It's Okay!

I love lists. Grocery lists, to-do lists, packing lists - I like making them in my head, writing them down, checking them off. Sometimes I even add things to my to-do lists that I know I’m about to finish, just to have the satisfaction of marking through them. There’s just something about visually seeing all you’ve accomplished. I also enjoy other people’s lists. David Letterman’s Top Ten used to be a nightly favorite when I could stay awake that late. ESPN’s Power Rankings are something I look forward to every week during basketball season. Lists provide humor and wisdom in a short, concise format that I appreciate. One of the lists I love the most is the "Hey, it's okay..." list in Glamour magazine. I love thinking, "Someone else does/thinks that? I'm not crazy after all!" Below is my own post-pregnancy list. Enjoy!

HEY, IT'S OKAY...

To spend an entire day of maternity leave in your pajamas. Or five. 

To be secretly disappointed that your stomach didn't return to it's pre-pregnancy state immediately following delivery.

For your Christmas wish list to consist of one word...SLEEP. 

To realize at about 11:00PM that the only thing you've accomplished that day is memorizing your baby's face as you watch her sleep. 

To have not the slightest clue as to what day, week, or even month it is at any given moment. 

To discover that you only need about half of the things you registered for and a lot more of the things you didn't. 

To force a bow on her head any time you leave the house. Who knows where those "Gerber Baby" scouts may be lurking!?

To have an inexplicable, sudden need for an SUV to transport your giant family of 3.

To stare at her adoringly while she's sleeping in her crib, then duck down at the slightest indication that she's waking up.

To dread going back to work more every day, even if you love your job.

For your phone background to change from your puppy to your baby right away. And your screensaver. And your profile picture. And your...

To consider a day that includes showering, fixing your hair, putting on makeup, and wearing actual shoes a success.

To realize that you've found your life's purpose wrapped in God's tiny miracle. And for you to be wrapped around that tiny miracle's finger already. :-)

A Baby Story

I can't believe it has been 3 1/2 weeks since I met my precious baby girl. I can't believe that I have failed to blog about this blessed news for 3 1/2 weeks either! One thing I've found out rather quickly: motherhood (or should I say sleep deprivation) makes you lose all sense of time and reason in those first few weeks. Nevertheless, she is HERE. I have had several women that have never had a baby ask me for the REAL story of birth. Not the "Oh, you forget it all the minute you see her," or the "It's not that bad once you get the drugs." I'm going to tell it like it is for those women, the ones that are where I was a few weeks ago...anxious, uncertain, and terrified of the unknown. (If REAL grosses you out, please feel free to stop reading here and just scroll down to her cute picture)! Thankfully, this story has a happy ending...

12:10AM November 19th.
I woke up to go to the bathroom for the millionth time (nothing new there), but this time it was a little different. There was clear liquid running down my leg. I knew immediately that it was time. I calmly woke up Erik and told him that I thought my water had broken, then called my doula (I will write another blog about the doula experience later). I had planned to labor at home for as long as possible, but for some reason as soon as that happened I wanted to go to the hospital. I wanted to know how far along I was after being stuck at a 0 for weeks and weeks. I had this crazy notion that I was going to be at a 5 or 6 when we got there. Little did I know...

1:30AM
 We arrived after packing our bags and taking care of the pooches. They put me into a gown, checked me (I was a fingertip), and I started walking up and down the halls. At this point the contractions were very manageable, probably 5 minutes apart and 30 seconds long. My doula walked with me and we talked, occasionally stopping to breathe through a particularly bad one. After I tired of walking we tried lots of different positions. I even tried to sleep! The worst part was having to be still while they monitored me for 20 minutes every hour when moving around felt so much better. When I figured out how much a warm shower helped, they had to DRAG me out of it to be monitored. I felt very in control of my body and the pain during those long hours. I just knew that at my next check I would be an 8 and ready to have her. I would stun everyone with my practically effortless, in control labor.

8:00AM
Dr. Wonka came in to check me. He delivered the reality check...I was a ONE. A freaking ONE! I immediately started to tear up because I knew that he would make me start pitocin. If you aren't progressing, they make you do this because you have to have your baby within 24 hours of your water breaking. All I had heard was that once you start pitocin, you HAVE to have an epidural due to the pain. Even now I cannot tell you why I was so against having one. I'm not really scared of needles or anything. I guess I had just heard so many horror stories about epidurals gone wrong, and nothing but benefits from NOT having one, that I just didn't want one.

