the last part- delivery

The labor and delivery rooms at St. Lukes in downtown Boise are like glamorous hotel suites. Granite and hard wood finishes, jacuzzi tub etc. We walked into ours on the second floor and were very impressed. Audrey finished her chocolate milk while the nurse helped get me positioned in bed- monitor for contractions, monitor for baby's heartbeat, IV, pitocin drip. We watched it get lighter and lighter outside our window until finally the sun was up and we could see that it was snowing. The snow continued all day long, and I remember thinking that I'd have to tell our baby about the weather. I love snow.

Justin's parents came from Twin Falls and took Audrey back to our house in Nampa to get ready for her friend's birthday party. Soon after my Mom and sister arrived (complete with snacks and make-up- life savers!) and we relaxed and talked and watched Harry Potter. Every once in awhile the nurse would come in and up the level of pitocin in my IV and remind me that I should sleep but I was too excited. I was having a baby!

After a few hours my back started aching. I thought it was just from sitting/laying in one position for too long. I rolled around and shifted, my Mom positioned pillows like a pro and I found some relief. But soon it was back- a strong, burning pain in my lower back. As the pain intensified we figured out that these were contractions and I began to notice a definite increase and then decrease in the pain. "Wow," I thought "so here we go."

I had told the nurses that I wanted to go as long as possible without an epidural because I'd read that an epidural can slow down the labor process. The pain continued to increase and I was glad that my sister had left to go to a store because I wasn't able to stop the tears from coming. Justin was right by my side and quiet and later told me that he'd had a really hard time watching me handle the contractions. My mom was encouraging. I was so glad to have both of them there. Our nurse suggested I sit on a birthing ball to relieve the pressure on my back which helped a little- and I encouraged Justin and my Mom to talk so I could have something else to focus on. Finally I had dilated to a 5 and the nurse suggested an epidural saying that sometimes it could actually speed up the process since it would let my body relax. That was all I needed to hear.

The epidural was administered and I was comfortable again. My Mom and sister went to get some dinner while Justin and I sat and talked with the nurse. She knew this was my first pregnancy even though we had a daughter and wanted to know our story. We talked for awhile about the miracle of Audrey's adoption. She checked me again when it had been an hour since the epidural and her eyes got big. "Guess where you're at" she said. I hopefully said "A 6?" and she laughed and said "try a 9! You've dilated 4 cm in an hour!" She told me to call my Mom and sister and to get ready, at the rate my body was going we'd be ready to push soon.

I was fully dilated quickly and they called the on-call doctor and then had me start pushing. I'd hold my breath and push while the nurse counted to 10 three times with every contraction. After just a few minutes in the middle of one of my pushes she shouted, "I can see the head!" I lost all the breath I'd been holding and said "what?!" It all seemed so surreal. Suddenly I could feel the baby in the birth canal as well- a hard bony little ball between my hips- amazing. She had me stop pushing since the baby was obviously farther down the birth canal than they thought and the doctor still hadn't arrived. When the doctor finally came, she breezed in through the door with at least 5 other people. Curtains were pushed back, shiny instruments were pulled out of sterilized bags and laid on tables, the room was a flurry of activity. The doctor put on her mask, got into position and told me to start pushing again.

It was only two or three more long pushes and he was out- red and crying loudly- an angry little ball with dark hair and tiny hands and feet. They immediately laid him on my chest. He was perfect. I said "hello baby" and the most amazing thing happened- he stopped crying and shifted his head to look at my face. I was surprised that he'd recognized my voice so I kept talking- he laid there quietly and just watched me. It was such a special moment. A few minutes later Justin leaned over my shoulder and said something to me about the baby's hair and his eyes got bigger and he moved his tiny head to try to see Justin- another familiar voice. Thinking about it even now makes me cry.

