baby whit // a birth story.

Each birth story is unique, raw and real - teaching us about love and, ultimately, about ourselves.

When I birthed Cormac six years ago (at precisely 4:44pm on a blazing hot July day) that first night I thought nothing of writing his birth story, but spent the entire time bedridden, still with zero feeling from the waist down, catheter inserted, completely exhausted, with absolutely no idea what to do with the sweet, hungry, crying baby whose diapers my husband had to change.  I didn't write his story until months later, when I finally felt like I had processed it all, and was not in a new mama haze.

// Read that story here //

I remember after birthing Finola I sat up that entire first night (she was born at 9:12pm) grinning happily to myself, high on birth hormones, and writing out her birth story in my head as she rested peacefully in my arms.  I refused to put her down.  Everything had gone in such a way I wanted to replay it over and over in my mind.

// Read that story here //

Flash forward four years.  I'm older.  Maybe a bit wiser, but mostly older.  And much more tired.

Hubby and I finally decided, after much prayer and deliberation, to give it another whirl, leave it up to God and see what happens.  We wound up very quickly with a positive pregnancy test back in early January.  (Oh, those Christmastime conceptions!)

While I didn't blog much about it, mostly tiny blurbs on Instagram, this pregnancy was very similar to my others.  Lots of first trimester all-day nausea, a lovely second tri, and then a very uncomfortable third tri.  Weirdly, I gained the exact same about of weight each time, although this time I focused more on eating healthy, rather than hitting the gym every single day as I did with Finola. Being older I was simply more tired, more busy with the other two children, and to be honest it just got really uncomfortable doing cardio.

Even without being on the treadmill all the time I really thought this baby would come early, like Finola did.  But at my 36 week check I was only dilated 1-2cm (versus 5cm at that point with Fin!)

So I decided to stop getting cervical checks.  It is optional at my midwife practice and honestly I was feeling a bit unprepared to give birth anyway, as our nursery was basically a hollow shell at that point.

The month before my due date was spent hustling to get the nursery, and my mind, prepared for a third baby.

In that final week I thought I could go into labor at any time.  The Braxton-Hicks contractions I'd been having for quite a while got a bit more intense but nothing timeable.  Almost every night I'd wake up from them, or severe heartburn, and then go back to bed after an hour of no real action.  In truth, I dreaded going into labor during the night because I didn't want to go into the process super tired, and didn't want to stress about getting in touch with someone to come stay with the kids.

I believe I was mentally blocking this labor.

My due date of September 13th came and went.  I couldn't believe it.  Wasn't the third baby supposed to come early and basically fly out???  Kidding.  I didn't really think it would go quicker but honestly did think I would go early.

I was mentally preparing for the labor and birthing as best I could.  It was the same "plan" as last time, but this time I'd be incorporating my essential oils into the process.  Every day I diffused oils like Valor, Peace + Calming, and Release in our home - to help get my mind and body supported for the birth.  I applied Joy and Sacred Mountain to my skin and my diffuser bracelet regularly to feel grounded and happy for baby's arrival.

I had also read a couple books on hypnobirthing, although I admit I didn't wholeheartedly buy into it -- an "easy, pain-free birth."   To be clear, I think that can happen...but when you doubt something I don't think your brain is able to hurdle that doubt and block the pain.  You have to truly believe it...

...and I was more in the "This is going to hurt like hell, but I'm powerful enough to let my body do it's job" mindset.  Warrior versus zen mama.

We hired a doula again to be there as my liason with hospital staff and emotional support birthing coach.  I know most people just have their husband/partner be that...but Paul knows he is best appreciated as a silent encourager who is simply present with me.

Here is how it all officially went down - early on a Saturday morning, with the other two kids already safely in Louisville with their grandparents (phew!)

3:30am
I woke up with a contraction that was stronger than the usual Braxton-Hicks.  Knowing I was several days past due and that I could be in labor at any time, I got up immediately, noted the time, and tentatively started gathering some last minute items to put in our bags.  I had slept in the comfy tank dress I had worn the day before because I really wanting it to be my "birthing outfit" -- as opposed to a hospital gown.  As the contractions continued every ten minutes or so, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and got ready to leave.  Something in my gut (or uterus) told me this was it.  The contractions were now about 8 minutes apart and there was noticeably more pressure.  And some bleeding, which was another good sign.

4:30am
Texted my doula to let her know about the consistent contractions, and that I planned to call my midwife soon.  I told her most likely would be heading to the hospital.  Then I woke Paul up and told him that Baby's arrival was imminent!  Called midwife office and when the midwife on duty called back she said she would meet me at the hospital.  I reminded her (as I was told to) that last time I went really quickly.  But I think that since my last check (weeks ago) was only 1-2cm no one seemed really worried.

5:00am
Texted doula that we were headed to hospital and would meet her there!

5:30am
We arrived at the hospital, which was quiet in the early morning hour.  Encountered a random person, presumably a new dad, who led us to the floor where we were supposed to check in.  I had been having pretty intense contractions since we arrived -- and was finding it hard to concentrate on his friendly and excited banter.  Paul chatted with him while I silently breathed through each surge.

