Looking Forward and Holding On

I was coming home from my OB appointment the other day, and someone texted asking how I was feeling.  My response was, "Huge."  Haha, it's true.  She then responded that she knew the feeling but that as soon as this little one was earthside, I'd simultaneously be in complete love with the tiny baby cuddled up to me and missing the miracle of pregnancy.  She's right. 

I don't know why I do it, but I do.  I try to take in all of the amazing moments of pregnancy...the little kicks, the knowing that I'm being used as a vessel for a child to be born, the sheer awe of it all.  But, I also find myself texting my sister pictures of my feet that no longer have any definition, half joking at how big they can get before this baby comes and half joking because if I don't, I might cry (not really, but I don't like being swollen).  I run into people and find myself making comments about my size, maybe so they won't do it first.  Yes, I know I'm big.  Yes, I know it looks like twins.  Yes, I'm a bit vain and sometimes shake my head that I didn't do a bit more to stay in better shape.

But, then I near the end and have discovered that I'm carrying a lot more amniotic fluid than I should.  More than likely, nothing will come of it.  And if you want to go on being a sane, pregnant momma, don't google the risks. 

I am not worried, but it does make me think.  It makes me so very grateful for the gifts I've been given in being able to carry most of my babies to term with no complications.  It makes me cringe to think that I complain about the fact that I can barely fit anything around this tummy or on these feet when I've wept with friends who would give anything to be in my shoes...literally.

I feel like I count down the days to holding this little one, and sometimes forget to sit in the beauty of the now.  Because when this tummy is gone, I will forget what it was like to have it.

And, I hate forgetting.  I know that's so weird to say.  But, I feel like that's why I take so many pictures.  Because I've truly forgotten the moments.  I don't remember what each of my babies were like when they first arrived.  Sure, I can look at photos and be reminded, but it's never like being in the moment again.  And, the moments go too quickly (except for those in which your child is whining or screaming like a maniac...those seem to last longer than most).  But, I don't want to forget.

Will I forget what it's like to be pregnant?  Sure.  Will there come a time when it's my last pregnancy?  Of course.  And, I don't know when that will be.  So, if this is it, I don't want to forget these moments...even these last ones...when I'm a bit (read a lot) more moody and difficult to be around than I should be.  I don't want to forget the five little kiddos who ask me every morning when their sister will be here.  I don't want to forget what it's like to feel like this belly may burst open at any minute, as uncomfortable as it may be...because there is life inside.

I like to hold on.  And, I can't.  I have to let go to enjoy the moments right in front of me.  But, I seem to have to re-learn this day by day.  And, when she finally does arrive, and her littleness is so fleeting, I'll have to be reminded (again and again) to let go, in order to fully love each precious moment as I am in it...not aching for the past or worrying about the future, but being in the now.

So, for the next few weeks (or days), I'll be waddling along in probably the same outfit I wore yesterday (and the day before that), praying for the safe arrival of our seventh child and thanking God that I get to do this, because I never want to forget the gift that it is.

The First Half

I don't think there's any doubting that I love pregnancy and childbirth.  I mean, of course, not all of it, but most of it!  This time around, I wanted to document the days more, in the event that it's my last...because I don't want to forget.  But, here I am at 22 weeks, and this is basically my first post.  Good intentions.  Bad follow through.

I don't want to forget...

...the emotions that come with seeing that faint, faint line.  This time around, I was in our guest bathroom, cleaning up remnants of our third round of a stomach bug (while my husband was in another room, sick), and I thought, what the heck, "why not take a test?"  The previous months had contained more than one chemical pregnancy, so while I was anxious to see that second line, I also was leery of it.  Would it stick this time?  Would it fade away again?  It was darker than that last time, so I had hope!  Three days later, I told Jeremy.

...the back and forth between being so excited and my pants quickly not fitting.  I know, I know.  This is vain.  But, with every pregnancy, regardless of how in or out of shape I've been before, I show a little earlier and get bigger faster.  While, I wouldn't trade any of it for the miracle of another life, the thickness that every single part of my body becomes sometimes gets to me (especially when I know I shouldn't have eaten the Oreos, ha).

...that after about two weeks of knowing I'm carrying a new life, I quickly wonder what I was thinking.  It's so easy to forget about the nausea, food aversions, and just general feeling of yuckiness when you're not in it, but when you are in it, man the minutes creep by!  This time was more difficult than others.  My girl pregnancies have always been, but I was so worried at first that something was wrong. 

