Love Hurts

Someone very special to me gave birth to their first child today.

When she first shared the news, I was over the moon excited.  I think she was still in shock, the excitement settling in gradually over the next few days.  At that time, Emery was just 2 months old.  Having just fought the battle of pregnancy and child birth, myself I was so thrilled that another little human would be entering this world.

I was blessed to spend lots of time with my sweet friend over the course of her pregnancy.  I got to see the physical and emotional changes in her as she prepared to become a mama for the first time.  As her belly began to grow more and more, I began feeling these unfamiliar pangs of emotion each time we were together and often when I thought about and prayed for her, her husband, and her tiny baby.  Sometimes these pangs would cause me to well up with tears, sometimes they would cause adrenaline to pump so fast causing my heart to pound and my hands to shake.  There were times that I felt like I could just burst with the overwhelming unnamable emotion I was feeling.

I pondered these feelings all the time.  I was excited for her.  So excited.  I was scared for her too, recalling the torturous anxiety I experienced throughout my pregnancy.  I felt a bittersweet longing for the feeling of Emery rolling in my belly, knowing that I was the only person experiencing her this way and that we were already forming our bond long before she met the rest of the world.  Honestly, I considered other options too... was I jealous that she was experiencing all of those sensations I was longing for again?  No, I have my angel and pray that we will have another one when the time is right... which is not now.  Was a worried that our friendship would change, that it would become even more difficult to spend quality time together with 2 babies to care for?  No, I have realized that sometimes this is a natural, but usually temporary result of being a mama.

But what was this feeling?  It wasn't excitement, it wasn't fear, it wasn't longing.  It was something so intense and complicated for me that it took until yesterday when her water broke at work, she headed to the hospital and I laid down in bed and realized the very strong likelihood that when I woke up in the morning that precious little girl would be here and the tears came and the adrenaline came and it hit me... this feeling is love.

It is love for my friend who was, at that very moment enduring the most physically, mentally, and emotionally difficult thing she would ever experience.  Whose hard work would result in the ultimate reward but who couldn't possibly even comprehend how good that reward would feel until she held her in her arms the first time.  It is love for my friend who I knew would have countless sleepless nights ahead of her.  Who I knew would probably have to rally every last ounce of strength and energy to get through the difficult period of having a newborn for the first time.  Who I knew was about to have her heart cracked wide open to make room for this huge, tremendous love that will change her forever.

It is love for her daughter, who I have been eagerly anticipating for the last 9.5 months as well.  Love for the little girl that I have seen growing in her mama's belly, that we have all been waiting for.  Love for the sweet baby that I will undoubtedly get to snuggle, and love, and hold, and babysit, and watch grow up.

It is love for my daughter, who altered my entire universe in a way that can never be reversed.  The tiniest human I ever held, weighing just 4 lb, 2 oz when we took her home from the hospital.  My daughter, who made me a mama and first introduced me to this love so big that it hurts.  It physically hurts to love like this.  It hurts in a way that makes my heart race, makes me catch my breath, causes a massive lump in my throat and more often than not, makes me cry tears of overwhelming, indescribable joy.  It hurts but it hurts so good.  The best kind of joyous hurt I could ever dream of.

We are 3

I can not believe the last post here was written 10 short days before she was born.  Technically speaking, we weren't ready for her... but this miraculous little fighter was ready to conquer the world. Emery Christel was born on April 23, 2015 (Tory calls her a straight 4/23/15) at 2:51 am.  At 36 weeks, she was considered "preterm." She weighed a whopping 4 lb 6 oz and was 17.5 glorious inches long.  Our tiny little TLO is almost 4 months old now but before I can resume blogging, I feel like I need to go back to the beginning.  I can hardly remember life as 2, but I don't miss it one bit. 

I have told this story plenty of times, but this is the first time that I have had the opportunity to type it all out at once.   Warning: I feel like I can be moderately graphic here because 1. no one is reading and 2.  if you are reading, you're either a stranger who is here by accident or a person who has probably seen me at some of my least glamorous moments in life already anyway... Another warning:  I feel like this is going to be really long.  Like War and Peace long.  If you're reading on your phone, good luck.  Here we go!