When the nurses at registration heard my last check was 1-2cm (weeks ago!) they had me fill out a bunch of paperwork and then put me in triage.

Triage nurse : "Here is a gown to put on." 

Me : "Um...can I just wear this?" gesturing to my tank dress.

Triage nurse, blank-faced : "Um...I guess so."

She immediately starts to hook me up to the fetal monitor.   I interject that I don't want to be hooked up to the fetal monitor.  She says she needs to have at least 15 minutes of fetal monitoring.  I agree only when she tells me she will then take me off the monitor.  I did not want to be stuck to a machine in any way.

At this point, with the doula not having arrived yet, I am direly wishing I had brought a copy of my birth plan.  I was having some scary flashbacks to my experience laboring in the hospital with Cormac, when I felt completely alone and that none of my birth preferences were being adhered to.  I now knew I had to speak up for myself and make sure things happened the way I wanted...or at least as much as I could.

By this point the contraction intensity was about a seven and they were only about two minutes apart.  The nurse checked me and pronounced me 5-6cm dilated and 90% effaced.  Good progress but I was surprised I wasn't farther along.

I was very anxious to get to my labor/delivery room and out of triage.  All the tub rooms were occupied, but I was told I would at least have a shower.  Waiting to get unhooked from the monitor was taking what felt like a lifetime.

6:20am
Finally, when the contractions were starting to become blinding, and still no sign of my doula or midwife to check me, I was brought to my room, still hooked to monitor.  I got through a few contractions lying on the table, and then asked if I could labor in the shower.  The contractions were now about only a minute apart.  This forced the nurse to unhook me from the monitor.  I was feeling very nauseous, and the pressure "down there" was becoming so intense that I had to stumble bow-legged to the shower, legs shaking violently.  Mentally I was trying to hold it together, trying to be calm and breathe through each contraction steadily, in through my nose ABCDEFG, out through my mouth HIJKLMNOP, or something to that effect.  I knew I had to stay on top of every contraction, but was finding it very difficult.

Paul, for his part, knowing I did not want to be touched or hear his chipper words of encouragement, set about plugging in my diffuser, dropping in some Peace and Calming, and texting my doula for her status.

6:40am
My doula arrives I believe at approximately this time.  I feel a sense of relief in some ways that I finally have someone to help me through the last, most difficult waves.

In the 45-60 seconds of relief between contractions, I kept asking for my midwife.

"Where is the midwife?!?!  She needs to check me."  I knew I was close.  I felt all the things I felt when I transitioned with Finola.

Including : the sense that I could no longer deliver naturally.  I was starting to feel panicked.

"Okay, I am too old for this.  I need the epidural.  Order me the epidural now." 

Both Paul and my doula told me I could do it, I'd done it before, etc. etc.  I was hearing none of it, as I felt literally like I would die if I couldn't push the baby out soon.  The "urge to push" is what I was experiencing.  In fact, most likely I had transitioned in the shower and probably reached 10cm fifteen minutes prior.

I was then informed the midwife was on her way.  I was disappointed it wasn't one that I saw regularly.  In fact, this was the midwife I'd only seen one time throughout my pregnancy!

7:00am
Midwife gets there, I get on the table quickly to be checked, still dripping wet and naked from the shower.  She immediately exclaims happily, "You're complete!  You can start pushing!"

Music to my ears!

For the next seven minutes, I was in the zone.  Conscious of everything.

The huge light descended from the ceiling.  The room filled with people.  Women.  Paul was the only male.

The doula and a nurse held my knees up by my head as I quickly recalled how to "bear down" and push when a contraction happened.

"Here's one!" I exclaimed and did whatever I could to make that baby come on out.  Yep, I totally pooped on the table and I couldn't care less.

I screamed each time I pushed.  Not the gutteral, animal moans I did with Finola.  High-pitched shrieks.  Three of them.  In the back of my mind I silently apologized to any other laboring mamas hearing me from neighboring rooms.

7:07am
I felt the baby's head come out.  There was no stopping now - I gave another loud shriek and pushed!

The rest of baby slid out quickly.

The greatest relief.  Honest first thought : "I did it...and I'm never gonna have to do it again."  There was no sadness...just absolute certainty.

Somewhere in the chaos of the room, with Baby shrieking all kinds of new baby cries, I heard Paul announce, "It's a boy!"

I felt ambivalent about the gender.  Baby was out.  Baby was crying.  It was good.

I cried, too.  A brief, ugly cry.

this is real.  the best feeling.  

When they handed him to me and I marveled at his tiny size.  So much smaller than the other two.  Long delicate fingers and toes.   I held him close while the midwife went immediately about the business of delivering the placenta, etc.

"Whitman Paul is his name," I heard Paul say, so they could write it on the board.  But they only wrote Whitman, along with the date and time.

"Baby Whit,"  I said lovingly to him and him alone, knowing the name would be perfect for him.

The birthing hormones were surging through my body as I put him to breast not long after.  He latched as if he had been practicing every day for the past nine months.  We were off to a good start together.

