The Name Game

The other day, Dan and were having lunch with a mutual colleague and friend. She asked us if we had any nicknames for Linus, and once we started rattling off our list, we realized it was quite extensive!

Here are some of the alternate names that Linus has gone by on and off since being born:

 

Honey Bee (his very first nickname that I've been using since he was few hours old... now I feel all sentimental thinking of his sweet newborn snuggles)

Little Bug, Bug, and The Bug (probably the nickname we use the most)

Bug-a-boo

Buggy Baby

Tubby Little Buggy all Stuffed with Fluff

Buddy (of course! this one's a classic)

Bubba

Little Liney/Wittle Winey ("Little Liney, bright and shiney, you don't have to be so whiney!")

Lionel (this one came from my sister and has been another nickname that's "stuck" - at least for her - since very early on)

L-Dawg (or if he's particularly sassy, L Dawgy Dawg)

Goober

Goob

Goob-Dawg (we're fond of the "dawg" thing over here; or maybe that's just me...?)

Booger

Boogery Bob (a recent addition, due to teething and colds and the overall boogery-ness of winter)

Sweet Potato Head

Little Giggle Baby

Captain Poopy Pants

I'm sure I'm missing a few; we're all about the goofy nicknames in our household. It's a wonder this boy has managed to figure out which name is the "real" one through all of this other silly gibberish.

What's your take on nicknames? Does your little one have an ever-growing list like Linus, or do you stick to his or her real name?

Sleep and the 5 Stages of Grief

Thankfully, as I said, Linus is slowly beginning to sleep more during the night. But, that whole not sleeping thing that comes as a package deal with parenthood is rough. It has probably been the biggest adjustment for me since welcoming Linus into the world. Ask almost anyone who knows me, and they will tell you that this mama loves her sleep, with a capital "loves".

I went through a mourning process when I had to say good-bye to it for a while. And, I continued to mourn it night after night, because that's the thing about sleep - you need it every night, and every night that you don't get it is hard. I really think I kept cycling through the five stages of grief (and still do some weeks... oy).

So, I've written a handy-dandy guide for other new moms (and dads, too!) to help you recognize if you're mourning the loss of sleep and how to complete the cycle so you can move on to acceptance:

Denial

You've just dozed off. Suddenly, you're abruptly awoken when your hyper-active parent sense starts tingling and you hear those first, soft utterances - a whine, a coo, a cough - through the monitor. But you ignore it. It's a fluke! The baby can't possibly be awake yet. Somehow thinking your movements and noises will have an affect on the baby from one room over, you lay as still a possible and breath softly in an attempt not to stir them further.

Then it happens again. This time, louder.

You groan. You shake your head "no". You tense up. You'd just gotten comfortable... the baby can't be waking up yet. He just can't be.

Anger

The whine turns into a cry. No more denying it. He's up.

You open your bloodshot eyes and feel a small sense of rage at being pulled so unapologetically from your slumber. The baby's cries start to sound like nails on a chalk board. You throw off the comforter and stomp toward the nursery, possibly slamming the door on your way out.

Your anger may escalate with each subsequent wake up call. There might be profanity involved.

Bargaining

After calming your baby, he is finally nursed, settled, dry, cozy and snoozing in your arms. You sigh, finally seeing sleep in your very near future.

You lay him down, ever-so-gently into the crib, so as not to disturb.

But... as soon as he hits the mattress, his eyes pop wide open. He  may start to cry again, or he may start to giggle at you, ready to play (jury is out on which reaction is actually worse in the middle of the night...).

You try again with shushing, bouncing, and rocking, but to no avail. You try bringing him into bed with you and settling in together. This lasts about for about 30 seconds (just long enough to feel sleep begin to set in) when he starts scratching your face and climbing you. You get up and use your very best baby settling techniques with minimal effect.

You are growing ever more sleepy by the second and want nothing more than to curl up like a big toasty cinnamon bun in your bed.

You glance at the clock and realize it's been nearly two hours since your started this process and you begin to feel desperate. Precious nighttime hours are dwindling.  In an act of desperation, you find yourself begging and pleading with your baby to "please, please, please, for the love of God, just GO TO SLEEP!".

Depression

The baby, completely ignoring your desperate pleas and possible attempts at exhausted logic, is still staring at you with nary a hint of sleepiness in their eyes. Your over tiredness and frustration begin to overtake you. You might feel like you're never going to sleep again. You may look outside and see the dark windows of your neighbors homes and think you are the only person in whole world who is awake. There may or may not be tears.

Acceptance

Sooner or later, the sun comes up and brings with it clarity. There's nothing else you can do tonight. You've exhausted your resources and are past the point of exhaustion yourself. You call it a night and move on to your first cup of coffee for the day while patting yourself on the back for making it through another sleepless night with (most of) your sanity in tact. Your baby smiles and snuggles with you and turns on the cute, just high enough so that you forget your anger and depression, and reminds you that the sleepless nights really are worth it. You begin to feel new hope, but still mentally begin the count down to nap time...

