Ezra's Birth

After my longwinded kind-of -freak-out at 38 weeks pregnant, I think the proceeding actual labor and delivery should get an equal amount of screen time here, yeah?

So the doctor I saw the day before my scheduled induction for October 1 wanted to see how baby was doing. I had a quick ultrasound. He measured well, apparently at about 8 lb. His heart rate was great, there was still amniotic fluid aplenty.  He was head down, low and I was already dilated 2 cm. (!!) She said I was very favorable for going into labor on my own, the baby's doing perfectly well--there's no medical reason to be induced early. Hurrah! Not only that, with membranes stripped she said she very strongly suspected I'd have that baby in the next 48 hours. Excelente. 

48 hours came and went, including a hike with our preschool group, carrying Noah half the way back, and several long walks in the neighborhood with Ben and the boys. Nothing. I felt fine. My due date October 2 came and went. BUT I woke up around 1am on October 3 to something. Contraction? 10 minutes later, another. It came on pretty gradually, but I guess this is early labor. Around 4am I had a few at 5 minutes apart and thought I was ready to go in. But then then next were about 10 minutes apart again. But by about 5am, though few and far between, they were strong enough to make me think we should go to the hospital. (Bless my sister Emily, my sister-in-law Anna and friend Melissa for watching Seth and Noah for us!)

We made the five minute drive, parked in Ben's parking garage and went to the 5th floor. Since my contractions were far apart I felt pretty good, pretty casual. The staff basically said I'd probably go home. But turns out I was dilated to a 4 or 5 at that point. I would be admitted. !

I said I'd be interested in getting an epidural when the anesthesiologist was out of the c-section. I stayed in a quiet triage for a bit while they got a room ready. The contractions were getting more intense but still about 8 minutes apart or so and lasting less than a minute. Pretty do-able. I felt like this was great. So great they wondered if I could even be progressing, but around 6:00 or 6:30am I was checked at a 5 or 6. 

I got put in a delivery room at 7am. I walked over and when I got there had several really strong contractions closer together. I told Ben I felt almost ready to push. Nurses and doc came in, I was at 9 cm. The anesthesiologist was in another emergency c-section. But the OB suggested if she broke my water it would fully dilate me and I'd be have that baby there in the next 10 or 15 minutes.

I was hesitant to consent because I know it feels a lot more intense and painful once the water is broken. And no time for an epidural? Upon asking Ben what he thought he reminded me if I waited for the anesthiologist it'd most likely be like with Noah, having to sit still on the edge of the bed while in transition/crowning. Right, let's not do that again. 

So we went ahead and had my water broken. I stayed lying in bed after that. And, as expected, it was a lot more painful. Also, frusteratingly, that urge to push had gone away. Even though I was fully dilated. (In retrospect if I had been standing again I think that would have helped.) I tried for an hour to push, but that urge just wasn't there. ?? Weird. Frustrating. Also concerning because the baby's heartrate kept decelerating. And, of course, still painful. Finally, the OB said if I couldn't push him out of the next push she'd have to use the vacuum. Contraction, push, no progress. So vacuum it is.

I was so, so glad they could get him out when I just could not do it. It reminded me of how my great-grandma Emma did not have that option with her breech baby and she almost died in childbirth.

But I didn't know what to expect from a vacuum. Basically imagine one of those industrial strength Excaliber hand driers in public bathrooms--the really loud ones you know? Put it in reverse mode to suck. And now consider what it might be like to have, say, a ping pong ball extracted from your nostril with this high wattage vacuum. Let's just say I went banshee for about 20 seconds. BUT---then he was out, he cried, he was healthy, fine! Ben cut the cord and the PICU took a look at him to make sure he was okay.

And he was! Perfect! 7 lb. 12 oz., (exactly the same as Noah). 9 on his apgar test even, for what it's worth.

And when I saw him he had big open, greyish eyes. He looked so familiar. Maybe it was that ultrasound photo of his profile I'd been starring out. Or maybe he looked a lot like a Peterson baby. (Like Seth I thought, with his own flair.) But I felt really at home with him. Like it wasn't the first time I held him. So familiar.

