Ford's Birth Story

Now that Ford is five months old, I figured it was high time that I pen his birth story. I actually started writing it on August 3 … which happens to be about the time that his colic set in. And that, my friends, is why only now have I found a moment to gather my thoughts and write clearly how special and amazing Ford’s birthday, July 31, 2011, is to me, and how God showed up MANY times over the course of the labor and delivery.

July 25

I’ll start with Ford’s due date: July 25. I had a fabulous pregnancy. Yes, I was one of those annoying people who never felt sore, nauseous or fatigued. I really loved every moment of carrying my baby, and it was such a special time for me and Brad as we waited with eagerness to welcome our son. We cherished those last months and days as a family of two, and I remember feeling so close to God, knowing that he had chosen me for something very special… to be a mom to this sweet little life, and with Brad, to shepherd this baby’s heart from infancy to adulthood. In a way, it felt really magical. Charmed.

Because of how wonderful I felt as a pregnant person, it was easy for me to wait for Ford’s arrival. I was excited to “meet” him, but not in a hurry to rush him along before my body and his were ready. My due date came and went, as I had a feeling it would (I had not had any contractions – not even Braxton Hicks – so I assumed I would go past July 25, despite that my doctor assured me Ford would be on time or early).

July 28

I had a doctor’s appointment on July 28, and I expected my doctor to check things out, tell me all is well, then send me on my way until Ford decided he was ready to join the ranks of the un-umbilicaled. However, many of you may remember that my OB-GYN was very concerned that I hadn’t delivered yet. He explained to me that not only did he believe we would need to schedule an induction, but based on my Bishop score, he felt confident an induction would fail and result in a C-section.

I had not been big on the whole “birth plan” thing. I figured things would happen as they happened, and I wasn’t going to be particular about the lighting, whether or not I was okay with frequent fetal monitoring, or if I would be reclining, semi-reclining, side-lying, etc. during the labor process. The ONLY things I had been specific about were that 1) I would prefer not to be induced (no Pitocin if at all possible) 2) I DEFINITELY did not want a C-section unless it were an absolute emergency for me or the baby 3) I wanted to feed Ford as soon as possible after he was born to start the bonding process.

So to hear I was not only facing an induction, but very likely a C-section, was frustrating. I felt like I had been trying EVERYTHING I should, and suddenly, once my due date neared and then passed, everyone started telling me what worked for them, or their cousin, or their best friend’s sister’s college roommate. And for the most part, I had already tried everything. It was discouraging. And the thing is, I trusted my body to do what it needed to do. I believed Ford would start the labor process when it was time for him to. I didn’t start getting anxious or discouraged until my doctor and seemingly everyone else I encountered started telling me something must be wrong and I needed to fix it. I started keeping a list of everything I had tried to jump start labor and wake little Ford up from his womb nap. Here’s a partial list:

spicy food, pedicure, black cohosh, blue cohosh, evening primrose oil, red raspberry leaf, walking (miles in the heat of the summer), warm baths, jogging, exercise bike, cleaning the entire house, squats, Swiss ball exercises, yoga… and more.

So when the doctor gave me the “bad” news on July 28 and scheduled my induction for the following Thursday, August 4, I had a good cry and decided to pull out all the stops. We asked many people we love and trust to pray specifically that I would go into labor on my own and that I would avoid C-section. Brad bought me two pineapples and I ate them both within 24 hours. I went that very afternoon to a chiropractor (first time ever!) to see if my pelvis was out of alignment and get an adjustment. Turns out, everything was already perfectly aligned, and the chiropractor – who specialized in pediatrics and prenatal chiropractic – said she couldn’t pinpoint why the baby hadn’t dropped yet. Brad and I went to get the spiciest Indian food possible that night. Even the Indians who worked at the restaurant watched us in awe as we ate every morsel and every drop of spicy sauce on our plate (funny story – at first they refused to serve me such spicy food, because we asked for the very spiciest thing they could possibly make, and I must have looked a little scary at 9+ months pregnant… but we convinced them. They literally stood around our table, mouths agape, as we determinedly ate our food).

