My life, the whirlwind.

Where to even begin?

My baby girl is almost 10 months old and hardly ever slows down. She is forever moving, learning, changing, finding new ways to amaze us and make us laugh. Motherhood is still the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me (marriage being a very close second). Watching her sleep warms my heart in a way I have yet to be able to describe. Every day I am astounded that I have been chosen as a guardian for this sweet little person who has so much to offer, and I hope and pray that I will have enough to offer her in return. My promises to her are still the same.

My sweet daughter;

I promise to teach you to love. To love others, to love yourself and most importantly to love the Lord. This above all is the most precious gift I can impart to you. I promise to do my very best to fill your life with joy, laughter and kindness. I promise to continuously pray over you, my beloved, that I will be able to be the mother you need me to be, a woman of godly wisdom and a vigilant watchman to keep you safe. I promise to love your daddy with everything that I have to give and to never stop working to show you how wonderful marriage can be when you let Him choose for you. I promise to allow you to learn, to grow and to make mistakes, but to step in when the cost is too high. My hopes for you are that God will make your feet like hind's feet in high places, that His Word will be a light for your footsteps and that you will learn to have the wisdom to avoid the snares that will seek to entrap you.

But for now, baby girl, I hope you slow down just a little. I treasure every time in the wee hours of the morning after you've eaten that you bury your head in my chest and wrap your tiny arms around my neck. Every heartfelt, shining toothless smile I hide away in my heart to think of when you're not around, every breathless giggle and happy squeal. You stole my heart the instant you were born and I never want it back.

I love you, little one.

Struggling...

My baby is 2 1/2 months old - she will officially hit the 11 week mark tomorrow. This precious time as a newborn has flown by faster than I ever though imaginable, and soon it will be over. My bouncing baby girl is now a hefty 13 pounds, and her tootsies hang over the edge of the bouncer that dwarfed her when I brought her home.

For the most part she is such an easy baby... excluding growth spurts and illness, she hardly ever cries unless she needs something. Despite issues with reflux, she eats well (as being in the 90th percentile for weight will doubtless prove) and is a world-champion snuggler.

I treasure those quiet moments in the early morning that I nurse her and am rewarded with a sleepy smile before she allows herself to be lulled back into dreamland.

And I dread the time that I am away from her. (Allow me to be upset for a moment...)

I keep hearing the same thing from people in regards to leaving her to go to work...

"It will get easier."

My question in return is, "When?"

It has been a month and 5 days since going back to work, and it still rips my heart out to climb in my car knowing I'm not going to see her until the end of the day, wondering what I'm going to miss while I'm gone, desperately wanting to rush back, take her into my arms and rub my cheek against her sweet downy head.

At my 6 week postpartum visit with Dr. W, she let me in on what I'm afraid is going to be my reality. It doesn't get any easier- there might just come a time where I am in a place of acceptance. She said my heart would always hurt over the time I'm going to miss with her. My question again, is "When- when will this acceptance come?"

I need something to give- there are days (usually the ones that I'm not working) that I think I'm okay with being a working mom. Then Monday morning rolls around and I find myself back in the same place - struggling - to tear myself away from her and focus on working.

Don't get me wrong- my point of objection about working has nothing to do with the care she receives when I'm away. Her daddy does a fantastic job of parenting her by himself during the weekdays and although he might not need me to be there, I want to be so much it hurts. I know it doesn't hurt Carys for me to be away- she probably doesn't even notice when I'm gone. I do love the big smiles I get when I get home. I suppose it is selfish reasoning on my part to want to stay home so much. Regardless of my reality, I find myself hoping that something will change, things will get better for us financially, or I'll find some way to make supplemental income from home - and I'll get to make my job just being wife and mommy.

I know there are plenty of women who are in a more difficult situation than I am. I know that Carys doesn't have to go to daycare, and I'm not working full-time... but does this invalidate my feelings about my situation?

I know that it isn't realistic (a word I find myself using more and more these days) for me to be a full time stay at home mom right now, but that doesn't keep me from wanting it. I guess I just need something to change. I need to adjust, accept, whatever it is that will make me feel better.

And I need to do it soon.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Back To Work I Go...

As you may have guessed by this point, Carys is with us! She was born at 3:53 PM on June 14th, was 19.5 inches long and weighed 7 lbs. 8 oz. She is the love of our lives and I can't imagine a time before she was with us.

