I guess our birth story begins with a bet...
My wonderful husband has been begging me for MONTHS to be able to take his newborn son to a Rockies Game this season (in case you haven't realized, that would make our baby barely a month old). I, frankly, thought this was silly, but let Ryan make his case for months while I insisted the only way it would happen is if we got a nice little suite at the ballpark with air conditioning and private bathrooms. Knowing it would cost a fortune, Ryan would concede, and I was the happy victor!! :)
So when two weeks ago Ryan suggested we make a "wager" concerning when leo was born, I indulged him, because frankly I knew when Leo would be born. While Ryan was pleading his baseball case for months, I was pleading with God to allow our baby to be born on the feast of the Assumption of our Lady, five days before his due date but oh well; who wouldn't want their child to be born on Mary's day?? it seemed perfect to me!! So around August 10, Ryan made a bet: "I bet you Leo will be born on the weekend of the full moon." Ridiculous. That's just an Old Wives Tale. "I'll take that bet!" Here's what's at stake:
Ryan wins: Rockies game with Newborn son (this should be no surprise)
Jules wins: Leo gets to wear the ridiculously cute duck outfit that someone gave to us but Ryan proclaimed was "too feminine for his son"
And so we come to Saturday, August 13, the day of the full moon. Ryan had some people over to work on the remodel of our bedroom (still no furniture in that room at this point), and I decided to get organized and journeyed to the land of Target. While I was walking through the aisles trying to find the shelves (why does EVERYTHING in a store get moved around to accommodate college students?!), my water broke! Well, sort of....it was called a "slow leak," and frankly could have meant anything. I could have gone into labor that night, or it could have healed itself and it gone into labor a week later. When I got home and shared the news with ryan, to be honest neither of us thought it was really happening. There had been no contractions, no other signs, and our bags weren't packed...so it COULDN'T have been labor!
To be safe, Ryan and I made trips to the grocery store, finished our birth plan, packed our bags, and hung curtains (that last one wasn't completely necessary, but for some reason i really didn't want to come home to naked windows). After all the errands and remodel, we wrote out our list of "to-dos" for Sunday (because again, we denied that we were in labor), and went to bed exhausted.
At about 10 pm, I felt a "funny" feeling in my stomach. I thought I was just having back pain, but thought it was weird that the back pain lasted about a minute and then went away. You'd think after 12 weeks of a birth class i would have possibly realized it was a contraction, but remember, we were in denial. I told Ryan it was false labor and we went back to bed...until 8 minutes later, another one came. Still denied it, thought it was just because we were so tired, and went "back to bed." 7 minutes later, another....7 after that, another, until I finally got up, put 27 Dresses in the DVD player, and tried to convince myself still that there was no way we were in real labor....
fast forward to 3 am. Contractions were about 4 minutes apart, we were still at our house but were doing great, but I noticed all of my contractions were in my tailbone. I thought that was strange until I realized what I had been dreading for months...BACK LABOR. For those who don't know, back labor is when the baby is turned face up, making his back dig into your spine...yeah, ouch. My mom had two back labors, and I had dreaded it would happen to me but had no idea how painful it would be! Goodness, it was painful! I offered as much as I could to Jesus, felt a good amount of self-loathing and self-pity, and tried my best to continue on the way. I figured if I was far enough along when we got to the hospital (5 or so centimeters), then we would continue naturally and go the distance.
Our wonderful doula Pam came over about 3:00, and one hour later we were making the half-hour drive to the hospital (that was icky, i never knew the highway was so BUMPY!) We arrived at about 5 am and I held my breath: PLEASE Jesus let me be at least 5 centimeters! Sure enough, we were at 6 and 100 percent effaced (I really don't feel like explaining what that means)!! horray! Victory! Two hours later, we were at 8 centimeters, and an hour after that, we were at 9 1/2. Ryan, Pam, myself, my doctor and all my nurses were ecstatic. This was looking like the "perfect" labor! Nurses started coming in telling me it would "be any moment," I was baring the back labor knowing I would get to meet my baby before 11 am. It was wonderful!
And then everything...just...stopped.