July 29

The next morning I went to my (first ever!) acupuncture appointment. A very nice Chinese man named Bush Zhang (who was in my insurance network and has a great reputation) poked me with 10 needles, hooked me up to some sort of electric thing, flipped a switch and let me lie in a dark room for 20 minutes getting electrical impulses at various pressure points. As I was leaving, he gave me a bag of bark tea and instructions for preparing it, then told me confidently in a thick Chinese accent: “You have your baby tonight… maybe tomorrow morning.” I laughed and told him that I had a feeling I would still be pregnant tomorrow, so he encouraged me to come back in if I hadn’t had the baby within 12 – 16 hours.

July 30

Early on the morning of July 30, around 3:30 a.m., I woke up with what I later would realize were my first contractions. It really just felt like indigestion. I decided to take a warm bath, and then was able to go back to sleep. I woke up a few hours later feeling much more encouraged. I still was in a bit of denial that I could have possibly had contractions that night, after hearing from my doctor there was no way I would have the baby on my own. But I was hopeful. I called Dr. Zhang’s office again and went in for another treatment at 10 a.m. on July 30. (Sidenote: Dr. Zhang and his assistant were shocked – shocked – that I hadn’t had the baby yet. :)  We repeated the same drill as the day before, then I decided to run errands and see if I could get some contractions going. I went to Target and bought a few groceries, including the ingredients to make cupcakes. I went home and speed-walked for about an hour around the neighborhood in 105-degree weather. Then I returned to the house and started fixing my cupcakes. As I was in the middle of making them, I thought to myself, “Oh my goodness… these could end up being “birth-day” cupcakes!” For the most part, however, I didn’t believe that I could really be in labor. I felt occasional cramps, which was definitely new, but I really think they were contractions. I hadn’t even told Brad anything yet. We were sort of in an unspoken “don’t talk about it lest we get discouraged or impatient” mode, and I didn’t want to get his hopes up only to learn that, in fact, nothing was happening. Around 4 p.m., I texted my cousin, Shelly, who had been a constant source of helpful advice and a listening ear for me throughout my pregnancy, and I told her I THOUGHT I might be having contractions and to pray that I was. We shared a moment of giddiness over text, and I decided to start getting dinner ready… and start timing my contractions (there’s an app for that, as you might imagine!). As I was making spaghetti and meatballs, I cautiously told Brad, “I MIGHT be having contractions, but don’t get excited until I tell you to.” Always good at following instructions, Brad simply shrugged and said, “Okay.” I teased him and said I thought he’d be a little excited, and he matter-of-factly replied, “Well you said don’t get excited yet, so I won’t.” We did pray that God would start the labor process in his time and in his way, then we enjoyed a yummy meal.

That night, we watched the movie JFK. That’s nearly a three-and-a-half hour film, and at the beginning of it, I thought “I could be having some serious contractions by the end of this movie!” Sure enough, about halfway through, I started to get pretty uncomfortable. I started doing some exercises on the Swiss ball and really trying to focus through the pain. I noticed Brad was sitting on the couch, watching the movie and giggling at some chat he was having on his computer. At that point, I sort of snapped at him… I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was something to the effect of, “Well I’m glad you’re having so much fun right now.” Totally uncalled for… and totally cliché, right? He calmly asked me if I was still timing my contractions. I told him I was, and he asked me how far apart they were. I checked and they were only four minutes apart. My doctor had told me to call when they were five minutes apart. Brad encouraged me to call the doctor.

It was a Saturday, and my doctor is never on call over the weekend, so I knew Dr. Norwood wouldn’t be at the hospital. I was still somehow really not willing to acknowledge that I was in labor. I wasn’t scared or nervous; I just didn’t believe it could be true, after how badly my doctor’s appointment had gone only two days earlier. I had hoped that the only other doctor I had seen in the practice – Dr. McCants, who I liked a lot – would be on call. Sure enough, once I finally decided to phone the hospital (around 11:30 p.m.), Dr. McCants was the doctor on call! Out of something like 10 doctors in the practice, she was the one working that weekend. Amazing, and such a “God thing.” I explained to Dr. McCants what was going on, but I also filled her in on what Dr. Norwood had said Thursday, and that I REALLY didn’t think it was possible that I was in labor. She said it sounds like early labor; if it’s not, they can send me home or have me walk around the hospital a few times, but either way, I should probably come in.

