5 months old

To celebrate Ivory's 5 months, we finally moved her crib out of our bedroom and into her nursery. She slept beautifully for us: 12 hours with 3 brief feedings.

Happy Holidays!

Four & a half months old!

Happy November!

Almost 15 weeks old...

Lessons learned

I didn't spend much time with babies before this July, so every aspect of motherhood has been new to me. Here are a few of my discoveries:

• Baby wearing is a miracle, but I was nowhere near smart enough to figure out how to use a Boba wrap on my newborn. I managed to get her in it somewhat comfortably a couple of times, but that was while my mama held her and I watched a YouTube tutorial over and over and over and... yeah, you get the point. My Ergo became my best friend in an instant, and thanks to some kind vlogger's wisdom, I didn't even have to buy the newborn insert -- I just rolled up a swaddle blanket and fashioned her a comfy little seat on my own.
• Pacifiers are also miraculous. This one's tough, because I swore up and down that I'd never give my baby one before she arrived, and I gasped in horror when someone said the hospital gave their baby one without their permission. But the thing is, I hadn't yet known sleep deprivation. I hadn't swaddled and changed and nursed and swaddled and changed and nursed my baby 20 times in a row, bleary-eyed and silently praying for just an hour of rest before the sun rose again, when I made that decision. So one night, in my desperation, I tried to give Ivory a pacifier... and she took it for a moment, then spit it back out. I was a mixture of emotions: jealous for a second because the only thing that had comforted her before was my breast, relieved that she was finally finding comfort from something else, and then devastated that it didn't last. I tossed it aside and forgot the whole thing until she was nearly four weeks old. In my tiredness and distress, I squeezed some milk onto a pacifier's nipple, offered it to my screaming daughter, and... it stayed. I regained a lot of my sanity that night. To you mamas who don't cave under pressure about this, you seriously deserve medals. I couldn't do what you do.
• Cloth diapering is easy and awesome. I had my doubts, particularly right after Ivory was born and all I kept thinking was, "What have I committed myself to??" She was three days old and we were down to one newborn diaper left over from the hospital. We hadn't bought any disposables, and I started to panic. On top of everything else, I was supposed to do what? Off we went to Meijer, where I marched up to the diaper aisle, forgetting all of my concerns about the environment and chemicals and diaper rash and blowouts, determined to buy another pack of Pampers. It's no exaggeration to say that my vision was impaired from lack of sleep; while she was doing fine resting away, I had been laying in bed listening for her breathing all night long. When I saw the price on the diapers, though, I jumped; I saw hundreds of lattes and fancy dinners and house projects and other "extras" fading into oblivion, and I felt a surge of determination. We left the store empty-handed, and more than twelve weeks later, Ivory has still not worn another disposable diaper -- nor has she had any diaper rash or blowouts. I do a load of diaper laundry every 3-4 days. No complaints whatsoever.

I'll leave you with a picture of me and Ivory from a walk this afternoon:

Good morning, Ivory!

We finally came to terms with the fact that Ivory had outgrown her bassinet (probably awhile ago), so I disassembled it and we moved her to her crib last night. We just stopped swaddling her a few days ago, which we were afraid would cause difficulty sleeping, but it didn't seem to affect her a bit. I guess babies are pretty adaptable. Anyway, she went to bed before 9:00 and slept through the night as usual, but she fell back asleep immediately after her 6:30 nursing session and ended up having a 13+ hour night. Cool. Did I mention that I finally caught up on all of our laundry?!

We had a small photo shoot to celebrate.

 

Some new mother thoughts

A year ago, I would never have believed someone telling me that I'd be sitting in a recliner in my 10-week-old's nursery today, writing a blog post as she lays in her crib beside me, laughing and cooing and throwing her limbs in every direction. A year ago, I was a full time student and employee and a new wife in a new apartment. I had finally come around the the idea that one day -- in a decade or so -- I might like to become a mother, but I had this very real fear that I might never be ready. I remember thinking many times that it was such a huge responsibility to care for another soul, and I marveled that anyone had ever willingly chosen to do so. I also had the thought that I'd never be selfless enough to have children. I feared not having time to spend [note there was a pause in writing here in which I snuggled, nursed, changed, and attempted to do tummy time with a way-too-tired Ivory, which resulted in a screaming fit and getting wrapped up for a nap] doing the things I love, like going on spontaneous road trips with my husband, hanging out for endless hours at coffee shops, reading and writing. I had no idea what I really loved to do because I'd never done it.

