Ethan Thomas' Birth Story

We are a family of five! Can you believe it?! I still can't. Ethan is a treasure and we all adore him. Just like his brothers, he has fit into our family so easily we know he was always meant to be here.

At 36 weeks I went in for my checkup and discovered I was dilated to 3cm and 50% effaced. My doctor informed me Ethan was coming early and to stay off my feet to try and stall labor as long as possible. I was very nervous. We don't have any family in the area and help wasn't arriving until I was 39 weeks, so while trying very hard not to panic, we made several phone calls and back up plans to get help sooner than later. My contractions remained steady and strong, but miraculously Ethan held on til I was 37 weeks and family arrived to help. Thank goodness! Now I could get on my feet and bring on labor! Then somehow I made it to 38 weeks... and then 39. Turns out Ethan didn't want to come early. I was frustrated at the time, thinking I'd cried wolf and made everyone rearrange their schedules for nothing, but I have since been grateful he took his time so I didn't have to worry about him spending any time in the NICU. Heavenly Father has a plan, and we may not always understand it, but it is always better than our own. Funny how I have to learn and relearn that lesson constantly.

So on August 5th, at 39 weeks to the day Brenton and I got our things ready and headed to the hospital. Even though I hardly slept the night prior, I was very calm that morning. I felt reassured everything would be fine. I'd been through this all before, and knew I'd be in good hands. I kissed my boys goodbye and we headed for the hospital.

We breezed through check-in and I met my nurse, who would stay with me through the entire delivery. I had never had that before. Usually with a csection you have different nurses poking, prodding, transporting and touching you for every different step. It was wonderful to have only one nurse to explain my birth plan to. Amazingly, this lovely nurse had already done her homework and read up on all my doctor's notes about my wishes, knowing everything we were planning in advance. She also knew I would most likely have a panic attack in the OR, and was prepared to help me through that, too. I was so grateful to have her there with me.

 At about 10;15, it was time to go to the OR and have my spinal block put in without Brenton. The last time I had this done I was wheeled in on a gurney, sparking my panic attack with Jackson's delivery as it triggered my terrifying gurney ride to the OR for Ryan's emergency csection. This time they let me walk there myself. I felt so empowered by that. I know it's a simple thing, but it made all the difference. I was walking down that hallway by myself. I was in charge of my body and what was about to happen to it. I can't fully express how the simple task of walking into that room unassisted lifted my spirits.

While it was a little chilling to be back in an OR with all the bright lights and tools lined up that would soon be in my body, I was greeted by cheerful nurses and assistants all ready to help. They chatted with me as I climbed onto the operating table and readied myself for the spinal block. My nurse helped me hold still as the needle went in, and I assumed I was done. Nope. For whatever reason the anesthesiologist had a hard time getting the needle in just the right place for the nerve block to work. I don't know if you've ever had a large needle shoved into your spine but, for the record, it's extremely painful. After about twelve tries (not kidding), she decided to call in some back up. I was sure during all of this my panic attack would arrive. I was just kind of expecting it. However, my nurse knew it would come, too, and she kept talking to me saying, "you're so brave, Katie. You can do this. You're such a brave mom." So I kept repeating out loud, "I'm a brave mom. I can do this. I'm a brave mom." Later on my doctor came in and held my hand, talking to me about Ryan and Jackson to also keep me calm. I'm so grateful for her and my nurse because while I shed several tears as my back kept getting stuck, I never lost control. I'm still amazed by that. The second anesthesiologist got my spinal block in first try. Moving on.

Because I had so much medicine in my back from all the attempts to get the spinal block right, I became very nauseous, and threw up a little before they slipped some Zofran through my IV. Brenton came in and I felt much better. It is always such a comfort to have him beside me, feeling his hand brush my hair and tell me everything's alright. After a minute or two I realized they'd already made the incision and were working their way down the layers to get Ethan out. Brenton talked to me and things settled down until before I knew it, I could barely breathe as they pushed and pulled Ethan out. I felt like it went much faster than Jackson's, but maybe that's because the spinal block took so long.

At 11:02 Ethan came out with a full head of jet black hair. I couldn't believe it! About three feet to my left they wiped him down and weighed him. Brenton walked over to cut the cord which is always a little funny to me since the cord is already cut, and he's really just trimming it. Anyway, our beautiful baby boy weighed 8lbs 6oz, 20" long, the smallest of our three little guys. I loved him instantly.

Moments later my beautiful son was being laid on my chest. No blankets, no diaper, just me and him, skin to skin. I'd never had that before. Even with Jackson's delivery he was all swaddled in blankets and although I got to hold him in the OR, the pediatric nurse never let go of him either. Not this time. Every person in that operating room honored that fact that I was Ethan's mother, and no one held him but me. They backed away and gave me, Brenton, and Ethan our own little space to be in, just the three of us while I was stitched up. No one tried to intervene or talk to us, and it was as perfect as if I had delivered him like any other mom. I have had many sweet, precious moments in my life, but this one may have taken the cake. It was indescribable. 

As I was getting close to being finished up, the pediatric nurse said, "well, it's time for Ethan and Daddy to go to the nursery." Before I could open my mouth in protest my wonderful doctor firmly said, "No, the baby will be staying with mom." The nurse immediately backed off and that was that. I didn't have to say a word. If I could I would have sat right up on the operating table and hugged my doctor. She was my hero. Minutes later we went to recovery. All three of us. 

I was very tired and hungry, but we got through Recovery just fine. I even managed a quick phone call to my mom to tell her the good news. We all rested together and they never took Ethan off my chest, even when they were checking vitals on us both. That skin to skin bonding did wonders for both of us. I've always known the benefits of skin to skin for the baby, but really got to understand the benefits for the mother this time around. I felt so relaxed and happy just holding him and not having to fight for the privilege to do so. 

Because I threw up on my way to postpartum, they restricted my diet to only clear fluids. I'd been fasting since midnight and was starving. I knew I was fine and the nausea had nothing to do with my stomach, so we may or may not have begged a nurse who didn't know my dietary restrictions into bringing me a turkey sandwich. Bless you, uninformed nurse!! They put me on solid food after that, thank goodness!

Later in the afternoon Ethan got to meet his two very eager brothers. They were thrilled! Jackson wanted me to snuggle him a lot, I think to reassure him everything was okay, but the visit went well. Both boys just adore their new brother. It was very sweet to see them all together, and I realized I loved all three of them more than I ever had before. My heart expanded to a whole new level that afternoon.

The rest of my hospital stay was wonderfully uneventful, and we were both discharged 48 hours later. It was lovely to be home again and be able to rest. It's always surprising to me how little rest I'm able to get in the hospital. There is someone coming in literally every 20 minutes needing to check something, give advice, bring meds, check the baby, etc. I never got an hour of uninterrupted sleep, even during the night.

