Then, I’ll Feel Pretty.

I specifically remember being in junior high, looking in the mirror and thinking, “After I get my braces off, then I’ll feel pretty.” 

I got them off and felt like a million bucks. Soon, I shifted my thoughts though…My body was alright and all; but, I didn’t have abs. I believed, “If I could just do a bunch of sit-ups each day, then I’ll feel pretty.”

As a young teenager, I felt comfortable enough with myself to not obsess over my insecurities. I didn’t hide in the locker room, or shy away from situations where I was the center of attention. But, I still felt like I could look better. I wasn’t like the models on TV or in magazines. And, I wasn’t “as skinny” as so-and-so was…

Senior year, butt dimples appeared. I was crushed. At 18, I started hiding behind clothes in the locker room and I became very insecure about my increasing weight. I’d let go of this idea of abs. Now, if only I could have a toned butt, then I would feel pretty.

It was that summer after senior year that I caught a glimpse of the back of my legs in a mirror. And, I was sick to see…hail damage – as I’ve heard it so offensively called. My hamstrings were not toned “enough,” and I swore that I wouldn’t wear shorts again, until I “fixed it.” Once I toned my legs, I would feel pretty.

The freshman 15 in college showed up, and then perhaps 15 more…

I cried and cried to Heath about my insecurities. If I could just lose the weight again, then I would feel pretty.

At 20, I started weight watchers. I lost the weight. I felt great. But, those love handles… My body profile was just so thick. I needed a tiny waist. If I could manage to lose just a few more pounds, then I would feel pretty.

The next few years, I tanned in tanning beds. I dyed my hair. I got mani/pedis. I bought new clothes. But, I would still obsess over what to wear, to hide my thick middle area. And, that’s when my “bat wings” showed up. When I waved, my arm skin would jiggle. I swore off tank-tops. 

Then, I got pregnant. All of a sudden, those silly insecurities flew out the window. They were laughable, actually. The next two years would be the hardest for me to ever endure in regard to my own body image. I gained a lot of weight – 54 lbs actually. And, I was not blessed with a forgiving body at that. I got stretch marks in places I didn’t even know one could get stretch marks. Maybe more water would have helped; but, my doctor assured me that it is mostly a genetic thing. Awesome. Sorry, Lucy and Olive…

Accepting this new me, which could never be changed back was difficult. I held on to the idea for so long that I was somewhat in control of my looks. Just some hard work could make it better, if I became motivated enough to do it. But, stretch marks? Well, hello there! Welcome to my life, we’re gonna be together for…ev…er. 

At 24, I lost the weight and was very close to my pre-pregnancy weight. But, my body was not the same. This was the time when I wished I had worn the shorts, worn the tank tops, felt comfortable in the body that I look back on now with appreciation…and sadness…

As I aged, and more babies came alone, I thought that weight loss, and clear skin, and better hair, and tan skin, and wrinkle cream, could all make me feel pretty. If only I could fix this or that, I’d feel pretty…

Now, these may sound like the ramblings of someone who suffers from body image issues. Truth is, I don’t. Yes, I go through at least ten outfits any time I’m going out. Yes, I watch makeup tutorials on YouTube, and died a little when I had to search for “makeup tutorial for under-eye wrinkles.” Yes, I dye my hair. Yes, I sometimes stare in the mirror for ten to fifteen minutes before jumping into the shower, just assessing what I got going on. And, yes, I watch Botched on E! and wonder what Dr. Dubrow would do to “fix me up.” 

But, it isn’t an unhealthy obsession for me. I truly believe that my feelings are not uncommon. I may be vainer than some, but I am also less vain than some. Nevertheless, I think to some level many people feel this. For moms, I feel like it is much more amplified. Perhaps I’ll go into that another time…

This past summer, I certainly spent too much time focusing on my body image issues. After being put on an anxiety medication, I started to gain weight very quickly. I have always eaten like garbage for the most part, but am pretty good at maintaining. It was all that baby weight following me around. This time though, on this medication, was the first time I gained uncontrollably. It was the middle of bathing suit weather and I was carrying around much more weight than my clothes or I were used to. Then, out of nowhere, I started to get marks on my face that may or may not have been perioral dermatitis (a form of eczema). It was summer! And, here I was packing on layers of clothing and makeup. I was supposed to be in shorts and tank tops, with no makeup. It was a low for me.

Soon, I got my hair dyed a new color and got a new cut. And, my doctor gave me some medicine to clear up my face disease. I was feeling better. One day, as the kids sat in the bathtub, I studied myself in the mirror. I thought to myself, “Now, if only I could lose this weight, I would feel pretty. I would feel content. Yes, I’m old. But, this weight is really what is dragging me down.”

And, I realized - It is always something.

