Thursday, September 15, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
10 years ago today...
the terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon happened. Our country's never been the same since. I read the cover article in People magazine this week. It interviewed 10 boys and girls who lost their dads in the 9/11 attacks. These children never knew their fathers because their mothers were still pregnant with them when their dads were killed. There was a kind of sobriety in these children's eyes that revealed a sorrowful burden they have born for almost 10 years. They interviewed their mothers, too. To not only have to endure the rest of a pregnancy, give birth to a fatherless child, and then be forced to raise that child with all the courage you can muster day in and day out is unthinkable for me. I don't know what I would do without Joe, but these women had to face the horrible truth of life without daddy.
Sometimes, when I tell people about the brain hemorrhage I experienced several years ago (even sparing them many of the painful details), they are incredulous. "Well, I couldn't go through that. I'd be screaming and kicking if I had to spend two weeks in ICU. I'd loose my mind." I think, "Do you think I had a choice? I had to go through it! I had no choice but to patiently endure." It's amazing to learn what we're really made of and that we are so much stronger than we think. These mothers had to summon their courage and face life without a husband and father of their children. What a life! What a testimony! I wonder how many times they wondered how God could be glorified in the midst of such despair and darkness. I learn the heart of God is so deep at these times because when we feel we cannot despair no longer, God is longer still. There is no limit to how many times we can bang our fists on the chest of God. He is always deeper, longer, wider than our minds can fathom.
Psalm 46
1 God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
Sometimes, when I tell people about the brain hemorrhage I experienced several years ago (even sparing them many of the painful details), they are incredulous. "Well, I couldn't go through that. I'd be screaming and kicking if I had to spend two weeks in ICU. I'd loose my mind." I think, "Do you think I had a choice? I had to go through it! I had no choice but to patiently endure." It's amazing to learn what we're really made of and that we are so much stronger than we think. These mothers had to summon their courage and face life without a husband and father of their children. What a life! What a testimony! I wonder how many times they wondered how God could be glorified in the midst of such despair and darkness. I learn the heart of God is so deep at these times because when we feel we cannot despair no longer, God is longer still. There is no limit to how many times we can bang our fists on the chest of God. He is always deeper, longer, wider than our minds can fathom.
Psalm 46
1 God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
5 God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
6 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
5 God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
6 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
7 The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
8 Come and see what the LORD has done,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease
to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
10 He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease
to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
10 He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Morning coffee, baby, and sunshine
That was the nicest title I could think of. I have the most delicious coffee in hand, the most precious baby propped up on the Boppy, and a sunny morning awaiting me outside.
Yesterday was Labor Day and boy, it was the most glorious Labor Day weekend I could remember in 25 years of living in the Pacific NW. So we took advantage of it. On Saturday, we had dinner at our friends Luke and Jessica Thompson's apt. in downtown Tacoma. We went outside on a terrace that offered a view of Mt. Rainier to BBQ some burgers. How wonderful the company and how blessed we are to call them our friends. Their daughter, Claire, is turning one this month and we are going to celebrate with them this Sunday. It is such a blessing to have friends who also have a child and can relate.
On Sunday, we didn't quite make it to church on time, so we decided to forgo it and go for a family walk instead. We walked to the clubhouse at Chambers Bay Golf Course and back. I grew up in the Pacific NW with all its spectacular scenery, but I still find myself taken aback by its beauty. We are fortunate enough to live a few blocks away from the golf course walking trail with its panoramic views of the Puget Sound, Olympic Mountains, and sunsets. I worked the evening shift at ManorCare from 2 to 10pm.
Monday I had a good, but short workout at the Y. (Somebody's diaper needed to be changed halfway through my workout and her mom didn't bother to bring the diaper bag along, so her workout had to be cut short.) Joe went to school during this time to prep for the week. He came home mid-afternoon and we decided the weather was too beautiful to stay home. So I made dinner for us and as soon as it came out of the oven, I put it in a 9 x 13 Pyrex carrying case, and we were off to Kopachuck State Park for a picnic. We got to use our picnic backpack, an engagement present from my parents from way back in 2006. It has little plates, napkins, plastic wine glasses, silverware, a salt-and-pepper shaker, breadboard, and bread knife. Don't tell anybody, but we also brought along a bottle of Semillon which we bought at L'Ecole winery outside of Walla Walla. Our dinner was a kind of zucchini, onion, tomato, Mozzarella cheesy bake with Italian bread chunks over it and it was still warm from the oven. Everybody was perfectly content except for Sonja. Lately, when she's in a new place, she demands to be nursed more often, not necessarily out of hunger as much as comfort. And she only wants to be held by Joe or me. Last night, not even Joe or I could comfort her. We put her in the Infantino baby carrier as we hiked down to the rocky beach and she let all of Kopachuck State Park know how miserable she was. Typically bouncing and moving along soothes her, but not last night. Joe entertained the idea of spreading out the blanket on the beach (albeit rocky) and laying down to relax for a while. Babies change everything. Between nursing and rocking Sonja, there wasn't any lying down on the beach to soak in the rays at sunset to be had. We are attempting to employ a philosophy of childrearing that means we live our lives doing what we need and wish to do, bringing Sonja with us. We don't want to be hindered or prohibited from doing anything because of Sonja. What I mean is, we want what is best for our child, but we do not want to center everything in our life around Sonja. We are sensitive to her needs, but she will grow up being flexible to what we do as a family. It is a fine line to draw, especially for first time parents. Last night, we attempted to do something we wanted to do and our baby did not adapt very well- at first. We tried to make the best of it, polishing off the bottle of wine and snacking on cheese and crackers while bouncing a baby on one knee. She calmed down eventually and were able to enjoy ourselves, although this was a far cry (haha) from our dates back in the day.