Everything ended well, baby in arms, a beautiful boy.  Praise be to God.

"...and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have its richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body."  - Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

We LOVE you Baby Whit.

And because your journey began way back in January, with a completely overwhelmed mama finding out she was preggo...

...here is a look back at all of it.

oils + my birth plan.

I am kinda stunned to be typing that I am officially 39 weeks.  It's about to get real, ya'll!

This is my third time around, and is is my very first official oily birth plan. 

Had I heard that term a few years ago I would have been like, "Welp, that sounds gross."

However,  I've learned that essential oils can truly support you physically and mentally before, during, and after childbirth. 

With Finola my doula brought oils to warm so that my midwife could soften the perineum and prevent tearing or the need for an episiotomy.  That was amazing in that my recovery time was MUCH shorter not having to heal from that!  At that point that was my only experience with essential oils, but it was a positive one.
Since becoming a part of Young Living and researching oils and birthing I know that this time I want to incorporate a few other oils into the process. So here it is, my...

Release - to diffuse in the days leading up to my due date -- or as soon as I start having official signs of labor.  This has a beautiful scent and promotes the release of negative emotions.  I really want to go into things with a positive mindset so that the experience is the best it can be for both me and babe.
Peppermint - for nausea support, something that I experienced last time when I neared the transition stage.
Valor - I have a roller blend which consists of several oils, but mainly Valor, which I call 'brave mama' that I use regularly.  I plan to roll on shoulders during the birthing process to promote empowerment and confidence!  I've also recently been putting drops on my lava stone diffuser bracelet to boost my bravery for this birth.
Peace + Calming - to diffuse in the birthing room, for obvious reasons.
Frankincense - to anoint the baby after birth.  Perhaps more of a symbolic, romantic thing...but I love the idea of this so my Frank will be ready.  Plus, it is such a lovely grounding oil. Also can be used in direct application to perineal area during birth.  Frank is a wonderful skin support oil!

Other oils in 'My Bag' :
Panaway roller - comes in starter kit and I basically always have a roller ball fitment on it!   This one is good for aching muscles! Also to roll on temples/back of neck for headaches!
Thieves roller  - for general wellness support - can't go a day without this one!
Rose Ointment - for lips, décolletage, any other dry/chapped skin issues.
Fennel - to support a healthy milk supply
Gentle Baby - to wear and diffuse once babe has arrived.  The most beautiful scent!

So those are the oils what I will have on-hand for myself and my birth support team at the hospital (hubby, doula, midwife, and nurses.) I have already made sure this is all going to be acceptable.  I'm not sure all traditional obstetricians would be cool with all the oily goodness, so if you desire an oily birth make sure to talk in-depth with your doc/midwife WAY ahead of time (like, as soon as you know you are preggo) about their views and what may or may not be allowed in the birthing room. (It may inspire you to choose a different doc/venue!)

I also make sure that eating/drinking will be allowed if need be during my labor process.  While I want to labor at home for as long as possible, I also know that "stuff happens" and if I have to spend a lot of time in the labor/delivery room I might need sustenance.  Not all hospitals are cool with that, especially if you think you might opt for an epidural.  So again, ask ahead of time.

A few books I've read + found helpful:

• Ina May's Guide to Childbirth by Ina May Gaskin
• Gentle Babies by Debra Raybern 
• Hypnobirthing : The Mongan Method by Marie M. Mongan

As with all plans, it could change at the last minute!  I've learned to expect the unexpected with birthing babies.  But, it is nice to have a some sort of plan you desire written out and discussed with your birth support team in advance, so everyone is on the same page with your desires, whatever they may be.

Have you used oils during pregnancy + birthing?  If so, what else would you recommend?

baby three.

Another baby grows in my belly. Our third. Likely our last. One final tie-breaker blondie.

Since having Finola nearly four years ago I really struggled with whether or not we should have another.  I went through periods of depression.  Anxiety with two tiny babies, whose lives I fear for and pray over ever single day.  Insecurity about my ability to raise our kids well.  Frustration about the messiness and lack of control that comes with motherhood.

So for several years I prayed to God for clarity.  None came.  I thought maybe I would come across a "calling" in the meantime that would move my focus from pregnancy to something else fulfilling.  A career outside the home?  Fostering?  A side business?  A specific direction to take this blog?

No "calling" presented itself.  Well, except the call to change a lot about myself.  I wrote in this post about the spiritual and mental changes that happened in 2016.  I think God really needed me to change some things about how I deal with my emotions before I could even begin to think about another baby.  I needed to deal with (eliminate) some sources of stress, and let go of certain things I could not change.  He wanted me closer to Him, and more focused upon what really matters.

Hubby and I discussed the probability of another baby at least once a week for three years. Sometimes I was adamant it was a "no."  Sometimes I would feel our family simply wasn't complete. Other times I jealously didn't want to give my attention to another child.  Hubby, for his part, also waffled a bit but always said he would be happy either way.  (Smart man.)

For me it was a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions and jumbled prayers.