I think back to my 18 year old self not wearing shorts and I want to shake that girl! Or, the girl who wouldn’t wear tank-tops. Or, the girl who thought she needed abs to feel confident. I can’t even put into words the disappointment I have with her – my past self. 

As I age, I am getting better and better at these things. I think about them less, and I rely on my personality to state my worth. It is hard though, because I still want to look nice. I still want people to think I’m pretty, as well as nice, fun, kind, humorous, etc. But, it’s amazing how age, and kids, relist your priorities in so many ways. I just didn’t expect my own insecurities to be among of them. 

As I gain some sort of wisdom from aging, I keep telling myself. It’s always something. I need to remember that young girl with the metal smile, the girl hiding in the locker room, and the girl layering clothing. Remember how silly she was! And, I know that when I’m 60 (God willing), I’ll look back at this 32 year old and think, “Damn, girl! You were foine!” ;)

While I am still insecure, I am okay with it. It is a part of my life. More than ever before, I can shrug off my insecurities. Yes – I still have random break-downs, where “I have absolutely nothing to wear!” and times when I call myself fat or chubby. But, I don’t find it messing with my happiness, and I don’t let it keep me from being me (most of the time). 

It’s always something…so, I might as well enjoy what I have, while I have it.

Explaining to Lucy

I apologize for beating this horse. It is still weighing heavily on my heart. But, I am hopeful that one day we will find comfort, and perhaps add another beautiful baby to our family.

I did want to share a story with you all though. I am not sure what you think about this, or what I think about it. But, it strikes me as eerily comforting.

When we first told Lucy about the baby, she was excited. She had told us that Olive was a girl before we found out, and had been generally right about guessing genders of babies. So, we, of course, asked her what the baby's gender was. Her reply was, "A girl and a boy."

We obviously took this as twins. So, we would laugh. I would ask, "How many babies are in mommy's tummy?"

She insisted, "One."

But, she would always follow-up with, "Then, a boy."

We just shrugged her off as a three-year-old who was misunderstanding things. I asked her again a couple of days later. Same story.

"A girl, then a boy."

"One baby."

So, she was consistent. But, I just dropped it.

When we found out that our little one went to Heaven, I thought about Lucy's comments. I didn't know what to think about them.

The sad day then came that Lucy said something to me about the baby in my belly. I sat down with her and told her that mommy didn't have a baby in her tummy anymore and that the baby went to Heaven to be with Jesus.

"The baby went to Heaven? To be with Jesus?"

"Yes, hunny." I started to cry.

"Why are you crying, Momma?"

"It just makes me sad."

Then, she said something that reached my soul. I'll never forget it. She bowed her head down in sadness and asked me...

"Momma, the boy is coming now?"

I just hugged her and told her, "Someday, maybe."

I didn't know what to think or do. Could it be that Lucy knew? Could it be that she was to provide us with comfort? For some reason it does bring me comfort, like this was God's plan and he let Lucy in on the secret.

Just felt like sharing...

Numb & Grateful

As I've mentioned in times of sadness, there seems to come a time where you are just numb. I think I am there. I try to talk myself out of reality. Sometimes I feel as if none of this ever happened. The last four weeks didn't really exist; it was a dream turned nightmare.

But, I know it is my reality. We did lose a baby. It happened. I want to forget. I want to remember. I am torn.

I am in a bit of a limbo right now. I still have not miscarried. So, all day I sit and analyze any pain that I feel in my abdomen. Unfortunately, at this point, I hope that it is my body finally starting this process. I want to get it over with. It is going to be tough. But, I want to get it over with...Then, there is this ridiculously optimistic and stupid part of me that says, "Maybe the tech was wrong. Maybe the baby is okay after all."

I know that isn't true. I can feel it. I don't feel pregnant. The symptoms have faded. I think I knew this before I went to the hospital. In retrospect, it makes sense. I never fathomed this though...

I still battle guilt, tremendous guilt. That seems to be the only time that I cry; when I think of something I said that was ungrateful. I complained that both of the girls' birthdays were on the 7th and this baby's wouldn't be. How ridiculous is that?! Or, when I was upset that I would be fat for a wedding in the spring. Selfish. I was so ungrateful. I have undoubtedly been taken back down to reality.

I do want to thank those of you who have reached out to me. I didn't realize that a few of my readers have also experienced this type of loss. Their words were very encouraging and I am seriously grateful that they shared their story with me. It made me feel like I was "normal." And, that what I was feeling was "normal."

It seems that so often we go through this type of pain in silence. If you are like me, it is easier to type to someone, because if you say it aloud, you will cry. That part makes me sad. So, to all of my readers, just know that I am here for you too.

As I wait, I hope you haven't stopped praying for us. I am afraid that one of the hardest parts still awaits me. Please also pray for Heath. He continues to be so strong for me and I am not sure he has had his breakdown moment. He was more excited than anyone about our surprise baby.

