A BIG catch up

Darin is asleep in our bedroom with the light on. And I am on the computer wasting time, because who doesn't have time to waste at 12:30 in the morning?  My excuse is that we are leaving on a trip tomorrow and I had to wait for the laundry to finish so I could take out a few things to pack.  And I should have a baby waking at any moment to snuggle and eat a little before graciously sleeping the rest of the night *fingers crossed*. Not that I had to mention this, but I am a terrible blogger.  I'm not going to beat myself up about it, especially because I have been decent at writing in a journal for the last little while, and that is really the reason I started a blog in the first place.  But really, I need an update of our life with pictures, so look out.  Here it comes:

This summer has been blissful.  Neither Darin nor I have taken classes and we have enjoyed a much needed break filled with family time.  Darin started classes and resumed full-time work the day after Lily got home from the hospital, so in her lifetime, there is a good amount of time when she has not been able to play as much with her daddy.  This summer break came just at the right time, as Lily is now at the point where she REALLY loves playing with daddy and loves playing in general.  She is curious and intrigued by everything that goes on around her.  She wants to experience it all by scooting, rolling, crawling to an object then touching, yelling at, and tasting it.  She is pretty much beyond fantastic and there is nothing in our lives that makes us happier than watching her explore life and find joy in the little things, like crinkly paper, a shelf full of DVDs, the wood floor, and Darin's cell phone.  She enjoys her toys too.  In fact, toys she gets bored of at the end of the day become brand new and exciting to her when she wakes up in the morning.  I hope that goes on forever.

Before the plethora of pictures ("Jefe, what is a plethora?"..." Why, El Guapo?"), Here are our family datos:
DARIN, Summer 2011:

Occupation: working at RC Willey.  He just changed positions from salesman to customer service extraordinaire. It is a huge blessing as he gets to work less hours during the school year, can study at work, and maintain his benefits. Thanks Rufus.

Lover of: all things chocolate.  And we have had plenty of goodies this summer, but we have also enjoyed working out together, mostly going on family runs in the morning with our new jogging stroller.  We found an awesome deal on Amazon and got an additional 15% off because they shipped it a week late. bam. Running with him gives me a hard workout.  The man could sit in a box for a year eating twinkies and could pop out and run like a gazelle at any given moment.  He smokes me every time. He is also the love of his little girl's life.  And he loves her SO much.  She lights up noticeably every time he is around.  It is absolutely adorable.  He can get her to squeal like no one's bidness.  He is a phenomenal daddy. Oh yeah, and he loves me and treats me like I'm the sunrise that brings him to life every day.

Would like to grow up to be:  A doctor.  We think.  We have decided to go forward with the goal of medical school.  Plan B is PA school.  Plan C is university professor. Plan D is family therapist (actually, I just think he would be good at it, so why not make it plan D?). Plan E: professional bum.  Either way you look at it, we are in it (meaning the student life) for the long haul (Except in the case of plan E).  Good thing we enjoy it.

And now MICHELLE, weighing in at a whopping ----- (you thought I was going to give that away, huh? Not so lucky this time) in Summer 2011:

Occupation: Full time mommy.  And LOVING it!  I opted out of taking classes last semester, which was a big decision for me, especially since it would have been the last semester before graduation.  Classes started the day after I got home from the hospital with a 5 inch slice through my gut.  I couldn't sit up by myself and walking around the house was enough for me.  Walking around campus probably would have killed me (no joke, I went to buy my books and nearly passed out. Lily was not the only one needing to be wheeled around).  And for anyone who has not had the delight of raging hormones and outrageous emotions after giving birth, just know that I applaud any woman who can go on with life, pretending to not be affected by them.  So, home I stayed with my little chub-a-lub (she became one, anyway).  I have adored  our time together and I needed time to heal. I don't regret that decision.  It was a huge life change and one I am glad I stuck around to enjoy. One day I will graduate, but not until my last class is finally offered again (one semester a year...so I have to wait until January to take it).

Lover of all things:  family.  I LOVE my little tootsie roll and my wonderful husband and best friend.  They are my whole world. They make me oh so happy. I've also enjoyed the slow and steady improvement of my culinary skills.  Part of me wishes I could have realized the love I would have towards creating something amazing to tickle the palate a little earlier in life.  I would have gone to culinary school and became a five-star chef.  But I'll just have to learn bit by bit and religiously watch Master Chef with Darin every summer instead. As I mentioned before, I am quite liking my daily jogs with the Lilster and the hub.  And, what else? My neighbor came over and taught be how to crochet the other day.  Watch out world.

Would like to grow up one day.

Last but certainly not least: LILY GIRL.