A year ago, I also had no idea how it would feel the first time my daughter locked eyes with me and the whole world became background blur around us. I didn't know that in caring for another soul, I would realize again my desperate need for complete surrender to the will of God. I didn't know that the best kind of all nighter to pull would be a seemingly endless cycle of nursing and diaper changes and looking at the clock, thinking, "If I went to sleep now, I'd still get __ minutes of sleep." I didn't know how quickly those newborn days would come and go, yet in their duration, they would feel like an eternity. Standing beside that swaddled baby in all of her innocence, every stubborn opinion I had fought vigorously for was challenged; I looked at Felipe with tears in my eyes a few weeks ago and asked him how I could possibly react nonviolently to someone harming her, and he replied, "Prayer." There is something about having a child that has prompted my heart to pray like I've never done before. I am thankful that even though it wasn't in our plans to be here today, we are, and that's a beauty of this life. In the words of Forrest Gump's mama, "you never know what you're gonna get."

Going off topic a bit, I often see pictures of babies that say how many weeks or months old they and list the milestones they've reached since the last one. I wonder if it wouldn't be helpful to see pictures of parents like that. Since Ivory has started smiling back at us, perhaps a picture of me could say, "Smiles more often." Since she's started cooing, my picture could say, "Watches her words more carefully." Unfortunately, since she's been sleeping through the night, my picture might simply say, "Lazier." I hope that I never quit growing and learning with my baby... And it would appear that little miss is stirring, so I better get going and grab myself a bite to eat so I'm energized for play time.

2 month photoshoot at the park

The Story of Ivory | Part One: Labor and delivery

Happy September! It has been a long time since I last wrote anything on here, so I feel it's high time to start recording the events that have taken place since and during Ivory's birth. I am visiting my parents this morning, so I finally have access to the internet. We haven't gotten it in our new house yet, and may not - we're still debating.

First off, I'll share a little about her birth. Please be aware that I will be going into detail that may just bore you, but this is for us to have a record of these events when the memories begin to fade more than they already have.

I went into labor around 9:00 in the evening on Tuesday, July 15th, after I convinced Felipe to go for a three mile power walk with me -- or, more accurately, three one mile power walks, since I had to get back to the house for bathroom breaks between miles. It must have been a sight, this pregnant woman a few days from her due date, stomping up and down the road with fierce determination. It was during the last mile when I started getting contractions, though they were bearable at that point. By midnight, they were three minutes apart and lasting for about a minute, and I was ready to go to the hospital. My mom met us in the emergency parking lot (the only entrance open at that hour), and I remember falling to my knees when I was hit with a particularly strong contraction. The hospital policy is to send an someone down with a wheelchair when labor and delivery patients come in, so after being wheeled up, I was placed in a room to have my contractions monitored. For two hours, I used breathing exercises to handle the pain, and the contractions kept coming fast and strong, but since I was still only dilated to two centimeters, the nurse sent me home with a muscle relaxant and instructions to return when I was no longer able to talk.

I labored through the night, and my contractions became less regular but more intense.  Every time I started to drift off, I was awakened by another one. Felipe had to leave for work around 6:30, so my mama came to spend the day with me and work from our apartment after he was gone. She downloaded a contraction timer app onto her phone and kept track of them throughout the day. Felipe returned home in the afternoon and he was in dire need of a nap, so while he worked on regaining energy for what was to come, I crawled around in the living room, rocking back and forth on my knees and counting 1-2-3-4, 4-3-2-1. By that point, I realized I was having back labor, and each time a contraction hit, I cringed in fear as it wrapped around my torso.

Although I don't remember the exact sequence of events, I do remember that I ran a bath around 1 or 2 in the morning (it was the morning of Thursday, July 17th now), and while sitting in the tub, I called my doctor's office. I'm not sure what my thought process was, but I was desperate by that point and the pain was intensifying each minute. I was afraid of going back to the hospital and being sent home once again. The person who answered kept asking ridiculous questions like, "Do you think you might be in labor?" until I finally lost my ability to answer and handed the phone over to Felipe while I groaned in pain. She told him the on call doctor would be in touch. A few minutes later, Dr. McMillan called me back, and I had clearly interrupted his sleep. I was choking back tears and explaining my predicament, to which he replied, "Can't you just wait until Friday morning to get checked? I mean, if you're that uncomfortable, I guess you could go to the hospital again."