Congratulations! The cycle is complete.

Linus in the Snow - What a Saucy Fellow

On Friday, we got some snow. Nothing crazy, but about an inch stuck. Enough to take Linus out for his very first snow experience!

Saturday morning, after his nap, I got him bundled up in his snowsuit, a la Randy from a Christmas Story:

He was, surprisingly, not too bothered by this puffy monstrosity (a consignment find I've had since October).

We got outside, I sat him down in the fluffy, white, cold stuff and waited for a reaction. It was first time in the snow! I expected: glee! wonderment! joy! laughter! something!

What I got was this:

He looked at the snow. Looked up and down the street. And then just sat there, not moving, and looking about as impressed with the whole situation as McKayla Maroney.

So, we hung out outside for all of 10 minutes while I threw snowballs and rolled around on the ground, giggling - trying to show him all the fun he was missing - until he got bored/cold and started whining. I think it took me longer to wrestle him into the snowsuit.

Oh well. There's always next year!

Yes, I Use Cloth Diapers. No, It's not Gross.

Well, okay, I'll admit, sometimes it is gross. But, not any more gross than using disposables. The common denominator here is poop. And no matter what kind of diaper you use, your baby will still poop in it (plus, did you know that even when you use disposables you're still supposed to scrape the poop into the toilet? True fact).

So, why did I decide to let my baby poop in cloth?

I'm going to skip going into much detail about the two main reasons that inspire many families to go cloth. One being to lessen their environmental impact, and the other being cost savings. Of course, these played a major role in our decision making since I lean towards the crunchy side of life, and love saving money (shout to saving $1,500 from birth to potty training with cloth! And even more with subsequent kidlets since you can keep using the diapers. That makes me want to raise the roof).

But, there are other, perhaps lesser known and/or frivolous reasons to choose cloth diapers:

No Chemicals

There is a reason that disposables diapers are so absorbent. There are some crazy chemicals in those things! Think about this for a second: would you want to have chemicals sitting intimately against one of your most sensitive areas 24 hours a day? Yuck-o, man. That, at least to me, is even more gross than that whole poop thing.

Comfort

Maybe we don't actually know the answer to this, but I would be quick assume that cloth diapers feel nicer on little bums. I did another "put yourself in their shoes" scenario for this. Personally, paper and plastic don't make the list of materials that I'd want my own underwear made out of, so why would I wrap Linus up in them?

They are flipping CUTE

Yup, this one is totally shallow. But, seriously, how can you resist a sweet, little cloth-covered bum? Just look at my favorite bum up there in the header. Too cute! They come in pretty colors and adorable patterns. You can coordinate them to your baby's outfit. In the summer time, all you need to do is slap on a diaper and - presto! - they're dressed for the day! I'd be lying if I said the cute-ness factor didn't play into my decision.

Although, I could also argue that maybe this reason will shrink that $1,500 savings a bit because buying cloth diapers can become a bit of an addiction  especially when one of your favorite brands releases a new print (I'm looking at you, Best Bottoms. It's the end of January, but I'm still drooling over the Mistletoe diaper. See also: Thirsties, Scottish Storm and Blackbird).

Less Diaper Rash

Diaper rash sucks. Linus has certainly not been immune to it (thanks, teething...), but he's never gotten a rash that hasn't cleared up in a day or two. In general, the reasons babies in cloth often get less rashes are because they tend to be changed more frequently than with disposables, and the fabrics are more breathable.  Three cheers for rash-free booties!

Fewer Poop-splosions

These things hold in the gross-ness in like WHOA. After nearly a year of cloth diapering, I can only remember one instance of poop-leaking-ness, and that was when L-dawg was about 4 weeks old. Everything else since then has been contained.

Crash Pad

Now that Linus is pulling up and cruising like it's his job (and walking isn't too far in the future - eep!), the fluff gives him a built-in soft place to land when he let's go and crashes down on his boot.

Harder to Escape

We're not quite there yet, but I know the day is coming when Linus will be trying to rip his diaper off. I have already foiled this exploit preemptively - with snaps! So much harder to break free from than with tape.

Side note and bonus tip: Yes, you can also buy diapers with aplix (Velcro) closures  but, in my humble opinion, snaps are far superior to aplix. Partly because they lessen this risk of Linus running around naked in an inappropriate situation, and partly because they can't wear out the way aplix does (even when you fasten it to the laundry tabs, everything still gets stuck to it).

It's Easy - Really!

There's this thing that happens when you are pregnant and starting to make decisions about how to feed/diaper/parent your child. You suddenly have a big, blinking sign above your head that says "Please Give Me Advice and Question All My Choices". So, when I started telling people that we wanted to use cloth diapers, I got the whole "yeah, okay, we'll see how long that lasts" and "isn't that time consuming/hard/nasty?" from a host of folks.

