Happy Memorial Day.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Mamacita
Mama Crane, asleep sitting up, on my couch, with newborn Rowan...A few days after throwing a wedding, a week after cleaning, preparing, and transforming a totally annihilated house into something livable, and three weeks before her own dear mother passed away, who taught her how to serve and how to work as she does.
That baby in her arms is mine. See, when most new parents nearly die from exhaustion within the first weeks because their new baby is set on sleeping all day and partying all night, I have not. When I had Lily, my mom came and slept on the floor right next to Lily's crib. When I had Rowan she slept in our living room on a couch with jaundicey Rowan wiggling and fussing in his bili bed. I say she "slept", but that is not very accurate. When I have babies, my mother stays up with them all night long, rocking and swaddling and teaching them that night is when we sleep. She lets me and Darin sleep in another room and only wakes me to feed the baby. The following day, she is up when we are up (or earlier!), making meals and running errands and cleaning and entertaining a toddler, as if she had a full night's rest. Then at night, she does it again. This continues for as long as she stays with us. She makes us gourmet meals. She grocery shops and buys us deliciousness we wish we could keep in our pantry on a regular basis. She makes sure my toddler has an easy and loving transition into sisterhood and has special one-on-one time with her. She holds my hand when nursing Rowan hurts so bad I cry. She gives me confidence in my abilities as a mother, especially when I feel overwhelmed. As she stares at them, I know she is as in love with my babies very nearly as much as I am. And when she leaves, she cries.
She is fun and she is funny. She runs a family on tradition, hard work, laughter, and kindness. She is selfless and she is so, so brave. She serves without hesitation, and never expects recognition. She loves the Lord, she loves her husband, and she loves her family. She does what is right for the right reasons. She is a learner. She is a teacher. She is humble and she is hopeful. She seeks for light.
And man, do I love her!
Happy birthday to the best (no, really) mom ever!
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
I LOVE YOU!!!!!
After her nap, Lily sat at the kitchen counter with her blond hair piled in loose, sweat-and-pillow-induced curls, in front of a bowl of frozen blueberries and a dollop of plain greek yogurt, at her request. She found immense pleasure in dipping each blueberry in the sour white goodness. Every time she popped one in her mouth, her face would light up, as if surprised by the tart berries, tart yogurt, and numbing cold.
After eating about four or five, she stared into her bowl, slammed her palms on the counter and firmly and passionately yelled, "I LOVE YOU!"
No, she wasn't talking to me. The girl loves her blueberries and yogurt.
After eating about four or five, she stared into her bowl, slammed her palms on the counter and firmly and passionately yelled, "I LOVE YOU!"
No, she wasn't talking to me. The girl loves her blueberries and yogurt.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Scary
We had a little scare recently. No it wasn't the super dehydrated toddler suffering from a 6-day bout of stomach flu, though that was indeed quite scary. This was a scare of a different kind.
See, I have this summer nicely planned out. On the docket is going to Seven Peaks as often as possible and riding the slides, going to Lake Powell and actually being able to tube and wake board, and going with my husband, childless, to Denver, Colorado to become a certified Bradley birth educator. These are things I have been seriously looking forward to. Then once summer settles down, I plan on running my first marathon in St. George, Utah (yikes!).
This little scare would have changed my plans quite a bit.
Lately, I've been feeling pretty tired, kind of emotional, and crampy (TMI? sorry). And I am not entirely sure where Aunt Flow has gone off to, but she was expected five days ago (Oh, TMI again? Whoops). So yesterday, I was feeling a little nervous.
We have always been directed pretty specifically when our plans for childbearing needed to be tweaked. They have both times, by the way. We planned on getting pregnant with our first when I was finishing up grad school (haven't made it there yet...). Instead, we felt very strongly that we needed to try for a baby when getting pregnant meant a baby would be born right before the very last semester of my undergrad (that is exactly what happened. Because of class availability, it ended up taking me an entire year longer to graduate). With our second, we planned on waiting another 6 months or so before trying, but once again, felt very strongly that we needed to get to it right then. So we did. I graduated 5 months pregnant with #2. There are only 19 1/2 months between Lily and Rowan. That wasn't our plan, but it was God's.
I told Heavenly Father after being a sissified tweety bird over getting pregnant with Lily that I would never question Him again when he asked us to have a baby. With Rowan, it was earlier than we wanted, but we didn't question. We just moved forward with faith.
I have never wanted the circumstances around getting pregnant to be "oops", "oh crap!", or "please no". Because being pregnant is amazing and miraculous and beautiful and something I truly find immense joy in. But yesterday I found myself thinking Oh crap. I am not ready to be pregnant again. I really want more time between these two babies. I really want to love on Rowan a little more before I have to share that with another one. I really want to live out my summer NOT pregnant this year. I really want to run that marathon. I really want a getaway with my husband COMPLETELY childless. I really want to have my body back for just a little while longer.
And the thoughts went on and on...and on.
Darin and I had discussed previously, in theory, should we somehow get pregnant without planning on it, how it would not be the worst thing in the world, and how we've made it with two and we can make it with three, and how we wouldn't freak out. But I was kind of freaking out. I knew it was all for selfish reasons, too. I felt kind of bad about that. Kind of.
This morning I drove to Target, went down the personal items aisle, looked at the condoms, looked at the pregnancy tests, shook my head and grabbed a box of two "easy read" tests (Do they even come in singles anymore? Do they figure everyone doubts the first test?).
I came home and took the test. I felt the tension in my shoulders leave as I saw only one line filling the little bubble on that pee-soaked stick.
I wasn't pregnant.
The rest of the morning, I felt a little lighter. I went about getting a few things done. When I put the kids down for their naps, I took a few minutes to browse ye old facebook. I came across the status of a friend, one I am not super close to, but facebook has kept us connected. She was updating her friends about her and her husband's attempts to conceive through IVF. She told of how many of the embryos did not make it to the stage of being able to be implanted. Through a lot of money and heartache and hoping and praying and crying and solitude and maybe even begging, they had three shots, just three chances. They had one embryo placed. And it worked. They were ecstatic, I am sure. Friends and family rallied around them and rejoiced with them. After a few weeks, their doctors became worried. She was placed on bed rest. Not long after, they lost the baby. She told of this experience after having had some time to grieve, but she ended by saying that they knew that God had a plan for them. They knew that they would be parents and that they would not lose hope. They had faith in His plan.
I wanted to be able to wake board this summer.
Funny how things can be put into perspective. Funny how that often involves being supremely humbled.