She is also the reason I've been slacking off of writing blog updates! She occupies much of my time these days, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Priorities have a funny way of shifting with the arrival of a new baby, I've found. Housework and other things that I placed pretty high on the list during our B.C. era (Before Carys) have given way to feedings, diaper changes, and time for snuggling.

Some day I'll post my birth story- I tried to write it shortly after coming home from the hospital, but my heart wasn't in it (exhaustion, I suppose), and it was stilted and dry.

Today marks the end of my maternity leave from work - I return on a part time basis this morning in about an hour. I am struggling with this part the most, I think. This will be the longest I've ever been away from my sweet baby bird- I know I'm going to cry my eyes out as soon as I'm in my car. Don't get me wrong- I know there are a lot of mothers that have it a lot worse than I do. I know I'm not going back full time, I know I am fortunate enough to not have to place her in daycare, but knowing these things doesn't lessen the ache in my heart. I spent the last (almost) year of my life connected to this little person every moment of the day, being able to reach down, put my hand on my stomach and feel her little wiggles and kicks- even though I've spent short amounts of time away from her since delivery, this feels so much different. There is a tiny part of me that will be glad to get a break, but it is vastly overwhelmed by how much I am going to miss seeing her little face. It is, and will always be the desire of my heart to be able to stay home with her, but I am able to realize that it's not a financial possibility for us right now and I'm willing to do what it takes to help take care of our family.

My body will be at the country club today, but my heart will stay here, snuggled in our cozy nest with my little bird.

I will post again soon with a real update, this was just what is on my (heavy) heart today.

End in sight ...

Well, we were 37 weeks on Monday!

We are closer every day to meeting Carys - now that we are out of the pre-term stage, however, she seems more than content to stay hidden away in her own little world. Although I am anxious to meet her, as everyone else is, I am feeling surprisingly relaxed about being on her timetable. Despite being hugely pregnant and all of the discomfort that entails, I'm enjoying these last few days/weeks. I am able to work on projects that will fall by the wayside if unfinished when she arrives, my house stays neat and clean for the moment and I set my own agenda. I don't think it's possible to fathom exactly how much our lives will change when she does decide to join us, but I know that much of the lifestyle we are accustomed to will change. I look forward to the busyness of being a parent, but for now am content to let things happen when they will.

At our last appointment, Carys had wiggled back up close to my ribs - because her head wasn't engaged any longer my cervix closed and lifted up. I have been doing some things to encourage her to drop (for comfort's sake as much as getting her ready for her birthday); walking, bouncing on my exercise ball, etc., and it seems to be working. She seems to have settled back down into the position she was in prior to my preterm labor. I am curious to see if it is causing any cervical changes.

Her movements did seem to slow briefly when she was in the higher position - presumably because her legs were too folded up. Now that she's dropped, there is a flurry of activity for most of the day again. She is constantly straightening her legs against the walls of my uterus - it pushes her little butt out and I can feel the vague outline of her feet on the opposite side until she relaxes again. The skin on the top of my stomach is starting to get sore (it feels like a sunburn) from being stretched, I suppose. It is painful to touch... I am surprised that I have not had any stretch marks on my stomach (yet)- it is distended to an almost comical degree. I really do look like I've swallowed a melon whole!

Our next appointment with Dr. W is on Thursday afternoon. She mentioned last week that after 39 weeks, if we'd like, she would schedule an induction. I'm not sure how I feel about this yet- I am having some physical issues with the strain of being this far along that would resolve with delivery but barring any issues with the baby's health, I don't think I'd mind letting her get to 40. I've heard both good and bad stories about induction, but until I'm a little closer to that point I'm not sure I'll be able to form an opinion.

At any rate, whenever she decides to come we'll be ready. The nursery is finished, our 'go' bags are packed, car seat is installed, so now we just wait.

An open letter to my daughter...

My sweet Carys,

Daddy and I are only a few short weeks (at the most) from meeting you now - we could not be more excited! We have so many questions about you - will you have Daddy's big, blue eyes, my almond shaped, green ones, or will you have eyes that are all your own? Will you have corn-silk colored hair like he did when he was a baby and will it curl in the back like mine did? Are you going to be laid-back or will you be feisty and strong willed? Will you be outgoing and social or shy and reserved?