8:30AM
They started the pitocin drip. Once they do that, you have to be monitored at all times which means you can no longer walk around. This made controlling the pain much harder. The contractions immediately got worse. They were more intense and closer together. I started crying and wallowing all over the bed, trying to escape the pain somehow. It's amazing how fast pride leaves you during labor. I had no shame at this point.

11:00AM
By this time I was completely out of my mind. The pain from the ever-increasing pitocin dosage had taken over everything. I was loud and hard to keep still. I'm sure the nurse wanted to request a different patient, preferably one who was sleeping. The contractions were coming so close together that I could NOT get any rest. All I wanted to do was close my eyes for just a few minutes. It was around this time when the nurse informed me that I was a 4-5. I started to really cry then. I had been laboring for almost 12 hours and I was only a 4!!! I was starting to give up. I wanted the drugs. Just as I was praying to God for strength, there was a huge gush. This was my water breaking FOR REAL. Evidently, before it had only been a leak from a small tear in the sac. I immediately started throwing up and the pain started changing to more of an intense pressure. The nurse checked me again and I was a 7. I told her that I felt like pushing. She looked extremely alarmed and told me NOT to push. That at only a 7 I could do some serious damage if I did. I was confused...my body was telling me to push! I concentrated for the next hour or so on NOT pushing.

12:00PM
Finally, I looked at the nurse with crazy, bleary eyes and screamed, "SHE IS COMING!!" I couldn't stop pushing and I knew that the nurse was wrong! She checked me and immediately called Dr. Wonka because I was a 10! I had to again wait to push until he got there. This was one of the hardest parts of the whole labor. It goes against every instinct and it is quite painful to defy nature. When he finally got there, I was ready! I could feel EVERYTHING. I was not numbed, drugged, or deadened in any way. It was the most excruciating, liberating pain I have ever felt. I wanted to meet her! I wanted the pain to stop! Those two thoughts alternated in my head as I pushed. For the next 20 minutes, I was the woman in the movies who you can hear screaming down the hall. The one who makes other moms-to-be cross their legs and will their babies to stay inside...yup. That was me. At 12:38PM our little Addison Claire was born. 

That one sentence ends the story in the happiest way imaginable. She was healthy, weighing 7 pounds and  7 ounces, measuring 22 1/2 inches, and filling her mom's heart. Her arrival did NOT make me forget the pain. I remember every second of it (obviously). But I survived the pain. And to anyone out there wondering if they can labor without pain medicine (especially while on pitocin)...if I can do it, trust me, so can you. Just concentrate on the ending to YOUR story.

CONFESSIONS OF A FIRST-TIME MOM-TO-BE

I have to admit, being pregnant has not been at all what I expected. I'm going to confess some things in hopes that I can help other first-time moms-to-be not feel so alone in their thoughts, trying very hard not to cross the line into complaining (or at least tempering it with humor). I still remember the sensitivity advice I was handing out not too terribly long ago.

CONFESSION #1: I have had and am still having a really hard time coming to grips with my changing body. I never realized how tied up part of my self-esteem was in being somewhat in shape. Watching my stomach grow each week was something I thought would be so incredible; instead I’ve stopped looking in mirrors, stopped shopping for clothes, stopped feeling attractive altogether. It makes me feel horrible even admitting it. I know I'm not alone in this as I have talked to other women about this very thing, but it's something rarely spoken aloud. I have really had to make a conscious effort to try to embrace the changes, to accept compliments, to accept myself. Who knew that being pregnant would bring about such self-reflection?!

CONFESSION #2: I am beyond scared about going into labor. Not just a tiny bit. We're talking straight terrified. I decided years ago that if/when God allowed me to have a baby, that I would have it naturally. This does not help my fear. I think that for the most part I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but I've seen way too much television to think that it's going to be easy. I have a doula, a birth plan, a competent (if horribly unsympathetic) OB, and a wonderfully supportive husband, but still the anxiety not only lingers but increases daily. Today I found out that as of week 39 nothing has changed - no dilation, no dropping, nothing. The thought of having to be induced and abandon the plans we've made is disheartening and scary. People love to share their horror stories, as well as those of their sister's best friend's cousin's daughter, which does nothing to relieve the apprehension.