I told Heavenly Father that I would never question Him again when He asked us to have another baby, but I purposefully left Him out of all my thoughts about why I didn't want one now.
If all it takes for me to have faith in His plan for my family is to enjoy making unprotected love to my husband, you'd think I could handle it. You think I could actually live up to what I promised him after getting pregnant with #1.
My goodness, life is a huge blessing. Creating life is a huge blessing.
Today, I am thankful for His patience with me. I am thankful for His sobering reminders of His merciful plan. Today, I am thankful to be reminded to pray more often:
help thou mine unbelief.
See, I have this summer nicely planned out. On the docket is going to Seven Peaks as often as possible and riding the slides, going to Lake Powell and actually being able to tube and wake board, and going with my husband, childless, to Denver, Colorado to become a certified Bradley birth educator. These are things I have been seriously looking forward to. Then once summer settles down, I plan on running my first marathon in St. George, Utah (yikes!).
This little scare would have changed my plans quite a bit.
Lately, I've been feeling pretty tired, kind of emotional, and crampy (TMI? sorry). And I am not entirely sure where Aunt Flow has gone off to, but she was expected five days ago (Oh, TMI again? Whoops). So yesterday, I was feeling a little nervous.
We have always been directed pretty specifically when our plans for childbearing needed to be tweaked. They have both times, by the way. We planned on getting pregnant with our first when I was finishing up grad school (haven't made it there yet...). Instead, we felt very strongly that we needed to try for a baby when getting pregnant meant a baby would be born right before the very last semester of my undergrad (that is exactly what happened. Because of class availability, it ended up taking me an entire year longer to graduate). With our second, we planned on waiting another 6 months or so before trying, but once again, felt very strongly that we needed to get to it right then. So we did. I graduated 5 months pregnant with #2. There are only 19 1/2 months between Lily and Rowan. That wasn't our plan, but it was God's.
I told Heavenly Father after being a sissified tweety bird over getting pregnant with Lily that I would never question Him again when he asked us to have a baby. With Rowan, it was earlier than we wanted, but we didn't question. We just moved forward with faith.
I have never wanted the circumstances around getting pregnant to be "oops", "oh crap!", or "please no". Because being pregnant is amazing and miraculous and beautiful and something I truly find immense joy in. But yesterday I found myself thinking Oh crap. I am not ready to be pregnant again. I really want more time between these two babies. I really want to love on Rowan a little more before I have to share that with another one. I really want to live out my summer NOT pregnant this year. I really want to run that marathon. I really want a getaway with my husband COMPLETELY childless. I really want to have my body back for just a little while longer.
And the thoughts went on and on...and on.
Darin and I had discussed previously, in theory, should we somehow get pregnant without planning on it, how it would not be the worst thing in the world, and how we've made it with two and we can make it with three, and how we wouldn't freak out. But I was kind of freaking out. I knew it was all for selfish reasons, too. I felt kind of bad about that. Kind of.
This morning I drove to Target, went down the personal items aisle, looked at the condoms, looked at the pregnancy tests, shook my head and grabbed a box of two "easy read" tests (Do they even come in singles anymore? Do they figure everyone doubts the first test?).
I came home and took the test. I felt the tension in my shoulders leave as I saw only one line filling the little bubble on that pee-soaked stick.
I wasn't pregnant.
The rest of the morning, I felt a little lighter. I went about getting a few things done. When I put the kids down for their naps, I took a few minutes to browse ye old facebook. I came across the status of a friend, one I am not super close to, but facebook has kept us connected. She was updating her friends about her and her husband's attempts to conceive through IVF. She told of how many of the embryos did not make it to the stage of being able to be implanted. Through a lot of money and heartache and hoping and praying and crying and solitude and maybe even begging, they had three shots, just three chances. They had one embryo placed. And it worked. They were ecstatic, I am sure. Friends and family rallied around them and rejoiced with them. After a few weeks, their doctors became worried. She was placed on bed rest. Not long after, they lost the baby. She told of this experience after having had some time to grieve, but she ended by saying that they knew that God had a plan for them. They knew that they would be parents and that they would not lose hope. They had faith in His plan.
I wanted to be able to wake board this summer.
Funny how things can be put into perspective. Funny how that often involves being supremely humbled.
I told Heavenly Father that I would never question Him again when He asked us to have another baby, but I purposefully left Him out of all my thoughts about why I didn't want one now.
If all it takes for me to have faith in His plan for my family is to enjoy making unprotected love to my husband, you'd think I could handle it. You think I could actually live up to what I promised him after getting pregnant with #1.
My goodness, life is a huge blessing. Creating life is a huge blessing.
Today, I am thankful for His patience with me. I am thankful for His sobering reminders of His merciful plan. Today, I am thankful to be reminded to pray more often:
help thou mine unbelief.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Strawberry Jam and a Girlfriend
Me and my girlfriend, Lil, made some strawberry freezer jam last Saturday morning. We woke up, sent Lil's daddy boy off to work, and got to mashin'.
At first, Lily was quite upset that we were mashing the strawberries. Perhaps the thought of pulverizing something so perfect as a red, ripe strawberry was a little horrifying to her. But I think the lure of messy destruction won out in the end.
There were many strawberries that never made it to the jam state.
Mouth full of strawberry.
Today she kissed me on both cheeks, then smiled this very smile and said "I so cute!"
I'd have to agree.
I am so in love with this little girl.
When you give a husband some kids...
When you give a husband some kids while you go running, you'll probably come home to this:
Rowy lost his mustache due to over-slobbering.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
"I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears: behold, I will heal thee." -2 Kings 20:5
I have been excited and intimidated to write about this experience. As I sit here, my heart is so very full. I am in awe and overwhelmed with gratitude that I get to write about what I get to write about today. A miraculous event took place in our lives on Friday, August 24th, 2012. We brought another life into this world. Rowan Asher Brooks was born. His birth was beautiful for so many reasons. Obviously, the act of bringing a child into this world in and of itself is incredible. Being able to get pregnant and carry a child, complication-free, for 9 months is miraculous. I am so thankful that my body is able to do that. This pregnancy, however, was accompanied by quite a bit of anxiety over my body's ability to bring this baby into the world the way I hoped and prayed and dreamed for. For whatever reason, the Lord saw fit to allow my dreams to come true. For me, the birth of Rowan was an immensely spiritual event, one that filled me with sweet healing.