...that while I feel huge now, I will look back to this week in a a few weeks and laugh at that feeling.

...the first kicks.  How amazing it is to know they're from teeny tiny life inside...and how much I forget to appreciate that at night when I'm trying to sleep and he/she is trying to do anything but that.

...the beauty of seeing what God created a woman's body to do...as everything stretches and transforms to house this babe, and as frustrated as I get with myself for not looking a certain way, exercising enough or eating right, it's difficult not to walk past a mirror and simultaneously thank God for the blessing.

So, for the next eighteen or so weeks, hopefully I'll document a bit more, remember to count it all a blessing and dream of who this little one will be.

The Final Days

I know I should learn a thing or two with each pregnancy, but I feel like it's mainly a cycle of repeating for me.  I know that as soon as this little boy enters the world, and I smell the sweetness of his tiny body, I will be so in love and the emotions will pour over me uncontrollably.  If it's anything like the last five times, I'll feel an even greater love for my husband, an intense need to tell my parents how much I love them and how much they mean to me, and a period of equally loving the newness of the little one wrapped in my arms while also dreading each passing second as the tininess slips from my fingers.  

Basically, I'm an emotional wreck for awhile after birth.  I feel everything...extra.  I question everything more than usual.  And, my love for everything is so much deeper.  While I know that, and while I know the emotions will taper and a new normal will arise, I can never avoid it.  I don't really want to, yet being so vulnerable is scary.

Today, a different emotion is present...one that I know has no clout.  But, one that hits me every time a new little one draws near.  I begin to ache for my current baby, and somewhat for the siblings.

I want her to know that even with the life change that is about to happen, my love for her won't change.

I wish I could tell her in a way she would understand that I won't be able to pick her up for awhile.  I wish I could make it clear that even though there will be a new baby in the family (and constantly in my arms), that she (and her siblings) will always all be my babies.  I wish that I could both spend time soaking up the newness of life with the little one while also giving more attention to each individual Carter, Peter, John Paul, Sophie and Genevieve all at the very same time.

Each of these little ones comes, and in a split second our lives are changed in a way we could never imagine, regardless of how many times we've done it.  One look at the little face and tiny details, and we cannot imagine being a family without him or her.  And, all will be well.

For now, though, these sweet little ones are my babies...and if I spend a little more of each day trying to cradle them as if they were still an eight pound bundle of joy, just let me.  I need them to know that our lives are about to change and remind them that it only gets better.


Because while I worry that they won't realize how much I love them when my attention is focused on the new one, I'll be reminded that instead of diminishing love, God will only allow our hearts to grow.

Mid-Week Likes & Links...A Bit Late

This lotion.

These probiotics.

This book.

This tank.

These shorts.

This dress.

But my very favorite....this photo...

We are so very blessed and so very excited!  Welcome to our family, sweet baby six!  We will see you in January! 

For more on the ins and outs our of large(r) family, come back to this post here.  And, please keep us in your prayers!

Birth Story: Genevieve

On November 12^th, I had my 37 week appointment.  Since I live so far from the doctor, He told me to skip the 36 week appointment, and he’d see my at 37 weeks.  So, at that appointment, we did a growth scan to determine what we might be looking at in terms of the size of the baby.  During that scan, everything with the baby turned out great, but my fluid levels were high.  I remember the fluid levels being a bit high with Sophie at some point in my pregnancy with her, but it never seemed to greatly concern my previous doctor.  Well, my new doctor seemed a bit more concerned than my old doctor had been.  He said that those levels could mean nothing OR they could pose a few risks…infection or the cord delivering before the baby and cutting off the oxygen supply.  He wanted to check back in a week and decide what to do from there.

So, five days later we had another appointment scheduled.  The day before, a blizzard hit.  So, we got everything packed and ready, in the event that we’d have to deliver early, and braved the icy roads with everyone in order to get to Amarillo.  They closed the roads behind us, if that tells you anything about their condition.  It turns out it was a good thing we made it to Amarillo.  In five days, my fluid levels went from 25 to 32.  I became a bit more worried than I had been before, and let Dr. Hopkins know that I was afraid to go into labor at home, two hours away, in the event that one of those risks came to fruition.  He was concerned, too, and scheduled the induction for the next day, Thursday, November 19^th.

