Service

I pride myself on being independent.
I can't count how many times Caleb has tried being a gentleman and opening a door for me, and I am not paying attention and already opened another door for myself. And I can't help but wonder if part of the reason things have been so crazy is because I really needed to learn to rely on others, something I don't do easily or well.
I know everyone within earshot has heard me say it at least once in the last couple months, but seriously, things have been so crazy. And it was mostly self-inflicted with building a house and having a baby, but that didn't make it any easier. In less than two months we sold our house, then the sell fell through, then we sold it again, we moved out, didn't know where we were going to live until like two days before we moved, our debit card got stolen, our dog figured out how to escape the yard and kept doing so at very inconvenient times. And then I did my usual thing and went 2 weeks past my due date and was a hormonal mess for the last month waiting for him to get here. And finally, just as we were getting close to moving into our new house, all our appliances were stolen, leaving us feeling violated and sick inside.
And all along the way, I felt like the lesson was that I needed to learn to rely on Caleb and focus on our little family and just appreciate everything we have. I felt like a lot of people were hurting us or letting us down in some way, and I started feeling really bitter towards everyone. But as we start to come out the other side of what has felt like a dark couple of months, I am overwhelmingly grateful for the service we've received from so many around us.
I think my tendency towards independence makes me not very good at providing service to others. Sure, I will bring you a plate of cookies any time you have a bad day, but that's not really hard for me because I am basically always making cookies anyway, and you're doing me a favor by not letting me eat the whole batch myself like I usually would. But I admit whenever I have to provide the kind of service that inconveniences me in any way, I usually do it more than a little begrudgingly, and inwardly complain the whole time.
These last couple months we've just needed so much. We needed help moving, a place to live, someone willing to take care of our dog until we were in our house, endless babysitters and meals and just help that I am not very good at asking for. I'd rather do it myself. I'd rather starve than ask someone to feed me dinner, but that isn't really an option with two little kids to think of.
I feel like I've been pushed way out of my comfort zone. One of my favorite quotes says,

"When you come to the end of all the light you know and it's time to step into the darkness of the unknown, Faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given something solid to stand on, or you will be taught to fly."

Ironically, I've always liked the "taught to fly" part of the quote, I guess because it implies you can still do it on your own some way. But I can say through this trial, I have learned how wonderful it is when you're given something solid to stand on. The friend who thought to arrange a meal train for us after the baby was born and all the friends who brought meals made things so much easier for us. We really needed it, but I didn't want to ask. Caleb's grandma not only letting us move into her basement without question, but never making us feel like we were overstaying our welcome or inconveniencing her even when I know that we are has been a huge blessing to us.
My in laws, who are always quick to jump to our aid, have been an incredible example of service to me. Without hesitation they took in our dog before we even moved out of our house. I was so nervous about inconveniencing them because he is a nervous Nelly who throws up at least once a day, but they never complain or make us feel like we're burdening them. The other day we went over to their house and saw a new bag of his dog food in the garage. In all the craziness happening in our lives, I completely forgot that he was going to need more food and that we should, of course, be the ones to go buy it. But my sweet in laws didn't even say a word, they just went and bought more food.
I have a hard time wrapping my head around that kind of service. Around the kind of service that is truly selfless and kind and wants no reward. Come on, when I bring you a plate of cookies, I at least look forward to the thank you.
So I am grateful for all the wonderful people in our lives who have helped us through these trials, and I am grateful for a chance to see the kind of person I want to become. As we move into a new house I don't deserve and have way more than anyone would ever need, I want to remember to selflessly serve where it's needed, to love those around me in a way that can only be described as Christlike.
I am learning not to worry so much about things working out, because they do. The Lord is aware of what you need, and is always watching out for you. Consider the lillies. But when you feel a prompting to serve, do it. And if you need something, don't be afraid to ask. I am always willing to bring a plate of cookies!