Weighing in at a whopping (no really...whopping is totally merited here) 18 lbs. at her 6 month check up.  She still has cheeks that could take over the world and they are oh so kissable.

Occupation: Greatest baby ever.

Lover of all things: crinkly, shiny, things that light up, play music, you get the picture.  She loves being outside, being free to roam wherever she is, face away from whoever is holding her (she needs to see what is going on, people), eat anything she can get her hands on including my glasses, the couch, my knee cap, Darin's hair, you name it.  She loves her tongue and sings with it curled up at the end and sticking out of her mouth, especially when you lead her in a few good la la la's. She likes to watch mommy do everything from makeup, to vacuuming, to talking on the phone.  I have to remember that she is always watching me and that she always will.  I will always respect the constancy of motherhood.  I am humbled and thankful that I have her to keep me in check and inspire me to be a better person, all that I need to be, for her and my husband and my God.  Love that sweet and spunky girl.

Is growing up by: eating solid foods (finally).  We were out of town a lot for her 6th month, so I started her a little late.  She loves carrots, peas, apple sauce, mangos, sucking on frozen fruit in her mesh teether, and still very much loves mommy's milk (even though she is the wiggliest and most distracted nurser ever).  She now thinks rice cereal is kind of lame, but loved it with carrot juice mixed in. She dominates a sippy cup. She sprouted her first tooth during the evening of Monday the 8th of August. She crawled around the room slowly, but without belly flopping 3 times yesterday, so I'd say we officially have a crawler. She talks and loves the sound of her own voice, but is a little more reserved around strangers. She doesn't have stranger anxiety yet, but she seems to be a little less vocal when there is a new face.  She is a little like her mama in that way.  She pulled her diaper open the other day.  I don't appreciate that mile stone.

If you are still reading, congrats.  We'll have to hold a giveaway for whoever finishes this post.  This is what you get for following a woman who blogs once a decade.

Stay tuned for pictures hopefully tomorrow.  I know, I know, I promised them, but I didn't expect to spew forth so much info up there either. So until then, goodnight, dear void.

My kind of emotional discovery.

I wrote this post a while ago, but didn't post it because it seems to be a little too personal. I had a mission companion, however, who promised herself she would tell me exactly how she was feeling all the time so that she didn't explode from keeping things locked up. I have found that sharing some things also spares me some emotional plaque build up. I am not as brave as she to share everything, but this post is quite real, so continue at your own risk, I guess.

2/25/11
Today I read a document that Katie Astin sent before my labor entitled Cesarean Fact Sheet.  Truth be told, I did not read it before my delivery.  I didn’t think I needed it.  I saw it unopened today and read through it.  As I read fact after fact, and reason after reason that cesarean sections did not need to be performed in so many cases, I felt a sadness come over me and felt the tears start to form in my eyes and escape despite my unwillingness to let them.  I read a list of reasons that a cesarean section would be necessary and searched for my situation, but didn’t find one that fit.  Truly, one of my looming fears is that my cesarean section wasn’t necessary.  I felt it was at the time.  I knew I wasn’t progressing and that the risk of infection for me and my baby was increasing with every passing minute due to my broken water, but here I am eight weeks later to the day, and I am still not entirely sure I could not have had my baby vaginally.  My midwives told me all through my pregnancy that my pelvis was large enough and that there was plenty of room for a baby to fit through.  Then right after surgery, the surgeon says that my pelvis is very small and that I will probably never be able to have a VBAC.  According to the fact sheet I received whose information was taken from ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) :
“True absolute cephalopelvic disproportion or CPD (baby too large for pelvis) is extremely rare and only associated with a pelvic deformity (or an incorrectly healed pelvic break). Fetal positioning during labour and maternal positioning during second stage, most notably when women are in a semi-sitting position, cause most CPD diagnosed in current obstetrics.”

I was never diagnosed with CPD officially, but I have never had a pelvic break nor do I have pelvic deformities (yes I have had my pelvis x-rayed, and no, nothing ever came back about a deformity).  What was really frustrating, though I have tried not to dwell on it, was going to my six week check up after my delivery and having my midwife tell me that I did have a really small pelvis.  Really?  I don’t think it shrunk.  