My first attempt at labor with Miss Lily Jane was traumatic and left me disappointed and confused. It left a gaping hole of uncertainty about what I felt my body was made to do and evidently couldn't. I was told after hours of labor and no dilation and an eventual c-section that I would probably never be able to VBAC. Honestly, when my surgeon told me that, I was angry at her more than at her words. I felt that she was attempting to limit my potential abilities and smother my dreams and I felt she had no right to stick her nose into my future and try to dirty it. Unfortunately, she did succeed in planting some doubt in my mind. Fortunately, however, I already knew that there was no way I wouldn't be trying again for a natural vaginal delivery with our next one, regardless of what anyone said, and yes, even regardless of whether or not that someone happened to get a better look at my pelvis than I have ever had.
With Lisa's wedding coming up (scheduled for 6 days after my due date), and school starting a week after I was due, we were in a hurry to meet this little boy. We went on nightly walks, most of the time incorporating plenty of curb-walking (one foot on the curb, one foot off...not comfortable, fyi). I was taking evening primrose oil and red raspberry leaf tea. We even went on some rigorous hikes up Rock Canyon. Before one such hike the day after my due date, my mucus plug fell out in the lovely public restroom at the foot of the trail. I sure didn't care where it was at the point. I was just excited that something was happening, even if I knew it could be days before the actual event. Turns out, it was several days before labor started. He came 6 days after, actually. It was a long week of anticipation. But unlike my first pregnancy, labor did start!
At 2 AM on Thursday, August 23rd, I woke up to a mild contraction. This was not a big deal, seeing as how I had been experiencing irregular contractions for the previous 3 weeks. When I woke up every 10 minutes to another, it still didn't get me excited. This little man had been all about false starts, so I just tried to get some sleep. I was coming up on 41 weeks, and I was fairly certain he was making camp in there. Darin joked that by the time he decided to come he would be ready for solids, or Darin would have to teach him to shave already. We were a bit impatient. When I woke up in the morning, Darin and I decided to go take a walk with Lily and see if the contractions would get any stronger. We walked north and took a loop around the lovely path next to the creek at the south end of campus. It was nice to be out and distracted more than anything. Contractions stayed 10 minutes apart, but were very mild, and I still wasn't thinking anything of them yet. We came home and decided to go grab some lunch. We went to Terzi's (a new pizza place close to campus). When we walked in to order, I felt like I was peeing my pants, only I couldn't control it. I went to the bathroom, and realized I was only slightly wet. I didn't really think it could be my water breaking, but it became evident over the next 20 minutes that my water bag had indeed ruptured. When I stood up after eating, I asked Darin if you could tell I was wet from behind. He looked and said "no.....YES." As he was looking, I started leaking a goooood amount. What a weird feeling. There was no stopping it. When we got to the car, my pants were soaked. All we had were a few extra diapers of Lil's in the trunk. We opened them up and placed them in my seat and headed home. Finally we knew labor was starting!
Darin and I put Lily down for her nap and tried to get a nap of our own. After a little sleep, I awoke to some harder contractions. They were getting more intense, but I could easily breath through them. Lisa was going to be getting married that weekend, and we had planned a little bachelorette party/baby shower with the girls in my family for that night. We were going to go up to Jacqui's house in Sandy, but that plan was obviously scratched. Since labor was still in its early stages and I could easily cope with my contractions, my lovely sisters, sisters-in-law, and mom came to us to have the baby shower :) Love those ladies. I opened presents and paused every now and then to breath through a contraction. We chatted, ate creamies, and had a good time. It was quite obvious at this point that Darin and I would not get to participate in any of the wedding festivities, nor would I be able to be with Lisa when she and her now husband, Jesus, went through the temple for the first time the following day. For that reason, it meant the world that these girls went out of the way to bring the party to us. Li and I were able to have a good heart-to-heart and share some sisterly love wishing each other luck for the major life events we were both on the verge of experiencing. It was good to have that time.The party ended, though, when contractions were getting stronger and requiring more of my focus.
Darin's mom arrived not long after. Since my whole family would be wrapped up in wedding stuff, Lynn was able to come and stay with Lily. I am so thankful she was there and Lily was able to spend time with someone she loves so much. As we packed up our things for the hospital, I started to have to stop everything I was doing for each contraction. I typically fell to my knees on the floor, leaned over the couch or buried my face in our bed as I tried to relax until they passed. They were about 4 minutes apart. And even though they were getting stronger and more painful, I was still so excited that labor started in the first place and was actually happening! I never really had that with Lily. I never really went through the whole laboring process with her. In a lot of ways, this felt like my first baby. I had never experienced all of these things. I never had to handle contractions like these. With Lily, I had really bad back labor, which was not the case for Rowan, so that too, was very different. So when I was trying to figure out when to go to the hospital, I had a hard time judging when to go in. Our friend and neighbor, Dallan came over to help Darin give me a priesthood blessing. It was a very sweet blessing that calmed me and gave me needed confidence. Darin blessed me that I would have the strength and peace that I needed and that I would be able to have the natural, vaginal delivery that I had prayed for. I felt strong and very excited to bring our little boy into the world. At about 10 PM, we got in the car and headed to the hospital.
The car ride was very uncomfortable. The drive was about 25 minutes up to American Fork Hospital. Contractions had been 4 minutes apart at home. In the car they began to be 3 minutes and then 2 minutes apart. I was shaking like crazy. Darin thought this was a sign of transition and started to get nervous that I was going to have the baby in the car. I knew that there was no way I was in transition. It couldn't be that easy. And it wasn't. We realized pulling in to the hospital that we had no idea where labor and delivery was. It also was not marked on any of the signs we saw. Haha. We were super prepared. It's a good thing I wasn't in transition, because after circling the parking lot several times and being completely lost, we sure could have had a car delivery had that been the case. Finally, someone in scrubs came out of the emergency entrance and asked what we needed. I was breathing through a contraction. She was at my window. Darin said labor and delivery and she went running for a wheel chair like my life depended on it. I told her that there was no rush, I was not having this baby in the car. A security guard must have felt left out, as he moseyed over to see what all the hullabaloo was about. He wisely explained that they like babies born in the hospital better than in the parking lot. So I let the frantic employee in scrubs wheel me in in a very dramatic rush. She got me in the elevator and seemed to be nervously asking me questions to check that I was still conscious or something. I found out that she was a house keeper. I had to smile and let her revel in the drama of rushing a laboring woman in a wheel chair up to labor and delivery. It had to have been exciting for her.