It seems like only yesterday we were finding out that we would be welcoming you into the world - my little miracle. We weren't sure we would ever be able to be parents and we are infinitely grateful that we were proven wrong. When I was 20, doctors told me that as a result of some physical problems I was dealing with it would be 'unlikely' that I would be able to conceive. This didn't bother me as much then as it did when I met your father, got married and our thoughts turned to starting a family. Hopeful excitement turned to disappointment, which eventually turned to bitter longing. We prayed, pleaded and cried together as we waited for you. After a painful year of medical intervention and futile grasping at hope, we decided to stop trying for a while, to recover and try to heal. I didn't understand at the time why God seemed to be denying the desires of our hearts, the only thing I knew was that my empty arms ached to be filled. I watched people around me starting their own families and withdrew from them- it wasn't their fault that they were able to have what I so desperately wanted but it didn't make a difference to the pain I carried with me.

I needed something to pour my energy into that would distract me from the gaping emptiness in my heart - something that would help me to move on. Your daddy and I talked for a while about me joining the Navy and some of the things that it would offer us - to be truthful, although I was genuinely interested in the opportunities it offered, I was running. I felt like I needed to get away, to immerse myself totally in a world where I was not constantly confronted by what I perceived to be my personal failure. I was prepared to throw myself as wholeheartedly into my work as I did into the training I needed to be ready to join. Over the next several months I immersed myself in cardio (losing almost 40 pounds), took the college courses I needed to qualify, and convinced myself that perhaps I was just not meant to be a mother, that maybe I was meant to dedicate my life to the service of my country. I was two weeks away from the date I was supposed to be sent for my medical examinations in order to be able to enlist...

and then there was you.

There were not any glaring signs that you were present, just a lot of little things- I was tired, moody and my eating habits changed a little, but since I wasn't watching for your arrival I took these symptoms individually and determined that it was just that I was getting burnt out. I was working 2 full time jobs and still taking college courses so there was good reason for being tired! One night on a whim I took a pregnancy test, fully expecting it to be negative. I even joked with your dad about there being no chance of it being positive, yet a few minutes later I was standing in the bathroom staring in shocked awe at a digital display that said 'pregnant'.

I don't remember the walk downstairs to where he was fiddling with a video game console, just standing in the living room trembling from head to toe and blurting out, "Jeremy..." to which he replied absently, "What?"

And then I dropped the bomb. "I'm pregnant."

He immediately dropped what he was doing, slack jawed in amazement as I had been a few moments earlier and asked incredulously, "What did you just say?!" I managed to stammer "I think I'm pregnant! Come see." I'd left the test sitting on the bathroom counter and as we climbed the stairs together to look at it doubts whirled through my mind. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? Was there some malfunction in the test itself that would've given a false positive?

When we reached the bathroom we found ourselves staring at the truth in bold, black letters - 'pregnant'. I looked up into his eyes and watched them fill with joyful tears even as I felt my own begin to well up. From that moment, our entire lives changed. Just like David proclaims in Psalm 30:11, my mourning was turned into dancing!

Despite all the worry I've had about you, the last 9 months have been the most wonderful of my life and I know it will only get better. I would go through every month we spent waiting a hundred times over if it meant that you were the end result. I didn't understand at the time why God wasn't blessing us with a baby when we trying, but all of those other months, if we had been successful it wouldn't have been you. He knew you before He formed you and His actions (or inaction, as it seemed at the time) were deliberate because you are the daughter He wanted us to have. Although I couldn't see His intentions, He knew that one day He would give us the desire of our hearts.

I am so thankful for you, my love, and I can't imagine what it would've been like if it wasn't you. We are incredibly in love with you already, and we can't wait to start our lives together. I can't promise you that we'll always know exactly what to do, but I can promise we will always try to do the right thing. I can't promise I'll be a perfect mother, but I promise I'll be the best one I know how to be. I can't promise I'll have all the answers, but I promise that I'll raise you to know the One that does. I can't tell what the future holds for us, but I can say with absolute certainty- I loved you from the moment I knew you and I will never stop loving you.

I have been anxiously waiting for you to come for the last 9 months and now that I am on the cusp of meeting you I find myself hoping that things slow down. I know some day when you are grown I'll look back on this time and your babyhood and think about how quickly it passed - I want to treasure each moment with you. Take your time growing up, sweet girl. I know you won't be old enough to understand this for a long time yet - there's no rush getting there.

I love you more than you could possibly imagine.

-- Mom

L & D, Act II.

