Third time's the charm, Part Two.

Okay, you've waited so patiently, so here it is!

So, we finished up lunch at one of our favorite local spots, Arden's, an all you can eat comfort food buffet. It's run by two local women as part of a ministry to recovering addicts and alcoholics who have been recently released back into normal life.  They give them a job and a support team as they get back on their feet - and the food is incredible.  I had a few "niggles" in church and at lunch, but no contractions to really pay attention to, and I enjoyed our time together with our good friends Janis and Stanley. We said our byes when we were done and headed back towards our house. On the way, I started having more noticeable contractions, getting a little painful, and getting pretty regular. At one point, Kevin was explaining the intricacies of the oil pressure sensor switch and how to test it and change it out when he noticed that I was grabbing the door handle and closing my eyes, not talking, but trying to nod politely as he spoke.  He stopped in the middle of a sentence and said, "Okay, I think I'll stop talking now."  Yes, yes, that might be a good idea. As we got closer to the house, I told him my plan was to go straight to the bathtub and if the warm water didn't help to slow down the contractions, that we should probably head to the hospital.  After about 10 minutes, I decided it was better to be safe than sorry and gave him the go ahead.  He called our dear friend and one of our resident Florida grandmas, "Grammy" Karon, so she could wrangle the older two and we would head up to the hospital.  At this point, I still wasn't actually in pain, but the contractions were enough to make me pay attention to them and they were definitely real labor.  We got to the hospital and were taken straight up to Land D.  When we arrived, all was quiet - apparently we were the only people there!  We conversed with the nurses and explained our situation, how I wasn't in full active labor yet, but since it was our third child and the second had come so quickly, we figured it would be better to go early.  They must have reviewed my notes from Jacob's birth because they told us to skip triage and to go straight into one of the labor and delivery rooms to be monitored instead.  This instantly relieved much of my anxiety since one of the worst parts of Jacob's labor was being stuck in triage with about 10 other women, almost no privacy, progressing rapidly, and not having anyone's undivided attention. They assessed me and I was between a 3 and 4, about 40% effaced, but having regular, good contractions.  Abigail was head down and low, but still not low enough to kick in active labor, so they called the CNM on call (Breana) from my OB office and asked what she thought.  She recommended having me "walk walk walk" to see if we could get Abigail to drop any more. She didn't want to send me home just yet, but since I was not yet 39 weeks, she didn't want to augment my labor right away either.  I was totally okay with this and so we started walking. I hadn't done a whole lot of walking on my own because I didn't want to tire myself out before labor actually started, knowing it could've still been days or weeks before Abbie was ready, but since I was on my way to established labor, I was glad to be walking and out of bed.  One woman arrived to be monitored and another arrived to be admitted, but other than that, all was still quiet on the floor.

Walking laps! Don't you love my hair-do, outfit, and accessories??