Of course, once I got to triage, my contractions started to slow and space out again. Darin came up from parking the car, and our friend and Bradley birth instructor, Katie Aston, arrived a few minutes later. She offered to attend our birth as a doula. I cannot express how thankful I was to have her there for the entire labor and delivery of Rowan. I just fell in love with her! She was an absolute angel. She stayed up all night and didn't rest for a moment. She was entirely devoted to making me comfortable and helping me relax and she worked hard the entire time I worked hard. The first thing I would suggest for those wanting a natural birth is to educate yourself as much as possible (Know your options. Understand common procedures. READ. Do your research. Do practices. Be prepared). The second thing I would recommend is hiring a doula. Darin and I had planned to have it be just the two of us. We felt prepared and we wanted an intimate experience. But I had read too much on doulas and the positive outcomes as far as fewer c-sections and fewer interventions, in general. So when Katie offered, we whole-heartedly agreed it was what we wanted. How very, very grateful I am that we had her.
I worked through a few contractions kneeling on the hospital bed and leaning over the back of it in the upright position. It was a good position for me. I was checked and was super bummed to hear I was only at 3 1/2 centimeters. I totally jumped the gun, especially since contractions had spaced out since the car ride. They were now about 4-5 minutes apart.
When we got to our room and immediately I was hooked up in all sorts of ways. When trying for a VBAC, the hospital requires you to have continuous fetal monitoring as well as an IV port in and ready for any fluids they think you'll need. My contractions were measured by a probe they stuck up my vagina. And not long after getting settled, they gave me an IV with some sweet stuff to get more of a response from Rowan. Being hooked up to all sorts of wires and tubes was SO uncomfortable. It really made me wish I had not come in to the hospital so soon. As labor progressed, I just tried to forget about it and focus on what my body was doing.
My body was working. I am so glad it was! It felt so different from Lily's labor. Just getting to this point in labor eliminated some anxiety. I was able to focus and relax and not think about the possibility of a repeat C-section because this was REAL LABOR! So I was a little confused when my midwife suggested giving me pitocin. She was the one who, during our prenatal checkup, told me that they would do everything to avoid intervention. She tried to explain, using charts that I didn't know how to read and didn't know the meaning of, that my contractions needed to be at a certain line or level and Rowan needed to be exhibiting this pattern in his heart rate, and here is the doctor who is on site in case you need to have a C-section, and we don't want that so we need to be at this point just so later on we don't have to intervene more. I asked to try other methods first. We did some nipple stimulation, rocking back and forth in semi-squats, using essential oils, just letting some time pass. I felt like I was laboring just fine and it is a little hazy now when I try to think of why that apparently wasn't enough. I was given the lowest dosage of pitocin. If there is ever a situation where a woman is most vulnerable it is when she is in labor. I felt scared by the possibility of another C-section, so I ultimately agreed to an intervention I was totally opposed to. It is the only regret I have. And I honestly couldn't tell the difference with pitocin and without. Contractions are intense and powerful. It took a lot of work either way to relax through them. After a while, we ended up unplugging the pit and not turning it back on. My body knew what to do anyway.
The rest of the night was very hazy to me. I started to make a little noise during contractions. When I felt one coming on, I made a low moaning sound. Eventually it became what I naturally did every time and it became my method of coping. When I started moaning ( or "singing", as Katie called it :), I thought of nothing else. I went to this place where I saw nothing and felt nothing and the only thing I was experiencing was the sound of my voice which really didn't sound like my voice at all, but more like something coming from outside of me. It was really trippy. I have heard that the body comes up with its own drugs during labor, and now I can see where they get that. It was so bizarre. I was very unaware of things that were happening around me. I kept my eyes closed most of the time. I lost myself in each contraction and came back when it was over. I had Katie and Darin reminding me to keep my voice low, to release the tension in my hands, forehead, shoulders, etc. They massaged me and gave counter pressure. They wiped me with cool wash cloths and fanned me. They gave me something to drink as often as I requested it (I was parched the entire time). They were at the ready with barf bags which I used several times. (Thankfully, I have managed to still enjoy my favorite oatmeal cookies I happened to throw up the whole time. So glad I didn't get turned off to those; it would have been a real shame). I changed positions several times. I tried sitting on the birthing ball, but didn't hang out there for long, as it felt unstable. I knelt on my bed, sat in the rocking chair, but did not enjoy rocking, worked through some contractions in the bathroom. One of my favorite places was surprisingly leading over the bathroom sink. Letting the water run over my hands was very relaxing to me. It makes me think that I would really love a waterbirth.
The night was long. I welcomed the work, even though it was so taxing. I knew I could do hard things. I knew I could do this hard thing even though contractions were startlingly more powerful than I had ever imagined. At one point in the evening, though, I felt exhausted and drained. I felt I had lost some of my focus from why I was doing this work and instead was simply focusing on doing the work. When I stopped thinking about meeting Rowan and doing this so that he and I could be safe together and feel the power of the most beautiful and natural process in the world, I faltered. I uttered one of a thousands prayers and begged for strength. I was feeling discouraged that I had plateaued (totally normal) and it was taking so long to dilate a single centimeter (going from a 5 to a 6 was excruciatingly long). In the middle of feeling tired and distracted, and discouraged, a song came on pandora that seemed to stop time. After being home from the hospital, I religiously listed to the same station that I birthed to just to be able to find it again. It's called "In Reverence" by David Tolk, a very fitting name for what happened to me when it played in my dimmed hospital room in the middle of a sorrowfully sweet night. (For your listening pleasure, here it is, with some lovely scenery to boot.)
When I heard it, it is hard to explain the beauty that unfolded. I opened my eyes and looked out the window at the deep blue of the night sky with its stars and moon and magical summer warmth. My hospital room became a sanctuary. No one knew what was happening but me, and I hoped, Rowan. I closed my eyes again and I felt so close to heaven. I felt that the only division between me and Heaven was merely my inability to see it. I could almost feel my sweet baby boy in my arms. In my mind, I saw him being placed on my chest. I felt his weight and his warmth and I felt my sweet tears of joy at his arrival. It was a sacred moment. I believe it was an answer to my prayers for strength. I was given that little glimpse as a heavenly gift. From that moment on, I felt empowered. I felt like I could and that I had to get him here. I have never fought so hard for another's life. I suddenly felt the depth of my understanding of the atonement of Jesus Christ expand. He sweat and he bled and he struggled for our lives on a scale much much much greater than what I was experiencing, and I was experiencing the most intense and most painful sensations of my life. With every contraction, I wondered if I could do another. I have never been pushed to my limit like that. It made me feel so much closer to my Savior, and so much more confident to call on Him for help. This was the hardest work I had ever done. Beyond a doubt, I was made more than I am to be able to accomplish it.