So, it's been a few days since I was back in labor and delivery (5/29-it was Sunday night), but I haven't been able to scrape together the energy to relive the experience until now.

After Jeremy got home from work that night, we had supper and settled in to watch "A Game of Thrones" together. I'd been having a lot of contractions that day but didn't think much of it because I've been having them for weeks. I drank several glasses of water and tried to lie down to see if they would relent. Right before the show came on (at 9:00 pm), however, I started noticing a pattern of regular intervals. I'd already taken a Procardia (the medicine I was on to stop labor) a few hours prior and we were right on the cusp of the day Dr. W told me to stop taking it, so I called L&D to ask them what I should do. At this point my contractions were about 7 minutes apart. I called, explained the situation, and asked the nurse if she thought I should take another Procardia... (this next part will become important later) She said, "No, we want you to go ahead and come in." We got ready, put the hospital bags in the car and went.

When I was admitted, contractions were about 3-4 minutes apart and closing. The nurse assigned to me checked my cervix and it was at almost 3 cm and over 75% effaced (progression since my last appointment with Dr. W). The doctor on call, Dr. G, wasn't actually at the hospital so they had to call her to get instructions. They monitored my contractions for about an hour to determine whether or not they were going to send me home (false labor), or if it was the real deal (early labor).

The contractions got down to about 2 minutes apart and included strong lower back pain that included what felt like menstrual cramps. When the nurse reappeared, she told us that I was in fact, in early labor. I asked her at that point if they were going to try to stop my labor, or if I would be allowed to progress. She told me that they'd spoken to Dr. G and that they were not going to administer anything with the specific design of stopping labor (terbutaline) but that because Carys was technically premature they were going to give me morphine in an attempt to slow it along with pushing fluids to see if dehydration was the culprit (this neither made sense to me at the time or now looking back on it). Another nurse came in, placed an I.V., and I was given an injection of morphine in my left hip.

The only things the morphine accomplished were 1) making me feel floaty, and 2) causing my contractions to become extremely erratic in nature although they were still occurring at a regular interval. I felt the urge to walk and asked the nurses if I could- they informed me that I was on bedrest with 'bathroom privileges'. A few hours later, my contractions had stabilized and were starting to increase in intensity. The nurse checked back in with me and said that the morphine had not been successful (obviously). When she tried to check my cervix this time, however, it was so high that she wasn't able to reach it. She was trying to be gentle, but the exam was extremely painful. She had another nurse come in to see if she could reach it - the second nurse didn't try and didn't seem to notice/care that I was in the middle of a contraction. It was excruciating.

Nurse 2 mentioned that 'she couldn't really reach it', but that I was down to a fingertip and 50% effaced.

They went out to the nurses' station to confer with Dr. G by phone. Although my cervix was now high and closed for the most part, Dr. G wanted a better cervical check and so she asked for another dose of morphine to help me relax.

The second dose felt stronger than the first and made me a little nauseous. I could feel my body trying to fight the morphine again (my uterus was still making the attempt at contractions although they started to slow down), but I was so exhausted at this point after 6 or 7 hours in labor with no sleep that I was able to doze off for a few minutes at a time. By the time morning finally rolled around, I was only having 'irritability' contractions- uncomfortable but irregular, weak and unable to change my cervix. Dr. G was no longer on call, her younger counterpart Dr. G(2) was - she came in to speak with me after she arrived at the hospital for her shift. The nurses had also changed shifts. My new nurse, T, accompanied her.

Dr. G2 restated a lot of the things that I'd been told over the night - Carys is still premature, they don't want her to come this week, etc. She also informed me that although she wasn't going to ask me to continue taking Procardia because Dr. W didn't want me to after Monday, she was going to prescribe a different medication to 'stop false labor'. She assured me that if the contractions were 'real', it wouldn't have any impact on them. She also mentioned that she didn't think I was in labor the night before because the contractions didn't change my cervix. Never mind that my cervix was changing when I got to the hospital and only went to being high and closed during two rounds of narcotics, two bags of fluid and bedrest.

This frustrated me for two reasons. One, Dr. W wasn't around to be consulted for any of this. We decided together that I wasn't going to be on any medication after Monday. It's hard on my body to continue fighting labor and it seems to me that there are always tradeoffs to trying to interrupt a natural process with drugs. This brings me to point number two; this new medication has the unfortunate side effect of making me groggy/sleepy every time I take it. So, if I happen to go into labor and take this drug and it has no effect (as intended with 'real' labor), I'm going to be contracting and feeling drugged and tired.

