A Lovely Birth Story

Hello everyone! She's here!!

Warning: Kinda, sorta, REALLY long. ;)

Apparently Tuesday was a good day to have a baby!

But barely. She arrived Tuesday night at 11:04. She was six pounds four ounces and nineteen inches long. She has light brown/blonde hair with some light blonde and red in it and really light eyebrows and lashes. So we're not too sure which way her hair will go. 

I have to tell you a little about the meaning of her name. We've liked her first name since we were pregnant with our second baby, Son. We didn't know what we were having so that was our choice if it was a girl. Then we still liked it through our third pregnancy, again a boy. And now, we still liked it when we found out that Jelly Bean was a girl!! I had looked up the meaning to the name years ago and really hadn't given it much thought again and didn't remember what it meant. Anyway, we picked her middle name based on the meaning, it means birth or born (in reference to Christ's birth) and I just loved it. In the hospital, Hubby asked me what her first name meant and I had no clue anymore, so I just looked it up again and the Greek and French origins of her name mean "bright light" or "torch." So her full name could mean a bright light or torch is born! How amazing!! God's got plans for this little one, let me tell you! ;)

So that's it. She's here. She's great. 

Huh? 

What?

You want to hear our birth story?

Well....

Okay fine. ;)

So Wednesday I posted about being up all night with contractions. They continued as I had written all day. They were every five minutes, very uncomfortable. I couldn't sleep through them, but I could still walk and talk through most of them. I was in early labor and I knew it. Around noon I started getting frustrated that there wasn't any change. I would even have ten minute breaks here and there with no contractions at all. So my friend Rachelle was so kind to come over and hang out with the kids and I. Then she pulled out her stroller, loaded up her kids and asked promptly "Ready to go for a walk?" We walked around the block a couple times and even ran a little at one point. 

I also cleaned my bathrooms, cleared out all the laundry hampers, picked out clothes for all the kids for the week, cleaned the couches and vacuumed. Just a few last minute chores to get things moving. ;)

Well things were still the exact same until around 3:30 or 4:00 when I started to notice the intensity of the contractions increasing, however not the frequency. At this point I found myself still wanting to walk and move around a lot, but had to lean on something through a contraction and couldn't really focus well to talk through them. 

Hubby had come home from work early and started to ask every 30 minutes "Time to go?" I told him I would absolutely NOT go to the hospital only to be sent home because my contractions are not consistent or frequent enough. That's what they told me with Baby and I was at 8 cm when I went BACK to the hospital a few hours later. So this time, I was not leaving until I knew I was already far along like that. So we waited.

Fed the kids. Bathed them. Read stories. Explained what was going on and that we could be taking mommy to the Doctor while they were sleeping if Jelly Bean told us it was time. Daughter was a little nervous about me being away, but really excited for her baby sister to come. Then we sat down to wait. I worked on a blanket and read a book. But then I noticed that the contractions seemed to subside a bit! It was around seven at night and I started to get frustrated again that they weren't progressing. I had already called my neighbor to be ready that night and hubby had already told his work he'd be out the next day. I started to think maybe she won't come tonight! 

Hubby suggested that I lay down and sleep since I'd been up since midnight, but I didn't want to because I just wanted to keep things going! So I paced the house. For almost an hour I walked around, stopping to lean on a chair, swaying from side to side through contractions every five minutes. Around 8:30, I was still frustrated and very tired. So I decided to just give up and lay down. I fell asleep on the couch almost immediately. About 25 minutes later, my eyes opened so fast as my whole body folded in half. My stomach tightened hard and my legs were shaking as the worst contraction yet rolled through. It lasted for two minutes and after that I knew she was coming that night. 

The contractions...ahh the contractions. 

They were excruciating, the pain was so deep, rolling through my back and my abdomen, shooting violent shakes down my legs. I couldn't hold back the large tears that came with each one, my jaw clenched tight and my face was hot with exhaustion from this pain that couldn't be escaped. 

I had been mentally preparing myself for labor for weeks. I didn't want an epidural (although I was sure I'd give in the second I walked through the hospital doors) and I knew I wanted to stay home as long as possible, even though the same plan with Baby had still led to five hours laboring in the hospital before he was born.

