In the Quiet Moments

In the quiet moments in the middle of the night while I nurse you in the dark, I do the closest thing I can to pray. Over your tiny body, I will all the hopes and dreams that I have for you.

I wish for you to eat until your belly is full.
I wish for you to sleep long and peacefully.
I wish for you to grow to be strong and healthy.
I wish that school will be easy for you.
I wish for you to learn to work hard.
I wish for you to have many friends.
I wish for your days to be filled with laughter.
I wish that I can be a shoulder for you to cry on when you need it (even when you're grown.)
I wish for you to find things that you love to do.
I wish that you will call me often once you leave home.
I wish for you to find a career path that fulfills you.
I wish for you to find a love as true as the one I have found for your dad.
I wish that someday you will give me grandbabies that I can love the way that I love you.

So Far

I have only been your mom for 8 short weeks, but I already have some thoughts on being a mom so far.

First, let me say, I now find it hard to believe that I ever thought my life was complete without you. There was a time that Daddy and I thought we weren't going to have any kids. We thought life was good with just the two of us- and it was- but it was just nothing compared to the life we have with you. The joy you bring us. The love we have discovered for you and the deeper love we have for each other.

I adore all the precious moments with you.
Gazing at each other.
Cuddling in the early morning, curled around your tiny body in my own fetal position, your head pressed under my chin and your toes tickling the tops of my thighs.
Your tiny arms thrown around my neck in a sweet embrace when I hold you up on my shoulder.
Watching your little mouth curl up into an awkward grin.
Nuzzling your little baby head against my cheek, feeling the peach fuzz of your hair, deeply inhaling your baby scent.
Feeling your relax in my arms as you ready for sleep.

There are challenging times, too. When I just want a moment to myself or another hour of sleep. Times when I feel myself counting the minutes until your next nap, or hurrying about to try to get something done before you wake up. And I remind myself to treasure these moments, too. You are already growing up so fast!

You smile.
You almost laugh.
You follow us with your eyes.
You hold your hands open.
You calmly swing and watch the world.
You bat at your toys on your play mat.
You love a warm bath, and feeling water run down over your head.
You love to sit up holding my hands. You love to "stand up" like a big boy.
You love to be able to see everything around you, and don't want to be left out. You eat like a champ (and spit up like one, too, when we least expect it.)

I can't even imagine how life with you will continue to change, stretching me to grow every day. I only hope that I am up for the challenge. I tell you lots that "Mama takes care of you, as best she can," while you holler at me. I hope that we are building trust, and love, and warmth, as we get to know each other.

So far, from what I see, you are pretty amazing.

Gazing

Christopher Robin looked long and hard at Pooh's face... "Are you learning me by heart?" asked Pooh. "No," he answered, "I know you by heart. You are inside my heart."

First Month Refelections

A whole month has flown by and it seems like just yesterday that you joined our little family. It also feels like I have known you forever.

There isn't much you can do yet, but I wonder at your ability to hold your big head and follow me with your eyes. A smile from you warms my heart all day (and even the middle of the night.) You also have some pretty spectacular pooping ability when it comes to projectile elimination. And you can suck your pacifier like a champ. (I was so glad to get my finger back.)

After help from Auntie Sarah, you have a good night routine set up. 3 hours at a stretch and Daddy helps with the night feeding so Mommy is a better rested and happier person. You are eating well and filling your belly so that you can grow, grow, grow. In your first two weeks you gained over a pound and I imagine by now you have repeated that feat. Your lungs also show great capacity for speaking your mind.

You've had a lot of small adventures and Mommy loves to show you off. All of your family and extended family has loved to snuggle your baby body and kiss that little soft spot on the top of your sweet head.

You continue to be my little bug, my birdie (my angry bird when you cry), my sweet boy.
And I get to love you forever.

(Right back atcha, Mama.)

No Greater Love

The days and nights are tiring, but I am trying to soak up every minute.
All the little details that I love.

The soft hair smoothed over his head.
His tiny perfect features.
A deep little sigh after he finished eating and has gotten his fill.
The way he grasps my hand with his when I let him suckle my finger.
His tiny warm body curled up on my chest as we sleep.

We have been getting out a bit and I feel a bit stronger each day.
I am already amazed at the way I see him growing before my eyes.
His face is filling out, and his whole body is stronger in my arms.

His little cry can break my heart
but it is absolutely magical when all he needs is for me to hold him.
When I pick him up and he instantly relaxes.

