...and along came Izzy

So to those few who are following at this point, I am remembering and retelling my birth stories. I must say I am thoroughly enjoying it, as giving birth to my three girls has been three of my greatest accomplishments, and three of the greatest days of my life.

Today I a going to recount my pregnancy and birth story for Isobel.

Sometime in the fall of 2006 we had friends over for dinner who during the course of the evening shared the news that they were expecting their second child. The joy and excitement they felt was palpable and contagious. That night in bed I said to Jake in a very quiet voice just before falling asleep that I wanted to have a baby with him. I wanted to feel what our friends were feeling. I wanted to plan a pregnancy and with someone I truly loved, and who loved me (I was 12 years divorced and a single mom to Cait when I met him). We were not married and had not talked much about this, but we'd bought a house together and were making a life together none-the-less. Jake in a casual voice said 'sure' and I figured he was just appeasing me and that it would be a topic saved for another day. To my surprise as I was heading off to work the next morning, he took me in his arms and in the most serious voice I had ever heard him use said 'I want to have a baby with you too'. As I drove to work I pondered this with a grin that I am sure could be seen from miles away. So we were going to plan to have a baby...but when?

As we discussed the logistics of all of this, we did some research. I was on Depo Provera and had been for a number of years. All the reading we did indicated that it could be difficult to conceive after stopping the injections. I was gutted, but if we wanted to have children we needed to start this process sooner rather than later. We decided I would have a final injection in October and that would be finished in January after which we would begin the process of trying to conceive.

We got engaged that Christmas and when January was here, I got out a new calendar and noted everything on it...you know what I mean by everything...Jake was mortified, but I wanted to keep track so I could determine when my cycle returned to normal and when it was most advantages to try. I needn't have worried. I had a normal cycle in February and conceived in early March...wow. We thought it would be hard, but we were wrong.

Another uneventful pregnancy ensued and we enjoyed every moment of it. At the time we lived a hour north of my parents whom we visited almost every weekend. Towards the end of the pregnancy we decided it might be best not to be too far from home in case things started to happen, but one Friday after having been off work for a week or so, I was terribly bored and wanted to do something...anything. So we decided to go to my parents just for the night. We arranged to meet them for dinner and then went back to their place. We went to bed as usual, and everything seemed quite normal...until I woke up a little wet at about 5:30am.  As anyone who has been at the end of a pregnancy knows, a little wetness is not immediate cause for concern. I quietly went to the washroom to confirm my suspicions, and yes my waters had ruptured...not all the way I was sure, but this was indeed the start of everything. Of course we were an hour away from home and our hospital, but I knew there was no need to panic. I laid back down without waking Jake for another half hour when the contractions started to come. At that point I thought it prudent to make him aware and there was quick moment of slight panic for him before I assured him things were fine, but we'd best collect our things and head home. We woke Caitlin who could not at first figure out why we were waking her when she'd only just gone to sleep, but tell a dreary teen you are in labour and man can you get them to move fast.

driving home in labour

On our way home Cait timed the contractions from the back seat and they were coming fairly regular at 5 mins apart.

Once home we called the hospital and were told to come in as soon as we felt comfortable but not to wait too long. We only lived a block away so we organised ourselves, packed some time wasting things and walked to the hospital. A 5 min walk took a bit longer in between contractions, but was good for labour.

We wrote out a birth plan so that there was not a repeat of my first experience. In that plan we noted that it was imperative that I did not want any drugs...none. I wanted to be fully aware and feel everything throughout this process. The doctor did not understand why and kept telling me that I was not going to win a medal for doing this without drugs, but that is how I wanted it. One of the other stipulations I made was that I wanted a quiet birthing experience. I did not want cheerleaders shouting at me telling me to push or breathe, or anything else...I wanted it as quiet as could be...of course I was making lots of noise and at one point the nurse told me it was okay if I swore and that unleashed a torrent of curse words that my mother kept apologizing for in the waiting room.

We stayed around the 4 to 5 minute mark in between contractions for quite some time, and then my waters broke fully and things started to progress a little more. Everything went well until I stalled at 9cm...everything just slowed and the contractions were one on top of another and quite intense but no change in dilation. Our hospital is quite progressive in it's approach to childbirth and the doctor and nurses had me in every position imaginable to get things moving and to get the baby to drop and thin the cervix to it's 10cm. the final position was the squatting bar. The doctor told me that if this didn't work, we would have to do a c-section as the whole thing was getting hard on the baby. So squat I did with Jake by my side for every breath. Finally I remember crying 'I can't do this anymore' to which the nurses cheered...it seems that when a woman reaches that point it is time to go...to push. And this would be the case for me. The squatting bar worked, and I was now 10cm and fully effaced and ready to push. I remember the doctor slowly getting ready and me being consumed by the need to push but being told to wait. Caitlin who had been present for most of the labour had exited the room a little while previous as it got to be a bit much for her, but the doctor would have none of it...he ushered her in told her where to stand. Three good pushes and Isobel Grace was born weighing 6lbs 11oz 14 hours after my labour began. Jake would be offered the cord to cut, but he could not handle that, so Cait was pulled in and cut the cord and to this day she will tickle Izzy's tummy and touch her belly button saying 'I made that'. It makes my heart melt every time.