Finally, around the holidays we made a "decision."  I put that in quotes because I think it was more that we just got tired of talking about it.  We decided to stop "preventing" but also to not try to obsessively pinpoint my specific ovulation days.  To just give it up to God and say whatever will be will be.  Lord, if you want this for us, your will be done.  If not, we will be okay with that, too.  

There was a lot of relief and freedom in just giving it over to Him.

In my heart I thought, Clearly God will say I'm not able to handle another!

However, lo and behold, not long after we returned from our post-Christmas trip to Minnesota I was a day late with my period.  With trepidation I quickly took a pregnancy test that night right before dinner.

Positive - immediately.  Of course I was excited -- but a nervous excitement!  There was no ceremony when I told Paul the news.  The kids were running around wild + screaming after we finished eating, and Hubby was still sitting there - so I just slid the test across the island to him and said, "Guess what!"

That was at four weeks.  Now I'm fourteen weeks and while I won't go into all the minute details of my first trimester as I've done on this blog in the past, I will say that this pregnancy has been almost identical to the previous two - SUPER nauseous all day every day from week six through week twelve.   Had to eat constantly, or I felt like I had to vomit.  Nothing sounded appetizing, so basically I ate whatever sounded tolerable.  Almost like clockwork at twelve weeks I started feeling better - at least able to enjoy eating again and prepare food without feeling like I was going to yack.

What is different this time I have two kiddos experiencing it right alongside me...and man, are they excited!  We shared the news with them on Valentine's Day -- tying in the 'day of love' with what we love...our little family, including their new sib!

Before we shared the news I kinda thought they already knew...I wasn't really making great effort to hide my discomfort and growing belly - which started popping MUCH earlier this time.  I felt like I was constantly saying to them, "Be careful of Mama's belly - please don't jump on it!" without really explaining why all of a sudden bouncing on my tummy was discouraged.

Despite all that, the kids seemed surprised and REALLY happy!  Phew!  I was nervous a bit about Finola feeling displaced as the baby (like I did when my younger bro came along) but she seems over-the-moon!  She randomly exclaims, "I can't wait to meet our baby!"  Cormac, not surprisingly, is constantly talking to the baby (my belly) and telling him/her EVERYTHING.  Already he wants this child to be influenced by his strong opinions.  Mainly, it must like "villains" and the color green.

Finola, rather than chattering loudly to my belly, whispers to it almost inaudibly.  Perhaps they are sisters already telling secrets?

Of course, I know anything can happen.  I'm trying to just remind myself every day of what we have, that God has plans greater than mine, and to pray for this baby just like I do for the others.

It is a delicate balance of worry and joy.

Here are the few 'bump shots' I have.  I meant to take cute "announcement pics" with my DSLR - but, as with probably everything else with the third child my best intentions went out the window!  From one third child to another -- sorry baby, but you may need to get used to it!

six weeks.  baby or post-chipotle?

Eight weeks. 

Getting bigger!  Twelve weeks - visiting my sis in MT. 

Our family is excited for this next chapter in our lives -- and appreciate any prayers (and advice) for being a family of five!

"kiss that belly" {goodbye!}

When I was pregnant my toddler would always come up to me, tug my shirt up and kiss my enormous pregnant belly.  This unsolicited affection always made my day, and made me daydream about how, once the baby was born, they would love each other.  You see, I viewed the kisses as his love for his future sibling, whom I would talk to him about constantly.

ready to pop.  yeah, that belly button will never be the same.

But I think I had it all wrong.

Now that I am not pregnant, and haven't been for almost three months, Cormac still kisses my tummy.  He will stand at my feet, point to it, and say urgently, "Kiss that belly!"  and will not move on until I have bent down, exposed a part of my belly, and let him plant one right on it.

Tears always fill my eyes.  But now for a different reason: because he loves me and my postpartum belly unconditionally.  Even if I don't love it.   Even though it makes me feel vulnerable and self-conscious.  Cormac knows nothing of those insecurities.

He only knows that that he loves me...and that "Din-ola came out of that belly!" 

+ + + + + + + 

Even though my toddler has unconditional love for his mama, extra belly fat or not, my feelings are another story.

A post-partum tummy is a sore spot (no pun intended) for many woman after they have had a baby (or two, or three...) and isn't necessarily something we want to expose.

My belly is not what it used to be.  After two pregnancies, even though I managed to elude any stretch marks, my belly button has been distorted, I still have the dark hormone line running down the middle and probably will for a few more months, the skin is looser and I have a layer of something (fat? skin?) over my abdomen that I refer to as my "mini spare tire."

8 weeks pregnant with baby two

I have begun the process of working on getting back to my pre-baby tummy.  I have been running, planking, doing crunches, etc.   I haven't started cutting calories yet, due to breastfeeding, but that will come eventually.

I'll admit, I was a little frustrated when I got pregnant unexpectedly -- just when I finally got my body back to where I was feeling really strong and fit again!

(you can read about my first post-pregnancy "belly journey" HERE}

Then I had to start all over - barely a year after having Cormac.   Actually, because I had worked so hard to get back into shape I started my second pregnancy in a really good spot - maybe in better shape than when I started my first pregnancy.  It also helped me to continue working out as much as possible while pregnant.