We are so happy to have Ethan here, and that my delivery went so smoothly. Csections are different at every hospital, and I'm so grateful for my doctor and the staff who made the surgery seem as natural as it could be. Our sweet little boy is so loved already. We can't imagine life without him. I still can't believe I have three children. We are so very blessed!

What I Would Say

The birth of our third little boy is rapidly approaching, and that always causes me to reflect on the previous deliveries of my children. Of course, that reflection quickly moves to Ryan's birth, because it affected all my subsequent pregnancies and deliveries. So many thoughts go through my mind. I'm grateful we're both alive and well, angry for being denied the ability of ever having the birth experience I've dreamed of, devastated that with each subsequent pregnancy my chances for additional babies hangs in the balance, happy that I have two beautiful healthy children with another one weeks away from arriving, and terrified about facing another OR again with all the fear that comes with it.

As I contemplate all of this, combined with an overload of hormones making my feelings only semi-rational, I sit and gaze at my wonderful little son who will turn five a couple weeks after his second baby brother's arrival. I watch him as he peacefully sleeps, and am amazed at how much he's grown. I think back to those first scary days after his birth having no idea whether he would live or die, or whether he'd be able to talk, eat on his own, or write his name. If I think my thoughts are all over the place now, it is nothing compared to how they were during that time. Now, five years later, I've thought about what I would say to that terrified, broken down girl who had her life turned upside down so suddenly. What would I tell her?

Probably something like this.

"Hey, it's me five years down the road. I know, I thought we'd be a little skinnier too, but don't worry, you'll get over that for the most part. First off, everything you're feeling is okay, no matter what it is. That sweet little boy over there? The one they won't let you hold or feed because he's so covered with tubes? He turns five years old in a few weeks, and is extraordinary. He loves sharks and trains, with an additional obsession that changes every six months or so. Currently it's a tie between crocodiles and dinosaurs, specifically the spinosaurus, because it's basically a crocodile dinosaur. I know, it's adorable."

"He's a lefty, and a great big brother. Yep! We have more babies! I'm not going to spoil everything that happens in the next five years for you, but yes, you're going to be able to have more, and they are just as extraordinary. He is very smart. Just today I sat next to him while he read me the book, Pirate Pat. We homeschool, and he's awesome at it, writing his name perfectly on every workbook page."

"It's not always going to be easy, and he has his own weaknesses, but so do you. You're going to butt heads, get frustrated, and wonder if you're doing everything wrong. Trust your instincts, trust your Heavenly Father, and trust your husband. He is an amazing father, even better than you dreamed. You will work through the hard days together, and there will be hard days. Remember that Ryan is exactly whom Heavenly Father chose to send to you, along with all his gifts and struggles. You will discover more each day how beautifully he fits into the family, and you will love him all the more for it."

"Also, you may not believe me right now, but he's going to be just fine. Everything those scans show, and all the risk factors all the doctors keep throwing at you that feel like knives in your heart, just let them all go. Have faith, not fear. Ryan will be fine. I promise. Miracles happen. You of all people should know that by now."

"Over the next five years, be kind to yourself. You'll have a lot on your plate both physically and mentally. Learn to let things go, stop worrying about meeting everyone else's approval, and pour all your worries and concerns into prayer. I'm just a little further down the road, and we're not perfect, but trust me, you get through this, one step at a time, and you'll do it a lot faster if you stop worrying how everyone else feels about what you're doing. You've got this."

Of course I realize I wouldn't have learned the same lessons the same way if I could have glimpsed into the future, but it sure would be nice to give myself a hug and tell five years ago Katie everything will be okay. I know right now I'd love for five years further down the road Katie to give me a hug and tell me everything's going to be okay with this delivery, too, but that's a different story, and a different speech I'll post five years from now. Here's to then, and here's to now, taking things one day and one step at a time.

Why I Stopped Blogging (and why I'm thrilled about it!)

Hi! Remember me? You know, the one who wrote all the way back in April about how I was spending too much time on my phone and not enough time with my sweet husband? Remember my little experiment of turning off my phone in the evenings for an entire month?

Guess what?

It was amazing! Brenton and I have become much closer, and while I don't keep my phone off every night these days, it has brought back the glow of our dating years, which is something we haven't had in awhile. Life is pretty fantastic lately.

So why haven't I written in over eight months? Great question. Those who read my blog probably already know me well enough to know most of our life updates: how we moved to South Carolina, Brenton's job is finally 9-5, M-F, and we are expecting our third little one at the end of July. Life is just about as great as it could be. I actually have tons to blog about, lots of ideas, and plenty of time to do it. So, why the sudden stop?

As it turns out, my prime time to blog was during Brenton's many, MANY late nights. I'd put the boys down, start up a Netflix show and settle in for a nice long blog entry. It was a stress reliever to write about the things that concerned me, my dreams for something better, and took my mind off the fact that my husband would't be home for several hours. But guess what? Brenton doesn't have late nights anymore. His phone calls of "Sorry Hunny, I have to work late tonight" means 7:30 instead of his usual 5:30 homecoming. Mere child's play compared to his former work schedule. So now instead of spending most nights alone, we put the boys down together, then have the whole evening to chat, play games, watch movies, work on the budget, whatever. The point is we're together, and it's awesome. Really, really awesome.

Having Brenton on a set schedule has also given me the freedom to do something for me, completely separate from him and the kids. Before, his schedule was never concrete, so even something as simple as a monthly Book Club meeting rarely worked out for me to be able to attend. Now I go out every Wednesday evening to participate in a singing group that I love. It is wonderful to get out of the house, wear something not covered in food and snot, and enjoy adult interaction with the rest of the world. Win!

In conclusion, it isn't that I don't enjoy blogging, because I do. And it isn't that I'll never write another post, because I will. It's just that the outlet blogging has been for me in the past is no longer necessary. Blogging filled a void in my life that no longer needs to be filled, and for that I've never been happier to see eight months go by without a single post. Here's to 2014 really being as wonderful as I hoped it would be a year ago!

Reconnecting by Disconnecting

I haven’t written in awhile, and there’s a lot to catch up on. We've been out of our home for three months, and have lived in three places. It’s definitely been an adventure full of ups, downs, and every emotion in between. I’m exhausted most days, and all of us are certainly tired of living in one room, in each other’s space at all times. However, the end is in sight, and Brenton should have his first assignment within a week or so. We are very excited for his training to come to a close at the end of the month. He has worked hard, and feels confident this temporary sacrifice will bring the blessings we’re praying for as a family. I’ll try to post photos and stories about this dreadfully cold, long winter we've experienced as the next few weeks progress, but today I’m focusing on something else.

