Grace's Birth: Short and Almost Sweet

Throughout the pregnancy, my family and I had been praying that Grace's birth would be fast and smooth -- but not too fast since I had a serious fear of delivering in a car. And very thankfully, I think we got exactly what we asked for...

I woke up around 4:30 on the morning of Grace's birth. Like anyone who is 39 weeks pregnant, I had to pee. And then I couldn't go back to sleep.

I'd been having false (Braxton Hicks) contractions for weeks, so I wasn't holding my breath or anything when I noticed more. But they didn't go away and they hurt more than usual. After about an hour or so of getting them about 20 minutes apart, I was pretty sure that this was "the day."

Should I wake up Marc? I decided not to. At least one of us should sleep. In fact, I even let him go to work for a few hours. No hurry... as long as my water didn't break (like it did with my last child!).

If you've every been to a childbirth class or read about labor coping techniques, you know that there are a million ways you can deal with contractions. You can walk, rock, kneel or squat, sit on a ball, breathe methodically, sit in a shower or tub, and think about sandy beaches or whatever suits your fancy. In previous experiences, all my preparation flew out the window and I ultimately just writhed in pain begging for mercy/epidural. With James I got one, but at Jonathan's birth he was well on his way out before you could spell anesthesiologist.

This time around I was under no illusions about the process. Being modern and proactive and all, I decided to laze around in bed and play on my iPhone/doze off when possible while the boys played with Grandma. The contractions slowly but steadily got closer together.

It worked for me. I was cranky about waking up so early and didn't know when I'd have a chance to sleep again (so far, never). Forget labor, I wanted to go back to bed! Secondly, I wasn't in a huge hurry to "speed it along" by walking or squatting or whatever the pros do.

Oh, one more thing. I decided to be a little bit more spiritual than previous times. Birth is an incredibly spiritual experience, and somehow in prior attempts I could only focus on the fruit cup my husband had for lunch and random paintings on the delivery room walls. So this time, I had been practicing prayer and meditation through pain.

I can't really explain it well because it is a practice done without many words...but I just did the best I could to clear my mind and focus on the presence of God. Sometimes I'd do pattern breathing (I guess that was handy after all), and sometimes I'd read or recited Psalm 63...Oh God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water...

And sometimes I'd browse Facebook and Twitter. You know, modern and proactive and spiritual.

Noonish rolled around and my contractions were in the textbook 5-7 minute apart range, i.e. go time. Marc came home and we were off to the hospital. Since most births aren't so speedy, the hospital staff was somewhat leisurely about admitting me. I paced around and panted like an animal, which must be completely normal to them. Then we went to the triage room, where I continued to pace and moan and avoid what looked like the most uncomfortable chair I had ever seen (although on a normal day it would have been fine).

To keep the mood light, Marc pulled up our obsession at the time on his phone, Parks and Recreation. As much fun as I had on my phone earlier in the day, I suddenly got very angry and wanted to chuck Leslie Knope across the room. Okay then. When our nurse showed up, she took one look at me and decided to skip the paperwork for now and check my progress.

Sidenote: what's with the administrative stuff on admittance? Isn't that what I preregistered for? Really my only complaint about the hospital...

So the nurse looked at me after examining the unmentionable and said, "You want to guess how far dilated you are?" I told her I had no idea. And secretly, I thought, "If you tell me something like 3 centimeters, then I am going to throw a fit." Maybe throw a phone.

"8 centimeters!" She smiled as she gave the news.

Woohoo! I think I might have said that. Suddenly there was an urgency among the staff and I was shuttled off to my delivery room.

If you hadn't noticed, medication wasn't anywhere in the plan. I knew I didn't need it because last time with Jonathan's birth I made it without it. I also wanted to attempt a water birth.

Yeah that's right. The hospital is fairly modern and progressive and does water births. The thought grossed me out at first (toilet water anyone?!!) but then after talking with my OB, watching some videos and reading up on it, it seemed like it actually might be kinda nice. At least dealing with the most intense contractions in a warm bath sounded appealing.

They started filling the tub, and I paced the delivery room in eager anticipation, while in excruciating pain every couple of minutes. "God!" I said. "We're gonna do this! Thank you God for getting me through this! You are awesome!" At this point I was shaking from the adrenaline.

I guess God didn't think the water birth was right for me. They set me up on some monitors and said the heart rate wasn't where they wanted it to be so no tub -- not to mention that it was already almost time to push.

Almost time to push?!! Could we be there already?

