A Letter to Ford on the Eve of His Second Birthday

Disclaimer: Ordinarily I wouldn't publish something so personal, but I wanted to include it as an update to this blog I kept when I was pregnant with Ford. If it sounds braggy, just understand that I intend for Ford to read or reread this a couple of decades from now, and I hope it means something to him then... plus, a mother's pride knows no bounds, so please forgive me!

Comparison of your first and second birthday celebrations

Ford,

As you approach two years, I want to take a moment to write about the sweet, feisty, smart little boy that you are. A challenge in every way, but one of the greatest blessings your dad or I have ever been entrusted with.

I did a miserable job at keeping up your baby book. You and I, we were learning together in that first year. You were adjusting to this world as I was adjusting to being a mom, and God rooted out lots of my selfishness and autonomy through you. During your first year -- especially the first five months, as you were a colicky little babe, crying all day and night long, many times -- I was brought into a greater dependence on our Heavenly Father. At first I would ask him to make you a happier baby. "Lord, please... my friends' babies don't cry like this. I am trying everything (everything!) to get him to stop, and I can't figure out why he is so sad." But you continued to cry and cry. Then I began to pray that the Lord would give me a stronger back and a deeper resolve to be able to "handle you." I asked that I would be up to the challenge. Little by little, the days started to be filled with more smiles (from both of us!) and lots of joy. By the time you were eight months old, we were two peas in a pod. I cherished our "Ford and Mommy time," whether we were just going to the park or playing with blocks or visiting friends.

When you were seven months old, I was laid off from my job as a communications specialist for a medical device company. It was, in many ways, a huge answer to prayer. I received a severance package, but better than that, I was able to spend a few months of focusing on you, my precious boy. I quickly learned, though, that I was a better mom -- more present during my time with you -- when I had at least a little bit of part time work, so I began taking some consulting jobs and would spend your naptimes writing.

When you were almost nine months old, your dad and I took a trip, just the two of us, to China. We wanted to visit your dad's Uncle Steve, who was a pastor in Hong Kong, and we did a tour of the mainland too. You stayed with MeeMee for the first seven days, then Grandmama the last six days. Ohhhh how your dad and I missed you! Your grandmothers would send us pictures and videos of you during the almost two weeks that we were apart. We called it our "Daily Ford," and I would look at the pictures and videos over and over on my iPad. When we came home, it was the sweetest feeling seeing you at the airport and realizing you knew who I was. Grandmama was holding you, then when you saw me, you started kicking your little legs and smiling like a mad man. I held you and you rested your head on my shoulder, and I swear you were hugging me tight. On the car ride from the airport back to our house in southeast Dallas (Ponderosa Way), I sat in back with you. We grinned at each other -- you from your carseat -- and then you grabbed my index finger, put it in your mouth, and started to chew. Suddenly, a tiny tooth broke through your bottom gums! Your first tooth at nine months, and you waited until I was home from China to cut it. Thank you for letting me be a part of that milestone!

As for other milestones, I will record them here for your future wife, as she may want to know what to expect with your own babies. You held your head up a little late, around three months. My guess is that the huge size of your head (you were always off the charts! it's those big brains.) held you back a little on that one. But you made up for it with the other milestones: rolling from tummy to back and back to tummy ahead of schedule, crawling at seven months, walking at 10.5 months. You had the strongest little legs, even when you were a newborn. You didn't like to be held close, and you were happiest when you became mobile, able to crawl and pull up and walk and see the world on your own. My little boy, independent from the very start. We gave you your first solids when you were six months old, having a little "party" to celebrate your first half year of life. I made you big sweet potato chunks with ginger and steamed pears with cinnamon. You loved the pears but didn't care for the sweet potato. We skipped "baby foods" with you (no purees), opting instead to give you whatever we were eating, for the most part. You were a pretty bold eater, and I was grateful, as I love exploring different kinds of cuisines.