As I read Katie’s document, I went to the ICAN website.  I don’t know what I was looking for, maybe someone I could talk to to see if my situation really merited a cesarean section.  I have been wanting that since I underwent surgery- just someone to validate that I made the right decision and was not just at the mercy of the hospital staff with their liabilities and “protocols”.  Then I came across a page about the increased prevalence of postpartum depression in women who undergo c-sections and I read this line : “You have the right to mourn your birth and your trauma while celebrating your child. These are two different events in your life, even if they are happening simultaneously.”
I don’t know why it took that line to give me the permission I needed to mourn my birth, but I suddenly felt free to do so.  I let the tears come.  I cried and mourned the birth I had envisioned for months of pregnancy.  I mourned not being able to use the training and the preparation I had painstakingly acquired just for this event.  I mourned not being able to recognize the transition phase and not being able to push at my own pace, taking three breaths and holding the last one while bearing down.  I mourned not being able to use the squatting bar.  I mourned not being able to hold my child on my chest immediately afterward and put her to my breast to nurse.  I mourned the fact that neither I nor my husband held our child until she was taken into a nursery, had all her tests done, was packaged and delivered to the recovery room where I had been deposited alone to shiver and pass in and out of consciousness after I had been stitched up. I mourned the fact that I was so drugged that I could not stay awake long enough to truly revel in the joy of my newly found motherhood; neither could my baby as she was drugged by the same drugs I had been given.  I mourned the fact that within my first minutes holding her, I vomited from getting additional pain meds on a completely empty stomach knowing that going hungry is a formality taken by hospital staff and completely unnecessary during normal labor.  I mourned that lost bonding time.  I mourned not being able to stand my ground when my surgeon insisted that waiting to clamp the cord made no difference.  I mourned not being able to sit up and get out of bed on my own for weeks after delivery.  I mourned not being able to walk around for very long before being totally wiped out for several weeks afterwards.  I mourned that normal, beautiful, empowering vaginal delivery and that triumphant feeling that I had just accomplished a miracle; that I had birthed my baby.

I have had these 8 weeks to celebrate my child and I have and do celebrate her.  I love her so very much and have felt more joy with her in my arms and my husband at my side than I think I have ever felt before.  But I had not mourned my birth until now.  I needed to and I didn’t realize how necessary it was.  I am not done mourning it.  I need time to continue to do so; time to heal emotionally from it.  I hope healing will happen as I continue celebrating my little Lil Pill.  Her perfect little smiles do seem to have healing powers.

Miracle

It happens every day and yet it continues to be a miracle every time. I wish I had lived the more natural, designed-by-the-hand-of-God miraculous side of it, but bearing a child was a miracle none the less, and it left me full of wonder and feeling rather humbled to have been a part of something so Godlike as creation.

On December 31st, 2010 at 1:49 PM, Lily Jane Brooks was born. We planned on filming her entry into the world after whatever amount of labor and pushing, free of drugs or medical intervention. But this is how it actually happened:

****(Viewer's discretion advised, this is about to get very bloody)*****

For journaling purposes, I'm going to go ahead and give the nitty gritty details on how this came to pass.

Sometime Tuesday, December 28th, 2010: Water breaks.

It wasn't the pop and gush type of water breaking. In fact, I am not sure when exactly this took place. I think that it might have happened in the evening, right after I decided to shovel snow with Darin. We wanted to be able to get the car out should we need to go to the hospital in the middle of the night. Seeing as how last time there was heavy snow, we couldn't leave the parking lot without attaching chains to our tires and some manly pushing (a 30 minute process), we decided to be more prepared. Aaaand, I admit, I wanted to go into labor and had already tried almost everything I could think of (except castor oil. I read a review online of a lady who took a whole bottle with a cup of Sunny D and that alone made me want vomit then curl up and die. It didn't work for her anyway, but Honestly? Sunny D? Was she trying to go into labor or cause some irreparable psychological damage? ) So, perhaps the rigorous shoveling is what did it. I noticed what I thought was just a little more vaginal discharge but didn't think anything of it.

Wednesday rolls around. Still had discharge. Wednesday night comes, and I think it might be thinner than usual. Is it increasing? Maybe this is amniotic fluid. Nah, probably not. There is hardly anything coming out. I wouldn't even call it a trickle. Let's sleep on it. Why didn't I just call my midwife? Because I am silly. I had had false labor the week before and made it all the way to the hospital before it stopped and was feeling pretty sheepish about it, so I did NOT want to go back to the hospital until I KNEW I was in labor. Yes, silly.

Thursday, December 30th, 2010: Getting the party started...

