting!

The world has not come to an end, both babies are alive and well, the house isn't even that messy. I don't feel overwhelmed, I know I am capable of taking care of two babies, I'm not worried about them both crying at the same time, and I'm not stressed about accomplishing 100 things and being the supermom, wonder-wife, and all that impressive stuff.

The only hitch in everything to do with Matt being at work and me being home?

I am so lonely!

Over the last 2.5 weeks I've really become accustomed to having constant company. Like, to the point where it's only been just over 3 hours since getting home from being out with my MIL, and I'm still feeling lonely. I was fully prepared to go shopping alone with 2 kids this morning, but I wanted her along just for the company.

You know, being lonely is a pretty good thing to feel, though. It's more easily overcome than other feelings I could have (and DID feel after I had Elijah and Matt went back to work then.) I can venture out to the local early years centre, go visit Farrah or Wendy, maybe even brave the library with a toddler for their wee wiggles program. It's definitely do-able, or at least it will be once I'm more relaxed about bringing Abigail out to more public places. I look forward to not being so worried about that.

Which reminds me, I need to book her 2-month shot appointment and get the flu shot.

Anyway, I've got to pack up the diaper bag so that we're ready to go once Matt gets home. It's haircut/dinner out night! AND out first real FHE with Elijah (because we've been too lazy to do them with a baby who is now more toddler than baby...) so we have a busy night ahead of us. Yay!

Bacon chowder

I realized this past week, after reading some of my old blog posts, that I used to write about more than just baby stuff. Maybe because it was a family blog, maybe because I didn't have any babies yet (Elijah was still in my belly then) but whatever the reason, I wrote about more. I thought at the time that it was boring, and maybe it WAS to those who read it, but I actually enjoy reading back on those posts, seeing what I was doing then, and remembering more to Matt's and my life together than babies.

So, here is a completely un-baby post. It's my favourite soup recipe right now, but that'll change in a few weeks, I'm sure. I love soups! It's the one thing I'm really good at cooking for dinner. For some reason, I have a knack for picking out a good recipe. I'm hoping to try a cream of carrot recipe this week. We'll see.

In the meantime, Bacon Chowder!

Ingredients:

• 1 package of bacon (or 10 slices)


• diced celery


• diced onion


• 1 can sliced or diced potatoes


• 1 can cream of mushroom soup


•  1 can cream corn


• 2 packages of powdered chicken bouillon


• 2 1/2 c. milk

Directions: 

• In a soup pot, cook bacon until crisp. Remove from pot, but leave grease in. Add celery and onion to pot and cook through. Remove celery and onion from pot and drain the grease.
  


• Put bacon, celery and onion back in pot and add remaining ingredients. Heat through.
  

Aaaand now my font is a smaller size. NO clue how that happened! I've been using Wordpress for months, and I've never had this problem, nor have I ever tried to resize the font, and now I realize that I don't know how. Oh well. Wonky post coming right up.

But yeah! That's the soup. It's super easy, and really tasty, especially on a cool autumn day like today.

And a funny story to go with the soup! I got the recipe from my MIL, who has been making it for years. She was introduced to it as a newly-married woman, when she, dad, and dad's parents went to a friend's for dinner, and the friend made this soup. Mom wanted the recipe, and the woman had written it out already for Matt's grandma, so mom said she'd just get the recipe from Grandma G. Well, when Grandma G wrote out this recipe, what did she write as the title? Grandma G's Bacon Chowder! I laugh to myself every time I think about this story. Grandma G. doesn't seem to have any recollection of this highly amusing recipe-swap, and whenever the soup is mentioned, she says, "Oh yeah, I gave you that recipe," or something along those lines. Hahaha...

Today I decided to sign up for AllRecipes.com so that I could bookmark recipes I want to try later. Maybe it'll motivate me to make dinner more often!

Matt goes back to work tomorrow (I won't mention babies much, I promise!) and while I'm a little anxious about it, I'm also looking forward to life becoming more normal. It's like when we were on our honeymoon, and having a GREAT time, but were excited to go home and just live life together. I'm feeling that excitement, believe it or not. I want life to get easier, I know it WILL get easier with two babies, and I want to get to that point.

So one thing I've decided to do, to discipline myself to getting things done regardless of the busy-ness that is having two kids now, I've decided to have a task a day that I MUST get done. It isn't anything huge, it might be making dinner (which I don't usually do...) or folding 5 loads of laundry (tomorrow's task.) I'll have to report on how well this actually goes, especially once we've had a bad day.

Gotta go, Abby is spitting up. SAD!

Two Weeks

It is so hard to believe that it's been two weeks since Abigail was born. It feels like time is going by so quickly, and yet it also feels as though she's been part of our family forever. Being pregnant and our labour and delivery experience is seeming more and more distant, and parts of it are taking on this fuzziness, where my memory of it is dimmed and made better. Like stitches! And tearing! I'm beginning to really miss being pregnant and to feel excited to do it all again in the future (hopefully! But not for a little while yet...) but I'm turning my sights to something even better - our sweet little pudgy princess, Abby.

I am happy to say that her days and nights seem to be corrected. We've had 4 nights in a row of no real wakeful periods at night, and while she usually sleeps noisily for 2-3 hours, crying occasionally, I'll take it over the 5-7 hours of wakeful period cutting into the night. Now that period is during the day, and life is different, having her awake, asleep, gassy, fussy, repeat 100 times, when we're not trying to sleep. Better, of course! But it presents its own challenges, like taking care of Elijah when Abigail is constantly demanding attention, or really getting anything done that doesn't involve holding her. I can't wait until she'll fit in the Ergo, so I can do stuff with my hands free more, but in the meantime, I just remind myself that this period does NOT last forever, and to not wish it away so quickly.

And wow, I'm starting to sound like a broken record, huh? All I seem to post about is sleep (or lack thereof...) how nursing is going and how Abigail has changed our lives, blah blah blah! It's all true, but often I don't realize that something I'm saying now I already said the other day. Sorry about that.

Here's something unrelated. We were cleaning up some papers around the computer, and I found a to-do list of things that we absolutely HAD TO get done before the baby came. It was funny to me, reading it and seeing how unimportant so many things were, and how many things actually got done versus what my nesting instinct was trying to accomplish.

So without further ado, here is the list, with whether or not I did it in brackets:

- get laundry done (nope)
- clear off stairs (yep, I figured it'd be important to have clutter-free stairs for all those times I'd want to go up and down them to help encourage labour along...HA!)
-Holly talk with "birth companions" (nope, or not really. I talked with Matt about what I wanted in labour, and Farrah as well, but no-one else who I had planned on having there. And that's okay, because none of them made it in time anyway!)
- hospital bag packed (NOPE, I just couldn't muster the energy to pack it, and by my due date I figured that if we went to the hospital, I'd have enough warning, and just throw it together when I was in labour.)
-upstairs fridge cleared out (nope, and it didn't matter. I thought we'd use it for drinks, etc, when everyone was here and I was labouring upstairs, which was where I was planning on delivering, but that fell through the cracks!)
-bathrooms cleaned (nope, they were done a week before I had Abigail, so not too shabby, but still.)
-rocking chair brought in from the house (nope, and it hasn't mattered, it's here now, and I haven't used it once to nurse.)

Maybe I just found the list amusing today because I only did 1 out of 7 things on the list! And none of it mattered in the end. It's funny what seems important to our nesting, pregnant minds, and what is important in reality. And it's funny how little we (usually...) actually need to give birth versus how much we prepare. With Elijah I brought SO much to the hospital, and used about 5% of it. And what did I forget? Clothes for Matt. That would've been useful, but no. I remembered slippers for me! and 3 pairs of socks! But nothing for my husband.