They moved us up to our own private room on the 8th floor and offered to take David to the nursery for the night so I could get some sleep. But I couldn't let them- I pulled his bassinet next to my bed and stared at his face. Justin slept on the other side of me on the couch and I laid down and tried to sleep but I just couldn't. I couldn't take my eyes off his tiny face. I'd given birth! I'd had a baby! That magical, mysterious act that defines women- I'd done it! That mysterious thing that I'd had to watch and hear about from others but never expected that I'd be able to participate in- it had happened. And it had been more wonderful and exciting and amazing than I'd ever imagined.

the next part

source

Back in April when we estimated our baby's due date (about 2 minutes after the test came up positive) I was disappointed when I realized he would be born in December. I'd heard multiple people complain about the hassle of having birthdays close to Christmas. But as we drove into downtown Boise in the early morning and saw all the tall building decorated- sparkly lights on their edges, cone shaped Christmas trees on the very tip tops- I was glad. What a magical time of year to have a birthday!

We pulled into the hospital parking lot and walked toward the door. I was embarrassed that my pants were wet and grateful that the early hour meant less people around to see me. Just inside the main revolving door we were greeted by a 15 foot Christmas tree decorated in blue and silver and surrounded by poinsettias. It was beautiful and Audrey was completely wowed. I wish now that I had taken a picture of it. We took the elevator to triage and checked in. The lady who took my paperwork called back to get a room ready for me. I don't know what the person on the other end of the phone asked but she glanced down at my pants, laughed and said, "oh yeah, she's definitely ruptured."

We were taken back to a very tiny curtained room where I was changed into a gown and hooked up to monitors. Contractions were happening every 1-3 minutes but they were so minor that I wasn't feeling them. I was told to go walk around the hospital for 30 minutes. Justin helped Audrey change out of her pajamas and we walked first to the cafeteria- a banana for me, yogurt for Audrey, chocolate milk for everyone, then to the Christmas tree- Audrey and Justin went out to the car for our bag while I stood in the lobby and called my parents. And then back to triage- they wanted to monitor the baby's movements before they sent me to Labor and Delivery, but he was asleep. The nurse tried a few techniques to wake him up and then finally "buzzed" him with a small device she placed on my stomach that let out a loud noise and a vibration. We watched my belly jump to one side and then he was active and we moved to the Labor and Delivery room.

the story

3 months ago today.

How has it already been three months?

I start to write the story of David's birth but it is either too long and detailed or not detailed enough- it is either too emotional and personal or not personal enough- it was one of the greatest experiences of my life and the words to express it just won't come out right. Or write. (ha.) But there's so much I want to be sure that I don't forget, and it's already been three months.

3 months. And so...here goes.

3 months ago today I was lying in bed and my belly was large and my ankles were swollen and my hips were aching. It was a little after 4 am and I rolled over from my left side to my right which took a lot of pulling and shifting and grunting. Finally I settled into my pillow, shut my eyes again and tried to find sleep when I felt liquid sliding down my legs. I layed there for a few moments realizing what this meant and my heart started beating faster. I reached over and nudged Justin. It felt like some cliche line in a movie when I shook his shoulder and said,

"Justin wake up- I think my water just broke."

He bolted upright and said, "What?". I explained what I thought was happening again as I climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom. At my doctor's office the week before the nurse had told me "If your water breaks you're going to need a sham-wow." and she was certainly right. I had to stand in the shower because the fluid just kept coming. Justin asked me what needed to be done and I had a hard time clearing my head and focusing. Adrenaline was pumping through me and I just kept thinking "I'm going to meet my baby today...I'm going to see his face...I'm going to give birth..." Justin stood in the doorway of the bathroom and I stood in the shower, dripping, and we tried to figure everything out- what were we going to do with Audrey? What about the birthday party she was supposed to attend later that day? Should I eat something before we left for the hospital? Should we install the car seat now or later? How was I going to get dressed with all this water continually cascading down my legs??

We stopped our conversation short when I started shaking. I made myself get out and get dressed, which helped calm me down, then walked around the house with a towel between my legs as I gathered the hospital bag, my pillow, and everything else we needed. Downstairs I forced myself to eat a small bowl of cheerios and then asked Justin for a blessing. Afterward we woke up Audrey, wrapped her in a blanket and stepped out into the cold morning and climbed into our car. As we pulled out onto the street Justin said, "So, December 4th. Our baby's birthday is going to be December 4th."


more to follow

healing

The nights are my favorite.