You have also proved very verbal from an early age. Your first word (besides babbling things like "da da da") was "no," uttered around eight or nine months while Daddy was giving you a bath. You said "dada" before you said "mama." Daddy was your favorite, favorite person during your first year. When you had me completely puzzled and frantic in those early months, Dad was the only one who could calm you down. He would throw you up in the air, hold you upside down, or bounce you like crazy on his knee -- and you couldn't get enough. When you were born, I didn't get to see or hold you for four hours after the delivery, due to some complications in my recovery. Your dad was the first to hold you, and you two bonded instantly. Seeing him as a father has been such a sweet gift to my heart. You have brought out so much good in us, and we praise God for you and the work that He has already done in our lives through you.

We had a huge birthday party with all of your friends and our families when you turned one. You ate it up! You were such a good host, and all of my friends remarked that you were the only baby they had seen who LOVED being sung the happy birthday song; other babies would freak out and cry. Your favorite part, predictably, was the giant sprinkle cake I had made you. Right before you turned one, we learned we were expecting your baby sister, Vivi. That caused me to be very intentional about spending time with your during your second year (age 1), as we anticipated her arrival and as I prepared to lost the one-on-one time you and I had enjoyed to that point.


Your favorite toys during your second year (age 1) were BOOKS, counting toys, and anything related to the ABCs. You knew all of your ABCs by 17 months and could spell your name by 20 months. You would say, "F-O-R-D! Ford! Datshur name, Ford!" (that's your name, Ford!). You also love your colors and shapes, calling stop signs "octagons" or "stop octagons." You had just turned 19 months when you said your first full (multi-word) sentence: "God made bellybuttons." You would repeat Genesis 1:1, "God made the heavens and the earth," after us, but one day, on your own, you ran into the kitchen where your dad and I were sitting and said very emphatically, "God" (pointing to the sky)... "made" (molding something with your hands)... "BELLYBUTTONS!" (pulling up your shirt). We put you in Mother's Day Out at 22 months. Your teachers at MDO and at Sunday School at Watermark were astonished at how bright you were ("He can count to 20! He can spell his name!"), and I would beam with pride as they would tell me how exceptional you were. I began praying that you would not consider yourself wise in the world's eyes, but use your gifts for God's glory, remain humble, and love others before yourself.

You had a strong will like I can't even describe. Some of our biggest battles were over naptime, getting dressed, taking baths, getting in your carseat... Basically, if it wasn't your idea, you didn't want to do it! I started to dread taking you to the park, because unfailingly, you would throw a GIANT tantrum when it was time to leave. Your dad and I keep telling each other that a strong will is not necessarily a bad thing; we just need to help you channel your resolve into doing good things and building others up. We often remind you of the three L's: Continuously LEARN, step up and LEAD, and bring LIFE to others. Over and over these days we encourage you to "bring life to others." Your dad, similarly, puts you to bed every night by telling you the five S's: Step up, Speak up, Stand firm, Stay humble and Serve the King. You invariably chant those commands along with him, which warms my heart like I can't even describe. I pray that as you grow you don't just know these words, but that you will truly apply them and make them your own.

Still, I tell myself that although I could do without the tantrums and the battles of the will, I am blessed to have a child who loves others and whom others love in return. When we walk through Watermark, I swear more people know you than me! Your Sunday School teachers and other childcare workers wave to you and call you by name. Your best friend at this age is Caleb Rodgers, a playgroup friend and such a sweet, feisty, smart boy as well. You two met when you were just a couple of weeks old! You two are birds of a feather, and Caleb's mom and I will often laugh as we compare notes and find that you two will both skip naps the same day, throw fits over mealtimes on the same day, and more. You and Caleb call each other "dude," then giggle hysterically.  You frequently wake up and ask to go to "dude's house."

We did a lot to help prepare you for Vivi's birth. We read books about being a big brother and talked a lot about the new baby. I had one of my old baby dolls, and we'd talk about how we need to be gentle with babies, we don't touch their eyes, etc. I expected Vivi to cry as much as you did when you were born, and I was afraid that might upset you, so we told you that babies cry to tell us what they need: diaper changes, milk, sleep, etc. When Vivi was born on March 29, 2013, you were 19 months old and could not have been more excited and more sweet. We had taken you to our neighbors' house, and you were happy to spend the night with Grampa Don and Grammy Carol (Mathus) until MeeMee and Pop arrived from Boerne. When you first met Vivi in the hospital room at Baylor UMC Dallas, you wanted to get a closer look, so you were placed in bed with me to say hello to this baby, your sister. You just grinned from ear to ear. Eventually you demanded to "hold her," and I helped you support her as you sat in my lap. When it was finally time to leave, you were devastated, and you wanted to take Vivi with you. Before you left, I gave you a set of Hot Wheels cars and a helicopter, and that helped soothe the sting of having to say goodbye. We brought Vivi home on Easter Sunday, and you loved having so much of your family around -- MeeMee and Pop, Uncle Matt and Aunt Brittney, Uncle Brett and his girlfriend Hannah. You also got to visit with Great Uncle Brett and Great Aunt Penny and their dog Lucky, which you thought was great fun.