And speaking of Matt, I need to go. I promised I'd be ready for us to start our movie in a few minutes, and those few have already dragged out to 10. Oops!

Life with baby

Not too much has been going on in our neck of the woods lately, but I wanted to post anyway. It's strange to me, that I'll have a hard time remembering this time with a newborn baby a few months down the road. A part of me feels like it's okay to let that memory fade a little, and another part feels like it's sad, because this is such a precious time with our new baby.

My MW visited on Monday and Abigail was then up to 9lb 14oz, so a gain of 8oz in 5 days. She's doing well, and I don't see the midwives until an in-clinic appointment next Wednesday. I'm seeing Kr (the MW who delivered Abigail) and I'm glad I'll see her at least once more before I'm discharged. I don't know how many appointments I have left, but I'm guessing I only have a couple after next week's appointment. It's weird to me, knowing that my time left seeing the midwives is so limited. Before I went into labour, the number of appointments and ultrasounds I had left was rather unclear. I was going to have an u/s a week overdue and 11 days overdue, and an indefinite number of stretch and sweeps until the baby came along, but then she did come and all the other things were canceled, and now my days are numbered.

It makes me sad in a way, because the only time I ever see these wonderful women is when I'm expecting a baby, and then I get discharged and have to go on my way on my own. I know it's a lot more support than many people have post-partum, and I do like my family doctor, but there is something so inaccessible about my doctor compared to the midwives' clinic, where the receptionist knows me by name and where I can call and have questions answered without feeling like I'm using up some doctor's time.

On the other hand, it's exciting to know that life with Abigail is beginning, and that we don't need the help of the midwives forever. The rest of our lives feels open to us, and that's a thrilling feeling.

I was also thinking today about how it's rather exciting to live life on this side of my pregnancy. I'm looking forward to working out soon and losing weight. With Elijah, I started my pregnancy at 155, gained up to 193, lost down to 158 post-baby, and then gained weight over the next year so that (...I'm ashamed to admit...) I was 175lb's a year later, when I learned I was pregnant with Abigail. I am now down below 175 (okay, so it's only 174.6...but still!) and it's only 11 days post-partum. I'm so glad to be down to where I started at least (this time I gained up to 205lb's) but now I want to work on at least getting down to the 150's again.

Unfortunately, it's getting cold around here and it'll be impossible to jog throughout winter, which is what I want to do. Last November/December when Matt and I were going to the gym regularly, I really enjoyed doing zumba, so I'm buying a bunch of dvd's to work on that at home throughout the winter, and I'll start jogging in the spring. I feel so motivated to do this now that I actually can.

I know this all probably sounds like I couldn't wait for pregnancy to be over so that I could lose weight, but that isn't the feeling I have at all. See, today I was reading a journal where I recorded 101 things I wanted to accomplish in 1001 days. I started it in April of 2010, and I have until sometime in January of 2013. I like looking at it now and then for direction, or as a reminder of things I could be doing with my time. However, when I looked at it throughout the summer I felt like so many of the things that I wanted to do I couldn't actually do at the time. Today when I read it I had a completely different feeling. It was one of excitement - excitement to go for a hike with my family, carve a pumpkin with Elijah, build a blanket fort with him, go to a waterpark next summer. Sure, I don't have time to learn photoshop or how to sew, practice the piano, or make jam, but I still have this feeling that the world is open to me, whereas in the summer and leading up to my due date, I felt so physically limited and that I could barely take care of Elijah, let alone do all these things.

So yes, I'm excited to work out, to do zumba and watch Elijah try to do it too, and to look as good as I feel right now. :)

(Abigail's sleep patterns, bum dimple, etc)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had to get off the computer quickly yesterday but I still had more to say, so I'm finishing it the next day (Thursday.) :-)

Today Abigail has an appointment at the pediatrician's. We're going to go talk to the doctor about her bum dimple that she was born with, and discuss preliminary investigations into spina bifida. Scary sounding stuff, right? I'm not worried at this point about it, but it does feel rather weird. This is something we dealt with with Elijah, and I never really expected it to extend beyond him....words aren't really coming to my mind to express this feeling, but part of me feels like he should be there, he should come, because this was HIS problem, not Abigail's.

I guess some backstory is needed (although you can read about it here and here if you want.) Elijah was born with a bum dimple, and the MW's noted it but told me to not worry about it. In most cases, it means nothing. We were referred to the pediatrician because Elijah was born with a couple cephalohematomas (fluid bumps that went away within a month) and the doctor saw the dimple and decided to look into it. Thus began about 7 months of investigations that involved bloodwork, an ultrasound, and eventually an MRI where he was put under general anesthesia, and I almost died from not nursing him for 9 hours straight. In the end we learned that Elijah does have spina bifida, but it's pretty much the least severe form you could ever have. His neural root is completely encased in his spine, but a few of the vertebrae have rounded off tips (I really don't know the medical terms...sorry!) It'd make more sense if you saw a drawing of it all.

Anyway, when Abigail was born, I jokingly asked if she had a bum dimple, and it turns out that she does. Again the MW's said it's not a big deal, but I said, "Except, in Elijah's case it actually DID indicate something, so I'd really like to look into this."

So off we go to the pediatrician's today, to begin the same investigations, and hopefully come to the same conclusion, that it won't affect her throughout her life. I'm a little anxious for her sake, I know it wasn't fun for Elijah to be poked and prodded, and it was a little emotional for Matt and I, seeing our baby unconscious from anesthesia, and to walk away and leave him in the doctor's care for even a few hours for the MRI, but I don't think not doing it is an option for us. What if she does have spina bifida? And what if it's more severe than Elijah's type? We did the NT scan and bloodwork, so I feel reassured, at least, that it wouldn't be too debilitating a form, as the bloodwork would have picked up increased AFP levels, but it'd still be good to know if she has it or not.

I'm not scared or upset about it, mostly because I know Elijah's form is so mild as to not ever affect him, but still. It's something I never expected to go through again, and really makes me wonder if it's genetic like some people propose. And if it IS genetic, will all of our children have this dimple and/or whatever it indicates? Who knows.

Apart from that excitement, we've just been trying to get Abigail's days and nights sorted out. I can't recall if I mentioned it before, but since day 1 Abigail's main wakeful period has been at night, and it only became more so as the days progressed and she was awake longer. It was to the point where, one day she slept from 9am until 8pm, only waking up to feed, and then was up for 5 hours at night. My midwife suggested feeding her every 2 hours during the day and cluster feeding her from 8-10 at night so that she is hopefully nice and full for bedtime, and sleeps lots. It really didn't work, though, and we were at our wits' end at times, especially the time she'd been awake until 3am. We started taking the night in shifts, but that couldn't last forever as Matthew goes back to work on Monday.

And then the other night I decided to try swaddling her with this Kiddopotamus swaddler, and within seconds she was asleep, and then slept for 4 hours! It was like heaven, except that I hate swaddling, and was resolved to never do it. I guess every kid has their crutch, though, and Abigails so clearly is swaddling. She loves it, without ever needing to get used to it, just like how Elijah loved soothers without ever needing to learn how to use one and what they're for.

So for 2 nights it worked well, and she fell asleep by 12:30, and slept the rest of the night (except for the 2 times she woke up to feed.) Then last night, we had our best night yet! She fell asleep around 11pm (when we went down to bed) woke up at 3:15 to feed, and then woke up at 7:15 to feed again! Part of me feels guilty for letting her go for two 4-hour stretches, but another part of me knows we all just needed the sleep.

