Nutrition 101

I am constantly in awe of my body.


As I now struggle to find enough to fill my own stomach I am even more impressed by my body's ability and wisdom to give Samuel exactly what he needs to survive and flourish.


Breast milk is amazing...  When I was refreshing my memory on milk storage I got to reading about it's traits.  It is antimicrobial.  Milk that has been in the fridge for eight days often has LESS bacteria than when it was first pumped.  Milk has circadian variations, which probably help babies to sleep longer at night.  Each mother's milk has antibodies specific to the mother and baby.  Also, it is very low in iron, since iron is an essential for bacterial infection...  When the baby's internal supply starts to diminish around 6 months the baby is ready for food!  On top of what it does inside a baby's body it is supremely helpful on the outside too!  It can be used to treat conjunctivitis (I've already used it on Sammy!), dermatitis, and insect bites and stings.  Last week it helped clear up his face after he developed a rash when lotion with milk was put on his skin.


At Sam's two-week check-up I mentioned dairy to his doctor.  Something in my body told me it was a problem.  After she assured me that it probably wasn't a problem: it's very rare, I went back to my hyper-dairy diet...  Within a few days it was clear something was really hurting Sam's tummy.  After less than a week of dairy-free living Sam went from all night grunting, squirming, and screaming to six hours of peaceful, beautiful sleep!  So, while breast milk IS amazing, there are some things your body just can't keep out of it for the sake of your baby, bovine proteins being on that list!


While I am desperate for a bite of yogurt and am daily tormented by the cheese Ben eats I will keep going.  I will do what I have to do to make clean and perfect milk for Sam, because on top of the amazing connection we are fostering and my deep love of single-handedly sustaining his life, breast milk is amazing enough for me to want to produce it just as long as is humanly possible.  I will figure out how to curb the nagging hunger and find things that make my tongue feel less deprived so that I can participate in one of God's most amazing, most perfect plans!

The Birth of Samuel Arthur

My water broke with Ben.  I can tell you exactly when I went into labor.  I can give you the exact time I hit 8 cm, when I went through transition, how long I pushed...  Neat, tidy, according to plan.  Sam came differently.

On Sunday, May 6th we didn't go to church.  I didn't feel up to sitting in a pew and, to be honest, I was grouchy.  I was pretty antsy all day.  I took a whole chicken out of the freezer to cook the next day and we went to Annapolis for Philly Cheese Steaks for dinner.  On the way home something made me even antsier...  After putting Ben down for bed I noticed that the contractions that had been coming every ten minutes, on the dot for three weeks were a little closer.  We timed them for about an hour and a half and they varied from six to eight minutes apart...  Not labor, but something.  We decided around 11:30 that we should go to sleep because labor would probably start in the morning.  At some point after midnight mom stuck her head in our room, she had heard us talking and wanted to know if she should change her flight (she was set to leave Monday afternoon), I told her I was probably going into labor In-The-Morning, if anything happened over night I'd let her know.

I couldn't get to sleep because I was so curious about the timing of the contractions...  They weren't any stronger than they had been in weeks before, but they were definitely doing something different.  I got up around 12:45 and folded laundry and picked up toys while I timed.  They were still inconsistent, but were varying from four to six minutes now.  At 1:30 I figured I only had a few hours before labor actually started so I went and laid down.  The only way I could sleep was if I had as much contact with John as possible...  Another sign, I thought, that labor was coming... In-The-Morning.  Over the course of the night I had to get up every twenty minutes or so to go to the bathroom.  I was well aware, every time, that I only had to go because I was mid-contraction.  I'm not sure how many I slept through.

Around four a.m. I had a contraction that startled me in its intensity when it woke me up...  I thought for a split second "labor is starting!"  But talked myself down and decided to sleep more, since I would be in labor.. In-The-Morning...  The next one though (I'm not sure about the intervals at this point) was so strong that when John touched me to ask if I was alright I jumped out of bed and assumed the most comfortable position I could come up with: half bent, leaning on the bed.  John asked me if I was in labor and the only response I could muster was to wave my hand and grunt.  I think he interpreted this as a "yes" because he got out of bed and asked what I wanted.  I brushed him off again until I could get upright, still leaning against the bed post.  I finally told him I wanted the bath.  When I got into the bath he asked if he had time to shower, "oh yeah, just make it quick!"  John showered, and watched me as I worked through some tough contractions.  When he got out I asked for my mom and told him to call the doctor, we'd be headed to the hospital soon.  Mom came in and kept me company while John went about getting everything in order.  Mom asked me if I was ready to get out a couple times (I have no idea how many contractions I had in that tub), but I just kept saying to wait for John.  He checked in on me once or twice before we were all ready to get in the car.  Just before he came to get me though I had to throw up...  The only time I had nausea during my labor with Ben was during transition just before pushing...  I thought to myself, "we might be calling an ambulance..." but when I looked up at mom to say it the look on her face was so delightfully horrified I decided to keep it to myself and just smiled!