We can sit and just watch him sleep.
We can sit and just watch him make his little faces.
And when he opens his eyes and gazes up at you
even if you are out of focus
you know there is no greater love.

Smitten

Time is flying by as I count the days of pure love for this boy.
Thinking back on the first 24 hours in the hospital when he just slept and we just looked at him in wonder.
Wow. He was inside me!
Yeah. We get to keep him.
So much time is spent with his ear close to my lips, whispering sweet messages to this boy I get to call my son.

There were a couple nights of frustration while we learned our nursing routine together. I'm not sure he knew what he was getting into when he signed up for rookie parents.
I was lucky to have great lactation support while I was in the hospital and will be forever grateful for the nursing help from Marian and to have had nurses like Leighann. Certain people have a gift for what they do and should take pride and pleasure in the celebration of a great latch and let down. Or the joy in helping you laugh at your old lady hunch as you shuffle to the bathroom for the first time after they remove your catheter.
Healing is a powerful business.

Now the routine at home is becoming more routine. Lindan eats every hour and a half to two hours. Sleeps a lot. Gazes contentedly into my face making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. I just get to whisper, I'm your mommy, and grin.
It's tiring but I'm in love with every minute of it. Even when he peed through our pajamas twice in one night (darn newborn diapers) and even when he just wanted to suck on my finger for an hour instead of letting me sleep.
It broke my heart to lay him in his crib last night and not spend all night with him on my chest. He just seemed so far away. I was grateful when he got fussy enough that I could resume my cuddle guilt-free and let him nuzzle down into my chest, skin to skin.
We've been loving our stream of visitors who have been taking care of us well. Then its just fun to watch them enjoy this boy almost as much as we do. Its such a blessing to have my mom here for this time too. I don't know how I'd do it without her. She's the one calming him down with sweet Oma songs and keeping watch so I can shower now that Todd's working again. She's also the one who makes me sit still and nap while I can.
And then there is daddy Todd, who is completely smitten at the wonder of this boy. His little hands. His long fingers and toes. His baby reflexes to root or stretch. His tiny little bum. His cry that sounds like a seagull. The sheer power of his suck. His hair that gets a little crazy. His ability to melt your heart.
Yes, I guess we're all a little smitten around here.

Thanks be to Lauren!

Lindan’s Birth Story

The doula/friends perspective

You know you are good friends when you receive the following text, “Does your mucus plug look like snot?”  I was working in Annapolis and it was a busy day.  I responded to the text with a quick “yes”, giving it very little thought because losing your mucus plug means labor might start any time in the next few weeks. 

It was your due date, dear Lindan, but what babies are actually born on their due dates?  Several hours later, another text arrives.  “I might be in labor” your mother tells me.  Excitement overwhelms me and I tell my colleagues that I have to leave immediately after I see the last patient. Not too long after receiving that text I call your laboring mom to see how she is doing.  She tells me that your dog Easton won’t leave her side because he knows something is up.  Your mom is pacing around the house as the contractions get stronger and stronger.  Your dad, who had gone to work that morning, was taking a little nap in preparation for a potentially long night.  While we are on the phone a contraction comes.  Deep breaths.  You can do this.  Swaying back and forth, back and forth.  Your momma is really in the thick of labor so it is time for dad to get out of bed and call the midwife. 

Some more time go by and the next call I receive from your mom is a little panicked.  Contractions are strong.  They are lasting longer than the breaks in between and she needs her birth team around her.  While your mom and dad drive to Annapolis where your birth center is located, I go to the grocery store to stock up on snacks.  My phone is in my hand so there is no way to miss a single call or text from your laboring mother.  Fruit, hummas, cookies, trail mix, root beer, granola bars, bubbly water, and a yogurt make their way into my cart and then off I go to the birth center.  A subway sandwich to fuel your poppa is also picked up on my way to the birth center. 

We all arrive at almost the same time and the parking lot is full of cars.  Your parents get out of the car and I see your mom’s face for the first time.  She is focused, strong, and a little scared.  Inside the birth center there are people everywhere with nurses and midwives assisting women and babies in every direction.  Your mom stops right inside the door and the nurse looks at her face, immediately knowing that a lot of hard work has already been done.  The nurse’s arms surround your momma and tears of relief, fear, excitement, and love flow from your mom’s eyes.  The time is really here.  The birth team is assembled and it is time to meet you, little Lindan. 

