Ivan's Birth Story

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Time to tell Ivan's birth story. 
I started this post a couple of weeks ago, but I have decided that holding a baby is far more important than typing... and one handed typing is just not productive or fun~  so I've chosen hours of holding my baby over getting this story up.  Glad everyone is patient!  And hopefully the wait didn't raise expectations about how exciting it should be:)

Much about Ivan's birth was a little surprising, first being that John was there.  John and I have been separated for a while and things were not oh so peachy right before Ivan was born.  I think instinct takes over in labor though and you get yourself to a place you can be totally uninhibited.  For me that was John's house (that had been my house) and not a house I was a 'visitor' in (and not the hospital early on in labor). 

Let's start the evening of the 1st.  I was spending the evening at my friend, Kellee's house, with her and other friends who were here from out of town.  I was having the same 'Braxton Hicks' contractions that I'd been having for weeks but as the night went on I was feeling like my back was bothering me and feeling really constipated (a joy of pregnancy).  I was progressively getting more and more annoyed at Kellee's brother in law who kept wearing his snowy shoes all over the house and those of us with sock-feet were getting that horrible wet sock thing going on.  I maybe realized that my anger at the wet sock issue was irrationally over the top (the joy of pregnancy hormones) and I wanted to go take a bath and see if I felt better all the way around and could get some sleep.  It was a little after 11p.m. when I left there.
I said my goodbyes and headed back to my parents' house, where I'd been staying.  A quick bath had me feeling much better and I tried to go to bed.  It didn't work, I kind of wanted another bath, and really wanted my green jam pants.  I decided to head to John's.  On the way I had 2 contractions that were stronger than I'd had up to that point.  My thought train though was still along the lines of "it is not this baby's birthday yet, I'll get back in the tub at John's and contractions will stop, baby will get here in a week or 2". 
I arrived at John's at almost midnight and told him it was time to put his kids in bed.  I lit candles and got in the tub, on the way into the tub I had another contraction that felt more 'real'. He got his kids headed to bed then questioned if I really thought it might be baby time.  Still I had high hopes that the bath would stop the contractions so my answer was a mix of maybe and probably not.  We kind of tried to time contractions but it didn't really happen.
With the contractions I was having in the tub I'd lift my pelvis and rock back and forth in the water, it made them pretty painless (giving me more hope that they'd just stop).
Pretty soon I decided I needed to get out of the tub temporarily to go to the bathroom, it wasn't easy getting out of the water, and I had full intentions of getting back in.  But...as soon as I made it to the toilet I knew it really was this baby's birthday, as the contractions got much stronger and faster.  I called out to John and when he came to the door I told him he needed to call his mom or sister to come be with the kids because he was going to have to take me to the hospital.  He called his sister, Leda, and she came to get the 2 little girls.  John decided the older 2 and their cousin could stay home alone for a while. 
The things I remember during this time,   1~how nice and peaceful the candlelit bathroom was and how good the lavender oil smelled 2~that I was talking to the baby, telling him that if indeed he decided it was his birthday I'd roll with it but if he wanted to hang out and live in my uterus just a few more days that would be groovy too.
Then the nausea hit.  I'd forgotten how strong the nausea is during that stage of labor.  So I spent a few minutes throwing up in a towel, then doing it again.  (This is the point that the bathroom stopped smelling wonderful like lavender).
About this time the contractions got even more intense, John kept coming to check to see if I was ready to head to the hospital and I kept telling him I would be in just a minute.  I was thinking "as soon as there is a break in contractions I'll put clothes on and we'll go".  There weren't many breaks and I realized I couldn't get dressed on my own with the intensity of the contractions so again I yelled for John to come to me.  I told him I thought my water had broken, as soon as the words were out of my mouth there was a loud popping/gushing sound and I said "and I think it broke again" (yes, there is time to be humorous in labor).  (Luckily I was still on the toilet at that time).