Around this time, we sold our first house and prepared to move to our house on Yamini Drive in Dallas. We were packing for a move, caring for a newborn and then you were sick with EVERYTHING for about three weeks straight. You had been SO HEALTHY up until this point, but suddenly you got ear infections in both ears (your first ear infections!), a horrendous stomach virus, pink eye in both eyes, hand foot and mouth disease... It was ridiculous! Since we were so preoccupied and you were sick, you started watching TV. Elmo was your favorite, but you loved the movies Finding Nemo and Cars. You also adored Blue's Clues and Dora the Explorer. It was also around this time that you started to say "MY [fill in the blank]!" whether it was "My iPad!" or "My car!" or "My cup!" You also began your constant refrain of "MY DO IT!" to let us know that you did NOT want help with something. I can sense that we are getting closer to two years of age! You love all things with wheels and have started making your Little People toys have conversations, which usually go something like this: "Hewwo! [How] are you? Good. That's silly, boy. Don't cry. Later!" You are constantly looking for ways to serve me and Vivi, bringing me my shoes and insisting I put them on, finding Vivi's paci and putting it in her mouth, taking our cordless vacuum and pushing it around the kitchen while exclaiming, "Mess, mama!" This morning as I was tidying the kitchen, you told me, "Good job clean up, Mama!"

You love spending time outdoors, riding your Spiderman Bicycle, Lightning McQueen car, playing T-ball, playing with your sand and water table, swimming, watering the plants... Your FAVORITE is being outdoors at night. You will search the sky until you find the moon and say with incredible enthusiasm, "MOON, mama! That's a moon!" During the day you'll look up at the sky from the car window and say, "Sun... clouds... No moon. There's no moon, mama." Funny enough, you were born facing upward -- a variation from the typical position of most newborns, who face downward. I've heard that babies who are born in that occiput posterior position like you are called "stargazers" in some cultures. That is certainly you, my Ford: a stargazer, or perhaps a "moongazer."

My prayer for you as you begin your third year (age 2) is that you will come to know Christ at an early age, and not just a head knowledge, but a true heart love and gratitude for the gift of His life and a desire to become like Him. May you not seek to become wise in the world's eyes, but to serve the King and serve others before yourself. I ask that God shapes your character and conforms your will so that your determination is channeled into things that build others up and bring life to others. You are such an exceptional boy. As I stroke your forehead and your cheeks during your sleepiest moments, I marvel at the fact that I am your mother. What a sweet, undeserved gift that is. I love you, my precious boy.   

Thank you, thank you Lord, for giving me my Ford. You are a good, good God.

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

 

Baby Ford is Here!

David Bradford "Ford" Gaultney, III entered our world on July 31, 2011, at 4:39 p.m. Weighing 7 lbs., 7 oz. and measuring 20 inches long, this tiny man has totally wrecked our hearts. We are unbelievably smitten. It's a good thing he's so cute and loveable... otherwise we might actually notice how little we're sleeping. :)

More details soon, including Ford's birth story, which is an incredible testament to prayer. Spoiler alert: No C-section!

For now, enjoy a few photos.

Discouragement

I'm not really sure what to post right now. Lots of emotions, and I want to be careful about how I express them. But I will just say my appointment with Dr. Norwood this morning was very discouraging. For the first time ever, we didn't have any lighthearted chit-chat. No levity at all, really. The doctor was very concerned that I am three days "over my due date" and yet I still don't have any signs of labor. In fact, the baby moved upward from last week (he's at minus 3 station). So, opposite of progress.