***If I can recommend anything to ladies intending to get pregnant, it is: get into the best shape that you can BEFORE you get pregnant -- and try to stick with it as long as you can during!  I can't tell you how much easier my recovery was this time and how much faster it was to get back into my pre-baby jeans.  No joke - huge difference.***

So here we go, folks.  Time to kiss the belly goodbye.  I'll share the six-weeks post-partum "before photos" when I have made some sort of real progress.

Until then, if anyone has any awesome ab exercises that helped you post-pregnancy-- I'd love to hear!

g

so...which old wives can be trusted?

{source}

I love pregnancy "old wives' tales."

I also am being totally facetious when I use the words "accurate" and "trusted" in this post.  It is all for fun, I know.  When you are pregnant everyone and their mother will say they know the gender of your baby based on something they've heard.  And most people completely contradict each other.  I was told "You are having a boy" about a million times while pregnant with my girl.  Why?  Because I was "carrying like a basketball" or I was "carrying low."   For these exact same reasons other folks told me I was definitely having a girl.  People also tend to think that the heart rate of your unborn child tells you what it is.  "Above 140 is definitely a girl," they will say.  Funny thing is that both my babes hopped above and below this number the entire time.

Fact is, nothing will predict it.  Well, except an ultrasound, and heck, even those tend to be wrong sometimes.  

However...if I were to believe in any old wives' tales, these would be the ones.  They were right with both my pregnancies!

Chinese Birth Chart: {This} Chinese birth chart predicted accurately for both Cormac and Finola.  

Ring Test: Oh yes, holding a necklace or ring on a string over your belly and seeing if it swings in a circle or back and forth will surely tell you what you are having...hahaha...well, at least in both of my cases.  

Toddler Interested in Belly: Um...well, this was accurate for Finola.  Cormac loved my preggo belly.  But what toddler wouldn't be interested in their mama's ginormous belly???

Craving sweets: Yes, with Finola I was a complete sweet tooth.  With Cormac it was greasy, salty fast food.

Increase of Moodiness: Yes...this means girl all the way.  I was a complete wreck with Finola.  With Cormac I was deliriously happy.  

Bad Nausea/Morning Sickness: I had this with both...but with my girl it was WAY WORSE.

Mom's Beauty - Stolen! : This means girl.  I felt rather pretty when pregnant with Cormac.  With the girl I felt just a hot mess.  And still do.

Big boobs: Mine were way larger with my girl...although that could be because it was my second pregnancy.  Just sayin'.

Motherly intuition: Always stick with your gut instinct and you'll know what you are having.  My initial guess was right with both kiddos.

Dreams:  I had no gender dreams with Cormac.  With Finola I had two and she was a girl in both.  Boom.

Mama is Graceful (vs Clumsy) : This is a toss-up.  I was able to do yoga until 35 weeks with my girl.  Then again, I also fell down the basement steps.  

So there you have it.  If you are pregnant, you can certainly trust the accuracy of these old wives' tales.  Or not.  But it is fun to guess!  

Hope everyone is having a lovely weekend!  I had my very first shopping trip with just me and "the girl."  You know you are a girl mama when buying clothes for your daughter is way more fun than buying for yourself. :D

g

{finola's birth story} part 3 : the short, sweet and painful labor

{part 1}

{part 2}

The drive to the hospital was as uncomfortable as you might imagine. 

Only a fifteen minute drive, but with the road construction bumps it felt like forever.  For some reason I felt like Hubby was hitting every one on purpose, and I grew increasingly agitated.  Not yelling at him, but talking in a very slow, very low, very annoyed voice, "You need to slow down.  You cannot go over bumps when I am having a contraction."  

So I think he drove about fifty miles/hour the whole way there.

My contractions were getting much closer together - maybe a minute and a half apart.

We got to the hospital around 8pm.  Our doula, Eileen, was waiting at the main entrance for us, as we had discussed perhaps walking around outside before going in to check in.

Clearly no time for that now.  After she helped me breath, lean and sway through one contraction outside we both knew we better get inside - and fast.  

We went to triage, where apparently everyone agreed just by looking at me and learning I had been 6cm before beginning labor that we didn't have time for trivial things like paperwork and consent forms.

All paperwork was skipped.

They hurriedly got me to a room with a birthing tub, which was also on my 'birth plan.'  They started filling it up, even though my doula kept telling them there would be no time for the tub.  

Maybe the shower, she told me...but seemed doubtful.

I probably had about 4 strong contractions just on the walk to the room alone.  The elevator one was especially fun.

In between contractions I was still pretty okay at this point.  Not super exhausted.  I was able to communicate and even smile a little!  Some female hospital workers outside my room as I was being ushered in with my entourage of nurses, doula, hubby, and midwife (who had just arrived) remarked, "You look way too cute to be in labor!"  I guess because I was still in my cute shopping clothes, sunglasses perched on my head, and brave smile on between contractions. 

