Reese and Molly. Birth Story.

It's a story worth coming back after an almost 1-year blog break to tell ...

My pregnancy with Reese and Molly was so textbook I was sure I would make it to at least 36 weeks before going into labor. Little did I know that the girls, perhaps scheming with Riley was anxious to have them come out, had other plans.

A day short of 32 weeks, in the wee morning hours the day after Ryan’s first day of school, my water started leaking. After convincing the OB on call that I was not just losing bladder control, I set out to the hospital assuming I'd return in a couple hours. It was kind of embarrassing leaving a watery trail from the door to the front desk, where I rather conspicuously stuffed a towel down my pants so the janitor wouldn't have too much clean up. After getting up to a room, the nurse quickly confirmed that I was leaking amniotic fluid (after taking a sample from the puddle on the floor) and told me that I wouldn't be leaving until the girls were born. The OB visited and confirmed that I would be on bed rest at the hospital until 34 weeks (if I made it to 34 weeks), at which time they would induce labor because the potential complications of infection begin to outweigh the possible complications of preterm birth.

The thought of a 2-week hospital stay was overwhelming, but I didn't want the girls to come at 32 weeks so that's what I was hoping for. The docs thought that if I made it past the first 48 hours without going into labor, then I’d probably make it to 34 weeks. Those first 48 hours were a mix of phone calls to schedule childcare, tying up loose ends as best I could, visitors (both expected and unexpected), cable TV shows I never watch, and evening visits from my family. But no labor. It wasn't until day 4 that contractions started.

I arrived at the hospital early on a Wednesday morning, and that Sunday I awoke about 3 in the morning to serious but not too strong contractions about 10 minutes apart. They decided to transfer me back to Labor & Delivery, where I got an IV and the girls got continuous heart monitoring. (I love those monitoring belts ... especially two at once!). By 7, the contractions had picked up to between 3 and 5 minutes apart and I called Ryan. We figured we'd meet our girls that day. But by the time Ryan arrived, the contractions were back to 10 minutes apart and they were losing intensity.

The rest of that day, contractions came and went, but were never as close or as intense as they were that morning. We ate meals, did a crossword puzzle, tried to figure out what Reese's middle name would be, and talked about whether Ryan should go into work the next day (a Monday). By dinner time, I was having only light contractions every now and then. The OB said they may come and go for days. I was just hoping they would come during the day rather than the middle of my night again. But no, the same thing happened that night.

I woke up around 1am this time with contractions about 10 minutes apart again. Again, they hooked me up to fetal monitoring and again the contractions seemed to be getting closer together. But by 6, when I called Ryan, they had slowed back to 10-12 minutes apart and we figured the same thing would happen as happened the day before. Ryan went to work.

For the next few hours, the contractions held steady at around 10 minutes apart. Sometimes they'd get closer for a while, but then they'd lengthen out again. Ryan checked in and I told him that I wasn't making much progress. We both remembered my labor with Riley, which was 42 hours, and assumed that things wouldn't happen too quickly. If things ramped up, Ryan would certainly have enough time to leave school and be there for the last, most intense, part of labor, right?

Around 10, contractions picked up again, but not as intensely as the previous morning. My OB came by about 30 minutes later and decided to check my dilation (since I'd been laboring off and on for so long). I was 5 centimeters. This isn't going to turn around, she said, I'm calling the anesthesiologist. (I was planning an epidural because Molly (the upper one) was breach and we wanted to try a breach extraction with her.) You need to call Ryan, she said. While I still didn't feel like we were in the end stages of labor, the looked on her face was sobering and I called Ryan to tell him to come to the hospital.

While the anesthesiologist and I talked, I only stopped a couple times to breathe through a contraction. I didn't think we'd meet our babies until that evening. After he left, my contractions really ramped up.

I don't remember much of the next 15 minutes. Ryan was on his way and I was just trying to get through contractions. Nurses were trying to keep the monitors on the babies so we'd know if their heart rates started to slow.