So yeah, that's been fun. It's hard to remember in the moment that it doesn't last forever, but already she is 12 days old. In a couple days her age will be counted in weeks, and I'm sad that she's getting so big so fast! By the time she hits a month, we'll be seasoned pros, and she won't be considered a newborn anymore. It's amazing how time goes by so quickly. I already forget what it's like to feel her bouncing on my cervix and pushing on my diaphragm, and what my tummy looks and feels like when it's stretched out with baby.

Anyway, I need to finish this, as we leave in 15 minutes for the doctor's and I haven't finished getting ready. I know there won't be much to report from today's appointment (spina bifida-wise anyway) but I'll put up an update to this post if there is anything I want to add later. :)

**Update**  Dr. A is sending Abby for an u/s, but doesn't think it's as fishy looking as Elijah's, as he thinks he can see the bottom of her dimple, whereas we couldn't with Elijah's. Which reminded me that the only reason he had the MRI was to see if there WAS a bottom to Elijah's, or if it was connected to his neural root, in which case the connection would have had to be severed. So, if they can see the bottom of Abby's dimple, then they wouldn't worry about the MRI and so on down the road.

Empowered, Part 2

I re-read my previous post yesterday, and realized that it doesn't come remotely close to what I was thinking and feeling, so this is my attempt to continue it and explain my thoughts.

First, I'll just say that, yes, I feel empowered from my birth experience with Abigail. It's hard not to when you plan an unmedicated homebirth and get one, while being surrounded by people who know, love and support you. At the same time, I know that I was simply so greatly blessed to have circumstances work in my favour. If things hadn't gone as flawlessly as they had, I know things would have felt much different, and I would not be sitting here feeling empowered. For instance, I shudder to think what would have happened if Abigail's cord was wrapped around her neck. Matt wouldn't have known to not let me push her body out before he could hook the cord over her head, and she was born before Kr could have done anything.

Mostly I try to not think of these things, because in the end, things happened the way they did for a reason. I am so grateful to Heavenly Father for His protection throughout the experience, and I feel humbled to have had that experience at all. When I was talking about feeling empowered, I in no way wanted to sound like it was all because I was so awesome that we had things go as they did. Quite the contrary, actually!

Yes, I had a 'natural' homebirth, but part of me feels like that had nothing to do with me (especially when it'd have been that way, whether I planned it or not!) I feel great that it happened, but I feel humbled because I see Heavenly Father's hand in my planning of it all, and having midwives in the first place. If I hadn't planned to have midwives, I wouldn't have waited around at home. I might have tried driving to the hospital and had Abigail in the car. I definitely would have had 911 involved, and been rushed via ambulance to the hospital. We wouldn't have had the homebirth supplies already gathered, and we wouldn't have known who to call or what to do when things got scary.

Then with nursing, I know things are going well, but I feel like nursing successfully is so much a matter of chance. My body produces breastmilk, and Abigail latches well, but how much of that do I have control over?

I guess when it comes down to it, I look at my experiences and I recognize enormous blessings from Heavenly Father. I need to give credit where credit is due, and not take it all for myself as if I'M the one responsible for it all. That's why I said that I could feel empowered if I really examined my birth with Elijah and look at it from a different perspective. His wasn't a natural homebirth like I'd planned, but I experienced the miracle of adding a child to my family. That is a miracle no matter how it happens, and an enormous blessing. Who am I to dictate the manner in which it happens, as if one way is superior, or as if it's best if things go as I plan them?

So yes, I feel empowered, and it's easy to because things DID go (roughly, minus The 15 Minutes of Chaos) as I planned, but what I realized was that I could feel empowered if I allowed myself to and if I recognized and appreciated the blessings Heavenly Father had given me, instead of focusing on what I didn't have.

And then I started thinking about infertility, because that's just where my mind goes when I think about having children and being blessed by Heavenly Father. I started thinking about the many ways that infertility removes those feelings of empowerment, and makes you feel defected, like there's something "wrong" with you. I mean, is that feeling really any different from my MW making me feel like I was labouring "wrong" with Elijah, and that I would have a better outcome if I could just do things "right?"

While going through fertility testing I would often wonder if there was something we had done or failed to do that made our bodies such that we couldn't conceive on our own. I picked apart my childhood and Matt's, analyzing where we lived, what water we drank, etc. I looked at every little wrong I had done, and tried to figure out if we were being punished by Heavenly Father for some misdeed in the past. I tortured myself with these thoughts, and felt so abandoned and powerless to do anything about our situation.

It took a lot of time for me to come to terms with our trial and to see it as something we had been called upon to experience, and to see that there were things to be learned throughout it, but as I realized this, a feeling of empowerment started to grow within me. I stopped seeing our trial as something wrong, and began seeing it as something right and good in our lives. Of course it was still hard to let go of the idea of conceiving a biological child, but I began looking at adoption as a beautiful method of building our family, of providing one of Heavenly Father's children with a good, loving home with the Gospel and parents who loved each other and honoured the covenants they had made. I was so excited to adopt! I then found out I was pregnant with Elijah, and that became the new normal, the new, so-this-is-what-Heavenly-Father-wants-for-us plan. I feel like I have been blessed with feeling empowered just as I had been blessed with going through the process of adoption, pregnancy, being a mother to Elijah, and now Abigail. Everything I have has been given me by Heavenly Father, and that makes me feel so humbled.

So, going back to my comparison of the two birth experiences. They were SO different, and one left me feeling crummy and dissatisfied while the other left me feeling amazing and good about myself. What I've been realizing lately is that, after having Elijah I was focusing so much on my disappointments and unrealized hopes for the birth of my son, and not enough on the miracle we had been given. It makes me feel a bit like an ingrate to realize that, and brings me back to the early days of infertility when I had a hard time reconciling my hopes, dreams and expectations with reality. This time, I feel like I have been handed this experience, and I feel rather unworthy of it. How have I blessed to have things go so well, when I don't feel too fundamentally different? I wanted the same thing, I even felt like a failure at the end (in transition) when it seemed that I couldn't do it anymore and was going to give in and have an epidural like with Elijah.

I don't understand why Heavenly Father blesses us with the experiences that we have, especially when we are so often unworthy of them, but I can feel that I'm a different person than before Abigail came along. I know that I have learned, that I have grown, and maybe that's the point of it all.

Anyway, I'm starting to get tired again, and I have 2 sleeping babies for the moment, so I'm going to make use of this time and sleep too. I hope this has been coherent enough to convey how I'm really feeling, and that it hasn't come across as bald as I feel it has! It's an improvement, at least, from my previous post, which did so little to express what I was feeling during that contemplative drive home on Sunday.

On feeling empowered

First off, I just got home from my first Sunday at church since Abigail was born. She's only 8 days old, so I feel pretty good about even going. I'm glad my body held up well enough for me to go, as I really wanted to get out of the house. It was my first time driving myself anywhere, and it admittedly felt different, knowing that I had two babies in the car...my precious cargo!

I was planning on playing it by ear, how long I stayed, and after sacrament meeting I was feeling pretty good! That is, until I walked down a long hallway and got stopped every few feet by someone who wanted to congratulate me and see Abigail. I loved that people wanted to see her, but it really hurt to just stand in one place for so long, talking with people. By the time I finally made it back to the chapel and sat down (skipping Sunday School...**gasp**) my pelvic floor muscles were killing me. I talked with a couple friends and waited around for a bit, deciding what to do. I wanted to go to RS, but at the same time I didn't. I take attendance during that hour, and I was dreading walking the halls again, seeing who was in Primary/Young Women. So in the end I decided to just go home and rest, and let my muscles recuperate a little more. I've spent most of the week sitting, so extensive walking and sitting in uncomfy seats just aren't my thing right now. Hopefully by next week I'll feel 100% (or something close to it!) and won't have any problems on that head.