Every time I'd have a contraction I'd sing softly to myself "It is well" or repeat her name, reminding myself this was so minor a pain compared to the joy I'd be experiencing so soon. I'd tell myself that I was not at the limit of pain that God had designed my body to bear and I'd remember all the hours I'd spent praying for the tiny life inside me. It ended up being a really mental and sometimes even spiritual with the amount of prayers I was sending up, battle. Sometimes I'd think "If I were at the hospital, I could already have an epidural and be sleeping through most of this." But I'd remind myself that my body was designed to endure this and if Jesus could experience the suffering He had for us, I could surely endure this labor to welcome our baby into this life. 

We decided to wait about an hour before going to the hospital, about the same as what we'd done with Baby. I had about seven more contractions, but the last three were almost back to back. We called our neighbor, checked on the kids and we were off by 10:15. We got to the hospital and signed in at admitting by 10:30. We were sent up to labor and delivery and taken to a room. I was having contractions every 1-2 minutes, each one lasting two minutes. I was crying and moaning and groaning, gritting my teeth, and often times thinking that I just needed to calm down. I changed into the open backed hospital gown and got into bed and they checked me immediately. It was 10:42. I was dilated to seven, although they said it was hard to tell exactly because my water bag was bulging (remember the high fluid numbers?). The baby's head was no longer on my cervix (it was the day and week before, causing a lot of pressure), but was being pushed up because the bag of waters was bulging down. That explains why everything felt so slow progressing all day...it was moving along nicely, but I wasn't feeling that intense pressure normally felt during active labor. So they laid me on my side to try to relieve some of the bulging and then left to start a chart and get an IV going. They asked if I wanted an epidural and I said I did if they thought they could get it in time, because by this point all of my self control was gone and I just wanted to sleep. I kept saying "I'm so tired...I'm so so tired!"

As soon as all the nurses had left the room, I felt a pop and then warm fluid rushed all over the bed, down my legs. There was so much fluid it just kept pouring out. Hubby went to the hall to tell the nurse and as soon as all the fluid had stopped, I immediately felt the most overwhelming and painful pressure right at my cervix. It felt as if a bowling ball slammed against my cervix out of nowhere. I literally felt like bones were crushing and pulling apart at the same time. I looked at the clock right when my water broke. It was 10:55pm.

The nurses were telling me to relax and not to push at all because we were waiting for the Doctor. I kept saying I was sorry and that I was trying and I kept telling them I wasn't pushing. It felt like something was inside me (well, duh) pushing the baby. My main nurse looked at me and said that if she had to deliver the baby, everything would be fine and that she'd done it numerous times before. I just nodded and didn't take the time to explain that I wasn't really concerned with who was delivering my baby, I just didn't want her to end up on the floor. I felt the nurse pushing back on the baby's head and I knew she was holding her head inside as she was talking to me. A minute later she said "Okay, head's out!" 

I was surprised because I had been trying so very hard not to push, to hold her inside. But at the same time I wasn't surprised at all because I had felt her head pushing despite all my best efforts. The nurse told me to push one time, I did and Jelly Bean was born. I remember looking at Hubby's face and laughing because he was so excited, nervous, surprised and shocked at the whole situation. Bean's time of birth was 11:04, exactly 22 minutes after I climbed onto that hospital bed and 34 minutes after we arrived at the hospital. Everything happened so fast, so different than the other kids...so unexpected. 

The Doctor didn't make it for delivery. He arrived 20 minutes after birth. Our friend and photographer, who I had planned to be there for a little bit before the birth as well, arrived about three minutes after the birth. 

**By the way, thank you so much Sarah for being a part of this day, this incredibly special time with our family and for capturing such perfect moments. And if you haven't thought about or decided to have your birth photographed professionally, I would HIGHLY recommend it. I wish I would have done it with all my kids...the pictures are just priceless**

I didn't have an IV hooked up. There was no time to start any of my paperwork, the nurses didn't even have time to break down the bed. The monitors only had about two minutes of contractions and heart rates recorded. It was a blur, but it was an incredible, wonderful blur.

