Joseph's Birth Story (two years after the fact)

 

As always, this blog will contain entirely too much information because I want to remember it all. 

The story of Joseph coming into being begins autumn 2018.  My pattern thus far had been to get pregnant in October of even years and have a baby in June or July of odd years.  It’s a good system.  Summer babies are the best (minimal germ worries), having everyone’s birthday close together is very convenient, and (most of all) that way we barrel through pregnancies and I get done sooner.  It’s a great plan!

So, you can imagine my surprise when fertility time rolled around, and I felt pretty strongly that getting pregnant right then wasn’t the right thing to do.  God and I had many conversations about it, but really only one conversation over and over, it went like this:

Me: I think I should get pregnant right now.

Heavenly Father: Not right now.  Take a little break.

Me: I don’t want to take a break, I want to get one step closer to never being pregnant again!

But, ultimately, as much as I wanted to get the pregnancy over with, I wanted to do what Heavenly Father suggested more.  And, you won’t be surprised to learn that waiting was the right decision. Through introspection, I learned a lot about self-sacrifice (do less of it), self-care (do more of it), and what God expects from me.  In January, I saw a functional medicine doctor who diagnosed me with a genetic disorder (the MTHFR genetic mutation) and an autoimmune disorder (Sjogren’s disorder—if you’re going to have an autoimmune disorder, that it the one to have!).  She put me on some supplements and recommended some diet changes and within a few days, I was feeling better than I had in years.  (That was also the first time in more than six years that I was not pregnant and/or nursing, so that probably helped.) In hindsight, I realize I had been pretty depressed for some time.  I don’t think “chemically” depressed, but rather worn-out depressed.  So, the doctor really changed my life.  Also, she recommended that I not get pregnant again because it would be too hard on my body, but I was like “I do what I want.” (But when I went to see her when I was several weeks pregnant, she was very happy for and supportive of me. “Babies are ALWAYS a blessing,” she said.  So true!”)

So, I didn’t get pregnant.  I enjoyed having energy, feeling full of life, and wearing non-nursing friendly clothes.  I didn’t keep the dietary recommendations from the doctor for too long, and after that I felt significantly less full of life, but still better than usual. 

Then came Mother’s Day 2019.  Ironically, my sweet mother-in-law took my kids so I could have a break from mothering.  After my nap, I decided to go on a little hike by myself and think about life.  The main topic was “is it time to get pregnant again.”  After pondering it for a bit, I thought to myself (mostly jokingly, but it also struck a truth chord) that my friend Jenny who always has a baby three months before me wasn’t pregnant, so I shouldn’t worry about it yet.  I sent Jenny a video message to that regard (mostly as a joke) and went on with my life.  Turns out, Jenny was in Europe when she got my message, but she came for a visit within a few days of being home and told me she was pregnant.  And my heart knew, it was game on!  I started taking my fertility herbs that day—May 23.

 

June 21, I wrote in my journal “Before going to the park, I was so tired, I laid down in the front yard a bit.”

 

June 25^th, I got a positive pregnancy test! But the line was super faint, so Matt said we shouldn’t get excited yet.  I had two more mornings of very faint positive tests, and then went to the midwife for a blood test, which was positive. Yay!  But a second blood draw was needed so make sure things were progressing along correctly, and they were, so it was tentative celebration time. 

 

July 10^th I had the ultrasound to make sure the baby was in the uterus (not my remaining Fallopian tube, due to my history of ectopic pregnancy), and it was! Full-blown celebration time!!

 

Those of you who remember my last pregnancy/birth blog post might remember that my 3^rd pregnancy was very, very hard on me emotionally.  I had been praying for months that I’d be able to prepare myself physical, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually to have an easier pregnancy this time (which is probably why God had me wait), and I’m happy to report that this pregnancy was much easier emotionally than the last one.  Physically it was hard.  Funny how many new problems can pop up even when I’d already done the whole pregnancy thing thrice.  But, of course, I was older this time. 