And may I just say, while I'm on the topic, how many people have colds this time of year?! Everyone sounded like they were hacking up a lung, and I was feeling pretty anxious by the end of the meeting. I don't think I'm generally a germophobe, but I was worried that, even in her carseat, people would lean forwards and breathe on Abigail! Of all things! Okay, so I'm being silly about it now, but it really was starting to worry me a little. 8 days old is so young still! And with my wild imagination combined with completely irrational fears and a tendency towards anxiety and depression, I just couldn't get out of the building fast enough. Well, that's a complete exaggeration. I just...was not sad to go.

So I came home early, and Matt and Elijah will follow in a bit.

While I was on the drive home, I was thinking about my MW's account of driving down my street at 5-something in the morning, going nearly 100km/h over the speed limit to get to the birth in time. It made me recall some words she said to me that morning, and the feelings I had when I heard her say it. She told me that I had done a great job, and that I showed amazing control, and should be proud of myself. I was still too much in shock to feel proud of myself the day I gave birth to Abigail, but I've had some time to reflect on it all since then.

The part that stands out to me is, "amazing control." What does that mean anyway? Does it mean I did well, coping through labour until it was time to push? Does it mean I did well in not delivering the baby sooner? I think what she meant, when she said it, was that it was pretty impressive that, even though the baby was crowning for almost 15 minutes, I still managed to will myself to not push. My body still pushed occasionally, but even then, I was able to hold it back enough to last that long. And when I think about that, I realize that I really DID show amazing control.

So I was thinking about this, and then my thoughts moved on to the experience in general. I started asking myself, "Why is it that I feel so empowered right now, from my entire experience with labour, delivery, and taking care of Abigail afterwards? And why didn't I feel empowered with Elijah?"

As far as first-time labour and deliveries go, Elijah's was a pretty good one. 12 hours of active labour, 45 minutes of pushing, an epidural which did not have to be augmented with forceps, the vacuum, episiotomies, or a c-section, a healthy baby who cried right away and was put to breast within an hour of being born. I mean, the experience, when listed like that, is more than many people could hope for, and seems rather envious in some lights. It makes me feel guilty, knowing I was unsatisfied with it, when I think about my sister who had two 38+ hour labours that resulted in c-sections, which have given rise to other complications with her body. At the same time, though, something was missing from my experience, and I left it feeling sad and...well, unempowered (which may or may not be a real word. Spell check is trying to tell me it's not, but you get what I mean!)

This time is so glaringly different that I can't help but reflect on the disparity between the two experiences.

My MW with Elijah kept saying things like, "Don't scream," "You're sounding panicky, you need to relax," "You're feeling nauseous because you're not relaxing," and even came to me at one point after I'd had the epidural and said, "What are you screaming about?" That might not sound like much on the surface, but the fact was the my epidural had worn off and I was feeling immense pressure and pain in my pelvic floor, and she picked a very condescending way of finding out what was wrong with me. In short, her tone with me, throughout it all, was very much that I was doing something "wrong" which in turn made me feel like I couldn't handle things and was a big baby. I had planned a homebirth then too, and had felt very much like I just wasn't tough enough to cope on my own at home, and that even pain meds didn't help a big baby like me. I felt like a failure for so many reasons, when the only thing that had gone differently was going to the hospital for an epidural, which is SO not a crime or a big deal! Like I said before, my experience was actually a good one in comparison with many other women..it just wasn't to me.

Conversely, with Abigail's birth, Matt was pushing on my back through contractions and telling me how amazingly I was doing, how beautiful I was, etc. With Elijah's birth, I didn't want him touching me, and I was upset and not coping well, so he felt rather like he didn't know what to say or do, so I didn't have that support from him. It felt so nice to hear such loving words, and to feel like I could do it because he was there telling me that I WAS doing it. Then there was the moment in the bathtub where I felt like I was a failure because I wanted the hospital and pain meds again, but in hindsight I was in transition labour, so to me, it's impressive that I made it that far without feeling that way. Go me! Then, there was the pure insanity that was the 15 minutes of Abigail crowning and trying to hard to NOT have her before my MW got there. I already said beforehand how Kr's words made me feel empowered, and hearing repeatedly from them that I did great, Abigail was healthy, I showed amazing control, etc etc, made a world of a difference to me.

The MW attending Kr was kinder than the one who attended the MW at Elijah's birth. That midwife had been all business and, "We've GOT to do this," which needed to be the case, as I was hemorrhaging and didn't know it. I should be able to look past this, but I still felt at the time that I was being quashed. Then when she tried to help me nurse Elijah for the first time, I really only successfully had him latch when she did it for me. Then they went away for the night, Elijah's latch was terrible and did damage, I was in so much pain when nursing that we committed the unthinkable and supplemented with formula (oh the horror!!) which Elijah puked up anyway, and by the end of our first 12 hours, I felt like a failure yet again.

This time though? I knew what a good latch looked like. I latched Abby on myself, and apart from the on MW showing me how to pull her jaw down more, I've been doing it on my own since. She's gaining weight like a champ, my nipples no longer hurt when nursing, and once more I feel empowered.

Again, there's the whole discrepancy between the two, where I'm being hard on myself and shouldn't be. In the end, things got better with Elijah and he was exclusively breastfed for a year (well, really 6 months, when we started introducing solids.) So why the unempowered feelings? I think it just comes down to my own insecurities when doing it on my own, but it's amazing what a difference my opinion of myself makes.

I'm making this waaaaaaaaay longer than it needs to be, I'm sorry! I know I'm rambling horribly.

All I'm trying to get at is, I'm so grateful for this experience with Abigail, and that it has been good and left me feeling empowered. I feel so sad inside, thinking about how I might have felt empowered with Elijah and didn't, but really a lot of it comes down to my ability to look at what I actually did (and not failed to do) and give myself credit for it. And when I put it that way, does it really matter that, at the time, I didn't feel empowered then? I can look at my experience with Elijah and feel good about it NOW.

Anyway, I have so many thoughts swirling around my head on this topic, but they are just not coming out coherently enough for me to keep on writing about it. I guess the conclusion that I've come to is, feel good about your accomplishments (eg-We've been nursing for a week! YEAH! Or, I got more sleep last night than the night before! Woo hoo!) and cast off the negative things (eg-I wanted to quit nursing Elijah after 6 months, and only kept doing it because he wouldn't wean... Or, I don't know. Anything! Haha)

And now I should sleep, because I'm starting to really feel the pelvic floor muscle pain, and Matt and Elijah will be home within the next 25-30 minutes, and I promised Matt I'd nap.

Remember, Holly, Remember...

...that being pregnant is tough.

First of all, there's the uncertainty of the first trimester. It's agonizing, to be honest. Exciting, yes, each week is kind of a big deal, but the constant worry that it'll all fall through your fingertips? The worry that, despite everything pointing towards a healthy baby, you might miscarry? It's hard. Okay, so telling people you're pregnant is exciting, but then there's the fact that people think you're further along than you are or that you're having twins (especially if you decide to not lose weight before getting pregnant...) not to mention constantly being asked how you're feeling. Without being pregnant, the attention is completely on Elijah and Abigail. No-one cares how you're feeling and recovering because they are so enamored with the cuteness of your beautiful children.

And while we're on the topic of the first trimester, you had better not forget how nauseous you felt with Abigail. Like, cucumber and cheese at 10:30pm? Just because you were going to puke if you didn't eat something? I know even writing that sounds like it'd be fun to do, but IT WAS NOT FUN! And not even having an appetite for pizza, wings, and chocolate cake? What the crap is up with that?