I sometimes feel like I let him down...the thought of this breaks my heart.


As I continue to grieve. I hope you don't mind if I bring up our angel baby now and again. I know many like to avoid the "awkward" topic. But, I've been told that there is no wrong way to grieve. Please support me in that. If I want to mention Baby #3, don't feel the need to change the topic or become silent. I want to remember this moment, when I leaned on God more than ever and asked him to speak to me.

Thank you again for your support, thoughts, personal stories, and prayers. I am so incredibly grateful, numb and grateful.

Loss

I debated a few times whether to title this post "Loss" or "Lost."

I guess I should first tell you that this is not a fun story. It is in no way exciting or upbeat. Please do not expect it to be so.

A few weeks ago I was late. And, by late, you know what I mean. I haven't been keeping track of my cycle, so I wasn't exactly sure how late I was. But, Heath and I were fairly certain that there was no need to consider the alternative to having a period; because, we had been careful. As days passed, Heath finally woke me up in the middle of the night one early morning. He insisted that I take a pregnancy test the next morning. I agreed.

I woke up early the next morning and thought about what Heath had said. It got into my head and I couldn't get back to sleep. So, I hopped out of bed and took one. I was shocked. I have taken these many times before. I usually pee, wait, try to decide if a line is showing or not...not this time. As soon as the wetness hit that line, it immediately read positive. I was, well, shocked. I guess Heath and I hadn't been as careful as we thought.

I ran to the stairs and yelled at Heath. He said he just knew it; he was so excited. I was still shocked and well, overwhelmed. I am a planner. It was not in sync with my plan. I had just started graduate school. Olive wasn't even one year old yet. We didn't have a vehicle that could fit three car seats. All three of them would be in high school at one time. I was just overwhelmed.

Heath had a golf tournament that day. So, I was home alone. I literally just sat around all day, freaking out. My heart would race. I was so worried about being able to handle it all. I was afraid that people would call us crazy.

As time passed, we told more and more family and friends. I was excited. Babies are miracles and the best blessings! However, I was not at all prepared for the responsibility and was still worried about it. I kept telling myself that by April, we would be ready. Heath was so excited. I'll be honest; he didn't seem this excited with either of the girls. He just knew this one was a boy. Since it wasn't planned, it was so much more exciting to him. Since it wasn't planned, I was having a much harder time wrapping my brain around it.

I went to the doctor to have it confirmed. I had another freak out moment at the doctor's, when she told me congratulations. I just couldn't believe it was all real. Could I do this?

We weren't really sure when exactly I got pregnant. And, my last period was really light. So, Dr. B suggested that I get an ultrasound. Then, we could know how far along I was. I was excited at the chance of this. I had never had one this early. So, around, what I would guess was at 8 weeks or so, I went in with Heath for an ultrasound.

Checking in was normal. We joked around about twins and wondered if I could really be 12 weeks along or so. We guessed a due date of around April 25th.

"What pregnancy is this for you?"

"My third."

"Two live births?"

"Yes."

"Any miscarriages?"

"No."

We started with a normal ultrasound of my stomach. I had no idea what we were looking at. It was all blobs to me. I did see a blob once that I was guessing might be a little baby spec. But, the tech didn't say anything. She measured stuff. She looked at the colors, which if I recall correctly was blood flow. I felt really uneasy about her demeanor. She wasn't talking us through it at all. I was then asked to go to the restroom and wrap up in a sheet for an internal ultrasound. Once in the bathroom, I could hear her ask for someone else to come into the room.

I tried to talk myself through my uneasiness. I was being paranoid. You know me. I was always worried about this stuff. I came back out and another woman had joined us. They just stared at the screen. They didn't turn it toward us. They didn't say, "Here is your baby." Nothing. I tried to read their faces. It was just stone-cold silence.

I looked at Heath and mouthed, "Is everything okay?"

The tech caught me and asked if I was comfortable. I said, "Yes; I am just worried about all of this."

She didn't respond.

The other woman left the room.

I was fairly certain that I knew at that moment. This wasn't good.

The other woman came back into the silent room.

She asked if I was going to see Dr. B after the ultrasound. I was going to. She said that Dr. B wanted to talk to me about today's results.

I asked, "You can't tell me anything?"

The tech looked at me, curled her mouth downward and said, "We aren't picking up a heartbeat. There was a pregnancy. The baby is measuring 6 weeks and 4 days, but that is as far as this baby got."

I started to sob, hard.

Heath rubbed my arm. He was so strong for me. He kept telling me that everything was going to be okay.

They asked if we needed a moment and I just cried on Heath's shoulder. I had done this. I was overcome with guilt. I had worried about it too much. I had treated this baby like an inconvenience in "my planned out life." I had acted like it didn't fit into my story. The guilt came rushing over me. This was my fault.