Yesterday was Labor Day and boy, it was the most glorious Labor Day weekend I could remember in 25 years of living in the Pacific NW. So we took advantage of it. On Saturday, we had dinner at our friends Luke and Jessica Thompson's apt. in downtown Tacoma. We went outside on a terrace that offered a view of Mt. Rainier to BBQ some burgers. How wonderful the company and how blessed we are to call them our friends. Their daughter, Claire, is turning one this month and we are going to celebrate with them this Sunday. It is such a blessing to have friends who also have a child and can relate.
On Sunday, we didn't quite make it to church on time, so we decided to forgo it and go for a family walk instead. We walked to the clubhouse at Chambers Bay Golf Course and back. I grew up in the Pacific NW with all its spectacular scenery, but I still find myself taken aback by its beauty. We are fortunate enough to live a few blocks away from the golf course walking trail with its panoramic views of the Puget Sound, Olympic Mountains, and sunsets. I worked the evening shift at ManorCare from 2 to 10pm.
Monday I had a good, but short workout at the Y. (Somebody's diaper needed to be changed halfway through my workout and her mom didn't bother to bring the diaper bag along, so her workout had to be cut short.) Joe went to school during this time to prep for the week. He came home mid-afternoon and we decided the weather was too beautiful to stay home. So I made dinner for us and as soon as it came out of the oven, I put it in a 9 x 13 Pyrex carrying case, and we were off to Kopachuck State Park for a picnic. We got to use our picnic backpack, an engagement present from my parents from way back in 2006. It has little plates, napkins, plastic wine glasses, silverware, a salt-and-pepper shaker, breadboard, and bread knife. Don't tell anybody, but we also brought along a bottle of Semillon which we bought at L'Ecole winery outside of Walla Walla. Our dinner was a kind of zucchini, onion, tomato, Mozzarella cheesy bake with Italian bread chunks over it and it was still warm from the oven. Everybody was perfectly content except for Sonja. Lately, when she's in a new place, she demands to be nursed more often, not necessarily out of hunger as much as comfort. And she only wants to be held by Joe or me. Last night, not even Joe or I could comfort her. We put her in the Infantino baby carrier as we hiked down to the rocky beach and she let all of Kopachuck State Park know how miserable she was. Typically bouncing and moving along soothes her, but not last night. Joe entertained the idea of spreading out the blanket on the beach (albeit rocky) and laying down to relax for a while. Babies change everything. Between nursing and rocking Sonja, there wasn't any lying down on the beach to soak in the rays at sunset to be had. We are attempting to employ a philosophy of childrearing that means we live our lives doing what we need and wish to do, bringing Sonja with us. We don't want to be hindered or prohibited from doing anything because of Sonja. What I mean is, we want what is best for our child, but we do not want to center everything in our life around Sonja. We are sensitive to her needs, but she will grow up being flexible to what we do as a family. It is a fine line to draw, especially for first time parents. Last night, we attempted to do something we wanted to do and our baby did not adapt very well- at first. We tried to make the best of it, polishing off the bottle of wine and snacking on cheese and crackers while bouncing a baby on one knee. She calmed down eventually and were able to enjoy ourselves, although this was a far cry (haha) from our dates back in the day.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Post-Partum
Today I am home sick recovering from a kidney infection. Thought I'd take some time to write about my post-partum period.
Actually, just scanned over the previous blog entry and it's amazing to think about how I actually WENT THROUGH a natural delivery of my Sonja. I DID IT. And from what I've been asked about her delivery by other women-mothers or not-I am finding more and more that I am definitely in the very small minority of mothers of not only elect not finding out the sex, but also choosing natural childbirth. Nope, I didn't have an epidural or any other medication...except something to stop the bleeding after Sonja was born. I choose this route for many reasons. If there has to be a single compelling reason why, I think it would be that I really don't like following the crowd. This doesn't mean that I go out of my way to buck the current trend or poke holes in common ways of accomplishing things in life. I like to know what sets me apart from the crowd. I am not saying that women who elect to use medication to ease delivery should not be proud of themselves for their monumental accomplishment. I wanted to find out for myself that child labor is actually possible without the utilization of drugs. (confession: I actually stated on my birth plan that I didn't want meds unless I asked for them as a last resort...and I did ask for them only once right before it was time to push. I was gently reminded by our doula that my goal was to go without any drugs. Despite all the pain I was in, I felt a little sheepish.) I wanted to prepare myself mentally as much as I could prior to labor. I am tenacious. I didn't want myself or my baby to to experience the side effects of drugs; I wanted to be as alert and oriented-albeit exhausted- as possible. I wanted to really discover what I was made of deep down.
I truly am surprised at the number of women who shudder at the concept of natural childbirth, as if pain is something to be greatly feared. They do not see yet that it is pain with a purpose. Actually, the more a woman laboring tenses up, the harder it is to get through the contractions. The easiest (if I can call it that!) way to get through the pain is to give yourself over to it.