John came in, got me out, toweled me off and noted that we may have waited too long!  I just said, "we're fine!"  I'm not sure what John was doing while I was waiting in the garage for him, but I did mention killing him a number of times while I had another few contractions that were tainted with the vague urge to push...  That man though, he can drive!  Thanks to the time of day (almost 5am) and his superb skills, I spent very little time cursing the little car and was only mildly worried about destroying the front passenger seat with birth.

We got to the hospital at five, on the nose and the ER receptionist very quickly got someone to wheel me upstairs while John signed me in.  I'm pretty sure she had visions of delivering a baby herself.  As the orderly wheeled me up to the nurses station in L&D I was able to tell them my name before I began a contraction...  It was actually very rewarding watching the chaos ensue as she yelled, "WE'RE ACTIVE!!" and nurses came out of the woodwork to get me to a room.  The room was an absolute blur as they tried to get a urine sample (no go), get a robe on me (absolutely not), and get me into the bed (only John was able to do that after I hid in the shower for a contraction, fearing the monitors they were about to strap to me).  One of the nurses asked me (mid-contraction) if I was planning on a natural birth anyway...  I said, "no.  Wait, what?"  John said, "yes."  As soon as they got me down and hooked up one of the nurses checked me:  Fully dilated, totally effaced, bags still intact.  Infinite questions (including "Do you feel the urge to push?" emphatic nod), several contractions, and a couple of tears later the doctor walked in.  NOT MY doctor (any of them), Dr. Hundley.  I recognized her immediately and cringed as I turned to John and whispered "I hate her!"  She checked me and found me to be at 9 cm.  I was not surprised, she had the power to make me want to stop my labor altogether, but John told me it would be fine and I had to will myself to totally ignore her presence so I could birth my son...  After just a minute or two I had done it.  It was like she wasn't there, and Sam very much was...  I told the nurse asking me all the questions, "he's coming."  She said, "it's ok, we've got some time."  After another question I told her I didn't want to push with the monitors on, she said she needed 30 minutes of tape...  When I looked her in the eye and said again, "HE'S COMING." the doctor came over to check me and said, "there's the head, I need an amnio hook!"  She broke my water (which was the best feeling I have ever had) and with hardly a push Samuel was born at 5:19!  I practically tore him out of the doctor's hands and we snuggled like I had been wanting to for WEEKS!  John and I were both shocked by how small he was.  We expected him to be much bigger than Benjamin since he had stayed in so much longer!

Sam nursed like a champion right away.  Despite that though I was bleeding more than is reasonable so had to get a shot of pitocin.  As she gave me the shot the nurse asked, "do you have ANY pain receptors in your body?"  I said, "you know, I'm not so sure..!"  As the room emptied and Sam nursed she stuck around to finish everything up.  She kept asking strange questions and I realized that what she really wanted to know was, "why did you wait so long to come in..?"  I began my story with "I woke up around four..."  She stopped me, "are you kidding?!"  I was not.  "Wow," she said, "that's the way to do it!"  When she took us over to Maternity you could see the amusement in her face as she covered our chart with the nursery nurse.  "We triaged at 5:15, baby was born at 5:19..."  "When did you go into labor?" she had the same question...  "I think around 4..."  "Awesome!"

It was awesome; different, more hectic than I would have liked, but awesome!  And the boy we got, he's just as amazing, just as beautiful and sweet as the one we got with our perfect birth plan. I wouldn't have changed a thing!  Except maybe the doctor, but she didn't do much anyway!

39 Weeks

My sweet, perfect Benjamin was born at 37 weeks and 4 days...  The second the nurse blurted out that stat I knew I would never forget it.  Thirty-seven weeks and four days...  Labor started spontaneously and went perfectly.  I could not have asked for a more amazing experience; I brought life into this world on my own, in good time, and in perfect order.

This One, this new little life who, I'm sure will be as amazing and enchanting as the last did not come at 37 weeks and 4 days.  He didn't come at 38 or 38 and 4 days...  I am sitting here, at 39 weeks shocked that I am still pregnant.  I know I know...  Forty weeks.  But he is big.  He is getting bigger and I am not.  I'm not worried that he is getting TOO big, that I will somehow be unable to assist him into the world on my own, but I would have liked to do that before he hit nine pounds.  Before I lost all feeling in my feet.  Before it became nearly impossible to turn over in bed or carry Ben up the stairs.

Mostly though, I'm tired of not holding him in my arms.  I want to see his face and touch his toes.  I am impatient to smell him and I'm trying to not let these anticipations ruin the last fleeting days we have as a family of three but I'm struggling...  We're all ready.  And I'm done!

Coffee Colored Venom & Penance

Wednesday was bad.

I had a chiropractor appointment and Benjamin was amazing. He was an angel. He obeyed, cooperated, stayed calm. I was SO proud of him. I told him, very much how proud I was as we walked to the car. I put him in the back seat and asked him to climb into his chair while I put the stroller away. Instead he clamored into the front seat... And fate stepped in.

There was a coffee in the center console cup-holder. It went right into the passenger seat. I opened the driver side door in time to watch the passenger seat gulp it down as Ben positioned himself in the driver's seat... I watched the coffee (complete with cream and sugar) come chugging out of the cup and felt the venom well up inside of me. The only thing I had to sop up what little I could was a small blanket, and because it was 22* out I couldn't take off my (new, lipstick red leather) gloves to try to make my (cursed, handicapped) fingers useful.