July 31 (THE BIG DAY!)

Brad and I decided to wait a while before heading in. We tidied up the house, took showers, I did my hair and makeup, and Brad threw the last of his things into our already-packed hospital bag. We took a few videos to document the “getting ready” process, prayed and did a devotion, and decided to leave for the hospital around 1:30 a.m. I checked in at 2 a.m., and Brad and I were so giddy, it was silly. We were excited to be at the hospital, and so hopeful. Dr. McCants gave me a quick examination. She asked me how dilated and effaced I was at my appointment two days earlier. I told her I was barely .5 cm dilated and 50 percent effaced, to which she replied, “How happy would you be if I told you that you were now 2 cm dilated and 80 percent effaced?” I was ecstatic, of course. She told me I had gone from basically a 0 or 1 on the Bishop scale to a 9 in about 48 hours, and that I was a “keeper,” meaning they weren’t going to send me home. By her math, I should be dilating about a centimeter every hour, so the baby would be here by 11 a.m. or noon.

Brad and I waited around in the very nice labor and delivery suite, listened to music, watched TV, talked, took pictures and videos, prayed and thanked God for answering our prayers to have labor start without artificial hormones, and just enjoyed our time. We didn’t want to text or email anyone until 5 or 6 a.m. Of course, when we finally told our parents that we were at the hospital, they were overjoyed! It was a really great moment.

Around 5 a.m., when I was very much in the active stage of labor and dilated to about 5.5 centimeters, I decided it was time for an epidural. Great decision. My pain was gone, but I still was able to feel pressure, move my legs around, have sensation in my toes, etc. However, when the doctor came back to check my progress, I had stalled. She checked again an hour later, and my labor had basically stopped progressing. I was still having contractions, but they weren’t productive. Suddenly, this wasn’t “fun” anymore. She had a sincere talk with me and told me she understood my desire to avoid C-section, but if I don’t have the baby by 5 p.m. (it was now about 9 a.m.), we would have to do a C-section. They advised me to allow them to start me on a slow drip of Pitocin. I had really wanted to avoid Pit, but it was more important to me that I avoid C-section. I just wanted to test my body’s limits and prove to myself that I could have the kind of birth that I had ever so vaguely envisioned. The doctor also broke my water for me. Brad and I summoned our prayer warriors again and started praying furiously as well. I couldn’t believe that God would answer this many prayers and take me this far only to have me deliver Ford by C-section.

An hour and a half later, Dr. McCants returned to check on me. I had told Brad I would be thrilled if she told me I was 7 centimeters dilated. He thought it would be great if I were at an 8. Dr. McCants started laughing during the examination. She shook her head and said, “Not only have you made progress… you are complete (10 cm dilated, 100 percent effaced), the baby is at +2 station, and it looks like you’ve been that way for about an hour!” So in as little as 30 minutes, I had gone from “You’re probably going to have a C-section after all,” to “It’s time to push, girl!”

My amazing nurse, Susan, coached me on how to push. And push I did. They told me that it’s not unusual for first time moms to have to push for 1 - 2 hours, so don’t be discouraged if it takes some time. “Fine,” I thought. I was just excited that this was happening! The doctor told me I was a “pro pusher” and that I was doing everything right. However, after 1.5 hours of pushing, the baby hadn’t moved an inch downward. Not a good sign. At this point, I had to have my epidural topped off, because I was feeling a lot of pain in my back. The doctor decided to see what could be going on, and…

Here’s where it gets interesting.