One of my favorite parts of the whole experience (Yes, I have a favorite part of labor...I know, I know, go ahead and roll your eyes. I'll wait...) was getting to fellowship with the staff.  I say "fellowship" because we truly were surrounded by fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, each with an obvious passion for helping others. I've seen my sister and other nurses I know go above and beyond for their patients, truly becoming the hands and feet of Christ, caring deeply about many of them when no one else does, not even their families. My sister remembered each one of her residents and grieved when they died. Nurses and doctors are who I think of when I read Matthew 25:40, "The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'" The L and D staff was sitting at the nurses station, talking and laughing, and we stopped every few laps to visit and get to know the people in charge of caring for us and Abigail. They saw on our registration form that Kevin was a pastor (that's always a big topic of conversation and questions) and this was the catalyst for many of them opening up and sharing their own beliefs with us. There was a younger guy sitting with the nurses who was talking about how it bothered him to see so much wasted food there at the hospital and at restaurants as well and how he wished there was some way to save that food but the laws seemed so strict. Kevin chimed in and shared how they encountered similar issues at the local food pantry (he's on the board) and that it was usually one person with a bad attitude, looking for a reason to sue, that ruined it for everyone else and that's why the laws are as strict as they are concerning leftover food, but agreed that it was unfair for everyone else. It was nice to see that these people not only cared about their patients, but that they cared about others as well.  We finished our conversation and continued to walk laps. As we rounded the corner to head back to the nurses station, the young man was waiting for us beside the desk. He introduced himself to us as the nurse anesthetist and he would be the one handling pain management for me - turns out these wonderful nurses had made sure that he was around just in case I needed him. He was on call for the night and so far, I was the only patient there, so he got everything ready for us in the likely case that I was admitted and told me once I was in the system, to just let him know when I was ready, and he would put in my epidural.  This relieved (almost all of) the rest of my anxiety as I now knew that pain relief would come quickly once I felt I needed it.  We told him about my previous labor and he told me not to worry, he had done epidurals at 9 and 10 centimeters and said as long as I could be still for long enough to get the needle and catheter in, he could do it with no issues.  I wanted to hug him, but since I had just met him, I decided a big smile, handshake, and thank you would suffice.  We made a few more laps and stopped so I could be checked again. Abigail was a full station lower and I was now a solid 4 cm.  They told me I could stay in the room and wait for them to call Breana again or I could walk some more; I chose to walk because being mobile really helped the contractions stay in the bearable range.  So we continued on our path, chuckling to ourselves over the "Quiet Zone, silence is healing" sign - our last experience had been anything but quiet! Right before the shift change, Karen, my nurse, wanted to check me one more time so she could update the incoming nurse on my progress.  Abigail was no longer "ballotable", which meant she was fully engaged and active labor would be starting any time.  She called Breana, who gave the go ahead for me to be admitted, and they started my IV to pump me full of fluids in preparation for the epidural.  Damien (AKA the angel in blue scrubs with magic drugs) came in and asked me if I was ready for my epidural.  I said sure, since he was there and I was already at a 4. I knew I could progress quickly and since I wasn't in much pain, I might as well start out ahead of the curve.  He asked me if I wanted an epidural and a spinal, or just an epidural, explaining that the difference was a spinal was fast acting and would provide relief in 1 minute, while the epidural would provide relief in 10 to 15 minutes.  He also let me know that the spinal being done first would help him be able to control my blood pressure level a little more and to bolus the epidural more slowly so that I wouldn't get nauseous.  Again, knowing how fast I could progress and the problems I had had with my blood pressure dropping with Karis, I chose the spinal and epidural. He also asked me how many church members knew I had a tattoo on my back, I laughed and replied that I honestly didn't know, I never attempted to hide it, but it's not in the most visible spot either.  As for the actual epidural, the only pain I felt was the needle with the numbing agent, which was little more than a pinch, and soon I felt my lower body growing warm and the contractions melting away. This was such a relief, especially since I had back labor with Karis - the epidural had helped, but it didn't take away the pain. This time, there was no back labor, just blessed pain-free pressure.

Regular, strong, and painless! Woot!

 He clearly knew what he was doing because I could feel the pressure I needed to feel and I could feel it getting stronger, but the pain was totally gone. Time went by and I tried to rest while Kevin read.  I knew I was progressing because the pressure slowly began to increase and get lower (although it still didn't hurt at all). I suddenly felt really nauseous and had Kevin grab the bathroom trashcan for me since I couldn't get out of bed. As I graced the trash can with leftover Arden's, I wished I hadn't eaten such a big lunch, but was relieved that I felt better once I was done instead of staying nauseous. My new nurse, Nadine, came in and brought me washcloths and a syringe full of Zofran to help the nausea. She checked me and I had progressed some more and was getting close to transition.  After a while, we heard Abigail's heart rate dip during a couple of contractions and soon Breana and Nadine hurried in to check my progression again. I was about to tell them about the dips when I heard Breana telling Nadine that the "decels" meant that her head was being compressed and that she had probably moved lower.  Sure enough, they checked and she had moved into a positive station, so Breana broke my water for me and they started a low dose of Pitocin - with our permission - to keep things moving in the right direction. We were all tired and there wasn't an on-call room available for Breana, so I thought moving things along was in everyone's best interest! Had I not had an epidural, I'm not sure I would've agreed to Pitocin, but in this case, it actually helped.  After another hour or so, I told Nadine that I was feeling "pushy" with the pressure and that I thought I was probably complete. She checked and sure enough, I was. Breana came back in, along with another nurse and the tray of instruments, just in case. The whole situation was a little surreal to me, it was so calm and pleasant, no yelling or grunting or panicking, just a peaceful "run of the mill" birth. Kevin wasn't turning green or swaying, I wasn't in pain, but could feel enough to be able to push, honestly, it was just perfect. Breana was relieved that she was coming so quickly because when we were done, she would be able to go home and sleep instead of trying in vain to find an on call room to sleep in. I laughed (apparently I laughed a lot) told her that I was not a great pusher and that I would need some direction, to which she laughed and said "Don't tell me that!"  She refreshed me on the "method" and we got ready. She told me to push with the next contraction and I did, but almost immediately she said, "Wait! Not that much!", so I backed off a little. I was waiting to push again when I heard Breana say, "Awww! She's just a little peanut!"  I looked at Kevin, who looked back at me, both of us a little confused as to how she could possibly know that - until we realized Abigail was already out!  Breana held her up and placed her on my chest and the first thing that popped out of my mouth was, "Oh Abigail! You're so tiny!"  She truly was a tiny little thing, 6 lbs even and 19 inches long. Her head was only 13 cm so it's no wonder she didn't need much of a push!