After Sonja was born, I was wheeled down to the post-partum floor. My body ached for sleep and a good, hot meal. I was so weak the day I gave birth, it didn't even occur to me to wash my face, brush my teeth, much less to shower. Joe and I made several phone calls to family members and friends announcing the birth of Sonja- and, wouldn't you know it, Sonja's arrival made it on Facebook before we even had a moment to announce it ourselves. I wanted to tell people personally and honestly, finding out people were waiting for Facebook postings rather than our phone call was disheartening. The whole aspect of exactly when after our child's birth was to be posted it on Facebook was something that didn't even occur to us until I was about 39 weeks pregnant. I was so delirious with my pregnancy that I really didn't feel like micromanaging announcements of our baby's birth- can't people just be patient and wait for a phone call like in the olden days? Post-partum is nothing short of a WHIRLWIND. Not only was my threshold for pain tested to the limits of what it can tolerate this side of losing my mind, my voice was horribly raspy because of my crying out during labor. Nevertheless, we dutifully worked our way down our list of people to call.
Lactation specialists, nurses, and midwives visited our room intermittently, dispensing advice for how to nurse, how to take care of myself, how to this, and how to that. And they came on their own time. It didn't matter that I was in the middle of eating, the lactation specialist was going to teach me how to nurse my daughter NOW. It didn't matter that we were in the middle of a phone call, we had to wrap it up so the midwife could tell me about post-partum depression. I remember nurses coming in at all hours of the day and night, giving us various papers to sign. I could've signed my life away for all I know. We tried so hard to pay attention to every bit of professional advice given to us, and I hope between the two of us, we remember most of it. The important parts, at least.
My side of the family came as soon as they could to visit about 12 hours after Sonja's birth. There's a certain wonder about a family welcoming the very first grandchild and great-grandchild. We could hardly believe that she was actually REAL. As I've mentioned before, Sonja was born on Joe's 29th birthday. The brand new Grandma Lindquist (my mother in law) sent a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, a bunch of peonies (how did she know they were my favorites?), and "It's a girl!" balloons. We now have to figure out how to celebrate both Joe's and Sonja's birthdays from now on.
I remember falling asleep the first night in post-partum and being jarred awake by my daughter's cries to be fed. When we went to sleep that first night, I think both of us had completely forgotten about the fact our daughter would be waking us every couple of hours throughout the night for feedings and diaper changings. I don't know what I would've done with Joe's help. I was in no situation to get out of bed even every few hours to care for her. Joe heard her cries and diligently got up each time because I couldn't.
When it was time to discharge the next day, my family came and had a time getting Sonja's new car seat strapped in...in the rain, no less. I was so happy to bring our daughter home. We were HOME. The three of us.
Actually, just scanned over the previous blog entry and it's amazing to think about how I actually WENT THROUGH a natural delivery of my Sonja. I DID IT. And from what I've been asked about her delivery by other women-mothers or not-I am finding more and more that I am definitely in the very small minority of mothers of not only elect not finding out the sex, but also choosing natural childbirth. Nope, I didn't have an epidural or any other medication...except something to stop the bleeding after Sonja was born. I choose this route for many reasons. If there has to be a single compelling reason why, I think it would be that I really don't like following the crowd. This doesn't mean that I go out of my way to buck the current trend or poke holes in common ways of accomplishing things in life. I like to know what sets me apart from the crowd. I am not saying that women who elect to use medication to ease delivery should not be proud of themselves for their monumental accomplishment. I wanted to find out for myself that child labor is actually possible without the utilization of drugs. (confession: I actually stated on my birth plan that I didn't want meds unless I asked for them as a last resort...and I did ask for them only once right before it was time to push. I was gently reminded by our doula that my goal was to go without any drugs. Despite all the pain I was in, I felt a little sheepish.) I wanted to prepare myself mentally as much as I could prior to labor. I am tenacious. I didn't want myself or my baby to to experience the side effects of drugs; I wanted to be as alert and oriented-albeit exhausted- as possible. I wanted to really discover what I was made of deep down.
I truly am surprised at the number of women who shudder at the concept of natural childbirth, as if pain is something to be greatly feared. They do not see yet that it is pain with a purpose. Actually, the more a woman laboring tenses up, the harder it is to get through the contractions. The easiest (if I can call it that!) way to get through the pain is to give yourself over to it.
After Sonja was born, I was wheeled down to the post-partum floor. My body ached for sleep and a good, hot meal. I was so weak the day I gave birth, it didn't even occur to me to wash my face, brush my teeth, much less to shower. Joe and I made several phone calls to family members and friends announcing the birth of Sonja- and, wouldn't you know it, Sonja's arrival made it on Facebook before we even had a moment to announce it ourselves. I wanted to tell people personally and honestly, finding out people were waiting for Facebook postings rather than our phone call was disheartening. The whole aspect of exactly when after our child's birth was to be posted it on Facebook was something that didn't even occur to us until I was about 39 weeks pregnant. I was so delirious with my pregnancy that I really didn't feel like micromanaging announcements of our baby's birth- can't people just be patient and wait for a phone call like in the olden days? Post-partum is nothing short of a WHIRLWIND. Not only was my threshold for pain tested to the limits of what it can tolerate this side of losing my mind, my voice was horribly raspy because of my crying out during labor. Nevertheless, we dutifully worked our way down our list of people to call.
