For Her, We are Thankful

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

The Birth Story: Her Perspective

I realized while recounting the birth story to my friend, Jenny, a couple of weeks ago that I really should get the entire saga written out now while I can still put the pieces and parts together in my mind. I would hate to start forgetting too many of the details. I still hope that Jarrett will get a chance to tell the story from his perspective because we obviously lived that evening in very different ways.

I had been experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions for many a day before this particular Wednesday afternoon (9/3) at work when I began to notice that they seemed to be coming at a more consistent pace, so I started writing down the times at which I felt each contraction. When I realized they were coming every 20 minutes, and then every 15, I started getting excited and called Jarrett at work to let him know. We were e-mailing and calling each other, and he was keeping written tabs on his end as well. I ended up leaving work early that afternoon because of the excitement and also because I was quite uncomfortable (and had been for days, sitting in that office chair).

By the time I got home the contractions were more like ten minutes apart, so Jarrett and I really started thinking that the baby might be coming soon. I even called my doula and let her know what was going on, and she told me she thought I would probably have the baby within the next 24 hours. Jarrett, being the sweet husband that he is, came home from work bearing DVDs and snacks to keep us going through the night, since we figured we might be up all night at home waiting for things to really get going. By later that night, my contractions were coming every five minutes, but were not increasing in strength. We watched our movies, ate our snacks, and stayed up til' all hours of the night, but things just stayed the same. We finally went to bed and I was able to sleep fine.

Contractions continued at five-minute intervals Thursday morning, so I stayed home from work (as did Jarrett) thinking that surely something would happen. But, alas, things stayed the same all day and even into Friday. Jarrett and I were going on walks, eating spicy food at our favorite Decatur taqueria, and basically doing everything in our power to kick it into high gear. I almost went into work Friday (Jarrett did) because I felt silly calling in again to say, "Yes, I'm still having contractions and, no, still no baby." But I stayed home anyway. By that evening the contractions started coming on a bit stronger, though still not to the point that I couldn't walk or talk through them. I called both the doula and the midwife to give them an update, and both gave similar advice: eat well, try to sleep well, and keep us posted. My midwife also threw in suggestions of taking a bath and enjoying a glass of wine -- I did both. But first Jarrett and I ended up going out to a really nice dinner at Cakes and Ale with Kate and Tim. They wanted to treat us to possibly the last dinner we'd enjoy with them as non-parents, and despite my grimacing through some of the contractions at the dinner table, we had a lovely time. While there, a couple from our church who we don't really know that well came in, and we kind of smiled and nodded, but we found out later a funny little story that unfolded while we were all there. Apparently the woman-half of the couple was texting my doula (who also goes to our church) while at the restaurant, asking her if she was up to jogging the next morning, and my doula texted back to say that she'd like to, but had a client who was in the early stages of labor, so she might have to go to the hospital at any moment. So the woman at the restaurant texted back and asked, "Is it Christi Helms, by any chance?" And the doula replied, "Yes, why?" And she texted back, "Well she is here at the restaurant we are at, and she is definitely looking like she is struggling a bit."

I did not sleep as well Friday night, with contractions waking me every once in awhile, and they pretty much remained at the level they had climbed to throughout Saturday. I continued to walk and take showers and baths, and was really becoming quite frustrated by the slow progress. Jarrett and I went to Fellini's for lunch to break up the monotony. But by about 4:30 a.m. Sunday morning, I was awoken by a significantly stronger contraction. I got up and started timing, hoping that maybe they would be a little closer together, but they still seemed to be about five minutes apart. I woke Jarrett and told him not to worry, but that I was going to go walk up and down the street. I didn't care that it was still dark. I had decided the baby needed to make its arrival that day. So I walked for awhile and then came back in and ate some scrambled eggs and toast with honey, which was also recommended by my midwife and had become my staple meal in preparation for having the baby.