He never cries at night. Instead I wake up to small grunts and snorts- his hungry mouth smacking on his tiny fist, his limbs flailing around in frantic egg-beater fashion. I put on my sweater and scoop him up, then wrap him in blankets against the chill in our dark house. He buries his face in the fabric on my shoulder, searching, and I'm grateful that he's quiet as we pass the door to his big sister's room.

I stumble downstairs, turn on the dim lamp, settle into the couch and get him positioned. We nurse, and his tiny body snuggled against mine and his hungry gulps and swallows make me smile. Then when he is full and sleepy, and his body is limp, I pick him up and lay him on my chest to pat his back. I listen to the purring little sighs he makes with each exhale, and smell the sweet sour milk smell that comes from the many tiny folds in his neck no matter how often I bathe him.

And my soul mends.

With each small sigh and with each whiff of new baby smell the feelings of failure and inadequacy melt away. The wound of infertility that his sister healed is completely invisible now- he's removed even the vestige of a scar. I marvel that he exists, that he is here, that I brought him here. I whisper a prayer of thanks.

He listens to the familiar sound of my heartbeat and falls asleep.

I do too.

But then I wake up and look at the clock, kiss the top of his head and turn out the light.

And we walk upstairs to bed.

under his spell

Why didn't someone warn me about newborns?

Someone should have mentioned that they're totally and completely wonderful.
(at least, mine is.)



Someone should have told me that all I would ever want to do is hold him- that laundry, and dishes, and dust would pile up all around me while I stare at his tiny face and that I wouldn't care at all.

(maybe you did warn me- but I didn't believe you.)

I am unable to resist kissing his head twenty thousand times a day. His tiny newborn sighs and squeaks turn me to butter. He smells amazing, his hair and skin are so soft and lovely. I have a hard time letting anyone else hold him. Diaper changes and midnight feedings are a joy because they mean more time to take care of him.



Other things are happening in our lives, I promise they are. Things that should be on the blog. Audrey is the cutest big sister you've ever seen, wanting to hold him and fetching diapers and pacifiers before I can even ask her. She also saw Santa last night and it was kind of a big deal. Justin has picked up extra work, is making big time plans for our family, and has even shaved his beard. (I miss it just a little). I plan on writing about David's birth, which was such an amazing experience, soon before I forget any detail.

But first, for right now the blog may be more quiet than usual- I've got to let some things slide and just stare at his tiny face. I'm sorry, I really don't have a choice.

(consider yourself warned.)

falling in love (for the third time)

sometimes I'm a little afraid...

-that this baby won't be as darling and adorable as Audrey. I mean, really, look at her.

-that my water will break while I'm out in public.

-that I'll swear or scream or cry like a baby or something equally as embarrassing while I'm in labor.

-that Justin will leave me for a more desirable woman- you know, like a woman who can actually reach down and shave her legs or clip her toenails.

-that Audrey won't like her new baby brother.

-that this annoying nausea will never, ever be completely gone.

-that people at church will start to notice that I've been wearing the same dress every single Sunday. So far I'm hoping that the different colored cardigans I've been wearing over it are throwing them off.

-that nursing will totally throw me for a loop and I won't be able to figure out nursing bras and schedules and a hungry baby and a blanket over my shoulder, and that in order to feed my baby I will have to live like a hermit in my house until he is weaned.

-that I will go into labor when my house is filthy and whoever comes over while I'm in the hospital will be shocked and horrified at the state of my bathrooms. You better believe that if this happens I will be scrubbing toilets through my contractions. I will.

the state of things

"It's a bish Mom!" (bish=fish)

she: princess pajamas and fluffy, ratty hair, runny nose, crusty eyes, a cough that keeps both of us up at night. Still bright and happy during the day despite my nose wiping efforts, begs to go outside even though she is sick, coloring lots of pictures, pretending to be a kitty, watching princess movies.

he: sweater vests over shirts and ties, going in to work early, sells like crazy. Learning the guitar, takes care of anything his wife asks him to. Plays hide and seek with Audrey ("you find me Dad!") attends planning meetings for his calling, gets excited about BYU football, misses eating Mexican food, wishes his wife didn't throw up at the thought of a taco.