They had asked if I wanted ultrasound pictures. I did. I got two pictures of our baby - Baby Christiansen #3. I had already started taking pregnancy photos and filling out a belly book. We had already made plans for this baby - the car seat, when to buy his or her crib, and so on. It wasn't something that we could just ignore and pretend didn't happen or exist.

I took my photos and a book they gave us, "Dealing with Miscarriage," and walked out into the hallway. I quickly tucked the purple book into my bag. I didn't want everyone to see the woman with the purple book and know what had happened.

We got to the car and cried some more. Heath told me that it wasn't my fault. He was just so incredibly strong for me. He kept it together for me and allowed me to sob on his shoulder uncontrollably. I really couldn't ask for a better husband or father for my children.

We finally met with Dr. B. She echoed Heath's comments to me. "This is not your fault. It is nothing you did."

She said I had a bleed. That is fairly common. But, it was too close to the baby and the baby wasn't able to develop. We didn't really ask questions at that point.

I felt so guilty. I had sat in her office less than a week before, crying because I was so overwhelmed. Now, I was sitting here, babyless. How ungrateful am I?! What a terrible person I was. I did want that baby! I did! I loved that baby. I prayed for it.

We discussed the actual miscarrying. I still haven't miscarried. I am carrying around our baby. I am still carrying it with me. The thought of this, just breaks my heart.

I chose to miscarry naturally if I could. I hear that it can be quite emotional and traumatic. I can't bear to think of it. I just want to get it over with and start to feel closure with this loss.

Right now though, I am lost. I don't really know how to move forward. I can't sit still for too long or I start to think about it. I get upset. As quickly as I knew this baby was here, it was gone.

I am just trying to keep busy in the meantime. Heath and I don't really know how to move forward while something like this is still looming. Please just pray for us. We need all the support we can get. Despite what Heath tells me, I still have moments of incredible guilt. How dare I question God's plan? But, again, this must have been his plan. I am still trying to figure out why we were to experience this. I hope he speaks to us soon.

Thank you for all of your prayers. We will make it through this. We are a strong family. Please, if you see me, do not ask me how I am doing. I may just break down into tears. I prefer not to do this in public. I hope that isn't a selfish request...

I hope I can feel "normal" again soon. Before now, I thought that miscarriages were commonplace. I felt sad for them, but I didn't realize how a loss such as this can make you feel so lost.

I debated sharing our story. I thought that it might help me in some way. I like to know that I have a support system out there, praying for us. I am also so forthcoming with you guys about my pregnancies and our life changes. I felt that I needed to share this too, in a way. I thought too that perhaps writing it down might make it feel a little more real to me...I don't know. I just don't know...

Birth Story: Part 3

This is the final installation of the three part story, that is Olive's birth. :) Nothing like 5 months later...

After the actual laboring and birthing, we get to all the oohing and awing that I did. Also, I should really discuss the pain I felt afterward as well. To be honest though, I have forgotten most of it. I waited too long and those memories are fading. They always say that it's the easiest pain to forget and "they" sure are right! Although every time I hear someone say that, I think of my Granny. She had a ten pound baby (my dad) all natural back in 1960. Then, she was bedridden for four days after. I'm sure her pain was a little harder to forget than mine...

Dad, have you thanked Granny lately? You totally should! In fact, your birthday is this Saturday. You should tell her "thank you!"

Anyway,  I will tell you that the night after Olive's birth, I was so thirsty. I hadn't drank anything in over 24 hours; I had only had one cup of ice and nothing else. Plus, I had lost a reasonable amount of blood with the surgery. I begged for something to drink and couldn't have it...darn! The next morning I scarfed down my breakfast and started drinking. But, I was way too into holding Olive and just looking at her to be overly hungry.

I have several, several, pictures like this. I apparently stared at her...a lot. But, I'm sure other mothers can attest. Seeing their face for the first time, that little miracle, is simply amazing. I couldn't get enough!

As the day went on, my blood pressure kept getting really low and they asked me to drink more water. Ugh, the irony. I was slightly annoyed. It went from "can't drink anything" to "drink more."

It was about 14 hours after surgery that I got to take off my massage "booties." Those things were amazing! I loved them. Once they were off, I got my catheter out. Uncomfortable! But, I could get up now! At first, I felt pretty good. Not too much pain. It seriously took over 24 hours before all of the spinal had worn off and I started to really feel the pain. It was worse than a vaginally delivery, for me. When my bladder would get full, I had a lot of pain on the incision. When I would go pee, then it wasn't as bad. So, I kept running to and from the restroom, or rather shuffling to and from. It sure was different than what I had experienced before. Pain in a completely different place, but still all of the gross discomfort...if you women know what I mean.

I really didn't mind though. I was completely on cloud nine. I seriously was on a high. I didn't get irritated at all and was just as happy as I could be. It was different than with Lucy. Perhaps my body has changed, or I have...something like that. The high lasted until, well, basically until I went back to work. Whomp, whomp. I won't beat that dead horse, so moving on...