There's so much hype about the birth experience. And when you anticipate the potentially most painful time of your life for almost a year, you can definitely develop hopes and anxieties about it. But some circles talk like if you don't have a beautiful, meaningful experience while contracting that you've ruined your mommy/child bond for life. I really don't think so. Unlike most experiences, the point here actually is the destination (baby out!) and not so much the journey.

With all that said, getting Ezra from womb to world was a pretty ideal experience. It went so well. I was so glad to have a happy, non-anxious birth. So glad my body was able to go into labor on its own. I feel like it did make a big difference for me. And definitely, more than anything, grateful to have him here safe and healthy!

Feeling Heard

Sometimes emotions transcend circumstances. Like once, I wept and wept pathetically on my bunk bed when I had just found out a bush in our backyard had been removed. I was about nine years old, but honestly, does that situation warrant tears? I think not.

I now consider myself a more stable type person. Getting older, I've learned to deal with change a little better. But the induction news was that bush being weedwacked to shrubbery heaven again. It hit me in the gut--more even than the situation warranted. I felt (pregnancy??) emotions swing high. 

There are a million horrible things in the world. Getting Pitocin is probably not on the list. (Though Pitocin without epidural could likely qualify.) Even though, logically, I knew this, I still felt completely unglued.

After having time to process, to write, to talk to Ben, to hash out scenarios, to pray and think and pray some more, I've felt the anxiety melt away. 

I feel heard in heaven; even though it's something pretty insignificant. He should just tell me, "Buck up, sister!" But instead He comforts and calms that, unreasonable but still raging, storm inside. It makes me think God really does care about us.

---

Also, I feel heard by an angel that works at my OB office: that Connie Ostrowski. I want to hug her. After hearing my brief hesitancy, she read me like a book. She suggested we might schedule an ultrasound and non-stress test for the day before scheduled induction. If he looks fine, they could push the induction back. If things look questionable, then go ahead with plans. Really?? Fantastic. 

So ultrasound Tuesday. Possible induction Wednesday, but might be pushed back.

I'm feeling good about that. It feels good to feel heard.

A threatened induction

So, I've been induced twice. Once because I was postdates, and the other electively so Ben wouldn't miss it. (He had a national, big deal, non-remakeupable test for med school right after my due date.) Both times it didn't go so well.

Baby #1: I got Cervidel for effacement to prep and it kicked me into tetanic contractions. No early labor, just relentless hard labor, baby went into fetal distress so had to give me something to slow contractions down and almost had to c-section. Unexpected, fast, crazy and kinda scary.

Baby #2: I got Misoprostal to prep, but after, what, 14 hours of being strapped to the bed it didn't do a darn thing.
  Mistake 1- I wasn't dilated, but they started Pitocin.
               2- I wasn't dilated, so they broke my water.
               3- Some man behind the curtain thought things weren't progressing, because the nurse kept religiously pumping up the Pitocin, but without checking for progression.
               4- I waited to get an epidural, until I was about to gouge my eyes out and my body was seemingly ripping in half.
               5- Anesthesiologist came in, but was slow and, the staff thought I was still at about a 1. In fact, I was in transition and he was crowning while I was having to sit up on the side of the bed. There was a dramatic moment.

Thankfully, it all ended in a healthy baby via vaginal delivery both times, so the inductions did accomplish the ultimate goal.

And yet I've had to ask myself, wow, isn't there a better way?? 

I'm obviously not an anti-medicine person. (Good thing, married to an internal medicine physician and all.) But even still, I've swore for 10 months I would not be induced. "Let nature take its course!"

But at my last appointment the OB informed me that there are risks of going postdates with a baby with a single umbilical artery (SUA). She strongly suggests I am induced by my due date. (In 8 days for the record.)