The room is freshly cleaned, peaceful and homey.  A queen sized bed greets your parents where we learn that your mother has done the longest part of labor all on her own.  Nine cm dilated, completely effaced, and time for you to come down and out.  The nurses and midwives scurry around to fill the tub, set up the birth pool, and prepare the room for action.  The water relieves and relaxes your mom and helps her regroup and recharge for your birth.  Belly floating, toes wiggling, and fingers perfectly propped just outside the water’s edge so as not to get pruney; your momma labors.  Your dad is his wonderfully centered and calm self.  He holds your mom’s head, kisses her on her cheek, pours water over her belly, and gives her sips of root beer between contractions.  The reprieve from hard, active, painful labor is lovely but I knew that we had to keep this process going in order to meet you. 

For the next six hours your momma fought her pain, conquered her fears, and willingly tried everything anyone suggested to move you down and out.  The midwife put herbal remedies under mom’s tongue and rubbed acupressure points throughout her pelvis and legs.  Your mom was up on her feet, squatting, rocking, dancing, and pushing.  You really didn’t want to move your head.  You were confused about what to do and tired, just like your mom, from the many hours of labor.  It was time for medicine’s help.  We have medicine, doctors, and surgery for a reason and it was time to use all of our resources to help your mom cope and bring you into her arms. 

The hospital staff was swift, kind, and understanding.  Your mother’s physical pain was relieved almost instantly which lifted her spirits and settled her mind.  The comfort of Oma’s hug and grounding words of experience also helped your family to know that this was the right journey.  We continued to wait and see how you were tolerating the stress of labor, little Lindan.  We gave you time, support, and space to find your way into the pelvis but that just didn’t feel right to you.  So, after trying all of our midwifery and medical tricks, a doctor came and lifted you out of your mother’s belly and placed you in your poppa’s arms. 

We were all tired.  You too were tired.  It had been a long, complete, exhilarating journey.  So, after a welcome, and some encouragement to nurse, off I went to sleep knowing that you, your momma, your poppa, and your oma were all falling in love with each other. 

Welcome Lindan Todd!

The story begins: Thursday, May 10, 2012
I went to the midwife on Wednesday and she told me that it felt like baby wasn't going to come for another week. The baby was still too high. I mentally relaxed and made up a renewed to do list to keep me busy for another week.

Wednesday night, I woke up many times with cramping in my belly and back, but tried to sleep as much as possible. Those feelings weren't new. Also I had a bit of a gush that I thought might be my water breaking, but I wasn't sure.

Thursday morning, I woke up about 6:30 and by 7, contractions had started and were about 5 minutes apart, lasting 45 seconds. Again, nothing new here. I had had a number of nights when I was up for a couple of hours of contractions but then would wake up with nothing in the morning. I assumed that this was the same deal. After all, who actually has a baby on their due date?

At 11 or so I took a walk thinking that might make things happen (or make them stop.) Afterwards, about noon, when the contractions hadn't stopped, I called the midwife to get a second opinion. She told me it sounded like early labor, but I still wasn't convinced that it wasn't false labor. I texted Lauren (doula, midwife, and friend extraordinaire) and we talked through my signs. She confirmed what the midwife said, sounded like baby was on his way.



I called Todd and the first thing he said was "You don't sound like you're in labor yet" before I said, "Actually... that's why I am calling..." He was going to work a bit longer until he decided it might be best to come home and nap- we had a big night ahead of us.

Todd came home and laid down. I took a shower to deal with the pain. At 3, I called the midwife and she said I sounded too calm, but just call back when I thought I was ready to come in. ("How will I know?" "Oh, you'll know.") I called Lauren and said, "Tell me I can do this" and she did. Talking to her through a few contractions, she said, "Well, it might be helpful for the midwife to hear you have a contraction..." And then, to my relief I finally got a hold of my mom on the phone (mid-contraction) and she left right away for the drive down.

I labored a bit longer, walking from room to room with Easton following me around. It helped to stroke his head during my contractions for a while. About 4, Lauren convinced me to wake Todd up to get some more support and start to get packed. Contractions were less that three minutes apart and lasting almost a minute.

With Todd awake, we got everything into the car about 5:00 and started to drive to the birthing center. We dropped Easton off with Auntie Beth and Uncle Chris... mid contraction. I was bracing myself, gripping the door handle, breathing as best I could. Lauren talked me through a few more over the phone before I hung up just to focus on coping. I visualized my happy place (always my grandparents old farm house in upstate NY, and the creek I would play in there.)