I was that uncomfortable.

So off we went, but this time, there was no waiting for my mama to show up. I was whisked up to the observation room again, and Elizabeth, 'the sweet nurse who checked my dilation this time announced that I was 5 centimeters and would not be going home again. I started laughing and crying and clapping and squealing, exactly as I had the day we'd gone to our ultrasound and found out our baby was a girl. The funny part? I'd gone from desperately wanting some kind of pain medication to feeling no pain at all. The contractions, though still very intense, seemed so insignificant. I was going to give birth to my baby girl before I saw the light of day again! My mom walked in and snapped a photo of my joy:

Once admitted, I was given a birthing ball to bounce on. And I did, happily moving through contractions. The next time I was checked, I was 7 centimeters dilated, and the nurses were confident I'd be having this child in no time.

Soon, I was 8 centimeters, and the pain was getting real again. My contractions were lasting about 90 seconds and coming every two minutes, so I barely had time to breathe, and I had to ask my visitors to leave the room. Nathan, his girlfriend Jen, Jonathan, Patrick and Dylan were all sitting in the waiting room, hoping for the news of Ivory's arrival... but the hours passed, and nothing changed. By 12:00 noon, I realized I hadn't slept since Monday night, and my body was worn out. Forty hours of back labor to the point where I no longer remembered how to count to 4, and I was ready to ask for help. I told Dana, the nurse who had replaced Elizabeth that morning, that I wanted an epidural.

Once I made the choice to get help with my pain, it couldn't come fast enough. I was told that Dan, the anesthesiologist, was having lunch in the cafeteria and it would be a few minutes before he could arrive. I begged Felipe and my mama to go down and find him, drag him up to my room, and stick that needle deep into my spine. They refused. When Dan finally did show up, he quickly did his job, then waited to see if it worked. It did, and I almost proposed to him, but instead, I just told him that he was my absolute favorite person in that hospital (sorry, Felipe, Mom, Nathan, Jen, Jonathan, Patrick and Dylan). And I fell asleep in absolutely bliss, clutching the stuffed puppy Uncle Nate bought for his new niece.

When I awoke, I started to feel back pain again, though it was dull. I told myself I must be imagining things and didn't say anything, but each time I felt it, I'd look up and see that I was in the middle of a contraction, and I became almost paralyzed with fear. When asked to explain what the contractions felt like later, all I could say was that it must be like someone taking a chainsaw to my lower back, over... and over... and over again. At some point, Dr. Wilson came in and broke my water, hoping that would speed up the dilation process. Hours were continuing to pass, and my contractions continued to come just as frequently, but no progress was being made.

The rest is a blur. My epidural wore off and I was given another dose, twice, before they asked me to start Pitocin. I was an emotional, sleep deprived mess, and I'd started to run a fever. Dana had been replaced by a new nurse, Melissa, who had seen me two days before when I'd first come in and been sent home, and Dr. Wilson was replaced by Dr. McMillan once again. In my daze of terror that the pain and labor would never end, I responded to a warning of a possible c-section with, "Please, can I have one?"

They turned down my epidural and started the Pitocin, and I panicked. Dr. McMillan was being called to do emergency surgery, and I pleaded for a chance to try to push, even though I wasn't seemingly ready. He agreed under the condition that I get Ivory into position within 3 pushes while he sat at his desk and ate pizza. Dana, though she should have left a long time before, had stayed around to witness the birth that she'd waited for all day. I started pushing. Felipe tells me that the doctor came in with his slice of pizza to observe, but I didn't notice.

25 minutes later, our baby girl arrived at 8:51pm on July 17, 2014. Outside the door, Patrick and Jen stood in the hallway listening for her cry, and they took this picture when they heard it for the first time:

There she was, all 7 pounds, 6 ounces, 20.5 inches of beautiful, breathing, baby girl. She latched on to nurse on the delivery bed, and in that moment, I realized that my life had changed forever: I was a mother, and I could never go back.

 

 Felipe was no longer just my best friend and husband; he'd become the father of my child.

My own mama transformed into Mamaw right before my eyes:

This has gotten quite lengthy, so I'll write more later.

Baby bliss

Little Miss Ivory is 3 weeks old!