And so it is that almost 4 years ago I gave birth the another most beautiful, funny, smart little girl. She makes me laugh daily, and astounds me with her understanding of the world. It will be interesting to see the person she grows into...too bad I can't keep her little for a bit longer.

Thanks all...and I would love to hear some of your pregnancy or birth stories. It is such an amazing experience no matter how it unfolds.

Bundle o joy...

It has been a very busy week since my last post and please accept my apologies for this. When I started writing this it was about 9pm and both my little girls (who share a room) were screeching and giggling with each other...I thought I could get away with not stepping in as they were not crying, or jumping around, but alas I had to step in and it is now two days later that I finish this post.

While I have not had time to post recently, I have been stealing away a few moments now and again to read blogs...what did I ever do before I found this world? Anyhoo...a few days ago A Cup of Jo was all about breast feeding and Jo asked her readers to share their stories. It was a wonderful post and it was so good to read all the comments from breastfeeding moms to bottle feeding moms. It was a good dialogue offering opinions and not judgements. It got me thinking about my experiences nursing my three girls and about my birth stories for each. So I thought I would share...if you don't mind.

My oldest daughter is Caitlin. She is a wonderful, smart, funny, beautiful, 21 year old woman now...which is just crazy, and although she thinks I remember nothing about her childhood, I remember all the important bits.

Caitlin  age 21 and Chester (her new puppy)

I was just 16 when I realized I was pregnant. It was a scary time, full of decisions, consequences and pain for me and for my family. When we found our way to the other side having decided that her father (who was 10 years older than me) and I would get married (our choice not my parents), we adjusted to the new life we were all embarking on. When I came to terms with the fact that this was happening, I fell in love with this baby and with being pregnant. The pregnancy was uneventful but for some major morning sickness for the first trimester. I cannot explain it, but in a time before you could find out the sex of your baby I just knew I was having a girl. It seemed to be innate, I only ever picked out a girls name and bought girls clothing without thinking about it. It just seemed that I knew it was a girl though I never really thought about it that much.

Cait age 12ish

One evening towards the end of the pregnancy we were sure we were in labour...we had called the hospital numerous times hoping to get clarification, and finally decided it was best to head over there in person. In we went excited that we would be leaving with our baby...or not. It seems I was not in labour and I was basically told I was stupid for coming in and wasting their time. Not in those words, but that was the basic tone of the night. It was awful walking out of the maternity ward hearing newborns cry and seeing moms and dads with their little bundles and not having one ourselves yet, but it would come, we were just impatient.

Cait age 17

About two weeks later the real show began late one night and it was clear that this was different. Not wanting a repeat of our previous trip to the hospital, I was adamant that I was not going to the hospital that evening. Finally early the next morning I was told we were going and it was no longer my choice...so off we went and after being admitted, checked and confirmed that I was in labour we were off and running. We arrived at the hospital at about 5:30am, around 11am they decided to break my water and then -boom- the contractions really hit hard and fast. One on top of another it was all I could do to catch my breath before the next one was upon me. At one point I levelled my then husband dislocating his thumb as I grabbed his hand during a contraction... However I felt I was doing okay, so when I was told to roll on my side and they injected me with something I was confused.

We had spoken with our OB about not wanting any drugs, and here they were sticking me with what I would later find out to be Demerol...which I would be allergic to. Needless to say this changed the dynamic of the whole affair and now I could not even keep my eyes open. Just before 2pm it was time to push and push I did. With not too much work, she arrived at 2:15pm on a beautiful early May day. Weighing 7lbs 5oz she was the image of her father people would say though now they say she is the image of me (lucky her). It wouldn't be until much later when I recovered from the Demerol and an infection that I would be upset that the doctors had not abided by my wishes. This very thing would be the center pin of my birth plans for the younger two girls. There was no discussion about my options, nor why they felt I needed the injection. From my perspective I was fine, the baby was fine and there was no need for intervention. My guess is they felt a 16 year old could not handle childbirth and felt it their place to step in without consent or consultation.

Regardless, everything turned out fine and though she was a little jaundiced, and I had the infection and the allergic reaction, we went home from the hospital after several days and recovered nicely.

Cheer Cait!

Over the next several days and weeks, I would make my best attempts to breast feed. I was immensely uncomfortable with the whole thing but knowing it was what was best for my baby I tried. It hurt, I had no support with it, as my own mother had never breast fed, and I cried every time I had to feed her...which as those of you who are mothers well know is often. After a few weeks, my family doctor finally encouraged me to bottle feed her telling me that my state of mind as I was nursing her was not good for her. The fact that I was so uncomfortable meant she was not getting the emotional connection that she needed. In hindsight I am sad that I did not soldier on, however I believe that at the time it was the best decision for us all.

Speaking of hindsight, fast forward two years and I am sitting in a surgeon's office discussing breast reduction surgery and being asked if I would want to nurse  again...being closer to my first experience and not even contemplating having more kids in the future I said no...big mistake...more on that when I share Izzy's birth story.

As an aside...there are not baby pics in this post...I am at the gallery without the aid of my photos and my scanner...so forgive me Caitlin...but everyone can trust me that she was adorable right from the word go! These photos were grabbed from our facebook pages.

And to my beautiful grown girl...never forget that your mother loves you with all her heart and is proud beyond measure...you were there first and have been by my side the longest...thank you and I love you.

Cait and I about 4 years ago