{Hartlie Anne} A Birth Story

Writing about a birth is a heavy thing. Mainly because it takes me so long to process through everything that encompasses bringing a tiny, brand new human into the world. There's so much to think through, so many emotions to categorize, a lot of physical pain from which to heal, a new household and familial routine to implement, and the inevitable writer's block that sleep deprivation induces.

It only took me eleven months to write about my experience birthing Maylin, and by that time Hartlie was almost here herself. One thing I'm learning in mothering this second child is that I'm able to emotionally recover sooner, better.  I was barely {okay, hardly at all, let's be real} over Maylin's birth when we discovered we were pregnant with Hartlie, and I'm afraid to admit it took me more than a few weeks to accept the new life growing inside me. It was difficult to cope with that reality.

Now, though, only four months after delivering Hartlie, I was able to not just start, but finish writing about her birth. This is huge progress, people! Writing in itself has always been therapuetic to me, so part of working through my emotions and memories requires this written rendering of our story.

I issued a disclaimer before jumping into Maylin's birth story, and I'll warn you again. Stories about childbirth tend to be pretty graphic, so if you're not into that sort of thing or are easily grossed out, just click away. No hurt feelings here.

Hartlie's due date was Monday, June 2, and after six weeks of walking an hour a day {sometimes twice, my neighbor called me out on doing "two a days"} at 1 cm dilated and no signs of baby, we chose to induce on Tuesday, June 3. The whole pregnancy I was convinced {due to some descrepancy with Hartlie's due date which is a very long and boring story} that Hartlie would be born early. By at least a week. I had consistent Braxton Hicks contractions from 20 weeks along, and by 36 weeks I had dilated 1 cm. "Hartlie is soooo coming early. A May-Baby. How sweet!" Nope, nope, and no. When I went to my appointment on my due date and I was still only at 1 cm, we decided, with the support of my doctor whom we trust and respect explicitly, to induce the following day. 

We arrived at the hospital at daybreak to get settled in a room and prepped for labor. I actually don't mind this part because it is somewhat soothing to watch the nurses prepare the room and set up the monitors. They have a calm efficiency that sort of pervades the atmosphere and puts me at ease. Like even though I'm an anxious ball of nerves whose heart is fluttering wildly and have no idea what I'm doing even though this is my second birth, at least the nurses do. They do. They know everything and are never nervous or unsure ever and you can not convince me otherwise or else I'll never have another child again. Because birth is scary. Even in today's modern world with our conveniences and medical advcances, childbirth is scary. Beautiful and exhilarating and empowering and one of the best experiences in human existence, but still scary. Also, I'm thankful to have birthed my children in America. I don't know how mothers in third world countries do it. I just don't. Anyway...

Our most beloved and favorite {I can have a favorite, right?} nurse from Maylin's birth with whom we've kept in touch over the past year no longer works in labor and delivery. BUT{!} since she has a bit of freedom with her new position and since her father-in-law is our doctor, she was able to be our nurse for Hartlie's delivery. Another positive for deciding to induce- she was able to plan to be there. When you spend hours with a person who is intimately involved in one of your most life-changing experiences, a bond is formed that's difficult to explain. I can't say enough how much we adore and trust her, and we are so thankful she was able to attend Hartlie's birth.

At 8:15 AM, after prepping everything and putting monitors in place, our nurse checked me. I was at 2 cm. Apparently I'd dilated another centimeter overnight. I was very encouraged by this because that meant my body had already arrived a little early to the party that was delivery day. Better early than late or never in this case. All systems were a go and I was relieved that my body "remembered" how to go into labor. {That my body might forget to go into labor has always been an irrational pregnancy fear of mine.} Our nurse went ahead and started the Pitocin drip, and Michael and I sat back to respond to texts and idly watch the contractions on the computer screen. Or so I thought. But oh, not such the case this time.  I started feeling contractions much sooner and much stronger than I did with Maylin. Which was good! I was glad my body was responding so readily and so well. I soon put my phone away and sat thoughtfully and prayed and "listened" to my body.

At 9:00 AM, my doctor came in to check on my progress and to break my water, which may be one of my least favorite parts of childbirth, and that's even including the contractions. It's just real uncomfortable, and I'll leave it at that. My contractions continued to strengthen and after about another 45 minutes I was having to concentrate and breathe through them, no longer able to participate in conversation with Michael or my nurse during a contraction.

At 10:30 AM, the contractions were painful, not just pinches of pain, but waves of rolling pain that I couldn't silently endure. They were regular and fast with not much recouperating time in between. My nurse checked me. I was at 4 cm and decided to order the epidural.

From this point, things are a little hazy to me due to concentrating so much on riding out each contraction. I know the contractions hurt. I know they were fast. I know that an entire bag of fluid was required to drip into me before I could get the epidural. I know Michael held my hand and was encouraging. That's about it. It was during this time that my nurse decided to turn off the Pitocin drip until after the epidural was administered to give my body a little break. My body had other plans...

Surprisingly, my labor didn't stop, or even slow down. It's like the Pitocin was the kickstart that my body needed to get labor started, and it completely took over from there. The Pitocin stayed off for good for the rest of my labor and delivery. Therefore, I didn't get that little "break" before the epidural was given. Unfortunately.

At 11:15 the anethesiologist arrived to give me the epidural. Mentally, I knew I only had to ride out the pain of contractions until the epidural, so I kept eyeing that fluid bag and doled out my measure of strength until I saw that man in the green scrubs wheel his little cart in my room. Relief would soon be mine, I was sure of it. Yet again, surprise, surprise.