Auric's Birth Story

This being baby #2, I thought I mostly had this birth thing figured out. Especially when I went past my due date again by a whopping 13 days, I was sure I was going to have another big, hard-to-birth baby. However, I was determined for things to go different this time. One of the things that made Dayen's labor unnecessarily hard was that he was posterior, meaning face up. This can (and did) cause a lot of painful back labor. When I found out this baby was posterior too, I spent a lot of time researching it, and found you can usually turn your babies before birth, so I spent the last month of my pregnancy always sitting on a birthing ball, never reclining, and constantly being aware of how he was positioned so I could keep him in the optimal position for birth. It was kind of a pain, but worth it, because the day before my due date, my doctor confirmed he was in the optimal position. I was so excited! It made me realize there was a lot about my birth that I could control, and for months I had considered switching to a birthing center, but I kept changing my mind because I loved my midwife so much. But as my due date came and went, I got more and more anxious. My midwife was leaving on vacation soon, and I couldn't shake the feeling I was going to end up in labor after she left and not end up with the birth experience I wanted. So on a crazy anxious day I called the birth center midwives in tears and decided in the eleventh hour to make the switch.
We didn't tell anyone because we knew a lot of people would think we were crazy, but I was really lucky that Caleb trusted my gut and let me do what I felt like I wanted for this birth.
On the morning of Monday, April 2nd I woke up about 3:30 with contractions. I took a bath and then watched old reruns of Bewitched while I timed them. Within about an hour and a half they went from 5 minutes apart, to 2 minutes apart, but I wasn't too concerned because with Dayen, my contractions were a minute apart for about 12 hours before he was born. The contractions were starting to get pretty uncomfortable, so around 5:30 I woke Caleb up to suffer with me. I also texted my midwife and she was nervous that my contractions were already so close, so she recommended I come in. We decided I would probably be more comfortable in labor at the birth center than I was in Caleb's Grandma's basement anyway, so we decided to head in. Caleb's mom came over to take care of Dayen and we left around 6:30.
When we got to the birth center I felt like things started slowing down, and in the back of my mind I kept thinking I wasn't really in labor and they were going to laugh at me and send me home. So I did some lunges up and down the stairs for awhile, and then we went for a walk. We walked about a mile and I only had 3 contractions the whole time, so I really felt like things were stopping and this 2 week late baby was really never going to be born. So when we got back to the birth center I told the midwives, "I think I'm just hungry, can we go get breakfast?" So we walked to Bert's, which is right behind the birth center. We got an awesome breakfast and Caleb timed my contractions which were 2 minutes apart the entire time. He kept asking, "Do you believe you're in labor now?" but I didn't!
When we got back I spent awhile squatting by the bed during contractions to try to move things along. The contractions seemed pretty strong and were still close together, but in between I kept saying, "Is this really what it's supposed to feel like? This is so much easier than it was with Dayen... this can't really be labor, right?"

Superman Caleb providing counter pressure during contractions.

After a few hours I decided I wanted to get in the tub. I am a tub-lover anyways and the huge, awesome tub at the birth center made the contractions feel so much better. I wasn't sure if I'd want to have the baby in the tub or not, but the minute I got in the water I said, "Nope, I'm never getting out of here!"

After awhile in the water I realized I was starving again (which was ridiculous considering the massive stack of pancakes I ate that morning) so my midwife brought me a bowl of strawberries that I devoured in about ten seconds. I was trying to act like a dainty laboring princess, but I finally asked if I was allowed to go raid the kitchen for more food, and they said I was. (Whoo!) So I got out of the tub and went to the kitchen and found some cookies. Caleb was teasing me that I thought cookies were the best option, but really, when are cookies not the best option?

As soon as I ate again the contractions got stronger, and I realized how cool it was that I was able to just listen to my body and do what it needed to get through labor, rather than being stuck to a bed and just letting things happen.

I eventually got back in the water and things started getting a lot more intense, but in between contractions I was really happy and laughing and so I was still having a hard time believing this was real labor. Finally I had a contraction that was a lot stronger, and in between Caleb made some joke and I didn't respond and I heard my midwife tell him, "She doesn't think you're funny anymore!" and I think that was the start of transition.

From there things got really intense, and I stopped questioning if I was in labor. I started having to make noise through contractions, and those noises quickly turned into yells. For awhile they were still ok, and I even told Caleb, "I know I probably sound like I'm dying but I actually feel ok!" It was just like the contractions were so powerful I needed some outlet to let some of that intense energy out. Eventually I was yelling so much during contractions that my voice was going, and I was worried I wouldn't be able to yell anymore. (Because that should be a concern, right?) I started feeling like maybe I should be pushing, and they told me to just follow my body, so I would try pushing during contractions. But after awhile of that, it started getting really painful. Even when the contraction was over, my hips would just shake and hurt and I couldn't regain my composure before another contraction hit. But in my head I thought this must be the beginning of the end, so this is ok! We're almost done! Finally my midwife asked if she could check me because I didn't feel like he was moving down with each push, and she said I was only at 9 cm. So we got out of the tub to break my water, and there was meconium, just like with Dayen. I can't stress enough how, for me at least, labor is such a mental game. It was at this point that I started thinking: this is Dayen's labor all over again. I am going to need forceps to deliver another giant baby, and I can't have a forcep delivery without an epidural, and I can't get an epidural here. If I have to get one eventually, I want it now. 