Seeing her sweet, tiny little face with her paper thin ears and cheeks covered in peach fuzz was overwhelming, to say the least. She's my fourth baby, so I knew this was coming, but it never tires. The wonder is never worn, the magic is never old. The mystery of birth and life is revealed new each time and each time I whisper to myself how I cannot imagine not having done this one more time. 

I marvel that Jesus actually knit her together...pieced her precious little self tiny bit by tiny bit, deep in my body. At the same time, He also nurtured a seed of love planted deep in my soul. All her soft little flutters, every time I heard her strong heart beat, every thought of her that passed through my mind were all orchestrated together to create a love that was exploding long before I held her fragile hands, touching each slender finger. 

I could go on and on describing the moment, the experience, the feelings and mostly, the baby. My child. My youngest child. 

But really, it is summed up so perfectly in such an ordinary way. I needn't do all this blabbering. Just look at her. Just know that Jesus designed her and allowed us to meet her, to hold her, to know her, to love her. I don't need to say much...she tells the story in her soft little noises that sound like a kitten, her sweet baby smell, the velvety smoothness of her skin.

I really can't say anything to do her...Jesus' handiwork justice.

So I'll just leave it at this...the two words that run through my mind all the time.

She's Lovely.

Day Two

The morning was so nice...we woke up nice and slow, had a leisurely breakfast with Grandma-mother and got dressed whenever we felt like it. Once we finally got up and going, we headed out to visit the zoo.

After first attempting to enter in the service entry (dumb navigation) we wound up walking up and over a cute wooden bridge, pointing at the turtles and fish filling the stream below us.

The zoo had received great reviews and is supposed to be one of the larger zoos in the country. It was definitely cute, but in an old fashioned, adorable and quaint, country kind-of-way. I suppose I've been spoiled, growing up near San Diego zoo, Wild Animal Park and Los Angeles zoo, so I was slightly less than impressed. Still, at only $8 per adult and much less for kids over three, it was perfect for a couple hours of walking around, saying hello to a few animals and riding the train.

Speaking of the train, that was by far our favorite part, and the sweet man hosting the train tour allowed us an extra ride around the park just because. After the train, we hopped right on the carousel, which never disappoints. ;)

Then we decided to wander around, checking out exhibits and seeing a few animals. The giraffe exhibit was really neat because the zoo had a pavilion with a raised platform so that you were right at eye level with the giraffes, who were so friendly and walked right up to the railing. You could feed them and everything, so it was a really neat way to interact with the animals first hand.

It didn't take long before our granola bars were no longer quieting the rumble in everyone's bellies, so we took a vote and headed out of the zoo to get lunch. We headed over to Whole Foods, which I had on my list of things I wanted to see/do. I don't have a Whole Foods and had really been wanting to check it out. They have such a great fresh deli and cafe, with tables set up inside and outside, games and books for kids and adults, a cozy fireplace for cold and rainy days, microwaves to heat cold foods and a seemingly endless array of fresh, whole and organic foods to make the most delectable lunch. 

We sat inside and enjoyed our lunch of organic chicken breast and homemade macaroni and cheese, spicy mozzarella penne pasta salad (which was my pick and was TRULY amazing), smoked chicken tortellini salad and broccoli salad. It was all so heavenly.

As far as the store, the selection was grand and the layout was enticing; the food looked fresh and the people were kind. But the prices seemed a little steep and all in all, I'd take my Henry's and Trader Joe's any day. But then again, I'm loyal to a fault. ;)

After we had stocked up on fresh produce, juice and granola for the week, we headed back home to enjoy the sunshine before the day got away from us. Grandma-mother blew up a million inflatables that she had been hoarding in her garage and the kids threw on their suits stripped down to undies because I forgot their suits (except for Daughter who insisted on pj's because only undies looks like a boy) and jumped in the pool. For those of you who know us personally, you know that this is never a fun way for us to spend our time. My kids hate the water, worst than a Persian cat. They truly hate it for anything other than bathing. But there was something in that Okie air that just got them all into it and I couldn't get them OUT!