The anesthesiologist explained the procedure while my nurse sat me up on the edge of the bed to get in position for him to insert the needle into my back. I barely remember any of this because the contractions were so forceful, and sitting up to lean over the side of the bed made them stronger. Much stronger. The epidural has to be administered during the peak of a contraction. I remembered from Maylin's birth that the pain of getting the epidural was inconsequential because it was dwarfed by the contraction, so I expected that to be the case this time, too. However, I knew the moment he stuck the needle in my spine, and I knew immediately that something was wrong. My right leg gave a violent, involuntary kick, like it had been hit by that little hammer on the kneecap, and a shocking jolt went through the right side of my body, almost electrifying. I must've cried out or said something, or maybe our nurse did, because the needle was pulled out leaving only the sensation of a contraction. The anesthesiologist apologized, said something about "missing the spot" and being a little "too far to the right." {Ya think??} He would have to start the whole procedure over. We had to wait until the next contraction, and this time, thank goodness, there wasn't an issue. I was told to lie back flat so the epidural could work its way to the lower half of my body, which would take several minutes.

As soon as I lay back, I felt tremendous pressure, like the biggest contraction I'd had yet, and it didn't go away. I breathlessly told my nurse that I didn't think the epidural was working, I could feel so much pressure. "You mean, you feel like you have to push?" she asked. "I don't know!" I almost yelled at her. I realize this is my second time to give birth, but I still felt pretty clueless. She quickly decided to check me, and I could tell by the sensation and the look on her face that, yes, it was indeed time to push. She looked at me and said quite calmly {to her credit}, "You're complete. Time to push. We're about to have a baby." 

It was 11:40. I'd dilated 6 centimeters in the space of an hour. With no pitocin. While getting an epidural.

At this point, to say I freaked out would be putting it mildly. Panic is more the correct term. Mentally, I absolutely was not prepared to be at the delivery stage of labor so soon. I had expected at least another couple of hours after the epidural was given, especially since usually labor is slowed by an epidural. I expected a couple hours of slight sensation from contractions while catching my breath. I expected to be energized and perky with renewed vigor. And nope. That wasn't happening at this point.

It was time to push, and the epidural hadn't kicked in yet. In addition, my nurse explained very calmly during the waves of pain, it was highly unlikely that the epidural would have time to work before delivery, especially due to the fact I'd be sitting upright in pushing position instead of lying flat, which is needed for the epidural to spread to the lower half of the body. I immediately wanted to cry, not from excitement that we were about to meet our baby {like I did with Maylin}, or even from the pain, but because I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to get through the pain to push the baby out. "I'm not sure I can do this! This hurts so bad!" was all I could say over and over. 

Y'all. It hurt. I can't reitterate that enough. I've read numerous accounts from women claiming childbirth for them was "a spiritural experience," with dark rooms and soft music and lots of meditation and suddenly they have a baby and they're not even sure if the contractions were painful because they were "in the zone." Ha, ha, ha, ha, HA! So NOT the case! I'm lucky my nurse and Michael were there to calm me down because literally I was in way over my head with the whole pain management and breathing thing. I had carefully mentally measured out my strength until the epidural came, and when it didn't have time to work, it's like I'd used all the strength I'd mentally prepared to use. I didn't think I had anymore. Cue wide-eyed, breathless panic.

Meanwhile, while I was panicking, the room was transforming from a calm, quiet, labor room into a fully functional delivery room, complete with scurrying nurses, beaming spotlights, tables of instruments, and a nursery nurse standing in the corner with her little cart waiting to bathe and weigh the baby. My doctor was paged. My legs were put into stirrups. My bed was raised. Pain or not, it was go-time.

My nurse was right in my face the whole time, breathing with me through each contraction, helping me get into a rhythm. After a few contractions the pain was manageable, but I was still doubtful I could push through it. My nurse ordered a bolster {I think I'm remembering that word correctly}, basically a local numbing anesthetic administered to a specific area, which would work quickly to numb the, ahem, "lady parts" in preparation for pushing. I've found that it helps me during delivery to see my progress, so I had a mirror brought into the room. And just like that, in a matter of minutes, my nurse was counting 10, 9, 8, 7.... and I was bearing down with all my leftover strength, pushing through the contraction, breathing out long and steadily, gripping the bars on the bed, and locking eyes with my man for extra support. I remember when I birthed Maylin my doctor's calm, low voice telling me to pushpushpushpushpush. He didn't have to say a word with Hartlie. She was coming whether I was pushing or not.

It's not every day you get to see something come from nothing, watch an empty void be filled with living, breathing, screaming life. A life that started as a whispered "what if..." between my man and me, that was created by the both of us and grew inside my body.  It's not every day you witness the fulfillment of a long awaited dream, the embodiment of an idea, a hope that was talked about, planned for, prayed over become a reality. I watched the crown of Hartlie's head appear, and nothing in all the world was so precious, so right, so perfect. Then, due to strength that barely registered in my mind, she was in the arms of my doctor, a dream become reality, a thought turned human.

When Hartlie came out, it's as if my entire world telescoped to that tiny baby girl. I heard nothing but the sound of her. I saw nothing but the color of her. Silent, wide-eyed, and purple. And a rock hit my stomach.

A million questions at once, "Is she okay?" 

"What's wrong with her?" 

"Why isn't she crying?" 

"Is she okay?" 

"Is she breathing?" 

"Why is she purple?" 

"Is she okay?

My doctor, so fast I barely registered what he was doing, suctioned mucus from her mouth and nose, rubbed her tiny back.

And then she cried.

And then I cried.

And then I held her, slick with fluid and blood, warm and writhing and wailing, right up against my chest as if I'd never let her go.