We talked about a number of options, and I don't want to get into the details, but the bottom line is that he is afraid I am going to have to have a C-section. Of course, this is the ONE THING that I want to avoid more than anything else, and it has been one of my biggest prayers -- that I will not have to have a C-section. In fact, I chose Dr. Norwood because his C-section rate is so low. But he's giving me the impression that it may be inevitable if nothing changes by this time next week, and he's not confident that it will change.

I asked all the right questions and appropriately objected, saying I will go as long as I can unless it's not safe for the baby. We're going in for a "biophysical profile" early next week to make sure there's still enough amniotic fluid and try to determine if there's a reason the baby hasn't dropped. From there I will have a better idea of how we're going to proceed.

In the meantime, I am asking all of you to pray that labor will start on its own. I'm not on board with the idea of an induction, either, though Dr. Norwood -- who prefers not to induce as well -- said that an induction at this point is almost a given. I will go for that if I absolutely have to, but C-section... it just breaks my heart thinking about it. So please, please... join me in praying that the baby will move downward like he should and that things will get kick-started into action.

I trust that the Sovereign God, Adonai Yahweh, can make labor start at any time. I also know that if it is a part of his plan, for some reason, that I have a C-section, that will come to pass. But I am asking in faith that he will allow me to have the kind of birth experience I have envisioned. Anything but a C-section. I'm grateful to have had a dream pregnancy to this point, but I am feeling really defeated right now after meeting with the doctor. So thank you in advance for lifting up this need.

"I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted." Job 42:2

"Only I can tell you the future before it even happens. Everything I plan will come to pass, for I do whatever I wish." Isaiah 46:10

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:22-23

"Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him." Isaiah 30:18

"Let your mercy, O Lord, be upon us, just as we hope in you." Psalm 33:22

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! 

Random Updates IV

Again with the random updates. None of these topics really warrants its own post, but I have much to share! (Scroll down for an appointment update from this morning, if you're interested.)

I.  Birthday

Tuesday was my birthday. I have always been very possessive of July 19... I LOVE birthdays -- mine and others' -- and I didn't want to share that day, even with my precious baby (I should say, I didn't want him to have to share it with me... right...)! So I was relieved when the day came and went with nary a sign of labor. It was a great day, centered mostly around food, which is just how I like it. Brad brought me breakfast in bed, then we braved the crowd and had In-N-Out Burger for lunch (one just opened in Dallas), and we went to our favorite sushi place in Deep Ellum for dinner. In between I worked, Brad and I took a walk, we visited Preston Center and window shopped, and generally just enjoyed spending time together. I got lots of calls, emails, texts, and Facebook messages, which made my whole day really special!

II.  Dream

So far I've been pretty lucky not to have insane pregnancy dreams or nightmares. I've had a small handful, including two dreams where I gave birth to a Treasure Troll. But the dream I had a few days ago takes the cake. First of all, I've had a few totally unreasonable pregnancy fears, like that our baby has really short (toothpick-sized) legs, since I can't feel him kicking in my ribs like I would expect. I also had a fleeting fear that the baby doesn't have ears, since I have never seen ears in his ultrasound videos or pictures and he doesn't really react to loud noises. And finally, I keep thinking, "What if it's not a boy we're having after all -- what if it's a girl?" because I haven't had an ultrasound since our gender reveal at 20 weeks, and they could have gotten it wrong.

That may explain why I dreamed that not only did I have the baby and it was a female, but she also had a full-grown woman's face and a Prince Valiant haircut like Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men. And she was talking to me and apologizing for not being a boy, like we expected. I was HORRIFIED in my dream and ripped out my IV and left the labor & delivery room. It's not like I don't WANT a girl, but we're "prepared" for a boy, so I woke up in a panic.

III.  Vanity

It's hard to look or feel beautiful at 39+ weeks pregnant. A few people have asked why I stopped doing "Bump Chronicles" posts after 35.5 weeks. Part of it, honestly, is that I packed up the camera and all its cords several weeks ago when I packed our hospital bag. But I also feel bad asking Brad to take the pictures (he hates doing that kind of thing -- totally not a historian), and whenever it's convenient (first thing in the morning or last thing at night), my hair is usually messed up and I'm not wearing makeup. I plan to take one on Monday though (due date).