 

My most memorable physical problem was intense round ligament pain around three months (before I was even showing) that periodically made walking very difficult.  I have a sweet, tender memory of me hobbling down the hall with an armful of things and my kids coming, totally unsolicited to my aid.  Adele took all the stuff out of my arms, and Ivar gently put his arms around my waist from the back and said, “Don’t worry Mama, I won’t let you fall.”  Those sweet kids!!

 

So, we all hobbled along together on the pregnancy journey.  Me, barely functioning, but glad not to be feeling like I should just die (which had been the theme of pregnancy #3).  A tiny bit of bleeding in October landed me three days of bed rest (out of an abundance of caution).  That was a nice excuse not to do anything. But, simultaneously lots of guilt for not doing anything. 

The due date was March 4^th, but whenever anyone asked, I would say the due date, but then add that it would probably be more like March 14^th or 15^th.  I’ve gotten later with each of my babies, but, of course, there’s always hope that the baby will come early.  Especially when you’re having contractions all day every day for two months.  We were hoping for a Leap Day baby, but that didn’t work out.  Then we were hoping for an on-the-due-date baby, but that didn’t work out. 

 

Some journal entries from this period: 

 

February 15: “During sacrament meeting, Matt asked if I was okay.  I replied, ‘I’m not in labor or anything, I’m just really uncomfortable.’ He said, ‘Okay…. It’s just that you look like you’re in labor right now.’”

 

February 25: “This evening, I had 2-ish hours of continual contractions that didn’t get worse but were making my backs and legs sore” (that was a first for me) “They were intense and didn’t stop no matter what I did.  I couldn’t figure out if I was in pre-labor or not.  Matt was trying to keep the kids away from me—he was screaming, they were screaming” (so much screaming!!! I decided to call Pat, and, blessedly, she came and took the kids.  Then the contractions eased up.)

 

March 1^st “During ward council, the Bishop looked at me and said, ‘Are you okay?!’ I didn’t even realize I was grimacing.  I said, ‘I have contractions for weeks before going into labor.’  He said, ‘We’re honored to have shared a contraction with you,’ I said, ‘Yeah, I’ve had a ton since being here.’  Everyone who saw me walking at church asked if I was okay.”

 

March 2 “My sister called, and I told her I felt better than normal at this stage.  She said that normally when she calls me at this stage, I just yell at her.”

 

March 3^rd  “Two hours of very painful, non-stop contractions.  Matt made me call the midwife, but it was nothing.”

 

March 9 “I felt so awful.  Just so many contractions, and I couldn’t get comfortable, really not even get un-painful.”

 

March 10: “Today I rotated between ‘I CANNOT take much more of this!!!’ (contractions, pains, uncomfortableness, etc) and ‘obviously, I can do anything I need to do.’ I realized that on a deep, hidden level, I’m really scared of giving birth.  Deeper reflection revealed that, specifically, I’m afraid of going into a catatonic depression afterwards.  I scribbled on three different aspects of my fears, and each one cleared quickly and easily, then I felt great! Well, emotionally at least =)  “

 

It was only a few hours after writing that journal entry that I really did go into labor!  After the emotional/physical roller coast of the last few weeks, I was very unsure of whether or not I was in labor.  I was in bed with Tom around 2:30 when the contractions started (or “changed” is probably more accurate), but, of course, I had no way of knowing if they were real or not.  I walked up and down the hall for a bit seeing if they would go away.  They didn’t, but that wasn’t anything new.  I went and laid down next to Matt.  He asked if he should stay home from work.  I replied, “My brain doesn’t know, but everything in my body is yelling, ‘Don’t leave me!!! Don’t go to work!!!’”  Obviously, he didn’t go to work.  He started getting the bed and the birth tub ready, while I walked the halls. 

 

Birth Tub Filling 101 says that before you start, you need to turn your water heater up to its highest setting.  For some reason, this time, we were all like “Oh, it doesn’t matter.  Let’s just fill it without changing anything.”  Come to find out, it does matter.  By the time I got in, the tub (the smallest one the midwife had, by request) was not yet full and it was already COLD water coming out of the hose. 