At this point I was lying on a bed, breathing my way through those horrible transition contractions. Marc asked what he could do. I asked him to hold my hand, stroke my hair and remind me how awesome I was. He also answered medical history questions. Seriously, we were still in the admittance process.

Time to push. My water hadn't broken yet. Marc says that they broke it then, although I seriously don't remember.

I told myself that pushing was not so bad, based on what I could remember.

Ha! Must have been selective memory. Pushing the head out really hurts. Like being ripped open with a jagged knife must be pretty comparable. I hadn't adequately prepared myself for this.

I don't know what it is about screaming -- but it's totally instinctive when your body thinks it's being tortured. I felt like I was watching myself and was completely puzzled by my behavior. "Gina, stop screaming at the top of your lungs. It's not helping. You sound ridiculous. It will all be over in a minute. Please stop. Seriously, this is embarrassing."

Fortunately for what remained of my self-image (having a room full of people look at you almost naked while you're screaming makes it pretty minimal), it was over very quickly. Grace must have felt my pain because she came out screaming. No worries about her health there!

For the record, we were admitted to the hospital around 12:30. Grace was born at 1:45.

It's a strange and exhilarating feeling holding your baby for the first time. I was intrigued by this little stranger in my arms and just wanted to stare at her all day and get to know her. At the same time I was still shaking and wanted to vomit. And sleep.

But we made it to the other side! Really though, as every mom knows, this wasn't the end but rather more like the beginning of the fourth trimester. Ah, what a journey...

Hello World

Hello world, my name is Grace Celeste.

I hijacked my mommy on March 20. She is googly-eyed in love with me and sleep-deprived, so she hasn't touched her laptop in many days.

I hope you're not too smitten by my cuteness because then you won't get any work done either. Don't worry, I'll release her from my love grasp soon and maybe let her sleep a little more - so she can communicate with the outside world without words all her up mixing.

But not yet.

Still Here

Hey guys!

I'd just like to announce that I nominate myself Most Inconsistent Blogger/Social Networker Ever for the first two months of 2013. It's a great award because you don't do anything with it other than beam with pride.

I didn't plan a break for the past two weeks. But between the borderline crazy emotional state exhibited in my last post, fighting off an infection and feeling just plain tired, I just haven't been up for much social interaction. So if I didn't Retweet your awesome Tweet or comment on your Facebook status or respond to your hilarious blog post or link up to your blog hop or text you or call you or meet you for coffee -- it's nothing personal. I'm an introvert by nature. And apparently I like to take naps.

In case you're wondering, I currently look like this:

38 weeks and still pregnant.

I don't know what else to say...I mean, I could give you the gross details about physical pregnancy issues or tell you how tired I am, or be gushing about how excited I am to meet my daughter (which I am). Or I could reiterate how much I'm not looking forward to the birthing process -- although my attitude now is slightly better, seeing the light on the other side.

But I'm not going to (obviously, or I'd be setting myself up in a contradictory fashion). No, I'll just tell you that I'm fine, I have good days and bad days, and you'll be hearing from me again soon...maybe...

Winding Down

Saturday was the 23rd - 36 weeks, exactly one month away from d-day.

Maybe I was trying to look cute. I am also currently in rebellion against wearing pants (aside from pajamas).

This past weekend exemplified how I am feeling/doing right now. Great and terrible.

If I'm 36 weeks pregnant, what in the world possessed me on Saturday to think I could: 1. take the kids grocery shopping, 2. go to a birthday party, 3. clean the house, 4. go to a church social function, and 5. have a perfect dinner lined up -- all within the span of less than 12 hours???

After accomplishing 1 and 2, I collapsed into a vegetative state (don't worry, figure of speech, nothing medical here). And then, when my patient and understanding husband tried to convince me to stay home for the rest of the day and find some peace and rest, I turned into a weeping mess. I'm notably not unlike my 2-year-old, who gets frustrated and throws a fit when he can't reach the light switch.

I was stubborn for a while. Finally, after about half an hour of being unable to look at Marc without bursting into tears, I caved. I stayed home and we had pizza for dinner. Did I mention we had pizza for lunch at the birthday party? At least the kids were euphoric.

Similar story on Sunday. I was exhausted just from going to church. We have a small group over every Sunday night, and the thought of it was making me hyperventilate -- even though it was our last week hosting for a while and Marc was doing all the prep work.

I calmed down a little when friends arrived and enjoyed their company. And I showed off my expertly crafted nursery.

At least my baby girl will have a pretty bed to sleep in -- as long as my boys quit untying the crib bumpers.