On April 22 (I was 36 weeks pregnant- just a week shy of full term), I woke up at 5 am thinking I needed to pee.  I didn't really have the urge or anything but I felt the tiniest dribble and figured I'd better just get up and go.  As soon as I got out of bed a little bit more dripped out and I thought to myself  "crap, I guess this is where the peeing your pants part of being super pregnant begins..." So I got to the bathroom and sat down to pee and more fluid came out uncontrollably.  Not quite a gush but not really a trickle either.  I immediately realized this was a new sensation and peaked into the toilet to see what was going on.  Sure enough, watery pink liquid, and I knew immediately that my water had broken.  I sat in the bathroom by myself  for a while- I don't remember how long- and let the realization of what was happening slowly hit me.  I do remember being calm and thinking it was weird that I was in absolutely no pain whatsoever.  I had been having plenty of braxton hicks for weeks beforehand but nothing painful or even remotely resembling anything I thought labor pains would be like.  Eventually I called for Tory (about 100 times because he sleeps like the dead) and finally he woke up.  I yelled from the bathroom that my water had broken and he was the first one of many to ask "are you sure you didn't just pee your pants a little?"  

Yes, I was sure. 

I remembered from our childbirth class that if you're having contractions you were supposed to wait at home until they were close enough together and lasting long enough... although I had no clue what "enough" was.  I also remembered that if your water broke-with or without contractions- you were supposed to call your doctor right away for instructions.  Tory's memories of our class differed and he insisted that we needed to wait for the magical contractions to get to their magical level of "enough" before doing anything.  Eventually I ended up calling the on-call OB at the hospital and was told to wait until 8:00 when my OB practice would be open and then head into labor and delivery and give my doctor a call on the way.  

Because we were expecting to at least have a few more weeks before she arrived, we were completely unprepared.  I hadn't yet packed my bag, we hadn't built the bassinet or even washed any clothes or blankets for her.  As soon as I got off the phone with the on-call doc, we got started with these chores.  I sent T to Walgreens for maxi pads and extra large undies to contain the mess, which by the way.... continued trickling in various quantities for the next THREE HOURS.  That was fun.  We did a few loads of laundry, I packed my bag, and we headed out around 9 (an hour late).... after stopping at the Mcdonalds drive through for breakfast because  I figured that would be my last meal for a while.  We got stuck in some rush hour traffic en route to VA Hospital Center but got there around 9:30 and my OB was waiting for me at labor and delivery.  I was still not having even the tiniest contractions and was all sorts of excited when we got there.  

So I strolled into L&D and as soon as I checked in and the nurses got a look at me and all my happiness and definitely not having "enough" contractions, they started giving me the whole "are you SUUUUURE you didn't just pee  your pants/ its total normal and happens all the time...." speech.  Unless urine trickles uncontrollably and unpredictably for hours on end, I was preeeeetty sure I hadn't peed on myself.  My doctor even said "Listen, if she says she is sure, she's sure.... she is not being triaged and not being sent home.  Admit her right now.  If I am wrong about this, I will wash the linens and clean the room myself."  NOTE: this is when it pays off to be a low maintenance patient.  I really think that because I really only saw them for my routine prenatal visits, she took me seriously when I showed up with my water broken and no contractions. 

They got me set up in a room- number 9- my softball number for, like, my whole life.  They tested the fluid and immediately determined that my water had broken.  Duh...  I got my IV fluids going and changed into my super glamorous, open in the rear gown.  My doctor came back to check my progress which she presumed to be nil because I wasn't having contractions.  Sure enough... cervix was hard as a rock and none of the other fun stuff that was supposed to happen when you're in labor had actually happened.  She had to come in with the assist for some of this stuff which was super fun... and by super fun I mean insanely uncomfortable... but with all of that fun, came the proverbial GUSH of the rest of the amniotic fluid.  And thennnnnn came the discussion of the drugs.   

As I previously mentioned, I did not have any formal birth plan because I felt like my lack of experience made me highly unqualified to make any sort of demands regarding my medical care and the wellbeing of me and my unborn child.  The closest thing I had to a plan was to go as long as possible without any type of drugs and to do everything that was considered safe by my doctor to achieve a vaginal delivery.  I was completely open to an epidural if/when the time presented and completely open to a c-section if that was the safest option for my baby.  I just really wanted to try it the old fashioned way before I went those routes.  Alas, because I had prematurely ruptured I would be getting IV antibiotics... They didn't really seem to give me any option in that matter, which was fine because I understood the infection risk and did not want to deal with that complication.  So now I've been a patient for 10 minutes and already have agreed to one form of medication.  In go the antibiotics.  