After mis pilas se cargaron, I felt I had reached a state of deep relaxation. I didn't open my eyes for hours, and was completely still between contractions, only escaping into the sound of my moaning when another one came. I remember opening my eyes once and noticing a pale light in the room. The next time I opened my eyes it was morning. Katie smiled and told me I had made it through the night. I had labored all night long. Something about being in the light of day seemed to make things speed up. I couldn't actually say when I hit transition. It just happened without my noticing and I had to change positions and moan deeper and louder than I had before and fight against everything in me just to relax through the crashing waves of my hard-working uterus. Another midwife, Erica came as the shift ended and was fabulous at observing how I was handling things and letting me continue doing what I was doing. At one point I was feeling pushy, which I eloquently expressed as feeling like I needed to poop. I was checked on my knees, leaning over the back of up-right hospital bed by a nurse who said I was at a 7 1/2. What?! I wanted to push, but knew I didn't want my cervix to swell, so I just took out all that pent up pushing urge through moans that made me sound more like an orc than a human. Truly, it was a little scary. I made it through those last few centimeters somehow and was surprised when I was told I could push.
I finally had the go-ahead. I was suddenly very alert, but also very tired and once I tired pushing, I wasn't sure I really knew how to do it. I kept asking Katie and Erica if I was doing it right. I pushed on my knees leaning over the bed for a while. Then I pushed on my hands and knees for a while. Feeling that baby descend was bizarre and amazing, and very slow. But the pressure I felt before I reached a 10 was alleviated and replaced by an entirely different pressure much lower. Contractions were welcomed at this point. It felt good to push through them, and after 33 hours of labor, I was excited to be doing something other than relaxing. I eventually moved into a side-lying position. When I felt like my pushes were ineffective, I asked the midwife if maybe I could push in a squatting position and let gravity help out a little more. She suggested I was too tired and should continue with the side-lying. She was probably right about me being too tired, which is why I didn't push for it (ha....pun intended), but I had really wanted to try squatting, so I was a little bummed I didn't just do it.
That little guy was crowning for.ev.er. Boy howdy, did I feel that ring of fire, so aptly named. I was feeling like a whole lot of pushing (1 hr. 45 min, nothing out of the norm) was getting me a whole lot of nowhere. And then Darin told me to reach down and touch his head. He was right there, so close! And he had hair. It was as good an energy boost as any. I just wanted him here. I had made it so far and it was almost over. I was suddenly very impatient, which I'm sure caused my three tears. I heard Erica say "I love her determination". I was feeling like this had to end, and with one screaming push, I felt his head come out. A few pushes later, his body slipped out fairly easily. And suddenly he was on my chest and he was breathing and he was warm and he was mine. I was overwhelmed and great sobs of relief and incandescent joy escaped me.
The flood of emotions and love (and yes, hormones) was incredible! I felt so thankful for Erica and her quiet encouragement, for Katie and her selfless, sleepless, peaceful presence. Most of all, I was so thankful for Darin and the ability he has always had to make me feel safe and beautiful when I am most vulnerable and discouraged. A number of times during the labor he looked into my eyes and told me that I was made to do this, something that penetrated so deeply and gave me courage, especially when I had battled doubts about that very thing since Lily's birth. He has always made me feel strong, especially when I feel so small.
Rowan was weighed and measured: 8 pounds, 10 ounces, and 20 inches long. I looked over at him and it hit me, and the tears started again as I exclaimed, "I had a VBAC!" Erica and Katie laughed and said, "yes, you did". I felt incredible. The difference between me being left to shiver alone and shift in and our of consciousness after Lily's birth as compared to the love, support, and unexpected vitality I felt after Rowan was staggering. What an incredible experience!
And now that I know I can do it, our next one will be born at home. Call me crazy, but I can't wait.
My first attempt at labor with Miss Lily Jane was traumatic and left me disappointed and confused. It left a gaping hole of uncertainty about what I felt my body was made to do and evidently couldn't. I was told after hours of labor and no dilation and an eventual c-section that I would probably never be able to VBAC. Honestly, when my surgeon told me that, I was angry at her more than at her words. I felt that she was attempting to limit my potential abilities and smother my dreams and I felt she had no right to stick her nose into my future and try to dirty it. Unfortunately, she did succeed in planting some doubt in my mind. Fortunately, however, I already knew that there was no way I wouldn't be trying again for a natural vaginal delivery with our next one, regardless of what anyone said, and yes, even regardless of whether or not that someone happened to get a better look at my pelvis than I have ever had.
With Lisa's wedding coming up (scheduled for 6 days after my due date), and school starting a week after I was due, we were in a hurry to meet this little boy. We went on nightly walks, most of the time incorporating plenty of curb-walking (one foot on the curb, one foot off...not comfortable, fyi). I was taking evening primrose oil and red raspberry leaf tea. We even went on some rigorous hikes up Rock Canyon. Before one such hike the day after my due date, my mucus plug fell out in the lovely public restroom at the foot of the trail. I sure didn't care where it was at the point. I was just excited that something was happening, even if I knew it could be days before the actual event. Turns out, it was several days before labor started. He came 6 days after, actually. It was a long week of anticipation. But unlike my first pregnancy, labor did start!
And here I am VERY pregnant few days before labor with Lisa,
my rock star niece, my wonderful mama and my Lil.
At 2 AM on Thursday, August 23rd, I woke up to a mild contraction. This was not a big deal, seeing as how I had been experiencing irregular contractions for the previous 3 weeks. When I woke up every 10 minutes to another, it still didn't get me excited. This little man had been all about false starts, so I just tried to get some sleep. I was coming up on 41 weeks, and I was fairly certain he was making camp in there. Darin joked that by the time he decided to come he would be ready for solids, or Darin would have to teach him to shave already. We were a bit impatient. When I woke up in the morning, Darin and I decided to go take a walk with Lily and see if the contractions would get any stronger. We walked north and took a loop around the lovely path next to the creek at the south end of campus. It was nice to be out and distracted more than anything. Contractions stayed 10 minutes apart, but were very mild, and I still wasn't thinking anything of them yet. We came home and decided to go grab some lunch. We went to Terzi's (a new pizza place close to campus). When we walked in to order, I felt like I was peeing my pants, only I couldn't control it. I went to the bathroom, and realized I was only slightly wet. I didn't really think it could be my water breaking, but it became evident over the next 20 minutes that my water bag had indeed ruptured. When I stood up after eating, I asked Darin if you could tell I was wet from behind. He looked and said "no.....YES." As he was looking, I started leaking a goooood amount. What a weird feeling. There was no stopping it. When we got to the car, my pants were soaked. All we had were a few extra diapers of Lil's in the trunk. We opened them up and placed them in my seat and headed home. Finally we knew labor was starting!