Lucy came to visit and spent most of the second day with us. She loved seeing her new, baby sister.

She even held her for photos. When someone would talk to her, she would stick her fingers to her lips and tell us that her baby sister was sleeping. :) She's a great big sister!

The day we got out of the hospital, Lucy was there again. We wanted to make sure we got to experience these things as a family!


Then, it started. Olive was upset. I had to feed her before we hit the road. We sat the girls down to take this photo, and Lucy pooped her pants - more delay. They were breaking us in right away, to having two! That is alright though. Cloud nine...

I was welcomed home to this wonderful display my mom and sister put together - presents for all!

 

Oh boy, now that I've waited 5 months, this post is giving me baby fever. No way, Jose. We really would need a van then!

The rest is wonderful, laid-back, best baby in the world, knock-on-wood, history. :)

Birth Story: Part 2

After finally getting to the surgery room, I felt great. I was a little scared of the spinal and I was still having contractions. But, to know there was an end in sight felt wonderful. Also, I had been to that surgery room before, when I had my gallbladder taken out; so, there was some familiarity to it all.

The spinal had a little sting to it, and I would say was very comparable to an epidural. It took a while, so I asked a few questions of the anesthesiologist. How much will I feel? Will this make me nauseous? How does it only numb me from the arms down?

I had drank some tart, grape drink before I went down to surgery. It was supposed to help with the nausea. I was hoping so. I had heard horror stories about women throwing up during their entire surgery. Nothing sounded worse than throwing up while laying on your back. Plus, talk about a moment ruiner...

I was on my back, arms strapped down, and the sheet was up before Heath was escorted into the room. They had already asked how much I could feel. It was the most bizarre feeling. With an epidural, it was somewhat scary to me. I felt completely out of control and almost paralyzed. I hated looking at my leg, trying to move it, and being unable to do so. It truly freaked me out. With the spinal, I could feel. But, I couldn't feel everything. I could feel them rubbing stuff on my belly, which I was told would normally seem cold. I only felt the movement and not the coldness. Then, she started to make the incision. I remember knowing that she was about to cut, when Heath came by the sheet. I thought for sure that he would see the blood and pass out on the spot.

When he got to me, he was feeling pretty good. He had popped a Xanax upstairs and was what I would describe as three-beer-Heath. He was invincible and when they told him that he could stand to watch, he did! I kept asking him, "Are you sure? Are you okay?"

Getting Olive out only took a few minutes. This is what I heard:

"Okay, get ready to meet Baby Olive."

"Oh, she has hair!"

"Heath, get the camera ready."

"She's no peanut."

"Here she is!"

Heath stood up the whole time, snapping pictures with the camera in one hand and video recording with his phone in the other. The video is great! :) It is kind of gross though, and so are the pictures. I thought I would spare you.

She was born at 6:42 pm.

As soon as I heard her let out her first wail, I broke down. I just cried and cried. It still wasn't quiet real to me. Nothing quiet prepares you for hearing your baby cry for the first time, or seeing them either. While I was blubbering, unable to wipe away my tears, Dr. B leaned Olive over the sheet for me to see. In her gross, bloody, crying state, she looked like Lucy. Then, as quickly as she was there, she was gone. They took her across the room to check her. Heath followed, snapping pictures like crazy.

 

We all anticipated the weight. I overheard a conversation between Dr. B and the nurses on how much they thought she'd weigh. Dr. B was pretty close, saying that she thought she would be close to 9 lbs. She was 8 lbs and 11.5 ounces. She was 2.5 ounces more than Lucy and a week early! The shocker for me was, she was 21 inches long! That was 2 inches longer than Lucy. I just kept repeating it over and over. "21 inches? Wow, really? 21 inches?"

Olive cried and cried, until Heath said something to her. It seemed as though she recognized his voice, because she immediately stopped. It was so sweet. It warmed my heart. 

Olive and Heath were off to my right and a little over my head. After about ten minutes of watching, my neck and eyes started to hurt from straining. So, I stopped and laid flat again. Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks the 36 hours of little to no sleep. I was so tired. It was like my body knew that it was over and Olive was okay. I let my eyes close a few times as I jerked them back open. Finally, I called Heath over. "I'm going to close my eyes and I might fall asleep, is that okay?" 

I felt like a jerk; but, I literally couldn't stay awake. He of course told me that was alright, as he went back to Olive. I then fell in and out of sleep for the next hour or so. I woke up once because I was nauseous. I thought I might throw up. When I told the anesthesiologist, she got me a "throw-up sleeve," as I like to call them. Dr. B heard me and said that she was pushing on my stomach and that was probably what was causing it. Thank goodness the nausea passed and before I knew it the sheet was pulled down.