Do you think I have a chance of going into labor on my own before my due date? Not on your life.
Do you think I can, in good conscience, go against medical advice for this baby and go ahead with my original plans? Not a chance.
Do you think I am feeling really horrible about having to go against my long hope of "letting nature take its course"? You better believe it.

I'm feeling pretty sick about the idea of being induced again. For my own sake. But I'm not about to let this little human suffer adverse consequences to meet my emotional and psychological "needs" for this labor and delivery.

So I'm praying that by some miracle, my body gets with the program and goes into labor before October 2. But I'm also praying that if that doesn't happen, that I'll be reassured it's for the best. And also that the Duke Hospital labor and delivery staff are more in my court than the staff at the other hospital in times past.

So we're praying here. Mostly, that we'll be ready to welcome this healthy new boy soon!

Asking Jesus one question

I remembered today when during college I volunteered in a special needs religion class. I oftentimes sat with M. He had Lou Gehrig's disease (think Ice Bucket Challenge; in case you actually looked up what ALS is) and maybe some cognitive or learning disabilities as well. I would help him read the verses or discuss the questions posed by the teacher.

One evening in class the teacher asked, "If you were there with Jesus and could ask him one question, what would you ask?" She had us each write our secret question on a small paper. What a hard task--one question only! I ended up writing something thoughtful, and perhaps a bit philosophical.

We shared our question with our partner. M. opened his paper. I saw in shaky print, "Will you heal me?"

The most sincere, faith-filled, obvious, necessary question to ask. And it didn't cross my mind. I saw my own "special needs" as I sat across from my project friend. I was the Pharisee asking questions; he was the true seeker.

Sometimes still I wonder what I should pray about. Sometimes I wonder what I need. I hope I don't look too far outside myself, and that as I look deep I find the wounds and ask M.'s question, "Will you heal me?" That seems the only question that really matters.

Standin' Tall

This series of character building stories and music from Brite Music is making a major comeback in our household. And I kind of love it.

Set:

1--Obedience

2--Honesty

3--Forgiveness

4--Work*

5--Courage*

6--Happiness

7--Gratitude

8--Love

9--Service*

10--Cleanliness

11--Self-Esteem

12--Dependability*

*=boys' favs

My parents' graciously handed off the set I had growing up. Seth and Noah both request these as they go to bed and are driving in the car. It is oh so fun to see the boys developing the same little schema I had as a kid. 

Though, admittedly, "Cleanliness" was my favorite tape and I can't say I was cleaner than any other kid. So maybe the messages don't always hit a homerun...

I do think Seth, for one, is getting the idea though. At least about what procrastinating is and that it's no good. This message was brought to us by the "Dependability" CD, a favorite. (A no brainer, the setting is outer space and there's a bad guy.)  Recently he was pushing the limit on bedtime and coming out of his room again. 

"Mommy, can I listen to 'Dependability'?"
"No Seth, it's in the car and it's time for bed."
"Can you go get it?"
"No, shut your door."
"Mommy, are you procrastinating? I think you're procrastinating getting the CD."
"Hm, no, I think you're actually procrastinating going to bed. Is that right? "

Seth gives a knowing you-got-me smirk and eventually, sheepishly shuts the door and goes to sleep.

If trying to peg others' procrastinating is the start of his character education, so be it. We're starting somewhere.

Prepping Myself

I have about 6 weeks until this baby boy is born. With this in mind, I'm scrambling to complete the projects I've been putting off until "sometime": typing new family cookbook, creating family blog book, cleaning gross window tracks, assembling photo albums, etc.

During my photo scavenge, I came to Seth as a newborn. I had to stop, remember, appreciate; seeing him so little also has me anticipating the new life and joys coming into our family so soon. 

Saturday Show

Saturdays are fairly relaxing at our house; only one kiddo and few obligations. But it's the only day lacking any routine, which results in me feeling strangely anxious. I'm like a child in that way: I love having a schedule; I love knowing what's coming next. 

Ben and I agreed we needed to implement something to set Saturdays apart. "What did we do as kids?" we asked ourselves. We realized what's missing: Saturday morning cartoons! (accompanied by a hot breakfast when possible) followed by Saturday chores. 