The baby was facing the wrong way. Sunny-side up, occiput posterior, OP, whatever you want to call it. His head was down, but his face was pointed toward my front instead of toward my back. God designed it so that the baby’s head, facing toward the mother’s back, would tuck perfectly under the pelvic bone. As it was, Ford’s skull was ramming up against my pelvic bone and unable to tuck under. Which meant, according to the doctor, that I had three options:

1) C-section

2) Forceps to turn the baby so that his face was pointing toward my back

3) Vacuum to the top of his head so that the doctor could forcefully guide him under the bone

Obviously 1) was out, so it was between 2) and 3). The doctor was hesitant to tell me what to do – presumably for liability purposes – so the nurse told me if it were her baby, she’d go with the forceps since vacuum extraction may pose some risk to the baby’s brain. Okay then! Dr. McCants tried to turn the baby with the forceps, and that didn’t work. Then she tried to turn him with her hands (can I just say at this point: THANK GOD FOR EPIDURALS). That didn’t work, though I did learn from Dr. McCants that Ford would have hair and a “righteous conehead.” So with that method failing, I said, “Okay, let’s do the vacuum after all.” No dice. Apparently once you try the forceps, you can’t try the vacuum because it’s too risky. It’s one or the other (I didn’t know that). So once AGAIN, for the third? fourth? time, I was facing a C-section. Okay, there is ONE more option, Dr. McCants said. We can use a different type of forceps to pull him out while you push (instead of just trying to turn him the proper direction).

Of course, we decided to do that. I pushed for another two hours. Brad and Susan each held my feet while I gave it everything I had. The chief resident, Dr. Newman, operated the forceps while Dr. McCants gave her guidance. I just kept being told I was doing everything right but that the baby didn’t want to come out. After nearly four hours of pushing, Dr. McCants whispered to Dr. Newman, “How much longer are you going to let this go on?” Meaning, “How long until we wheel her in for a C-section?” Dr. Newman replied, “Two more pushes.” Fortunately, I didn’t hear this exchange. Brad and Susan, however, did, and suddenly started being super-hyper-cheerleader types. “COME ON, KATIE! You’ve got this! PUSH, PUSH, PUSH! You really need to push!” “Duh, guys,” I thought. “I’ve been pushing for four hours, I know this is what I ‘need’ to be doing.” So I kept pushing as hard as I could.

Nothing.

I pushed one more time… the last push, though I didn’t know it, that Drs. Newman and McCants would allow me before I went in for an emergency C-section.

And Ford came out, my slippery little babe, in that one push.

One push. The last push. And Ford entered our lives, the baby we had prayed for and loved while he was still just a dream in our hearts, was here in the flesh.

For the first time in more than 36 hours of labor, I started to cry. I was overwhelmed with gratitude toward my doctors and nurses and just kept saying over and over again, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Dr. McCants started crying too, hugging me and saying, “You did it, you really did it!” I would learn later that she had delivered nine babies that weekend, two of which were OP (sunny-side up), and the tears may have been more out of exhaustion than joy. Regardless, it was such an incredible moment.

The NICU team had been brought in, as is protocol when forceps are used. They tossed our boy across the room and started cleaning him up and suctioning his mouth. He had swallowed meconium on his way out, so they were concerned about his lungs. I heard him whimpering, trying to cry… it sounded like a kitten mewing. So sweet, I thought. I didn’t realize, probably due to all of the endorphins, that he should have been shrieking. I called out to Brad and asked cheerfully, “How is he? How does he look?”

Now Brad at this point had been through more of an ordeal than I had. He would tell me later that the doctor had been leaning back with all of her weight on the forceps—which looked like giant salad tongs—trying to pull Ford out, and that he thought she was breaking his neck. That was fairly horrifying, I’m told.

(Note: I learned later that Dr. Newman was herself pregnant, and that’s probably why she allowed me to go so long without a C-section. My own doctor, Dr. Norwood, told me the next day that he would have been “sharpening the knives,” as he put it, much earlier.)

So to answer my question about how Ford is and what he looks like, Brad—looking at Ford’s “righteous,” teradactyl-esque conehead, seeing him manhandled by the NICU team, and hearing our baby’s feeble little whimpers—did what any good husband would and should do, and answered tentatively, “Uhhh… good… ?”

