(And All My) Work Be Praise

For the first five:  Levi's birth story ,  Owen's birth story ,  Silas's birth story ,  Toby's birth story , Calvin's birth story This sixth birth story feels almost anticlimactic compared to the other five. My water didn't break during a thunderstorm (Levi and Calvin), she wasn't posterior (Owen), there were no paramedics or ambulances involved (Silas and Toby), my labor wasn't precipitous or with worries of a breech baby (Calvin). Nevertheless, every birth has a story, and this is Tessa's: Contractions began at 8:20am, one week after her due date. I had enough of them to call my midwife around 10am, which is about the same time they slowed down to every 10-15 minutes for the next FIVE HOURS. I've never been in labor for more than eight hours, so by the time that seventh hour hit with no progression, I was pretty discouraged. We shipped the boys off to my parents' house around 3pm and went for a walk, which helped a little with intensity...

If you've known me for any length of time, you've probably heard me (lovingly, semi-jokingly) refer to my children as "wimpy." If you picture my household of boys as the stereotypical group of climbing, rough-housing, dare-devil male monkeys, well . . . you're wrong. While Calvin is out to prove every word of this paragraph incorrect, my first four boys are, by and large, sitters: they love to draw, read, play board games and card games, build things out of LEGO and magnatiles, etc. With the exception of Levi's newfound interest in soccer last year, they are, for the most part, artists and intellectuals, and I've never felt the need to push them too hard in other areas. Until this summer, that is. We simply couldn't ignore their need to know how to swim any longer. (Actually, I personally don't care much, as I don't find swimming all that enjoyable. Give me a novel and a lounge chair in the shade, hands down, every time. But my husband and mo...

For background information, or just to relive the first four with me:  Levi's birth story , Owen's birth story , Silas's birth story , Toby's birth story What I wanted more than anything, in this my third planned homebirth, was (as my new midwife, Maureen, coined it) a no-drama birth. No panicking over low heart tones, no paramedics, no ambulances, no cord issues. I'm honestly not sure if I got what I wanted. With respect to myself, this pregnancy was a million times healthier than the last two. My blood pressure stayed low the entire 41 weeks, minimal swelling and that not till the last week, no need for herbal tinctures or intense hip massage (see Silas's birth story, linked above). As with the last two, baby measured quite big (at least two weeks ahead of schedule) from about 36 weeks on, but inasmuch as I have demonstrated my ability to birth big babies, I wasn't worried. No-drama birth ahead indeed. I was, however, naive enough to think that thi...

Quite some time ago, I promised to post Levi's birth story at his next birthday. That was at least 2 years ago, maybe 3, and I never did it. So tonight, in honor of my firstborn's fifth birthday tomorrow, I will at last revisit my first-ever childbirth! (Re-posted and edited from the original Facebook "note.") For those of you who want the gory details (and I know some of you will), I was quite the miracle patient at Good Sam hospital on Wednesday night (or so they say). On Monday morning at my midwife appointment, I was maybe 50% effaced and considerably less than 1 centimeter dilated. "Keep your appointment for next week," I was told. Tuesday night at 11pm, I experienced one gush of fluid that I suspected was either my water breaking, or sudden overwhelming urinary incontinence. We called the midwives, who told me to wait 3 hours and if it continued, I would need to go in [being group B strep positive, there was more concern of infection should my wate...

Last year for Silas's first birthday we bought him a book called Plip-Plop Pond from this Indestructibles series. (Whoa -- just checking that link for the first time since last year; there are SO many more available now!) They're books made for babies: bright pictures, no words, and totally chewable pages.  Won't rip, nontoxic, and can be washed. I'm not even sure what the material is: thin like paper, but thick like waxed paper, but not really coated like waxed paper . . . no idea. Anyway, at one year old, Silas was already a little past the chewing-on-everything stage. He liked the pictures, but it didn't hold his attention. At five months old, though, Toby  loves  this book. His face lights up when I hand it to him, more so than some of his other toys. Maybe it's the way it crinkles in his hand? The way the corners smoosh between his gums? Again, no idea. I can't really say why you'd choose a chew-book over a chew-toy, except that I happen to h...

Or, what happens when the eleven-days-past-due-date coincide with the two-weeks-of-Christmas-goodies gluttony. Monday, January 6, 5:15am. Eleven days past due date. I wake up to go to the bathroom like I do every morning about this time, only this time, when I lay back down, it finally happens: a contraction . Now, I've been having contractions on and off for about three days, but not of the sort that gets anyone excited about labor actually starting any time soon. Fact is, I've almost reached the point where I seriously doubt I will ever give birth to this baby. But the contractions continue, and they actually hurt a little!, and within an hour they've moved from 10 minutes apart to 4-5 minutes apart. Progress! Hooray! The necessary people are called (Grace, my midwife, and Melanie, her assistant, to start over, and Isaac's mom, to come get the three older boys), the birth tub is filled, the boys' bags are packed for a night at Oma's. Already things aren...

I cannot get over the sight of those tiny arms. I have struggled, just the past week or two, with the thought of this coming baby. We're limping along here, the house and the children and myself all in various states of chaos. I (mostly) quit getting on Facebook because the rest of the world seems so darn chipper, seems to have it all together, when I am seemingly failing on so many fronts. I say "seemingly" because I know my husband would argue that everyone is fed, everyone is dressed, and I am making baby parts. Everything else is inconsequential in comparison. He is good to me when I am not good to myself. But even so, it has crossed my mind more than once, in moments of defeat: I do not want this baby.  Not so much that I don't want the baby, of course; but I cannot add another thing -- another person, I mean -- to take care of. I can't.  I don't have it in me. I can't even keep up with what I have already. And every flitting thought comes with ...