One month from yesterday will be a special day for Brenton and me.  We will be celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary.  I know that’s pretty small as far as anniversary milestones go, but it’s our first big one since the actual wedding day itself.  In those five years we've lived in six states, and seven homes. We've had two children, two cars, and collectively held five jobs and 16 church callings. We've watched our bank account rise and fall, our waistlines expand and shrink, and our children thrive and struggle. Five years seems like a day and an eternity all at once. We've done so much in such a short span of time.

In some ways we’re much closer. I absolutely love Brenton far more today than I did five years ago. In other ways we’re disconnected. When we were dating there was plenty of time to sit and talk to each other. We went on dates and never ran out of things to say. That’s not really the case now. At best we have a few hours together in the evenings if we’re lucky, and that time isn't really spent with Brenton so much as next to him.

With his job in Kentucky, Brenton was often gone in the evenings, so I would put the boys down to bed, settle down in front of Netflix, and spend time with what has now become my other half: my phone. It just became a habit. I’d scroll through Pinterest and Facebook, using the time to unwind from the long day. Now that Brenton’s schedule is more concrete, he is home most evenings. We put the boys down together, which I’m grateful for. But then when they’re asleep, I find both of us sitting together with our phones. We might engage in a brief conversation of, “did you see this photo?” or “watch this funny video, hunny!” for a minute or two, but then it’s back to glossy eyed, thumb scrolling. I used to miss him so much during the evenings he’d work late, and now that he’s home I’m doing the same thing I did when he wasn't. It needs to stop.

So, for the month of April, I’m giving Brenton 30 days of phone-free time. Last night was Day 1, and once the boys were down I plugged in my phone, put it away, and just sat and talked with him. We told jokes, and actually communicated about our day. It felt like a mini date night right there in our tiny, one-room hotel suite we’re stuck in for the next month. It wasn't instantly magical, and I almost grabbed my phone a few times when I wondered about the weather, or what actor was in that movie, or where so-and-so is living these days. But overall the change has been a positive one, even after one day.

I’m not saying I won’t ever pick up my phone for things in the evenings, but I am taking the time to say to my husband, “you are more important to me than a 4-inch screen. Our marriage means more to me than Sally’s latest post of what she ate for dinner. I don’t need to see how many people liked my photo, or who left a comment on the article I shared. I need you to know I care about you, just you, and that you are the only person I need to “like” me. I may be able to access the world through a device that fits in my hand, but you were my world and held that hand long before it was holding a smart phone, so I am reconnecting with you by disconnecting from it.”

I mean, after all, the best way to celebrate five years of time together is by spending more time together, right?  

2013: A Year of Healing

2013 is rapidly drawing to a close, and in just a few short days our family will be moving to our next big adventure, starting with a 90-day excursion in Chicago for Brenton's new job training. Having the year end at the cusp of a new journey for us has caused me to reflect much on this past year and our time spent in beautiful Bowling Green, Kentucky. This has been a place of great emotional healing for me. It has been a safe zone where I've had time to pause and reflect on how my past was affecting my present. So before we head into 2014 and our family heads to the Windy City, allow me to address a few things I've learned.

I finally became secure and happy enough in my life to recognize I have some very deep scars from past trauma. Some of it you are aware of, such as the scary birth of my first son, Ryan. That trauma was visibly brought to the surface during the birth of my second son, Jackson, but since his delivery went perfectly it allowed me to acknowledge the pain and heal from it. That was so freeing. I accepted the trauma, then let it go. In return I was given the precious first few days of motherhood I had never known. It has been one of the most beautiful manifestations of Christ's love for me as He helped me let go of all the pain and fear my mind and body had accepted as the reality of childbirth.

The other scars and trauma come from a part of my life most of you are unaware of. Previously I viewed those two years as a crippling weakness, a dark shadow of my life I never wanted anyone to know about. However, the events of this past year gave me the strength to seek out help, finally face the demons from my first two years of college, and acknowledge I wasn't as healed as I thought from them.

During my freshman and sophomore years of college I was involved in a severely abusive relationship. It affected my grades, family, friends, spiritual testimony, physical health, and self worth. Although I moved on and turned my life around, I thought simply suppressing all the pain was enough to carry on with the rest of my life. But this Fall when an innocent little girl grabbed my wrist hard to ask me a question and my whole body shut down, my blood pressure skyrocketed and I could barely breathe, I realized I wasn't as healed as I thought. That's when I noticed little patterns in my life that weren't normal. For example, I couldn't take the trash out at night without breaking into a cold sweat, vividly imagining I would be attacked. I couldn't roll over and look at the bedroom door in the middle of the night because I was too afraid. I couldn't go to a shooting range with my husband without breaking down into full, body-shaking sobs at the sound of a gunshot. When my little boy would throw a tantrum, often I'd put him in timeout just so he wouldn't see me emotionally shut down and cry, too. None of that is normal. It's textbook PTSD. So I faced my fear, pushed through my pride and called a therapist. It was the single best decision I made this year.

Through the help of my wonderful therapist, my incredibly supportive husband, and my relationship with my Savior I made huge (we're talking Grand Canyonesque huge) strides in letting go of all the trauma and fear associated with those two years. It has completely changed my concept of self worth, forgiveness, and mental health. In the past few months I've become a better wife and mother. I've let go of so much pain and grief and realized most of my fear was irrational and destructive. It has been so liberating!

Now I understand all this healing happened at just the right time. I was in a good place. My marriage and family were fantastic, and I had all the tools I needed to face the music, take the necessary steps to detach myself from the fear and look at it from a removed perspective. It was all part of Heavenly Father's plan for me. I don't know where Brenton's new job will take us, but I will be forever grateful for everything Kentucky has given me. I have a new son, a new perspective on childbirth, and a new perspective on life. Now I know no matter where we end up I will be more than just happy, I will thrive.

Fourteen has always been my lucky number. It makes perfect sense that I will go into 2014 a new woman, full of the confidence and strength I've always had but was brainwashed into believing wasn't there. This will finally be my year. Bring it on, 2014. This girl is on fire.

Our Mushy Romance

This past week marks six years since my and Brenton's first date. I know, this is the part where half of you think, "awwww! They're so sweet!" and the other half roll your eyes and think, "here she goes again with all that mushy romantic stuff. Gag me."

Well, that's exactly what this post is about. All that mushy stuff.

You see, when two hopeless romantics fall in love with each other, we tend to celebrate all the little stuff. First date, the day we became boyfriend and girlfriend, the day he proposed, you get the picture. But as sweet and special as all of that "mushy" stuff is, that's not the stuff I'm talking about. I didn't choose to marry Brenton because he remembers little anniversaries and buys me flowers, although those are wonderful things I appreciate about him.

