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 25th,
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 10th
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 3rd
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 4th, but whenever anyone asked, I would say the due date,
but then add that it would probably be more like March 14th or 15th. 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 1st
“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 3rd
“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.
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