The doctor also said that because my water had broken but my cervix hadn't caught up, I had a few options with how to proceed:  Cytotec (which ripens the cervix.... I took this during my miscarriage because my body had gone weeks without actually expelling the baby and tissue), Pitocin (which they told me was highly effective and highly aggressive), or to wait.  They encouraged the Cytotec because it was the least invasive, and strongly discouraged waiting.  I was told that if I opted to wait and she wasn't born within the next 18 hours, I would need a c-section due to the infection risk of having ruptured prematurely.  

So I had my first meltdown over the Cytotec.  I mean, talk about bad juju.  I was not thrilled to be taking the same medication I took to basically induce a miscarriage in order to deliver my healthy, living child.  I was scared and still really emotional about it.  But I opted to go this route, hoping to avoid Pitocin all together.  15 minutes as a patient and now I've been given 2 different drugs. 

So I took 3 doses of Cytotec over the next 10 hours and the contractions really got going.  My entire family AND Tory's entire family showed up even though we told them not to.  We all walked about 100 laps around L&D until they decided it was better if they just took turns walking laps in shifts... bless them.  I was the only person not in active labor/about to have a child. My contractions were intense but highly erratic and did not seem to be getting regular or anywhere near "enough" at all.  All of our family got bored and went home, which I was thankful for.  Tory and I needed some time together before this really started happening and it's a lot of pressure to have a baby when 7 people are waiting and you're not getting any closer.  At 6:30pm my OB said that I could eat a light dinner because she didn't think I would be having a baby until later the next morning/early afternoon (imagine my surprise at this news... I could have choked her) and that I should stop walking and try to get some rest.  She would be around soon with the night shift OB to give report.  I met the night shift OB who said "do NOT eat dinner"  (too late) and "We are going to scrap this whole Cytotec plan because its going nowhere."  So in goes the Pitocin (Drug Number 3).

I should mention here that at this point, I've been there 11 hours and my cervix has been checked exactly twice.  When I was first admitted and after 2 doses of Cytotec (I was 100% effaced and 1 cm dilated... devastation).  I was repeatedly told that they did not want to check me because of the infection risk.  So all of these decisions were made based on my contractions... which as I mentioned were intense but irregular.  

Pitocin is a violent, ugly drug.  The nurses scared me out of walking anymore once the pitocin was started because they said if I had a misstep and tripped over the IV, I could be given a bolus of the stuff which would make my uterus seize thus severely damaging my child or something else scary that I can't remember.   It all sounded really terrifying soooo I laid in bed and watched Friends and tried to rest and to get comfortable.  At around 9:00 the practical part of my brain spoke up and was like "Listen, if you're just going to be laying here anyway and if you aren't going to have a baby until tomorrow afternoon anyway, you might as well get the epidural now and at least get some sleep tonight."  So in went the epidural (Drug cocktail #4 if you're still counting).  Which I have to say, I was really nervous about... but the anesthesiologist was amazing.  He put me right at ease and gave me the most simple and clear instructions.  The epidural went in without any issue EXCEPT that I was still feeling everything.  I decided I would give it a few minutes before I said something.  My left leg got a little tingly over the next hour but that was about it.  When my nurse came in I told her I was still feeling everything and she was all "Well, how often are you administering a dose?"  Say what?  No one told me the thing was patient controlled OR gave me the magical little button that I could push every 10 minutes.  So anyway.  Things got better quickly after that.  But just when I started dozing off, the nurse came in  "Ahem... ahem... I'm sorry sweetie but your blood pressure is like super high so we need to roll you.  And we are going to need to roll you every 20 minutes until it goes down and stays down."  This in addition to my hourly temperature taking guaranteed that I would not be getting any rest despite the epidural all night.  To top it all off they kept losing track of Emery's heart rate so they would then have to come back in and reposition the monitor.  They kept saying "Your baby just won't stay still..." ha....hahaha.... there was a reason for this, naturally.