While they were moving me to a bed, Dr. B went to check on Olive. She is such a caring person and you can tell that she loves her job!

Funny story about the nurse in the maroon, over Dr. B's shoulder. She was a student when I had Lucy. I remembered her, only because her name is also my middle name. When she came in for the surgery and introduced herself, I immediately asked if she was a student back in February 2010. It was her. She was present for both of my girls. :)

Once settled, I finally got to hold her too. :)

She still looked a lot like Lucy to me.

We were taken to the recovery room, where I was able to have a few guests. I asked for Heath to go tell my sister to bring Lucy down. Little did I know, Dr. B had already went to get Lucy! haha. :) I think she was excited too.

Lucy was pretty excited and surprisingly not freaked out at all by the hospital. She rubbed Olive's head and talked to her. For the first time that evening, Heath cried. My sister did too. It was a special moment.

We finally got back upstairs around 9:30 pm. Good thing we have our babies on the weekend. :)

Everyone was thrilled. I have to say though, do you see Heath's sister's boyfriend over in the corner with his arms crossed? Haha. I have a picture similar to this one, when Lucy was born. Except, then, my cousin was keeping him company. I just don't think men/boys are into this stuff as much, unless it's their baby or grand-baby.

Everyone stayed only for a while and left to let me sleep. I was able to breastfeed her downstairs in the recovery room. So, I waited until the next feeding and then let the nurse take her to the nursery. We learned from Lucy, that for us, it was better for her to go to the nursery. I didn't have any trouble sleeping and was excited each and every time they brought her in to feed.

- To Be Continued -

Birth Story: Part 1

September 6th - Induction day!

Following what was arguably the longest day at work ever, I said farewell to my co-workers and giddily got into our car for home. I was antsy to say the least. I just wanted to get the show on the road. I was so ready in all senses of the word. Ready to meet her. Ready for newborn cuddles. Ready to take 8 weeks off work. Ready to bend over and tie my shoes again. Ready, ready, ready.

We got home and tried to go about our usual business. Heath fed Lucy supper while I took a shower. Our bags were already packed - had been for over a week. I checked my list for last minute items to add. Phone, phone charger, makeup, etc. Check. I was ready. We took one last photo of our family of three, knowing that it would never again be the same. Life changes were happening. :)

We hopped into the car to take Lucy out to my mom's house. We were on time, for once, and were scheduled to arrive at the hospital about ten minutes before 8 pm. We said a quick goodbye to Lucy and told her that we were on our way to "go get" Olive. She was basically oblivious to the whole idea and was completely fine with us leaving her.

On the way to Sonic to pick up one last 32 ounce, iced water, my phone rang. Another woman was currently delivering a baby and they had to move me back "a few hours." The nurse told me that it might be closer to 11 pm before we were asked to come in.

I cried.

I had anticipated this moment and just wanted to be at the hospital, feeling like it was at least coming! Heath tried to make me feel better. I was just so disappointed that I would have to wait even longer. We went back to the house and thank goodness my sister came over to keep us company. It helped pass the time.

At 11 pm I called the hospital to see what was going on. The nurse told me to go ahead and come on in. I was ready and about to fall asleep. I couldn't even tell you the last time I had been up until 11 pm! A smart mommy-to-be would have taken a nap.

I arrived in good spirits. I filled out all of the appropriate paperwork, put my gown on, got weighed (under my goal weight - whoo-hoo!), and got my IV. Heath and my sister sat nearby, sleepily. I was finally ready to go around 1 am. Before giving me Cytotec to soften my cervix, the nurse checked my progress. I was certain that I had surpassed 2 cm, since I had been having a lot of Braxton-Hicks contractions all week. I was completely disappointed when she said that I was still at 2 cm. However, I was only 2 cm when I came to the hospital with Lucy. So, I was hopeful!

At this point I was already having Braxton-Hicks that were showing up on the contraction monitor. Dr. B had told me that the Cytotec might possibly be enough to send me into labor, especially since I was a second-time mother. That it did...

Just 20 minutes or so after getting it, my contractions became somewhat consistent. By 2 am I was having considerable contractions that were about 5 minutes apart and realized at that point that I would not be sleeping for the night. By 4 am, I was having to "breath" through them and couldn't talk. I was in pain.

When the nurse checked me again, I was certain that I would at least be at 3 cm or more. I was just holding on through those contractions, thinking that an epidural would be coming soon. She checked and I was still 2 cm. What?! I couldn't believe it. I teared up, trying not to be an emotional, sleepy mess. I couldn't believe that I wasn't making progress. The contractions continued.

I walked. I lunged. I did squats. I sat and bounced on a ball. I changed positions. I rocked in a rocking chair. All of this made the contractions stronger and hurt more. I had to be getting somewhere!