Ryan got there just a couple minutes before they wheeled me to the OR (hospital procedure for twin deliveries because of the higher risk of emergency c-section). They asked him to wait outside while they set up. I was feeling a lot of pressure, like I needed to push, but there hadn't been time to get the epidural and my OB was still hoping to give it to me because of the breach extraction. Despite her best attempts to slow labor, we quickly realized that Reese was not waiting for the epidural. Ok, she said, this baby's coming now. They let Ryan in just as I was starting to push. In a few minutes, Reese was born, at 11:12 (less than 45 minutes after I'd called Ryan).

The anesthesiologist still hoped to give me something between the deliveries so that we could do the breach extraction if Molly didn’t flip when Reese came out. But I was losing too much blood and my OB didn't want to wait. Do you want to try the extraction anyway? she asked. It was either that or a c-section, so I said yes.

She and her partner took turning sticking their hands in to try to find Molly's feet so that they could guide her out feet down. Time and time again, they could only find one. Finally, after almost 10 minutes, I said I needed a break. There was a pause. We need to do a c-section, she said. We need to get her out.

While I really didn’t want a c-section, I also didn’t know if I could handle any more hands in my uterus. My OB knew how much I wanted a vaginal birth, so I figured she’d tried as hard as she could and my blood loss was just too much to continue trying for the extraction.

So they prepped me for a c-section.

Sheets covered me, the OB had her knife, and the anesthesiologist said he was 10 seconds away from putting me under when I felt a little pressure and pushed. I think she just came out, I said. Wait, said one of the nurses, she said she thinks the baby's out. Someone quickly lifted the sheets. She is! Do I need to push again?, I asked. One more push, she said. So I did, and Molly squirted the rest of the way out. She’d come out butt first and sack intact, saving me from major surgery and weeks of recovery. (Too be fair, Reese had also saved me from a c-section by flipping head-down the previous week after a few chiropractor visits.)

Reese and Molly had to stay in NICU for almost 4 weeks, but they never needed a respirator or other interventions that most 32 week babies need. They were and are amazingly healthy and strong.

With Riley, I had planned a natural birth, and didn’t get it. With Reese and Molly, I planned an epidural, and didn’t get it. It’s quite a reminder that our bodies have a wisdom all their own and our children have minds all their own. My girls remind me of the second every day, and will probably need to continue to do that for some time, for I am a slow learner.

Thank you girls for most memorable births. You are amazing. Thank you for letting me feel amazing by bringing you into this world.

Our Baby

At 10 weeks, our baby should have had ears, elbows, toes, and a beating heart. I don’t know if our baby had any, all, or none of those, but something must have been wrong because we lost our littlest child a month ago today. I wish I could have heard her beating heart (Ryan and I both thought it was a girl). I wish I could have known whether I lost a son or daughter. But I never will.

I miss things that were months away from happening: birthing her, seeing his or her face for the first time, nursing her, introducing Riley to her little brother or sister, cuddling on the bed with Ryan and our two kids and feeling amazed at the little family God created for us. And now part of that family will always be missing.

Even though I trust that there is reason behind miscarriage, I will forever miss meeting one of my children. When someone asks, “How many kids do you have?,” I will say one and think two. And I’m sure a moment of hesitation and sadness will flash across my face, and if they see it they won’t understand. But I will, for the umpteenth time remember the child I never got to meet and feel the scar that was left when my baby died.

Baby 2

Thoughts on my second pregnancy ...

1. It's WAY better to NOT be surprised by that second blue line. Makes for a much less emotional first trimester. I can focus most of my energy on managing my tired body rather than my going-crazy mind.

2. 1st trimester yuckiness is much better managed by real food, including lots of raw milk, instead of lots of packaged food simply because it's quick and easy to cook. I definitely feel better this time around.

3. But, that could also be because NOT working is WAY better than working during pregnancy. Not that I'm not working. I'm taking care of the Bean every day and usually subbing one day/week as well. But still, naps are important. Very important. And now I get one almost every day.

4. Like all one-kid moms say, I can't imagine loving another child as much as I love Riley, but I'm so excited to meet him or her (hopefully there's just one). If they're half as interesting as the one dancing down the hall with toilet paper right now, I'll be a crazy lucky mama.

5. I feel like there's something about the second that's going to transport me into a whole other level of being a mom. It's still pretty easy to balance being a mom of one pretty easy kidlet with other things I enjoy. I still get predictable breaks during the day. I'm not outnumbered. But with another one, I think parenthood will feel like a bigger, more consuming part of my life. I will be MOTHER. Ryan will leave to teach in September and I'll be at home all day with a 6 week old and 2 year old. And that kind of mothering I am unprepared for, and honestly a bit frightened by.