And vitamins. Ohhh the vitamins, and how annoying they are to remember to take. Especially once you're low on iron, and have to take 3 a day (or else feel the guilt of not taking them. Take your pick.) Also, with the iron, there's timing your meals so that you don't take the pills when you've just had dairy. SO annoying. And the effects of being low on iron? Yeah, NOT SO FUN! Short of breath, occasionally dizzy, heart palpitations, always tired.

And remember those times when Abigail would slow your digestion down so much that your stomach wouldn't empty, and you'd have a lovely day of sulphur burps, where your burps smell worse than Matt's worst farts? And you'd be embarrassed to just burp around anyone? And you actually had to burp more than normal, because it was causing all this gas? In a word, awful. I mean, sure you didn't get this with Elijah, but are you really going to even try to lose weight before getting pregnant next time? Because if you lose weight you miiiiight not get the sulphur burps, but it's really no guarantee.

Sciatic pain. Don't even get me started on this one. All I'll say is, remember waking up every 30 minutes to roll over when you were pregnant with Elijah? Awful. And then, because you decided it'd be great to get pregnant before toning your stomach muscles, you started experiencing sciatic pain at 10 weeks with Abigail!

Oh, and those pelvic floor muscles. Don't you dare forget how it hurt to go to the bathroom every time you sat on the toilet, from about 10 weeks on with Abigail. Maybe you should think of working on those kegel exercises before getting pregnant next time...

And the pregnancy stuffy nose sucked with both Elijah and Abigail! With Elijah it would get to the point where, you'd roll over at night because of your back, and then it'd take 5 minutes for your nose to clear so that you could breathe out of the free nostril, and then with Abigail everything just got dry and stuffy so that you couldn't breathe out of your nose until you'd picked it, because it was all just too dry to blow.

And water retention! By the end of Elijah's pregnancy you only had some size 10 sneakers and a pair of black shoes to wear, and neither of those fit by the end of Abigail's pregnacy because your feet swelled again, and had remained big from Elijah! Soooo you were left hoping and praying that you solitary pair of white, 2-season old flip flops from Garage would hold out until October.

And while we're on the topic of water retention, need I remind you of how much your nerves hurt? Just to touch your legs or feet was agony, feeling like your limbs were covered in black and purple bruises, and when Elijah stepped on your feet or kicked your leg (even by accident!) you would yelp in pain.

And here's where we get to the crux of the matter. When you were pregnant with Abigail, it was so hard to take care of Elijah. Sure, he got the essentials, like food, conversation, and a good snuggle now and then, but you couldn't take him to the park and chase him. You couldn't toss him in the air. You couldn't hold him at the phone or light switches. You could barely get on the floor to change his diaper. You couldn't lean over the tub to give him a bath. Remember how it broke your heart, knowing he wanted something you couldn't give him? Like the energy to do something more with him than sit around all day? How you wished you had the energy to take him to Zooz, the park, Cheeky Monkey's, etc? Or even just to go for a walk, or let him play outside. And bike rides! You were just too big and pregnant to go for a decent bikeride, and so you missed out on the whole summer! Sad!

And then there are the household things you couldn't do. Stand around and fold laundry, or do dishes, or make dinner? Forget about it! You could do a third of ONE of those tasks, but not all!

And for Matthew's sake, let's not forget the hormones. The irrationality, the nesting combined with things not happening fast enough combined with the worry, fear and anxiety. It's just...not fun. Matt always said that it'd all be better once you had the baby, and he was totally right, but you were too riled up to admit it, and thought he was saying something truly insulting, by not validating your feelings (**tear, tear, sniff sniff**)

So all of that? That's just how difficult it'd be to be pregnant again, except it's not. It's how difficult it was with 1 child, or no children. Imagine now, if you will, what it'd be like to be pregnant and have both Elijah AND Abigail to take care of, to feel like you're depriving.

Let's move on to labour and delivery, shall we? Pushing a baby out of you? The excruciating pain of tearing? Trying and trying to just get through that one contraction? It's tough stuff. (okay, I'm trying here, but really, labour and delivery is so short, and rather exciting, AND it went so well with Abigail, that I really don't have a case here. Skip this part.)

But RECOVERY! Oh gosh, do you really want to do recovery? Does that sound fun to you, you sicko? Stitches. Peeing with the peri-bottle. Not changing your pad fast enough and feeling like your muscles are about to drop out of your vagina. Trying to poop without having a hemorrhage. Walking! Just walking was pain at its finest. And all of this while taking care of Elijah AND Abigail. Night-time feedings with having to wake up at 7am for the day because hey, you're not having your first, and so you just have to deal with being ridiculously sleep-deprived. Feeling cooped up, wanting to go somewhere but not physically being able to. Being tired out and incredibly sore from one small trip to Walmart. Trying to sit on the pew at church with stitch-pain (like from Elijah's birth.) Constipation! Bleeding, pad-changing, nipple damage from nursing. In other words, no fun.

So the conclusion of all of this? Yes, pregnancy is wonderful and exciting, and of course having a baby is an amazing blessing. There are opportunities to grow closer together as a family, and it'll be wonderful when it happens again, but don't forget, don't ever ever forget that being pregnant is tough stuff. It's no walk in the park, and it's certainly not something to want just because you miss all of the fun, wonderful little stuff. It's a big decision, and not something to decide on lightly. It requires prayer, thought, and maybe a little attempt at planning. So for heaven sakes, don't just walk around moping because someone else is pregnant and you're not. You will be again, Heavenly Father willing, and it's okay if now is not the time. You'll survive. I promise.

Beautiful

***Warning - sappy blog post that gushes over my two children ahead***

I'm typing this one-handed, as my sweet little girl seems to prefer being held, and has a 6th sense for when I'm about to start a blog post.

The title of this post is Beautiful, because I feel like that is what life is to me. It's amazing, exciting, and scary all at once to be this happy, and part of me feels like its too good to be true.

Don't get me wrong, things are not all puppies and rainbows. For instance, just this afternoon I was saying that Matt was working too much during his time "off" from the business, and that I felt lonely because he just works all day at the computer. Then I cried a good, hormonal cry, and felt better afterwards. And that's when Matt learned that a woman's hormones continue to mess with her even after she's given birth (this made me laugh...he didn't really even consider my body needing to balance out the pregnancy hormones, let alone consider the ones involved with BF'ing.)

But in spite of my little grievances that are mostly hormone-induced, I feel this undercurrent of happiness, and I am so full of gratitude for the blessings I have been given. I don't fully understand why, I can't answer the "Why me?" question, but for some reason my Heavenly Father has blessed me with a husband who is my rock and support, who understands me better than I understand myself (often much to my chagrin) and with two (TWO!) beautiful children.

Elijah is such a funny nut, and has adopted this really coy personality. He plays shy with strangers, but not the hide-in-daddy's-shoulder shy, but the cover-my-face-and-peep-at-you shy. It melts my heart. He walks around on his tippy-toes, and has started making this vroom-like sound whenever he sees a train (which, considering how he doesn't talk at all yet, I'm thrilled about!) He is a little monkey sometimes, massaging Diana Sauce or fruit juice into his scalp, or running to the far corner of the room when he sees a diaper in my hand, and it's really hard to contain my own smiles when he's being like this, because it really actually is funny.

What is amazing to me is how my love for my little man has grown by having another baby. I look at him and my heart hurts a little to see how much he has grown, to remember where he started, the baby he was, and compare him to the toddler he is now. He's still my baby, and yet, he's not really a baby anymore. Sometimes he is, but mostly he's getting so big, and can understand so much. Having Abigail join our family has somehow made me notice Elijah more (if that makes sense...) and notice all of his little -isms. Not that I didn't pay attention to him before, but I just have more time, I think, to just sit and observe. I love my little boy, and this post-partum recovery is hard partly because I have so little mobility to get down on the floor and play with him, to carry him upstairs to bed (and have him snuggle my shoulder) to sit at the bench and feed him lunch.