Lactation specialists, nurses, and midwives visited our room intermittently, dispensing advice for how to nurse, how to take care of myself, how to this, and how to that. And they came on their own time. It didn't matter that I was in the middle of eating, the lactation specialist was going to teach me how to nurse my daughter NOW. It didn't matter that we were in the middle of a phone call, we had to wrap it up so the midwife could tell me about post-partum depression. I remember nurses coming in at all hours of the day and night, giving us various papers to sign. I could've signed my life away for all I know. We tried so hard to pay attention to every bit of professional advice given to us, and I hope between the two of us, we remember most of it. The important parts, at least.
My side of the family came as soon as they could to visit about 12 hours after Sonja's birth. There's a certain wonder about a family welcoming the very first grandchild and great-grandchild. We could hardly believe that she was actually REAL. As I've mentioned before, Sonja was born on Joe's 29th birthday. The brand new Grandma Lindquist (my mother in law) sent a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, a bunch of peonies (how did she know they were my favorites?), and "It's a girl!" balloons. We now have to figure out how to celebrate both Joe's and Sonja's birthdays from now on.
I remember falling asleep the first night in post-partum and being jarred awake by my daughter's cries to be fed. When we went to sleep that first night, I think both of us had completely forgotten about the fact our daughter would be waking us every couple of hours throughout the night for feedings and diaper changings. I don't know what I would've done with Joe's help. I was in no situation to get out of bed even every few hours to care for her. Joe heard her cries and diligently got up each time because I couldn't.
When it was time to discharge the next day, my family came and had a time getting Sonja's new car seat strapped in...in the rain, no less. I was so happy to bring our daughter home. We were HOME. The three of us.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
They said my life would never be the same
...and I knew they'd be right.
Our daughter, Sonja Mae Lindquist, was born on Tuesday, May 24th, 2011 at 5:05am. She was 7 pounds, 4.6 oz and 18 3/4 inches long and 10 days late. Although she arrived past her due date, she shares her birthday with the other love of my life, my husband. We still cannot believe this happened as there are 364 other days of the year she on which she could have arrived. (This is also her aunt Chelsea's birthday as well; now we will have three type A Geminis in the family wink wink!)
To bring you up to speed, my faithful little bloggies, I will rewind a bit. I have had several requests to blog about my birthing story, much to my delighted surprise.
Above is a picture of me on my due date May 14th, with my round belly, double chin and all. Joe and I decided to purchase a Canon 40D on ebay with which to take pictures of our baby. And I can tell you, this camera was worth every penny. I'd rather have priceless memories than money stored in the bank. (Weird factoid: the guy who sold us the camera's lens at the camera shop was truly a unique breed of geek. While we were grateful he knew everything under the sun about camera lenses, he was so socially awkward that when we told him we were planning on taking pictures of our soon to arrive baby, he claims he didn't even notice I was pregnant! At 39 weeks!!)
As you can tell, nothing happened on my due date. Or the next day. Or the next. Or the day after that. Sigh...
For 9 days past her due date, I wrung my hands in frustration (to say the least). I was ADDICTED to watching A Baby Story, Baby's First Day, Bringing Home Baby, I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant...basically every show on TLC revolving around motherhood and pregnancy. My husband calls TLC the freak show channel because they produce so many shows on the most raw elements of life. (These shows are in addition to my faves on MTV: 16 and Pregnant and Teen Mom. You can guess what Joe thinks of these programs. Yep, it's usually me and the cat on the couch.) I will surmise that you are probably smirking at my candor by now. But it was TRUE. All I could think about was going into labor and believe me, did I ever beseech the Heavenly Father like I never had in my life. I prayed for labor day in and day out. I tried to keep my complaints on my Facebook status to a minimum. It was interesting how so many people, via the Internet, rallied around me at the very end of my pregnancy. I was truly floored and humbled at how many were praying for me to go into labor naturally.
At my midwife office visit at 41 weeks, I was asked when I wanted to be induced. Joe came with me, thank God. I didn't want to make the decision of when our child's birthday was going to be without him. They told me I was to be induced in the morning and, typically, for first time moms it takes about 12 hours for them to dialate to the point of being ready to push. Add on top of that pushing time, and baby typically arrives in the wee morning hours the next day.
Oh, how we were so hoping to bring our little one home and put him or her to bed in their very own room we'd be preparing for them. Nothing was more disheartening to me than seeing an empty room day after day past my due date.
On May 23rd, I just happened to tell one of my facebook friends, Leah, who is a Labor & Delivery nurse about the drug, Cytotec, my midwife intended to use to induce me. She and I talked on the phone that afternoon and she convinced me to explore other induction options that would be safer for me and baby. To this day, I find this conversation ironic. I discussed with her my goal of delivering my child naturally, sans drugs. I truly wanted to experience labor and delivery- every ache and pain, every contraction. I worked on my mental game for months prior. I knew that it would be pain like I've never experienced before in my life. (Many of you know I survived a brain hemorrhage in 2004. Hands down, I would rather experience child labor without drugs than endure a sporadic cavernoma with 2 weeks in ICU again.) I am definitely a risk taker and I love a good challenge. At about 3 o'clock in the afternoon while talking with Leah, I felt my first honest to goodness contraction. It felt like a hot flash and spasm of pain flooding through my body and I threw off the blanket on top of me. At the time, I chalked it up to being so out of it at 41 1/2 weeks pregnant and accustomed to being uncomfortable all the time. I credit finally going into labor from talking to Leah...and many, many prayers sent heavenward. From 5pm to 9pm, the contractions were about 15 to 20 minutes apart. I remember talking to my mom, who called me daily toward the end to check up, and telling her about my contractions. She said, "It's time."