How I'm doing depends on the moment, and how I look at it. Take the nursery, for example. Sometimes it makes me want to cry, and sometimes it makes me want to laugh.

I've even cried because I feel so out of control of myself. You know what I mean?

Fortunately, I have many loving people and even a wise conscience that are all screaming at me: "Slow down! And don't be so hard on yourself!"

So now it's time to WIND DOWN. Things aren't getting any easier.

Obviously this is hard for me. I hate feeling vulnerable and weak (sound familiar?). I know I need to take care of myself, and my little girl. I know I need to find my center in God. I know, I know, I know!!! Will someone please turn my brain off?!!

So I leave you with that mess. It is what it is. Your prayers are much appreciated. I know I'll get through this -- I've done it before, and I have a ton of support. And just so you know I haven't gone completely off the deep end, I'll even throw this in:

The LORD is gracious and righteous; 

our God is full of compassion.

The LORD protects the simplehearted;

when I was in great need, he saved me.

Be at rest once more, O my soul,

for the LORD has been good to you.

Psalm 116: 5-7 (NIV 1984)

********

Awesome link-ups:

   A Dare to Love Yourself with Emily Wierenga

Three Years is All You Need to Know Everything

A brief compilation of wisdom from James....

*****

"Mom?"

"What?"

"Where is God?"

"Uh...he's in heaven" (Marc gave me that. I hadn't really thought of a simple answer).

"Is heaven in the sky?"

"Uh...yeah."

"God is really big, isn't he?"

"Yep, he's very big."

Pause...

"Maybe someday we can build a rocket ship and go get him."

*****

"Mom, are you still sleeping?"

"No, I'm just lying down because I don't feel good."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, thanks" (proud of his compassion).

Pause...

"You need to go make supper so Daddy can eat it."

*****

"Mom, how old is God?"

(Great, not another one of these!) "Uh, he's older than everything because he made everything."

"Is he older than me and John?"

"Yep, he's older than Daddy and me, and everyone we know."

"But how old is he?"

"Well, he doesn't really have an age."

Confused look.

"But why?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know."

"Oh. I'll ask Daddy. He knows."

(Incidentally, Marc gave him pretty much the same answers later. Apparently they were more sufficient coming from his mouth).

Gotta love this kid.

Potty Training Boot Camp

In another bout of pregnancy-induced insanity, I made an interesting decision a few weeks ago.

Here's the question I was forced to answer. Jonathan (age 2, or 25 months to be exact): force potty training before baby (due March 23), or put it off until...indefinitely?

I've written about potty training before. With James, we kind of figured it out was we went. I also did an experimental run with Jonathan a few months ago, and failed miserably. 

For some reason the hormones convinced me that I could do it this time. 

But guess what? It worked! Jonathan was mostly trained in about a week.

Thus I give you: Gina's proven potty training method for a young toddler. I hope you find this useful if you have a little one running around!

Please note that this might not work for everyone. Not every child is alike, and not every family has the same schedule and setup as we do. However, I based this method on solid principles I've read about as well as the advice I've sought from several veteran moms. I think that if your child is ready and you stick with it, you can make this happen.

The short version

Get rid of diapers during hours awake - switch to cloth shorts or underwear. Spend an intensive day with toddler and take him to the training potty every time he starts to make a mess. Teach him how to pull his own pants down and practice every time he has an accident. Follow-up with training over the next few days. Toddler will catch on.

The long version

Okay, so in spite of what might be implied by this post's title, I have to confess that I would be am a terrible drill sergeant. Especially with my lovable sweet cuddle child. However, for this reason, the potty training experience was not terrible; in fact, we bonded over it and got a lot of one-on-one time together.

I'm going to break down what a did (loosely) by day. Most of the important stuff happened on the first day.

Also note a few things that were in place prior to intensive training:

• Jonathan was showing interest in the potty and was familiar with sitting on it. I hadn't forced anything up to this point, but he liked to copy everyone else in the house and take potty breaks. So far he hadn't scored any goods in the toilet.
• Jonathan was fully capable of understanding and following basic instructions like "stand up," "sit down," "go over there," etc.
• I had been his primary caregiver and planned to continue being his primary caregiver. I was able to enforce training and follow up with it. Everyone who has watched him since training has been on board (no diapers). This type of method might be difficult if you have a daycare provider who isn't willing or able to follow through.
• I had committed at least a week of a pretty clear schedule. I had to be okay with letting some of the housework and other responsibilities go so I could focus primarily on Jonathan.