So the rolling and flipping went on for a couple of hours and meanwhile the Pitocin got turned up all the way.  At 2:00am the nurse came in and said "Ahem... ahem... sweetie.... your baby's heart rate has been dropping a little  but until now it has bounced back on its own quickly.  We just had a pretty significant drop and it took a while to bounce back so we need to turn off the Pitocin... Annnnnnnnnnd give you another drug (number 5!) to stop your labor all together.  Your baby needs a break."  

WHAT

Cue meltdown. 

Poor Tory had finally managed to catch a wink and woke up when I got upset.  I gave him the details and I could tell that he was really worried.  The nurse came back in and said "Before we give you this other drug, I want the doctor to see you.  She's in the next room delivering her third baby of the night but she will be over as soon as she's done.  Its been a busy night around here."  Kick me when I'm down... sheesh.

So the doctor came in and explained the situation- basically repeated what the nurse said and agreed with the recommendation- and started to walk out the door before suddenly turning around.   She said "Actually, you haven't been checked since this morning, so before we do anything, let me just check your progress.  Sometimes when you start with Cytotec and then have Pitocin they all kind of start working at the same time and things can go a little haywire."    

On go the gloves and in go the fingers.

"Oh, well... I know why we were losing your baby's heart rate so often.  I JUST FELT HER EAR.  You're having a baby right now.  Probably in like 10 minutes." 

WHAT

Cue meltdown.

Cue uncontrollable shaking and trembling... which by the way, the doctor noticed and assured me that this was completely normal and happens to everyone.  Can anyone out there vouch for this?  Anyway...

So they started breaking the bed down and called the NICU team... telling me that it was just a precaution because she was technically preterm and they thought she might be a little on the small side.  The NICU team took their sweet time and 5-10 minutes went by.  The doctor says "Well let's just see what happens when you push, go ahead when you feel the urge." and gives me this little step by step of how to really bear down and push.  Also, I had stopped dosing the epidural a while before this and was feeling a good bit of sensation down there, but no pain.  So when my next contraction started, I pushed once and out came her entire head and neck.  

And Tory watched, bless him... that was not the plan.  He decided for himself that did not want to see, but when I asked him why, for the love of all that was holy, was he looking?!  He was all "I DONT REALLY HAVE ANYWHERE ELSE TO LOOK SORRY"  

So her head and neck are out and the doctor says "OK STOP PUSHING.  You're a good pusher.  No more pushing."  The NICU team finnnnnally showed up after taking their sweet time and we were all set to go... somehow in all of the waiting and watching her head and neck went back in so we were starting from square one.  I got the cue to push and out it came again.   The doctor told me just to give a tiny push this next time.  So that's what I did, I swear.  But she came out all at once.  So fast that I actually heard the doctor gasp and say "Oh myyy!"  and then "So tiny!"  And off she went to the NICU team.  Thank the Lord in Heaven that she came out screaming and flailing and SO ANGRY otherwise I would have been really concerned that they just whisked her away like that.  They measured her and told me they were going to take her after we held her for a quick minute (more on this later).  She was much smaller than they expected.  Her APGARs were 8 and 9, so I wasn't too worried.  I didn't realize that a 36 week baby should weigh at least 6 lb.  

They stitched me up and took her away.  Tory went with her and when he got back to me, he looked around and had this look of horror on his face "What HAPPENED?"  I kid you not, friends, there was blood everywhere.  Blood on the floor, blood on the cot, blood on the rocker across the room, ACTUAL BLOOD ON THE CEILING.  I still have no clue how it all got so messy but the nurses were shocked too when we asked them about it.  

From there, she stayed in the NICU for 4 days due to her size (measuring 34 weeks) and developing jaundice due to coombs.  She got down to 4lb 2 oz, but was 4 lb 4 oz when we brought her home.  Her discharge paperwork included a diagnoses of Intrautirine Growth Restriction... a diagnosis that was not given prenatally and was news to us.  I plan to write about all of this and more in the near future, but for now I will just end with this...

She's here and she has taken off.  Thank GOD that she knew it was time to come when she did.  She has tripled her birth weight and as far as I can tell is right on track with all of her developmental milestones. 

She is a miraculous little fighter with her own plans and agenda.  