We stayed the night with Jeremy’s parents and were at the hospital the next morning by 7 to start things.  I started at a two and probably about 40% effaced, being a week earlier than my previous inductions.  But, since I had been at nothing when I was induced with Carter, I didn’t think it would make much difference.  It always is a bit tough to get things going because I’m really hard to get an IV in.  Luckily this time it only took three tries, as opposed to the seven or eight typically.  It’s always the worst part.  Then, right away, the doctor broke my water, forcing the baby down as he did in order to insure the head would come before the cord.  Once that was done, I started the Pitocin and waited.

And, I waited.

By noon, the contractions were getting a bit painful but not bad.  By 12:30, I was at a five.  Knowing my past history (when I get to a 6, the baby has always been here within thirty minutes), I decided to get the epidural before it was too late.  Little did I know, I had plenty of time.

The epidural didn’t go quite like it had in previous years either.  I’m not sure the doctor waited long enough for the numbing shot to take effect, but I could feel every part of it, as he threaded it and all…kind of gives me the chills to think about again.  Then, it kicked in, heavily and quickly, and my already super low blood pressure dropped, and I almost passed out.  Instead, I just felt nauseated for the remainder of labor.

I thought things would pick up quickly.  But, I was wrong.

I bet I sat at a five for another three to four hours.  To add to the no progress, the baby was having trouble.  I could only be in one position to keep the baby’s heart rate up, and that position was sitting straight up. 

After watching the baby’s heart rate drop with every contraction, the nurses came in to check me.

Still a five.

They said they’d give it another hour, with an internal contraction monitor, and then they might have to think about going another route – cesarean.  If it was the only way to keep us both safe, I would have done it.  But, I didn’t want to.

An hour later, I was at a seven, and things picked up!  But, there was one problem.  The right side of my cervix had quit thinning.

I was quickly at a ten, but the cervix wasn’t completely thinned on that right side still, and the baby’s heart rate was dropping – plus they put me on oxygen.  The doctor came in to see what happened during a contraction but then quickly changed his mind saying we just had to get the baby out. 

I was scared.  I didn’t know what was going on.  And, while it could have been so much worse than it was, I started worrying.  Why had this labor (my fifth!) gone so differently/taken longer?  Why wasn’t everything just falling into place?  Was this little one okay?

I pushed and the head came with the cord wrapped around the baby’s neck.  So the doctor quickly pulled the cord around the baby’s head, and helped pull the baby out with the next contraction to get her breathing.  She was bruised up a bit, and it was a very quick and forceful delivery, but she was finally here and safe. 

Sadly, I was so caught up in what might be happening and worried that she might not be okay, that I don’t think I was able to fully be present for the gender surprise!  We had another little girl…a sister that I longer for for Sophie!! 

In those moments, when the doctor/nurses put that baby safely in your arms, the flood of emotions is indescribable, and at the top of my list that day was gratitude for a doctor who knew enough to induce early and help get her out quickly and safely. 

It won’t matter how many times I give birth, each time I’m overwhelmed by the amount of love I have for that tiny baby completely dependent upon us. 

Welcome to the world, Genevieve Mary Rose!

(in almost all of her ultrasound pics, she was just like this)

*Jeremy and John Paul were very present, but Jeremy was behind the camera, and John Paul was all over the place, so hopefully I'll be able to update with more photos once I see what is on my mom's camera!

Anyone Want to Guess?

I've heard it all.  I've heard it's a boy because I'm "carrying high."  I've heard it's a girl because I'm "carrying high."

My pregnancy this time around has been most like Sophie's.  I got sicker, but the sickness ended earlier on.  I've gained more weight.  However, I don't know if the last two are so similar because this one is a little girl OR if it's because as I age and have more babies, my pregnancies are simply changing.

Here's a look at me at around 35/36 weeks with John Paul (a bit hard to see where the bump ends)...

Here I am at 36ish weeks with Sophie...

And, with baby number 5...

So, tell me, what's your guess?  Is it a boy or a girl?

Thanksgiving

When Kelsey asked me to guest post on her blog last month (here), I wrote about a topic very dear to my heart.  Little did I know that God was probably trying to tell me something.

A few weeks earlier, during breakfast, Carter had asked me if I was excited about the baby that was going to be in my tummy.  He was, he said.

The day after Kelsey's post went up, on the Feast of The Seven Sorrows of Mary, again at breakfast, I told the kids how much I loved them.  Then Peter said, "And the baby, too!"

Later that day, I discovered that these little ones know much more than me...they're much less removed from Heaven, I like to think.  And, their joy...their ability to see God in every last detail...teaches me.