Darin and I had a lovely morning of sleeping in together. It was Darin's day off and we were still enjoying the Christmas break. We hung around in our pajamas and had a late breakfast. We were getting ready to go to the temple when I realized that the discharge had noticeably increased. I had an appointment scheduled later that afternoon with my midwifery, but thought I would call to see if they would like me to come in sooner. They suggested I went to the hospital to be evaluated. So, we didn't go to the temple, but packed our things instead. We had pretty much everything packed from the false labor the week before. We even had the house mostly scrubbed down from nesting the week before, so prepping to leave this time was really chill. I wasn't even experiencing any more contractions that the regular small ones I had had for the past few weeks. At 3 PM we strolled into the hospital, explained why we were there as it was obvious I was not struggling through labor, and went to the evaluation room. They ran a few tests, I had an apple juice, and they came back to tell us I was leaking amniotic fluid. Once they realized that I had been leaking for two days and had not started labor, they informed me that I and my baby were at risk for infection if labor didn't start and they needed to get things rolling. We were moved into a labor and delivery room.

Thursday, December 30th, 5 PM: Pitocin

So scratch that part off of the birth plan. We had created a nice, detailed birth plan, but of all the things we did not want to have happen, the first main intervention that I wanted to avoid was Pitocin. Yeah, I had planned on just saying no, but this situation had already annihilated that option. My sister-in-law had similar leaking of her amniotic fluid and did get an infection which escalated her pregnancy into an at-risk category. So, we went ahead and started me on pitocin. They started out with the lowest dose. After three hours of minor contractions and no further dilation, they upped the dose....and upped it again....and again....and again until I was on the full amount that can be administered.

8 PM and through the night...

Pitocin caused contractions. I felt them. They got increasingly more severe, but every time our wonderful midwife, Jenny checked my dilation, nothing changed. I was at a 1+, the same I had been at for the last three weeks.

I had pretty intense back labor, and my midwife thought that she must be posterior. She said that you can labor through and deliver a posterior baby no problem, but comparing it to a normally positioned baby, it was like running a marathon in a snowstorm, whereas laboring with a normally positioned baby was just running the marathon. Even though I felt like I was, I wasn't running anywhere, snow or shine with my labor. If I had all this pain, why were my shoes glued to the ground?

Darin was a wonderful coach. We had been through a Bradley workshop with Katie Astin, an awesome girl in our ward. I had read all about the Bradley method and done practices. I got so into it that I wanted to become a Bradley instructor. Unfortunately in order to become a Bradley instructor you have to have a successful Bradley birth. Another disappointment. But, that is beside the point. We were still able to use the things that we had learned. We changed positions and used relaxation methods. Darin talked me through my contractions by painting relaxing and peaceful scenes in detail. This really helped me get outside of myself and let my body do the work. Darin's mom was a huge support as well. She stayed with us all night and even let Darin sleep some.

Contractions were getting harder and more painful. For some reason, when I got into the positions that felt most comfortable to handle the contractions, Lily's heartbeat wouldn't read on the monitor. I had a mobile monitor that allowed me to walk around, but being on all fours, leaning over the bed or a ball, or Darin was out of the question since our little girl's heart beat would drop off the charts every time I did. I didn't want internal fetal monitoring, and neither did my midwife as she found it unnecessary and supported our wishes. But this meant that I had to labor in the most uncomfortable position for my back pain: on my back or on my side. This was the only way we could monitor her, which was necessary with the pitocin drip. It was a long night.

Friday, December 31st, 2010: The infamous 1+

6:00 AM: Jenny comes into our room to check my dilation again. I was CERTAIN that we had progressed. I was exhausted, and contractions were hard and close together and long. I knew that pitocin affected the rhythm of contractions, causing them to peak several times before coming down again. Because I could tell this was happening I didn't time the contractions or ask Darin to tell me when I had reached the peak of one, I just let them come. But I felt my body was working harder and I really felt confident that we were dilating. I saw the surprise and disappointment in Jenny's face however, as soon as she finished checking; I knew things were not going my way. She said I was at a 1+. Knowing our desires to finish this as naturally as possible, she allowed us to keep trying and didn't push any further intervention. The nurses were similarly supportive and encouraging. I never felt pushed, I never felt pressured. If only I could get my body to cooperate.

10 AM: Checked again. 1+. The last several hours showed some good, strong, supposedly productive contractions accompanied by pain. And though the pain was intense, I never felt that I had to have relief, that I couldn't handle it. Yet there we were, at a 1+....still. The pain meant nothing. The contractions and the pain were not doing their job to allow this little one to come out. Jenny didn't need to say anything. She just looked at me and Darin and we could see what she was thinking. This was not going to end how we wanted it to. she had mentioned earlier that if things didn't start changing, we needed to consider other options. We arrived at that point. We needed to consider other options. It had been 3 days since my water had broken. The risk of infection increased with every passing hour and every vaginal exam. I knew this wasn't like the horror stories of OBs who just wanted to go to lunch so they were stepping up the pit or scheduling a c-section, or the hospital staff who just wanted to open up a bed so let's get this slowly laboring woman out of here. My midwives and the nursing staff were incredible. I knew that I was going nowhere. I had hope and I was willing to go as long as it would take, but the future did not look bright.