She is spirited and feisty.  She is sweet and cuddly.  She is expressive and dramatic.  She loves her Daddy and her kick and play piano mat.  She loves to squeal and coo when someone she knows talk to her but is intense and appears to be studying the world when she is in a new place or around new people.  She has changed my life for the better and my heart will never be the same.  She made me a Mama. 

Fear Not

I recently experienced a season of serious, SERIOUS anxiety as the third trimester of my pregnancy hit the halfway point and the imminent arrival of TLO was closer than ever.  Several weeks were a bit reminiscent of the first 3 months of my pregnancy- wrought with nerves, anxiety, and guilt.  In the first trimester, my biggest concerns were just getting through it alive- all 3 of us.  I was sure my heart couldn't take the mystery of the growing life in my belly and there was the constant nagging fear of a repeat miscarriage tugging at my heart.   But we survived the first trimester and THRIVED in the second.

The second trimester was heaven on earth.  My growing belly and the swishing, rolling, kicking baby always making herself known were so reassuring for me.  I felt amazing, fell in love with my bump and even more in love with the little girl inside.  As I mentioned before, I have just fallen more and more in love with my baby daddy and have loved looking at him through the new lens of parenthood.  He makes my heart soar.

The third trimester snuck up on me but getting to that point felt like such a huge milestone.  Many of the children that I work with were preemies or micro preemies.  It is not unusual for a child to appear on my caseload who was born at 27 weeks... so hitting that 28 week third trimester milestone meant that we had a little survivor who would more than likely live if born at any time from there on out.  Not that I am in any hurry for her to make her grand entrance,  I'm good to let our little cream puff keep baking for at least another 2-3 weeks... really she can stay in for the full 5 and hit that 40 week mark for sure... but no more than that.  Right.

Anyway.  The anxiety that I have been experiencing has actually not been related to the pain and labor of childbirth.  Somehow, I am not all that concerned about that.  I am definitely a bit nervous about all of those sensations and how painful it will be, but I think I have just accepted the fact that its going to be a challenging, painful act of endurance and am mentally preparing for it that way.  The anxiety I was experiencing has it's roots in the work that I LOVE and do everyday.  As a pediatric SLP in a medical setting I spend 10 hours a day with children with special needs- some of them very severe.  It is really hard not to project normal fears that surely most expectant mom's experience onto these little people who I spend so much time with.  I do think that because I spend so little time with typically developing children, I have developed a very skewed perception of what is typical and what is not.  When I worry about the dust all over my house or the take-out we had for dinner last night, my mind goes immediately to these children and not all of the happy, healthy children I see playing outside my front door every day.  For a while, a really felt like the world was out to get me and was just not compatible with pregnancy.  It seems like everything has the potential to kill, harm, or damage a developing baby whether it is growing on the inside or outside.  And our society seems to have become one of fear-mongering on social media and type-A control freak personalities like mine do not cope well with this notion that somehow I could always be doing something better or something that may have happened in the last 8 months could have already created permanent, irreparable damage to my sweet little girl.  So this has been the root of weeks of serious anxiety... the kind that was causing me to lose sleep at night and cry after work every day.   For weeks I struggled with this... and was completely lost to it.  Fortunately for me, I was able to talk with Tory and my mom about it and share my fears with loving friends who are moms that work in the same field that I do.  I prayed about it often but always seemed to find myself stuck in this cycle of prayer and fighting for control... which do not go hand-in-hand at all.

It was finally over Easter weekend at church that something clicked.  Our pastor was discussing the typical Easter/Resurrection fare but put a new spin on it... or maybe it wasn't a new spin at all but it came to me at just the right time.  He was talking Fear and how the Bible tells us more than almost anything else that if we have accepted the Living Christ as our savior then we really have nothing to fear at all.  In the context he was referring to, he was speaking specifically to the basic, simple fact that once we are saved as Christians there is nothing else in our worldly lives that matters anymore.  Christ overcomes the devil and all of our worldly sins-like fear and anxiety (and lack of faith)- and we can just surrender it all to Him.

Finally in my head and in my heart I was able to make another faithful leap.  If I am willing to put my faith in the Lord to save me from eternal damnation why, why, why can't I faithfully believe that the little life inside me is exactly the one that God intended for us to have?  We obviously all pray for happy, healthy, perfect children but why can't just accepting that having faith in the Lord and praying for His peace and provision be enough to give me confidence that everything is going to be ok and that I shouldn't be afraid?  Why is it so hard to be faithful, when has the Lord ever not shown up for me?