Darin and I put Lily down for her nap and tried to get a nap of our own. After a little sleep, I awoke to some harder contractions. They were getting more intense, but I could easily breath through them. Lisa was going to be getting married that weekend, and we had planned a little bachelorette party/baby shower with the girls in my family for that night. We were going to go up to Jacqui's house in Sandy, but that plan was obviously scratched. Since labor was still in its early stages and I could easily cope with my contractions, my lovely sisters, sisters-in-law, and mom came to us to have the baby shower :) Love those ladies. I opened presents and paused every now and then to breath through a contraction. We chatted, ate creamies, and had a good time. It was quite obvious at this point that Darin and I would not get to participate in any of the wedding festivities, nor would I be able to be with Lisa when she and her now husband, Jesus, went through the temple for the first time the following day. For that reason, it meant the world that these girls went out of the way to bring the party to us. Li and I were able to have a good heart-to-heart and share some sisterly love wishing each other luck for the major life events we were both on the verge of experiencing. It was good to have that time.The party ended, though, when contractions were getting stronger and requiring more of my focus.
At the impromptu baby shower and in labor!
Darin's mom arrived not long after. Since my whole family would be wrapped up in wedding stuff, Lynn was able to come and stay with Lily. I am so thankful she was there and Lily was able to spend time with someone she loves so much. As we packed up our things for the hospital, I started to have to stop everything I was doing for each contraction. I typically fell to my knees on the floor, leaned over the couch or buried my face in our bed as I tried to relax until they passed. They were about 4 minutes apart. And even though they were getting stronger and more painful, I was still so excited that labor started in the first place and was actually happening! I never really had that with Lily. I never really went through the whole laboring process with her. In a lot of ways, this felt like my first baby. I had never experienced all of these things. I never had to handle contractions like these. With Lily, I had really bad back labor, which was not the case for Rowan, so that too, was very different. So when I was trying to figure out when to go to the hospital, I had a hard time judging when to go in. Our friend and neighbor, Dallan came over to help Darin give me a priesthood blessing. It was a very sweet blessing that calmed me and gave me needed confidence. Darin blessed me that I would have the strength and peace that I needed and that I would be able to have the natural, vaginal delivery that I had prayed for. I felt strong and very excited to bring our little boy into the world. At about 10 PM, we got in the car and headed to the hospital.
The car ride was very uncomfortable. The drive was about 25 minutes up to American Fork Hospital. Contractions had been 4 minutes apart at home. In the car they began to be 3 minutes and then 2 minutes apart. I was shaking like crazy. Darin thought this was a sign of transition and started to get nervous that I was going to have the baby in the car. I knew that there was no way I was in transition. It couldn't be that easy. And it wasn't. We realized pulling in to the hospital that we had no idea where labor and delivery was. It also was not marked on any of the signs we saw. Haha. We were super prepared. It's a good thing I wasn't in transition, because after circling the parking lot several times and being completely lost, we sure could have had a car delivery had that been the case. Finally, someone in scrubs came out of the emergency entrance and asked what we needed. I was breathing through a contraction. She was at my window. Darin said labor and delivery and she went running for a wheel chair like my life depended on it. I told her that there was no rush, I was not having this baby in the car. A security guard must have felt left out, as he moseyed over to see what all the hullabaloo was about. He wisely explained that they like babies born in the hospital better than in the parking lot. So I let the frantic employee in scrubs wheel me in in a very dramatic rush. She got me in the elevator and seemed to be nervously asking me questions to check that I was still conscious or something. I found out that she was a house keeper. I had to smile and let her revel in the drama of rushing a laboring woman in a wheel chair up to labor and delivery. It had to have been exciting for her.
Of course, once I got to triage, my contractions started to slow and space out again. Darin came up from parking the car, and our friend and Bradley birth instructor, Katie Aston, arrived a few minutes later. She offered to attend our birth as a doula. I cannot express how thankful I was to have her there for the entire labor and delivery of Rowan. I just fell in love with her! She was an absolute angel. She stayed up all night and didn't rest for a moment. She was entirely devoted to making me comfortable and helping me relax and she worked hard the entire time I worked hard. The first thing I would suggest for those wanting a natural birth is to educate yourself as much as possible (Know your options. Understand common procedures. READ. Do your research. Do practices. Be prepared). The second thing I would recommend is hiring a doula. Darin and I had planned to have it be just the two of us. We felt prepared and we wanted an intimate experience. But I had read too much on doulas and the positive outcomes as far as fewer c-sections and fewer interventions, in general. So when Katie offered, we whole-heartedly agreed it was what we wanted. How very, very grateful I am that we had her.
I worked through a few contractions kneeling on the hospital bed and leaning over the back of it in the upright position. It was a good position for me. I was checked and was super bummed to hear I was only at 3 1/2 centimeters. I totally jumped the gun, especially since contractions had spaced out since the car ride. They were now about 4-5 minutes apart.
When we got to our room and immediately I was hooked up in all sorts of ways. When trying for a VBAC, the hospital requires you to have continuous fetal monitoring as well as an IV port in and ready for any fluids they think you'll need. My contractions were measured by a probe they stuck up my vagina. And not long after getting settled, they gave me an IV with some sweet stuff to get more of a response from Rowan. Being hooked up to all sorts of wires and tubes was SO uncomfortable. It really made me wish I had not come in to the hospital so soon. As labor progressed, I just tried to forget about it and focus on what my body was doing.
My body was working. I am so glad it was! It felt so different from Lily's labor. Just getting to this point in labor eliminated some anxiety. I was able to focus and relax and not think about the possibility of a repeat C-section because this was REAL LABOR! So I was a little confused when my midwife suggested giving me pitocin. She was the one who, during our prenatal checkup, told me that they would do everything to avoid intervention. She tried to explain, using charts that I didn't know how to read and didn't know the meaning of, that my contractions needed to be at a certain line or level and Rowan needed to be exhibiting this pattern in his heart rate, and here is the doctor who is on site in case you need to have a C-section, and we don't want that so we need to be at this point just so later on we don't have to intervene more. I asked to try other methods first. We did some nipple stimulation, rocking back and forth in semi-squats, using essential oils, just letting some time pass. I felt like I was laboring just fine and it is a little hazy now when I try to think of why that apparently wasn't enough. I was given the lowest dosage of pitocin. If there is ever a situation where a woman is most vulnerable it is when she is in labor. I felt scared by the possibility of another C-section, so I ultimately agreed to an intervention I was totally opposed to. It is the only regret I have. And I honestly couldn't tell the difference with pitocin and without. Contractions are intense and powerful. It took a lot of work either way to relax through them. After a while, we ended up unplugging the pit and not turning it back on. My body knew what to do anyway.