I married Brenton because he pinched my nose closed today so I could swallow nasty medicine while mushy snot ran down my chin as I held our baby boy.

I married Brenton because he asks for seconds of my mushy pasta that I left on the stove too long while consoling our three-year-old who stubbed his toe.

I married Brenton because he has eyes only for me, no matter how mushy my waistline gets after having two children.

I married Brenton because he humbly changes mushy diaper after mushy diaper without a single complaint.

I married Brenton because he mows the mushy, overgrown lawn after a rainstorm so I don't have to.

I married Brenton because he still wraps me in his arms after a long day, even if my shirt is covered in mushed up baby food.

I married Brenton because he sits down and watches mushy movies with me that he wouldn't choose himself.

I married Brenton because he knew our marriage wouldn't always be perfect or easy.

Because when real life sets in, it's messy. It's mushy, often mundane, and exhausting. I think that's why we love celebrating all the little things so much, because it brings back the spark of what caused us to fall in love in the first place. But those sparks aren't the real reason we made the eternal commitment to be together. Our love is a strong fire built on work, trust, sacrifice, and unfailing loyalty. And those things are what sustain us through the rest of the mushy stuff.

So even though I hoped to spend today celebrating the 6th anniversary of our first date by splitting a butterbeer at Starbucks and perusing the half-priced bookstore being all mushy and starstruck, I was reminded of the true, deep, sincere love we have for each other as I used up an entire box of tissues on the couch while Brenton took care of our boys. That's real love, and I'm so blessed I found a man who understands it. Here's to another year of all that mushy stuff.

Live Your Dreams

One of my favorite songs of all time is "Rainbow Connection" sung by the timeless Kermit The Frog. It's a song about dreams, and how believing in stars or wishes is really just a catalyst for believing in yourself. Since I was a little girl, every time I hear those opening notes I picture Mr. The Frog sitting in the middle of a pond, strumming the banjo. It's what has always sparked my desire to learn to play it someday.

Someday.

Our lives are full of somedays. "Someday I'll do this, go there, learn this, try that. Someday, someday, someday. One of the biggest roadblocks to Someday is having children. Don't misunderstand me. Marrying my husband and having our two boys have been the three best decisions and greatest dreams of my life. I don't regret any of it for a second, and they more than make up for the sacrifices I make on their behalf. But when you're a mother, many if not most of your own personal aspirations get set aside in order to raise your children. At the end of the day the hours and money just don't add up for anything extra. That's why everything gets pushed to Someday.

About a month or so ago it came up in conversation with my mother that I've always dreamed of playing the banjo. But it's not a priority, it's a Someday dream. One that when push comes to shove will probably never happen, but is still fun to talk about because it makes me believe someday I will have time to persue new things for myself.

A week ago when when my parents were here visiting, my mother said they had an early birthday gift to give me. (My birthday's in December). And there it was: a beautiful, Kermit-approved banjo.  I couldn't believe it! It meant so much more to me than just a really cool instrument that I couldn't wait to start playing. To me it was a symbol of never giving up on my dreams. Yes, being a mother takes a lot of time, and there are always going to be things I will put aside for Someday. But that doesn't mean I have to give up on myself. There are dreams I can persue now, and that's important. It will make me a better mom by taking time for some of my own dreams, too.

It has been such a blast learning how to play one of the coolest instruments ever. I feel like a million bucks every time I sit down to practice. And guess what song I learned first?

An Appointment at Vanderbilt

This past Thursday Ryan had a doctor's appointment at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital. It was nothing serious. At his three-year wellness appointment his pediatrician noticed his hip and leg alignment was a bit uneven, and that he has flat feet. He wanted pediatric orthopedics to see if there was anything we needed to do to fix it, and the closest office was at Vanderbilt. For those unfamiliar with the hospital, it's top notch. Like St. Jude, it's a research hospital with many doctors known for their breakthrough procedures.

As we made our way through the building, I noticed how bright and friendly everything looked. If I didn't know better, I would have thought we were in a fun children's discovery museum. There were neat displays of toys, bright star-tiled floors and friendly staff at every turn. Everyone treated Ryan like he was a superstar. I was so touched by their kindness, knowing they treated every child that way whether he was there for a simple check-up or something far more serious.

Despite the friendly decor and cheerful staff, you could feel the tension and pressure of the hospital's purpose at every turn. The air was thick with it. The friendliness was almost unnerving because I knew the motive behind it. While you couldn't see them in the front lobbies, dozens of children were inside fighting for their lives, with devoted parents praying for a miracle. I said a silent prayer of gratitude that I wasn't one of them.

As we sat in the waiting room of orthopedics, I looked around and saw several children in wheelchairs, some with limbs curved in ways they shouldn't be, others in casts or braces. Beside each one of them was a mother and/or father, looking tired and a bit lost. But I sat there watching my healthy, three-year-old little boy hopping from one giant-painted dinosaur footprint to the next with ease. So often I forget what a miracle it is that he's even alive, let alone has no side-effects from his scary birth. He could have easily been one of the children in the upper floors of that hospital, having yet another surgery as a result of his complicated birth, with me and Brenton anxiously pacing the halls, praying for yet another miracle. But he wasn't, and we weren't.

As it turns out, the very friendly and wonderful doctors informed us Ryan's knocked knees are nothing to worry about, and will correct themselves over time. They had him run up and down the hallway giving the staff high fives to check his alignment. And we also learned his flat feet are just genetically built that way, inherited from his daddy. There's nothing to do because Ryan's feet have beautiful arches, they just disappear when he stands. If he has pain we can give him extra arch support in his shoes, but that's it. No big deal. He skipped out of the room all smiles, proudly showing off the Mickey Mouse sticker he put on his shirt upside down in order to face him as he looked at it.

We enjoyed the rest of the day as a family in Nashville, and as I watched Ryan run, laugh and play while I pushed Jackson in the stroller, my heart was so full of gratitude for my two healthy, beautiful children. Later, I sat in the car feeding Jackson and said a prayer for those parents who didn't get to leave the hospital that day to take their children to the park. I thanked the Lord for my family and for the precious gift of their health. It made me hold them a little tighter that night before bedtime kisses. I sure love my family: flat feet, knock knees and all.

Jackson Rafael Hoyos' Birth Story

My heart is so full it's hard to know where to start. Jackson's birth was a completely different experience from Ryan's. It was a day of great emotional healing for me. I had never experienced a birth where everything went right. I didn't realize how big the hole was in my heart after Ryan's birth, and how Jackson's would fill all the loss I'd been suppressing for nearly three years. But it really did, every whit.