me: maternity pants and any shirt that still covers my belly (options are limited). swollen feet, swollen hands, large tight belly that gets in the way when I try to wash dishes, make dinner or type at the computer. Craving chinese food, sleeping badly, nervous/excited to meet this baby, making lots of lists with the title "to do before baby comes" then wishing I had the energy to accomplish anything.

evening thoughts

We've been taking Audrey to play at the park more and more frequently since the heat isn't as sweltering and the evenings are mild. She swings and swings while Justin and I throw the football around and I love it because we talk and talk and laugh when I throw a lame duck and he has to run after it. Also- I get to stare at him and his broad shoulders while we're tossing and admire how handsome he is.

Sometimes we're at the park at the same time that a little league football team is practicing. From a distance I watch the small, skinny 8 and 9 year olds in their great big pads and wonder about our baby boy. Justin watches too and tells me what plays they're running or explains why that boy in the orange jersey is doing push-ups or how it feels to be little and have your pads not fit right. Then he regales me with stories of how hard and rigorous football practice was, and the tales extend into his high school years. I cringe when I hear the stories of shaking, aching muscles and mean, yelling coaches but he's smiling as he tells me and I can tell that he loved and misses every minute of it.

And then I think that it's pretty lucky that I have a husband here with me to help raise this baby who's kicking underneath my ribs because I'm already having misgivings and realizing that I just don't quite understand boys.

But the little girl who yells at us from the slide and tells us to "watch Momma!" and "look Daddy!"- her, I know. I recognize so much of myself in her, and am surprised to find so much of my mother in myself as I parent her. I tell her our plans or scold her or love her and so often hear my Mother's voice coming out of my mouth. And I'm glad. She watches Sleeping Beauty and helps me make pies and 'paints' rocks with water outside and I think "I can do this, I'm doing okay". But then there are moments of defiance and stubbornness and testing boundaries and I'm confused again. Maybe girls are not so much easier to figure out than boys.

Then the sun is getting lower and lower, the shadows of the trees and playground equipment stretch longer and longer over the grass and football practice is over. Boys that look so little pick up their pads and helmets and walk to their parent's cars. My daughter that looks so big lately is begging for one more ride down the slide before we go. Justin is showing her how to climb the ladder up onto the platform and I feel this baby inside me moving and my back aches from standing.

But my back is not the only thing aching. My heart hurts at the beauty of it all- the blessing of my husband and my daughter, and our future that is uncertain and open and undecided and wonderful. That I'm going to be the mother of two children (two!) which scares me and makes me excited at the same time.

Then I thank my lucky stars and my Heavenly Father, and finally Audrey's last "one more time" on the slide is finished and we walk to the car and drive home.

if you were a fly on the wall in our living room..

the scene: late at night, Audrey asleep upstairs, Justin in chair playing NCAA football on the playstation. Becky at desk working on some writing in between wasting time on facebook.

Becky: a few murmured, gurgling, painful, sigh-ish sounds

Justin: what are those sexy noises you're making over there?

Becky: heartburn. (thank you pregnancy)

Justin: oh.

Becky: do you think my heartburn's sexy?

Justin: that depends, is your heart burnin' for me?

(credit where credit is due: this post was inspired by Caitlin's funny conversation posts :)

it's a...

(I've gotten some questions about this picture- yes, this is my belly. Justin's not a bad photographer huh?)

expanding

this morning I spent a lot of time rummaging through my closet to find something to wear-

skinny pants no way no how
white shorts nope
khaki skirt that fit me last week not this week
maternity pants in the laundry
brown shorts that used to be too big too small
stretchy striped skirt missing in action
old jeans with holes in them not happening
black pants maybe if I rig the button with a rubber band....nope.
grey sweat pants




sigh.

the view from here

21 weeks

"Audrey, it's raining outside."

These words that I whispered in her dark room this morning made her eyes pop open and she struggled to sit up quickly, still a little disoriented and groggy, in her crib. I scooped her up and we flew downstairs to look at the wet pavement outside our living room window. Finally... some change.