So yes, I can fully support the people who say that having another baby doesn't divide your love for your children, but rather makes it grow.



And then there's this sweet little Abigail. She is such a little miracle, and it's amazing to me, to look at her and know she was inside of me. She loves being held, and sleeps better that way (which makes night-time a little uncomfortable at times) She looks at me and pays attention when I sing, and she has the sweetest little sounds and grunts. I love the way she breathes a little desperately when she's about to latch on to nurse, like the world WILL end if she's not quick about it. I love how she purses her lips when she's done BF'ing, and how she holds my finger or thumb when I'm trying to keep her hand away from her mouth while nursing. I love that she keeps her head turned in my direction all night while sleeping beside me, and how she tucks her knees up, arches her back, puckers her lips and raises her eyebrows when I pick her up by her underarms.

My heart is just bursting with love for her, and I can't believe Matthew and I have been so blessed to have not just one child, but two, after struggling with infertility for so long.



I know this is sappy but sometimes I need, for my own sake, to write down everything that makes life beautiful so that I remember when times are tough just how great everything really is.

For instance, when Elijah was 2.5 months old I thought I was pregnant again and was so excited, despite how hard it'd be to have two babies so close together. When it turned out that I wasn't pregnant, life got a little hard. What sucked the most about the experience was that, before then, I had been completely content to hold and snuggle Elijah, watch him grow as a baby, enjoy his newness, say goodbye to pregnancy for a time, and just enjoy being a mom. Afterwards, though, I felt like I was missing out on being pregnant, and my attention was so often distracted with hopes of experiencing it again. I hate (HATE) to admit it, but there were times when I missed moments with Elijah because I got caught in a rut of wondering when and if we'd have another baby. I feel so much guilt about this, and wish I could change it, but it's fruitless to dwell on the past, all I can do is appreciate the now, and the beauty of it. Elijah's amazing personality, Abigail's newness and baby-ness and little milestones.

It's all just...beautiful.

Adjustments

Well, I had pretty much forgotten how busy one can be doing nothing! Okay, so I haven't been doing nothing, but it's amazing how the day comes and goes, and I look back and realize I haven't done anything apart from look after and hold Abigail, while talking with Matt and Elijah, watching Backyardigans, and eating meals. I'm just now finding a random 15 minutes between cluster-feeds to type this, so we'll see how far I get in an update before it's time to get ready for bed and feed Abigail again.

First, Abigail is doing amazingly. She weighed 9lb1oz on Monday, down from 9lb7oz when she was born. This loss was great, as she could have gone down to 8lb8oz before they get worried. My MW warned then that Abby might not gain anything from Monday to Wednesday, if she continues to lose, and then gains back to 9lb1oz. By Wednesday though? She was up to 9lb6oz! This girl is a rockstar. Apparently, they hope for 1oz of weight gain a day, but are okay with 1/2 an ounce, but Abigail averaged 2.5oz a day!

I can't even say what a relief this was to me. I was worried she wasn't latching well, I was worried she was spitting up too much, but apparently she was doing just fine.

I'm doing pretty well myself. My stitches are healing well, but aren't quite done doing their job yet. My body doesn't dissolve suture material at all, so it might get a little uncomfortable for a bit, waiting for things to heal enough to just remove them. Also, I have some swelling that is really starting to hurt, but when I think it's bad, I just remember Elijah's recovery and how brutal was, and I think I'm doing pretty well. My biggest problem is with my muscles, which ache for so many reasons. My pelvic floor muscles hurt a lot (totally to be expected) but it makes it so I can't sit on the toilet at all once I've gone pee. Like, AT ALL. Also, my lower back and hip muscles, as well as the muscles at the top of my legs (where they connect to my torso) ache randomly, and twitch sometimes. This is because of the position I was laying in for so long after delivery. Also, my tummy muscles, mostly down the sides, hurt and feel like giving up with little provocation it seems.

Honestly, though, when I compare this to recovery with Elijah, I feel like I'm doing amazingly. My biggest concern is that I've been getting a little dizzy at time, accompanied with slight nausea and tiredness. I hope it isn't an infection developing, I'm kind of concerned that my stomach pains are infection-related.

This is totally TMI (but hey, I think I only have 1 reader anyway, so sorry! I want to record little random details for my journal's sake. :) ) but I've actually pooped 3 times since delivery!! It hurt my pelvic floor muscles like the dickens, but it's such a relief to me, I was so worried about constipation, after going through it for a month with Elijah.

Pre-delivery my weight was up to 203-205 (from 175 pre-pregnancy) and I'm now down to 185. Not bad! I'm still losing water weight, I know I have water retention going on in my legs still, but my face looks thinner to me, and my feet are recovered enough to wear a pair or two of bigger shoes that I own. Hurray for my flip flops lasting me through the whole summer, though!

I know I could write more, this is such a boring post (like, even I find it boring...) but I wanted to write a few of these details before I forget. Oh, like how I was going to mention Abigail losing her umbilical cord this morning. Not that anyone but me cares to know, but I imagine that if we have another baby after Abby, I might be interested to know Abby's timeline. OH, and the most awesome thing happened this afternoon. You know how babies randomly smile because of gas, dreams, or a comfortably full belly of breastmilk? I LOVE these first smiles, but what happened this afternoon was even better. Abigail laughed. I was not mistaken, it was not gas, it was a full-out little baby giggle, and it was the most beautiful thing! She was sleeping and dreaming, and kept smiling and smiling, opening and closing her mouth, and then all of a sudden she lit up and laughed! I hope I never forget that memory.

Anyway, Abigail is fussing now, and I need to go to bed. Hopefully I can find the time to do a more upbeat, things-are-amazing post soon, because things really are great, and I feel so blessed and lucky to have my two beautiful children and my husband, who is pretty much the best, I'm not going to lie. :D

The makings of a post

Sorry, will post sometime later today, but in the meantime, a photo!

Birth Story

This post might have to come in parts, because I really want to record every detail I can remember (this is my journal, too, afterall!) and my free time is broken up into chunks lately.

First, I'll mention that I did NOT feel like I was about to have a baby. The only thing different about Friday was that, by the end of the day my feet were pretty swollen, even though I'd barely been on them that day. Other than that, it was just a normal day. I thought I noticed a teeny tiny bit more discharge, but not enough for me to think I'd lost my mucous plug. I was pretty sure I was still at less than 1cm dilated, but really, who knows?

Anyway, I woke up at 1:55am on Saturday, October 8th. I'd been having a dream that I was having some mild contractions, but I didn't think much of it, I just got up automatically to go pee. When I was in the bathroom I had a small contraction but wasn't convinced that's what it was until I got back to bed and had another. I was SO excited! They kept coming but weren't bad, so I figured I might as well stay in bed and try to get some more sleep.

I didn't sleep at all, partly because I was excited, and partly because some of the contractions required my concentration to get through them. I thought it'd be a good idea to work on some of my coping techniques before labour was too intense to think about it, so I practiced non-focused-awareness during that time. Usually, this calls for you to acknowledge every "disturbance" that your senses become aware of, and then move on from it after simply taking note of it. I don't know if that makes sense or not, but the idea is that you don't focus in on one thing and let it irritate you (such as the pain...) I found that, instead of listing all the senses (sight, touch, sound, smell, etc) I focused in on touch. I tried, during the contractions, to list off everything that was touching my body in any way, whether it was the bedsheets, my own body, the pillow, the air. I also pictured the air as blue, and tried to visualize the flow of air around my face as I breathed in and out. I was surprised to find that these things actually really helped me to cope, as it's the pain-coping technique I figured I'd use the least.