CONFESSION #3: I have turned into a symptom googling, webmd-ing obsessor. Every twinge, every pain, every anomaly leads me straight to my laptop in search of validation or at least some explanation which may or may not alleviate my concerns. At least half the time I am forced to then google other symptoms or complications...it's a never-ending circle of searches. In my defense, I have NO idea what labor is going to be like, so every new sensation has me wondering if this is "it", if the time has finally arrived. I wonder if gestational hypochondria is a “thing”?

CONFESSION #4: Carrying a baby is NOT easy (at least not for me). I have seen so many women sail through pregnancy - a glowing, walking billboard to future mothers everywhere: “This is easy. Pregnancy looks beautiful on everyone. I am the happiest I’ve ever been.” I am hereby suing such women for false advertising. ;-) I am not the glowing type (unless I’m sweating from the exertion of walking across the room) and can only claim happiness during every fifth mood swing. And no, I’m not experimenting with new makeup; those are natural black circles under my eyes from trying to sleep with a bowling ball strapped to my belly. Seriously though, it is hard. I am so beyond thankful for this miraculous experience, but I would be remiss in pretending that the years of longing for it have lessened its difficulty.

CONFESSION #5: I cannot even think of a word powerful enough to convey my desire to be the best mom I can be, but lately the thought of failure keeps me up at night. I know I will make mistakes. I know that at some point I will hear someone say, “When I have kids I/they will never…” while looking at me pointedly, judging me as I parent my child. I myself have done that very thing. I know that there will come a time when my precious daughter will declare her hatred for me over some unjust punishment I have decided upon. I don’t consider things like that to be failures. No, the things that make me toss and turn are much more complicated. Parents leave a legacy, whether they want to accept that responsibility or not. I just want to make sure I’m leaving a positive one. I don’t come from an affectionate family; my friends always like to joke about my disdain for being touched. Will she get the love and affection that she needs to feel valued and self-confident, not seeking validation from the things of this world? Education is one of the most important things to me…will she value it, try hard in school, share a love of learning? Or will it be a daily struggle just to do her homework, a fight over something I hold in such esteem? Will I be an example of a Godly woman that she aspires to be like someday? Or will I make so many mistakes that she vows NEVER to be like me instead? I know that these are things unforeseeable, and that all I can do is my best. I know I will be spending a lot of time on my knees during her childhood, praying not just for her, but perhaps more importantly, for the betterment of myself.    

There you have it, just a few confessions from a nervous, excited, anxious, and sometimes irrational mom-to-be. I find it comforting that no matter how outrageous we think our feelings are, there is always someone somewhere experiencing the exact same thing. Hearing my thoughts echoed in the sentiment of another’s words is always comforting to me (and makes me feel a little more sane). Here’s hoping my thoughts will reassure another in the upcoming days.

Time Marches On...

Time. Time is a tricky thing. It is a rare constant, always moving forward at the same rate, and yet at any given moment to any given person, it feels varying, wavering, fluctuating. Never the same and yet always the same. It is unfeeling, without empathy, and impartial. A best friend or a worst enemy, or even both at the same time, a double-edged sword.  

Addison's birth is the most anticipated event of my life. When I think of holding her, seeing her, becoming a mother, time seems to stand still, even move backwards, days dragging into weeks. However, when I think about labor, giving birth, the fear of the unknown, the seconds speed by. I can't even seem to catch my breath. 

I believe our relationship with time is never more complex than when grieving a loss. My grandmother just went to be with the Lord a few hours ago. What my family wouldn't give to rewind time, stop it, selfishly keep her here with us a few more days. But as those closest to her saw her suffering, time was mercilessly slow.

Addison's entrance into this world coinciding with my grandma's departure of it is an example of time's cruelest paradox. My beautiful baby girl will never know her precious great-grandmother and my grandma never got to see me have a child of my own. I can only pray that Addison's addition to our family will be a bit of healing for us all. Even though I have lost someone who played a major role in so many memories, I will be forever thankful that I have them, and know that they will shape many of the new traditions we will make with Addison.

I am the world’s guiltiest when it comes to looking forward to events and wishing away the time in between. In these last few weeks before Addison comes, my grandma’s passing reminds me of how important it is to embrace every moment as it comes. I want to enjoy this time with Erik before our worlds are turned upside down in the best way. Time and life are synonymous. I don’t want to take even a second for granted; those seemingly meaningless, simple moments are when life happens, or passes you by if you’re not paying attention. My grandma is leaving behind such a remarkable legacy and has taught me many valuable lessons; I’m so grateful to be a recipient of this one.    