My midwives switched shifts and Jennifer, another fabulous woman, came in to take over. Even though things were not looking up, she still allowed us to keep trying for another couple of hours.

12 PM: 1+. I hated those words. Oh how I hated them. Jennifer sat on my bed and rubbed my leg as she explained that with some women, albeit not many, an epidural actually allowed their labor to progress. Nothing was progressing here: 19 hours on pitocin and not a bit more dilated. Truly, she thought it was my best and probably only chance for having this baby come vaginally. The second main intervention that I wanted to avoid was an epidural. Jennifer told us that if the epidural didn't work, we would need to discuss a c-section. I held back tears. I choked them down. I told Jennifer it was everything we did not want, which she already knew. Sick to my stomach to be going against all I had prepared to NOT have to succumb to, with my ever supporting husband holding my hand, we said we would do it.

Getting the epidural was the WORST. I HATED it. If it is in my power I will never get one again. I have never felt such a horrible sensation as the tube being pushed into my spine. When the anesthesiologist realized I felt more than I should be feeling, he gave me some more local anesthetic, but that didn't effect it much. I was shaking like crazy, holding onto Darin's waist and making some noises I hadn't even made during labor pains. The lack of sleep, combined with my grip on Darin and the noise I was making even made him woozy. It wasn't horribly painful. It was just horrible. I absolutely hate feeling like I don't have control of my body. I hated having to take Vicodin after having my wisdom teeth removed for that same reason. This was equally awful.

However, on the up side, I slept for a good hour and a half. I didn't feel a single contraction. I hated knowing that that was not how it was supposed to be, not for me, anyway. But I drifted rather quickly into a pain free nap.

1:30 PM. I was told that my contractions were strong during my nap. I hate that I had to be told that. Lisa showed up and brought food, balloons (the latex ones got tied to a chair in the lobby), and flowers. She did my hair as we waited for the midwife to come in and check my cervix again. I needed a quick makeover after the night I had. Thank you Li! Life is not so shabby having a hair stylist for a sister.

Jennifer came in. Cervix was checked. 1+. To be nice, she said we could call it a 2, but it really was just a 1+. Thanks Jennifer. I knew what was coming. We discussed a C-section. We agreed to speak with the surgeon. She came in and explained how my birth was going to take place. She motioned with her hand where the incision would be made and how I would feel pressure but no pain. I had accepted that this is the way things were going to be, which I am glad I was able to do, because I did feel excited to have my baby in my arms and to finally see her face.

Friday, December 31st, 1:40 PM: Lily Jane

From there, everything happened quickly. They wheeled me into the operating room, gave me more powerful meds to entirely numb me. They rolled me on to the operating table, painted my belly with what I guess was iodine, then they put up a sheet right in front of my face. I felt suddenly shut out from what was supposed to be my and Darin's very intimate experience.

1:49PM: I didn't even feel them make the incision when I heard "Oh she's cute!" My breath caught in my chest. I had a baby. I felt a little pressure as they tugged to get the rest of her out. I heard Darin crying and breathing heavily as he recorded the surgery over my head. Then a nurse brought our sweet Lily around to see us. She was amazing. I sobbed warm, sweet tears. I was overwhelmed. She was here! And she was ours. Once she was cleaned up and suctioned, they brought her over to me and held her by my face. I couldn't stop the tears of joy and wonder. I felt SO much love for that little girl, I nearly exploded. Darin and I stared at each other and at her and marveled. She was a miracle. And she had the most wonderful chubby cheeks!

Her first few weeks on this earth were filled with sweet moments when I wept out of amazement and indescribable joy (though I am sure hormones helped). I was a part of a miracle. A person who did not exist on this earth suddenly did because Darin and I participated in her creation. That is incredible. My knowledge and conviction that God has a very clear plan for us was strengthened and solidified once again. I spent and still spend a lot of time just staring at her. At one such time, when visiting my sister Jacqui, she asked :"Do you not just get the feeling that she is an old soul?" Yes, I do. I feel that although she is tiny and helpless and innocent, she is a strong, mature spirit who just left Heavenly Father's side to come to us. I felt that had I the chance to know her as she really is, I would know a valiant, confident, strong and beautiful woman. Lucky for me, there was a veil she passed through when she came to this earth, and I now have the opportunity to teach her and to raise her, but truth is to see things as they were, as they are, and as they will become. I know she will become that strong woman one day. I feel blessed to be able to see her become.

Now to finish the longest blogpost ever, here is our sweet, sweet Lily!