After an hour of this, I decided that I wasn't about to fall asleep any time soon, and would rather be coping upright. I went to the bathroom again (2nd BM of the night I think?) and decided to straighten my hair between contractions. I'm not going to lie, I totally did it because I wanted to look good in photos afterwards! Whenever I'd have a contraction I'd put the flat-iron down, rest my arms and head against the counter, and and breathe through it. This is when I started doing the whole, "blowing raspberries" thing, or breathing like a horse through my lips. It probably looks and sounds ridiculous, but I could feel it relaxing my body. I also tried to relax my body as I felt my shoulders and back tensing.

Around 3:30 I went downstairs and made a piece of toast with peanut butter to eat. I was contemplating finding something else to do between contractions, and had narrowed it down to putting on make-up or sewing my nursing cover, but then I realized that I barely had time to spread peanut butter and eat my toast.

I grabbed Matt's watch and started trying to time the contractions at this point. They were close together, sometimes 45 seconds apart (from finish of one to the start of another) and sometimes up to 3 or 4 minutes apart, but they were usually only 30 to 45 seconds, so I didn't think to call my midwife yet.

Around 4pm I went back upstairs and woke Matt up to tell him I was in labour. I wanted so much to let him keep sleeping, but I was starting to feel like I wasn't coping well on my own, and that it would really help if he pushed on my lower back when it hurt (which it did!)

At first Matt didn't believe me, but then all of a sudden he was up and about, suggesting things to help out, and just being...AWESOME. Honestly, SO different from Elijah's labour, where we both had no clue what to do. He ran downstairs and got his watch, and when he came back up I was kneeling on the floor with my arms resting on the chair, going through a contraction. He helped me through them for about 25 minutes like that, until he asked when I should call the midwife. I decided to page her then, because I really didn't know.

One important thing to note is that so far I felt like everything had been so similar, timing-wise, to Elijah's birth, from waking up at 2am, labouring on my own until 4, starting to time contractions with Matt, etc., so I felt in no rush to have my midwife come, I was just confused that I was having so many contractions.

My midwife (the one I like best! Yay!) called me back, and I told her what I was feeling. She said that they generally wanted to see things more regular than I was experiencing, as both the length of the contraction and the timing between them varied so much. She suggested having a bath, and said that the bath would do one of two things: it would either cause my labour to taper off, or it would cause my contractions to regulate themselves a little (the tub test? I don't know if that's a real term or phrase they use, but it's what I'm calling it from now on!)

Personally, I knew that this labour was not tapering off. She wanted it to have been intensifying (which is was) and to know that I couldn't talk through a contraction (which I couldn't.) I said, "I feel that both those statements are true...but if you want me to try this first, I will." It was still so early in the morning, and part of the reason I was calling was because I didn't want her to come too early if she thought I could go a little longer, but I wanted to know what to do.

So downstairs we went, to use that bathroom rather than the one attached to Elijah's room. The plug we had didn't fit the tub, so Matt ran next door, woke his parents and borrowed their plug. They asked if there was anything they could do, but Matt said to just go back to sleep, that it'd be a while yet.  (Ha!)

I got in the tub and the warm water felt soooo nice. I wanted to just let it run and run, and felt a little despair when Matt told me it could only fill so far before the drain started to take the water out. I wanted my whole belly covered, darnit!

Contractions in the tub were HARD. It hurt to sit on the hard surface, and I really appreciated the concept of the padded/inflated floor of birth pools. It was difficult, too, because I couldn't easily move when I had a contraction, I could only sit there with my feet out in front of me. Matt rubbing my back felt nice, but it just...hurt. While in the tub, I felt like the pain was too intense to blow raspberries through it, and I started to moan instead.

I remember saying to Matt between a contraction that I'm losing my focus and control, that I could be doing so many other things to help cope with the pain, and I was forgetting what they all were. I was putting all of my energy into how I was moaning, and none on other techniques I had wanted to try. Matt asked me what else I could be doing, but before I could tell him to get my "birth plan," I had another contraction, and forgot about everything else.

I used all of my concentration to keep my moans low and controlled rather than have them mount and become high pitched and desperate-feeling, like I had done with Elijah, and when I thought of Elijah's birth and how I moaned then, it made me compare the two experiences again. I realized that, for so long with Elijah's labour I had just sat there with my legs out in front of me, and didn't find out until RIGHT before the epidural that I should have been trying different positions, and that it was pretty much the worst position to be in. And here I was, in the same position, having trouble and feeling like I couldn't cope as well. It was no surprise to me, then, that before long I started to feel desperate. A contraction would come, and all I could think was, "I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here. I want to be at the hospital. I'm not comfortable at home. I thought I could do it, and I can't. This pain is too much, I need pain meds afterall, this must just be what I can handle, and who cares if my labour isn't what I envisioned it to be. I need to leave. NOW." I felt like a bit of a failure, I'll admit.

I decided to get out, and while Matt was running upstairs to get a towel, I got on all fours and had a contraction in the tub. I felt like I had to use the toilet again (3rd time since labour started) and I started whimpering and feeling panicky, like with Elijah's birth. Right along with the whimpering and panic I felt nauseous, and I remember my midwife (the one I didn't like) telling me at Elijah's birth that I was nauseous because I was tensing my body so much and letting my panic get to me. I consciously relaxed and it did help the contraction, but it also reaffirmed in my mind that I couldnt handle labour. Ohh the guilt!

I got up, had another contraction where Matt told me to try to not scream, but to make the low moaning sound instead, which I did.

Once that contraction was done I sat down on the toilet, and a few things happened simultaneously. 1) I pooped, just like I had to (and gross or not, it was so not solid. Just have to include that. I know it's way TMI...haha) 2) my water broke, 3) Abigail's head descended, 4) I screamed bloody murder, because, 5) She had gone from nothing to crowning in a second, and I was tearing, and about to deliver her right then and there.

Oh. My. Goodness. Panic is the best word to describe how I felt. Matt's word? Probably shock. I reached down and tried to hold her in (because somehow I thought it'd help...hahaha) while I screamed at Matt that she's coming, I can feel the head, call my midwife, I don't know what to do, I'm scared, etc etc. I somehow had to spit out what the midwives' pager number was (which he totally dialed wrong, waking up some poor person at 5am, asking for the Team B midwives...haha) He called Kr, my midwife on call, and she told him quite firmly (she admitted afterwards that she felt bad for being so harsh with him) to get me OFF the toilet, NOT back into the tub, and get me on the floor. She at first said the bed, but after realizing we were downstairs, she said the living floor would do. She said to call 911, to get Jeff and Carol (my in-laws) over there, and that she was coming as fast as she could (which is totally true. I happen to know she ran 2 stoplights and went 140km down my 60km/hr country road! Also, her husband told her afterwards that in all her years as a MW, he had never seen her put on her clothes and get out the door that fast. God bless her!)

I don't think I mentioned much about the timing from here on out. To summarize, I woke up Matt at 4am, we called Kr at 4:24 am, Matt talked to Kr at 5:02 am (after my water broke and I was trying unsuccessfully to keep the baby's head in.

So there I was, laying on the living room floor, and desperately saying to Matt that "She's coming, she's coming, I can't stop it, she's right there, I don't know what to do!" Matt just kept telling me what Kr said, to breathe it off, to "blow that feeling away" (which, surprisingly helped, the visualization thing apparently works well for me) and so I tried. SO hard. Every contraction she was coming further and further out, though, I couldn't do anything to stop it. There was so much going on around me, it was crazy. Carol was by our one doorway that looked to the outside, watching for Kr, and Jeff was outside of our other door, in the office on the phone with 911.