The rest of the night was very hazy to me. I started to make a little noise during contractions. When I felt one coming on, I made a low moaning sound. Eventually it became what I naturally did every time and it became my method of coping. When I started moaning ( or "singing", as Katie called it :), I thought of nothing else. I went to this place where I saw nothing and felt nothing and the only thing I was experiencing was the sound of my voice which really didn't sound like my voice at all, but more like something coming from outside of me. It was really trippy. I have heard that the body comes up with its own drugs during labor, and now I can see where they get that. It was so bizarre. I was very unaware of things that were happening around me. I kept my eyes closed most of the time. I lost myself in each contraction and came back when it was over. I had Katie and Darin reminding me to keep my voice low, to release the tension in my hands, forehead, shoulders, etc. They massaged me and gave counter pressure. They wiped me with cool wash cloths and fanned me. They gave me something to drink as often as I requested it (I was parched the entire time). They were at the ready with barf bags which I used several times. (Thankfully, I have managed to still enjoy my favorite oatmeal cookies I happened to throw up the whole time. So glad I didn't get turned off to those; it would have been a real shame). I changed positions several times. I tried sitting on the birthing ball, but didn't hang out there for long, as it felt unstable. I knelt on my bed, sat in the rocking chair, but did not enjoy rocking, worked through some contractions in the bathroom. One of my favorite places was surprisingly leading over the bathroom sink. Letting the water run over my hands was very relaxing to me. It makes me think that I would really love a waterbirth.
The night was long. I welcomed the work, even though it was so taxing. I knew I could do hard things. I knew I could do this hard thing even though contractions were startlingly more powerful than I had ever imagined. At one point in the evening, though, I felt exhausted and drained. I felt I had lost some of my focus from why I was doing this work and instead was simply focusing on doing the work. When I stopped thinking about meeting Rowan and doing this so that he and I could be safe together and feel the power of the most beautiful and natural process in the world, I faltered. I uttered one of a thousands prayers and begged for strength. I was feeling discouraged that I had plateaued (totally normal) and it was taking so long to dilate a single centimeter (going from a 5 to a 6 was excruciatingly long). In the middle of feeling tired and distracted, and discouraged, a song came on pandora that seemed to stop time. After being home from the hospital, I religiously listed to the same station that I birthed to just to be able to find it again. It's called "In Reverence" by David Tolk, a very fitting name for what happened to me when it played in my dimmed hospital room in the middle of a sorrowfully sweet night. (For your listening pleasure, here it is, with some lovely scenery to boot.)
When I heard it, it is hard to explain the beauty that unfolded. I opened my eyes and looked out the window at the deep blue of the night sky with its stars and moon and magical summer warmth. My hospital room became a sanctuary. No one knew what was happening but me, and I hoped, Rowan. I closed my eyes again and I felt so close to heaven. I felt that the only division between me and Heaven was merely my inability to see it. I could almost feel my sweet baby boy in my arms. In my mind, I saw him being placed on my chest. I felt his weight and his warmth and I felt my sweet tears of joy at his arrival. It was a sacred moment. I believe it was an answer to my prayers for strength. I was given that little glimpse as a heavenly gift. From that moment on, I felt empowered. I felt like I could and that I had to get him here. I have never fought so hard for another's life. I suddenly felt the depth of my understanding of the atonement of Jesus Christ expand. He sweat and he bled and he struggled for our lives on a scale much much much greater than what I was experiencing, and I was experiencing the most intense and most painful sensations of my life. With every contraction, I wondered if I could do another. I have never been pushed to my limit like that. It made me feel so much closer to my Savior, and so much more confident to call on Him for help. This was the hardest work I had ever done. Beyond a doubt, I was made more than I am to be able to accomplish it.
After mis pilas se cargaron, I felt I had reached a state of deep relaxation. I didn't open my eyes for hours, and was completely still between contractions, only escaping into the sound of my moaning when another one came. I remember opening my eyes once and noticing a pale light in the room. The next time I opened my eyes it was morning. Katie smiled and told me I had made it through the night. I had labored all night long. Something about being in the light of day seemed to make things speed up. I couldn't actually say when I hit transition. It just happened without my noticing and I had to change positions and moan deeper and louder than I had before and fight against everything in me just to relax through the crashing waves of my hard-working uterus. Another midwife, Erica came as the shift ended and was fabulous at observing how I was handling things and letting me continue doing what I was doing. At one point I was feeling pushy, which I eloquently expressed as feeling like I needed to poop. I was checked on my knees, leaning over the back of up-right hospital bed by a nurse who said I was at a 7 1/2. What?! I wanted to push, but knew I didn't want my cervix to swell, so I just took out all that pent up pushing urge through moans that made me sound more like an orc than a human. Truly, it was a little scary. I made it through those last few centimeters somehow and was surprised when I was told I could push.
I finally had the go-ahead. I was suddenly very alert, but also very tired and once I tired pushing, I wasn't sure I really knew how to do it. I kept asking Katie and Erica if I was doing it right. I pushed on my knees leaning over the bed for a while. Then I pushed on my hands and knees for a while. Feeling that baby descend was bizarre and amazing, and very slow. But the pressure I felt before I reached a 10 was alleviated and replaced by an entirely different pressure much lower. Contractions were welcomed at this point. It felt good to push through them, and after 33 hours of labor, I was excited to be doing something other than relaxing. I eventually moved into a side-lying position. When I felt like my pushes were ineffective, I asked the midwife if maybe I could push in a squatting position and let gravity help out a little more. She suggested I was too tired and should continue with the side-lying. She was probably right about me being too tired, which is why I didn't push for it (ha....pun intended), but I had really wanted to try squatting, so I was a little bummed I didn't just do it.
That little guy was crowning for.ev.er. Boy howdy, did I feel that ring of fire, so aptly named. I was feeling like a whole lot of pushing (1 hr. 45 min, nothing out of the norm) was getting me a whole lot of nowhere. And then Darin told me to reach down and touch his head. He was right there, so close! And he had hair. It was as good an energy boost as any. I just wanted him here. I had made it so far and it was almost over. I was suddenly very impatient, which I'm sure caused my three tears. I heard Erica say "I love her determination". I was feeling like this had to end, and with one screaming push, I felt his head come out. A few pushes later, his body slipped out fairly easily. And suddenly he was on my chest and he was breathing and he was warm and he was mine. I was overwhelmed and great sobs of relief and incandescent joy escaped me.