So while I HAVE been able to enjoy significant parts of this pregnancy and while I feel so blessed to have been given the gift of not just being a mother, but carrying my own child... I recognize that many weeks have been wasted in fear.  And I'm ready to stop being afraid and start focusing on all of the amazing gifts that I have been given.  It's time to just accept that doing the best I can is enough and that no one on Earth is perfect or ever will be again.  God has his hands in all things and I can sleep restfully knowing that this tiny little girl is exactly the first born child Tory and I were meant to have.  I've got 2-7 (lets keep it closer to 4-5) weeks left to enjoy this little mystery inside of me before she makes her grand appearance and I have to share her with the rest of the world.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  Not as the world gives do I give to you.  Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.  John 14:27

Just a little note:  As an expectant mother, my eyes have been opened and my heart has been changed in my interactions with these children that I work with.  I have always cared for these little ones and their families but now, more than every, I am able to view them not just as a patient with problems that I am tasked with solving, but as someone's child that they love more than anything in the world and probably lose hours of sleep every night worrying over.  I have been given the blessing of being a part of their lives and journeys and it is my responsibility to treat them with the most love and care I can muster on any given day. 

My Peeps.

I have the best people.  In the universe.  Ever created.  I'm sure you think your people are the best and I am sure they really are special.  But let me assure you, mine are the best.  If we happen to share some of the same people, then lucky you.. you have he best people too.

I am overwhelmed with love on pretty much a daily basis at the number of people who sincerely love us and love this kid already.  The people who ask and really want to know how things are going and let me ramble on and on about things that I'm excited about, scared of, and all of the feels I'm feeling.  I am so overwhelmed by my love for them that I can not fathom for the life of me, what I could possibly say or do to let them each know how special they are to me.  I'm working on it though.  In the mean time, know that if you're my people... I love you.  So much.

Childbirth Class/ Hospital Tour/ Birth Un-Plan

Childbirth class has been looming over my head like a doomsday before the big, happy event.  I was soooo on the fence about taking one of these classes.  I am an information-seeker.  When faced with a problem or dilemma, I immediately go into question/answer mode.  It is actually how I process both good and bad news.  I need to have all my facts, assess the information, and then decide how I feel about things.  This can be a double-edged sword because sometimes I end up knowing too much... which leads to anxiety... which leads to more information seeking and more anxiety and a really ugly cycle that usually culminates in panic and surrender.  But anyway....  I knew it would be helpful for both of us to hear all of the gory details and have all of my fears confirmed by the professionals but I also felt like no amount of talking through it would fully prepare me for the live show in May.  I was definitely wary of the anxious spiral that may result from having too much information.

Boy was I wrong.

I mean, I am under no illusion that I am fully ready and equipped to deal with all of the fun that lies ahead of us at this time but I feel SO MUCH BETTER having gone to this course.  Here were some of the biggest benefits for me:

- The Tour:  at the very least we now know where to park, enter the hospital, and proceed on baby's birthday.   I've seen the progression of triage, labor and delivery, and postpartum rooms and have seen the location of the ORs and the nursery.  If nothing else I have a picture in my head of where I will be when she is born.  Phew. 

- The Pain Management:  I was so confused and overwhelmed by the decision to have an epidural or not and I definitely felt like it was something I needed to have heavily considered and educated myself on before game time.  I learned that each hospital seems to have their own take on epidurals, when to get them, etc... so it was helpful to know that in our situation, I can basically get one any time before the baby is out, pending any emergency situations AND I can have the dosage dialed down when its time to really get down to business.  My biggest concern about the epidural was the slowing down of the labor process and the inability to move once I had it. I'd really like this little lady to make a grand and punctual entrance into the world and while I know I have basically no control over this... at least I know that I can try to get through as much labor as possible before getting the cocktail and then get some sensation back if/when I want it.  Sign me up.  Jackpot.