Happy mommy, tiny baby!

The whole labor and delivery experience with Abigail was similar to my experience with Karis, but more laid back and serene because we had done this twice already and knew what to expect (for the most part).  I'd been told many times that the third child is the "wild card" in many ways and that was true for me too, she was my smallest baby, earliest baby, but longest labor - clocking in at just under 12 hours.

There's a song by Phillips, Craig, and Dean that I love called "Your Grace Still Amazes Me". That's how I felt about this particular birth - I could honestly feel the hand of God guiding us through the entire labor experience and paving the way for us and Abbie.  My dear friend Julie had reminded me earlier in the week (when I was freaking out) that God had been faithful to honor my wishes with Jacob when I wanted to have an unmedicated birth experience, and he would be faithful to help us out this time as well, I just had to trust him.  I thought about it and realized she was right, he was faithful to my hopes last time and honestly, perhaps it was his grace that allowed Jacob's birth to be fast and furious and Abigail's to be slow and steady as he knows me more intimately than anyone else and knew what my body and mind could handle.  Now, I'm not saying that God isn't involved in other births (for example Karis' birth, he was present with us, but we controlled many aspects of her birth, like being electively induced because I/we just couldn't wait any longer, etc.), he definitely is - what I mean is I think there's something to be said for his followers who consciously invite God into every corner of their lives and then watch for him to show up instead of trying to control it themselves. Any of us who have experienced this know that we are not disappointed - and often blown away by his provision as it turns out better than we could have imagined. It may not be exactly what we expect, but that's the beautiful thing about trying to pray the way Jesus prayed and not how we often want to pray - thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven; not my will, but thy will be done.  There's a scary and refreshing lack of specifics in those prayers, giving God the type of wild freedom that often scares us.  Think about what it means to give someone freedom - it means that you are relinquishing control of that person, that they can make their own choices and do their own thing.  I believe that when we give God that freedom (and he does not take it from us, it is something we choose to give), we ourselves are freed from anxiety and expectations and our eyes are opened to what God is really doing - and really, where else would you rather be than right in the middle of God's work?  Even when it includes things that were not in my plans (like 3 children), I know that I would not want to be anywhere else. My heart overflows with love for these sweet babies that have taken my life by storm; they are my miracles, my blessings. Thanks be to God.

Third time's the charm, Part 1.

(Disclaimer: If you get grossed out or offended by pregnancy and birth stories, I would recommend that you not read this.)

At 12:31am this past Monday morning (or as Kevin likes to say, "Zero Dark Thirty-One"), our lives changed forever - again. Abigial, meet world; world, meet Abigial.

Me and my squishy!

Our gestational journey this time started back in October, when Jacob was just 7 months old. After three home pregnancy tests, it was time to face the music and schedule an ultrasound.  I was still in denial, thinking perhaps the two blue lines, pink plus sign, and clearly digital "Pregnant" display were merely some sort of cruel joke my hormones were playing on me. Perhaps leftover hCG from my previous pregnancy or a cyst of some sort...or maybe even early menopause... As funny as it sounds now, all of these options seemed just as plausible to my dazed mind as the possibility of another pregnancy. But sure enough, as I laid on the ultrasound table and stared at the screen, there it was - a beautiful and terrifying little heartbeat, pumping wildly, singing a song of wonder and possibilities.  Not even in our craziest dreams had we entertained the actual possibility of having three kids. We barely ended up with two after my awful pregnancy and delivery with Karis prevented me from exploring the idea of planning any more children.  My pregnancy with Jacob wasn't much easier and my labor and delivery experience with him was enough to leave me shaking in terror at the thought of doing it again.  I lived the first 4 months of the pregnancy in fear, chaos, and the ever present denial.

My sanity-saving grace?  The Gethsemane prayer - Father, not my will, but your will be done.