And truth be told, despite swallowing meconium and making a rather dramatic entry into the world, Ford was, in fact, “good.” He scored and 8 and a 9 on his Apgar tests, but as a precaution he was sent to the nursery for observation before I was allowed to get more than just a picture with him. Brad was the only person besides members of the clinical team who was allowed to hold Ford during this time, giving them some really sweet bonding time. As Brad put it, Ford was the first baby he felt very natural holding—and the first baby who didn’t fuss as soon as he was placed in Brad’s arms. The doctors and nurses still needed to attend to me for about four hours before I was allowed to move from the labor and delivery room to the post-partum unit, and when I finally made my way up to the seventh floor of Baylor’s Truett Hospital where I would be reunited with Ford, our little guy had a ferocious appetite. It was such a special honor getting to really hold him and feed him for the first time. Truly surreal. I counted his fingers and toes and admired his sweet little creaseless face and long eyelashes. I couldn’t believe his thick head of dark hair and I remember thinking he looked so much like Brad, but with my dark hair and olive-toned skin.

Even though it wasn’t exactly the birth I expected to have, and my recovery took longer than I expected, I wouldn’t change a thing about the circumstances of Ford’s birth. God moved so many times, over and over, answering prayers and reminding us that his plan is perfect and he is more than worthy of our trust. I believe the medical team—my nurses, the on-call OB-GYN, and the chief resident—were perfectly appointed by him to be in that room with us and usher Ford safely into the world.

To close this story, I want to share one of the more magical moments of that day. First, you should know that I am a huge fan of the Beatles. I was raised on the Fab Four and know just about every beat and syllable to every one of their songs. I listened to the Beatles more often than any other music while I was pregnant, and I looked forward to introducing my son to their music someday. As fate would have it, Ford met the Beatles at birth. You see, when I was pretty early in the labor process, I played a Beatles mix I had made. We listened to it while we were just waiting around in the middle of the night at the hospital. The music stopped at some point, but I don't remember turning it off. I assume the playlist reached its end and didn’t repeat.

As the NICU team swept him across the room and the doctors attended to me, I realized that the stereo was back on and the song "Across the Universe" was playing. I swear the sound system had been off for hours, and suddenly my favorite band ever was welcoming my baby boy into the world. I felt like it was the soundtrack in a movie about one of the most important moments in my life.

I keep that moment close to my heart. I know there will be many more such moments, sort of out-of-body experiences where I feel like I’m watching my little one grow—too quickly, I’m sure. And I can’t wait to drink them all in.

Sounds of laughter, shades of life
are ringing through my open ears,
exciting and inviting me.
Limitless undying love which
shines around me like a million suns,
It calls me on and on across the universe...

A few pictures of Ford at one week old

 

Due Date!

 

 

 

I didn't actually see this movie and heard it was kind of "meh," but it seems appropriate for today! (Plus it's hard for me to believe that Zach Galifianakis could do any wrong. Have you SEEN "Between Two Ferns" ?!)

Notice the number in the "Baby Countdown" widget at the right? Zero days left! Happy Due Date!!!! Baby G must not have a calendar in there because with zero days left, there are zero signs of labor. I didn't expect there to be any, but I would be ELATED to feel a contraction today. Even just a false one. Something to tide me over... :)

As thrilling as I know it will be to welcome the Babe Gaultney into our lives, I am also cherishing these days of waiting. I am going to rip off an email I just sent to a friend to tell you what I mean:

[...] I am so EXCITED to meet him, but I'm just telling myself he's not technically "late" until August 8 (two weeks from now). Plus, this is such an amazing time to contemplate all of the joys and challenges ahead... I know that sounds cheesy, but really... What other time in LIFE am I going to have this kind of quiet time to ponder how God has blessed us, what kind of wife/friend/mother/sister/daughter I want to be... I'm not a very "contemplative" person by nature, so it has been cool to have a peace that allows me to think through those deep, spiritual questions. And I get a little giddy thinking that God knows Baby G's birthday already and we'll find out soon enough!