- The Labor Process:  I knew there were stages and whatnot to the labor process but I really had no clue at what point you decide to show up at the hospital.  And ps. call your doctor first so they can say "come on in- I'll let them know you're on the way."  So while I am not a fan of the idea that I might be sitting at home, in pain, for hours at least now I can mentally and physically prepare for that.  Time to load up the DVR (because I'm clearly going to want to watch some TV right?) and figure out how I'm going to get through those fun hours before its go time.  Understanding this entire process will also be instrumental in helping me decide when/if it's epidural time.  The videos during this part of the lesson were particularly unsettling for me; however, I do feel better now having seen the horror of it all.  Its like ripping off a bandaid- the fear of it was much worse than the actual experience.  Stay tuned on whether this is true on delivery day as well. 

So while we are no where near prepared at home for this little girl's arrival (stay tuned for more on that), I am feeling so much more mentally and emotionally prepared for what is to come.  The peace of mind I feel now at least having some of the unknown revealed to me has been tremendously helpful.  I know there will still be plenty of surprises and I know myself well enough to know that while I need to be informed... I should not develop a "plan" because the moment that plan is unachievable, I will panic in the absence of a backup.  Sooo... my plan is to take all of my information and all of my lack of information and see what happens.  Having never given birth before, I have no clue what it will be like for me.  It seems silly to get my mind set on an idea of how it should go and have things be completely different than expected when the time comes.  I know there will still be unexpected surprises and I know that I have no clue what my body is about to experience.  But I know what I know and I know what I don't know.  

I'm good with that. 

My Cup Runneth Over

Wooooooohooooo!  6 months down and 3 to go.  I'm feeling bittersweet about meeting our little girl in May.  I can not wait to finally see her face, and fingers and toes, and hold her and love on her and have her meet her big, amazing, loving family.  But I already know that I am going to miss watching my belly grow, feeling her squirm, and having her with my everywhere I go, all the time.  The 2nd trimester has been a hugely emotional to me.  There have been moments where I have literally been overcome with joy, love, and gratitude that Tory and I have created this little person and have been given the blessing of raising her and loving her and having her love us back.  How'd we get so lucky?   My love for T has also already started transforming.  It is incredible to look at him now not just as my partner and other half, but as the father of my child.  We have loved each other so well for the last 12 years and now we get to put all of our love together and give it to this sweet little gift, too.  With all of the changes we've already had in the last year, we've got a new family motto that is driving almost everything we do everyday:  TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK.   I just can't wait to see how the D Team grows and works together as we do life together.

There have been many, many tearful days the last several months.  Mostly tears of joy and overwhelming love and gratitude.  There have also been plenty of tears shed over silly, inconsequential, hormonally driven-moments.  Here are just a few of the weird things that have made me cry in the last couple of months:

1.  Thursday... the end of the work week
2.  The scene in The Theory of Everything where he gets his spelling board.
3.  All of American Sniper (I was sobbing- should not have seen that in public)
4.  The Rachael Ray Show
5.  Leah Still
6.  This Android Commercial:

7.  This song from the movie Delivery Man:

8. Grey's Anatomy (I can't even talk about this one... I really dislike Shonda Rimes right now)

And here's a little bump update:

The Wonders

Half-way there and TLO is making her presence known... most notably by taking over my physique and a tiny space in our house.  I'm starting to get a few more "are you expecting?" types of questions/comments from people who have noticed but aren't sure (My favorite: "congratulations on your life change!" genius and so PC).  My belly has definitely popped and there's no denying it at this point.  And I loooove it!

I've been very blessed with a basically symptom-free pregnancy, so far.  If it weren't for outgrowing my jeans, I don't think I would even notice that I'm pregnant.  I had a few days of queasiness early on, but no real morning sickness at all.  The first BIG milestone that we hit was being given a due date at my first ultrasound (7 weeks).  With baby #1, we didn't have enough information initially and lost the baby before being given an official due date.  After 8 weeks, I did have some pretty major fatigue that knocked me off my feet for a few weeks but I had also just started a new job, working with children for 10.5 hours a day, 4 days a week.  I'd bet the fatigue was a result of multiple factors working against each other.  By week 16, I was feeling pretty much like my usual self.  Around that time, I started feeling little swishing, fluttering sensations low down in my belly.  I wasn't sure until week 17 when the swishing started to be followed by a tap-tap-tap that I was feeling TLO move.  I made my first maternity clothing purchase at week 17 (long-sleeved T-shirts), because I was starting to feel really yucky in my regular clothes.  The prevailing "pregnancy" symptom that I had during the first 4 months... especially up until I started feeling movement was ANXIETY.   My lack of symptoms had me constantly questioning whether the baby was healthy and growing the way it should be.  My job had me constantly running through the different levels of devastation if lab work or a screening revealed a problem.  I think I was trying to prepare my heart and mind for the worst and relied primarily on google and my own reasoning during this time.  Cognitively, I knew that I had lost hold of the thread that got me through my miscarriage and wasn't living up to my own belief in giving it all to God and trusting that His plan was favorable for us, whether we understood it or not. Each time I would convince myself that I needed to have faith in all the things that I was praying for, this quote by C.S. Lewis would creep into my mind and implant itself somewhere that I couldn't ignore:

