In all my writings, somehow, I neglected to ever share about my Other Baby J. I am nowhere near his birthday or any sort of milestone; it’s just on my heart tonight to write about my youngest… so I shall. And yes, it’s long.
Baby J #2 was highly anticipated. Brother J was getting older and all of a sudden, I had this sudden urge for a newborn! While my dear husband was a little more reluctant, he finally agreed. We found out #3 was on the way Labor Day weekend, 2014.
I kept the news hidden from my family for awhile. Literally the week before I took the test, my mother had told me I had my plate full with two and should maybe consider not having a third. Little did she know… So, I was a little apprehensive of sharing the good news with them! Thankfully, they took it really well and were super excited for us.
As per usual, I was horrendously sick. The nausea was uncontrollable and I would hit the sack every evening feeling like I was floating on a ship – my world tipping and turning and unable to get the sea of my bed to calm down and just hold still for a moment! Brian spent countless nights on the couch since his every movement simply increased the nausea.
Within the first six weeks, I began to bleed. I immediately called my OB and they scheduled me for an appointment that afternoon. I called my mom and she dropped everything to come over for the day. I put my feet up and drank gallons of water while she chased the children and did my laundry. Finally, the time for our ultrasound came. My mom let me cry on her shoulder before Brian and I left; I was just certain we would return with the news of ‘no heartbeat.’
I remember lying on that hard bed, staring at the ultrasound monitor while the sweet tech talked our ears off. She explained every ounce of what we were looking at and what it all meant – something brand new for us. In Peru, we had lots of great ultrasounds, but for most of them, the techs were dead silent or gave us minimal information, whether because of the language barrier or cultural differences, I really do not know. But, this time – it was such exquisite bliss to understand what was on the screen. Then – finally – the blessed “blip-blip” of his little heart. I cried. She handed me tissues and rejoiced with us. I will forever remember this sweet ultrasound tech who was so loving in how she handled us! Baby was just fine, but I was to keep my feet up for a few more weeks.
During my “keep my feet up” stage, I got the usual massive blood work-up done and found out that my thyroid, which has forever plagued me, had gone way out of whack. I was informed by a specialist that my level was supposed to be between a 2-5 and I was at a 12. The higher the number, the less the thyroid is functioning. My friends with thyroid issues told me the highest they had ever gotten was a 7 and they were immobile. My 12 quickly helped me understand why I had zero desire to get off the couch and watched my two children run laps around the house while I dozed all. day. long. I was horribly sick. A year after I gave birth, I was still getting it under control. Not cool.
Shortly before Christmas, I took my mother with me to the BIG ultrasound – the one where we found out what we were having! I took my mom because she had never gotten to go to an ultrasound for any of the grandkids yet and I thought she might enjoy it. Brian wasn’t offended and was totally on board with it. It was a special moment and I’m so glad my mom was there. Afterwards, we ran to Target and I picked out a cute little onesie to surprise the rest of the family with the gender when I got home. So fun!
We called him Peanut. I was shocked it was another boy – for some reason I had convinced myself it was a girl. But, God knows what each family needs and He knew we needed another crazy boy.
December also meant sickness for me. I was so sick with a nasty cough and congestion that seemed to go on forever! I couldn’t get over how sick I was! Once that finally ended, I had such horrid ligament pain I could barely walk. I kid you not, this entire pregnancy was one issue after another.
But, my little peanut was just fine. Healthy. And HUGE!
I still had a month to go in this picture. I felt like a TANK by the time I was done. I hibernated the last few weeks and barely left the house, I was so embarrassed. That probably sounds dumb, but I was criticized so badly about my size during my previous two pregnancies, I just couldn’t do it again. This time, I was hearing it from people that mattered the most – family – and, emotionally, I was not stable enough to listen to criticism. There was nothing I could do about it; he just kept growing! But WOA. I was big.
My doctor was amazing. She never got any medical history from me. I was never able to get my records from Peru. So, she was going off of only what I could remember from my past pregnancies and trying to piece together what probably happened medically. Even with the info I gave her, she was still willing to let me try a VBAC! I was floored and SO excited! And horribly nervous. It felt like I was giving birth for the first time, which, in essence, I was. I had never had a real contraction, my water had never broken, I had never done any pre-labor anything! I had no CLUE what would happen.
She warned me I’d probably go past my due date and she was right. I did. Longest five days of my LIFE! Older Brother arrived the day I turned 37 weeks. E came during my 38th week. To go PAST 40 seemed inconceivable! I have been lied to! Pregnancy is SO NOT “9 months” like we have always been told. If you know, like I do, from Week #3 that you’re pregnant, pregnancy is ALL of 10 months. Trust me.
My neighbor had given birth to 4 children, all naturally, and so she had lots of ideas and tips. The day before baby arrived, she yanked me out of my house and made me walk. We began early in the morning and walked almost 2 miles while she wrangled my older children. After nap time, we did it again. The kids went home with Brian and she invited me over and fed me a huge, nutritional shake and gave me a pedicure. Then, around 7:30pm, she made me walk again. I was so sore I could barely move! But, before I left for that last walk, contractions had finally begun. By the time I got home, I knew this was the real deal.
We put a movie on and I puttered around, trying to relax and get some stuff ready. We texted my dad and put him on alert since the plan was for him to come watch the kids if something happened overnight. Around 11, Brian told me to go ahead and call the doctor. Of course, they asked me to come in. Arg. I had no desire to go in at midnight! But, we did what we were told – we knew no better or different. My dad showed up in record time and fairly pushed us out the door. We laughed in the car, talking about how my dad acted like the baby would just drop out with no warning at any second!