At this time, I knew I was legitimately going into labor and I wish I could tell you I was giddy with excitement. Honestly, I felt relief and an impending sense of closure. Joe and I were so tired- he from end of the school year happenings and me from, well, being overdue. By 10 pm, my contractions were steadily growing closer and closer together and more intense. At this time, because I hadn't done it yet, I decided to finally write in my husband's birthday card. So, between contractions I wrote as fast as I could, pacing back and forth down the hallway as I needed to when I felt the onset of a contration.
By 11pm, we determined it was time to call the consulting nurses line. It's a strange experience calling the consulting nurses line. She asked me how far apart and how long my contractions were (5-7 minutes apart and about 1 or 1 1/2 minutes in duration) and a few other questions. I distinctly remember her telling me, "Congratulations! You're going to have a baby on the 24th." And that was when we realized that our baby- still a mystery as to a him or a her- was going to have the same birthday as daddy.
Joe, our two kitties, and I all curled up on the bed as I rested as much as I could. Sometime around 1am, my water broke and I told Joe that we were headed to the hospital NOW. We either called or texted our parents to let them know and we were off. We also called our doula, Ann, let her know what was happening, and she agreed to meet us at St. Joe's. My contractions were about a minute apart as we arrived at labor and delivery. The midwife determined I was 5cm and 80% effaced. At this point, I will spare my more modest readers some details. (If you really want to know, I'll tell you, Leah. ;) The next two hours were the most painful part of my labor. Contractions, for me, felt like the worst menstrual cramps I've ever felt... times 10. I've learned now that the discomfort I felt from female things is a very small taste of what pregnancy, labor, and postpartum was like for me. Really, every cramp I ever had, every discomfort I experienced from being a woman was only to prepare me for the aforementioned. Pregnancy and labor was really what women were designed to do by God. When I was deep in the trenches of full on labor, I remember my body's natural circadian rhythms fighting against my labor pains. I wanted so desparately to sleep, but my labor pains had the stronger will. My doula and nurses compared it to running a marathon...without any sleep, with very little food beforehand.
With Ann on my left side and Joe on my right, I finally reached the pushing phase. My midwife couldn't believe I dilated as quickly as I did for a first time mom. I was so exhausted while pushing, I literally fell asleep between contractions, believe it or not. I pushed for almost 1 1/2 hours until the midwife determined the baby's heartrate was falling into the 60's and 70's- too low. She told me, "You must push this baby out right now!" I was amazed at how I pushed about 95% of the way and then the wisdom of my body seemed to know how to push the remaining little bit. I pushed with every fiber of my being and I could tell from Ann, Joe, the L & D nurse, and my midwife that she was finally crowning. The knowledge that my baby's heartrate was falling precariously low was the incentive I needed. And then...
My dream of her coming out and being placed on my chest did not happen. When she came out, the midwife was so concerned with suctioning out her mouth and nose as a result of the meconium she ingested, she didn't even notice the sex of our baby. For several tense seconds after she came out as the midwife worked to help our baby breathe, no one said anything. All I heard was the click of the shutter on our camera. My hormones shifted so fast I shook uncontrollably. Ann leaned over and whispered in my ear, "It's a girl". Sonja. She was HERE. In fact, they didn't even let Joe cut the cord before the nurses wisked her away to do post-birth tests and clean her up. I looked over at the window as golden dawn broke over the city. The darkest hour literally was right before dawn. Joe was the first to hold her. I had to wait while the midwife stitched me up from the episiotomy (one of only a handful she's ever done in the 500 births she's been apart of). Then they told me it was time to nurse her. Surrounded by a doula and nurses all giving me instructions at the same time as to how to nurse my child, I finally held Sonja and she vigorously nursed for about half and hour.
(Post-partum coming soon...)
Our daughter, Sonja Mae Lindquist, was born on Tuesday, May 24th, 2011 at 5:05am. She was 7 pounds, 4.6 oz and 18 3/4 inches long and 10 days late. Although she arrived past her due date, she shares her birthday with the other love of my life, my husband. We still cannot believe this happened as there are 364 other days of the year she on which she could have arrived. (This is also her aunt Chelsea's birthday as well; now we will have three type A Geminis in the family wink wink!)
To bring you up to speed, my faithful little bloggies, I will rewind a bit. I have had several requests to blog about my birthing story, much to my delighted surprise.
Above is a picture of me on my due date May 14th, with my round belly, double chin and all. Joe and I decided to purchase a Canon 40D on ebay with which to take pictures of our baby. And I can tell you, this camera was worth every penny. I'd rather have priceless memories than money stored in the bank. (Weird factoid: the guy who sold us the camera's lens at the camera shop was truly a unique breed of geek. While we were grateful he knew everything under the sun about camera lenses, he was so socially awkward that when we told him we were planning on taking pictures of our soon to arrive baby, he claims he didn't even notice I was pregnant! At 39 weeks!!)
As you can tell, nothing happened on my due date. Or the next day. Or the next. Or the day after that. Sigh...