Day 1
I dropped James off at Grandma and Grandpa's house (very important!) and then set up potty world in our kitchen -- a training potty, his little table, and lots of little activities and books we could access. This gave us a lot of space, easy cleanup and access to food. I offered Jonathan a lot of salty snacks and encouraged him to drink a lot of juice. This was a big treat from him, so potty training was off to a good start. Not to mention -- he doesn't get a lot of alone time with Mommy.

The diaper came off and I grabbed a big pile of shorts. We started the morning by spending a lot of time just sitting on the potty and practicing pulling the shorts up and down. To get him to stay seated we read books and sang songs (some recommend not doing this because it distracts from the task at hand -- but seriously how else do you get them to sit?). He'd roughly spend about ten minutes on and ten minutes off. Inevitably he got some pee in the potty. This was rewarded with lots of praise (and even a cookie...shhh).

Once it was clear that pee went in the potty (after about an hour), I started making it unpleasant if pee ended up anywhere else. It wasn't "punishment," but more of an opportunity to "practice." I'd ask him if his pants were wet or dry. If they were wet, he had to walk to the potty, pull his pants down, sit down and then up again, pants up. Repeat ten times. Yep, ten times. With minimal assistance. The novelty wore off quickly, and he realized this was not the way he wanted to be spending his time. (For more on this method, see Toilet Training in Less Than a Day. I didn't follow the method exactly, but pretty close). 

At nap time he got a diaper and we both got a break! Whew!

By the end of the day, Jonathan had at least figured out how to hold his pee for a couple of hours, so I let him roam free outside of the kitchen. I moved the training potty back to the bathroom. It wasn't so bad cleaning up a small mess every couple of hours, especially since the shorts absorbed most of it.

Days 2-5
I dropped the whole ten times practice routine on day 2 because it was starting to traumatize us. Maybe he would have trained faster if I hadn't, but like I said, I'm a bad drill sergeant. Instead, I just gave him a disapproving look and told him to go sit on the potty every time he was wet. He got the message. I also switched him to underwear so he would get used to the feel of it. In fact, he and James had an "underwear party" for a few days. Whatever made it fun.

Jonathan typically stayed dry for 2-3 hours. He still had a lot of regular practice time on the potty -- it was sort of a game involving more books and songs. More often than not, though, he still had accidents. But he started taking himself to the bathroom after accidents and told himself "no, no...no messes" whenever they happened.

At some point we switched from the small potty to the big potty, with a Cars 2 training seat on top. He seemed to like it better -- and I'm all for less cleanup.

I'll also mention that he saved his BMs for when he was wearing a diaper -- immediately before and/or after sleeping. Wasn't sure what to think about that.

Day 6
I was seriously contemplating giving up, but then...a light bulb went off! He somehow figured out how to get to the bathroom before he had to go. And he hit the toilet (with some help aiming...still sitting down). Hooray! From here on, it got a lot easier. He still enjoyed doing a lot of practicing, just sitting on the toilet. This was getting pretty old for me.

Days 7+
I gradually made potty time less of a game and more about getting down to business. If I knew he had an empty bladder, I wouldn't sit and sing songs or read books with him.

Day 8
Jonathan finally got over his phobia of pooping in the toilet and dropped one.

Day 10
Our first successful use of a public bathroom! Wasn't so bad....

Now
I am totally confident taking Jonathan anywhere without a diaper (although we haven't done any long car rides yet). He tells me every time he needs to go. Accidents are more about bad aim than forgetting to go (I tried the whole cup on the front of the seat thing, and it doesn't matter...). He still seems to have a poop phobia, but at least he's going in his diaper and not his pants (with the exception of one time). And yes, he's still in diapers for naps and bedtime, but I'm not too concerned about that.

Overall, this method was intense, but I'm definitely doing it again! It was worth every minute. I realize that he may regress once the baby is born, but at least we'll have a solid foundation established.

What about you? Would you approach it this way?

 

 

Mommypage Feature Interview

What would you say are the biggest joys and challenges of raising two boys?

The biggest joys are in all the little moments: learning to walk, learning to talk, blowing me kisses, climbing all over me, drawing pictures, and so forth. I try to take time every day to simply delight in them. The challenges are that they’re boys! They climb things, destroy things, run everywhere, and yell at the tops of their lungs. One of my scariest moments was when my oldest tried to climb a dresser about a year ago. He pulled it over onto himself, and it almost landed on the baby too – when he was only 7-months-old. Miraculously, they were both perfectly fine...

Read more from my interview today over at Mommypage!