So, yes, right around Thanksgiving of this year, we'll be adding

God-willing.

We're thrilled!  This baby was fervently prayed for.  And, while I know another baby will add to our already somewhat crazy days, the love and joy that comes with it will always win.  The knowing that God is entrusting us with another miracle, another one of His precious souls, in order to fulfill our vocations.  The opportunity to deepen our love yet again, for this precious baby, and for Him.

I've mentioned before that others don't always share our joy when they hear of our growing family, and I'm learning to get past that.  I find it really special, though, that we found out about this little one of the Feast of The Seven Sorrows of Mary.  Mary endured such confusion, ridicule, doubt and eventually pain in order to fulfill God's will.  Yet, she said yes, always.  A few unloving comments and misunderstandings are nothing (nothing!) compared to that.  Her example is a light for me, each and every day.

He is giving us another tiny baby, and He will equip us for our journey here...inasmuch as we do our best to get them back to Him.

Yes, Carter, Im excited!  Just as much as I was when I found out we were having you!


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, if you have questions or would like to know why we are having another, grab yourself a cup of coffee, pull up a chair, and take a glimpse into the heart of our family.

We believe in being open to life.  That's the simple answer.

We believe in what the Church teaches about contraception and about the importance of never severing the pleasurable and procreative aspects of the sexual act (read this too if you want to see what Pope Paul VI predicted about the consequences of the widespread acceptance of contraception).

Do we throw caution to the wind and just allow whatever may happen to happen?  No.  Actually, we spend a lot of time in prayer before coming to a decision to see if having another child is the most responsible thing to do.  We pray.  We talk with our priest.  We determine if we have the mental and physical capacity to bring another child into the world.  And, as a priest told us before, we ask ourselves if we can financially care for another...meaning, can we feed another?  Can we shelter another?  Can we love another?  The answer has always been yes.

Jeremy and I love children.  More specifically, we love our children.  Will you see us losing our minds and all patience at times?  Of course!  Will it always feel like we have everything under control?  Rarely.  Do we get strange looks?  Yes.  Do I worry if other people think I am irresponsible?  Many days.  Do I sometimes long for moments when I'm not being talked to, touched, or needed? More often than I should, I'm afraid to say.

However, right now, we have no reason to not have another child unless that's simply not God's will. And you know what?  We pray and pray for a new baby, and the excitement that comes in seeing a positive test is overwhelming.  But, then, fear can invade.  Sometimes we don't know how we can handle it. Sometimes I remember how badly my anxiety kicks in after another baby comes and how my mental health can take a nose dive in a hurry if I don't take care of it. Sometimes I just don't know that I will be able to respond to another person's not-so-nice comment without crying.

But, then I realize what is happening.  I realize this is one way in which God can completely get my attention.  I care too much what others think of me.  I've always done things and done them well or not at all (not bragging, just letting you in on my personality).  I do not like to fail.  I am a lover of control...self-control.  And honestly, I find myself often only going to God when I have it all together (even then, I'm just fooling myself).

And, in giving us another child, I hear God whisper, "Come to me."  My life is not my own, and with each little baby we are blessed with, I realize it on a deeper level.  I let a little bit more of what others think go.  I acknowledge my desire for perfection and accept just a bit more imperfection.  I give up tiny pieces of control bit by bit, knowing that true peace only comes from giving it all to Him.  It is His will, and with our "yes" to Him, He will provide.

As my stomach was in knots before we decided to go ahead and share the news, Carter came in from outside with a flower in his hand.  Not knowing we were having another baby, he handed it to me and said, "Every flower is a sign from God, Momma." Yes, yes it is.

So, if I were sitting across from you today at Starbucks and was asked to bare my soul, I would tell you this: we love life, in all stages.  We don't know that we will always have a healthy baby.  We don't know if number five is our last.  We might start driving a big van.  We might even homeschool this crew.  You might think I'm crazy.  You might think we are weird.  Maybe you cannot understand why it isn't "enough already."

I can accept that you may never understand where we are coming from.  But, my prayer is that someday you do in every sense.  And, maybe you will not have five children.  Or, maybe deep down you would love that but can't for some reason.  But, what I will say is this...we will always be open to life.  We will always pray about the decision to have another child.  So, in a few years, if number five turns out to not be our last, maybe you can come back here when you're internally questioning why.