As the coffee disappeared into my new car the venom that was building pressure within me came chugging out like coffee from a styrofoam cup. Unlike the coffee I couldn't control, I could place this venom wherever I wanted. I chose my toddler. I sprayed hot, coffee-colored venom all over my precious boy in the form of screaming, yelling, throwing... And then silence. I called John so he could handle the logistics while I filled our drive home with silent, coffee-colored venom instead of the chatter, laughter, and singing that normally pervades our fresh-smelling car.

We got home and I did some screaming out of sight of that sweet boy before I got the call that we should bring the car right away to be cleaned. When I told my son that we were getting back into the car he lost it for the first time. He sobbed, "will hold you, please?! I need to stay home! We don't get in the car!"

We had a nice lunch with daddy. My car was thoroughly cleaned, inside and out, and so you'd think the venom would subside. It did not. The spewing continued throughout the hour and a half I tried to get him to nap (as if he could sleep in that sort of situation), and the evening until John got home, and even at bed time when he fought (just like he does every night) to not brush his teeth. I was a horrible person, a BAD mother that whole day. I could not sleep because I could not forgive myself.

I laid down in his crib after trying for over and hour to fall asleep. I lumbered, swollen belly first into that tiny space where Benjamin does his dreaming. I laid on my side in the half he was not taking up. He turned away from me, snuggle up to his pillow puppy and disconnected himself at every point of contact we had. I deserved this. I paid my penance. I silently cried as I prayed to God that he would not remember today, that the love I've shown him will make this a very tiny part of the picture he has of me. I begged God to protect his sweet little heart, to make me stronger and better, to give us time to recover from this venom. We laid there like that: he snuggling anything but me, my heart breaking as I stared at the back of his head for a long while.

Then he turned over. He flopped his whole body on top of mine and slid into the space in my bent arm that was made just for him. He put his hand on my face and went on sleeping, his little breaths lightly dusting my chin. Penance accepted. I don't know how long I laid there, long enough to get stiff. My bones cracked as a hoisted myself out of that little, deceptively sturdy crib. I felt better, almost healed.

Bed Rest

Thuesday I had a really good appointment with the oncologist. He said the questionable spots didn't look that bad, that he wanted to see me in eight weeks but I would probably get my natural birth! He didn't even take a biopsy. After I got up from my nap though, things started to go down-hill. I noticed when I woke up that I had more than usual discharge and that it was quite watery. I gave it two hours to change while I sat and addressed Christmas cards. When it didn't slow down or thicken I called my nurse. Being that it was 4:30 I didn't get a call back (NOT normal for my ob office), so about a quarter after five I called the after hours number. The RN gave me the advice you would give a woman in pre-term labor (although I had no pain and very minimal discomfort) and called my ob. She called me right back and told me to go to Labor and Delivery, Dr. Rojas would be waiting for me. A good friend picked up Ben, and John and I headed to the hospital, informing the family on the way. Once we got there the nurse realized they didn't have my early registration (they generally send it over around week 20 or 21) but Dr. Rojas walked up and noticed me and PUSHED to get me into a room with an ultrasound machine. He stayed right on top of the nurses to make sure things happened quickly! The first thing he did was the ultrasound. He was VERY happy with what he saw. We were also happy with what we saw... Baby was very active, his arms and legs were flying all over the place and he was kind of looking around! Yes, HE!! Once we saw everything was good on the ultrasound Dr. Rojas did an exam. Everything seemed to look good, but he did notice I had a bit more discharge than he'd expect. He got out the swab (the swab is bright yellow, if there is any amniotic fluid it turns dark blue), and much to his chagrin it turned bright blue... He didn't expect it to turn blue at all, but he had never even seen this particular shade before. He didn't see any pooling, or any liquid actually escaping... But he was still pretty uncomfortable. He took a slide to look at, but that was unhelpful too. When it came down to it, he didn't see a lot of evidence that I was actively leaking, but SOMEthing seemed to be off so he put me on modified bed rest until after my ultrasound this morning.

Things looked good again this morning and with everything back to normal I was taken off bed rest!! We didn't get any very good evidence of his manhood and not enough of a look at his heart so we will be going back in several weeks and hopefully I'll have shots worth sharing. Don't anyone hold out hope that there was a mistake though... This IS a boy! He was quite cooperative Tuesday evening (during his more active time of the day)... The printer just wasn't working!

So, there you have it. Our boy is healthy, strong-willed, and a night owl!

New One

There is a new One a-coming. I feel like the coming was not-so-joyously told, but I HATE telling people I'm pregnant! I like it better when they find out for themselves. I think the awkward part is watching that shift in their face, that change in their body language, and the demeanor flux that mirrors the way you'll be treated for the next x-number of months... Don't get me wrong. It's a good change. There is a sort of goddess aura that surrounds a pregnant woman, and the attention is quite positive and in a lot of cases, useful. But a change it is. And I hate change. I'd rather not witness it.