The contractions remained strong, and I was actually having to somewhat concentrate and breathe through them at that point, so we called the doula and let her know things seemed to finally be progressing a bit. She said she was going to go ahead and go to church, and that we could touch base after. So I varied my positions as each contraction came -- sitting on an exercise ball, sitting on the couch, lying on the floor, getting into the yoga cat pose on my yoga mat, etc. I could still walk through the contractions, but was definitely having to stop talking and breathe through them. The doula came over after church, and we sat around and chatted and she observed while I dealt with the contractions. She still didn't seem to think we should be in any rush to get to the hospital, and after awhile we even decided to walk across the street to the park so that I could walk up and down a flight of stairs to help things possibly move along even faster. Finally around 2:00 p.m. or so, I decided it sounded quite nice to get into a bathtub. Our quaint clawfoot tub does not really allow ample room for a good, relaxing soak, and so did not sound good enough for me. I wanted the big tub at the hospital. So I asked the doula what she thought, and she agreed that that's what the tubs at the hospital are for, and that it was not a terrible idea to go ahead and head up there. I called the midwife and she agreed, and said that Room 6 (the room with the big walk-in tub) was open and waiting for me (yay!). So Jarrett and I gathered up our bags, pillows, snacks, etc., and headed out the door. Kate and Tim already had Merckx -- they actually took him Friday evening in case we headed to the hospital in the middle of the night.

The contractions felt even stronger on the way to the hospital, and riding in the car the 45 minutes there was none too pleasant. I, however, tried to take my mind off of the ride by calling/texting a few people to let them know what was going on. Other than that, I drank my glass of apple juice and just prayed that I would be dilated enough to warrant staying at the hospital once we got there.

I think we got to the hospital around 3:00 p.m. The walk from the parking lot up to the Women's Center seemed a bit surreal. I remember getting a bit turned around in the hallways, and having to stop every so often to lean against a wall and breathe through a contraction. People must have thought I was crazy. Then again, they were probably used to it. I do remember being asked if I needed a wheelchair, but I refused. There was no way I was going to START this process with such help. I needed to stay strong, right? Upon arriving at the nurses station, they directed me to the room and my nurse had me get into a hospital gown so she could put the fetal monitor on me to do the initial check of the baby and evaluate my contractions. While getting the reading, she went through a slew of questions, of which I hope I answered accurately. Thankfully Jarrett was there to guide me in the right direction.

Once the reading was finished, the monitor was removed and was never put on me again. From there on out, they checked the baby's heartbeat with a handheld Doppler device. I got onto the hospital bed, and the midwife soon came in to check how dilated I was. Thankfully I was already five to six centimeters, which was absolute music to my ears. Because my bag of water was bulging, and because I had been dealing with contractions for so long, the midwife asked if I wanted her to go ahead and break it to speed up the process. I immediately said no -- I had it in my head that I wanted everything to unfold as naturally as possible. That and I also remembered one of my friends telling me the breaking of her water was quite painful. I asked the midwife about the involved pain, and she assured me that her checking my dilation was more painful than the breaking of the water would be. I still gave it a negative. She said that was fine, but that if it had not broken on its own by, say 6:00 or 7:00 p.m., she thought we should go ahead and do it. As she headed for the door, I started thinking about the last few days and how ready I was to meet my little one, and I stopped her and told her to just go ahead and do it -- I wanted this to happen now! And, boy, did it ever.

The midwife was right -- she was an expert at breaking the water. It didn't hurt at all, but just felt extremely strange as what seemed like buckets and buckets of fluid was released. Just minutes after, contractions started coming on really strong, with not much of a break in between, and I decided to get in the shower while the nurse worked on filling up the tub (a nearly 15-minute process). By the time I was in the shower, I was really in pain, and just relished in the hot water running over me as I sat on a birthing ball and made an attempt at washing myself down with antibacterial body soap (something the hospital likes you to do in preparation for a waterbirth). One of the poor nurses even drew my blood as I hung my arm out of the shower curtain -- apparently a first for her, but I continued to tell her how thankful I was that she did it that way. No one was getting me out of that shower until that bathtub was full.