I was checked again right about the time the sun came back up. Still no progress. I was crushed. This time, the nurse couldn't even reach my cervix; it was obvious that Olive's head was no longer down. I felt that all of the "work" that my body was doing and the pain I was feeling was literally for nothing. It was so frustrating.

Dr. B came in around 7:15 am. She felt my stomach and checked me. No progress. She couldn't reach my cervix either. She told me that she thought Olive had flipped and was was breach. The nursing team brought in an ultrasound machine to make sure. Dr. B and another doctor both said it looked like she was breach. They called in an ultrasound tech to make sure. While we were waiting, she explained the c-section process to me. I had already come to terms with it. I was experiencing painful contractions and had been for about five hours. Dr. B explained that she didn't think I was progressing because the baby's head pushing down on my cervix is what causes dilation. Since her head wasn't engaged, I wasn't progressing.

I had rolled over while waiting for the tech. Apparently Olive took that opportunity to move again. By time the tech arrived, Olive was head down again. She still wasn't engaged; but, she was in the right direction. We were back on for a vaginal delivery. I admit it; I cried again. I was tired and not getting anywhere. I was heartbroken, thinking that I was going to have to endure the pain even longer and was scared that I still wouldn't have any progress. Dr. B was very supportive though and said we had to focus on getting Olive to move down. I knew that I preferred a vaginally birth, as did Heath; so, I sucked it up and decided to "push on."

The contractions continued as they decided to go ahead with the Pitocin. They thought that the Pitocin might make my uterus contract harder and push Olive down. It only made the contractions more frequent. The nurse checked me again before noon. I was prepared for her to say that there was still no progress. The pessimistic outlook made the news easier to swallow. My dad and step-mom showed up soon after and served as good distractions from the pain and disappointment of no progress.

At 4 pm, I looked at the clock. I had been having these painful contractions for over 12 hours now. I was exhausted. I felt like it was never going to end. The nurse checked me again - nothing. They couldn't break my water either, because Olive's head wasn't engaged. So, we couldn't take the risk of the umbilical cord coming out first. They just kept increasing the Pitocin.

Dr. B finally returned around 5:30 pm. We talked and she gave me the option of either a c-section or going home and trying another day. I was convinced that I would continue to have the contractions at home, on my own. I had been all night. Plus, I was not at all mentally prepared to experience this all again. I was in low, low spirits at this point. I agreed to the c-section. Dr. B asked several times if I was sure, since I had not wanted a c-section.

I was ready though. Ready, ready, ready. I was also exhausted. I was finally taken to the surgery room around 6:30 pm. Heath was taken to the prep room. Unfortunately my sister couldn't be in the room. I asked if she could be dressed and ready though, just in case Heath's Xanax didn't kick in. (He did great though.)

As soon as they took me off that damn Pitocin, I was doing much better! I was still having contractions; but, they were much farther apart. I was ready for my spinal and to meet my baby girl! I was actually smiling, knowing that the time had finally come!

 - To Be Continued -

Dear...

Dear Olive...I am unbelievably anxious for your arrival. Pregnancy, during the time, always feel like it lasts forever; but when I think of announcing we were pregnant in February, I can't believe at how fast these months have gone!


Dear Oreos...it's been real. I've enjoyed these last 8 months or so. I won't be seeing you again until I reach a reasonable weight. Take care!

Dear Uterus...tonight's the big night. Please be good to me. Let's go with minimally painful contractions until I can get an epidural. Thanks.

Dear Lucy...I love you baby girl. We will always have a special bond, since you were my first little girl. However, please know that I will have a bond with Olive too. Each of you are special and I will always have enough time and love for you both. In fact, I may smother you two and make you abandon me during your teen years...

Dear Chico...believe it or not, my foot is not your chair; quit sitting on it.

Dear Dad...yes, I posted a picture of my big ole' nasty foot. At least the big toe is hidden.

Dear Heath...look at what you are doing to our little girl. I am literally lying in bed at night with two tech geeks. :) As long as it pays her bills when she gets older...haha.


Dear September...check out a calendar. You are the beginning of autumn. So, don't be giving me this 95 degree weather, trying to be like August. You are better than that! Seriously. Everyone liked you better before. Now, give me light jacket weather. Please.

Dear Lucy...I am sorry that I can't build tents like Daddy. First of all, I don't get zip-ties from the garage, I'm a little more old school. And, second, it's hard to crawl on the floor with this belly! I promise that I'll be back on the floor with you soon enough.


Dear Readers...sorry if during the next 6 or 8 weeks I am a little MIA. I will be taking care of a new bundle of joy! :) I hope to stop in and share my birth story, along with any updates and several photos; however, you know how I am about that sometimes! :{ Perhaps I will write you in the middle of the night, in lieu of smothering Heath with a pillow...haha. (Don't get that? Check out Tuesday's post.)