For 9 days past her due date, I wrung my hands in frustration (to say the least). I was ADDICTED to watching A Baby Story, Baby's First Day, Bringing Home Baby, I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant...basically every show on TLC revolving around motherhood and pregnancy. My husband calls TLC the freak show channel because they produce so many shows on the most raw elements of life. (These shows are in addition to my faves on MTV: 16 and Pregnant and Teen Mom. You can guess what Joe thinks of these programs. Yep, it's usually me and the cat on the couch.) I will surmise that you are probably smirking at my candor by now. But it was TRUE. All I could think about was going into labor and believe me, did I ever beseech the Heavenly Father like I never had in my life. I prayed for labor day in and day out. I tried to keep my complaints on my Facebook status to a minimum. It was interesting how so many people, via the Internet, rallied around me at the very end of my pregnancy. I was truly floored and humbled at how many were praying for me to go into labor naturally.At my midwife office visit at 41 weeks, I was asked when I wanted to be induced. Joe came with me, thank God. I didn't want to make the decision of when our child's birthday was going to be without him. They told me I was to be induced in the morning and, typically, for first time moms it takes about 12 hours for them to dialate to the point of being ready to push. Add on top of that pushing time, and baby typically arrives in the wee morning hours the next day.
Oh, how we were so hoping to bring our little one home and put him or her to bed in their very own room we'd be preparing for them. Nothing was more disheartening to me than seeing an empty room day after day past my due date.On May 23rd, I just happened to tell one of my facebook friends, Leah, who is a Labor & Delivery nurse about the drug, Cytotec, my midwife intended to use to induce me. She and I talked on the phone that afternoon and she convinced me to explore other induction options that would be safer for me and baby. To this day, I find this conversation ironic. I discussed with her my goal of delivering my child naturally, sans drugs. I truly wanted to experience labor and delivery- every ache and pain, every contraction. I worked on my mental game for months prior. I knew that it would be pain like I've never experienced before in my life. (Many of you know I survived a brain hemorrhage in 2004. Hands down, I would rather experience child labor without drugs than endure a sporadic cavernoma with 2 weeks in ICU again.) I am definitely a risk taker and I love a good challenge. At about 3 o'clock in the afternoon while talking with Leah, I felt my first honest to goodness contraction. It felt like a hot flash and spasm of pain flooding through my body and I threw off the blanket on top of me. At the time, I chalked it up to being so out of it at 41 1/2 weeks pregnant and accustomed to being uncomfortable all the time. I credit finally going into labor from talking to Leah...and many, many prayers sent heavenward. From 5pm to 9pm, the contractions were about 15 to 20 minutes apart. I remember talking to my mom, who called me daily toward the end to check up, and telling her about my contractions. She said, "It's time."
At this time, I knew I was legitimately going into labor and I wish I could tell you I was giddy with excitement. Honestly, I felt relief and an impending sense of closure. Joe and I were so tired- he from end of the school year happenings and me from, well, being overdue. By 10 pm, my contractions were steadily growing closer and closer together and more intense. At this time, because I hadn't done it yet, I decided to finally write in my husband's birthday card. So, between contractions I wrote as fast as I could, pacing back and forth down the hallway as I needed to when I felt the onset of a contration.
By 11pm, we determined it was time to call the consulting nurses line. It's a strange experience calling the consulting nurses line. She asked me how far apart and how long my contractions were (5-7 minutes apart and about 1 or 1 1/2 minutes in duration) and a few other questions. I distinctly remember her telling me, "Congratulations! You're going to have a baby on the 24th." And that was when we realized that our baby- still a mystery as to a him or a her- was going to have the same birthday as daddy.
Joe, our two kitties, and I all curled up on the bed as I rested as much as I could. Sometime around 1am, my water broke and I told Joe that we were headed to the hospital NOW. We either called or texted our parents to let them know and we were off. We also called our doula, Ann, let her know what was happening, and she agreed to meet us at St. Joe's. My contractions were about a minute apart as we arrived at labor and delivery. The midwife determined I was 5cm and 80% effaced. At this point, I will spare my more modest readers some details. (If you really want to know, I'll tell you, Leah. ;) The next two hours were the most painful part of my labor. Contractions, for me, felt like the worst menstrual cramps I've ever felt... times 10. I've learned now that the discomfort I felt from female things is a very small taste of what pregnancy, labor, and postpartum was like for me. Really, every cramp I ever had, every discomfort I experienced from being a woman was only to prepare me for the aforementioned. Pregnancy and labor was really what women were designed to do by God. When I was deep in the trenches of full on labor, I remember my body's natural circadian rhythms fighting against my labor pains. I wanted so desparately to sleep, but my labor pains had the stronger will. My doula and nurses compared it to running a marathon...without any sleep, with very little food beforehand.
With Ann on my left side and Joe on my right, I finally reached the pushing phase. My midwife couldn't believe I dilated as quickly as I did for a first time mom. I was so exhausted while pushing, I literally fell asleep between contractions, believe it or not. I pushed for almost 1 1/2 hours until the midwife determined the baby's heartrate was falling into the 60's and 70's- too low. She told me, "You must push this baby out right now!" I was amazed at how I pushed about 95% of the way and then the wisdom of my body seemed to know how to push the remaining little bit. I pushed with every fiber of my being and I could tell from Ann, Joe, the L & D nurse, and my midwife that she was finally crowning. The knowledge that my baby's heartrate was falling precariously low was the incentive I needed. And then...