All of this was happening quite fast as it was not even 1a.m. yet when John brought me my shoes, helped me get dressed and grabbed the bags I told him I wanted to take. 
Out to the truck and I realized I faced the problem that I knew sitting down would be unbearable.  So I knelt in the passenger seat facing back.  It was a good position for the pain.  I could still rock during the contractions (and grunt and groan and moan, which helped more than anything).  The drive to the hospital would be roughly 20 miles.
Kellee was going to be our doula and John called her as we were driving (I remember hoping she was sober enough to want to come to the hospital with us!)  She is awesome and called the hospital to let them know we were on our way and who our doctor was so they could call him in.  She and Julie (who happened to be there that weekend) headed to the hospital to meet us (what great friends!).
I quite liked the bumpy icy roads, they helped the pain, but once we were out to the highway and it was smoother the pain was a bit worse.
With all the moaning I was doing I was feeling pretty wimpy. I remember thinking that John was probably rolling his eyes at what a fuss I was making.  (I asked him later and the opposite is true.  He thinks I'm pretty tough.)  Also at that time I was feeling totally bummed because I was thinking to myself that there was no way I would be able to have an all natural birth this time because the pain was so very awful and we weren't even to the hospital yet.  Then just a minute or two later (when we were near the Auburn turn for those of you who know the area) I felt like I was going to have to push, when I shared this news with John he calmly said "don't push".  Good advise.  So I tried not to.  Then the next contraction hit.  My body took over and I couldn't not push.  By the time we were in Grover (just a few miles later) I realized the pushing was productive.  I put my hand in my pj pants and felt and indeed there was a head!
I told John the head was almost out (I think he thought I was just being dramatic about the pain)  He kept telling me that we were almost there.  When I finally looked up and out the window I felt like we were still oh so far away, just getting to Afton and the hospital is way over on the other side (which is really only a couple of miles, if that, but during labor, with a head already birthed, it felt oh soooo far away).
What felt like a long long time but was really only a few minutes we pulled up at the emergency entrance and John went in to tell them we were there.  In the quiet alone waiting for him to come back I wanted to just stay there in the peaceful quiet I wanted to just have the baby.  Out came a CNA with a wheel chair and John opened the door and the both of them encouraged me to get into said wheel chair.  This seemed insane to me since his head was already OUT!  They were saying I needed to get inside.  At that moment it felt like they were asking the impossible of me.  I was in the MIDDLE of birthing a baby and they wanted me to go this long far far distance from entrance of hospital to a room??!?  Seriously?  I just wanted them to leave me alone in the truck so I could finish giving birth.  I was pretty open about the fact that I couldn't do what they were asking so John lifted me out of the truck, my slip on shoes had long fallen off so I'm standing barefoot with a baby half out of me and the temperature was negative 14 degrees.  John wanted to get my shoes but I didn't want him to let go of me (I couldn't have stood on my own) so we skipped shoes.  Again they were wanting me in the wheel chair and again I'm telling them I can't sit, baby's head is already out.  Then I'm realizing that walking is my other option and that doesn't seem do-able so I try to lean/lay in the wheelchair, hand still holding baby's head and making sure I'm not sitting on him.  The CNA runs the wheelchair into the door a few times (that hurt) and finally John gets fed up with it and lifted the chair into the doorway.  We were there before my doctor so the doctor on call meets us in the hall and asks my due date, I keep repeating to everyone "his head is already out", the doctor asks again if I'm due (I bet John answered but I'm not sure).  Then the doctor starts saying things like "lets get you on the bed and check to see how far dilated you are"  AGAIN I keep saying "his head is already out".  Doctor not evidently not believing this says again, "we'll check and see if you are dilating yet".  Sheesh, ignore the mom much?

We get to the room, I stand and take my pants off with one hand, hold baby's head with the other as I walk to the bed.  I lean on the bed and put one leg up, the look on John's face and the doctor's sudden urgency make me realize that indeed they didn't really believe before that moment that yes, the head was OUT!