We are 18.5 weeks (and yes, that half makes a difference). I started feeling her move at 12 weeks, John around 15 or 16. My OB was a little startled this morning to actually feel and see her! We are saying "she" because we don't say "IT" and there are absolutely no similarities between this pregnancy and my first. Truth be told though, I wouldn't be shocked to find out next Thursday that she is a he... These little buggers are unpredictable, aren't they?!

Speaking of bugger, that boy is... TWO. You know what that means; and if you don't, you don't want to. We can't complain too much though, he's the best TWO I've ever known and he's more and more awesome every day!

Jumping Back In

It's been a LONG while... I always mean to post, but life, love, and the pursuit of happiness are taking up a lot of time. Summer was a whirlwind. We had a deployment, trips to NV, two to MI, Anguilla (sans Ben) and lots of to-dos in between. We had an earthquake and a hurricane (both of which were mild and anti-climactic). We got lots new teeth, went through MANY phases, and are now, quickly emerging from baby-hood. We spent most of September doing absolutely nothing, which was much needed. This isn't much of an update, not really meant to inform, simply to get me back here, where I will make a pointed effort to share more often!

Cat's in the Cradle...

Yesterday I took my boy to dinner. I had forgotten that it was Father's Day. We must have looked a little pathetic, the two of us with no daddy in sight. We somehow managed for a second year in a row to be right in the middle of the thousands of miles that separated our two daddies. My daddy was with his other babies, camping. His heart must have been so full! I'm SURE he thought of us. He's a good daddy. He taught me how to drive a stick and use a knife and build a fire (sorry I did such a bad job last time, dad!!). He instilled in me a sense of self worth, a knowledge of right and wrong, and he lead me to our mutual Daddy. Ben's daddy... He hasn't really had the opportunity to do all those things yet. And, I think, his heart was a little heavy yesterday. He has missed all of his Father's Days now. I am so proud of him, and I know some day Ben will be too, but I cannot think about their separation without tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. This is not forever, and he is doing good things. I just pray they will not miss these times... I pray that we will manage to enable the same connection I have with my daddy.

Not Much

Six months...

I haven't updated in six months!!

I have a friend who I see three or four times a month. Whenever we talk she asks, "what's new with you?" I always respond with some form of "not much."

There is another dear friend whom I only speak with three or four times a year... She says, "tell me about your life!" To which I respond, "nothing really to tell..."

As mundane as my life seems (I stay home all day with a toddler and a dog with fairly regularly scheduled play-dates for both) there is A LOT to speak of! I don't know why I can't see that more often than every six months... My little man is almost fifteen months old. He's not just walking, but running, climbing on EVERYthing, "reading" books, deciding he's a car boy, learning how to play with the puppy, using phrases..! He is brilliant, seriously! He has the sweetest little heart too. He is a snuggler, loves to sit in our laps while he plays or reads. While he has not yet developed the empathy needed to feel badly for hitting, he LOVES it when other kids laugh! He's a good eater, ALMOST a good sleeper, and a tough little cookie (although he never hurts himself being brave, just walking!). What a good life!

Just Like Heaven

Today is our fourth anniversary. Four years ago, today John Miller and I promised to stay together forever, no matter what! Looking back on our short life together we are simply amazed by how blessed we are. We've been to three foreign countries together (all islands, interestingly), countless baseball games, and over a dozen states! We have the sweetest dog in the world, a perfect little house, and the most beautiful amazing loving brilliant baby ever born! We like to do the same things but mostly stay home just the two (now three) of us and be silly together. We have the most stimulating conversations I think two people can have and stomp each other at Jeopardy and Name That Band. Most importantly we both love the same God. We are both dedicated to His work and knowing Him more... Wow. What are the chances?!

The Long Road Home

We're days away, now, from John's homecoming! I've never been so excited to see him! This has been the longest TDY he's had since we were married, and is obviously the most difficult timing. Benjamin will be seven and a half months old when he gets home, so John will have missed more than half his life... I'm always a little nervous about John coming home (surprising as it may sound). There is always a time of adjustment contrary to the common belief that it is a purely honeymoon period. That's not to say we aren't happy... It's just a strange week or so! Just like everything else, this anxiety is magnified by the implications of being parents. Benjamin is a totally different baby. He's almost a child now. I'm not certain he'll understand who John is or be susceptible to his parenting. I know they will like each other though. John will be amazed by the leaps and bounds Ben has made in his development and I'm sure Benjamin will be enchanted with John.

Raynaud's Nurse

My life has been centered around breastfeeding for a while now. It got more intense after John left because it was a way of making the time seem to fly. In all honesty I love it. I love everything about nursing. I've heard other moms say they feel like a cow. I thought that just one time (while I was pumping and someone else was giving Benjamin a bottle) and ended up on the floor of my shower sobbing for a full hour. Breastfeeding is, I think, the most amazing part if being a woman. I often say to John, "sorry you can't lactate." It was surreal to me to grow a person inside my body. To feel a tiny body get bigger and start to move and take on personality was shocking in the best way... But I didn't have to do anything, other than eat of course! Now, I have this little human who started out at just 7.5 pounds and is now over 15 and I did that! Everything that is making him strong, helping him learn, giving him energy had to go through me! Every time I sit down with Benjamin on my lap and offer him the best I can make I am sustaining his life. No one else does that. I. Sustain. Life. Amazing.