Well, not everything...the contractions were still ridiculously close together and strong. At one point they spread out to abut 6 minutes apart, giving me short spurts of a nap, but then they would show up again, only to get more painful as I got more and more tired. And every hour I was checked only to hear the same thing..."9 1/2 centimeters, 0 station...for some reason baby won't move further." Not exactly what I wanted to hear.
For almost 6 hours Leo was stuck in what they call "transition." I was exhausted...16 hours of natural labor only to be completely disheartened...was I ever going to meet my baby?? My wonderful doctor broke the rest of my water bag around 1, thinking it would speed up the process. Really, it only put the contractions one on top of the other, and forced me to begin my "loud screams" of mercy. At one point I remember asking God to help me...apparently I SCREAMED for God to help me (I don't remember much of that!)
An hour later, still no baby, and still no movement. Because my bag of waters "leaked" so early the day before, and because my body was stuck in such a long transition, Doct threw out the word I had been dreading: PITOCIN. Ew, not what I wanted to hear. I clutched the cross around my neck and realized as much as we had desired and prayed for a natural birth, there was no way I could go on (mainly emotionally) without something to help me relax.
They put the epidural in just after 2. I fell immediately asleep, only to wake up to nurses and my amazing husband, who arranged for a priest to bring me communion. Seeing Jesus right before me was overwhelming, and I bawled like a baby. (i was also going on about 1 hour of sleep, so forgive the incredibly dramatic emotion). Ryan asked if I wanted to do Confession too...I calmly looked at him and said "do I look like I'm in a good state to confess my sins right now??"
At about 4 the staff woke me and said "it's time." Meaning, of course, it was time for baby to finally get out of my body. I thought "ok, I can't feel the contractions (or my legs) at that point, so this should be cake!" WRONG
After about 2 1/2 hours of pushing, with what felt like no movement, I knew what the next step was: C-Section. i started to cry, and begged my doctor to not let it go that far. "i will push ALL NIGHT if I have to!!" I confidently exclaimed. My amazing doctor, out of kindness, decided to step in and do something drastic...and to be honest I have no idea what he did. Ryan called it "stretching out the area", I couldn't feel or see a thing, but two pushes later, in spite of all my doubt....he was here. :)
Weighing in at a perfect 7 pounds 10 ounces, and 21 hours later (31 if you count the water leaking) Leo William finally made his entrance into the world. Apparently, it wasn't his fault he was such a slow poke...the cord was wrapped around his neck, holding him back from coming into my arms. Ryan cried, Pam cried, I think I cried but don't really remember.
To be honest, I wouldn't have had our experience any other way. Was it painful? Of course...was it worth it? Of course...would I have preferred NOT to have back labor? Of course... :) but in the end, our beautiful son was born, incredibly healthy and full of love. And in many ways we had the birth we wanted...while we were disappointed we couldn't finish naturally, Ryan and I both know we couldn't have continued otherwise. The epidural was a necessary gift, and we were thankful for it.
Sorry for such a long post, but when the second most important day of your life just happened about a week ago, I feel like the words just keep coming :). We are so so so blessed to have Leo with us, we love him so much, and are so humbled by God's amazing gift in our lives.
Please pray for us as we continue to explore the wonderful joys of parenting. And pray that our son will remain healthy, safe and happy, and that we can raise him in a holy and virtuous way. We love all of you and are so grateful for the gift of your friendship and love in our lives!! Blessings always :)
PS: yep, Ryan most certainly gets to take his son to a Rockies game...I'm still working on getting him into the duck outfit :)
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The dreaded question
"oh, don't you just LOVE being pregnant?"
Ugh, how horrible it has been to honestly respond to this question! Our due date is right around the corner...that's right, 3 weeks and 3 days to be accurate. And yep, it's a summer of a heat wave (although, to be fair, ANYONE who has told me stories of their summer birth have concluded "it was the hottest summer EVER!"...I think it's because it feels like we're walking around with a lapdog on our bodies all day long.) I have finally succumbed to the infamous summer "swelling", seriously my foot looks like it belongs to a hobbit. And I have had cravings for either ice cream or slushies everyday for the past 3 weeks...true story...and i have indulged this craving on most days (Dairy Queen's 3 berry blast smoothie by the way is straight from heaven).