The rule is we have to watch our "Saturday Show" on the couch as a family. We rotate as to who decides what cartoon to watch. A few weeks ago Ben chose a unexpectedly funny Coyote and Roadrunner episode. Last week Seth chose a few song clips from Sesame Street. And on my turn?: I picked the classic Bugs Bunny episode "Hair-raising Hare", below. 

I'm loving the combination of laughing together and then getting to work and cleaning our house as a family. Huzzah for family traditions.

Losing my grocery list

I don't know how I do it, but I'm in the store crossing off items, grabbing the bananas, finding the soy sauce and somehow my grocery list disappears. I look on the ground, in my purse, on the shelf, in the cart, in Seth's mouth, my pockets, and I look all those places again. No where, it's gone. This has happened several times and I never find the list. Weird? Yes, weird.

It reminds me of something my dad wrote once:

"I am now taking these keys over to the built-in desk."
"I will feel so proud of myself once I have successfully sequestered them there."
"These keys take precedence above all else until they actually make it to the desk."
"Nothing exists in my universe right now, except for these very keys, and that desk towards which I am walking."
"Neither sleet nor snow nor driving rain will keep these keys from making it to the desk."
"Whew! Now, that I am at the desk I am taking my... hey, where are my keys?"

Must be a Mower thing.

Lori Frugality

My mom has a heart thing. We never knew why, we just knew about twice a year when she'd move slower and sigh every few minutes that that meant her heart was suddenly racing. It'd start usually when she bent over to pick something up, and wham, cardio workout pulse: the heart thing. (I told she'd make major money if she could figure out how it worked and marketed it; motto "the workout without the work".)

"Mom are you having your heart thing?"

::exhale and a squinty mind-your-own-business smile:: "Maybe."

"Mom, you should go lay down."

It's hard to get this woman to stop. And it's even harder to get her to go to the doctor. If I had the heart thing I'd make an appointment the first weird beat I got. Maybe I'm paranoid. But it's been going on for years and she's never gone to a cardiologist.

Until recently. It started happening more frequently and lasting longer. Like 4 hours plus at 200 beats per minute. And nothing she did could get it to stop. With some pressure from us, she finally met with a cardiologist. He told her next time it happened to come in to the office so they could do an EKG.

Well about a month ago she was sitting reading a book and it started again. After many hours she decided to go into the cardiologist. He told her she needed a certain shot, and she had to get it in the emergency room.

She was a little ticked. Here's her slightly stubborn side coming out. She ducks out of the office and goes, not to the hospital, but to her primary care doctor. She explains that their insurance has a high deductible and the original reason she went to the cardiologist is to avoid ER expenses. Isn't there something else she can do?, she asks.

The PCP let her wait it out a bit in his office, to see if it would slow down or stop. After a time he kindly told her it might be better to pay some ER expenses now than pay for some kind of major crisis later. Good call. So she relented and made her way over to the hospital.

She got an angry greeting from a nurse telling her she should have come straight in and they've been looking for her. In no time she was told from a young doctor with a ponytail she'd be receiving a shot that would reboot her system--briefly stopping her heart. "Some people describe the sensation as a crushing darkness." Lovely. She realized then why that shot probably wouldn't be administered in a little cardiologist office.

Happily, she rebooted fine, and she shortly left and drove herself home.

The condition itself is not life threatening, but certainly not good for a body once it reaches its older years. So she herself actually opted to meet with a specialist that could do a non-surgical procedure--which she stressed to me, was not a surgery--where they go in through a vein in the leg and zap part of her heart--the AV node (?)--with a laser or something. I guess it basically kills that little non-essential part that's created the heart thing.

She had her surgery this morning, so I suppose she no longer has the heart thing. Rest in peace, heart thing. We will always remember thee, for the forbearance and frugality you inspired in one so dear.

On another medical note: perhaps my own bare bones attitude toward spending money is not choice but genes.