 

The midwife and midwife-in-training arrived sometime around then.   The apprentice checked me, and I was dilated to a five.  Then everyone else was running around busily doing whatever it is that midwives and husbands do at this stage, while I sat in the tub working on being Zen.  At one point, I yelled, “Sitting in this lukewarm water IS NOT HELPING AT ALL!!!” Then everyone started boiling water to try to warm up the tub.  I’m pretty sure they had all four burners of the stove going, trying to warm up water to warm up the tub.   

 

In hindsight, this is quite hilarious because in movies and TV shows of “old-timey” births, they are always boiling water.  Why? I guess there was a certain amount of disinfecting needed.  Mom says the midwives had the husbands do it to keep them busy and out of the way.  Who knows? But, this time, I had an official, old-timey birth, complete with boiling water. 

 

At one point, I called Matt to come to me because I needed something.

Me: Go ask the midwife if she thinks I’m really in labor.

Matt: Holly, you are really in labor.

Me: JUST GO ASK HER!!!!

I needed a little reassurance after all the false alarms of the last several weeks. Also, I think I was thrown off because the midwife had been there for more than twenty minutes, and the baby hadn’t come yet (which was weird for me by this point).  None of us were surprised when she said yes, but I was, in fact, reassured. 

 

The vague memories I have of the labor was me sitting in the birthing tub with just the midwife apprentice in the room (I don’t know why) and me focusing on relaxing.  This time, I was sitting up (not reclined or on hands and knees).  When things going overwhelming, I was focus on my mantra, “I’m going to get huge (meaning my cervix, in case that was unclear) and my baby is going to slide right out.”  That helped me quite a bit. No low moaning this time, which was what got my through the first three.

 

 Eventually, I felt like pushing would hurt less than not pushing, so I started pushing.  I don’t think I announced it or anything, but suddenly everyone was in the room.  Matt was sent to go wake up Adele.  (All the kids were miraculously still asleep in their beds, but Adele had really, really, really been looking forward to being there for the birth.  We had decided we’d just bring her in for the tail end.) The midwives started telling me, “Don’t push!  Just pant….. Just breathe out gently.” I thought, “Nuh uh! No! You can’t trick me—I’ve read all the books!  That is for slowing things down.  We are NOT slowing this train down!” Instead, I yelled, “Matt!  Adele! Hurry up!!” and kept on pushing. 

 

When Matt and Adele arrived, I’m pretty sure the head was already out.  In my mind, I did two more pushes and the baby arrived.  But, I have video evidence to the contrary.  When the birth video starts, Matt and Adele are already there and the head is out. I feel like the pushing in the video goes on forever, but, in reality it was only about one minute.  I’m pushing, nothing seems to be happening, I comment that I can feel water gush out of the sac with each push (the amniotic sac was broken, but still around the baby when he was born!), nothing in happening.  Then, if you have the volume all the way up when watching the video, you can hear the midwife very quietly say, “You might try raising your bottom just a bit.” I raise my bottom maybe an inch (you wouldn’t even notice it is you hadn’t heard the midwife’s suggestion) and the baby literally comes shooting out. (I love my midwife!! She is so smart!!!)  The midwife-in-training reached down to remove the caul and unwrap the cord that, apparently, was wrapped very tightly around his neck.  But he was out!!  Yay!!

 

I think it was an hour and twenty minutes of labor.  The last two had been about fifty-one minutes each.  Funny how much longer that extra half hour made everything feel.

 

But, he was out!! Then came three and a half minutes of getting him pinked up.  He came out as purple as the bra I was wearing.  Mostly because the cord had been wrapped so tightly around his neck, and partially because his little face got bruised in the birthing.  I’ll add here for the millionth time how much I prefer the homebirth with a midwife approach because all of the medical interventions happened right there with him on my lap and the umbilical cord still attached.  WAY better for the baby, although harder for the healthcare professional.  Within about four minutes, he was sufficiently pink and had had a sufficiently good cry, which was quite a relief.  I mean, I was never too worried because the midwife (bless her!) never seemed too worried, but I could definitely tell that the purple face was not ideal. 