They did a full examine at the hospital, but I just had a gut feeling I was going to be sent home. When the on-call doctor found out I had two previous c-sections, but my OB was letting me try for a VBAC, he about flipped his lid. There was no way, on his watch, that I was going to do a VBAC if he could prevent it. He was obviously adamantly opposed. They did an ultrasound since baby was so late and decided he was doing fine, but needed to come soon. I was to have my final appointment at 7am in the regular office and that was to be when my OB would decide what happened next. We had just always assumed I wouldn’t need that appointment! I also knew, in the back of my mind, that she was on vacation, but assumed she had found a replacement for that particular appointment since it was kind of important. They discharged us at 5am (so. tired.) and told us to be sure to get to that appointment at 7.The doctor insinuated that I may need to wait until Wednesday to have a c-section when my regular doctor got home from my vacation. I lost it mentally, thinking about having those contractions all the way until Wednesday!! NO WAY!
We went home and crashed. My dad had no idea we ever came in and he left the house at 6:30 when my mom showed up since had had to be somewhere by 7. My mom was shocked when we came out of the bedroom, showered and ready for my appointment! We explained what had happened and she noticed my contractions were much harder and longer and told me she hoped the next time she saw me would be with a baby! I agreed! No way did I want to come home again – I wanted it over! At this point I knew I had never had a ‘real’ contraction with E. These were miles upon miles different than anything I had ever experienced before!
We went back to the office. It was closed. What?! I used the bathroom like twice. Paced. Held onto a chair in the lobby and tried not to cry while the contractions intensified. Waited. Finally, around 7:20, doors were unlocked and we went in. The receptionist informed us that my appointment had been canceled and none of the doctors in that day had any room for another patient. I was in tears. I held onto the counter and asked them to wait a second while I had another contraction, then demanded they help me figure out what to do since we had just spent all night in the hospital, I had a standing appointment that no one had told me was canceled, and I was in active labor! A nurse standing there said, “Go back to the hospital. They’ll keep you this time, I promise. Good luck.”
By the time we got back, it was shift-change time. A sweet night nurse we had seen the previous night encouraged me in the hallway to be an advocate for myself. She gave me tips on what to ask for and how in order to ensure a natural delivery and no c-section. Unfortunately, she was then done for the day and I never saw her again!
They did keep me. And strapped me to the bed, covered in monitors. I begged to be allowed to walk around and was met with a resounding ‘no.’ I was too high-risk with him being late and my previous sections. I was frustrated, but honestly, I was so sore from walking the day before and SO TIRED from being up all night that when a contraction hit while I was standing, the pain was so intense down my legs that they buckled and couldn’t hold me. Brian was amazing and helped me breathe through every contraction, letting me hold his arm and staring me in the face. He kept me going as they got more and more intense.
The day doctor was nicer, but still not a big fan of the idea of a VBAC. I was barely dilated and not effaced. However, my contractions were three minutes apart and strong enough that I should have been nearing delivery. But I wasn’t. It was as if my body began labor and then went, “What the?! You want me to do WHAT?! NO WAY! You’re on your own!”
My body never did prepare itself for delivery. Thanks to previous sections, there was nothing they could do without risk of rupture and we were not okay with that. By 1pm, it was obvious that even though my contractions were 2-3 minutes apart and super intense, nothing else was going to happen. When he told me, “We’re going to go ahead and prep you for a c-section,” and then left, I lost it. I sobbed and sobbed. I could not control it. One sweet nurse came over and comforted me, letting me cry and listening to my reasonings behind why I was so scared.
The last thing in the world I wanted was another c-section. No epidural had gone well. Surgery scared the heck out of me. Recovery sucks. I couldn’t hold my baby. And I would be apart from Brian. No thank you.
This time was blessedly different. God is such a good Father, isn’t He?
He gave me an amazing anesthesiologist and a wonderful assistant who was SO comforting the whole time.
In this hospital, I didn’t get an epidural; I was given a spinal, which makes you completely numb from mid-chest down. I turned into a Pentecostal while they did the procedure, muttering out loud, “Oh Lord Jesus, help me. Oh Father God, please hold me. I do not have a spirit of fear, but of power, of love, and of a sound mind” over and over and over until a nurse finally leaned in and whispered, “Are you okay?”
As soon as my back began to grow cold, they slammed my giant, pregnant body down as fast as they could move onto the tiny, cold, metal bed. I didn’t know I could be moved that fast! The spinal was great, except I had worked myself up into almost a panic-attack and couldn’t breathe. They continued to ‘up’ my meds until I was super loopy the whole time and I still complained I couldn’t breathe, even though they assured us that I was just fine.
Brian was brought in and sat by my head. Two minutes later, James Lee entered this world kicking and screaming!
With the other two, I was allowed to “look, but don’t touch” as my hands were strapped down and they whisked the babies away moments after birth. This time, they opened up my robe and plopped him right on my chest moments after he was born. They let me hold him, but I was shaking so bad I thought I’d drop him, so someone supported him and someone else held the paper over my head since the lights were too bright for us. I got to kiss him and snuggle him and get skin-to-skin time right there in the operating room. I could’ve held him a lot longer if I hadn’t felt so horrid and miserable. Brian held him while they finished me up and then we all were taken to recovery.
My two days of recovery in the hospital were glorious. I felt awesome. I had wonderful visitors, my pain was manageable, I got rest, and I got to hold my boy as often as I wanted, whenever I wanted.
Best of all, my parents got to see and hold one of my newborns. It was a moment I will never, ever forget seeing my dad cry tears of joy as he held his namesake (“Lee” is my dad’s middle name).
And that, my friends, is how we became a family of 5.
I can’t imagine life without our little stinker. He is LOUD, busy (began walking at 9 months!), and full of crazy energy. Sweet, smart, and musical. I love my 2nd little Baby J.
Christmas Day, 2016