12:03 PM, June 3, 2014, my heart expanded to twice its size, letting in another soul to be knit to mine. Another, "Oh, hello, it's you; I've been waiting" moment of meeting.

Reluctantly, I gave her over to the nurse to have her Apgar score checked, not taking my eyes off her for a second, relishing in the sound of her teeny newborn cries. 6 pounds, 15 ounces, 19 1/2 inches, and badly bruised due to such a quick descent through the birth canal, bruising made worse due to traveling most of the birth canal while I was sitting up, leaning forward to get the epidural. Which was kicking in nicely now that the delivery was over. Fancy that.

And suddenly, where once were three, there are now four. Another life is wrapped up so tightly in mine that I can't tell where one ends and the other begins. It's as if I've flecked off portions of my heart, segments of my soul, watched as they've been given breath and form, and set them loose to flutter around outside my body, where they will at times be oblivious to me, but I never oblivious to them.

"Children are a gift of The Lord..." Psalm 127:3 

I couldn't be more convinced.

Meet Hartlie

Hartlie Anne Davis

6 lbs 15 oz

19 1/2 inches long

Born at 12:03 PM

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Full birth story to come, but for now we are resting and soaking in every detail of this short-lived newborn phase. Sweet Hartlie, welcome to our family.

{Miss Maylin} A Birth Story

This post has been a long time coming, that's for sure. Maylin will be one in less than two weeks {um, what}. Yes, ONE year old. Holy goodness, but where has this year gone? It's passed waaaay faster than any other year of my life, and the nine {but really ten if you count the weeks} months I was pregnant with her drug by compared to the nine/ten months I spent with her after she was born. I'm not sure what this says about how quickly Hartlie's first nine months of life will be...pretty freaked out about that.

 I've been going through "old" pictures of Maylin while putting together a 12 month birthday banner for her party and I've also been gathering pictures to make a photo book of her first year. Additionally I've promised myself that I would complete her first year baby book {not sure why I feel so compelled to have a photo book and a baby book, but I do, and I'm sorry in advance to my future children who will probably luck out to get a few photos snapped of them at all...} before Hartlie comes so I won't be distracted by all that newborn baby smell and completely forget to finish it. Because that would be a travesty. Naturally.

So. This all has had me going back through the trusty archives of my iphone camera roll and pulling out the best pictures of Maylin's first year of life to send to Shutterfly and Walgreens respectively. I'm feeling nostalgic to say the least {did I mention that already? No? Prepare to read it more than once}.  It occured to me months ago that I've never put Maylin's birth story to virtual paper, and that I'd better do it before getting her birth experience all muddled in my mind with Hartlie's. I've never sat down to do it, because quite frankly I know it will take a large chunk of my time, and secondly because I know reminiscing about it will make me feel sadly nostalgic. But I figure 'tis the season, now, so why not? 

If you aren't into birth stories, or think they all read the same, or are too queasy about squeamish things, or just don't have the extra 15 minutes of time to read what is already shaping up to be a lengthy post, just stop scrolling now. I promise to do my best not to indulge any details that are too personal or explicit or just too much. Although this is a blog that's thus far been mainly about motherhood and pregnancy so a little bit of graphic info is bound to pop up. You've been warned.

 A whole year later and I'm not quite sure where to begin. This is partly the reason why I've procrastinated writing this post. Won't do that when Hartlie is born. There are so many things I will do differently the second time around with Hartlie, as I've learned so much with Maylin. But I digress.

I was induced to give birth to Maylin on March 28,  four days before her due date. Michael and I made the decision to be induced early based on several factors. 1} My doctor, whose years of experience we both deeply trust and respect, was going to be out of town the week of my due date and wouldn't have been on call to deliver Maylin if she arrived within the 7 day time frame he was gone. 2} Michael and I both desperately wanted my doctor, the one who had cared for us the entire pregnancy and knew me and my case, to be the doctor to deliver Maylin. We weren't comfortable having an on-call doctor who we didn't know and who wasn't familiar with me "catch the baby." 3} When my doctor checked my progress during my 39th week of pregnancy, I was already dilated to 1 cm and effaced 50%. We felt these were good indicators that I was "ready" to go into labor and that induction wouldn't be forcing my body to do something it hadn't already started on its own. 4} My doctor had been completely up front with us throughout my pregnancy of his absence the week of my due date, and induction was a topic that was discussed repeatedly. This did not come as a shock to Michael and me, nor were we pressured into a situation we weren't comfortable with.

I feel the need to explain all this because I know more and more people are leaning toward a more natural form of childbirth these days. It's a hot trend, and I've extensively read many books, articles, and personal blogs highlighting the pros and cons of both medicated, hospital births and natural home births. While having an unmedicated birth has always been on my "bucket list," it was not the case for us with Maylin, and I am okay with that. We made the right choice for our situation.

We saw my doctor on a Tuesday, exactly a week before my due date. After the examination, my doctor sat back and leveled his gaze and Michael and me. "Want to have a baby on Thursday?" he asked. I remember the intense feeling of shock, excitement, and nervousness that swept over me like a tidal wave, and apparently it felt the same for Michael because we looked at each other with the same wide-eyed expression on our faces. After regaining our composure and having a detailed conversation with each other in private, and then again with our doctor, we decided to proceed with the induction. We left the hospital in a state of anxious euphoria, a feeling that repeated itself many times over the next week.

We went on an impromptu date to a nice restaurant in a nearby city that night, knowing it would be our last for a very long time. I will never forget the feeling of sitting at our candlelight dinner KNOWING that our baby, our long-awaited little girl, would be arriving in less than 48 hours. It was surreal in the truest sense of the word. I don't think I've ever felt quite that way in my life, before or since. I spent the next day completing my packing of my hospital bag, gathering the last of Maylin's things, straightening an already pristine nursery, getting last minute advice from my friend that had her first baby merely 10 days before, and emailing my cousin {who is a labor and delivery nurse} about what to expect once we got to the hospital. I'm not sure how Michael or I actually fell asleep that night...