Do not be deceived. This was after a shower.
Let's just say I am not one of those mamas who looks
Like she went for a light jog and ended up with a baby.
The flood of emotions and love (and yes, hormones) was incredible! I felt so thankful for Erica and her quiet encouragement, for Katie and her selfless, sleepless, peaceful presence. Most of all, I was so thankful for Darin and the ability he has always had to make me feel safe and beautiful when I am most vulnerable and discouraged. A number of times during the labor he looked into my eyes and told me that I was made to do this, something that penetrated so deeply and gave me courage, especially when I had battled doubts about that very thing since Lily's birth. He has always made me feel strong, especially when I feel so small.
Rowan was weighed and measured: 8 pounds, 10 ounces, and 20 inches long. I looked over at him and it hit me, and the tears started again as I exclaimed, "I had a VBAC!" Erica and Katie laughed and said, "yes, you did". I felt incredible. The difference between me being left to shiver alone and shift in and our of consciousness after Lily's birth as compared to the love, support, and unexpected vitality I felt after Rowan was staggering. What an incredible experience!
And now that I know I can do it, our next one will be born at home. Call me crazy, but I can't wait.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Write
I used to write. I used to write often. I loved it. I loved being able to put the wonder of the world around me into words that laughed and mourned and danced on my pages. I'm not sure what happened or when. I kind of stopped. I pretty much stopped all together. In fact, I haven't even written in my own journal for months now. I haven't been a consistent journal writer for years, but over the summer, when my belly was round and taut and full of anticipation and when my little girl and her daddy were all I lived for every day, I'd pick up my journal with a pen in hand and I'd see what came of it. Lots of times, the result was a list of drowsily scribbled to-do's trying to make sense of my week and fill the space in our waiting game. Every now and then, the result would include small and seemingly trivial details about my day. Those are the ones I like best. That's the way life really was and still is, even if I've failed to capture it again. When I open those pages, I am in the middle of summer, hot and sticky, fingers resting on a firm, beautiful tummy watching Lily scribble in side walk chalk, getting covered in the pastel powder as I try to teach her her shapes. We sat on the small landing at the top of our stairs, tucked back into the shady, grassy corner of our red-brick apartment complex. The air smelled of muggy grass and tomato plants and the scorching oil splotches of the parking lot. Darin would come home from work and we'd be complete. He'd hoist Lily up on his lap and ride his bike around the parking lot with her squealing in delight. Or we'd go inside with the swamp cooler blasting loud and cold and make chicken salad sandwiches for dinner and watch Master Chef. Sometimes I'd lay on the ground with my shirt pulled up around my belly and Darin would lay beside me, tucking my hair behind my ear and smoothing his soft fingers over my skin where just inside, under a few layers of a perfect home, there was a boy.
Now months later, the world outside is a pillowy-soft, frozen, white expanse. We're in a new home, a larger one. Lily runs and dances and explores her new space every day like it could never get old. She's made a new home of the island in the kitchen where she scoots and pulls a wooden stool to climb atop and help mama. Wielding a spoon, she sends small puffs of flour into the air while singing a song about mixing. We're comfortable in this space. We have room to stretch our legs, a perfect view of a temple spire from our front windows, and a fire to cozy up to when the lights are off and babies are in bed. Life is different now, but beautifully so. Lily climbed into Row Row's bed this morning and the two of them laughed at each other lying so close. I picked them both up and smiled at Lily's light and giggly reprimand spoken while Rowan pulled her hair and squealed. I love life with two. There are days, or rather stretched moments, when I feel like despite me having it all under control, everything explodes in an instant and I'm suddenly overwhelmed and out-numbered and gritting my teeth to keep from spewing forth an expletive that would undoubtedly be repeated in the small and innocent voice of a two year old. But they are passing moments. Mostly my days are filled with lots of giddy, high pitched exclamations from a little girl urging me to "Come on, mama! Look! See?!" about anything and everything around her, as well as the contented coos of a sweet, happy baby boy who rarely cries or fusses and who smiles a drooly, chubby-cheeked grin ninety-eight percent of the time. And now still, when Darin gets home, we are complete and whole in the same way we were when we were just three and when we were just two. We find each other smiling and sighing in response to the constant cuteness that happens around us as the other two grow.
I need to start writing again so that when it's warm again, or when my belly is round and taut for the fourth time, I can open the pages and be in the middle of this chilly winter with two babies and a hard-at-work husband who understands me so well it hurts. Here's to pulling out the pen again.
Now months later, the world outside is a pillowy-soft, frozen, white expanse. We're in a new home, a larger one. Lily runs and dances and explores her new space every day like it could never get old. She's made a new home of the island in the kitchen where she scoots and pulls a wooden stool to climb atop and help mama. Wielding a spoon, she sends small puffs of flour into the air while singing a song about mixing. We're comfortable in this space. We have room to stretch our legs, a perfect view of a temple spire from our front windows, and a fire to cozy up to when the lights are off and babies are in bed. Life is different now, but beautifully so. Lily climbed into Row Row's bed this morning and the two of them laughed at each other lying so close. I picked them both up and smiled at Lily's light and giggly reprimand spoken while Rowan pulled her hair and squealed. I love life with two. There are days, or rather stretched moments, when I feel like despite me having it all under control, everything explodes in an instant and I'm suddenly overwhelmed and out-numbered and gritting my teeth to keep from spewing forth an expletive that would undoubtedly be repeated in the small and innocent voice of a two year old. But they are passing moments. Mostly my days are filled with lots of giddy, high pitched exclamations from a little girl urging me to "Come on, mama! Look! See?!" about anything and everything around her, as well as the contented coos of a sweet, happy baby boy who rarely cries or fusses and who smiles a drooly, chubby-cheeked grin ninety-eight percent of the time. And now still, when Darin gets home, we are complete and whole in the same way we were when we were just three and when we were just two. We find each other smiling and sighing in response to the constant cuteness that happens around us as the other two grow.
I need to start writing again so that when it's warm again, or when my belly is round and taut for the fourth time, I can open the pages and be in the middle of this chilly winter with two babies and a hard-at-work husband who understands me so well it hurts. Here's to pulling out the pen again.
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