The nurse, Autumn, asked me if I had something specific I wanted to wear during my labor.  I had brought a simple black cotton maxi dress so they helped me into that.  I was then put on the delivery bed so my cervix could be checked by Trish, the midwife who would be delivering my baby.  I was glad it was her.  Her calm and very matter-of-fact demeanor gave me added confidence.  

She checked me, and not surprisingly I was at 9cm.  "I could easily stretch you to 10, though.  Your cervix is very soft."  

This was music to my ears, particularly after being stuck at 8cm for literally hours during my last labor, while having contractions at the same frequency/intensity that I was now.  

They stopped filling the tub.  The idea of the shower was abandoned.  This baby did not require any hydrotherapy, clearly.

I labored laying on my side on the bed for a little while, which was fine, but then I asked if I should switch positions.  My doula suggested I try getting into an "all fours" position, so I slowly moved up onto my hands and knees.  

Ow!  That was ten times more painful!  

Then I decided I did not want my cute "labor dress" on.  "I would rather be naked!" I declared.   So off came the dress, with the help of nurse and doula.   

I was extremely warm.  I felt feverish.  I told them.  I also felt like I was going to throw up.  Wave after wave of nausea hit me between the contractions, now about a minute apart it seemed and definitely at a 9 on my pain scale.  I remembered this pain from labor with Cormac.  

Someone got me a pink plastic bowl to vomit in if I needed to.

I gripped Paul's hand, and he said quiet, encouraging words after I made it through each contraction.  His words were perfect...

...but I needed silence.  (Sorry babe.)  

"Just hold my hand.  That is all I need you to do.  Just be here." I told him, keeping my voice as even and quiet as possible.

So then, because I was so hot, he was given a fan to fan me with.  That was perfect.  

I was also given cold towels to put on my forehead and the back of my neck.  They felt so good, as I was seriously burning up.  And still very nauseous.

In my mind I was pretty grateful for these symptoms, as I remembered reading that when you hit transition {getting to 10cm and you body being ready to push} that some women feel nauseous and feverish.  So I was comforted by it and actually encouraged to keep going!

I was no longer silent during contractions.  I was instinctively making low groans throughout the entire minute of extreme pain.  The consistent, loud, even sound coming out of my mouth helped me focus and sort of lulled my brain during each one.  I also had covered my eyes with one of the cold towels.  I held it over my eyes with one hand.  I didn't want to look at anyone.  I just wanted to get through each contraction.

I just wanted to get this over with.  I wanted the baby out.  I wanted sweet relief from the pain.

It must have been about 8:40pm when I transitioned and was ready to push.  {since my doula took the below photograph - am I right Eileen?} 

I think it was Eileen that said to me quietly, "You will start to feel an urge to push during each contraction, Greta.  When you feel that you need to bear down and focus all your energy on pushing the baby out."  This is not verbatim, but it was something to that effect.  

I had no idea what they were talking about.  My "push process" with Cormac lasted several hours, with a super-strength epidural, and a lot of "1-2-3 puuuuuush!" when I guessed I was having a contraction.

No counting this time.  Just me feeling "the urge" and "bearing down."

I was also encouraged to make "low noises" during the push.  

I felt confused and yes, a little scared.  I had no clue what I was doing.  

I asked several times, "Should I change positions?  Should I be squatting?" since I had read that squatting was the most natural position for a woman to deliver a baby.  

"Greta, this is a beautiful position for birthing a baby.  If you are comfortable stay right here."  This was referring to the side-lying position I was in, and had been my entire labor at the hospital - a mere 45 minutes so far.

During the next contraction, which was probably now an 11 on my pain scale, I waited for what I thought was the "high point" of the contraction and tried to "bear down."  It didn't feel like I was doing it right, and I ended up just breathing too fast and kind of hyperventilating.

"Slow down your breathing, Greta.  Calm your breathing for your baby."  That was my nurse Autumn.  She was pretty awesome throughout the whole thing.  (Funny how I can't remember any of the nurses, or much of anything at all, from my hospital experience with Cormac.  Everything about this labor seems crystal clear.)

I knew I could do better.  The next contraction I tried to focus all my energy "down there" and imagine throughout that the baby was emerging.  Also, someone said to "bear down like I was having a bowel movement."   Even though that sounded disgusting and it made me realize why so many women are said to "poop on the table" during labor -- I knew I had to do what they said.

So I followed the instruction - and boy was that embarrassing and uncomfortable!   But, it also felt like I had done it right.  I felt like the baby's head was there, where it was supposed to be, ready to come out!

Also, I felt like the whole area "down there" was on fire.  The "ring of fire" that I had read about!  I was close!

"Greta, just a couple more pushes and your baby will be out," my midwife Trish stated calmly, and this sentiment was echoed by my doula.  I was encouraged.  I felt baby coming out.

It was painful and probably the oddest thing I have ever been through.  While the contractions were hard, pushing was harder and I actually had to work to do it.

I really just wanted to be done, so I did everything they told me, still with my eyes covered with the towel, my naked body contorted, knees being pushed up by my head, sometimes with me holding them there.

"Curl your body around your baby when you push!" "Focus your breath!"  "Imagine Baby coming out!" 