We were instructed to be at the hospital at 6:00 AM Thursday, March 28, and we walked through the darkened parking lot and were there, checking in, at exactly 5:55. {Overly excited? Only a little.} I was set up in a room by the sweetest, kindest, most personable nurses you could ever meet, which is saying something considering these were the night nurses who had already worked a full shift. In fact, before I continue I really must comment on the nurses who cared for us during our labor, delivery, and hospital stay. They are angels. Literal angels, I tell you. I've never been more impressed by a group of human beings in my whole life. I felt like they cared for me personally, as if I were the only woman on the floor giving birth that day, which I most decidedly was not. I still remember the names of the nurses who cared for me. I'm not exaggerating, I truly do {Susan, Ashley, Nancy, Christy. See?}. I know I wouldn't have made it through labor, delivery, and those first two nights trying to breastfeed a newborn without them. 

After registering, getting into the hospital gown, donning a blood pressure cuff, IV, and heart monitor for Maylin, I started receiving a Pitocin drip at about 7:30 AM. For the first hour, I felt nothing, not the slightest contraction or discomfort. I could see my contractions on the monitor set up by the bed, but they were so faint that I couldn't feel them. During this time, Michael and I relaxed, answered texts from well-wishers, and in general just stared at each other with goofy grins on our faces {which were soon to be erased by labor...Oh what newbs we were}. One thing I enjoyed was hearing Maylin's heart beat on the monitor. It was really neat and strangely comforting to hear her heart beating its steady staccato throughout the room.

My and Michael's parents came in to visit for a few minutes, but I really wanted the delivery room to be private, so they didn't stay long. By 9:30 my contractions were stronger, enough that I had to concentrate to relax, and I had dilated to 2 cm. I remember my nurse saying she could feel Maylin's head when she checked me, which I found incredible because I had no idea babies got that low in the birth canal before the pushing phase of labor started. There were lots of things I learned that day. Michael too. We were both very educated by the end of the day.

My nurse increased the Pitocin drip every 30 minutes, so my contractions got increasingly stronger and closer together. At 10:30 I was dilated 3 cm, and my nurse broke my water. I have to note this was the strangest, most disconcerting, and embarrassing sensation I've ever felt. There's really no way to describe it other than you feel as if you're uncontrollably using the bathroom on yourself. I was also surprised and shocked at how much water came out in that initial flow. Like, so much water. This continued with every contraction I had, as if my body were really working to get everything baby related OUT {quickly, please and thank you}. 

It was at this point my contractions really increased in difficulty and the pain level shot up. I also started dilating very quickly after this. By 11:00 I'd dilated to 4 cm. The most comfortable position for me was on my hands and knees with my belly swaying toward the floor, but my nurse didn't like that position very much and in no uncertain terms told me to lie back down on the bed. {This is really the only complaint I have with my labor/delivery experience in the hospital; I really wish I could've labored in the position that was most comfortable for me rather than having to lie on the bed.} I ended up lying on my side, eating ice chips and squeezing M's hand during each contraction. By 11:30 the contractions were pretty intense, and I'd dilated to almost 5 cm.

At 12:00 I decided to get an epidural. I'd waited it out as long as I could considering I was on the Pitocin drip. I have high aspirations of one day going all the way with no pain meds, but Pitocin is pretty brutal, so I'll save that for a time when I'm not induced. The epidural was pretty uneventful. I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned into Michael and my nurse while the anesthesiologist applied the medication. I could still feel the contractions, even after the epidural, which I was thankful for because I wanted to have an active role in my labor rather than just letting medicine do all the work. They weren't nearly as painful,  just persistent.

The most difficult and instense time of labor for me was between 6 and 9 cm. During this time my blood pressure kept dropping, leaving me nauseated and light-headed. I kept my hospital bed elevated so that I was sitting almost straight up and down. This was the only position comfortable enough for me. Every time I tried to lie back, my blood pressure dropped even lower. I also experienced severe shaking and chills, which I've read is common for the transition stage because the body is progressing very fast and very significantly. Maylin's heart rate also dropped during this time, not to a rate that was alarming to our nurse, but we monitored it carefully for the remainder of labor. Much of this time period is a blur to me, mainly because I didn't feel as good as during the early part of labor. 

My body regulated to dilating about a centimeter an hour after getting the epidural. By 3:00 PM I was at 9 cm, and at 3:30 I'd reached 10 cm. When my nurse checked me the last time, she got a little smile on her face, looked at me, and said, "Are you ready to meet your baby?" From that point on I was holding back tears as stubbornly as I could because I didn't want my emotions to rob me of the strength to push. In reality, all I wanted to do was curl up in a little ball and cry my eyes out over relief of the whole ordeal being over and Maylin being in my arms. But I knew if I wanted to push Maylin out myself and not end up on the operating table I had to hold it together and concentrate all of my energy on pushing. 

My nurse pressed a little button on the wall and my room became a flurry of immediate activity as they readied the space for delivery. A nursery nurse wheeled a portable station into the room so she could test Maylin's Apgar score and clean her right there in the room with me. Another nurse brought in what looked to me a surgical table on wheels with all sorts of medical instruments laid out on top. My nurse called my doctor {who had been checking on me periodically throughout the day}, and began to "suit up" for the delivery. What this means is she pretty much dressed herself for full out surgery, or that's what it looked like to me. Surgical gown, surgical cap, surgical gloves, surgical mask, then bada-bing, bada-bang, my feet were in stirrups, my bed was wheeled under spotlights that magically appeared from the ceiling, and she was sitting between my legs telling me to push. 