They did so great (for them anyways) and swam for almost four hours. I was amazed, and thrilled beyond words. Every day for the rest of the trip they begged to go swimming, but that first day was the only day quite warm enough.

Part of the backside of my parent's home

We came inside and Poppa helped Daughter with some homework.

We played LOTS of sidewalk chalk ;)

Funny Story: When I took the kids outside, I told them I'd be right back with my camera. Well, Daughter, frantically asks

"What if a tomato comes??!"

She nervously scanned the sky as I told her that it wasn't "tomato" weather right now and explained how the sky and weather would change before a "tomato." 

When I went inside I told my dad about her concern for unexpected "tomatoes" and he went outside and showed her the "tomato" cellar (below, that door in the ground) and how she could just climb right in and be perfectly fine. It was hysterical and we called them "tomatoes" the rest of the time we were there. We may just call tornadoes, "tomatoes" forever. It's kinda catchy, huh?

Enjoyed beautiful sunsets and scenery

Fed the horses a little treat of carrots

Played the old passed down family piano that I played as a child

Said hello to Bently, my mom's new puppy

Admired my mother's GORGEOUS basil plant

We wrapped up our day with a yummy dinner at home and watching old home videos to show the kids what mom and Auntie were like when we were little. They got a total kick out of it and passed out early from their busy day.

It was a fun day filled with simple pleasures and joy. I loved watching our old home videos, memories recorded. One of the videos we watched was a family birthday party at my Auntie Susie's house, where we celebrated three birthdays. I loved watching how we all used to interact and be together, the smiles and laughter, bountiful and contagious. In that video, we saw my Uncle Whitey, Uncle Dennis and Grandpa Carlos. Three men who have passed away in the last ten years and have been sorely missed by our family. In that time, my parents also moved out of state and now our family just seems to be missing that spark, that life that once defined us. Watching these videos brought all those memories and emotions flooding back.

I found myself desperately missing my Grandpa, a quiet old man, stuck in his ways and stubborn bad habits. A man that was more of a closed up mystery to me. His face always seemed to have a story to tell but rarely revealed any. He had experienced and done things that he chose to keep to himself, things that a Grandfather doesn't share with his granddaughter. But he loved us. He loved me. I think that grandchildren helped soften him just a bit, cracking the hard and cold shell he had worn for so long.

My Grandpa Carlos with my cousin

And my Uncle Dennis, a man with a smile that truly lit up a room. A gruff exterior, his skin was tan and weathered, scarred and wrinkled prematurely. His hair was always long and in a ponytail at the base of his neck, the same color as honey. His eyes danced when he talked and the wrinkles showed the memories that he held inside. I loved him, in his tank tops and eighties shorts. I loved his rough hands and how easily he'd get down and roll around on the floor playing with us kids. He was quick to help or give what he had to anyone. He was funny and lively, never skipping an opportunity to tease. We miss him terribly.

Uncle Dennis is in the tank top and Uncle Whitey is the white one with no shirt ;)

Ahh...Uncle Whitey. He died shortly after Daughter was born. He was an amazing man. He and my Aunt Susie sometimes seemed like the central hub of the family. They eagerly hosted every family holiday and birthday and were the epitome of a warm home. Always available with a cheerful smile and warm hug, Whitey was kind and loving. He was sweet and had a soft voice but a crazy sense of humor. He was the guy that would walk our wearing a depends at an all ladies baby shower or nothing but jingle bell boxers and a Santa hat on Christmas. He was always up for a laugh, a game, anything to live life to its fullest. I miss him dearly.

It was a lovely day, fabulous to be spending it with loved ones and remembering passed family also. Great to see my kids soaking in the new sights and experiences. 

Oklahoma-Day One

Warning: Long and picture heavy ;)

So strange. I’ve done it a million times and loved it each and every time. 

Never been afraid. 

Never anxious. 

This time was different. 

Naturally it was pretty chaotic, not as bad as I had expected, but a little hairy nonetheless. However, that wasn’t the part that was so alarming. I planned for that. 