 

Matt cut the cord once it stopped pulsing.  I pushed out the placenta (unaware that six-year-old Adele was videoing most of it).  I got a quick shower, then into bed for relaxing and snuggling.  I had to get a few stitches, but I can’t remember when that happened. 

 

Once I was in bed, we called Pat to come over and meet the baby and then take the big kids home with her.  Pat was here, snuggling our little bundle of awesomeness when the big brothers finally woke up.  There was snuggling and photos and joy, and blessed Pat took the three big kids home with her for three days. 

 

This all took place around 5 am on March 11, 2020.  As you may recall, that is the day WHO declared Covid to be a pandemic.  The NBA cancelled all their games that day.  As I always say when explaining Joseph’s birth: the midwives came in the morning and no one was thinking Covid or masks or social distancing, but two days later when we took him to his first appointment with the pediatrician, the world was a different place. 

 

And it seems gauche to admit this, but the sake of historical personal history, I will say that the quarantine really turned out to be a blessing for me. You know how when you have a baby, you think that the world ought to stop? Well for me this time, the world actually did stop.  And it was awesome.  Adele had a science class that day that Grandma took her to, but by the next day, everything was cancelled.  We all got to hang out at home together with no outside worries.  Matt had originally only planned to use two weeks of FMLA leave, but ended up deciding to use the entire 12, which ended up being most helpful.  My awesome in-laws were right next store, and we included them in our “pod” (remember when that was a thing?!), so that helped so much.  It was really a lovely time. 

 

One small snag in my recovery was a persistently painful lower back for several days after the birth.  It was actually pretty terrible.  After several days of suffering, Matt insisted I call the midwife who suggested it was most likely my gallbladder.  So I started taking some gallbladder-supporting supplements I already had and eating low fat, and felt much better within a few hours.  Midwives are the best!

 

And when Joseph was one week and two hours old, there was that big earthquake in Utah.  The baby slept right through it.

 

And when he was three weeks old there was that riot in downtown Salt Lake.

 

It was a crazy time!!

 

But, it was nice how many things we have figured out by the time the fourth one is born.  As soon as he latched on, I knew he was tongue-tied (turned out he was lip-tied too), so we had the lactation consultant come the very next day, and luckily the dentist got us in to get it fixed the day after that.  Even with only two and a half days of nursing with a tongue-tie, my nipples took a beating, but I was smart enough to know to just pump and give bottles while I recovered.  Day 4 postpartum, I was feeling so hopeless and crazy and tired, but then I realized it was probably just my milk coming up, causing a big hormone surge, and that the world probably wasn’t actually a hopeless pit of despair and gloom, and I felt better right away.  Knowledge is power!! How do first time moms survive it?!

 

So now, here we are, two years later with a toddler, and, for the first time ever, not pregnant again.  Two out of three previous times, I gave birth within a few weeks of the current baby’s second birthday.  And the third time, I was at least newly pregnant.  This lack of information about whether or not another baby is coming has been an ongoing source of emotional turmoil for me: rotating between extreme relief and extreme distress about not being pregnant.  As soon as Joseph was born, I started having all the classic feelings of not being done: feeling like someone was missing, counting kids and feeling like you’d missed one even if you hadn’t, etc, etc.  So I figured we’d have another one for sure.  I started taking my fertility herbs around a year postpartum (which is when I night wean), but for the first time ever, nothing happened.  And after a few months, I felt like I should stop taking the supplements.  It was a combination of divine guidance plus me not wanting to buy somewhat expensive fertility herbs if I wasn’t going to be pregnant.  Several months after, I saw this meme: 

 

 

Which, oddly, made me really want another baby.  I talked it over with God, and what I decided was that I’d take my fertility herbs for two cycles and if I wasn’t pregnant by the, I’d stop.  The two months ended about a month ago. 