So, you can imagine how crushed I was when it stopped working so well.

Raynaud's is a vasospastic disorder. It affects the fingers, toes, and "occasionally other areas."* Essentially, the blood vessels spasm, forcing the blood out of the extremities. The extremities turn bright white (and sometimes blue or purple) and go totally numb. It can be triggered by cold temperatures or emotional stress. When it happens to my fingers I can't use them at all. My toes make me think there is a rock in my shoe because I can't feel the one that's numb but the toe next to it can... I was diagnosed about a year ago and it hasn't changed my life much. I can't go barefoot (even in the house) unless it's summer and I wear gloves when the rest of the world is enjoying the freedom of Spring. Interesting cultural reference: Raynaud's was mentioned in FlashForward (a terrible series on ABC that I'm into). It was a bad reference, but crazy to see it out there!

The "other areas" that can be affected are nipples. No one ever mentioned that to me (my lactation consultant said they probably don't know). So, about a week after John left (when I was under some emotional stress) I woke up in searing pain. I had a clogged duct, badly clogged. It took five nursing sessions done, basically, upside down to clear (that's one full day). Once we got through it I had this, "whew, that was BAD!" feeling along with serious releife that it was over. I even had some residual pain... Then, eight days later, it was back. After four weeks and five clogs I called a lactation consultant. She was shocked to hear that Benjamin was four months old and we were having problems. She told me to stop taking my calcium (that can sometimes cause clogs) and it should clear up in a few days. A week and two clogs later she came to see us. She could see where the clog was happening and that there was damage from working them out but didn't see a problem with my anatomy. She also didn't see any problems with our technique. Once Ben was done eating we went over my medical history. "I have Raynaud's" I say, off-handedly.

"You have Raynaud's?"

"Yeah." and I almost add, "do you know what that is?"

But she breaks in, "That's your problem!!!"

"Seriously?"

I don't know how I missed that. I should have been able to put it together. I was having vasospasms in my nipples and thought it was just part of nursing. Everything isn't better yet. I've had three clogs since I started taking supplements for the Raynaud's. It is a little better though. And honestly, the best thing is having hope that it's fixable. I don't know what I'd do if someone told me I had to stop nursing my baby. I'm pretty sure I would end up in the pits of despair!

*Wikipedia

Unbuttoned

Breast feeding is a volatile topic. Everyone has an opinion about it and every mom has a story. It's amazing to me how different the same, natural experience can be for every mom and every baby. Last Sunday I was nursing Ben in the nursery when a friend (a mother of two) walked in. Seeing us rocking in the chair she said, "uhg! I was so glad when I was done with that!" Another friend, who's baby has had a rough time nursing says every time she sees Ben eating, "oh, that's so beautiful!" I've always enjoyed it... At least I have since we got the hang of it! Those first few days were a little torturous!

Feeding Benjamin has taken on a different dynamic since John left though. I'm forced, every three hours, all day (and once in the wee hours) to take half an hour and just sit, relax, breath, and look into the most perfect face God has pieced together.

I have always struggled with anxiety and depression. I've been medicated (pretty heavily) for almost five years now. When John has deployed in the past I have doubled my dosage. When we started trying for a baby though, I got off of all my meds. But several weeks after Ben was born I had a little bout of postpartum depression, which I completely expected. I was put on a much safer drug and a very low dose... It's worked, but once John left I got edgy... Until Benjamin needed to eat!

John has been gone for several days now and I'm much more balanced than I could have ever expected. I know some of the benefits are hormonal, but being so close to that perfect little boy is salve on my wounded heart.

People are mean.

Maybe it's because I was so mean when I was little, but I've made it a personal mission to be generally nice. It's actually not all that difficult, and it's made ME happier. Which begs the question: Why are people mean? And I don't mean specifically. I understand situational meanness... If someone is mean to you, you be mean back. It's human nature (if not only un-Christlike). But why be mean just to be mean?

For instance, foxnews.com put up a poll: What should DC call it's storms? I personally have been referring to them as Snowmaggedon. Other options are snowpocolyps, snowball warming, filiblizard (like filibuster...). After you vote you can comment and read other people's comments. It's been utterly bizarre to me how mean people have been in their comments. Yes, people are being mean about the news coverage of our record breaking snow storms. I realize other parts of the country get this much snow every year, but we don't. We've shattered our seasonal snow fall record by ten inches and we have more storms coming. The roads in Baltimore were literally shut down. When there is excessive flooding in the west I expect to hear about it. When a massive hurricane hits the gulf I expect to hear about it. If the north is covered in ice, I expect to hear about it. Why does our extreme weather inspire anger and hatred?

Maybe I'm just being sensitive... No, I AM being sensitive. I feel disconnected and isolated (by the storm, go figure) and we're only eleven days from a deployment. Uhg. I'm like a raw nerve, a raw nerve packed in ice!