The night before Jackson's scheduled delivery I hardly slept. I was far too excited/nervous, not to mention uncomfortable with a full-term baby inside of me. Luckily, we had to be at the hospital very early so at 4:15AM I gratefully got out of bed to get dressed and ready to go. After packing up some last minute things and Brenton eating breakfast (I had to fast), we loaded everything up and set out for the hospital. I felt so calm during the drive. With no traffic the trip flew by as we followed the pink sunrise to the hospital.

Upon arrival Brenton gave me a blessing stating all would be well and Jackson would be perfectly healthy. I felt calm and very prepared as we walked into the hospital together. After registration and making sure my orders were correct, they taped on my wrist band and lead me to Labor and Delivery. There was no rush, no panic, just friendly nurses who chatted away as I laid on the bed and started an IV of fluids. I began to feel the excitement of knowing in just another hour I'd be holding Jackson. It buoyed me up as they took a blood sample and I swallowed the nasty antacid suspension. Then it was time for Brenton to suit up in his scrubs for the OR.

At this point I was ready to be moved to final prep before surgery. This was the part I was most dreading because I knew it would hurt and Brenton couldn't be in the room with me. Suddenly, I was filled with anxiety as my mind flashed back to Ryan's traumatic delivery. I began to sob uncontrollably almost out of nowhere. It was completely unexpected. I knew all would be well. I knew nothing that happened during Ryan's delivery would happen with Jackson's, but being back in a hospital setting flooded my mind with all the fears and emotions I had suppressed for three years. No matter how I tried I couldn't get myself to calm down. I sobbed all the way down the hall as I was wheeled to the room for the spinal block and waited. Noticing it was taking a while for the doctors to come, Brenton asked if he could sit with me until they performed the spinal block. The nurses agreed and I began to calm down. I felt so foolish for falling apart like that, but I really had no control over it. Thankfully, with Brenton holding my hand and stroking my hair I was able to compose myself somewhat until Dr. South arrived and it was time for the spinal block.

My anxiety returned somewhat when Brenton had to leave, but knowing Dr. South was there and we were minutes away from the surgery gave me strength to handle the spinal block on my own. The nurses and anesthesiologist were very kind. One of the nurses kept talking to me, asking me questions about Jackson to keep me distracted. It was very helpful, and even though I was still crying, it kept my mind off the pain. After a few minutes the spinal block was in and I was wheeled to the operating room.

At this point my anxiety was at its greatest. The last time I was in an operating room was very scary, and the memory of it was almost too much to handle. I was so terrified I began to shake. They brought Brenton in quickly and he helped me calm down significantly. Then, almost as soon as it had started, I stopped crying. I felt a wave of peace flood over me and knew everything was going to be just fine. The worst was over, and in minutes Jackson would be born. As this wasn't an emergency c-section, Dr. South was able to carefully take her time with each layer of the incision. I paid much more attention to what was happening to my body. There was a lot of pressure, and instead of the baby being pulled out of the birth canal as Ryan was, I felt them push down on my stomach to help Jackson come out. It was so much pressure at one point I couldn't breathe. Most importantly I wanted to hear Jackson's first cry. I never heard Ryan's as he was unresponsive at birth. I was afraid it would be too noisy and I'd miss it, so I kept asking the nurses, "is he coming?" about every thirty seconds.

Before we knew it, Jackson was pulled out and Dr. South said, "what a chubby guy! He's huge!," and then I heard it: Jackson's first cry. It was a culmination of relief, joy, gratitude, and love. They brought him over to me right away. I felt his tiny hand that moments earlier was in my belly, wrap around my finger as I watched his perfectly healthy lungs rise and fall with his first breaths. Brenton was right next to me; our baby was fine. It was the moment I had dreamed and wished for three years ago but never got. It was perfect, and more beautiful than I imagined. Jackson Rafael Hoyos was born July 24th, 2013, at 7:59 AM weighing 8 lbs. 14 oz. and 20 1/2 inches long.

They put a diaper on Jackson and wiped him down, then placed him on my chest. I felt as though my heart couldn't possibly hold all the love I felt for my sweet baby boy. Just minutes earlier he had been inside me, and now here he was, resting peacefully on my chest, perfect as could be. After a minute or two the nurse adjusted him so he could try to breastfeed. Almost instinctively, Jackson rooted and began to nurse. The other doctors in the OR couldn't believe it. Apparently it is very rare for c-section babies to nurse right after being born. They said they'd only ever seen it happen twice before. I was so proud of him!

Dr. South took extra care with stitching me up to minimize scar tissue, and then I was wheeled to Recovery to be cleaned up. Brenton went to the Nursery where Jackson was cleaned, weighed, and measured. I missed them so much, but couldn't leave Recovery until I could move my toes on my own. I remember staring at my feet, willing every neuron in my brain to make them move, but they just sat there, discouragingly still. Every ten minutes a nurse would come and massage my tummy to help my uterus contract, and each time it hurt more and more, which was a good sign the spinal block was fading. They'd ask, "can you move your toes?" and I felt like a six-year-old misspelling the word 'cat' as my feet stubbornly refused to move. The nurse would give me a patronizing smirk and say, "I guess we'll try again later, won't we?" It was maddening. Finally, I begged one of the nurses to bring Jackson while I waited for the spinal block to wear off. After a few minutes of lecturing and informing me it wasn't procedure to bring the baby into Recovery, I stubbornly insisted they bring him anyway. Looking distinctly ruffled, the nurse called up to the Nursery and a minute later Brenton and Jackson were wheeled into my little partitioned bed space. I was so happy to hold my baby I didn't even realize my feet started moving seconds later. I covered his little face with kisses, and the nurses upon seeing my wriggling toes quickly released me to Postpartum, just like that.

At this point we were ready to call parents and family to announce the good news. Jackson was finally here, safe and sound! My wonderful doctor didn't make me wait 24 hours to eat solid food and had Dining Services bring up a huge celebratory breakfast. Brenton called family while I inhaled my food gratefully. I couldn't believe Jackson was resting so peacefully with me and doctors weren't coming in left and right to check on him. He wasn't hooked up to any monitors or being given any medicines. No one came in insisting they take him away for tests or scans. Everything was different from what I experienced with Ryan. I had all the time in the world to bond with my baby. It was wonderful.

It wasn't until Jackson was born and safely in my arms that I realized how much healing I desperately needed from Ryan's birth. I had no idea how scarred his delivery had made me, and how warped my perception of childbirth was because of it. While I knew Jackson was my second child, for those first 48 hours it was as if I was experiencing motherhood for the very first time, getting to enjoy all the precious first moments I'd dreamed of having but never received. Jackson's birth filled the gaping hole in my heart I never realized was left there. After only two days in the hospital, we were both discharged. It was wonderful to go home all together with no legal battles, haggling with nurses, or flood of paperwork to fill out.