"We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be."

It was so toxic for me to run in circles of stress, anxiety, and guilt over my questionable faith.  There were lots of uncomfortable conversations and prayers

When I woke up bleeding at the end of my 18th week, that questionable faith was tested.  Nothing hits you harder than when your immediate thought is "I knew something like this would happen" and in your next breath, you start furious prayers of begging and bargaining.  I needed to refocus and remember that the Lord got me through my lowest point and for the last 18 weeks he had done nothing but show up time after time.  For the first time, I was able to view my symptom-free pregnancy as a blessing... maybe I was just being given a free pass on this one, maybe I had been through enough for a while.  Laying in the hospital waiting on the ultrasound, I decided that it was time to grab hold of the blessing I'd been given and hold on like hell.  Turns out, baby girl was just fine and healthy.  I still don't know what caused me to bleed that day, but after one trip to the ER and a few days on "bed rest" until the bleeding stopped, I've learned my lesson.  Game changer. 

If the first half of my pregnancy could be described in a phrase it would be "the worries," now into the second half (23 weeks!), the best way to sum it up is "the wonders."  Every single day I am reminded of how "wondrous" and "wonderful" all of this is.  Here are a few of my most recent wonders...

• I wonder how much longer my belly button will hang on (its "closed" as Tory would describe it... aka completely flattened out)
• I wonder who she will look like. 
• I wonder what her interests will be and what she will like
• I wonder how the heck we would ever choose a car seat without the Baby Bargains Book
• And how on Earth would I be getting through this without my fellow mama friends cheering me on and answering all of my silly little questions at all hours of the day?
• I wonder if I should eat this (answer: yes!)
• I wonder what the heck she is doing in there... gymnastics?  tap dancing?
• And what limb or body part is that?
• And WHEN WILL TORY BE ABLE TO FEEL THIS TOO?
• I wonder what we'll name her  
• I wonder if I will ever sleep through the night again... (hello hunger and smushed bladder)
• I wonder if I will miss all of this once she is here. 
• And when exactly will she be here, and how will she get here, and WHAT'S THAT GOING TO BE LIKE?
• I wonder what other weird things are going to make me cry today (more on this later...)
• I wonder how much more my skin can possibly stretch (if you know the answer to this, I'd rather just be left in the dark at this point...)

Which brings me to my next point... 

About these selfies... Let me just tell you... I am intensely anti-selfie.  I just can not figure out how to make myself look reasonably attractive, dead-on, from arm's length away.  But when my jeans started feeling a little snug, I figured I should go ahead and put my ego aside and try to pick one day a week to wash my hair and slap on some makeup to document the weekly changes occurring with my belly... now 9 weeks later, I am so glad I've been doing this!  Each week I get a kick out of looking back and thinking about how silly I was at week 14 when a tiniest hint of a bump (bloat, probably) was noticeable in my gym spandex.  I am sure 20 weeks from now I will have a big laugh over my mini bump at this time.  

  

If anyone is curious about the furry big sister... Lucille's life goes on as usual.  As far as she is concerned, she is top dog (see what I did there?).  She has become my little shadow since my work schedule has changed and we are spending a lot more time together Friday-Sunday.  People keep telling us, she's going to have trouble being demoted once TLO comes home, but I doubt it.  She's never met a kid or adult that she didn't like and is curious about everything new.  She hasn't been around babies, but on the occasion that a toddler has been too much for her in the past, she just retreats to a safe place and waits until they settle down.   She's a pretty secure and adaptable pup and is still sweet and snuggly as ever (taken as I typed this):