My Affair

I have a love affair going on. He's short and doesn't have MUCH hair, but he's gorgeous! He has the most sparkly eyes I've ever seen and every time they lock with mine he's looking right into my heart! His smile is breathtaking, although it only flashes across his face, he's not an overtly emotional person. He is a little needy: always calling to me and waking me up at night... But I don't mind most of the time. He seems pretty content to just sit and look at me while I talk about trivial matters which makes me feel like the center of his world! John doesn't seem to mind. He seems to be in love with my prince too.

The birth of Benjamin Elliott

On Thursday, November 12th I woke up feeling pretty good. That morning I had my first cup of Third Trimester Tea and sat on the chaise with Conley in my lap while I used a bright orange pen to journal. I wrote about patience. I wrote about patient anticipation because my appointment on Tuesday was discouraging. There had been no change in my body since the week before. I had been so sure the baby was coming and then I was crushed. John had had Wednesday off so we took our last trip to Babies R Us and I realized he was waiting too, and this would be the end of just the two of us, so I would be patient and enjoy our time. "When am I ever going to be this pregnant with my first child ever again?" I wrote in bright, happy orange.

I spent the day putting away the new baby items and doing light house work. Around 1:30pm I laid down for a nap, Conley glued to my legs. I woke up on my own around three and thought about showering. However, when I sat down to pee I felt a strange pop. I looked down and there was a little dripping. "Did my water just break?" I figured if, in fact, my water was breaking I'd be really happy later that I had showered. I quickly took a shower and dried off, taking care to not drip on anything important, still thinking I may be mistaken... Once I was dry I tried to put on lotion but found it difficult to do because I had to stand in one spot or risk getting things wet. "Alright, this has to be it. What else would be coming out of me?" I called John and told him I thought I may have broken... He didn't really believe I could be so unsure AND in labor... I told him I wanted to go to the OB's office but would be really disappointed if I were, in fact, starting labor and he weren't there. He told the guys he was leaving, but may be back.

We met up at the OB's office but I still wasn't feeling anything. We didn't sit in the waiting room because we were both so nervous and, frankly, I didn't want to risk leaking on anything. Once we got to the exam room and could speak more candidly with one another as we waited we realized how excited and a little scared we both were. My contractions were beginning to become uncomfortable too. When we're nervous, of course, we make jokes... By the time the OB came in I was giggling so hard it forced every ounce of water out of my body, which made me laugh more. "You're in labor," she said definitively... "If it had been like this before," I told her, "I wouldn't have bothered to come in!" She checked my cervix for reference and I was at 4cm and 80% effaced. She wanted us to go right to the hospital (I was positive for Strep B so would need antibiotics asap), but we were totally unprepared. She had a pretty grave look on her face when she told us we could go home first, "but don't wait around," she said.

We got home and scurried to get things together. Conley was a wreck! He had no idea what was going on! I made myself a piece of cinnamon toast thinking I would be in labor until the next day and may not get another chance to eat. As John made himself a pb&j I started to get hectic inside and noted that the contractions were starting to make me nervous. We packed up the car and took the dog to PetSmart where he would stay until Sunday. While I waited in the car for John to sign Conley in I started to get really REALLY uncomfortable. Between PetSmart and the hospital John called his dad and told him I wasn't in any pain yet. "Oh no! This is pain, I'm in pain now!"

When we got to the labor and delivery ward the nurses said they were starting to worry we weren't showing up! We told them we had to take the dog to the boarding facility and they were all a little stunned and uncomfortable at the thought! We sat in the hallway for a few minutes waiting for our room, they were particularly full that night. I informed the receptionist that in two minutes I was going to take off all of my clothes with no regard for where I was. She called someone and we were in a room in the next minute and a half! Just in time!

By the time I was in a gown and in bed I was so distracted and focused I almost didn't notice they were putting in my IV (a source of real anxiety for me). John stood by my head and just kept telling me, "You're doing great, everything is fine, your body is working!" The first time I saw my own ob it was 6:45 and I had gotten to 6cm and 90%. John and I worked through lots of really tough contractions with no interest in how long or how far apart they were. They seemed to be much stronger much sooner than I had expected and I was honestly scared, thinking I wouldn't be able to do this for twelve hours. When the nurse checked me again at 7:30 and I was still at 6 cm I started to cry. "It's okay," John said, "your body is working, things are still happening even though there's no change..." He was awesome! I worked hard for the next half hour, really trying to visualize things opening and changing and softening. At 8 o'clock, when the nurse came back, THANK GOD! I was at 8 cm and my antibiotics were finished!! "You want to get in the shower?" Heck yes! John helped me up and into the shower, pausing for all the contractions.