A year ago I was writing posts about the heartbreak of negative pregnancy tests month after month. Now here I sit cradling my sweet baby in my arms, filled with so much gratitude my heart could burst. I have two miraculous little boys. Ryan is proof that miracles happen in a sincere moment of need. Jackson is proof that prayers are answered and the Lord keeps his promises. I am so in love with my sons. They are my two greatest achievements. In a very special blessing I was given in my youth I was told I'd have a "great posterity to raise up unto the Lord." I always assumed that meant I'd have a lot of kids. But maybe it means while my children may be few in number, they will be truly great. Looking into their sweet faces, how could it be anything but the latter?

For those who missed it on my Facebook page, here is a photo slideshow of Jackson's birth. We're so happy he's finally here!

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A Good Cleaning

This past Friday Brenton and I visited to the Nashville temple to perform sealings. For those unfamiliar with Latter-day Saint temples, they are different from our weekly meetinghouses. Temples are sacred buildings where church members can participate in ordinances designed to unite families forever and draw closer to God. One of these ordinances is known as a sealing, which binds marriages and families on earth for eternity. In 2009, Brenton and I were married in the Washington D.C. temple, and as part of the ceremony were sealed for time and all eternity. Because of this sacred ordinance, I know no matter what happens here on earth Brenton and I will be together forever with our children. It is one of the greatest blessings I've ever received.

The temple is also a place where that same ordinance can be performed for families who did not have the chance to be sealed during their lifetimes. We perform these sealings by proxy, meaning the same ordinance we did for ourselves is performed with both of us taking the place of those deceased. I find great comfort in knowing the Lord loves all His children and provides this opportunity for those who have passed away.

Before going to the temple, I always like to polish and clean my wedding rings. It's not part of any religious ceremony, just my own personal ritual. When I take the time to clean off the dirt and grime that comes from everyday wear, the diamonds glisten like they did the day Brenton slipped them on my finger. Then at the temple, where everything is so clean and bright, I always delight in seeing my newly shined rings sparkle under the lights. They are a symbol of the eternal commitment I made to love my husband forever, and seeing them in the temple as we perform sealings together brings the whole ordinance full circle for me.

Just as I take time to clean my rings, it reminds me to do a routine cleaning of our marriage, too. The everyday wear and tear of life can build up dirt and grime that if we don't take the time to clear away, can dim the love we once shared. On our drive to the temple I thought about ways I could be a better wife, and things I could do to keep our marriage strong. I looked for weaknesses and planned ways to improve. I shared these ideas with Brenton and told him many things I appreciate about him. When we arrived at the temple it was wonderful to sit in the sealing room together knowing I'd taken the time to clean away the problems and struggles keeping our marriage from shining as brightly as it could. As I held his hand, I was reminded of how sacred and special our marriage is, and was grateful to know it is an eternal bond. The glistening diamonds on my left hand sparkled back at me as a shiny reminder, too.

One Month to Go!!!

Yes, one month from today I'm scheduled to deliver Jackson Rafael via c-section. If I go into labor before then he'll still be delivered through cesarean, but at 39 weeks he's definitely coming out. One month from today. Seeing that date flash across my phone this morning really put into perspective just how close we are to becoming a family of four.

Most days I can't wait to be done with this pregnancy. There's no getting around it: pregnancy stinks. And the thought of going another four weeks with Mr. Boxing Champ using my spleen as a punching bag and bladder as a mattress makes me cringe. Yet again, four weeks? Wow. If I had space in my freezer I'd be making meals for it like crazy. I did pack my suitcase for the hospital, install the carseat, wash and sort all the baby clothes, and make a registry for the few items we could use. I've also been working incredibly hard to make sure Ryan is as prepared as possible for Jackson's arrival. It's taken a few months of diligent patience, but I really feel we have a solid plan, and I'm so proud of my amazing son. Now I'm deep cleaning a part of the house each day since I know I won't be doing any of that for weeks after childbirth. As part of that though, I'm under strict orders not to lift anything over 10 lbs. which is why I'm so grateful Brenton's been working more from his home office and can be here to help. He's been a tremendous support, not that that's any surprise to anyone. I did, in fact, marry Captain Amazing.

I've been incredibly lazy about posting week-by-week belly shots. So before Jackson arrives, perhaps I should update that progress. I missed a few weeks here and there, but you'll get the general idea. (hint: my belly gets bigger over time!)

In case this ends up being my last post before Jackson is born, thank you to each of you for your support, love and prayers. This has been a very difficult pregnancy, and having such wonderful friends and family encouraging me through it has been invaluable. Jackson is proof that prayers are heard and answered in the Lord's way and timing. We are so grateful he is almost here!

Week 19

Week 20

Week 21

Week 22: Forgot to take a pic, but here's us on Easter Sunday that week. 

Week 23

Week 24

Week 25

Week 26

Week 27

Week 28: Forgot a picture, but this is from our 4th anniversary that week

Week 29 Forgot a photo again, but here's a picture from Mother's Day that week

Week 30

Week 31: Forgot a photo, but at the store that week I had to snap a photo of my "bun in the oven!"

Week 32: Sorry, folks. No photo for this week!

Week 33: We went to the Abernathy Family Reunion in Gatlinburg, TN this week. Here's us mini golfing.

Week 34

Daddy's Smile, Mommy's Eyes

There is plenty I need to catch up on, but today I'm more focused on this guy:

In a few months, Ryan's whole world is going to change. It seems he senses this, and has been vying for our attention nearly every second through both good and not-so-good behavior. In a way, it's been helpful to have him pull a personality 180 now, so we have some time to plan and figure out how to help him through this major transition. We're all adjusting and trying new ways to help him feel loved, yet not express his cravings for attention through negative behavior. We have good days and hard days, and almost everything we try takes us two steps forward one week, one step back the next, but it's getting better. While it's definitely requiring more time and effort on my part, Ryan is making me a better mom, and helping me realize not all techniques work for every child.

A few weeks ago I was chatting with my sister about the many reasons I'm so in love with Ryan. There are the obvious things, like how smart, happy, and outgoing he is, but one of my absolute favorite things about Ryan is his smile. Ryan is our first born. He's the first person ever to have both mine and Brenton's genes. He's the beautiful result of our marriage and decision to raise a family. From the first time I witnessed him smile, I knew there was something extra special about him.