At one point I said exhaustedly, "I don't think I can do this."  Of course, this was met with disagreement from all present parties.  I was kind of at the point of no return, anyway.

The mood in the room was excited and high-energy - I didn't need to see anyones faces to know that.  I kind of felt like an animal on the table.  The whole thing was completely animalistic - me naked, growling with a loudness and power I had never felt before.  

Then came the final push - after only about 15-20 minutes of pushing.  The baby's head finally emerged, followed quickly by the rest of the body.  9:12pm.

It was the best feeling.  Ever.  The baby coming out.  The ultimate relief.  Seeing for the first time the little human who was housed in my body for nearly 39 weeks.  I saw the white umbilical cord, attaching us to each other still.  I wanted the cord to pulse out before it was cut, so we stayed attached until that happened.

Also, Paul was to announce the gender.  So he fumbled around with the wriggly, purple, crying little one, to see what "it" was.

"Its...a girl!" he announced surprisedly.

I was completely shocked.  Even while pushing I was envisioning a boy, even thinking his name in my head for motivation.  I had to look for myself to believe it.  The umbilical cord was slightly blocking my view, but it was moved aside and I saw that yes, she was definitely a girl!

I was awash with happy emotions over this, and in general.  She was handed to me for our 'golden hour' of skin-to-skin time.  I immediately started blubbering, "My little girl!  My beautiful baby girl!" over and over.  

I felt ecstatically happy about everything!  On a complete hormone high.  I felt like I could do anything, and loved everyone.  I cuddled my vernix-covered, slimy, beautiful baby girl.

Finally the umbilical cord finished pulsing and Paul did the symbolic cutting of the cord.

so thankful for these ladies - midwife trish, nurse autumn and doula eileen - for making the experience perfect.

our golden hour together - and feeding her the first time

So that is my story - the end of my pregnancy, my time with Finola inside me.  Together we survived super awful morning sickness, two violent bouts of the stomach flu, a fall down the basement steps, a kitchen renovation, pregnancy depression, a toddler constantly kicking and whacking my tummy, and five days a week at the gym.  Whew - it was one long pregnancy.

Now we face all new challenges together, and I feel so much more confident and prepared to tackle them.

I feel overwhelmed with happiness over how this birth went.  After my first experience I really desired a natural birth, and this could not have gone any better.  My birth plan went out the window - and I am thankful for that this time.  God made it go quickly and I feel very fortunate to have gone through it.

***Thank you to my doula Eileen for capturing most of these moments with my camera.  I will treasure them always.***

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{finola's birth story} part 2 : the 'real deal'

(part 1)

The day Finola was born was a Sunday.
Since 3:42pm on Saturday I had been having consistent and much more uncomfortable Braxton-Hicks contractions.  Since they weren't stopping I kind of knew something was happening...but they also weren't getting any stronger so I wasn't about to rush to the hospital.  Paul kept asking, "Are you having contractions? Is it going to be today?"  All excited.  I could only clutch my gigantic uncomfortable rock of a tummy and respond, "Who knows?" as I had all the other times he had asked.

We went to church. I prayed for strength during labor and, honestly, strength during the next year of raising two little ones.  I knew I would need it!

Paul and I chatted afterward about the names - were we still 100%?  We wrote out the names, even tried out different spellings of each one.  But, in the end, both liked our original choices.  Boy or girl, we knew what the babe would be named.

When I put Cormac down for his nap that afternoon the BH contractions stopped, which had me puzzled.  Maybe today isn't the day after all, I mused.  Then I decided to take a nap, given my body had relaxed enough to do that.  Pretty amazing how your body knows you need to rest up for something, right?  It is as if it knew I needed the extra rest and energy for what was to soon come.  And I mean very soon.

Immediately after my nap the BH contractions began again.

At around 4pm, after Cormac was up, I bid Hubby and him goodbye and I headed out for my normal Sunday afternoon "me time" - when I get to go out by myself, shop or do whatever I'd like.  Hubby asked if it was really a good idea to do this since I was having the consistent yet mild contractions and I had responded, "Absolutely!  It might be my last chance in quite a while!"

So off I went.  First stop - Babies R Us.  I wandered around, talked on the phone, texted Hubby, picked out a bunch of cute baby girl outfits, and timed my contractions.  8-10 minutes apart.  Still very mild.

After filling my basket with sweet baby girl things I sighed and put them all back, deciding the baby would probably be a boy and I didn't know when I'd have time/energy to return all of it.

I left the store emptyhanded and headed next door to Michael's craft store.  I purchased Cormac a bunch of fun, cheap, outdoor toys and games as sort of a "big brother gift."  Things I knew he'd like and we could entertain ourselves with in the backyard.  I left the store feeling happy.  Oh, and slightly more uncomfortable.

Then I went to the next store in the strip - Half Price Books.  This is where things got real.  I had barely walked in when I felt my first real contraction.  I stopped short, gasped a little, and breathed through it.  I noted the time - 5:45pm exactly.   The contraction lasted about thirty seconds but was different than anything I had felt prior to.  I continued to shop, not wanting to jump the gun.  Six minutes later I felt it again.  Then six minutes later.  I began to get excited!  Consistency!  Actual pressure!  I remembered this particlar pain from last time.