I knew that if God wasn't going to change my circumstances that I would need a heart change in order to be able to deal with a new pregnancy.  Deep down, I didn't really want God to change my circumstances, I was just scared, and what I really needed was a new lease on life.  My plans had been turned to rubbish - my classes, degree, and dreams were being put on hold, again.  Suddenly, it became quite clear to me that my role at this particular time in my life was that of a full-time mom and wife and I wasn't totally sure how I felt about that.  So, I did the best I could and took it one day at a time.

Months passed and around 34 weeks, I started feeling contractions - real ones, not Braxton Hicks, as they were causing changes in dilation and effacement. They would start and stop daily, often reaching the "5-1-1" rule, but never strong or regular enough for me to go to the hospital. My test was if I could go to sleep, I would either wake up in real labor or they would be gone. I remembered going through the same thing with Jacob and knew that this was "prodromal" labor/irritable uterus, which was later confirmed by my doctor's office.  My greatest fear now was that these early contractions would progress me slowly to the point of active labor -- and then all hell would break loose again. About 4 days before I went into labor for real, I had a massive panic attack and breakdown over the prospect of having another precipitous labor. The truth is while it is "short and sweet", it is also intensely painful as your body is taken by surprise and loses it's ability to produce endorphins effectively. I called Kevin, who came home and listened to me blubber about what all I was feeling and how scared I was. He hugged me and asked, half jokingly, how many emotions I was feeling - 10? 1000? Eleventy billion?  I laughed weakly and said, "All of the above." He then asked, on a more serious note, "Which emotion is the strongest?"  "Fear", I said, instantly feeling the blood in my veins run cold.  His response was this: "I know you're scared, but remember, fear is just an emotion, you don't have to let it be reality." I remembered a conversation earlier about how Jesus probably didn't feel  that he was being faithful when he cried out to God on the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" - but that didn't mean he wasn't faithful. Our emotions are not always reality, even though they may feel that way.  I knew he was right. I am so thankful for my kind-hearted, loving, funny husband who not only understood my needs in that moment but was able to help me wade through them. I was most afraid of not making it to the hospital in time for pain medication - my experience with Jacob was too fresh in my mind to intentionally attempt natural childbirth again, and scenes of an over-filled triage room and too busy to listen nurses filled my mind.  I texted back and forth with my friend Julie (who was also so encouraging!), discussing various things, when it suddenly occurred to me that instead of just freaking out, maybe I should turn to Scripture and find my comfort there.  Not having my actual Bible with me, I went to the next best thing - Google! - and typed in "scriptures for new moms".  That led me to a blog post of 10 scriptures for new moms and a link to a previous blog post that included 10 scriptures for surviving pregnancy.  They were all good ones, but the one that reached out and grabbed me was from Isaiah 43.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
    I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
2 When you pass through the waters,
    I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
    they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
    you will not be burned;
    the flames will not set you ablaze...

You are precious and honored in my sight...

I love you.

Forget the former things;

    do not dwell on the past.
19 See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland."

As I read it over and over and prayed (again) for God to take the lead over labor and delivery, a peace washed over me. I broke down and cried tears of repentance and joy. I knew God had heard me and that he would be faithful. He created me and he created Abigail, he knew us both more intimately than I could imagine, and only He could see into the future and determine the right time and place.  So, I waited.  Over the next several days, I could sense labor was drawing close, but I was no longer obsessed with trying to control it. I tried to relax and carry on as normal, knowing that when the time was right, I would know what to do.  On Sunday, I went to church with my family, but since the kids in my Sunday School class were either at camp or in Orlando, I was able to visit the Lillies of the Field class, a multi-generational class of women taught by a retired lawyer who also happens to be one of our deacons, Carol.  It was wonderful to sit and listen and be taught instead of teaching and I loved being in the midst of women older than I who had the experience and wisdom that I needed to hear.  They encouraged and commiserated with me, prayed for me, and listened to me.  We went to church and heard a wonderful message from my wonderful husband from Romans 8 (one of my favorite passages). He pointed out that Romans 8:1 is just as true as Romans 6:23, but that we tend to forget that.  He placed a large red trash can at the front of the church and had us fill out small pieces of red paper with things that we still held in our hearts that we felt deserved condemnation - those little sins that seem to hold on and guilt us into not forgiving ourselves and others - even when God has.  I wrote down several things, two of which were "emotional desperation" and "fear". Along with my fellow church members, I threw them away and walked back to my seat, accepting that God did not condemn me and I would not condemn myself.  Feeling lighter and freer than I had in weeks, I left church with my family and went to lunch.

To be continued...