You see, Ryan has his daddy's mouth. In fact, from the nose down he is all Daddy. This means every time I see my sweet little boy smile, I see Brenton. When Ryan's happy face beams at me I think, "that's the same smile I fell in love with!" and fall in love with it all over again. I look for hundreds of reasons a day to see Ryan smile and remember the way it felt to fall in love with a green-eyed boy from Kansas. But, Ryan's eyes are brown; a deep, rich, chocolatey brown that's so dark from far away you can't distinguish the iris from the pupil. In short, Ryan has my eyes. It's one of the few physical features he got from me, and I love it. Especially when he smiles, because not only do I get to see the smile I fell in love with, but also the way my eyes look every time Brenton smiles at me. I get the entire package of my husband's smile and my reaction with one look from my son. It's amazing, and I can't get enough of it!

I'm not sure what Jackson's facial features will look like, but I know he'll be the perfect blend of me and Brenton. And who knows? Maybe he'll have my mouth and Brenton's eyes, so Brenton can experience the same thing I do every time Ryan smiles at me!

Baby #2's Big Announcement

I know it's been almost a month since we found out the gender our second baby, but I was holding off blogging about it until we got the pictures back from our friend and professional photographer, Dusty Draper. So while it may not be a surprise for most of you, we are so excited to announce Ryan's soon-to-arrive baby brother!

After my ultrasound, Brenton and I went to the store to get some blue balloons, then put them inside a big box for Ryan. Here's the moment the box opened!

Most likely Ryan was far more excited about the balloons than the fact he's getting a brother, but the moment of surprise was worth it! We were elated to celebrate that special moment as a family. All four of us! 

Showing Ryan Jackson's ultrasound picture. Ryan kept saying, "Oh! That's Jackson! My baby brother! 

We are overjoyed to bring another sweet, precious little boy into our family. Daddy has been very accommodating by moving his office into our bedroom to make a playroom for the boys. We found an old dresser that he's converting into toy shelves, and I've been busy organizing, planning, sewing and crocheting for our baby Jackson. It's amazing to me how the second I found out who our baby was, I knew right away that it was always supposed to be Jackson. I truly felt a sense that he belongs with us, and he's coming at just the right time. We are so excited! 

Jack Jack's first pair of shoes, crocheted by Mommy

Genderly Speaking

I've been a bit lazy with posts during my second trimester. As I mentioned previously, this pregnancy has been far more difficult than Ryan's. My nausea slowly ebbed away during weeks 13-16, and I thought I would finally get some energy back. Unfortunately, I've spent most of the past two months in continued agony not from nausea, but from horrible migraines and severe headaches. My doctor believes them to be due to my ever fluctuating hormones and prescribed Riboflavin (vitamin B2) for the pain. It took about two weeks before I noticed even a slight difference, but now the headaches are manageable. However, sometimes the medicine decides not to work and I'm stuck on the couch for the greater part of an afternoon with an ice pack to my forehead. Who new the baby would be so high maintenance this early on?

Currently I'm 18 weeks, and definitely look very pregnant (see photos at end of post). I'm in stretchy shirts and maternity jeans, getting back pain from the extra weight, and experiencing the joys of insomnia as I try to find a comfortable position each night. This stage in the baby's development also has me looking with great anticipation towards my 20-week ultrasound, when I find out if I'm carrying a boy or girl. Our big day is on March 15th, and I am SO ready to find out!

As the day of gender declaration draws ever closer, I've been thinking a lot about how I will feel once I know who is coming next in our family. I was fairly certain my entire first pregnancy Ryan was a boy. It wasn't really a shock when he proudly showed off his anatomy during my ultrasound. But this one has been a bit trickier. In the beginning, I sincerely hoped for a girl. I thought almost daily, "please give me little girl to put frilly dresses on and make dozens of hair bows for!" Of course it will be fun if Little Peanut is a she-nut, and with this pregnancy being so different from Ryan's I often wonder if the signs are pointed that way, but as the weeks draw closer to finally knowing, I've often longingly imagined how fun it would be to give Ryan a little brother as his best buddy.

So here it is, my thoughts on our second born be it a girl:
If little Angela Rose is on her way, I will be over-the-moon thrilled to welcome a new princess into the family. I've had her Beauty and the Beast room decor planned for years, and you should see my Pinterest board for crochet projects, as almost all of them are baby girl clothing patterns. I would be overjoyed to raise someone who appreciates glittery shoes and tea parties. I tear up just thinking about showing her my treasured paper doll collection. Believe me, at some point in time I will have a daughter, whether it's this pregnancy or another one, and when that day arrives my "forever a little girl playing princess" spirit will be ecstatic.

Thoughts on our second born be it a boy:
If Jackson Rafael is happily growing inside my belly, I will truly be delighted to have another little boy come into our family. I think there's something special about having two of the same gender in a row. Ryan will have a best buddy for life. Every time I ask him if Jackson is coming he says, "yep! And we play trains!" We have a superhero-themed nursery idea for little Jackson, just like Jack-Jack from The Incredibles. Also, having a boy would make things a little easier both mentally and financially. We pretty much have everything we need for another boy, and I'd feel a bit more prepared in raising him because I'll have had a 3 year head start with his big brother. I know how to potty train with little boy equipment in mind. Our house is bursting with trains, cars, planes, and dinosaurs. Jackson would be coming home to a little boy's paradise complete with sandbox, basketball hoop, and adoring big brother to show him the perfect way to pick his nose when Mom's not looking. And let's face it, little boys adore their mamas forever, which makes them pretty easy to love.

Basically, what I'm trying to convey is I'm being honest when I say we are very excited no matter who is on the way, we just really want to know!! I'm grateful technology is so advanced these days that I can find out 20 weeks before the baby comes what to name him/her. Isn't that awesome?

Here's a photo update of my growing belly, weeks 11-18

I didn't take a photo for week 12, but I did have an ultrasound, so here's a picture of our little one!

Cesarean for Life

Indulge me for a moment, because this is the only time I'll bring it up. After this post I will look ahead optimistically and enjoy the perks (be it ever so few) of the hand I've been dealt. Today is not that day. Today, I'm writing about a privilege given to most women that I will never get to have. Ever. It is the privilege of delivering my children vaginally. "How on earth is that a privilege?!" you might ask. "You don't have to deal with hours of agonizing contractions and pushing! You just get to lie on a table, get sliced open and in minutes have a perfect little baby on your chest. Don't tell me you don't have the upper hand!" To those who think vaginal delivery isn't a privilege, for those who are debating on whether or not to request a c-section instead of a vaginal birth, to those who've previously had a c-section and are scared to try for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), or to women who have received the news that they, too, are limited to only cesarean births, this post is for you.