And so back to the original dilemma: how can I, a good, pro-life Catholic woman dare say something as horrible as "actually, pregnancy is kind of miserable."
Now, it must be stated that my husband and I have had a beautiful time together these past 9 months. For those who don't know the story, we found out we were pregnant on the Feast of Our Lady of Guadeloupe, after completing a Novena to our Lady for the Feast AND without knowing she happened to be the patronness of unborn children and pregnant mothers. Moreover, the first mass we went to when we found out was the only time the whole year the Archbishop does a special blessing for expectant mothers at the Cathedral. So I stood up, stunning some of our surrounding friends, and thought "what more perfect of a way to begin this journey?!" and it's true, it was so perfect, so beautiful.
And then, like most pregnancies, reality sets in. i was EXHAUSTED...truly exhausted. Throwing up became an expected nightly ritual, and of course there's the emotional ups and downs of "why does NOTHING fit me anymore?!" At 17 weeks pregnant a man at mass wished me congrats on my pregnancy, to which I almost cried (I'm not supposed to be showing so early!!)
And that's when the guilt set in...I gave up complaining for Lent in the hopes that I would begin to see pregnancy as the "wonderful, perfect" journey that many women in my life were telling me. But I still felt the guilt...Lord, why don't i LOVE being pregnant? It's even worse when many would say things to me like "you should be thankful...there are so many women who can't get pregnant!" Dagger to the heart, enter more guilt, and more frustrations in my complaining. It's true, so many beautiful women I know can't get pregnant, and here Ryan and I were married two months and POOF! baby magic! so WHY my frustrated heart?!
And so enter prayer: for those of you who don't believe in the power of prayer, believe in it: God has an amazing way of reassuring and comforting hearts in moments of confusion and crisis. What I came to see, and what a beautiful revelation it was, was the difference between being GRATEFUL for being pregnant and ENJOYING pregnancy. It's true, I am so so so grateful to be pregnant...feeling my little guy kick my stomach over and over again is actually really cool! (so much cooler than someone outside the womb doing that i would imagine!) But God showed me something else too: pregnancy, in many ways (and I'm sure I'll find this similar analogy with parenthood) is such a beautiful model of suffering. Suffering is meant to literally bear fruit in our lives; we know that God is good because He draws GOOD out of our pain, trials and suffering. Pregnancy is at every moment (whether we acknowledge it or not) suffering for a GREATER purpose...a little baby! Every aspect of my suffering, complaining, frustrations in the end is meant to be for the little life i'm carrying, and more importantly maybe for the family I love so much (my husband, by the way, is my hero).
And so here we are, three weeks to go, so freaking excited to be a mom and meet our beautiful baby boy Leo William, and excited to not be pregnant anymore. But looking back on this journey, my sufferings have been offered in a way that only God can understand. I can only pray that the many nights of vomitting, exhaustion, heartburn, constipation, etc were so that Leo would someday come to love Jesus, and know the Truth of Him in the Church. Look at that, I'm thinking like a mom already :)
In closing news, the babies are RAINING on my family and friends this summer, the most exciting of them so far for me (no offense to anyone else) has been the gift of my beautiful nephew James Dominick. Again, sacrifice of being pregnant: I can't go see him until the holidays. BUT what a beautiful reminder, after hearing the courageous story of my brother and sister-in law, why the Lord blesses us with the gift of pregnancy these past nine months. I leave you with a picture of the cutest boy EVER:
Ugh, how horrible it has been to honestly respond to this question! Our due date is right around the corner...that's right, 3 weeks and 3 days to be accurate. And yep, it's a summer of a heat wave (although, to be fair, ANYONE who has told me stories of their summer birth have concluded "it was the hottest summer EVER!"...I think it's because it feels like we're walking around with a lapdog on our bodies all day long.) I have finally succumbed to the infamous summer "swelling", seriously my foot looks like it belongs to a hobbit. And I have had cravings for either ice cream or slushies everyday for the past 3 weeks...true story...and i have indulged this craving on most days (Dairy Queen's 3 berry blast smoothie by the way is straight from heaven).