My dream of her coming out and being placed on my chest did not happen. When she came out, the midwife was so concerned with suctioning out her mouth and nose as a result of the meconium she ingested, she didn't even notice the sex of our baby. For several tense seconds after she came out as the midwife worked to help our baby breathe, no one said anything. All I heard was the click of the shutter on our camera. My hormones shifted so fast I shook uncontrollably. Ann leaned over and whispered in my ear, "It's a girl". Sonja. She was HERE. In fact, they didn't even let Joe cut the cord before the nurses wisked her away to do post-birth tests and clean her up. I looked over at the window as golden dawn broke over the city. The darkest hour literally was right before dawn. Joe was the first to hold her. I had to wait while the midwife stitched me up from the episiotomy (one of only a handful she's ever done in the 500 births she's been apart of). Then they told me it was time to nurse her. Surrounded by a doula and nurses all giving me instructions at the same time as to how to nurse my child, I finally held Sonja and she vigorously nursed for about half and hour.
(Post-partum coming soon...)
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Observations
Joe here. Until recently I was unaware that I could contribute to this blog, but I guess the title - the lindquist two - should give it away. Really, it should be "the lindquist three" now. We'll have to get on that.
People keep saying how fast these early years go, how quickly babies grow up. So, I thought I should write down my impressions of Sonja as she grows. Up until Monday, it had been a whirlwind from the hour Katy went into labor. This week, with the friends and relatives come and gone, we have finally gotten to enjoy Sonja at home ourselves. (Mind you, it was wonderful having the family and friends around. We have great people in our lives. They are encouraging, pleasant, humorous, and they brought us delicious food.)
When Sonja was born, she was so tiny! Her nose was flat, her ears were like wads of crumpled paper, and all she could do was suck, cry, pee, poop, and sleep. Now she is moving her head around. Now she knows that she can suck on her hand when she gets hungry or needs soothing. Now she sleeps up to 4 or 5 hours in a row! She hasn't gotten much bigger, but when we put on the outfit she came home from the hospital in, she filled it out more.
The most fun new development is her alert states. She looks around, her eyes are big, and she has all these crazy facial expressions. It's like she hasn't learned how she's supposed to configure her face yet, so she does exactly what she feels like. Her brow furrows, and her eyebrows lift. Or her forehead will be relaxed, but her mouth is shaped in a perfect O. When her diaper is dirty, she starts looking like she just smelled the bastard child of stinky cheese and old, unwashed gym socks.
She still can't hold her head up, crawl, or hold herself up. But I'm in no hurry, and I hope she isn't either. I just want to enjoy every day.
People keep saying how fast these early years go, how quickly babies grow up. So, I thought I should write down my impressions of Sonja as she grows. Up until Monday, it had been a whirlwind from the hour Katy went into labor. This week, with the friends and relatives come and gone, we have finally gotten to enjoy Sonja at home ourselves. (Mind you, it was wonderful having the family and friends around. We have great people in our lives. They are encouraging, pleasant, humorous, and they brought us delicious food.)
When Sonja was born, she was so tiny! Her nose was flat, her ears were like wads of crumpled paper, and all she could do was suck, cry, pee, poop, and sleep. Now she is moving her head around. Now she knows that she can suck on her hand when she gets hungry or needs soothing. Now she sleeps up to 4 or 5 hours in a row! She hasn't gotten much bigger, but when we put on the outfit she came home from the hospital in, she filled it out more.
The most fun new development is her alert states. She looks around, her eyes are big, and she has all these crazy facial expressions. It's like she hasn't learned how she's supposed to configure her face yet, so she does exactly what she feels like. Her brow furrows, and her eyebrows lift. Or her forehead will be relaxed, but her mouth is shaped in a perfect O. When her diaper is dirty, she starts looking like she just smelled the bastard child of stinky cheese and old, unwashed gym socks.
She still can't hold her head up, crawl, or hold herself up. But I'm in no hurry, and I hope she isn't either. I just want to enjoy every day.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
41 weeks
Wow. Did I just type that? 41 weeks. Yep.
We went to have a non-stress test done yesterday and, praise God, everything is going just fine with the baby. The goal with the non-stress tests are to prove that baby is, indeed, not stressed out, and if he/she is, then it would indicate inducing labor may be immanent or a C-section may be necessary. They hooked me up to two monitors strapped around my belly.
The machine the monitors were strapped to printed out this information.
In the lower picture, the squiggly line nearest to you is the baby's heartrate (ideal heartrate is about 120 to 160). The more sporadic black marks are when I felt any type of fetal movement. (I was given a button to press every time I felt the slightest movement.) The graph farthest away (bottom) tracked my uterine contractions. Often times, the baby is sound asleep and the technician has to wake him/her up to get an accurate test. They do this by administering gentle soundwaves to the mommy's tummy or giving mom juice so the glucose can reach the baby to stir him/her. Our baby was wide awake and ready to rumble. We listened to the heartbeat for about 40 minutes before they unhooked me and established that our baby was fine and dandy, getting good oxygen supply, and had a healthy heartrate. The only thing is that he/she is not ready to come out yet. Apparently, it just too snug and warm.