Now that I'm on my fourth pregnancy, I'm finding it easy to look back and give each one a theme. Without any further introduction: Levi was The Vomiting & Swelling Pregnancy. That was back before I knew just how easy it is for me to avoid "morning" sickness: a minimum of 80 grams of protein a day, spread out through the day but especially first thing in the morning and in the mid-afternoon, and I'm totally fine. That was also the summer I couldn't believe just how huge I could be. (That was, of course, before I was pregnant with Silas, when I found out that my carrying-Levi self could have passed for a runway model in comparison.) Owen was The Easy Pregnancy. No sickness, no swelling, a much more manageable weight gain, and he was an easy baby to boot. He is, naturally, making up for all of his early easiness by his incredible two-year-old-ness. Silas was The Hard Pregnancy. Or The Fear of Pre-ecclampsia Pregnancy. Or The Super-Fat Pregnancy. Or any ...

So, about this whole baby announcement . I'm due December 26, making me ten weeks along today. I'm feeling about like most women do at ten weeks: tired, not great, but most likely on my way out of it as second trimester approaches. I have learned a lot from carrying three babies, and I know that as long as I get 90-100 grams of protein a day, spaced out throughout the day, I'll be fine. That sounds like a lot, but since I was shooting for 150g/day at the end of my pregnancy with Silas, it's been pretty easy so far. There are a great number of reasons to be happy about being pregnant right now (and I'm keeping a list in a journal I bought just a few weeks ago, when the emotions of early pregnancy threatened to overwhelm). I lost all of my Silas weight before I got pregnant. Since I've been in the habit of watching what I eat for months, it's been relatively easy to keep doing the same -- I'm just watching the protein number instead of the calorie num...

A few months ago, I came across an article online about baby-led weaning. Of course I can't find the exact post now, but it basically entails skipping the pureed-foods stage and offering baby age-appropriate table food to eat themselves. It sounded interesting and logical, and though I'm usually a bit wary of anything labeled "baby-led" or "child-centered," etc., I tucked the information away for future reference. (In my head, not for real, or else I'd be able to find the article.) Well, then Silas hit six months, and he was nursing a TON more than the other boys were at his age, and I was getting awfully tired of getting up every four hours, but he hadn't gained any weight in two months . . . all of that run-on sentence to say, I decided to go ahead and feed him as I had the other two. We tried brown rice cereal. We tried applesauce. We tried mashed banana. Everything met with the same reaction he'd given our few bottle-feeding attempts: c...

Read Part One  here . Okay!  So I left you all hanging at midnight, with everyone in my house (Levi, Owen, Grace, Melanie, Mom, Dad, Isaac, and myself) more or less asleep, except I think my mom, who stayed up all night.  I got about a half-hour's nap in before contractions started to speed up again.  At maybe 1:15am (the times are a little fuzzy from here on out, but close enough), I got back in the birth tub.  I forgot to mention earlier, but any time I was slung over the edge of the tub, Isaac was sitting on a stool behind me, keeping pressure on my back.  It was a long, cold, wet night for him!  (I also added a picture to the first post, if you want to go back and see. ) Anyway, with the increased contractions came an increased urge to push.  Those of you who have read my previous birth stories know that this is my biggest challenge in labor: not pushing before it's time.  Grace came back into the room around 2, maybe 2:30am and said ...

I'm actually a little unsure of where in the pregnancy timeline to start this story.  So much of what took place this week had to do with the course of events over the past month or so, and some of it even farther than that.  Let's see if I can briefly give enough back story . . . My first two sons (you can read Owen's here , and I'll post Levi's on his birthday next month) were pretty standard hospital births.  Both were fairly easy pregnancies and deliveries, with little intervention and no drugs beyond the necessary antibiotics for group B strep and the standard pitocin drip for delivering the placenta.  A sweet friend from church who happens to be a home-birth midwife had been gently trying to persuade me towards a home birth since before my first was born, and given my track record with easy babies, my husband and I decided to give it a try.  We liked the idea of avoiding some of those standard hospital procedures, like the pitocin for placenta, and the r...

Wednesday was a particularly dreary day here in Cincinnati.  Levi was just starting to come down with his cold, we were all getting bored and antsy from a long morning inside, and we needed something fun to do!  As we were eating lunch, I spotted a sheet on the couch that hadn't yet made it to the laundry, and inspiration struck: a fort! It turns out that I do not yet possess great fort-building skills.  (I say "yet" because I foresee plenty of practice in my future.)  We got off to a rocky start: my obsessive-compulsive toddler freaked out quite a bit over a dining room chair being in the living room, and then he tried to put a toy on top of the sheet and fell flat on his face when the whole sheet came crashing down. After I finally convinced Levi to crawl under the sheet, I suggested he get some toys to take in the fort.  He took this as a directive to empty the entire toy cupboard plus all of the puzzles, and derived great joy from the pile of toys "in de...

I meant to post a picture of the birthday boy with yesterday's post, but forgot! Owen John, one year old

An edited re-post of a Facebook "note" in honor of Owen's first birthday today.  If you don't love reading birth stories, you might want to skip this post.  :) Monday morning, Nov. 15, a week before due date, I went to my midwife appointment as usual. About half an hour after we got home (10:30am-ish), I started having some infrequent pain in my lower abdomen, well underneath my belly. It didn't feel anything like I remembered, contractions-wise, so I rather ignored it for a while until my lower back started to ache, too. Isaac kept asking if we should call the midwife, but I kept insisting that we weren't to call until I had contractions 5 minutes apart, and that I'd be better off just taking a nap -- which I did, except for the contractions which continued to come every 15-20 minutes. When I got up (2:15pm-ish), we called the midwife, who said exactly what I expected: at 20 minutes apart, they're not doing anything. Drink a glass of water and...