Day 3

It's Day 3 of my new stay-at-home motherhood. It has not been without internal conflict. While I am truly happy with my decision, I also miss my teaching job. But here's a few beautiful things I would have missed were I at school - Riley laying her head on my slipper for a little snuggle when she got tired because the fabric feels like her sleeping blanket. Her putting tennis balls under the couch because she thought it was hilarious when I put my head to the ground to look for them. Her tickling my feet when she wanted attention. These lovely little things make me quickly forget about my 6th graders, who, while amazing people, are much less adorable then my little 14-month-old. It's been a gift to be with her so much lately. Love her!

To moms, for laughs

To other moms - You have to check this out. What's your favorite? Mine's a tie between the Hands Baby Pillow and the Plush Pee and Poo. Seriously???

the Pill

My current assignment for the children's writing program is to write a nonfiction article, so I've been paying more attention to those kind of pieces lately. This one sparked some interest. The first medicine to be regularly given to people who weren't sick? I didn't know that. I wonder how many more we've created since then.

Lady Madonna

Check out this Time article. Nothing new, but it's an interesting compilation of facts and stories.
I wonder what the connection is between the ideas in this article and the fact that women seem to have an easier time listening to their baby cry (during sleep training, for example) than their husbands do. Ideas?

Mother Nature

After one of the most mother naturely mothers I know send me this article because my babe's sick right now, I got to thinking about the term Mother Nature and how we mothers really ought to be more in turn with how our bodies and our babies bodies naturally work.

Too often we think of nature as something separate from our bodies. Nature is the trees, grass, and beautiful flowers (which sometimes, contrary to logic, make us sick with allergies). But we are part of nature too and, along with the honey bee and the rose, we have been made with incredible, natural defense mechanisms that our body uses to protect itself. I'm just beginning to understand how often pharmaceutical medicines undermine these natural defense mechanisms. Fevers are good, even protective? What? I shouldn't just give her tylenol when she gets and over 101 degree fever like my pediatrician says? Hmmm. (Check out the article.)

We mothers, who have birthed bodies from our own, have quite a responsibility to care for those little bodies in ways that keep them whole. In The Unsettling of America, Wendell Berry notes that the world health belong to a family of words including heal, whole, wholesome, hale, hallow, and holy. I think that's pretty important to remember. I want to help her little body work in the most natural way possible, the way God made it to work. I want to better listen to Mother Nature, but oh there's so many other voices to filter out.

Got Breast Milk?

I'm not a bumper sticker person. I generally think they're a weird way of attempting to share your opinion. No one asked. It's just you (or them) sharing your (or their) opinion without the possibility of conversation, which I think is kinda weird. However, I quite enjoyed this particular bumper sticker. I'm pretty sure I waved and yelled, "I do!" And, it reminded me of something I read lately that I wanted to share because I thought it was so beautifully cool.

From Nina Planck's Real Food:
"In one of nature's many elegant efficiencies, the antibodies in breast milk are targeted to the pathogens in the mother and baby's immediate environment; they are tailor-made for the baby."

Isn't that amazing! Aside from the fact that there are over a hundred ingredients in breast milk (that the formula industry simply cannot duplicate), that the ratio of protein to fat to carbs is perfect (at least in a well-fed mom), and that it creates a profound bond between the mom and baby, the fact that God made us able to supply our babes with the perfect pathogens for our dirty, little homes (or perhaps not-so-dirty in the case of other mother's homes :) ) is, I believe, amazingly wonderful.

Got breast milk?

Pause Button

I want a remote control for life at this moment. I want to pause her as she plays on the floor, clapping together little wooden blocks, rocking back and forth to the music, and making her own sounds as if to sing along. She studies the dots on the bottom of an animal. She puts it in her mouth and makes a face ... I used to like this? it seems to say. She looks at me and smiles, leans for the computer and giggles when I pull it away. She goes back to her rocking and clapping. She is perfect and beautiful, and I look at her knowing that this is a perfect moment together. There will be many moments that are not so perfect, moments that are painful and sad. I wish I could rewind to this moment or fast-forward through those. But I can't. And I know why, but it doesn't make the longing for a pause button any less.