The shower was amazing. John used the shower head to spray my lower back or my belly as I requested. I sat on the seat, crouched on the floor, leaned up against the wall... Just kept moving and breathing, loving the water! After about 45 minutes I started to feel like things were getting easier which made me think the water was stalling labor. John helped me towel off and get back into my gown. Walking back to the bed was surprisingly easy and I seemed to have this burst of energy. John got me into the side lying position I loved so much and then it hit. I had this.. contraction.. I cannot describe. It took every ounce of me to ride it and I threw up a little which immediately took my mind to "TRANSITION!!" All I could say was, "I want to get checked!" "What?" John said. "Call the nurse... I want to be checked!" He made the call, and in a very confused voice said, "my wife wants to be checked, or something." Two super contractions later the nurse came in and asked as she put on her gloves, "do you feel the urge to push." I just nodded emphatically as I grunted though another super contraction. "Okay! Don't!" I think the look on my face told her that wasn't much of an option. She told me to just make little grunts when I felt the urge, Dr. Goitom was still in surgery. She checked and I was at 10 cm and totally effaced. "We're ready!" she said, but she didn't think the doctor would be for another five or ten minutes. I really thought I was going to have my baby without a medical professional! Twelve minutes later the nurse came back and allowed me a few pushes before the doctor came.

When Dr. Goitom finally got to the room she checked me and smiled before she sat down to do paper work. John and the nurse helped me push for about half an hour. The nurse told me that the baby had a lot of hair. I was surprised he had any! I noted how much easier this part was, I so preferred it over the opening stage! After that initial half hour of pushing the nurse told the doctor we were ready for her. She walked over, put her things in order and just sat there... I'm still surprised by how much she didn't do! Although, I know our bodies are made for this..! After another eleven minutes (41 total pushing) Benjamin came right out and was placed on my chest. He was surprisingly quiet, he hardly cried after those initial few protests. His eyes were wide open and looking right at me! In those first few minutes everything about him was perfect! I say "those first few" because after about twenty minutes of snuggling on my chest his body temperature was dropping and he was grunting too much. Because of the group B strep Ben was at a high risk of infection. They want the antibiotics finished at least four hours before delivery... Mine had finished a little less than two hours prior. Benjamin went into the warmer and a nurse from the NICU came in and suctioned his lungs. That was the most angry he got in those first few days. Once they were done working on him he had to stay in the warmer but I was able to sit with him and sing all the songs he already knew. He laid there, very content, watching me sing.

It really was a perfect night!

Due Date UpDate

*sigh*

So, Thursday night we did... that thing... you know, that got us into this situation! and there was some bleeding... Alright, there was a lot of bleeding. The kind of bleeding you don't just sit around and wait to stop. We went straight to the hospital where they hooked me up and checked me out. Baby sounded terrific! His heart rate was only a tiny bit slower than normal (and totally within healthy range) but I was contracting. I had NO idea! I didn't really believe the nurse at first; she showed me the tape, put her hand on my belly and said, "see there it is, feel your stomach." Sure enough, it was hard as a rock and Baby wasn't moving! Once it finished he freaked out and the nurses thought he was so cute! They were very impressed by his leg strength! We had to hang around for a while until the hospital's OB was able to come in (my OB didn't think it was necessary for her to come see me). She finally came in about 45 minutes later and checked everything out. The bleeding had slowed and wasn't coming from anything really important but I was 70% effaced and between one and 2cm. They wanted me to walk around for an hour and see if there were any changes. We protested. I talked to the nurse and told her even if I were in labor we'd be going home once they checked me. We want most of our laboring to happen at home, not in the hospital. She called my OB and gave us the go ahead to go home, get some sleep, and come into the office in the morning.

Friday morning I had an appointment with my primary care about an echo I had had the week before. Everything looked terrific! When the nurse took my blood pressure though she was surprised my how high it was and asked if I had trouble with it. I said, "no, I may be in labor though." She was stunned, "what are you going to do now?" I told her I was going across the hall as soon as I was done there. When I got across the hall I had to see one of the OB partners, mine was at the hospital. I really really liked this OB. She gave me terrific compliments and told me, based on what she was seeing, that my labor would be a breeze! The bad news? There is always bad news for us... My strep B culture came back positive. It could amount to nothing or it could cause infection in me and/or the baby and we could both die. Good thing I didn't know that the night before, they may not have let me go! She said it's no big deal, I just have to come in sooner and get antibiotics ever four hours. I said, "oh, it's a big deal..." "What's the problem?" "I one time passed out when my mom was getting an IV placed... I take a Xanax every time I get blood taken... If I have to get an IV I'm going to be so stressed my body is going to shut down and I'm going to need pitcocin and an epidural and in the end I'm going to have to have a cesarean because I can't handle all those needles!!!" She told me they may be able to give me a little Valium before placing the IV (once she looked it up though she found out it's not an option, big surprise), and I'll be fine. She sent me home with an IV catheter so we could "become friends" and told me to familiarize myself with the process so I won't be so creeped out! The cath is on the table and sometimes I pick my teeth with it!

As of this morning, things are moving pretty slowly, but I've got a chiropractic appointment (which can induce labor) and a friend coming to help me clean... We're shooting for lots of labor inducing activity! I'd like to have this baby out by the weekend, but who knows? He's been on his own time line all along! Still, he's been fantastic through the whole thing!

Pray for Ismael

Saying Goodbye

He was a week and a half old...