 

I really do mean that...  Yes, there are a few small things I'm kind of dreading. Namely, all of the well-meaning friends who may write things like, "When's that baby gonna get here?!" on my Facebook wall... and I also would like for the little guy to be born in July, which I believe is one of the most fabulous months. But really, that stuff doesn't matter in the long run.

That's not to say I'm not doing anything to encourage his arrival! I've amped up my exercise routine, walking a little further every day and spending some additional time on the exercise bike. I'm also using a Swiss ball instead of an office chair. And my doctor recommended that I start drinking a few cups of red raspberry leaf tea every day; it doesn't induce labor, but it does tone the muscles you'll need to use for delivery and may encourage the baby to ooch his way into position. These are just little changes to help things along, hopefully. 

 

I wrote way back when that Google is my frenemy... Such a great way to find info to help me in my pregnancy--what's okay to eat, what symptoms are normal, when you should call your doctor--but some of that info can be awfully scary. I made the mistake on Friday of Googling something like, "What happens if the baby doesn't drop," and the answer was -- dun dun dun -- C-section. I figure he's got to drop at some point though, right? And my doctor has a really low C-section and induction rate, so I think he'll work with me to allow the babe to come on his own time!

I promised you a bump pic today. Brad's gone and will be until later tonight, so here's an iPhone pic in the meantime. Forty weeks! Thank you, God, for bringing me to this point! 

Hardheaded Baby: The Final Chapter

First, an appointment update. Then, a little bit about why having a "hardheaded baby" may not be the worst thing in the world.

Dr. Norwood is so darn likeable. I actually enjoy talking to him. This morning we talked about art; he wanted my opinion on some paintings he hanged around the office. It was really flattering and also fun to put my master's degree to use like that!

My blood pressure was really good this week, so after last week's work-related blip, I was pretty relieved. Like I said previously, I'm content to wait as long as I have to for Baby G to be ready for his debut, but I was curious about when Dr. Norwood thought we might expect him. The baby's head was still pretty high at this appointment, which seemed to surprise the doctor. I was expecting him to tell me not to get to attached to 07/25, but toward the end of the appointment he said he gives me another week and a half or so -- which would be exactly 07/25! I expressed surprise, saying I thought I'd go late, and he said there's no reason for him to think I'll go past my due date. He said he usually tries to mentally and emotionally prepare his patients who are obviously way behind, and he's not worried about me. Guess we'll see what happens. I'm still not contracting at all and feeling very comfortable.

I asked Dr. Norwood to level with me: the last three appointments, he has said that the baby's head is exceptionally hard. So I asked him if that means it's going to be more difficult or painful to have the baby. He apologized for scaring me and said no, that the baby's head still hasn't "sutured up," so it will compress and be fine. He also said it may only seem harder because I don't have a lot of body fat compared to some of his other patients, so it's easier to feel the head.

Honestly, I have been a little scared about the head thing. That's why I was really blessed by last Sunday's message at our church, Watermark. Todd talked about when Ezekiel was first called to prophesy, and how God knew it was important that the prophet have a "hard head" in order to reach a "rebellious people":

"I will make your forehead like the hardest stone, harder than flint." (Ezekiel 3:9a, NIV)

Todd made the point that too many "Christians" don't have hard heads; they want to be gentle, loving, and accepting, which is key, but they scrimp on justice. They are afraid to say the things that hurt, even though they are true. Part of love is justice, and the most loving people will not relent for the sake of being "nice" or sparing feelings. They have to have hard heads but soft hearts.

It may sound silly, but I was really encouraged by that message, relating it to my own hardheaded spawn. I don't know what's in store for him, but I have been praying that he will come to know the Lord at an early age, and that he will accept the responsibility God chooses to lay on him. So for the first time, I started thinking about what a cool heritage that is: to be hardheaded from birth!