Dr. G2 ordered my discharge and left, leaving Nurse T to give me my paperwork and explain the discharge instructions. Not before T continuously and incorrectly called my experience the night before 'false labor'. She even threw in an anecdote about how she 'thought' she was in labor prematurely when she was pregnant and then went on to carry a few days past her due date! She was also kind enough to explain the symptoms of real labor to me for future reference...

Regular contractions that increase in intensity and frequency.
May include lower back pain that radiates to the abdomen.
Do not go away after drinking water/lying down.

/facepalm.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not upset that Carys was able to stay in for a little while longer. I'm upset because I felt like I was strung along all night. I labored for 9 hours before my contractions were stopped. I kept telling Jeremy "I wish they would just stop the labor and let me go home or let me progress." I was stuck in labor limbo all night long, with large gaps of time where I didn't know what was going on because no one would give me a straight answer. I get that it was Memorial Day weekend and people were busy and had their own plans. I felt like we got brushed off, however. If I had my rathers, I would have taken the Procardia again at home (which also serves the purpose of stopping labor) and waited it out. I saw a doctor one time while I was in the hospital, a few minutes before I was discharged. It felt like a giant waste of my time and energy. To be honest, I also wasn't thrilled about dosing (although minor amounts) my unborn child with morphine twice when they could have accomplished the same ends with a different medication that wouldn't have taken as long to work.

I am planning on having a medicated birth but this doesn't mean I want to dump narcotics into my system willy nilly at every given opportunity.

This post ended up turning into more of a vent than anything, but I was and still am frustrated at the way I was handled at the hospital. Dr. W has always been really good about explaining what's going on with my body and the baby in as much detail as I need and giving me reasons for why she is pursuing particular avenues of treatment. I feel like we're a doctor/patient team, and not like the ignorant recipient of whatever she decides is best. Not knowing what's going on, an absentee doctor calling the shots without ever speaking with me and being at the mercy of staff that are not in particularly chatty moods was really hard on me.

I am really ready for this experience to be over.

The last few days have been tough on my body and it seems like I've shifted into being irritable without reason during this phase. I'm exhausted, in pain, and eager to see what Dr. W has to say at my appointment tomorrow. I really hope I don't have four more weeks of this.

One month away...

Today is one month to the date from Carys' due date, on Monday we will reach the 36 week benchmark and I will stop taking the medication that keeps my contractions in check. I have an appointment this afternoon with Dr. W, and I'm interested to see if the contractions and cramping I have been experiencing have changed the conditions of my cervix any (at last check I was 1 cm dilated and 50% effaced).

The last couple of weeks have been kind of a roller coaster ride physically, mentally and emotionally, and I think I'm getting to the end of my rope (I'm glad the gestation period for humans isn't any longer). I can't really think of any better way to describe it than this;

I'm going through some stuff right now.

I thought things would become easier the closer I got to her due date, but this is by far the most difficult stretch I've had thus far. I'm not even sure exactly how to 'fix' anything right now. My body is exhausted, but the most trying part is the emotional strain. There is such a trying myriad of emotions that is setting in - anxiety about when she will arrive, anticipation of holding her for the first time and bringing her home, a sense of sadness that my life will irrevocably be changed, and feelings of joy and excitement for the very same reason.

I am saying goodbye to the person I was before Carys, embracing this new role as mother and trying to stay afloat in this stressful new sea of fears that came with the revelation that I am going to be a parent. It feels like growing pains, almost. Everything is changing. It's necessary, it's good, and it opens the door to an entirely new, wonderful experience, but it is also one of the scariest times of my life. My mind stays filled with worries.

Is she/will she be okay?
What if she is stillborn?
What if something happens to her during delivery?
How would I ever cope if I lost her?
Will my body be capable of birthing her?
What if I'm not ready for this?
What if my maternal instincts aren't enough?
Will people try to steamroll me when it comes to parenting, and if they try will I have the backbone to stand up for what I feel is right?
Will I be able to find my voice as her mother and protector?
What if she doesn't love me?
Will I know how to take care of her?
What if something is wrong with her?

and the big one...


What if I'm not a good mom?


I am not afforded the luxury of testing the waters with a toe and 'working my way in' to motherhood - it is a flying leap into the unknown. It's terrifying, stressful, exhilarating, and joyous, but most of all...


It is HAPPENING.