This is Ismael. Ismael was born at the Village of Hope in Morocco while I was there in 2005. He was conceived by his unwed mother during a rape. She is an illegitimate woman, as low as you can go in an Arab world. Her first child, a baby girl, was sold. The two babies share a father, oddly enough, and he is the one who sold her. No one knew she was pregnant. She left her village under the guise of visiting family. She stayed at the Village for a month before she delivered. I lived with her and a French girl named Sofie. I cannot describe the unbelievable language barrier we had between us for those weeks we occupied the same space! Still, we loved each other. Although it wasn't much of a surprise, it was a tremendous honor when she asked Sofie and me to name her little boy. Ismael means "God listens." I have to remind myself that that is the reason we picked his name. I was so sure in those first few months of his life that God was not listening.

She came to the orphanage for her own safety and for that of her precious cargo. She wanted him to have more than she did. The Village takes babies and puts them in families. There are three families at The Village. When Ismael was born two of the families had eight children (their max) and one had three (my little darlings) but no parents. The couple, who had committed to living in Morocco with the soul purpose of raising eight orphans to adulthood in a Christ centered home, left. I can't judge them. It is a huge task, I couldn't do it. But their departure is the source of my heart ache. When I visited, the three little ones (ages 2-5) were being taken care of by two women, one from Canada and one from England. They stayed for years until a couple was found who would take their place. There is a family in that house now, praise God, but back then...

It was decided that the two of them should not take on an infant before parents were found. I discussed taking Ismael home with me with the leaders at the Village, but not being Muslim made it impossible for me to adopt him legally. My sweet little Ismael stayed in the care of Sofie and an English woman who showed up mere days before I left until he was almost a month old. After Sofie left he was sent to a private orphanage in a nearby village. This orphanage has ties with the Village, but for some reason my contacts lost track of Ismael. Today is his birthday. He is four years old. I can keep track of how big he is (generally speaking) because he is only four days younger than my sweet little Kera! She is in preschool now. She has a personality three times bigger than her little frame and loves to color. I know they are not alike, but I wonder how Ismael is. I wonder if he is learning to write. I wonder if he feels loved and safe, but most of all I wonder if he has heard the truth about Jesus. He was born in The Village, a strong hold of Jesus in a vast dessert of lies. That has to mean something. It has to have some effect on his future. I prayed over his tiny body so hard those twelve days I had with him. But now, as I sit here carrying my own little boy, waiting to hold him in my arms, praying that he will know Jesus soon I cannot help feeling like God did not listen four years ago. He was there, in a little bastion of God's people and now... Only God knows.

But, we named him Ismael for a reason. God will listen. So, please, ask Him to protect this little boy. Ask Him to draw him, somehow to Himself.

35 and counting.

We're at 35 weeks... Well, 35 and a half! Every day counts now! Baby is getting big and very very strong. He has kept his feet on my right side since he was 20 weeks, which means he's in a very good position but I'm not sure my right ribs can take it much longer! I'm pretty sure he's been hooking his toes on the OUTSIDE of my rib... He has become much more personable with John but increasingly intolerant of Conley! I'm pretty sure it's because John touches while Conley squishes! We got back to yoga last week and he was pretty uncooperative there too! Next week we start our weekly OB check ups and they keep saying everything looks (sounds, feels) really good.... I'm a little concerned though, I had a couple Braxton Hicks about a month ago and not a one since! I keep warning my body that it's going to want to start practicing, or warming up or something! Nada. My only real concern is that my parents will be going home on the 6th of December... That's one week after he's due. Maybe I'll start jogging or taking the stairs... more... We'll see....

Time is NOT on our side!

We're to 34 weeks! That means we've got six to work with... John will be gone for a week for training (stateside), so really we've got five weeks... The paint is on the walls, the plumbing is fixed, the crib is on it's way, and we have a car seat to bring Baby home in! Good, great! But:

One of the advantages to registering at Babies R Us was their registry close-out program. When you close your registry you get 10% off everything left on it! We're super stoked about getting a break like that. We went to the store the other night to get the stroller/car seat and thought we'd ask about closing out our registry while we were there. Glad we asked! There's a catch we didn't notice in the fine print... You can't get the 10% until you get the coupon in the mail. They send out the coupons every two weeks, so depending on where our due date lies in their process we may not get our coupon until after Baby comes home!! I (being a bit on the compulsive, crazy side) wanted everything in the house by the beginning of November... Not only is that not going to work, it may be the beginning of December before we CAN get the rest of our baby crap!!

I think, though, I would have had more of a melt down if I wasn't so far along. Baby is big, and healthy, and he's coming! I WANT him to come! I want to see his little face. Also he's starting to become a bit of a nuisance at night, he likes to push his foot against the mattress as hard as he can. It was cute in the beginning, when "as hard as he can" wasn't all that hard, but he's getting strong now! I'm afraid he's going to kick a hole in my right side! Of course, on the bright side, he's getting bigger.... I mean, older. He responds to things now. He responds to John's touch and Conley's barking. When John reads to him he sticks his butt out as hard as he can! It takes my breath away (physically and otherwise)! We so cannot wait to meet him, hopefully he likes us!!