Fort Worth Staycation

Credit: Fort Worth Convention & Visitors Bureau

I got some good advice a few months ago from a sweet friend, a mother of four who lives with her family in Kyiv, Ukraine. She told me that as she and her husband were awaiting the arrival of their first child, they made a conscious effort to fill up "the love tank," spending lots of quality time together and just being especially loving. Those stores of tenderness and affection carried them through sleepless nights and other challenges that accompany becoming first-time parents, and she encouraged me to be very intentional in my time with Brad so that we can give each other an extra measure of grace and patience when we may not feel like it after Baby G arrives.

That has really stuck with me. Fortunately, Brad has made it very easy to be kind and loving -- he has pretty much been a saint this entire pregnancy -- but I have been consciously trying make these days when our family is "two" count, affirming him, serving him, and doing fun things together, and he's been doing the same in return.

We decided to head to Fort Worth for the weekend to spend more time just having fun and investing in each other and in our marriage. We had a blast! Brad got us a good rate at the Omni on Hotwire, and since they knew this was our "babymoon," they had sparkling grape juice (Martinelli's!) and chocolate covered strawberries waiting for us in our room. We swam, talked to an awesome, older, black couple about civil rights in Dallas in the 1950s and 1960s (the woman had met JFK on the morning he was assassinated!), ate at some very yummy restaurants, walked around Sundance Square, visited the stockyards, peeked in shops, watched movies... We even had a celebrity sighting -- Chef Marcus Samuelsson visited Tim Love's Lonesome Dove while Brad and I were the only diners there! I couldn't believe it.

I loved turning the AC wayyyy down in our hotel room and not worrying about the electricity bill, snacking on macaroons from Central Market, watching HBO, people-watching, and just taking in all that the hotel and our neighbor city had to offer. Not to mention, Brad and I had a great time TOGETHER!

Hormones (?) and an answered prayer

First off, something good: My test results are in and I am negative for gestational diabetes. Assuming I stay that way, I will have a much easier third trimester and delivery than if I had tested positive!

Now. I feel like God has truly spared me from the hormones/mood swings that famously accompany pregnancy. Brad will vouch for me: I have been a pretty cool customer over the last 5.5, almost 6 months. Perhaps more "cool" than usual, even. I've just been so excited and realized HOW MUCH I have to be grateful for, so pickle-flavored-ice-cream-fueled screaming matches haven't even entered the picture. It's like I am more forgiving, and get stressed out LESS easily (as a type-A personality, this is truly God at work).

BUT. Over the last week or so, I have been feeling the walls closing in. Heaps of frustration at work, lots of school work (I don't know how it will all get done, but I just keep telling myself it ALWAYS gets done), and feeling the urge to nest but having to suppress it because I literally don't have time - it's really getting to me. For example, Brad saw that we had a rare free night last week and committed us to a dinner with friends. Totally good intentions on his part. Nice, right? So anyway, when he tells me we're going to dinner, I literally, instantly, burst out into tears, wailing about how I need to write my first of three term papers and it's due next week and I haven't made any progress on it because I've been working every night because of a groundbreaking ceremony and and and... Not a normal reaction, right? I am really wondering if pregnancy hormones are finally catching up to me and making me hyper-emotional.

Today has been especially frustrating. But before this starts to sound like an epic rant, the point of me telling you this is that God just answered prayer. Brad called just as I was hanging up from another (FRUSTRATING) phone call. I told him I feel like nothing has gone right for me today. As I'm walking around the house and talking to him on my cell, I notice our cleaning lady (whom I am appreciative of! Don't get me wrong, I know it's a blessing that we are able to have help a couple of times a month!) has gone home and she left two bags of trash sitting on our back step, rather than taking them to the trash can. So I murmur something like, "Ugh, and now I have to lug the trash to the alley," and in my annoyance, Brad asked if he could pray for me. So he starts praying for my stress level, for my day to improve, etc. Just after he says "Amen," the cleaning lady - who had already driven off - walks around into our back yard and grabs the trash bags. She mouthed through the patio door, "Whoops, forgot these!" and proceeded toward the alley with them.