Everyone had their own backpack, each packed with favorite toys, a freezer bag filled with favorite snacks, water bottles and special blankets. Everyone was wearing easy slip on shoes to make the security check a little more smooth and I had carefully planed how I’d be herding my three small children, four carry-ons, two strollers and a car seat through the airports on my own. 

People seemed extra friendly, the kids were extra cooperative and I was saying a few extra prayers. Smooth sailing.

We breezed through our check in, security check, and boarding. 

Heading straight to the back and getting settled, we lucked out with ONE extra seat on the first flight so that Baby didn’t have to sit on my lap. 

As we all buckled in and put our bags under our seats, I answered all the questions my little children’s curious minds could muster. 

What is this airplane called?

Why are the wings shaped like that?

What’s that sound?

Where’s the engine?

What does the pilot do?

What are those lights for?

Where’s the potty?

How does it stay in the air?

Why is the airplane in this little book swimming? 

(uhh...not sure dear, we’ll think about that later)

The questions went on and on and I found myself really appreciating growing up with a father who worked in aerospace and had taught my sister and I quite a lot.

(This video is of Daughter and Son during our second take-off. The first time they were completely silent and staring out the windows with their mouths open. This time they were quite giddy)

During the taxi down the runway, the excitement in my children’s eyes was amazing. 

They were filled with anticipation. 

As we started down the runway going faster and faster and then finally 

pointing the nose of our 737 upward and lifting up off the ground, 

their awe and wonder was incredible. 

I loved every second of it. 

And then as I took my eyes off their cute little faces, 

and looked out my own window, that feeling hit.

 The one I hadn’t expected. 

I became incredibly nervous. 

It was a smooth takeoff and I still found myself gripping the armrests.

 Then we hit just a few bumps as we climbed to our cruising altitude,

 one that got to my stomach just a bit. 

You know that feeling when you hit a little drop on a roller coaster?

 It was like that.

 And in that instant, my stomach sank, my heart started pounding, 

I felt hot tears stinging my eyelids and I couldn’t help but feel a little panic.

 I looked at all my kids quickly, so trusting and confident. 

They weren’t nervous or afraid. 

And before this moment, I had never felt that way about flying either.

 But right then, all I could think was how I was responsible for these three little lives and how helpless I really was way up here. 

I couldn’t truly protect them. 

And with those concerns, how could I keep my worries at bay?

 I softly sang to myself “It is well,” knowing that we were all in my Maker’s hands 

and there was no safer place to be. 

But the feeling was so unexpected, unanticipated and overwhelming.

 How much having children affects every aspect of your life is amazing.

 I wondered why I hadn’t been warned about this and then thought I must be the only mother in the world to feel this panic, not over flying, for that I loved. 

But rather the panic of flying with children and the fear of the haunting 

“what if’s” that kept ringing in my ears. 

Then I thought that perhaps I’m not the only parent who has experienced this, but how exactly can you communicate these irrational thoughts and worries to someone who is not expecting them at all? Or someone who has not experienced them yet? 

We continued on our journey, flying through the sky, reaching for the heavens and floating above the clouds. Daughter, Son and Baby loved it, every moment of it. Daughter and Son were so well behaved and raked in the compliments from many of the other passengers aboard our flight. 

Baby gave the woman in front of him a complimentary in-flight massage for about forty-five minutes, which she so kindly pretended to enjoy. 

I only had to threaten the kids with the air Marshall a handful of times and I only bribed them with chocolate twice. Well, maybe three times, but who’s counting? ;)  

The pilots showed the kids all the controls, let them help program the route coordinates for the next flight (I hope they got where they thought they were headed) 

and kindly took extra time to answer all their questions. 

We were so blessed with such gracious people around us, so many lending helping hands and encouraging words. I couldn’t believe how good God was, going before and paving the way for our trip. We arrived safe and sound, though a little tired and really sick of sitting still, in Oklahoma, greeted by Poppa and Grandma-mother’s welcoming arms and bright smiles. 

We drove to their house, ran in a million circles excitedly, barely ate a bite of dinner and quickly crashed into our pillows that night. Our first day was a fabulous start to rest of the trip. And once again, I learned that I had and felt a new love, a different love for my children, one I hadn’t felt before. One that prompted such a fear, I could never forget it.