Just when I thought the car ride would never end, we arrived at the birth center. Thank God. I was thinking to myself, if they tell me I'm only 4 centimeters, I am all done, I don't think I can do this... and then trying to correct my negative self-talk. YOU CAN DO THIS.

We got inside and I froze in my tracks. The nurse grabbed me and hugged me and swayed with me back and forth as I got through the next contraction, overwhelmed by emotion. Then we walked in and the midwife checked me. 9 centimeters. Oh, thank God! A big chunk of labor was behind me- I COULD do this. I knew I could. I got in the tub and relaxed a bit, then the pool for as long as I could. Lauren knew just when to tell me I needed to get moving and change positions though, which renewed the intensity of my contractions each time. Back to the bed. Toilet. Bed.

Time passed.

Todd applied pressure to my back. Lauren force fed me some jelly beans and root beer to keep my energy up. I labored. I focused.

The baby wouldn't move. He was still very high. The midwife tried her tricks on my belly to see if she could encourage him. We laughed as she told me I had a "membrane of steel" because while I was leaking lots of water, it never really broke. We developed a possible plan to head to the hospital now that they were seeing some maconium in my fluid and his heart rate was dropping a bit with the stress every time I had a contraction. Some time later, (some difficult time, I might add,) he was still being stubborn. Mommy was exhausted. So much pushing and coping.

And so the decision was made to try the hospital to get me some pain relief so that I could relax, the midwife could really break my water, and hopefully baby might start to come down.

I was feeling no pain by the time my mom met us in the hospital. I was out of it and even more tired. The midwife got ready to break my water, when it broke on its own. Unfortunately, instead of moving us forward, it took us back. The bag of water had been what was pushing us to 9 centimeters and without it, I went back to 7. An hour or so later, after listening to his heart rate decelerate each time I contracted, no progress meant that it was time to move to plan C and have the C-Section. It wasn't the plan, but I was determined to be happy with the process, however my body needed to take care of us.

It was a bit nerve-wracking, but the doctors were great and I fully trusted them. Great bedside manner and Todd by my side kept me relaxed. Then we just waited. It felt a bit powerless, but all I could think about was getting to finally meet this little man I'd been dreaming about for so long. Daddy did great and baby came out crying.

Tears in my eyes, Todd went with baby to get him all cleaned up and checked out. This may have been the longest part of the day, listening to my boy, but not yet able to see him. And then, of course, they brought him back to me. The best moment of my life so far. I wanted nothing more than to hold him, but had to settle for whispering to him and telling him that he was absolutely perfect and always would be. My boy. My Lindan Todd.

They took care of me, and Todd went with Lindan as they took care of him. And time crawled until I was all fixed up and ready to head to recovery for my skin time with this handsome, perfect boy.

Long, dark hair. Long eyelashes. Two dimples. Perfect ears. Ten fingers. Ten toes.
And how can you not fall in love?

We spent time snuggling and enjoying quiet time with daddy until we could finally be moved up to our room. We met Oma and Lauren who got to snuggle the prize and fall in love too. Then we settled into the reality that he is here and he is ours and we get to keep him forever.

He slept well for the first 24 hours and we all tried to get some rest. Lauren went home with a huge thank you and Oma and Daddy have taken turns resting at home and staying with me at the hospital. Its hard to be a patient when you want to take care of your new baby. I have been so well cared for, and have steadily improved. Now I await our car ride home, knowing he really is ours. Forever. And that's how long I get to love him.

Carrying it with pride

i am getting a bit bigger.

and my feet are a bit further away.

and the steering wheel is a whole lot closer.

but it all makes me proud
when i think of what i'm growing.
what we've created.

there's a lot to be said
for this waiting
and the anticipation of finding out who you are
and who you'll be.

the midwives say that you are comfy
and not in a hurry quite yet.
so i will try to relax
and enjoy this feeling of y.o.u.

i will put my feet up
and nap
and feel your kicks and hiccups.
and try to soak it all in

while it lasts.

Ready and Waiting

 the bags are packed

 the mobile is hung

 the laundry is washed

 the necessities standing by.

 the toys are ready for playing

 even the giant rubber ducky

 and there's a stack of books just waiting to be read

 and elmer's waiting to greet you

 bright, loving elmer.

it's all just waiting for you to come home.