After the NST, we visited the midwife. She examined me and determined I am 2cm dilated and 80% effaced. She determined that my body is ready to be induced. We decided on a Wednesday, May 25th induction date. Now, induction is the last thing I really wanted to consider in regards to bringing our child in the world. (Actually, C-sections are, to be honest.) But as of the afternoon on Friday, May 20st, my body just wasn't going into labor. My midwife wanted to at least schedule an induction for sometime next week, while still giving my body a chance to go into labor. Past 42 weeks, the mother and baby incur risks. The placenta is a temporary organ the body makes to support fetal growth and development. By 42 weeks, it is starting to wear out because it was only made to be utilized for so long; the baby may not even get proper oxygen supply after 42 weeks either. Hence, a favorable time to induce is about 41 1/2 weeks. It feels very strange to almost play God in helping determine when our child will be born. As my mother and my grandmothers all had natural labors, I assumed genetics would be on my side and we would already be parents by now. Alas, if nothing happens by May 25th, I will be induced. I feel ashamed on one hand because my body doesn't do anything more these days than manufacture Braxton Hicks contractions; I really wanted to feel like I was in control of my body or that my body was "doing what God designed women's bodies to do: labor." But on the other hand, we have lived the whole 9th month and now into the 10th month waiting for me to go into labor, and with every day that passes, knowing that control must be relinquished to God's timing, because only He knows what day and time our baby will arrive. It's really their little secret right now. In addition, it is a relief to have a closure date on the horizon. We will call early in the morning on May 25th to see when the best time for us to come in will be. They will give me up to 3 doses of Cytotec to induce me in 9 hours, 1 every 3 hours. At the end of 9 hours, they will break my water depending on how my body takes to the Cytotec or they will send me home for a few days to let me go into labor naturally. If I don't go into labor naturally after a few days, they'll induce me again, this time potentially with Pitocin. If the baby's heartrate drops during that induction, I would have to have a C-section (worst case scenario, but hey, it happened to Joe's mom when he came into the world 17 days overdue.) So, PLEASE pray that I either go into labor on my own by May 25th or that my body takes to the Cytotec on May 25th.
Below is my good luck flower that one of Joe's 6th grade students made for me. Cutest thing ever.
We went to have a non-stress test done yesterday and, praise God, everything is going just fine with the baby. The goal with the non-stress tests are to prove that baby is, indeed, not stressed out, and if he/she is, then it would indicate inducing labor may be immanent or a C-section may be necessary. They hooked me up to two monitors strapped around my belly.
The machine the monitors were strapped to printed out this information.
In the lower picture, the squiggly line nearest to you is the baby's heartrate (ideal heartrate is about 120 to 160). The more sporadic black marks are when I felt any type of fetal movement. (I was given a button to press every time I felt the slightest movement.) The graph farthest away (bottom) tracked my uterine contractions. Often times, the baby is sound asleep and the technician has to wake him/her up to get an accurate test. They do this by administering gentle soundwaves to the mommy's tummy or giving mom juice so the glucose can reach the baby to stir him/her. Our baby was wide awake and ready to rumble. We listened to the heartbeat for about 40 minutes before they unhooked me and established that our baby was fine and dandy, getting good oxygen supply, and had a healthy heartrate. The only thing is that he/she is not ready to come out yet. Apparently, it just too snug and warm.
After the NST, we visited the midwife. She examined me and determined I am 2cm dilated and 80% effaced. She determined that my body is ready to be induced. We decided on a Wednesday, May 25th induction date. Now, induction is the last thing I really wanted to consider in regards to bringing our child in the world. (Actually, C-sections are, to be honest.) But as of the afternoon on Friday, May 20st, my body just wasn't going into labor. My midwife wanted to at least schedule an induction for sometime next week, while still giving my body a chance to go into labor. Past 42 weeks, the mother and baby incur risks. The placenta is a temporary organ the body makes to support fetal growth and development. By 42 weeks, it is starting to wear out because it was only made to be utilized for so long; the baby may not even get proper oxygen supply after 42 weeks either. Hence, a favorable time to induce is about 41 1/2 weeks. It feels very strange to almost play God in helping determine when our child will be born. As my mother and my grandmothers all had natural labors, I assumed genetics would be on my side and we would already be parents by now. Alas, if nothing happens by May 25th, I will be induced. I feel ashamed on one hand because my body doesn't do anything more these days than manufacture Braxton Hicks contractions; I really wanted to feel like I was in control of my body or that my body was "doing what God designed women's bodies to do: labor." But on the other hand, we have lived the whole 9th month and now into the 10th month waiting for me to go into labor, and with every day that passes, knowing that control must be relinquished to God's timing, because only He knows what day and time our baby will arrive. It's really their little secret right now. In addition, it is a relief to have a closure date on the horizon. We will call early in the morning on May 25th to see when the best time for us to come in will be. They will give me up to 3 doses of Cytotec to induce me in 9 hours, 1 every 3 hours. At the end of 9 hours, they will break my water depending on how my body takes to the Cytotec or they will send me home for a few days to let me go into labor naturally. If I don't go into labor naturally after a few days, they'll induce me again, this time potentially with Pitocin. If the baby's heartrate drops during that induction, I would have to have a C-section (worst case scenario, but hey, it happened to Joe's mom when he came into the world 17 days overdue.) So, PLEASE pray that I either go into labor on my own by May 25th or that my body takes to the Cytotec on May 25th.
Below is my good luck flower that one of Joe's 6th grade students made for me. Cutest thing ever.
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