I was still on the phone with Brad and I started laughing and crying at the same time. God answered prayer QUICKLY, and with a sense of humor!

That was a bright spot in my otherwise terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. :)

On that note, I'd really value your prayers as I navigate some stressful days and nights, which may appear more frustrating to me due to hormones!

Random Updates

Picture I posted to Facebook of my bump at 19 weeks. 

 
Just a random update from the past few weeks. 

I've been feeling definite, strong kicks since before 16 weeks. Some days I think Baby G is practicing to become Lord of the Dance in there, and I love it. (Although in the interest of full disclosure, I finally admitted to Brad that the long Riverdance sessions, reassuring though they are, can get a little annoying when I'm trying to concentrate or sleep. But I know deep down I would not want them to stop.)

I kept trying to get Brad to feel the baby move, and there were a couple of times when he thought he could, but I didn't feel anything at the moments he thought he did. But yesterday I was watching my tummy -- YES, I can see the baby moving in there -- and there were like some solar flare baby movements. Really dramatic kicks that you could see CLEARLY just by looking. So I called Brad over, and he felt the baby for sure! Exciting milestone!

I was also having REALLY bad pain at my navel yesterday. It woke me up at 4 a.m. because the pain was so sharp, and it lasted for most of the day. I couldn't lay on my side without feeling really strong stabbing pains at my belly button. It was so bad at one point that I had to stop working and just lay down. I Googled it (frenemy) and learned that pain like that is normal at this stage. It could be just growing pains, or worst case it could be a herniated navel, but since the pain has let up today, I'm going with the former. Probably just the little pup making room.

Finally, I'm waiting for that awesome head of hair everyone talks about during pregnancy! One friend wrote on Facebook, "If God makes us get fuller and thicker during pregnancy, at least he lets our hair do the same!" Early on my hair was falling out a LOT. I've stopped losing hair, but I still feel like I can't do much with it. Might also be because I got a bad haircut in December and I just need to let that grow out. The result has been lots of ponytails and buns, which is meh, but Brad likes it when I have my hair in a ponytail (he requests it for special occasions - cute, no?), so at least there's that.

It's getting hard when I'm out running errands not to want to buy stuff for the nursery. I'm really waiting until we know if it's a boy or girl (click here to see the nursery inspiration boards I came up with), but I went to Hobby Lobby yesterday to get a mirror for our dining room, and MAN, they had awesome baby stuff and other objets marked 80% off! If only they could do that again next week! I've been hard at work clearing out the guest room. I sold an armoire through Craigslist yesterday, donated my mattress and box springs, and disassembled the bed. I'm now just trying to Craigslist a chair and ottoman, but I have NO TAKERS WHATSOEVER. Maybe I just need to slash the price to nothing (it's currently listed at $50). This weekend I hope to Kilz the red wall.

All in all, this baby is being VERY nice to me. I am grateful. I can't wait until Monday when Dr. Norwood's office does the full anatomical scan.  They'll check the brain, heart, spine, amniotic fluid and more. The gender reveal will be fun, but since it's been eight weeks since we last saw the little one, I'm aching for another glimpse!

Reflecting

Since I haven't shared much about what this new chapter means to me, a few brief thoughts:

To think that God would use us to create a life, an eternal soul--one that we will shepherd and nourish--is nothing short of stunning. I have been feeling so blessed, truly, and there's no other word for it. Feeling so honored that I would be entrusted with this huge responsibility, and wanting to live up to that calling. Sometimes, this feels like the first "grown up" thing I've ever done. And yet I expect this little life to make me more child-like in many ways, too. Already, I am looking at everything and everyone around me differently, with more grace and depth and tenderness, and I know that's not of myself, but it's the work that God has been doing in me for years, and is continuing to do in me as I answer this new calling. It's truly supernatural.


Children are a heritage from the LORD,
   offspring a reward from him.
Like arrows in the hands of a warrior
   are children born in one’s youth.
Blessed is the man
   whose quiver is full of them.
Psalm 127:3-5a