 

Somewhere around that same time, the kids were sitting at the bar eating, and looking, at them, I felt a big, heart-warming sense of completion.  It was such a potentially life-changing moment, I even took a photo:

 

Sometimes I feel like four is great.  I don’t want to go through pregnancy again and the newborn stage again, and (especially because I’m going through it right now) the toddler stage again.  And, I say to myself, “My doctor told me not to get pregnant again before I got pregnant last time! Who am I to argue?!”  And I think to myself, “These days, only super overachievers have five kids.  I’m not a super overachiever.” Or I point out to myself that we only have four spots at the bar, so having a fifth kids just wouldn’t work.  That is obviously the kind of thing you have to consider when making these eternal decisions =)

 

Or sometimes I think of how strongly I felt two years ago about someone being missing.  I was sure I had promised another soul in the premortal life that she could come to our family.  I don’t feel like that now, but surely there was a reason I felt like that then.  Sometimes, I think I AM a super overachiever and having five kids would be just right. And sometimes Adele weeps about not having a sister.  I can’t blame her—not having a sister would be a terrible thing!!

 

The heavens have mostly been silent on the subject.  The one big inspiration I have is based on Doctrine and Covenants 51:17 “Let them act upon this land as for years, and this shall turn unto them for their good.” Meaning, wherever you are, fully commit to that stage, don’t just wait around for the next thing to happen.  The Holy Ghost has told me to act like I’m not having more kids.  Don’t put my life on hold waiting for a baby to come.  I’ve been doing that for several months now, and it has been peaceful and joyful for me. 

 

Maybe another baby will come, maybe he/she won’t.  But I’ll keep plugging along, trying to move forward with my life and my goals.  I’m at peace.  Except for the one or two weeks every month where I’m waiting to see if I’m pregnant. Lately, I’ve been feeling pregnant every time, so I think I am almost every month, which is an emotional roller coaster.  I hope I can find some peace in that regard before hitting menopause.  But, we will see. 

 

So, that’s the end of Joseph’s birth story.  And either the end of all my birth stories OR the beginning of the next one.  Time will tell.  Now you can all join me in my restless unknowing.   

(most recent not-crying photo of Joseph)

The birth of Thomas

Today is Tom's first birthday.  Also, we are quarantined with hand foot and mouth disease.  So, it seems like a good day to start and finish his birth story.  As per my usual, this will include all the little details the average reader doesn't care about, insomuch as I can remember them twelve months later, without any notes, in one sitting.  And, as always, I will be including all the nitty-gritty TMI details, including yeast infections and poop.  You've been warned. 


If I had to associate one word with Tom's pregnancy, it would be guilt.  And fear.  And exhaustion.  So, three words.  Just being honest for the sake of truth in journalism.  In hindsight, I'm pretty sure I must have had antepartum depression.  Oh, I'm going to add the word "despair."  And also "craziness" because I was definitely intermiddently crazy.  So, we're up to five words to describe the pregnancy: guilt, fear, exhaustion, despair, and craziness.  As this paragraph indicates, this pregnancy was not a fun or uplifting experience for anyone involved.  But, at this point I'm going to fastforward to the end for a bit and say that the moment I pushed out the placenta, I raised my fist up over my head like a champion boxer and yelled, "It's over!  I did it!" and since that moment I have been back to myself, which is really quite miraculous.

At this point, you're probably thinking, 'Holly!  That doesn't sound like you!  What were you so upset about?"  Well, I couldn't really tell you at this point.  Maybe I couldn't have even told you then.  The thing that sticks out in my mind most is that I believe that a baby in utero feels what the mother feels, so I felt so guilt about feeling so awful all the time and that I was programming the baby to feel sad and crazy.  Also, I was afraid that the baby wouldn't feel wanted and that I was programming his precious little baby mind to feel like he wasn't wanted. I was worried he wouldn't be bonded to me.  Again, for the sake of honesty (and since it won't be a surprise to anyone who I spoke to during that time), I was really struggling with Matt and I being on such different pages regarding his career and if he was going to use his degree.  It was a haaaaaard time for me. 