One small push and the baby was out.  (now 1:16 a.m.) I leaned up to look at him and touch is feet while the doctor clamped and cut the cord.  The baby was still and quiet, which scared me.  The doctor rushed him to the corner where he and the nurses tended to him.  I kept asking if he was ok and if I could have him.  The answer I got from the doctor was "NO!!".  That scared me too, not knowing if my baby was ok.  It seemed like a long time of me asking the same thing before one of the nurses started giving me the play by play.  She said he was fine, that his respiration wasn't great and they needed to get him breathing better but that he would be fine.  She told us that his temperature was low but that he would be fine.  About this time the doctor says its time to check on me.  He comes over, tells me I've torn just a little bit, turns around and vomits.  Really.  Vomits.  One of the nurses is holding a towel for him.  He says at this time to me "It isn't you, I've been sick since ten".  Really?!?!?!  Why are you in here with my minutes old baby?! 
The nurses encourage him to leave, telling him that they'll be able to handle everything just fine until Dr. Morgan gets there.  He leaves, the nurses apologize for him saying he has a horrible flu and has been sick for hours.  Nice, great.  Sheesh.  (but a comical bit in the story, no?)
Finally they hand me my baby, my beautiful (but bruised) baby.  I get to look at him, cry, feed him for the first time, tell him I've waited so very long for him, how happy I am to meet him.  Bliss.

So there it is, for the most part.  My doctor got there (messy hair and in pjs), checked on us, gave me a couple of stitches and went to the next room to deliver another baby.  I got up and showered while the nurses brought in everything to weigh and measure baby, John took pictures.  John had called my parents and they were on their way.  Kellee and Julie came in to see us (Kel was awfully disappointed to have missed helping me birth Ivan, she was all prepared with oils and ready to rub my feet and my back~I invited her to do those things anyway:)
To get Ivan's temperature up I held him skin to skin for about a half hour. My parents came in for a few minutes then everyone went home and we were moved to a recovery room.  I spent the rest of the night (morning) cuddling Ivan, feeding him,  and just staring at him.  Amazed he's really here.

Ivan Stanley~ 7 pounds 9 ounces~ 20.5 inches long.  January 2, 2011~1:16 a.m.

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Lucky to be the mommy

So much is going on in my head right now.  And my heart. 

I am stunned that time is passing so quickly and that in less than 3 months, in my arms, there will be this new little boy.  I am so enjoying him right where he is, these months of feeling him grow and move have been a favorite.   I am just as stunned that he will really be here, that he really is still here, as by anything else.  As I think about it I realize that as excited and happy as I was to find out I was pregnant this time I was at the same time expecting the same heartbreak that has happened with the last few pregnancies.  I didn't really think he'd stay long enough that I could have these wonderful long bathtimes watching him transform the shape of my belly as he pushes and rolls around, nights of finding falling asleep far off because I'm 'listening' to all these little movements inside of me, I didn't expect him to stay long enough that I'd see pictures like these, or find out he is a he.  I of course want him here, I just realize I didn't believe in the kind of luck or miracle that would make it so.  I, somewhere in my heart, had tried to be ready to let go too soon, again.  I had tried to enjoy every second of growing this baby inside me, thinking it would end so soon. 

And now, at almost 29 weeks, I'm able to see relief, gratitude, excitement and joy that he'll really be here, even if something crazy happened and he came today, the chances of him being OK with some modern medical help are oh so good.

I'm still focused on enjoying every second of it, being as present as possible. As I've said before, this part, where I am holding and feeling him, but not yet having to share him, is pretty wonderful.  

To me his movements are telling a whole story, one that takes up much of my attention and intention, one that is enthralling.  I find that when I try to share it, in taking his dad's hand and placing it where I feel this child moving, that dad is only getting a few words.  A little amazing and loved all the same, but not the whole story.  And I realize that I am so lucky to be the mom.