Despite all the 'contraction distraction' I purchased a couple things and headed back to my car, continuing to track the increasingly painful and uncomfortable contractions.  They hurt but I would say were only about a 5 on the pain scale.  I could still drive and function.

Here are my texts with Hubby, for your enjoyment, and for me to marvel at how quickly things progressed.  As you can see, Hubby didn't really think it was "the day" - which he now says was reverse psychology....

I called my friend Melissa.  She would be the one coming to our house to watch Cormac when we went to the hospital until Paul's parents could come take over.  I excitedly told her that I thought it was the real deal...but I'd give it another twenty minutes of timing them and call her back to confirm.

The contractions continued as I drove home, and I called my doula.  She said to call her as soon as my friend got there to watch my son and we would meet at the hospital.  She did not think there was any time to labor at home.  (There went my birth "plan!")

My twenty minute drive home was a blur of contractions and phone calls.

I called Paul and told him it was time.  He was completely excited and said he would start loading up the car. I confirmed with Melissa that yes, I was in labor, and she should head over.

I called my midwives' office and left a message and Trish, who I mainly saw, was on call and got back to me within minutes.  I told her we would be on our way and reminded her I was at 6cm at my last check.

By the time Melissa got to our house we were packed and I was nearing a 7 on my pain tolerance scale.  I had to lean on something and brace through the pain, swaying, and completely silent.

I knew we had to hurry.  Baby was coming.  It was about 7:30pm.  I kissed Cormac about twenty times, knowing he didn't understand and probably thought I was crazy.  But I kissed him and hugged him tight and smelled his hair and finally let him go as he tried to wriggle out of my arms.

My last time seeing him as my only baby.

Then we rushed out the door.

Next up: 

part 3 - {the short, sweet, and painful labor}
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{finola's birth story} part 1 : the 'plan'

I guess you could say this birth story started weeks {months?} before the birth.  My body decided to start laboring rather early.  I began having Braxton-Hicks contractions at around thirty weeks.  This painless tightening of my uterus got progressively stronger and more frequent as I moved into my last month of pregnancy.  At 36 weeks my cervix was checked for the first time at my regular midwife appointment and I was expecting maybe 2 cm, since I had also had Braxton-Hicks early in my first pregnancy.

Wrong - 4 centimeters dilated. 

The midwife seemed pretty surprised but told me not to get too excited because it was not unheard of for someone dilated this much, this early to still go until their due date.  She didn't seem overly concerned.

At 37 weeks I was 5 centimeters dilated.  At 38 weeks I was 5-6.

Each week I got a similar warning from whichever midwife checked me: When you do go into labor get to the hospital - fast.

Of course, other people I shared this with had their own helpful versions of this, such as:  "Keep your legs crossed - that baby is going to fall out!"  and "Make sure your midwife is good at catching babies!" and "Don't sneeze!"

Naturally my mind was in a tailspin of worries revolving around not having someone able to come watch Cormac in time, the baby being born in the car, etc.  But I wasn't having any painful, "real" labor contractions and my 'plan' was to labor at home as long as possible, going to the hospital only when I thought the birth was close.

Oh, the 'plan.'  I'm not referring to my written birth plan, which was pretty succinct and typical of anyone desiring a natural birth.   In essence - no drugs, no time limit, desiring use of hydrotherapy and a calm, low-key birth environment.

No, I am talking about the daydream of birth that all mother's conjure up in their mind: they way they "want" things to go.

My daydream looked like this:

I was going into this with eyes wide open this time.  I envisioned another long labor. {Read here about my labor with Cormac.} I also fully expected another posterior-positioned baby, which would make the process even longer and more painful because of the back labor that typically goes along with that.  Because I thought things would go just like last time, long and painful and possibly stalling at 8cm because of the posterior positioning...we had hired an experienced doula for additional support through the process.

In my mind I saw us {she, myself and paul} going through most of the labor process at home, using the tub and shower for hydrotherapy.  I would listen to my birth music.  I would eat my protein-packed arsenal of  light snacks for added boosts of energy and drink water throughout.  I would power through those early contractions in a calm and loving home atmosphere, struggle heroically through the stronger ones, and then get to the hospital at just the right moment to finish off the transition stage of labor and push this little baby out!

I would run this marathon of a birth like a champ.  At least that was my hope.

But, as usual, God had his own 'birth plan' in the works...

{Spoiler: His was way better than mine.}

up next...

part 2 : the 'real deal'

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{it's a - !}

Happily introducing
 our little baby girl...

Finola Wilder Ford

Born May 19 at 9:12pm

7lbs 7oz

19 inches

If you have been following my pregnancy, you know that a 'girl' came as a surprise to this mama.  

But, let's face it, this whole pregnancy has been a surprise!

A very lovely surprise.

She is absolutely beautiful...

Both mama and babe are healthy and thankful.

More photos to come.

And a birth story.

So excited to share!

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