It was crazy how the minute my mind changed, I wasn't handling the contractions well anymore. I was fighting them and yelling, "No, no!" whenever another one started. I was crying and telling my midwife I wanted to go to the hospital. She knew how close I was and was trying to help me get back to a good place mentally, but I wouldn't listen. I felt like they were trying to stall me leaving to the hospital, and I couldn't stand the thought of another contraction without an epidural. I think they finally saw how serious I was, because they called the hospital to tell them we were coming and I basically ran out of there and out to the car as fast as I could go. I was wearing an ugly pink nightgown that said "Hello Sunshine", no bra, and no shoes. We drove to the hospital and I had a few contractions in the car that were horrible. Never go for a drive at 9 cm, it is NOT. FUN. By the time we got to the hospital I booked it out of the car and still refused to put shoes on. Caleb had to go check us in so my midwife walked me back to labor and delivery. We passed a guy and his probably 7 year old son while I yelled through a contraction, and I'm pretty sure that poor kid got an interesting talk that night. (And will never be giving his parents grandkids now.)

When we walked into our room the only people there were a nurse and the respiratory therapist. They smiled and said Hi and I instantly had a contraction, leaning against the wall and screaming. They all realized how far along I was and kicked it into high gear, I have never seen people move that fast! Before Caleb could even get back there, they had taken my blood, started an IV, and they were starting the epidural.

In my crazed state I wasn't thinking and when they numbed my back for the epidural, I thought that was the epidural. So when I had another contraction I yelled at the poor anesthesiologist, "WHY ISN'T IT WORKING?!" He was really nice and was moving so quick to get the epidural going. He even waited to do the epidural in between contractions, something they didn't do last time, and that helped a lot. By the time that awesome epidural kicked in I instantly felt embarrassed about how ridiculous I must have looked in my very ironic nightgown with no shoes, just screaming at everyone in sight. But my sense of humor instantly came back, and every time my stomach tightened up I would just laugh and say, "I bet that one would have hurt!"

An hour and a half later I was finally dilated to a 10, and they brought in the mirror and told me we could try pushing. With Dayen, I pushed for about 3 hours before finally delivering with forceps, so I was already telling the doctor, "This probably won't work, so if the first few pushes aren't doing anything can we go straight to the forceps? I want to be alert this time!" 

They told me to try pushing and I watched in the mirror as in one push his head moved several inches down. I yelled, "It's working!!!" because I honestly didn't think it would! They told me to stop and then in two pushes he was out! 

At 6 lbs 8 oz he was almost 3 entire pounds smaller than his big brother! I was so shocked at how different it had been than Dayen's birth. (I still am! We don't even know what to do with a baby this small!) All in all it was about 14 hours of active labor, exactly half of my first, and as far as we can figure I was probably at 9 cm for about 4 hours. For the record, that's the only part I don't recommend. 

I think my midwives were worried that I would be disappointed that I made it so long just to cave and get the epidural in the end. But honestly, I am really happy with how his birth turned out. I know everyone says all that matters is the baby being healthy, but that's not true. It's the most important thing, sure, but it's not the only important thing. As the woman in labor, you are the only one who has to go through it. It can be scary, and tempting to just hand over to your doctor and say, "Do this for me. Make this as easy as possible." But in the end, you're the one dealing with the labor and birth and recovery. So your experience matters! And for me, that just meant having the birth I wanted and feeling supported through the whole thing, which is exactly what I got! I couldn't have had the same labor experience in a hospital setting, (They would never have let me go to Bert's for breakfast or quietly sit back and let my labor progress on it's own without any interventions) and the minute I wanted the epidural, I was really grateful it existed and that I was able to get it. I wasn't upset that my plans changed, just really grateful that when they did, I was still able to be supported and have the birth I wanted.