Undeserving

I spent 3 years avoiding blogs exactly like what this one is becoming. Blogs filled with babies and nurseries and sunshine...ick. That is why I have been hesitant in posting too many pictures of those very things on this blog. I know most people who read it are wanting to keep up with our story and are so excited for us, but I also know that I have been contacted by many who are still going through their struggles with infertility and miscarriage and so I am reluctant to constantly highlight my happiness.

There is a strange, comforting sense of solidarity when you come across someone that has experienced your type of heartache. Losing a baby or babies is not something ANYONE can comprehend unless they have gone through it. The excitement that suddenly turns into soul-crushing news, the daily struggles with faith, the excrutiating self-blame, the fear that it will happen again. It's just impossible to put into words that are sufficient enough. That's why for some, I know that although they are rejoicing with us, there is a sense of something bittersweet. Because even though I have gone through the hard times, my found happiness leaves behind unspoken questions. Questions that I asked myself on many sleepless nights when another struggling friend would start her own healthy pregnancy journey. Questions that sound ridiculous to outsiders, but line the wounded hearts of those in the thick of the pain. Why is this happening to me? When is it my turn? Will my husband still love me if I can't give him children? Maybe if I just do _____ for God? Why doesn't He answer my prayers? Will I EVER hold a baby of my own? Why her and not me? What have I done wrong?

I cannot answer those questions even now. My prayers have been answered, but I don't deserve it anymore than anyone else. I shudder when people say that to me."You and Erik deserve it!" It pierces the very heart of women who are looking for any reason why they are suffering. It seems to imply that the childless somehow don't deserve that blessing or are to blame, and that's just not true. I don't know why God has allowed me to have a healthy pregnancy thus far. I am thankful beyond belief, but I still hurt with those I know mask a pain behind their excitement. I do intend to post some pictures and continue the happy baby blogs, but I have felt compelled to let everyone know that I do it not to be insensitive, but to offer proof that God does indeed answer prayers and work miracles. We are His instruments, created to glorify Him in both our joy and strife. Believe me, not a moment of this complicated and heart-breaking 3 year journey has been wasted or lost on me. I pray daily for those of you still struggling: that you will keep the faith, that God will pour into your hearts while you wait on His timing, and that someday soon He will bless you with your very own little miracle.

Life Lessons According to Zooey

I've caught A LOT of flak for bringing home a new puppy whilst pregnant, I have to admit. Erik did say that he wanted this monster for his birthay, but I'm not entirely sure that he meant it after all. She wakes us up at all hours of the night, wants to nap only after we're wide awake, makes messes, puts everything in her mouth, terrorizes her older "sister", and pretty much just keeps us in a constant state of vigilance...you know, pretty much just like a baby...only with four legs and a fur coat! It was actually a genius move for me to bring her home right now (mental pat on the back) - what better preperation for November?!! We are having a lot of fun with her too of course, and she has also reminded us of some valuable lessons that we tend to forget in the course of our now-more-hectic lives.

Lesson #1: Make sure to always pose and look your best when there's a camera around! You never know who might post your picture!

Lesson #2: A friend by your side makes every moment sweeter.

Lesson #3: A nap in the middle of the day? A necessity in this sweltering Oklahoma heat!

Lesson #4: A walk a day keeps the doctor away. Oh, and looking fashionable while you do it doesn't hurt.

Lesson #5: When you REALLY want something, don't let any obstacle stand in your way, no matter how big it seems. 

Gender Reveal

A gender reveal party? Up until a couple of months ago, I had never heard of such of a thing either; something I have in common with most of our invitees and the general public. Our reveal party is not a request for gifts, not a desire for the spotlight, but a celebration. A celebration of this miracle that we have been entrusted with, a tribute to our families that have shed so many tears for us, fervently prayed for us, and rejoiced whole-heartedly in our blessing. I can't think of a better reason in the world to throw a party; the gender suprise is just the icing "in" the cake. Below are some pictures of the party, along with THE REVEAL! More pictures to come...

 Girl...or Boy???

 Votes are boy heavy!

 BABY JEOPARDY...Team Boy vs. Team Girl. Team Boy won!

 IT'S A GIRL!!!!!!!!! ADDISON CLAIRE