From the time I got out of the shower to the birth of the baby, I was truly in my own little world. I was aware of my surroundings and those around me, but it was almost like I was experiencing tunnel vision because of my deep concentration as to what was going on with my body. As I mentioned in previous posts, Jarrett made various playlists for me so that I could listen to music during labor and delivery, and it really was not until after the birth that I realized how much that music really helped. Many of those songs continue to take me back to that day when I hear them now. At one point I heard Jarrett and the doula exclaiming that the tub was overflowing. The nurse constantly regulated the temperature of the water, and I guess had left the room while the hot water was running to warm it up. I heard what was going on, but didn't even break out of my concentration to look or say anything. I found out later they had to bring in something like 40 towels to sop up all the water, and I just did not even have a clue. When I first got into the tub, the midwife took the child blow-up water tubes I brought in and placed one of my legs through one and one of my arms through the other, which allowed me to kind of float there on my side. I was pretty much going through the transition period of labor by the time I got in the tub, and, according to my doula, was probably in that phase for about an hour longer than most other women experience. At one point they checked my dilation and I was at nine centimeters, so the nurse offered to try to stretch my cervix that extra centimeter so I could start pushing. That sounded great to me... until she actually attempted it. That was the one time I actually screamed during the entire process, and she decided we better just let nature takes its course. Besides that attempt by the nurse, getting through that last centimeter was truly the most painful part of labor for me. Contractions were right on top of the other and were extremely painful. Jarrett, the doula, and the nurse kept placing cool washcloths on my forehead, and I remember asking again and again for water. At one point I remember picturing getting the epidural, but then reminded myself that not only was the needle going to be huge -- and shoved into my back -- but that I would also have to get out of the tub and give up my waterbirth if I received it. And that just was not going to happen.

Another surreal moment for me was when I was approaching the time to push, and hearing those around me talking about the fact that the midwife was not yet back to the hospital. Apparently she had gone home to try to get some rest, as her other patients were experiencing lulls, and she thought I would progress more slowly than it did. Again, I could hear the words, but did not react. Okay... the midwife is not here... but it sounds like she is on her way... whatever. The nurse said that if I felt like I wanted to push, to let her know, and I pretty much immediately told her I felt like I wanted to try. So I started pushing under her watch, but the midwife arrived not too long after. Really, though, there was no hurry, as I ended up pushing for two-and-a-half hours. It was a bit of a relief to be out of transition, but pushing took a lot of effort, and at one point during the process, my midwife looked at me and acted a bit shocked because my face and neck had swollen so much. I was putting so much into the pushes that I had really strained the upper-part of my body. The swelling went down somewhat immediately following the birth, but lingered for days. My midwife called me her "little chipmunk." Toward the tailend of the pushing, I really started to feel somewhat frustrated. I could feel the baby's head come out, but as soon as I let up at all on the push, I could feel it slowly retract. Everyone around me was commenting on the head full of dark hair, which just made me more and more excited and anxious to see the little one. So I tried harder and harder. I cannot fully express in words how wonderful that last push felt at 9:23 p.m. Just imagine doing the most difficult thing you've ever physically endured and doing it for hours, all in anticipation of attaining that one thing you have been waiting months and months for. To push that baby out into the world and hold it in my arms for the first time was the biggest relief and the hugest release of adrenaline that I have ever felt. I went from extreme exertion to complete ecstasy. I remember being handed my baby, looking up at Jarrett with a huge smile on my face, and saying something to the effect of: "I did it. We did it. Look at her -- she is beautiful."

So would I do a waterbirth again? I think the first question is would I go through a birth again? Even now, almost three months later, it is still too fresh in my mind to even contemplate. I am told that I will forget the pain. And -- because we have always thought we would have two children -- I trust that someday I will forget. And will just remember the joy. And if we do have another child, I don't think I would want to change a thing. I will drive the 45 minutes to an hour to all of my appointments just to be with my midwife again. And I am willing to make that 45-minute drive to North Fulton Regional while in labor as well. The staff was wonderful. They supported me in my wish to have a natural birth to the fullest extent. The waterbirth was great -- still painful, but I have to think that floating there somewhat weightless had to help somewhat. Because I don't know what it would have been like on "land" though, I guess I really cannot make a true comparison. And because I made it through with no drugs, Elsa was incredibly alert following delivery and had no trouble feeding right away. Despite the pain, it was a truly amazing experience. Yes, I would do it all again.

It's Bumbo Time!