Moments

Outside the last few days for us means cleaning up the yard because of this guy and his friends. This is Polix, I think he's saying, "Hey, how about a hair cut and a bath lady?  I'm ready". 
Also lots of walks, in the rain.  Have I mentioned my crazy love for the rain?  Crazy.  Love.  Really, almost nothing better.
So the other day my son was out playing and he runs in and says "Mom, hurry, you have to see this!!!!!!!!!!!! You'll love it!  It is your favorite!  You'll Love it!  HURRY!!!"  So I go out into the yard with him and he just closes his eyes and turns his face towards the sky and says "The beginning of a rain storm".  Indeed it was and it was beautiful, and smelled fantastic.  I hugged him and told him thank you for coming to get me for it, that yes, I did love it.  He hugged me back and said "You're welcome.  I knew you'd love it because I really know you Mom."  Perfect moments.  Perfect moments.

A few tears and something to smile about!

I dare you to read THIS without crying.  I dare you.

And on a completely separate note, I am so enjoying this:

Notice how empty those laundry baskets are.  Empty.  With only the clothes currently being worn waiting to fill them.  All.  Caught.  Up.  On.  Laundry.   Sigh.  Oh what a great thing!  Now if I could say the same about the rest of my housework I'd be a very happy girl.

Today

This is what I found (as you will often find at our house) on the ledge of the bathtub after
Spencer's bath. Now, you won't always find cowboys and indians, sometimes you will come across Godzilla and his friends and foes. I decided today just to enjoy it. Not let it frustrate me that I ask him to pick up the tub toys every time a bath ends, not to make him clean them up right then, not to clean them up myself right then. Just to enjoy it. I know in a few years when these little boy in the house moments are gone I'll wish there was a battle being waged from the edge of my tub. So today I'll just enjoy it, and the boy that brings it into my life.

And it really is the ...

Truth

"The biggest mistake I made (as a parent) is one that most of us make... I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of (my three children) sitting in the grass in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less."- Author Anna Quindlen, reminds us not to rush past the fleeting moments.

The last of 1st grade

The last day of 1st grade?!?! How in the world did we get here so fast????? Wasn't this tall rough smelly boy just recently a soft warm round little toddler? And so goes the ongoing amazement of how kids grow. Why does this still shock us people? We know logically that its gonna happen, they're gonna grow and change and rather rapidly in these early years. So why am I still a bit on the shocked side looking at how much even this year has changed him (and all of us).
Just 9 months ago I walked my little-more-timid-than-now boy to the back door of the school every morning because he was nervous walking there alone or with other kids, he needed my hand to hold, and I needed his. I needed to see him walk in that door and know that he'd made it (all the way from the front of the school to the back) and I'd wish him a happy day, I'd truly wish it deep within me that it would be a happy day~I know it is hard for each child to have a voice in a classroom as large as public schools offer and I know that kids can be mean~ so each day I'd worry a bit and sincerely wish him a happy school day, a day when none of that tenderness would have to harden to adapt, a day where there were many many more smiles than sadness, a day that he could learn new things and that his heart wouldn't get hurt.
The months went on and somewhere along the way I was able to leave him at the front of the school and watch him walk to the back without my help. This was monumental feeling some days, moments that it would hit me how he is in the not so distant future going to be taking bigger steps away and find his own way without my hand to hold. Days where the conflicts that he faces are bigger and more tragic than what the playground at school will offer. Now before you think I'm nuts because he's only in 1st grade and there are years and years ahead before he's grown, think about any parent/grandparent you know, what is the one thing they all have in common? The one thing they all say over and over? "It went so fast, I can't believe how fast it went, how fast they grew up, how fast they were gone". If already, as young moms, we are amazed at the rapid changes our kids make in the early years (we're already saying "I can't believe how fast he/she's growing!") there is no reason to think it'll slow down.
The trick I hear, is to enjoy it while its happening. Live in the moment. And so I try my hardest to enjoy all these moments, to keep perspective on what is really important and what won't matter later, to smile and laugh with him Now instead of 'after the dishes are done'.
Today dropping him off for his last day of 1st grade and watching him run off with his best friend Bryson with barely a wave to me, no longer even thinking to ask if I will walk him to the door, I am happy that he's so secure and happy and yes, sad that this time is going so so fast. He is 7 but already so clearly I can see him grown more, making his own way, living his life with his whole heart. I will still be wishing him those happy safe days.