And so back to the original dilemma: how can I, a good, pro-life Catholic woman dare say something as horrible as "actually, pregnancy is kind of miserable."
Now, it must be stated that my husband and I have had a beautiful time together these past 9 months. For those who don't know the story, we found out we were pregnant on the Feast of Our Lady of Guadeloupe, after completing a Novena to our Lady for the Feast AND without knowing she happened to be the patronness of unborn children and pregnant mothers. Moreover, the first mass we went to when we found out was the only time the whole year the Archbishop does a special blessing for expectant mothers at the Cathedral. So I stood up, stunning some of our surrounding friends, and thought "what more perfect of a way to begin this journey?!" and it's true, it was so perfect, so beautiful.
And then, like most pregnancies, reality sets in. i was EXHAUSTED...truly exhausted. Throwing up became an expected nightly ritual, and of course there's the emotional ups and downs of "why does NOTHING fit me anymore?!" At 17 weeks pregnant a man at mass wished me congrats on my pregnancy, to which I almost cried (I'm not supposed to be showing so early!!)
And that's when the guilt set in...I gave up complaining for Lent in the hopes that I would begin to see pregnancy as the "wonderful, perfect" journey that many women in my life were telling me. But I still felt the guilt...Lord, why don't i LOVE being pregnant? It's even worse when many would say things to me like "you should be thankful...there are so many women who can't get pregnant!" Dagger to the heart, enter more guilt, and more frustrations in my complaining. It's true, so many beautiful women I know can't get pregnant, and here Ryan and I were married two months and POOF! baby magic! so WHY my frustrated heart?!
And so enter prayer: for those of you who don't believe in the power of prayer, believe in it: God has an amazing way of reassuring and comforting hearts in moments of confusion and crisis. What I came to see, and what a beautiful revelation it was, was the difference between being GRATEFUL for being pregnant and ENJOYING pregnancy. It's true, I am so so so grateful to be pregnant...feeling my little guy kick my stomach over and over again is actually really cool! (so much cooler than someone outside the womb doing that i would imagine!) But God showed me something else too: pregnancy, in many ways (and I'm sure I'll find this similar analogy with parenthood) is such a beautiful model of suffering. Suffering is meant to literally bear fruit in our lives; we know that God is good because He draws GOOD out of our pain, trials and suffering. Pregnancy is at every moment (whether we acknowledge it or not) suffering for a GREATER purpose...a little baby! Every aspect of my suffering, complaining, frustrations in the end is meant to be for the little life i'm carrying, and more importantly maybe for the family I love so much (my husband, by the way, is my hero).
And so here we are, three weeks to go, so freaking excited to be a mom and meet our beautiful baby boy Leo William, and excited to not be pregnant anymore. But looking back on this journey, my sufferings have been offered in a way that only God can understand. I can only pray that the many nights of vomitting, exhaustion, heartburn, constipation, etc were so that Leo would someday come to love Jesus, and know the Truth of Him in the Church. Look at that, I'm thinking like a mom already :)
In closing news, the babies are RAINING on my family and friends this summer, the most exciting of them so far for me (no offense to anyone else) has been the gift of my beautiful nephew James Dominick. Again, sacrifice of being pregnant: I can't go see him until the holidays. BUT what a beautiful reminder, after hearing the courageous story of my brother and sister-in law, why the Lord blesses us with the gift of pregnancy these past nine months. I leave you with a picture of the cutest boy EVER:
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Operation: Blogpost :)
Hello everyone!
It's been about 7 years, but I've decided to venture back into the blog world! The last time I tried to write a blog was in college, and with little success (I think I updated once?) Now that I'll be staying home as a mom for the next...lifetime...my husband convinced me to begin writing as a way to stay connected with family and friends, and give updates on our growing family! So here we are, and hence the name of the blog, "we're all sMiles" (like the pun on our last name?) more importantly, though, authentic joy is what our family strives for each day, and those "smiles" only can come from a joy built around the worship of our wonderful Creator God!
So here goes an attempt at blogging, i pray that it'll provide me with a outlet to the real world from what i am assuming will be the craziness of motherhood :) please feel free to comment or leave prayer requests!
you see, we really are all sMiles :)
Many blessings!! :)
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