Dear Husband...I cannot believe we are bringing another miracle into this world. I am so happy to be sharing my life with you. You are the best thing to ever happen to me; you gave me these wonderful blessings! :) I wouldn't change a thing with our life and I appreciate and love you so much. Remember these words when I am a raging 'B' over the next few weeks. :)

Everyone - have a great rest of September and hopefully you will hear from me soon. Watch Heath's Facebook account for updates. I will also try to give exclusive updates to 'I Love Lucy Jean' Facebook group members. :) Ah, the perks! :)

Pray for us that everything goes well! :)

38 Week Update

I come bearing pictures. Okay, picture.

Alright, alright. I can give you a few more. The last time you had a picture of just me was at 34 weeks; I've been slacking:

She's bigger and lower. But, I don't appear too much bigger than when I was pregnant with Lucy:

 

I am definitely lower though! Perhaps my butt is bigger too? I blame the shirt. Alright, enough of my huge photos...

How far along?

I am 38 weeks, 6 days, going on eternity! I swear I have been pregnant forever and I wish the risk of "going early" would have never been introduced to my psyche. I only have 31 hours before I check into the hospital! Only 30 hours before I leave for the hospital! I am going insane waiting...

Baby is the size of...

a leek? Again, no idea what that is. She is so strong and she seems pretty big, but I seriously do have a feeling that she is going to be about the same size as Lucy was, especially with the picture evidence I showed you above.  According to BabyCenter, she is approximately 20 inches long and anywhere between 7 and 8 lbs. We will soon see.

Symptoms:

I  have been pretty achy. My hips hurt pretty bad lately. I had a theory that it was related to my intake of water in the evening. I think I am still kind of right about it; however, not just my hips hurt anymore. My pelvis literally aches. I told Heath that from my boobs to my knees just aches sometimes. She is definitely taking a toll on my body! I think it's because she's so low and I stand/walk weird to compensate.

I still have the usual: swelling in my ankles and feet, leaky breasts, gassy, occasional nausea, headaches that come and go, and the crazy common Braxton-Hicks contractions.

This week though, I have added a sinus cold, thing. I am not sure if it is allergies (because I don't generally have allergies), or if it is pregnancy related. I read online that it can happen due to the increase in hormones late in pregnancy. Either way, I am stuffy. I wish it was running! It just stays in my head and causes me to sound weird and I can't breathe sometimes. Bah.

Anything New?
No! Nothing is new. I am going insane! Okay, so I'm a bit dramatic. Some of you ladies understand the feeling of the last weeks, right? I did have my doctor's appointment. I was almost 2 cm; Dr. B said she could call it 2 cm dilated. So, that is what I am going with. From zero to two? Sounds good to me. I better be more now, with all the Braxton-Hicks that I've been feeling. I look at it this way, two less centimeters that I don't have to contract through!

She didn't really mention if I was effaced or not; but, she did say that Olive's head was down. In fact, she poked Olive's head and Olive hated it! She moved like crazy and did quite the number on me. Dr. B also stripped my membranes. I have had a lot of people ask me what that means exactly. Well, here you go:

According to the first site listed on Google (something mommies.com), "Stripping membranes is a relatively simple procedure that can be performed in the doctor’s office and is usually performed during a routine exam. The doctor or midwife places their fingers into the opening of the cervix and attempts to gently separate the amniotic sac from the uterus."

We also did a stress test, with Olive hooked up to a monitor for about half an hour. She passed with flying colors. :)

New with Heath?
He is babying Lucy like mad. You can definitely tell that he is a first child and I'm a second. He is so concerned about Lucy with the transition. I am probably a bit more concerned about giving Olive the individualized attention that Lucy received as a baby.  I know that we will both have to meet in the middle. :) It's that odd balance that I have talked about in previous posts.

Lucy has been able to fall asleep in our bed the last two nights, "because they are the last few nights where it will just be the three of us," Heath says. He was really thrown off this morning when I said that this will be our last evening at home without Olive. I wish we had something planned...

New with Lucy?
Besides being spoiled by Heath, not much. Her world is about to be thrown through a loop. I don't think she knows what to expect or that it is even happening. We talk to her about Olive, but she has no sense of time. Overall, I really do think she will be alright through the transition. I think this because I know that with Lucy, Heath often felt like he couldn't take part since I was breast feeding. So, I think there will still be plenty of Heath and Lucy rolling around on the floor moments, while mommy holds Olive.

I really do think that Lucy will be excited to help out with Olive too. She loves to play with her baby dolls. I just need to get her some "real" diapers for her dolls and some other baby items that she can use on her babies, while I'm using them on Olive. :)

Anything else?
I better not complain anymore. I'm becoming quite the downer lately. I just can't wait. I try not to ever wish time away, so I'll have to do something more tonight than sit in front of the television...hmmm...any suggestions?