A Day at Home

There is no school today and I'm at home with my babe. At the moment, she's squealing like a little piglet, alternating the squeal with her other favorite sound, the pucker spit, which showers the area in baby saliva. I didn't realize how much I would like just hanging out with her for the day. We're going to swim, run errands, take naps (her), prep some food for the weekend (me), and roll around on the ground and make funny noises together. I'm looking forward to it.
Hope you have/had a fun day too!
Us

In Oprah!

Like millions of other women, I get Oprah magazine. Yes, there are fashion tips I think are ridiculous and dozens of products I will never try, but I often find a few articles that are thought-provoking and, at times, even well-written. And it's way better than most other magazines for women.

I have never written a letter to the editor, but I did after reading an article and interview with Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love) in the last Oprah issue. And today, while reading this month's issue, I thought to myself, Now this seems really familiar. It was my letter to the editor! I had totally forgotten. Being excited about getting a letter to the editor published in Oprah is probably kinda dorky, but I'm kinda dorky.

Gilbert was being interviewed because of her new book, Committed. In short, it's her story of confronting her fears and stereotypes of marriage after being "sentenced to matrimony" with her Brazilian boyfriend in order for him to reenter and live in the US. She was very articulate about how marriage, though hard, is beautiful because of it's ability to refine our understanding of ourselves and our ability to truly love and accept another. So I was surprised to read her view on motherhood. She was asked about her grandmother, who cut up her favorite coat in order to make clothes for her first daughter because money was so short. Gilbert's response was, "That's the story of motherhood, in a large way. You take the thing that is most precious to you, and you cut it up and give it to somebody else who you love more than you love the thing. And we tend to idealize that, and I'm not sure we should. Because the sacrifice that it symbolizes is also huge." How narrow-minded, I thought. I was bothered by her one-dimensional view of mothering, especially in light of her multi-dimensional view of marriage.

So here's what I wrote:

I enjoy Elizabethe Gilbert's candor and the way she openly receives life. So I was surprised to read her negative view of mothering. As a new mother, I'm realizing that parenting, like marriage, is an opportunity to learn how to better love and respect myself. Though parenting is complicated an deeply difficult (again - like marriage), it presents another crossroads in life where we have to struggle with who we really are and what is truly important to us. Gilbert so quickly dismisses the beautiful messiness of mothering, but I think she would find it offers the same opportunities for growth as does her relationship with Felipe.

Thanks Oprah! And thanks Marianne! We're celebrating with your yummy oreo cookies tonight :)

Clapping

For those who know Riley, you know that she loves sounds. Snapping fingers make her laugh. Cell phone rings make her raise her eyebrows and turn excitedly to find one of her favorite technologies. The moment I pull up the e-brake and turn off the car, she starts to kick her legs and looks up at me in the rear-view mirror with an open-mouthed smile.

So it's exciting, for me and her, that my babe learned how to clap this week. Though her claps aren't making any sound yet, which sometimes seems to confuse her, they're claps nonetheless as she's putting her hands together open-fisted (or is it open-handed) for the first time. The best part is that when we return her claps with our own, the hugest smile breaks out and she looks thrilled with herself that she's somehow caused this great, fun event.

So many moms have told me to soak it up because it goes so fast, and I think I'm finally starting to understand, really understand, the truth of what they're saying. We visited my new nephew, Micah, last weekend, and I can hardly remember the little Bean when she was that young and small. I can hardly remember her before she could smile, before she could reach to grab my cell phone, before she could pull a book to her lap so that she could chew on the corner.

I feel the thick tension between wanting to remember the beautiful parts of her past and being fully present with her in the moment. I feel the need to organize the hundreds of pictures we've already taken and also to put down my camera to sit and play with her on the floor. I'm already telling stories that start with "Remember when she used to ... ?" while trying not to trap her in those memories but allow her to grow and change and surprise me. I'm sure this tension will only get stronger, but so, I hope, will my knowledge of who she is so that I can encourage her toward her future rather than ruminate in her past. But wow, the pull of the past is strong because the unknown of the future is too.