At this point, it was impossible for me not to push, my body was so ready for Maylin to come out. I waited for each contraction, gripped the bed railing with all my strength, and pushed. It wasn't too taxing at first becasue of the adrenaline surge that was cued by the words "are you ready to meet your baby." But after a while it was exhausting. My doctor came in soon after to take over the delivery and my nurse moved to my side. Michael hovered between holding my hand and leaning over my head to standing down by the doctor so he could witness the birth. I asked for a mirror so I could see the progress of Maylin down the birth canal. It also helped me time my pushes with the contractions. And, let's be honest, I didn't want to miss out on the miracle of watching Maylin enter our world, especially if Michael was getting to see it. I wanted to see it too. 

My nurse was so encouraging during this time. Between contractions she would stare me in the eyes and firmly tell me what a good job I was doing, that I was strong, that the baby was going to be here any minute, "Here comes the next contraction, are you ready? okay PUSH, 10, 9, 8, Push Jana push, 6, 5, 4, almost there hang in there, 2, 1... okay relax. That was perfect, we're going to do it again just like that, you're doing so good at this..." and so forth. My strength really started to wane after about 20 minutes of pushing and once again I could feel the onslaught of tears right beneath the surface ready to take over. I glanced at Michael and started to say weakly, "I can't..." but before I could utter another syllable my nurse gripped me by the shoulders and said very firmly and confidently, "Yes you can. Yes you can Jana. You're doing it right now. We're going to get this baby out. You are strong. You are going to do this. Do not even think the word can't." I nodded obediently and shored up my tears once more, pushing them below the surface of my emotions and concentrated fully on each contraction so I could push with all my strength.

It became apparent after a while of pushing that Maylin was getting hung up in the birth canal. She was far enough down that we could see her head, but with every push she'd stop at the same spot, never coming any further. After some investigation, my doctor saw that she had her fist up next to her cheek, which was making it more difficult for her to proceed down the birth canal. This shouldn't have come as a surprise to me because she always had her fist near her face in ultrasound pictures. My doctor asked if we were opposed to using a vacuum. While I wasn't thrilled about the idea, I was even less thrilled about not being able to push Maylin out. We had very little time to consider this because the next contraction was right there.

Nurse: "It's time to push, let's go" {as if I needed to be told, pushing was uncontrollable at this point} PUSH 10, 9, 8, 7...

Doctor: pushpushpushpushpush {in a calming, low, persistent tone}

Michael: "You can do it, babe, she's right there, she's almost out, there's our Maylin right there, you're doing it"

All while I was bearing down with everything I had and my nurse pushed on the top of my stomach to give Maylin an extra umph to get out.

And suddenly, there she was. Maylin Sidney. Out of my body in my doctor's hands, covered in white mucus and a little bit of blood, screaming her lungs out and flailing her little arms. Relief, from the pressure of the contractions and the stress of pushing, was immediate. I could finally cry. And cry I did, hard and unstopping for the next hour. I cried as I watched Michael cut the umbilical cord. I cried when they laid her on top of me and I held her the first time. I cried as they cleaned her up and stitched me up. I was still crying when they gave her back to me in a clean blanket and tiny knit cap. Oh how I cried. I cried for relief; I cried for joy; I cried for thankfulness; I cried for exhaustion; I cried because my first pregnancy was over, and I cried because the pregnancy was OVER. The gamut of emotions ranged from one end of the spectrum to the other.

I cried because we made it, the three of us, the start of our little family. Our baby girl was here. The waiting was over. She was ours.

I'd always wondered how love for my children would begin. Would it gradually swell over time as I got to know my baby? Would it be immediate? Would I feel something or nothing when I first held her? I've heard it differs from person to person, but for me, my love for her was full and complete from the moment I saw her out of my body. Her face was familiar, her cry was recognizable. It was if I had known her in my subconscious all my life, and it was only now that I was remembering her. It felt a little like remembering a dream from the night before in perfect clarity during the day. An, "oh yeah, I remember now" moment. It felt as she had been with me all along.

There are moments in my life I can look back and say, "My life started there." When I believed in Jesus, for example. The night Michael told me he loved me. The day I said "I do" to living life with my man. Each phase seems like it's going to be the best one, that life is saturated with fullness and for it to get any better life would have to become a dream, a fantasy. At 4:29 PM on March 28, 2013, my life began again. It became more deeply hued with the colors of love, tenderness, thankfulness, smearing on top of colors that already existed, turning my life yet again into a masterpiece almost too beautiful to look at.

Even today, a year later, I get chills when I think about the day of Maylin's birth. The excitement, adrenaline, {small amount of} fear, anticipation, the sharing of a dream with Michael, and the mutual experience of birthing our first daughter. That day will never be forgotten. 

{Baby Davis #2} Dear Baby | 04

Dear Baby,

Your sister is napping. Your daddy is at work. You future best-friend-forever Deuce the dog is curled at my feet {you're going to love him; he's going to barely tolerate you- talk to your sis about this}. You are squirming and flipping and kicking, probably from that extra large cup of coffee I had this morning. So, what better time to take a break from my day to have a little chat?

As we saw at your anatomy scan, you are quite the mover. You're big enough now that I can see you kicking from the outside, and I can see the somersaults you're doing too because my belly will go into weird looking contortions that I desperately hope aren't noticeable to the dear people sitting next to us on the pew at church. They might be a bit disconcerted by seeing my belly move at random, and then I'd have to try to not look too embarrassed at being a distraction from the sermon. So, Baby, do ya think you could keep the moving to a minimum from, say, 11:00-12:00 noon on Sundays? I'd appreciate it if you worked on that. 