Her head is still a bit wobbly, but I decided to give her Bumbo seat a try anyway today just to be new and different. Look at how cute she is attempting to sit up like a big girl. She was even showing some interest in the little crinkly stuffed butterfly... but still can't quite figure out how to work those hands.

Growing Girl

Here is our little girl in a six-month-sized outfit. As you can see, it's a little big on her, but most of her three-month one-piece outfits are already too small. I tried squeezing her into a couple for a day or two, but it was a little sad to see her not be able to fully stretch out her legs.

She is smiling quite a lot these days, and has also started cooing, which -- trust me -- just melts your heart when you hear her. I have a lot of fun just sitting her facing me on my lap and holding little meaningless conversations and exchanging big grins.

The sleeping-through-the-night phase has ceased at least temporarily. I'm not sure if Merckx has been waking her up with the clickety-clack of his nails or if it's because we cut her white noise off after she's been asleep about an hour or two. Or maybe she's just going through another growth spurt! There is no telling. It's true that just when you think you have everything figured out, the little one goes and changes everything up on you.

Two-Month Appointment

First, the stats: Elsa now weighs in at 11 pounds, 3 ounces (still right at the 75th percentile), is 24 inches long (still hovering around the 95th percentile), and I didn't get the exact head circumference, but she's at the 75th percentile. So she is growing well, and Dr. Owen is pleased. However, there are other issues we are having to deal with that actually prevented the doctor from administering the first round of vaccinations today. The poor little girl is still dealing with acid reflux. She ran out of the medication we were giving her post-ER-visit about a week ago, and I told the doctor that I didn't really think it was doing much for her anyway. Sure, it probably did help heal the initial problem, but it certainly has not made her any less fussy. Of course I knew I could count on Elsa to act out that fussiness in front of Dr. Owen, which actually did help her see what we were dealing with. She again told me that this just is not the norm for babies -- that something must be bothering her. At first she said we should continue her on the original acid reducer, but as the appointment progressed, other issues emerged. We have been treating what we thought was just a diaper rash for a few days now, and it had started looking better over the weekend, but then looked a bit worse today. Dr. Owen took one look at it and said it is yeast. She said this could be caused by a number of issues -- something in my diet that she is allergic to, something tied to the acid reflux problem, something related to the medication she has been on, etc. Elsa again had a fussy moment and was arching her back quite dramatically, and it was then that it was decided to put her on a stronger medication for the reflux. Neither one of us really wants to have her on something stronger, but both of us do want her to feel better. I can't stand to see the little one in pain. So we are going to try this medication for two weeks, and if there is no obvious improvement, she will be taken off of it and I will likely try the no-dairy diet again -- this time longer than two days. I have been trying to limit my dairy intake anyway, but I have definitely not been avoiding it completely. We are also applying anti-fungal cream to Elsa's diaper area, and have her on two types of probiotics -- one that is more general, and one that is specifically formulated to fight fungus. I sure hope she starts feeling better soon. So because of all of this, there were no shots today. Dr. Owen did not want to put her little body through anything else at this point. Typically she would not see us again until Elsa is four months, but we are going back in a month and Elsa will likely get her first vaccinations then. So we will just be a month behind Dr. Owen's schedule. No big deal.

As for the good news, 9:00-9:30 p.m. seems to be the new magic bedtime, as Elsa slept ten hours straight last night! Hooray!

Say What?!?!

Elsa is two months old today, and to celebrate she decided to sleep through the night last night!!! She slept nine hours straight and allowed me to sleep eight! I don't know if this is here to stay, but we will take it and enjoy it for now, for sure!

Elsa's two-month checkup with Dr. Owen is on Monday, so I'll have the update for you then.

Here she is this morning practicing her boxing moves...

Elsa's Graduation

Elsa graduated to her crib in her own room yesterday, which was a big step for both parents and baby. She started out sleeping in a cosleeper in the middle of our bed during her first week at home, and from there slept in a bassinet in our room. I had originally planned to take the big step on Friday, which is her two-month birthday. I had it all laid out -- Jarrett and I would set up camp on the floor in her bedroom, we would swaddle her and put her in her crib, and we would all camp out as a family so that I'd be sure she'd survive her first night in the new locale. Yes, I realize that if she just suddenly stopped breathing for no apparent reason, it would really make no difference whether we were in the room or not (though I have read studies that say a baby can somehow regulate their breathing with their parents' if they arre in the same room). But it would at least ease some of my worry. And a mother's sanity is not to be messed with.