Poor dad (Jeff) though! Here was 911, who kept telling him, "You HAVE to go in there, we need these questions answered. You HAVE to go in!" and Matt shouting at him to "Go out and help Kr!" except all dad could hear was Matt repeatedly saying "Go out! Go out!" so dad was on the phone with 911 saying, "but they don't want me in there!" and feeling very confused as to what to do!

Meanwhile, I was trying to cope with the pain as best as I could and NOT push, even though every part of me wanted to. I don't remember when I started doing this, but I was repeating the same sound constantly, in between saying anything, asking questions. They were all sounds made with my mouth, and I think it just gave me something to do. I remember feeling like it was comforting and relaxing to just repeat the same sound over and over, like "Muh muh muh muh" "vuh vuh vuh vuh" or "buh buh buh buh." It also kindof reminded of Elijah's babbling (another random thought that popped into my head during all of this.)

A short time later, Mom let us know that Kr had pulled in the driveway, and after shouting at dad to go out, Matt came over and knelt down by my side. There was absolutely NO keeping that baby in there, and by the time Kr walked through the door, her (Abigail's) head was half out. I still had my hands down, trying to keep her in, and I don't remember if it was a conscious choice to push, or if my body just kept pushing her out, but Kr set down her stuff and turned around to me just in time to see Matt catch Abigail and place her on my chest.

It was the strangest feeling in the world, a kind of disbelief mixed with relief mixed with humour and amazement at the situation in general. It was so strange to feel (with my hands) her head come out, to know instinctively to just keep pushing and to feel her body come out, this big mess (to me) of limbs and torso and neck.

Abigail was born at 5:14am, not quite 15 minutes after my water broke. Crazy, right? I never thought I'd be one of those people, with one of those stories. I kind of feel like I could be on that show, I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, except it'd be more like, I-didnt-know-I-was-that-far-along-and-I-didn't-recognize-transition-labour-because-I-had-an-epidural-last-time-and-really-thought-I-was-just-sucking-at-coping-and-was-a-failure.

Everything else has been relatively normal. I had about 6 stitches put in, but 4 are in a muscle and only 2 on the surface so going to the bathroom isn't too painful. It took a long time for them to do the stitches, and the only thing that was really hard about the whole thing (apart from the confusion, which was so short-lived anyway) was that I had to lay there on the floor for another 1-1.5 hours after delivery while they stitched me up and did all sorts of other stuff. My back, hips and legs were killing me by the time I could roll over and get up, and it was a little disappointing to not be able to see anything but the ceiling. I wanted to hold Abigail and nurse her, but it was such an awkward position, not being propped up with pillows, that it just wasn't possible.

On the upside, it meant that I got to watch Matthew hold her for the first time, and really take it all in. I actually don't remember the first time he held Elijah and I wish I had have paid more attention to that detail, that the memory would be there. This time, he took his shirt off so that he could hold her skin-to-skin, and we (well, I was laying there on the floor, so really it was mom) put a towel over top of her to keep her warm. Matt just sat on the kitchen bench holding her, calming her cries, and smiling. It was amazing, and I love that memory.

Another memory of it all that I love is how amazing Matthew was from the moment he was woken up by me at 4am. He was so loving and encouraging, telling me I'm doing great, saying I'm beautiful, amazing, all those things you like to hear when you don't exactly feel your best. He'd remind me after each contraction that it was one less contraction than I'd ever have to have, which was a rather comforting thought until I hit transition and the despair set in. He would push on my back, and wasn't at all bothered when I bossed him around and told him where to push (he suggested marking the spot I liked best on my back with a marker so that he always got it right...haha) He was just...amazing. And then, words can't even describe what a rock he was to me when all hell pretty much broke lose at the end. He said today that all he knew was how much he needed to keep it together, and that he was kind of screaming "Ahhhhhhhh!!!" on the inside. He didn't show a bit of that, though, and I'm so grateful.

Things definitely didn't go how I had planned, but they went amazingly, and I'm so very grateful. I don't feel like I, personally, did all that well, but I think it's just because the whole time except the last 15 minutes I was comparing the labour to Elijah's, and feeling like I was falling apart, just like I had done with his labour. Not that Elijah's was a bad labour, but I felt disappointed in myself after all was said and done, and I didn't want to feel that way this time. Those feelings are so hard to shake, even after telling myself that this labour was completely and totally different, even if it seemed to follow the same timeline for a couple hours. I'm guessing that I was actually much more dilated than I thought I was at 4am, but because I was actively coping through it, I didn't notice it, and just took my persistent pain to mean I wasn't coping at all really, and that I was acting just like how I had with Elijah's labour. We'll never know, though, as I never had an internal, or even so much as a heartbeat checked throughout it all.

Oh, and one awesome part of it all? I was upstairs in bed by 6:50am, and Elijah woke up at 7:08. Mom got him up and he was so happy to see her! It completely didn't phase him to wake up to so many people and things happening, and he had a great day. It's amazing to me that he slept through it all (I was really screaming quite loud for a bit there) and I'm so glad that he didn't wake up until I was settled in bed, just sitting there when he came out. It was like every other morning.

Yesterday I felt like Superwoman. My stitches didn't hurt, nursing was going fantastically, I could take on the world, and clean the house while I'm at it. This morning I felt pretty good too, despite the awful night we had, but as today has progressed I'm feeling things a bit more. My stitches still aren't too bad, but my muscles are starting to feel like I maybe really did have a baby yesterday.

I'm tired, and it'll probably only get worse because apparently Abigail's days and nights are mixed up. She wouldn't sleep for longer than 20 minutes from 9:30pm until 5:30am. From 1:30 to 3:30 I was nursing her almost constantly, and there was some damage done so now it hurts a little to nurse (an improved latch will help that, I'm sure.) Matt took her downstairs close to 4, and she finally settled down and fell asleep at 5:30, and she's really only awoken to feed since then, otherwise falling back asleep. It's now 2:45, and I'm fully expecting tonight to be awful. Just...awful. BUT tomorrow we start putting her onto a schedule, doing such rude things as giving her a bath when she's trying to sleep to wake her up and be more awake during the day, so we'll see. I felt a little upset about the night when I woke up this morning, but then I looked at Elijah and remembered that, difficult as it was when he was born, we survived to the point where we wanted another baby, so I'm sure we'll survive this too. It's such a short time, and it'll be a blur to look back on it. For now, I want to treasure every good memory, so that those stand out more than the blur that is having a newborn.

I know I said it before, but I have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend. Yes, I missed the craft show and 2 turkey dinners, but it's so worth it. This little, chubby sweetheart has slipped into our family and made it so natural and perfect that we can't imagine, let alone desire it to be, any other way.



[caption id="attachment_1112" align="aligncenter" width="199" caption="The chubbiest cheeks I've ever seen!"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1110" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Look! She actually has girly hands, and not big man hands!"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1109" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Me and my fantastic hair, straightened just for post-delivery photos...hahaha"][/caption]

Baby Mine

Well, after a whirlwind of a day, I'm finally finding the time to post about the arrival of our sweet Baby Girl!

Abigail Edith was born this morning at 5:14a.m., measuring in at 9lb7oz and 22". She has a head covered in soft, dark hair (which I think will lighten, as her eyebrows are lighter,) these little eyes that are a darker shade of blue, and super chubby cheeks. We're not used to rolls!

I really want to post her birth story, but she needs to feed right now and then I'm thinking (or more hoping really...) that she'll sleep for a bit, and I'll make an early night of it. Maybe tomorrow I can get up our crazy birth story. I hope so! I don't want to forget a second of today, wild and jam-packed as it's been.

How much we have to be grateful for, this Thanksgiving weekend!