You're still liking grapefruit and mango the most out of any food. I am now buying grapefruit juice at the store, too, so on those occasions when you just HAVE to have grapefruit right that very instant but I'm kinda busy doing other things, all I have to do is pour a glass instead of segmenting out pieces of fruit with a spoon. Pretty handy. Another thing I'm {ahem, we're} liking lately is coffee. Which is a bit of a conundrum due to the fact I'm {we're} not really supposed to drink lots of caffein while we're cohabiting. I'm a little fuzzy on the details of why that's so, therefore I will continue to drink my large cup in the mornings and sometimes a smaller, but equally delicious, cup in the afternoons. I'm assuming you're thanking me for that when your movements increase to a frenzy. Right? Okay, good. At least it's just coffee and not something crazy like, say sushi or Feta cheese {both of which I love and can't wait to eat again}. I'm really considering this coffee craving a perk, no pun intended, because I WILL be drinking it after being up with you three and four times a night once you're born. And you'll be getting some anyway since we're going to breastfeed, so you might as well already be used to drinking it while in the womb.

Also, Baby, we're reaching the point that sleeping at night is a toss up. {And we're both in agreement that this couldn't possibly be due to the amount of coffee we're consuming, right? Right. Besides I don't drink it after 3:00 PM, so we're in the clear. Obviously.} I think this is due to the fact that pesky spot in my back between my shoulder blades is aching again {which you couldn't possibly have anything to do with}, and the fact I feel like all the blood in my body rushes to my head when I lie laterally, and that my mind works itself into a stressed out frenzy of things I need to do before you come as soon as my head hits the pillow. I think some people refer to the last one as "nesting." Ask your daddy about that. Some nights I get a long night of deep sleep. Other nights I toss and turn and pretty much force myself to stay in bed and not look at my nursery inspiration board on Pinterest. I will say, though, the body pillow we got for Christmas is our very best friend sent from heaven and we looooooove it. 

Your daddy is saying more and more often these days, "Babe, I love your belly." Which in my mind is a clue that you're looking more and more like a baby and less and less like I've eaten a few too many Oreos and milk. Which really is debatable considering you also love Oreos and milk. Like really love them. Every night. I do feel like one day late last week I woke up {from a great night's sleep, I'm sure} and suddenly there was a basketball sized baby bump where there hadn't been one the day before. That was the day I cracked open my Wild Carrot Growing Belly Balm and Stretch Salve and started applying liberally. Your sis cooperated with me and didn't give me any stretch marks, so do you think you could oblige that one small request, too? I'm not above offering a bribe or making a deal... So let me know what ya want and I'll make it happen.

Exciting news this week is that our family upgraded from a single stroller to a double. And we got it used at a very relieving price from a sweet friend whose kiddos are 13 months apart. {She and I have had lots of chats.} You also procured your very own teeny tiny 0-3 month size swimsuit in the event that you come with me to the pool later this summer. Also new is the first addition/change to the nursery, which is right now all about Maylin, but very soon you'll be kicking her out so it will be all about you. See print below. 

Also, Baby, for your viewing pleasure, I'll include bump pics of the last two weeks of your growth. You know, in case you're interested in that sort of thing one day. You're female, so I'll bet you will be.

Now it's time for me to get some lunch ready for your daddy, and your sister will be awake in a few minutes, so duty calls. You're becoming more real each day, and I'm getting more and more anxious to meet you as your due date draws closer.

Hartlie, Baby, I love you so so much.

{Baby Davis #2} Dear Baby | 03

Dear Baby,

We're over halfway through this little journey of pregnancy together. This week we are 22 weeks along. I, for one, can barely believe it. Our time together is flying by so so fast. Here are a few little things about you at this time in our relationship.

I am craving {with a passion} thawed frozen mango chunks, grapefruit by the pound, and salads of any and every kind. I'm pretty thrilled that you want healthy food, because with your older sister I really only wanted to eat Kentucky Fried Chicken {ew! never caved, but it was tough!}, chips and salsa, and crackers with mustard. I know, right?! Pretty insane. You can hold that over her head when you get a little older.  

But back to the mangoes, grapefruit, and salads. This past week the grocery store was out of the package of frozen mango chunks that I always buy and a lump formed in my throat right there as I stood with the door open in the frozen food section. I stood there, Baby, bug-eyed and furious and sad with cold air swooshing down on top of me for a full minute before I finally conceded that frozen mangoes weren't going to appear out of thin air from the laser beams my eyes were shooting at the shelf. Sigh. I've had to go without them for a whole week, and I think my taste buds may literally dance out of my mouth with happiness when I finally get to eat them again. 

Now for the grapefruit. I have at least one half of a cold, salted grapefruit every morning with my breakfast. I really don't know how I ever thought breakfast was complete without one. Juicy, tart, sweet, and chilled. While I'm doing my early morning prenatal yoga, all I can think about is how good my grapefruit is going to be at breakfast. That and my coffee. And when I said I was eating them by the pound, I meant that I'm truly buying a five pound bag of grapefruit at the store every week. That's a lot of sour grapefruit deliciousness, Baby. I'm pretty sure we're both loving it. Now my mouth is sufficiently watering, so I'm going to move on from cravings for the time being, although I'm inwardly lamenting not being able to go grab a couple chunks of mango to munch on. {And let's not dwell on the fact that I just wrote three paragraphs about tropical fruit, okay?}

Baby, yesterday you and I went to our checkup all by ourselves. It was a nice little outing with just you and me. No big sister to have my attention, and even Daddy was at work with a busy morning. So it was just us. It hasn't been just us in a while, so I relished "listening" carefully for your kicks and talking to you on the drive. The doctor said you are super healthy. You have a very strong, fast, and regular heartbeat. It still thrills me each time I get to hear it. I always wait a little anxiously while Dr. locates it with his doppler, but as soon as I hear your little life-beats I relax and a broad smile takes over my face. 