Oh my rough and tumble Growing boy!

Oh the growing! The growing! Enough with the growing! And the rough and tumble nature of boys! OY!
Spring is trying to get here and with it all the wonderful opportunity to roll and crash and rumble on the new wet grass. These are photos of Spencer's pants this week.
There has not been a day all week where he has come home with un-grass stained pants or no holes in the knees. Keep in mind that he Goes to school with clean intact knees in his jeans!
I must take a moment to rant about the pants issue all together. This boy Grows! I know that all you moms reading this are feeling my plight! A couple of months ago he started outgrowing his size 7 jeans in a hurry. Ok, this was something I could handle (growing to the next size happens, no?) So out I go and invest in some size 8s thinking they would get us at least through most of summer. Nope. A few weeks and he shot right on through to a size 10. Right after I'd made an investment in the 8s. Sheesh! And its only the length that are the issue. He could probably wear 5s if the legs were longer. These legs on this boy are gonna be long! On the bright side, we are set for cutoffs this summer!
When his dad and I were getting to know each other and started dating, my friends would joke that if ever we had a child together I would have to fold up the baby's legs to fit them in the stroller/car seat/tent. (Maybe they were thinking that the baby would be like a horse and emerge from the womb with full length legs~oh what a painful and hilarious thought!) Well, there was no folding necessary then but now...?
We are lucky that my mom is so willing to mend the tears and holes to give Spencer's pants a few days more of wear time than otherwise!
I know I was warned. Spencer's grandma Cindy warned me many a time (but Spencer was a baby, fitting nicely into baby clothes) and these days felt like they were forever away!
Days are long but years are short.

Gone to live with the Easter Bunny

Spencer is a little sad this week as we have decided that we have somehow become home to too many guinea pigs! So Stripe (some of you know) is the "mean" one and therefore he's been "voted off the island". Poor Stripe. We did name him after a Gremlin (and the meanest Gremlin at that!) after all so what could we expect in the long run?
Still it is hard to see my boy's heart hurting. Even a little sad for me to see Stripe go. We definitely come from a family of 'animal lovers' and that gene didn't skip either of us. So many of my friends don't understand why we'd have a dog let alone our turtle or these rodents. We love them. I love that Spencer can look back on his childhood and have memories of these pets he loved and the things he can learn from them.
Something I'm thankful for in my own childhood is that no matter what new pet we'd come home with my mom wouldn't complain, she'd help us make it a bed, or a box or a cage to live in and help us learn how to take care of it. Something we learned growing up is that when you make a commitment to care for an animal it is a real commitment, you don't just pass it along when you get tired of it or neglect it when it isn't fun to take care of. To my tender hearted little boy I must be passing this along as well, because he is awfully distraught about Stripe leaving when as he put it "We''re the only family he's ever known! What if he doesn't like it somewhere else??"
I knew it would be important for Spencer to be in on this decision making so we've talked a lot about it. I know I may be projecting some of my childhood issues onto him ...and with that here goes my little side note.....When I was very young, maybe 3 or 4, (I know it was that early because we moved to Wyoming when I was 5 and this happens before that) I had a bunny. I think his name was simply 'Bunny'. One day he was gone. My parents told me that he went to live with the Easter Bunny and be his helper. I was a heartbroken little girl but tried to be happy that my bunny would be living with the Easter Bunny. Years later, I was perhaps 8 or 9, we were driving in my mom's van and along side of the road there was my bunny! He was the same golden color, hopping along happily, waiting for us to pick him up (or so I was thinking). But when I excitedly told my parents to pull over because there was my bunny and we needed to take him home they kind of laughed at me. Then continued to inform me that it could not be my bunny because the true fate my little bunny faced was this: We went on vacation. My older sister stayed home. She was supposed to take care of said bunny. She didn't. He died. My parents covered with the tricky "going to live with the Easter Bunny" story. I was very disillusioned. How could they have told me such a thing? We had no funeral!! I was crushed! And it caused me to question all sorts of things, like that crippled baby bird I had saved and tried to love back to health, did he really fly away to his family while I was at school? And later, when my beloved cat Muffy disappeared did my parents really not know where she was? (On this one I have to say that my mom, even recently, swears that if she did know what happened to Muffy she would tell me~~so don't worry Mom, I know you are not keeping her fate from me to spare my feelings...right?)
Back to the subject at hand. Stripe. I knew he had to go and I wanted to be as honest with Spencer about it as possible (no "going to live with the Easter Bunny" here!) So we talked. Stripe has been mean to Rhino (the other male guinea pig) and we're afraid that he's going to kill him. Rhino happens to be Spencer's most beloved tiny creature and so in discussing our problem Spencer has finally agreed that we can find Stripe a new home. His first solution was for us to make another cage (I say us, I mean John) but I vetoed that idea because the thought of a third cage to clean is not in the cards! Yes it would be a third because the girls, Princess Ostrich and No Name, live in the second one. Stripe is now looking for a new place to live, and in the meantime he is in a makeshift cage we put together. So far no one is interested in adopting a mean guinea pig. Shocking isn't it that there is such a small market for such a creature? The only offer I've had is someone who wants to feed him to their pet boa. I turned it down. Hey, I don't want him but after caring for him for the past couple of months I just can't bring myself to feed him to the snake. (I'll note here that even the goldfish that we get to feed to Timely, our turtle, get 'rescued' and put in the fish tank in Spencer's room if Timely isn't quick enough at dinner time that week).
Maybe I'll just give Stripe to nieces Deja & Darien. Then when he 'disappears' it can be in Charlotte's hands to explain how "He went to live with the Easter Bunny". Because as parents sometimes we do what we can to protect those tender little hearts.