The days here are passing slowly, so slowly. Mondays and Tuesdays drag their feet in protest of becoming Thursdays and Fridays and I do everything I can to hurry them along- to no avail. It seems that it is just one hot, sweltering day after another after another.

Until they are not so slow. Suddenly Saturday arrives and we are off- whisked away to family reunions, graduations, road trips, barbeques. After packing and driving and visiting and eating and staying up late, AND THEN adding the necessary busy Sundays that follow- sunday school and sharing time lessons, planning and presidency meetings- our weekends are filled to overflowing. So much so that I almost look forward to the long, slow, barren Monday ahead.

Almost.

I am so anxious for time to pass. So anxious to see trees turning color, and temperatures dropping if only to have some physical verification that time is indeed passing. Right now 100 degree day after 100 degree day falling reluctantly off the calendar seems almost meaningless.

I now count time in months- 4 months until December.

I count time in weeks- 21 weeks down with 19 to go.

and I count time in kicks- little tiny pushes and nudges from deep inside. Sweet little secret messages that remind me...

we're having a baby.

we're having a baby.

we're really having a baby.

and I just can't wait.

so-so

-This morning I ate a bowl of cocoa puffs. Then my black hole stomach demanded another bowl. So I had a bowl of corn flakes that were a little stale but my gigantic appetite didn't mind too much. Then I threw it all up after I got out of the shower.

-Last night I was dragged out of sleep by a very full, very insistent bladder. Twice.

-Yesterday we drove to Gooding for the Vipperman reunion, then to Twin Falls to have dinner, then back to Boise. A total of 5 hours in the car. This morning my feet have been replaced by giant watermelons with toes. You cannot even tell that there are ankles in there somewhere.

-For lunch today I had 8 chicken nuggets, 3 pickles (2 sweet, 1 dill dipped in ranch), 3 mint oreo cookies and the crumbs out of the bottom of the ruffled lays potato chip bag. There were only crumbs left because I polished off most of the bag yesterday and couldn't go buy another because it was Sunday. And how cliche is it that I'm craving pickles? I was hoping to have some obscure, crazy, unique pregnancy food but seriously, every time I open that jar of baby dills I hear the hallejulah chorus.

-And now that I scarfed down the chips and the pickles there is no food in the house but I hate going to the grocery store since I seem to have very strong reactions (good and bad) to every food I see and walking down isles and isles of wall to wall meat and produce and boxed dinners is almost too much for my stomach to handle.

-Every pregnant woman should have a nanny, a personal chef, and a maid. These things should just be covered under your insurance right along with doctor's visitis and presciptions.

-My house is so messy....well, let's not talk about that.

I am so (so, so, SO) thankful for this pregnancy.

.
But I am so (SO!) tired of not being in control of my own body.

And December seems so far away.

oh my poor neglected blog...

Summer is certainly keeping us busy and when I'm not busy this pregnancy takes up the rest of my time. I just seem to move slower recently, so keeping up on my basic chores has become top priority and blogging has fallen closer to the bottom of my list. So to catch up, here's what's been going on at our house:

-I talk way too much about being pregnant. Seriously, I'm obnoxious. Justin very gently told me the other day that the check out girl at Walmart probably didn't need to know how far along I was.

-Audrey got some new flip flops to wear to our reunion at the beach and thinks she's pretty hot stuff in them. I hate them because they fall off all the time. But look at those chubby toes. Awww.

-Last night Justin went on a 4 mile prep-hike for the 50 mile hike he and his scouts are preparing to go on in August. They're going on a four day qualifying hike next weekend. I am mad at this 50-miler for taking my husband away from me so much.

-Audrey MUST do everything by herself right now. I get yelled at multiple times a day- "Mom, I try! I try!" at which point I must step back and let her stir her own chocolate milk, open the car door, or dress herself as a princess complete with a tiara on backwards:

-We had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday and got to hear the baby's heartbeat again. My goodness, that's one of the sweetest sounds I've ever heard.

-Audrey tells me multiple times a day that she has a baby in her tummy too. So funny. Then she asks me if I have to go 'spit it out in the potty' again. Not so funny. Especially when I'm nauseous.