I've been having slight contractions with you, Baby. They've been going on for about a month, and feel like very heavy cramps in my lower abdomen. I was a little concerned about these, because for one I got a little frightened that you are going to have a very impatient personality and I'm not sure if, as a mama, I can hang with that. And for two, I'd really like you to stay inside your little Baby-cave as long as possible so you can enter our world completely developed and healthy and so you don't have to live in the NICU and can come home with me. Have no fear, though, Baby. Dr. said that these contractions were perfectly normal and was not concerned about them at all. I'm supposed to pay attention to them to make sure they don't become too regular or painful, but other than that, we're in the clear. So, Baby, if you're doing this uterus activity thing to get some additional attention, I hear ya. I'm in tune. So please, let's not get too carried away and stay inside Mama for, say, 18 more weeks or so. Then, by all means, you can come out. Thank you. That would make Mama very happy.

Baby, one advantage you have is that you're my second pregnancy. With your sister I was very self-conscious {and very ignorant} about lots of different things. With you, I am embracing much more. I love this little belly bump you're giving me, and I'm not as hesitant to show it off. I am much more comfortable in my skin with you. That is a huge relief and a great blessing. I feel I am more free to love on you and be proud of you. There are definite advantages to being a second child, and I believe this is one of them.

One of the things I am looking forward to most, darling Baby, is seeing the way you and your sister will interact. I am so anticipant of that unique sister-bond, and I can't wait to watch that develop between you two. As a mother, I'm going to do all I can do foster and nourish that special relationship, although I'm pretty sure it will have no trouble developing on its own. 

To sum up, I've so enjoyed noticing ways that you are your own little person already, even at a gestational age of 22 weeks. I can't wait to  know you more. 

I love you, my sweet Baby Hartlie.

And one more picture from a couple weeks ago. I guess you could say this is the first picture of you and Maylin together. Makes my mama-heart melt.

H

{Baby Davis #2} Introducing...

I'm not sure why, but I always assumed the experience of our second pregnancy/child wouldn't be quite as exciting as the first. After all, we've already been through pregnancy, childbirth, and baby-rearing with Maylin. Aren't they all kinda the same? We've pretty much "done it" already, so naturally it's expected to be slightly less exciting the second time around.

Oh how foolish I was.

This second pregnancy is truly just as exciting as the first. Not saying that the two pregnancies are the same, because they're not. They're vastly different, and contain vastly different emotions and experiences. Nevertheless, this second pregnancy with Baby Girl No. 2 is still just as thrilling. I think this may be perhaps because I know what to expect. I know what's coming, and can therefore be giddy, anticipatory excited rather than anxious, nervous excited. Does that make sense? {If not, then just chalk it up to pregnancy brain, okay?}

We went for the anatomy scan of BG2 a couple weeks ago, on Michael's birthday, which was kind of neat. {That didn't happen with Maylin. So you see, point proven.} The true purpose of the anatomy scan is for measurements to be taken and to make sure the baby is developing properly. With Maylin, the only ultrasound we had was the one anatomy scan. Our doctor only orders ultrasounds if they're medically necessary, and thankfully with both our girls thus far, we've never had a reason to have more than this one. So we only get to see the baby this once before she's born. 

I was just as excited to lay my eyes on our baby as I was to find out her gender. I wanted to see with my own eyes that she was really in there, that she was growing and developing on schedule, that all her organs and limbs were accounted for. I pray daily, and very specifically, for the mental and physical health of this child {and did with Maylin, too}; so this scan was a huge relief for my mind.

Thankfully, there the baby was. Perfect. Developing naturally and on time. We have several in utero pictures of her, but this one is probably my favorite. It's the most detailed image we have of her face.

Is it just me, or does her profile look remarkably like Maylin's? Michael thinks I'm a little crazy, but I really think I can already see similarities. I'm already having fantasies about matching monogrammed outfits...

When it was time to examine "the goods" to discover the gender, Michael and I were both on the edge of our seats. I'd had mixed feelings about whether I wanted a boy or a girl. I wanted each gender equally as much, but for different reasons. I wanted a boy to be a son for M, for them to do manly things together; so M could pass down his love and skill for baseball; so I could watch him grow into a man who is a strong leader like his father. Simultaneously, I wanted a girl for Maylin, so they could have that special, irreplaceable sister-bond and be built-in best friends, so they could share life together. I'm not sure which one I wanted more. Really I felt that either gender would be a win-win for me.

When it was apparent that our baby is a girl, I felt the most conflicting emotion of deep disappointment that it wasn't a boy and deep elation that it was a girl. It's a very strange emotion, and I'm not sure if I'll ever feel it again in my life. That emotion lasted for about a split-second before Michael and I looked at each other with huge smiles. Of course she's a girl. Of course she is. Hadn't she always been? Hadn't our hearts been prepared for this since the moment we knew we were expecting again? And from that second on, she's fit so naturally into the landscape of our family that it's difficult to imagine ever thinking she was a boy.

We decided pretty quickly on her first name. It's one that we've always liked, a runner up when we were naming Maylin. It never quite fit for Maylin, but we saved it just in case. As soon as we tried it out on this baby, however, we knew it was a winner. It clicked. It was perfect. It was her.