(Photo: Dena and Bunny 1980ish)

A reminder

I found a poem the other day that tore at my heart. This is such a reminder to take time to appreciate and invest in the blessings I have Today! The poem will speak for itself. Here it is.......


To My Grown Up Child

My hands were busy through the day
I didn't have much time to play
The little games you asked me to.
I didn't have much time for you
I'd wash your clothes, I'd sew and cook,
But when you'd bring your picture book,
And ask me please to share your fun
I'd say: "A little later, hon".
I'd tuck you in all safe at night
And hear your prayers, turn out the light,
Then tiptoe softly to the door...
I wish I'd stayed a minute more.
For life is short, the years rush past...
A little child grows up so fast.
No longer standing at your side
With precious secrets to confide.
The picture books are put away,
There are no longer games to play,
No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear...
That all belongs to Yesteryear.
My hands, once busy, now are still
The days are long and hard to fill.
I wish I could go back and do
The little things you asked me to.
(Author Unknown)

I think as any parent watches their children grow and change so fast they wonder how it is slipping away and wish they'd spent just a little more time with their kids in the previous stages. I think I've been feeling that since Spencer was a baby! I've always mourned the passing of each little stage he grows out of while at the same time so enjoying the next one. Watching him grow is bittersweet! I miss 'tartar' and 'bagarge' and so many other words long gone. I miss playing Bob the Builder and 'Beast and That Girl'. I miss rocking my tiny baby and all those days gone by. I miss them but I didn't miss out on them. I'm taking my time and savoring all these 7 year old times we're having now but it breaks my heart a little to know how fast I'll be missing these days too!

My 'littler' boy

I found this video while searching for some pictures on my computer. I had totally forgotten about it and was so happy to hear Spencer's 'littler boy' voice! It brings back so many sweet memories! He has grown into a big boy in such a tiny blink of an eye! I love hearing this little toddler voice! Being a mom is my favorite thing ever, I do love every day and every stage he goes through but everyone was right, it goes SO very fast! I miss those days with this tiny boy. Tiny boy BIG attitude!
Spencer had his tonsils out a little over a year ago. His voice is so different after the tonsils are gone so it is such fun to hear this!