-See? There I go talking about being pregnant again. I can't help it I swear.

-I don't know what these pictures are, probably her father's idea:

watching Madeline in a cardboard box:

(oh, that Lord Cuckoo face gets me every time)

-the weather has gotten warmer and we're enjoying summer but I can't stop thinking about winter...December 8th specifically. (how many mentions was that now? 5 or 6 at least?) I wish time would pass more quickly.

-So does Justin. 'Cause really, I'm obnoxious.

working

I had done a pretty good job of convincing myself that I'd never, ever be pregnant.


So good that when I saw two lines show up on the pregnancy test, I didn't feel much at first. I called Justin in and just kept saying, "this can't be right, there's got to be something wrong." And Justin even spent a few minutes with furrowed brow looking over the box and reading the directions to make sure that the two lines meant what we thought they did.

Before you roll your eyes and think how silly or dramatic I was to give up hope so easily of ever being pregnant, let me explain-


I had to.


Hope hurts. Hope got me thinking of babies and a future filled with first steps and birthday parties and a big family and sunday dinners and softball games. Hope built up those dreams, that then shattered and laid around me in pieces month, after month, after month.

At the time that I looked down at that pregnancy test and saw what I thought I'd never see, we'd been trying to get pregnant for 5 years. 5 years, or roughly 60 months of disappointment. At that point I'd taken at least a dozen pregnancy tests, and in the past, had searched and searched for that second elusive pink line. I'd leave the test lying on the counter for longer than the three minutes that it said to allow. When there was still a lonely, single line after 5 minutes (or 10) I'd throw it in the garbage reluctantly. There were even a few times when I went back and pulled the test out of the trash to see if that second line had somehow shown up mysteriously late- but

it was never there.

For me, the pain of infertility was two-fold. The first part, the worst part, was the longing for a child. The instinct to nurture, the need to be a mother. This was the hardest, this was the pain that kept me awake at night, had me crying quietly into my pillow while Justin slept beside me. This pain was amazingly, miraculously gone when Audrey came to our family. I was actually a little surprised at how quickly it vanished- replaced by more love and contentment than I ever expected.

However, there was another, smaller pain that lingered on. It didn't keep me awake at night or cause me significant heartache, but it was there, and would pop up unexpectedly when I saw a glowing pregnant woman or when I found myself on the outskirts of a conversation about pregnancy symptoms or delivery stories- conversations that are badges of courage for almost all women, conversations that I could not participate in. This smaller, quieter pain was the pain of feeling like a failure in the most basic way possible. My body couldn't do what almost every other woman's body could. I wanted to know that I wasn't somehow broken or deficient inside, I wanted to work. Luckily, this pain was easily ignored. I'm a mother now through the miracle of adoption. I have a beautiful happy daughter and nothing to complain about. Any fears about future babies were quieted with the plan that when we had the money to do so, we'd start the adoption process again. And that was fine with me.

But now two little pink lines, once so longed for and then forgotten, have shown up and changed my life. Now I have heard a fast, fluttery, very tiny heartbeat coming from deep inside me, echoing my own. My stomach is starting to protrude and when I press on it it is firm and round, protecting this tiny, miraculous life. I feel almost holy- I am housing and wholly supporting another life.


And I am so proud of my body.

So proud that it knows what to do, that everything is working, that somehow it knows how to support, and nourish, and take care of this little being even as I am still trying to wrap my head around what is happening. So far being pregnant has been hard, but I'm still thankful that I get to experience this. So thankful that I got to lie on a table last week and look at a small screen and watch a tiny baby move around inside me and stretch it's arms. Tears rolled down my face into my hair almost immediately and I watched in awe as Justin held Audrey up to the screen to see our baby. It was truly a miracle. The second full-blown miracle that I've been able to experience in my life.



I don't know how I could ever ask for more.

well hello there...

blogging might be less frequent

because lately I've been spending more time in front of this:

than this:

and no, these are not pictures from my house.

I wish my house was this clean right now.

surprise, surprise

I know, I can't believe it either!

Guess I'm going to have to change the name of my blog.