We debated on her second name for a while, though. We tried out many different names with many different cadences and meanings. We tried family names, modern names, three-syllable names. And in the end, one was suggested that we least expected to stick. But stick it did. Nothing overly fancy. It's simple. Classic. Undeniably feminine. Meaningful.

With the greatest thrill, and deepest level of anticipation and expectation, I introduce to you...

Welcome, Baby. Welcome. Though you're not in our arms yet, your place is firmly cemented in our family.

{Baby Davis #2} Dear Baby | 02

Dear Baby,

You have a name. You have a face. You seem so  much more real now. This past week we went for your anatomy scan and were able to see your image for the first time.

You are perfect.

You have ten little fingers and ten little toes. You have a four-chambered heart beating at 148 beats per minute. You weigh a whopping 8 ounces. You have two kidneys and two lungs and one loooong spine that stretches the length of your back.

Already I can see glimpses of your own personality. You are quite the little wiggle worm- flipping, twisting, turning, and kicking. You were hardly still the whole time we watched you. This has carried over into all parts of our life, for there is rarely a time {day or night} that I don't feel your movements. My hunch is you are going to rock the world of this little family.

As you grow and make your presence more noticeable, I find myself thinking of you more often. And praying for you by name. And anxiously anticipating your entrance into our world.

Happy New {Birth} Year, Baby. You're making it shine already.

{Baby Davis #2} Dear Baby | 01

Dear Baby,

I promise I haven't forgotten about you. It's just that things have been a little hectic around here. You see, I'm still halfway waiting for things to return to "normal" from when your big sister was born over 8 months ago. I'm still trying to catch my breath. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around this whole "mothering" business, which is really a lot harder than my mother {your grandmother} made it look. I'm still new at this. I'm still learning. And most days I feel like I'm still drowning in everything I don't know and am unsure about.

I know, I know. You're thinking, "Mom, get it together; only 6 more months till I get here. If you haven't gotten it together by now, I'm not sure that you will. And I really need you to by the time I'm born. Because then you'll have two little babies depending on you. And I'll be a newborn, and I'll really need a lot of your time and attention. So please, Mom, for the sake of our whole family. Get. It. Together."

Here's my promise to you, Baby. By the time you're born I'll have fully accepted my role as a mom of two under two. I won't be perfect. I won't know it all. I will make many, many mistakes {that I pray with my whole heart won't land you in the emergency room or ruin your sense of self-confidence}. But I will be the best mother to you I can. I cherish you and love you and want the world for you. And hopefully, even on the days when I feel like everything is falling apart, you'll still think I'm pretty great. That's what kind of mom I want to be for you.

Your daddy and I wanted you. We created you on purpose. You were not a mistake, an "oops," an "uh-oh, we didn't mean for that to happen this soon." We knew you would come and we fully embraced that, and excitedly looked forward to knowing you exist. Now you do. And I'm so, so sorry for freaking out a little bit and doubting myself that you're coming at the exact right time when you're supposed to. Because if we'd waited any longer, you wouldn't be you. You'd be someone else. And, Baby, you're the one we want.

I feel like I've neglected you for a little bit. I spent so much time and attention and thought on your big sister when she was all cuddled inside my belly. I'm sorry that I haven't given you as much as I gave her. But I promise it's not because I love you less than I love her. And I promise it won't be this way for the whole of your lives. You will not always live in her shadow. You will not always be overlooked by me because of her. That, my sweet Baby, is a pinkie-swear-cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die oath. I love you completely and separately from your sister. You are your own little person, and I'm going to start treating you as such. You deserve my best.

So now, Baby, from this day forward, I will think about you more. Dream of you more. Plan for you more. Stare into space and smile about you more. You are already an integral part of our little growing family. You are already prayed for every day. You are your own special little someone. I hope you can tell this is a turning point {or maybe a starting point} in our unique Mama/Baby relationship, and I hope you're jumping and twirling for joy because of it, even though I can't feel you yet. 

You are mine and I am yours. Welcome to our little family.

{Baby Davis #2} Oh BABY, Here We Go Again!

That was my first thought when I took the pregnancy test back in September. 

Another BABY. Sometimes I still can't wrap my mind around it, though we've known for well over a month. So much will change, in a good way, when this new baby makes its appearance. 

Michael and I are both so very excited. We knew when we began the process of growing our family that we wanted to have our children quick and close together. And it looks like that's going to be the case for these two little ones. I am anticipating watching them grow up together, a built in best friend that they'll play with, whisper to, plot against. In my mind I can already hear them playing on the slide in the backyard, tromping up and down the stairs, giggling, slamming the door as they run in and out of the house, and yes, even fighting and arguing. 

I'm expecting the first few months when this baby is still a newborn to be difficult, of course. I'm not so jaded as all that. But after, when they're both a little older, I think it will be rather fun. For everyone in our little family.

Legacy is a word M and I have been talking about frequently over the past year or so. What kind of legacy do we want to leave for our children? What kind of legacy do we want our family to have? One of our visions is of a close knit family, close both relationally and in age. In my mind I sometimes have the feeling that all of our children are already here with us and waiting, invisible, and it's our job to bring them into the world and into our family. I can't imagine our family with any more or less members than we've planned, it's just a matter of when they will arrive. This new little baby is just the second child-sized piece to make our family complete.

I wrapped the test in a box for Michael with a few little notes & surprised him when he came home from work.

While I was pregnant with Maylin I did weekly belly bump pictures and pregnancy updates {on my old blog}, but with this pregnancy I plan to do those bump shots and updates on a monthly basis. This will make my already hectic Mom-life much more manageable! Post about Month 2 coming soon.