As much as I may try to convince you that there is no greater joy than knowing that God is using you as a vessel...as much as I try desperately to convey to you the joy in my soul at the awareness that there is a baby inside...as much as I may want you to know that being open to life is so incredibly freeing...as much as I desperately want to say all of that with a smile on my face serving as a sign of my inward joy, sometimes I don't.  Sometimes it's just easier to be silent and to wish the questions away.  And I'm sorry for that, because you're missing out when I hold back.

Today, though, you get that joy -- right here.

We are having a baby!  He gives us these little souls to make saints of, but truly, they're making saints of us, and what a difficult job they have.  We've just said yes to God, and we know He will handle everything from here.  I pray you know that, too.

The Birth of Sophie

Once again, our child’s birthday was set.  No waiting until she came on her own.  Being two hours from the hospital and never having an extremely long labor, our doctor has always suggested inducing at 39 weeks.  Being somewhat of a planner, this has always been great with me.  I know I miss out on starting labor naturally, and I've never known what it feels like to be more than 1 day past the 39-week mark.  However, it works for us, and we were definitely ready to meet our little girl!

So, the night before, we went to Amarillo and stayed with Jeremy’s parents.  In the past, we’ve gone out for dinner and a movie while the kids stay with Mimi and Pops.  This year, I think we were just a little too tired.  We had a fun dinner with everyone and then watched a movie at home (Non-Stop with Liam Neeson…wouldn't recommend).  We slept as well as we could (aka no sleep) and were at the hospital ready to go at 7 am. 

Having pre-registered, there wasn't a ton of paperwork left to fill out, so the nurses got started right away.  Five minutes in they hit a roadblock.  My veins were not cooperating for the IV (story of my life), so forty-five minutes, two different nurses and about five sticks later, they finally got it in and set for the day.  That was probably the worst of it all – honestly it makes me a bit queasy to think of my veins just “rolling around in there,” so the worst part was out of the way.

I began the process at almost 3 cm and about 60% effaced.  Around 8:30, the doctor arrived and broke my water.  Then things started rolling.  Pitocin kicked in as did the contractions.  Then after about 1.5 hours, they just tapered off to almost nothing.  That had never happened before.  So, I called the nurse to see what was wrong and she said I just needed to change positions.  I didn't know that bed could be made to look like a chair, but obviously it can, and boy did that speed things along.  After about two hours, I couldn't take it anymore and asked for the epidural.  There were a few people in line ahead of me, I was told, so thank goodness I asked when I did, because when the anesthesiologist finally arrived, I was more than ready.  You know how I said the IV process makes me queasy?  Well, imagine how much more fun it is to listen to your anesthesiologist explain the entire process of the epidural step-by-step for a good half hour.  Not fun.

For some reason part of the epidural didn't take.  For the most part, I was in Heaven.  But there was one tiny problem area, and it wasn't exactly the best spot to have a problem area when getting ready to give birth.  After a bit, I wasn't progressing like I had hoped…between 4-5 cm right before the epidural.  However, I knew when I hit a 6 (if anything like all of the other births), it would just be about 30 minutes until I was holding my baby.  Well, they put me in a new position to further speed things along.  It was called the fire house?  I think?  Something with “fire” in it, and as my nurse left, I reminded her that once I was a 6, it wouldn't be long. 

She came in after an hour, moved me back to my back and said I was a little over 5 cm and she’d be back in an hour and a half.  I thought that was too long for her to wait, and I didn't think that I’d be able to feel when I needed to push.  That spot that didn't really get numb suddenly became very painful.  So painful after 20 minutes that I felt I didn't even have an epidural (minus my legs feelings about two tons apiece).  So, I pushed the nurse button one more time.  I asked her to check me.  She quickly laid me down and said to not do anything, and that the doctor would be right over.  Needless to say, Sophie was ready to come.  As soon as the doctor got there, I pushed twice, and our little baby girl was out and screaming at 3:03 pm…for 45 minutes.  She weighed 8 lbs, 7 oz and was 20.5 inches long!  Bigger than each of her brothers by a couple of ounces, with a head as full of hair as any of ours have, been, she captured our hearts instantly. 

And, just like that, we fell in love all over again.  

Within the hour, the boys came to meet her.  She wasn't cleaned up very well.  Towards the end of the video, notice Carter's response when he sees her.  To his credit, she was pretty messy and according to him "smelly."  However, he's regretted saying what he did ever since (he's a worrier).

And, recently home, here's John Paul and a tiny snippet of his every day.

We love, love, love being new parents again!  Welcome to the world Miss Sophie Therese!