Busy with Nothing

 I quit my job about 3.5 months ago. Brennan got a new job, making more money than me, and I was due with a baby in a couple of months. I didn't want to cut back and lose maternity leave, and I didn't want to stay full-time and try to find daycare, so I quit. 

Before I quit, I was the breadwinner, something I think a lot of women in the area I live haven't experienced. And it felt, really, really good. I love being a nurse. I am passionate about my field of work. I loved my coworkers. Almost every shift was exciting and fulfilling. I am grateful to be home too, and be with my babies. But it isn't easy. 

Someone recently asked me what I do all day... I just kind of sat there, blankly staring for a minute. 

"Well, I just take care of the girls. I cook. I clean. I change a lot of diapers. I nurse. I rock a colicky baby. I play with a toddler.... occasionally I sneak in a show for myself, or read, or journal, but not usually." 

I know it isn't something I should feel ashamed of, but I do sometimes. I feel so damn busy, and I have nothing to really show for it. Like, I honestly feel like I killed it if I get all three of us dressed and ready at some point in the day. 

Every once in awhile though I get these moments, where the heavens seem to smile down, and I see just what all of my "nothingness" is doing. 

Olive grins at me. 

Maggie tells me a letter I taught her a week ago. 

The sun shines trickles through the windows of our home and it feels so peaceful amidst the chaos, and I think all of that actually has something to do with me, and what I'm doing. 

So today, I chose to ignore the dirty house and the toddler singing in her room when she should be napping, and write down these thoughts. 

I might not be doing anything but putting out fires, but someone has got to do it. And I feel glad that it's me.

April Showers and a Birth Story

Well, March really got away from me. I'm happy to say that even though I wasn't able to create something every day, the overall goal for the month of being more creative did my soul some real good. This month I have some more concrete goals that focus around gardening, spiritual growth, and a busy book for my daughter.

April is busy for us. It is my birthday month and my sweet baby's birthday month! She is going to be ONE! I thought today, that I would take a moment to write about her birth story. I always like reading these things, so I figured it would be fun to write about.

Around this time last year, I started having practice labor. For weeks I would have time-able and decent contractions, and not just when I was walking. They weren't totally consistent, and I was able to talk through them most of the time though.

However, at 39 weeks pregnant I was 2-3 cm and about 80% effaced, so my midwife offered to strip my membranes. I was ready to be done being pregnant, so I agreed. The 48 hours after my membrane stripping were basically nonstop contractions every 3-10 minutes. I barely slept and I was emotionally exhausted. After those two days, my contractions COMPLETELY stopped. It was weird, but I figured I'd be overdue, and I was okay with that.

After my 24 hour break, I started having stronger contractions about 5 minutes apart at about 10 pm. I hopped in the shower and my husband called the hospital. They told me to wait until they were consistent and strong. I had so much practice labor, that I decided to go to bed, and sent my husband to bed too. Around 3:30 am, I was woken by strong contractions. I timed them and tried to fall back asleep, but every 3 minutes, another contraction would happen. I got up and decided to take a warm bath to see if that helped. Two more contractions, and I knew this was the real deal. I packed what I still needed to pack between contractions, and then I woke up my husband and said "hey, can you drive me to the hospital?"

When I arrived at the hospital, you could tell they were busy, and I was handling the contractions well, so they probably thought I wasn't in labor. But they checked, and I was already 5 cm. They asked if I wanted an epidural. I said eventually, but I was okay for now. I got back in the shower and hummed my way through contractions. When I got out of the shower, I was feeling even stronger contractions. They checked me again and I was 7-8 cm. I decided that if I was going to have to push for a long time, I would need some rest, so I asked for an epidural. 

The anesthesiologist was quick and efficient. We made jokes through the whole thing and I got immediate relief. I asked for the lowest dose and said I would still like to be able to feel contractions. He said I shouldn't be able to feel them, and to ask for another dose if I could. The epidural felt pretty light. I still breathed through contractions, but felt relaxed. They were more like light menstrual cramps. 

Nurses came in again, and checked me. I was 9 cm. My midwife asked to break my water, and I agreed. I had a rim still, so they put me on whats called a "peanut ball." It looks like this: 

It helps with dilating the cervix. After about 15-30 minutes of that, they came back and I was complete and ready to push. I ended up pushing for an hour and 40 minutes. I felt a whole lot of pressure, and some pain, and even the "ring of fire" which makes me think my epidural might have partially worn off. But it really wasn't bad at all. At 11:40 am, Maggie was born. She came out screaming, pink, and got a perfect APGAR score at 5 minutes. She's been an overachiever like that ever since.

I remember thinking she was surprisingly cute for a newborn. Her head looked good, and she had rolls. She latched right on to breastfeed, and never had a single issue. I mean, I never even chaffed. That's the kind of kid Maggie is though. She just seems to get things without really trying. I didn't know it then, but I was getting a very easy child. She is sweet, and funny, and I would go through pregnancy and labor over and over just to get her. 

I love her completely, and I am so grateful that her birth story is a happy one.