Also, probably due to a combination of HEAT (more on that later) and hormones, I am fighting a vicious battle against acne. It's like the first trimester all over again! I'm washing my face at least three times a day and using copious amounts of benzoil peroxide to keep from being broken out like a 15-year-old when I meet my son. More than you wanted to know? You're welcome.

IV.  Activity Level

Mine and the baby's... I think I'm "over" the nesting thing. There were a couple of weeks there when the urge to tidy, organize and create was virtually uncontrollable, but now I'd rather go for a walk or read or watch a movie than spend an evening organizing and reorganizing the pantry. And that's probably healthy at this point.

The baby continues to move a LOT. One thing I can't figure out is this sort of slow flicking, clicking sensation I feel near his head. The best I can imagine is that he's grasping, like opening and closing his hands. It's SO weird to be able to sense those things. I am sure he's been making those movements for a while now, but I guess he's run out of room to the point that I can feel most everything.

V.  Heat

I mentioned recently that it bothers me when people make disparaging comments under the guise of being funny or wise, like when they tell me I'm never going to sleep again, so enjoy it now. A close runner-up in annoyance is the people who just seem to have such pity for me... strangers at church who will shake my hand, ask when I'm due, then say, "Ohhhh, I bet you're just MISSSSERABLE." Or, "Ohhh honey, to be nine months pregnant in this heat! I would not want to be you right now!" And again, I just think what I always think, which is that being pregnant -- and having a healthy, comfortable pregnancy -- is such a blessing and a privilege. I would not change a thing!
 
That said, I do thank God for air conditioning, as it seems we are having a doozy of a summer! I read this week that Dallas is experiencing its hottest summer since 1980, making it the second-hottest summer in 100 years! We're on our 20th or 21st consecutive day of 100+ degree temperatures, with the highest temperatures reaching 107 (that's actual heat, too -- not heat index). And get this -- my due date, July 25, is historically the HOTTEST day of the year in Dallas! Why do I get the feeling our baby is going to be a little firecracker?

Can't wait to meet him!

Baby's Still Cookin'!

Today's Thursday, which means I had another appointment this morning. Today is also the first day I can honestly say I feel nine months pregnant. After not sleeping well on Tuesday night, then not sleeping at all last night, I have a pretty gnarly headache and am feeling just really "meh." (And yes, this is probably some sort of cosmic payback for saying I don't require much sleep. I really don't require MUCH, but I would like SOME.)

Nevertheless, Dr. Norwood and I had a very nice visit, as we always do. We talked about birthdays (he's a July baby too!), weekend plans, Netflix, and other random stuff. Then I asked him to give me the scoop on the doctor who will be on call this weekend, just in case I go into labor. Dr. N insisted that I am not allowed to have the baby this weekend because he wants to deliver it. I want him to, too, but a girl's got to be prepared!

The heartbeat was strong and steady at 147 bpm. The doctor said Baby G sounds very healthy and comfortable in there. My belly size is measuring exactly on schedule. Then he felt for the head, and...

THE BABY STILL HAS NOT DROPPED! 

I want to make it very clear that I'm okay with this, but it is surprising. His head is still high -- I felt it and was able to push it upward. He said the baby is at "minus 2 station," which I think means he's about halfway to the cervix (see illustration above). So despite that last week the doctor didn't think I would go past my due date, now he guesses baby has about another week in there. Which, if accurate, would be EXACTLY what I have predicted since our first appointment with Dr. Norwood -- July 28. But we'll see. None of us has a crystal ball, of course! I'm still totally cool with letting the baby hang out for as long as he needs to until he is ready. I actually find it really motivating that the baby signals for labor to begin, not me; it's like we're working together. His little body will send a message to my body and then things will get going when the time is right! God is an amazing planner and designer!

Dr. N said that once the baby does drop, he would expect the onset of labor to happen pretty quickly for me, since everything else is progressing like he would want it to. But there's no telling when that will be.

In the meantime, I would like to try to sneak in a nap! I think I'll block off an hour on my calendar to try to snooze during lunch. Wish me luck!