But all my plans were tossed aside yesterday when I had a breakthrough with napping. Just as I was becoming worried that she was never going to be a good napper again (we've had some trouble over the past few days), everything changed... at least for now. We started out the day with what was supposed to be an early 8:45 a.m. appointment with Margaret the Midwife up in Alpharetta (meaning leaving the house by 7:45 a.m.!) for my last post-partum appointment (everything looked fine, all the nurses doted over Elsa, it was great fun...). They didn't actually take me back to a room until after 10:00 a.m., so poor Elsa had to endure the wait -- and poor me had to try to get her to sleep every way possible during that time, which she was just not having. She did sleep in the car some, but still did not really conk out for a good nap. After getting home and feeding myself and Elsa (again), I decided to wear her in the baby carrier and go for a walk with Merckx in yet another attempt to get her to go to sleep. That worked, but when I got her back home and decided to lay her in her crib, she woke up not too long later. She was still obviously tired so I decided to swaddle her somewhat loosely in a blanket, lay her back down in the crib, and turn on her mobile. She cried for maybe a minute after the mobile had been playing awhile, but then was able to soothe herself to sleep. She slept from 1:45 p.m. until 4:15 p.m.! Then she woke up, I fed her and changed her, we played on her playmat until she was obviously getting tired again, and then I again swaddled her and repeated the process. She slept again from 5:30 p.m. until around 6:30 p.m. We attempted Community Group with her last night, and she made it through the beginning social part okay, but had a breakdown once the discussion actually started, so we left early. We bathed her, fed her, and had her down in her crib by 9:00 p.m. Jarrett did get her to go down in her crib at 9:00 the previous night, but we ended up moving her to the bassinet. This time we decided not to move her. Her first chunk of sleep was not as long as it has been (six or seven hours... it was more like four-and-a-half hours last night), but she slept longer than she has been for the second chunk, so it was just a trade-off. So we're trying the nap thing again today and will see how it goes. I might never get to leave the house again, but what the heck!

Elsa Does the AT

We decided we were in need of a getaway, and so decided to go back to Zydeco Moon with Tim and Kate over a long weekend this past Friday through Monday. We were there with them a year ago April for Tim's 30th birthday, and both Jarrett and I have gone up there one other time each on separate occasions -- Jarrett for a guys' weekend with Tim, and me for a girls' weekend with Kate and Val. This was Elsa's first road trip, and she really did quite well for a little one who isn't so fond of her carseat. She slept nearly the entire way from Atlanta to Gastonia, NC, where we met up with my parents to pass Merckx off to them (no pets allowed at the cabin, unfortunately), and she really only had one major breakdown as we drove through Blowing Rock and into Boone, but we deserved that one -- she was really hungry and needed a diaper change. She fussed a bit more on the drive home, but it still wasn't unbearable. The white noise we've loaded on the iPod did come in handy... and thankfully did not put us to sleep at the wheel.

We had a really nice time in the mountains. The weather was perfect, and although the fishing was not quite up to par with what Tim and Jarrett experienced in the past, it seemed they still had a nice time getting out and tossing the line. We (or I should say, Kate) cooked some fabulous meals and enjoyed some good wine and, of course, great company. The five of us made it up to Grayson Highlands again, and did a short hike along the Appalachian Trail, so I can now officially say that Elsa hiked a portion of the AT as an eight-week-old. Not bad, eh? Too bad she slept through most of it and missed out on the ponies, but I imagine she will appreciate it all more as she gets older and can actually comprehend her surroundings. I have to believe she enjoyed the clean mountain air as much as I, though. Visiting that area is truly refreshing for the soul.

The Most Wonderful Thing about Elsa...

...is that she's the only one!

Here is Elsa trying on her Halloween costume during the week leading up to Halloween.




And here she is on Halloween itself, on the banks of Helton Creek in Grassy Creek, NC, where we spent an extended weekend this past weekend. Her eyes just looked too captivating in the light there by the water... the photos don't do them justice.