I'm also going to add here that the reason I didn't think I was depressed at the time was because I also had moments of bliss very regularly.  I was like, "depressed people can't even feel happy, right?" I guess I still don't know the answer to that, and I'm not really into labels anyways, so let's just move forward with the story.

Long story short: I survived the first 36 weeks of my pregnancy.  Even managed a super fun trip to California at week 34.



(all three kids at the beach)

Just as a little "slice of history" here are a few journal excerpt from this period:

6/25/17 " A lady at church asked me if I was in labor.  I said, 'I don't think so'"

6/17/17 "As I was rushing to clean [a spilled tincture], my pelvis/groin started hurting so bad I could hardly walk.  That lasted all day"

7/1/17 "I made breakfast and it wore me out so much I had to lie down afterward.  I fell asleep and woke up in time to give the kids a bath, but Matt had to do it because I waas too tired."

7/1/17 "I don't remember the end of pregnancy being so hard before."

7/7/17 Ivar threw up at Red Robin after his birthday dinner there.  (Just FYI)

7/11/17 "Horrible weeping and wailing and emotional breakdown this morning"



At my 36 week check up the midwife said the baby was in a great position and already engaged.  She is a wise and experienced midwife and I know she didn't want to get my hopes up, but she did finally confess that she thought the baby might be ready to come anytime.  In fact, she said this baby seemed more ready to be born then either of the overdue babies she was taking care of.  I also tried not to get my hopes up, but that did shift me into "any day now" thinking. Luckily, after a few days of that, the Spirit told me that my second baby was five days overdue and my third baby would be at least that far overdue, so not to even plan on it until five days after the due date.  Which I tried to do, but, of course, hope still popped up every now and then. 

At 38 weeks, I had an hour and a half of weak but steady and constant contractions at 2am.  Remembering that my last labor only last 51 minutes, and not wanting to get caught off guard again, I called the midwife and together we decided to get the birthing tub ready, just in case, and then try to go to sleep and see what happened.  I woke up Matt and we set up the tub and we all went right to sleep and nothing happened.  The midwife had to come the next day with her special pump to empty the tub.  

The due date came and went.  The five-days-after-the-due-date goal came and went.  

To understand the next part of the story, I need to explain that for the last 3.5 months of the pregnancy I had a very bad yeast and bacterial infection that no rememdy (prescription or hippy dippy) helped in the least.  I tried everything.  Nothing helped. A hippy dippy friend told me that if the holistic rememdies weren't helping, then it must have an emotional cause that needed to be addressed.  I looked it up in my book and the underlying emotional cause for yeast infections is "Denying your own needs.  Not supporting yourself."  Yep, that sounds accurate.  

Then, six days after my due date, I got chills twice.  (you know, like "fever and chills" but without the fever) To me, it didn't seem like a big deal, but I decided to tell my midwife out of an abundance of caution.  She actually DID think it was a big deal. Her concern was that the infection might have spread up to my uterus, and if that was the case it was a big deal and straight to the hospital for me.    

Obviously, as a home birther, the hospital option was not my ideal.  But, at this point, I was caring less than usual.  And, obviously, I saw the danger of a uterine infection, if that's what it was.  This being my third birth, I was feeling pretty prepared and confident, but the idea of possibly going to the hospital really threw me for a loop.  How does one prepare for that?  The only thing I could think of was packing a hospital bag.  So I went to Pinterest and researched that, and it was completely overwhelming.  Luckily, before I packed my bag I went for a check up with my midwife and we decided that we could wait a bit since everything looked fine and I didn't have a fever and had only had two little chills.  I just had to take my temperature all the time and being super mindful of other possible symptoms.

The next morning I woke up and said to myself (as I had every morning for the last five weeks): "Well, I didn't have a baby in the night, so I guess not today."  I realized, logically, that some babies are born during the day, but somehow I still felt like once the morning came, your chance for the day was over.  (I shared this with my midwife and she said that after more than thirty years of delivering babies, she actually still finds herself thinking the same thing every morning.) 