I'm currently 12 weeks pregnant with my second child. My son Ryan was a normal pregnancy, but a very traumatic birth. For the full details, you can read his birth story here. For the abridged version, Ryan's head was delivered vaginally, but he had severe shoulder dystocia preventing the rest of his body from being delivered. Often the doctor will break the baby's collar bone to pull him out as quickly as possible. Ryan, however, had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck so tightly that if his body was pulled out it would have strangled him in seconds. Instead, my doctor pushed Ryan's head back up the birth canal and rushed me into an emergency c-section. The surgery itself was also dangerous because Ryan was so big and had to be physically yanked from my birth canal. Freaked out yet? It gets worse. Because my body had pushed for so long then went through emergency surgery, my uterus quit and I hemorrhaged over 2 liters of blood while my baby fought for his life in the NICU. Yes, this is the abridged version of the story.

I'm telling you all of this because it needs to be made perfectly clear that cesarean births are NOT the ideal. Even if they are planned, it is NOT the best situation. How do I know? Because I literally experienced the worst of both versions in the same day. I'm that girl who when all the moms are swapping birth stories says, "I can top that one!" And trust me when I say it is not a desirable title. No one wants to be that girl.

So why am I bringing this up now? That was two and a half years ago. Well, I'm pregnant again. Yay! I get a second chance at an amazing delivery the way I always dreamed it would be. The kind where after hours of exhausting labor I can push my baby into the world and hear it's beautiful, magical cry. My husband will kiss my forehead, hand me our baby, and I will get to cradle the precious miracle I carried for nine months inside of me. Then I will cover the baby with kisses, nurse him/her, and know that all of the treacherous months of pregnancy were worth it! Doesn't that sound wonderful? Amazing? For those who have had this experience I bet your eyes glistened for a minute as you recalled the glory and triumph of doing something more amazing than a superhero, not to mention a gazillion times more rewarding.

Guess what? I will never get to have that. Nope. Not ever.

After Ryan's delivery I was told by my doctors I could only have cesarean sections from here on out. At the time I was grateful to still be able to have children, so I counted my blessings and in the back of my mind thought, "Maybe I'll still be able to do a VBAC. I bet it's possible. They're just saying that to play it safe." Amazingly, my wonderful baby boy and I made a full recovery, so my hopes to possibly do a VBAC increased just a little bit more.

When I moved to Kentucky I became involved in a group called ICAN. It focuses on providing emotional support for women who've had c-sections, and helps them get the facts about safe VBACs. I learned for many moms a VBAC is possible. I met strong, wonderful women who shared their experiences of VBACs and how rewarding it was. These women inspired and informed me of great OBGYNs in the area who supported VBACs. I'll be forever grateful to them because when I found out I was pregnant with Baby #2, I knew just the right doctor to see. She is a champion for VBACs, and has several success stories to her name. I knew if any doctor could help me, she could.

Today I had my 12 week appointment. I looked at my doctor expectantly, knowing she was about to tell me whether or not we could try for a VBAC. I could read her face before she even spoke a word. Nope. It wasn't possible. She told me how brave I was for surviving Ryan's birth, how hard she was going to work to make my next c-section a truly wonderful experience, but the verdict was in. Cesarean for life.

I always kind of knew that would be the answer, but it's still hard to hear I will never get to cradle my baby seconds after its birth. I will never again go through the triumph of delivering my baby the way God intended. Is it a miracle that I'm able to have children still? Yes. Was this option available back in the day? No. I know all of that. I'm not trying to sound ungrateful. I get to plan the actual day our baby is delivered. And yes, the whole process from walking in the door to Baby being born is about an hour. I know all of that, too. The point I'm trying to make is if I could have it the way it's supposed to be, I would. I so badly want the birth experience every mother dreams of, and now I know that will never happen. Also, with each repeat cesarean I build up scar tissue in my uterus, thus continually limiting my ability to have more children. I'll be lucky, I mean very, very lucky if we can have four kids. I've always wanted a big family. I dreamed of having 5 or 6. It's heartbreaking to know that's physically not an option anymore.

As I said, I'm going to focus on the positive side of it from here on out. I will find ways to grow and learn from the situation in front of me. But today, I'm mourning a loss. The loss to be normal. Who knew that was such a gift in the first place?

So for those of you who don't think vaginal delivery is a privilege, thank your lucky stars that whether you choose to have children or not, the fact that you can vaginally is in fact, a precious gift. For those who are thinking about opting for a c-section for no medical reason, or are too afraid to try a VBAC even though your doctor says you can, please reconsider. It is of course, your choice, but be grateful you actually have a choice, and choose wisely. Finally, for the few who, like me, have been branded with cesarean for life, feel free to follow my blog. Together, hopefully we can make this a positive albeit not ideal experience.

Been There: Done That (or not)

I've already been through this whole pregnancy thing before. At 10 1/2 weeks, you'd think I've got a pretty good handle on everything. After all, nothing's new so it should feel doable this time around as I'm not working full time and can nap whenever Ryan does. How naive I was to believe simply because I've done this before it would be the same or even easier!

Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING about this pregnancy is the same as Ryan's. With Ryan I felt sick, but during the day it was pretty manageable for the most part. I can count the number of times on one hand I threw up during those nine months. Not so with this little one. I am sick, sick, sick, all the time. It is relentless! At this point in Ryan's pregnancy I'd gained over 10 pounds and counting. This time I've lost three and counting. All I wanted to eat with Ryan was sugary things. Cake, candy, chocolate, ice cream, you name it, my sweet tooth wanted it. This time all I want is salt. Crackers, soup, chips, pretzels, pickles (mmmm, pickles), if it's salty I'll eat it. With Ryan my acne was worse than a 15-year-old boy's. Now, oddly enough, my face seems to be clearing up. Weird, right? I was so weepy when I expected Ryan. Any time I saw baby anything I sobbed with excitement and fondly caressed my growing tummy. This time around I'm more cranky and some days I even think, "was this really what I was praying for 8 months for? How am I going to do this again?" I think it's just a different balance of hormones than before, because deep down I am truly thrilled and grateful to be pregnant. It's frustrating when my hormones tell me I should feel otherwise.

Basically, it's true when they say every pregnancy is different. My family is convinced I'm carrying a girl this time because my symptoms are so opposite. That may be true, and we would be THRILLED if little Angela Rose is on the way. But we've also got a 50/50 chance that Jackson Rafael's growing rapidly in my belly, and we'd be delighted to have him, too. Besides, if it is Jackson and symptoms are a good indicator of personality, he's going to be nothing like his big brother. Either way the adventure is speeding along, and we're so grateful to be blessed with another little miracle. Here's to hoping my nausea ends with the first trimester in a few more weeks. Just the thought of feeling this miserable for the entire nine months is making me cry. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go throw up for the fourth time today.

Here's an update on my growing belly progress. I was showing much faster with Ryan. This one seems to be taking his/her time. I'm okay with that. :-)

Week 4

Week 5

Week 6

Week 7

 Week 8

Week 9

Week 10

Funny how as each week goes by I look sicker and sicker. Very accurate pictures, indeed.