At four o'clock that afternoon, Matt and I were lying in bed watching TV.  I was pondering on how my uterus hurt even more than usual (which was really saying something), when I rolled over in such a way that made it hurt even more.  It was pretty intense.  Then I felt and heard a "pop" in my abdomen.  It was like a rubber band snapping.  A very odd sensation.  It surprised me so much that I said something like "Woah!" and Matt asked what had happened.  I said, "It seems like maybe my water broke, except for there's no wa..... there it is."

I quick like a bunny got up and got into the shower to try to assess the deluge. I told Matt to fill up the tub.  (Luckily, due to our false alarm a few weeks earlier, the tub was not only aired up, but the liner was in and all the plumbing stuff was already in the bathroom. So he got it ready super quick, which turned out to be a very good thing.)

Then I sat on the toilet and started calling people.  I called the midwife first.  Someone who I didn't know answered her cellphone (turns out it was her brand new student) so I left a message.  I texted my co-leader for Activity Day Girls (it's like cub scouts for Mormon girls) and told her my water had broke, so I couldn't go to the activity that evening.  Then I called Pat (my mother-in-law who lives right next door) and told her "Thundercats are go" and that the kids would be over shortly.  Then, serendipitiously, my wonderful friend Jamie called me.  She said I'd been on her mind all day and she had a thought she wanted to share.  She said that she thinks Satan was trying to make me fearful (because my pattern up to that point had been lose pregnancy, have a baby, lose a pregnancy, have a baby, so if we kept this pattern something was bound to happen to this baby). She said it was Satan making me afraid and I should trust Jesus.  I thought that was beautiful and true, and the timing was perfect.  We only talked like 90 seconds, but it was lovely and perfect.  

The tub was filling with water, and I told Matt to put the plastic sheet protector and clean sheet on the bed because I wanted to lay down for a few contractions.  Things were getting intense and I wasn't comfortable in the bathroom anymore, but wasn't ready to get in the tub.  

Melissa the midwife called back while I was in bed.  I found out later that she had been doing a get-to-know you meeting a potential client, so she'd left her cell phone with her student Ashley.  When they came out (but the couple was still there) she asked Ashley who had called. "It was Holly Harker.  She wanted you to know that her water has broken, and she'll keep you updated."  Melissa responded, "HOLLY HARKER?!?!  THAT'S THE 50 MINUTE LADY.  WE'VE GOTTA GOOOOOO!!"  They quickly said their goodbyes to the new couple, locked up the office, got in the midwifemobile, and decided to head out ("head out" get it? because she was coming to deliver a baby?!).  And luckily her office is only like ten minutes away. At this point, I will add that I totally did not expect another 50 minute delivery, but wise, experience Melissa knew.  

I didn't last very long on the bed and got into the birthing tub after like three contractions, which was probably like three minutes.  By the time Matt got back from dropping off the kids (which probably took about 90 seconds), I was far enough along that he I think he sort of started to panic (but just a bit).  Luckily, for the second time in a row, my hero of a husband reminded me to do low moaning to get through the pain.  This blessed technique is a real life saver to me.  He asked me if Melissa was on her way and I thought that I had clearly communicated "yes" via nodding, but I learned later that he hadn't picked that up and so he called Melissa.  I don't know what they were talking about, but I remember yelling out, "tell her they're double peaking" so she would know that things were progressing faster than I was expecting when we spoke on the phone.  I remember her asking if we wanted her to stay on the line, but I was like, "no, just get here as quick as you can."  

They got there pretty quick and it's a blurr for a bit.  I remember Ashley walked in and I told her she was in charge of videoing the birth.  And I feel like I was calm, so maybe transition was over at this point?  I don't know.  I remember Melissa was going to do a cervical check and she told me I needed to move and I though "really? you can't just walk over to the other side of the tub were my bottom is?" but what she meant was I needed to flip over to be belly up in order for her to check.  I remember reaching down to feel the baby's head and telling Melissa that something was in the way (I was thinking maybe some cervical lip) but she said there wasn't anything and we were all clear.  I remember telling them I was going to push out a poop and then I few minutes later, I was like, "why is this poop so hard to get out?!!!" and someone told me the poop had already come out and I was working on the baby now.  

Now this is where my memory clears up again.  I heard Matt say, "We are recording" and I said, "Oh, I don't think we're quite ready for that yet." (we have a five second video of that exchange) and then I heard the midwife quietly tell someone, "Yes, we ARE ready for that now." By the time the next video started, the head was already out.  And because of the videos, I can tell you the baby was in my arms four minutes after I said that it wasn't quite time to start filming. 

Come to find out, the thing I thought was some cervical lip was actually the ambilical cord.  That could have been an obstetric emergency, but luckily he head was never positioned in a way that cut off the circulation.  And luckily he was born super quick.  

I told Melissa during a follow-up appointment, "It seems like one fifty-minute delivery is a fluke, but two is a pattern."  She said that was about right.  And the crazy thing is, some babies will be born that quickly is they're in the perfect position, but both of my boys were not only in subpar positions, each of them had his hand up by his face when he was born.  So, for we to give birth so quickly twice under such circumstances is really quite something.  

But, back to the birth.  Out came this beautiful, skinny, vernix-y baby with a full head of dark hair, just like his daddy.  He started nursing right away, and knowing what I know now, I could tell immediately that he was tongue-tied.  (the midwife took a little snip off before she left and we got it all the way fixed on his third day of life).  We moved tothe bed and started working on delivering the placenta (which in some ways is worse than delivering the baby).  I knew that if I stood up and squatted during a contraction, it would come right out.  But, he was nursing and I didn't want to interupt him (especially due to my fear mentioned above that he wouldn't feel bonded to me).  Eventually he finished nursing, and Dad took the baby and I had a contradaction and stood up by the side of my bed where the midwives had prepared a little area and I pushed out the placenta.  And seriously, in that moment, I felt the weight of the world come off of my shoulders "It's finished! I did it!!!" Oh my gosh, I was so happy.  

With one thing and the other, it was 9:00 before the midwives left and the kids came over with Grandma and Grandpa to see the baby.  

(this photo is actually from a few days later)

The next day was delightful.  This was my first baby where Matt didn't have to start going to classes and working on homework the very day that the baby was born.  I got spoiled all day long and just sat in bed with the baby.  I don't think I left our master suite all day.  The kids came once to visit, and then went home with Grandma.  

The next day was appointment day.  Melissa came for a follow-up at noon.  We went to see the pediatrican at 2:00 and then to see the pediatric dentist to fix the tongue tie.  Tom and I were both worn out, but Matt took good care of us.  

Tom, we are so glad you were born!!!!

  

March 2016 (and eight months before that)

[Editor's Note: it is now July 2017.  It looks like I started, but didn't finish this post back in March 2016.  I'm just going to publish it as-is now.  Looks like some good memories.]

Adele likes holding the baby any chance she gets

And to compare and contrast, here's a picture of me (Holly) about two years old, holding my new baby brother

This next photo captured one of the most profound moments of my life.  I three days postpartum and feeling pretty awful.  I was tired, and my bottom hurt and my nipples hurt, and Adele was screaming and I was feeling sad, when all of the sudden, I realized that I had TWO children and a wonderful husband and all of my dreams had come true.  Then I had Adele come sit on my lap with the baby, and I had Matt take a picture.

Being a big sister is exhausting!

 Matt cuddling the baby

 Me cuddling the baby 

The baby resting from all that cuddling (Day 5)

Ivar's first time on the play mat (Day 10).  Adele wanted to get in on the action too.

First Bath (Day 12)

Adele was VERY excited to help

Adele enjoying her birthday bubble machine.  It's still a favorite eight months later.

 The quintessential "eating olives" photo
(July 26)

 In the midst of having a new baby, we also had to re-do the master suite in our rental house.  

New carpet and paint.  Not how I would have chosen to spend my time those first few weeks, but it had to be done.

My new favorite photo of me.  Thank you, Heather!

 Again, worn out being a big sister

(Aug 2, 2015)