But, I'm here to tell those people that questioned me, especially now that I have more experience, that it really is pretty gosh darn simple. Modern diapers come in a variety of options to fit your lifestyle and preferences (wow, did I just sound like a commercial there, or what?), and can be as easy as snap-on and snap-off. Of course, there's the laundry thing, which, admittedly, threw me for a loop for maybe a week or so because of my chronic avoidance of housework and lack of organization, but once it becomes routine, it ain't no 'thang. And there's just something about a drying rack full of pretty diapers that makes the extra laundry almost, kind of fun.

So, there you have it! My reasons for cloth diapering. If you cloth diaper, let me know if there's any fluffy goodness that I missed. And if you don't, let me know if you have any questions about cloth! I'm far from an expert, but after 10.5 months, I've got at least some good cloth knowledge in this scattered brain of mine.

Why Hello! Let's Try Again.

Oh, hi there.

Somewhere between balancing work, and an increasingly active little one, as well as trying to keep up with house work (who am I kidding? I don't do housework...) and sleep, I've forgotten my humble blog... since... September. Oops! I need my outlet in my tiny corner of the interwebs back.

So let's kick things off (again... I know...) with an update about the little Goober (since I claim to be a mommy-blogger these days and all; seems appropriate, right?). Last I left you, he was just starting to roll over. And now that's, like, so 5 months ago. Rolling? Psh! That's for amateurs. Now he's crawling, pulling, up, and cruising! My little blob of a baby is beginning his transition into toddler-hood (which, p.s., um... yikes! I'm still getting that hang of this baby thing over here. Can we slow it down for a hot second?).

Since September he's been through four (!!!) major holidays, which of course are big firsts in the life of a baby. Linus celebrated Halloween as R2D2, he feasted on deep fried turkey with all the trimmings at Thanksgiving, and we celebrated our butts off the whole week between Christmas and New Year with both sides of the family, despite some sickness and teething (speaking of which, he's up to 6 teeth now, and I can officially declare that teething is dumb and awful).

Linus has also reached double digit months (he's 10 months as of January 14!), which means we're racing toward the one year mark a little too quickly. You know how time just keeps getting speedier the older you get? It jumps into warp speed once you start raising offspring.

Of course, being so precariously close to the one year mark also means that I've also been diving head first into first birthday planning! Oh yes. Really, it's going to be quite low-key, and low-budget but it's also going to be AWESOME. I'll be posting more on that later. so I'll keep the details at a minimum. Really, I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that this time last year I was still (ginormously) pregnant and planning for my new arrival, and now I'm almost the mother of a one year old. One year olds seem like something for more experienced mothers. Surely, I can't be among those ranks yet? I can't think about it too much, so instead I'm diverting my attention to guest lists, finding the perfect e-vite, menu planning, and all the fun little details that will make it a special day for Linus. (Han Burgers and Boba Fet-a Pizza, anyone? Ok, that's a pretty obvious hint at the theme).

But, enough about party planning...

Probably the most enjoyable thing over the past few months has been watching his personality really begin to emerge. He is curious. He loves to explore. He loves to laugh. He does not like to sit still AT ALL (which has made diaper changes all the more interesting). The kid LOVES to eat. For the most part, he is a pretty chill dude, but if he is upset, he will certainly let you know! He is wary of crowds, but he loves one-on-one interactions. We're still working on the whole sleep thing, but it's getting better, little by little. He has toys that he prefers over others (when he actually plays with his actual toys and not electrical wires, trash cans, bottles of lotion, and any other number of random choking hazards). His smile and laugh are infectious and he is quite the charmer.

Not to allude you that it's all goodness all the time. Motherhood isn't all sunshine and rainbows. There are the days that make me want to tear my hair out, especially when he's busy with those electrical cords, but all in all, most days he is busy finding new ways to make me a proud mama and being an all around cutie pie.

And now you're all caught up in the life of Linus! Until at least tomorrow, when he'll shock me with another new trick.

These are the Moments

There are certainly days when having a baby is trying. Days when I start to wonder what the heck we were thinking when Dan and I decided it would be a good idea to produce offspring. You know those days - you only slept for (what feels like) a total of 30 mins spread out over the last five days, your baby is fussing screaming for no apparent reason, your home looks like an episode of Hoarders because nothing is put away, you can't remember that last time you showered or brushed your teeth, and your patience is spread thinner than the very last bit of peanut butter over a piece of toast.

But, then something happens that is so endearing it makes you want 10 more sweet, cuddly babies in your life.

This morning, after getting out of (a much needed) shower, I saw possibly the most adorable, heart-warming site I could ever wish for:

Dan was sitting on the floor in the living room, staring down at Linus, who was sound asleep. And he was quietly humming You Are My Sunshine. It was beautiful; almost dream-like. I swear I saw it with slightly muted colors and blurred edges, and of course, with the sun rays streaming perfectly through the windows. It was just what I needed. My heart exploded with glee and suddenly, the rough days we had earlier this week didn't seem so bad.

These are the moments that you live for as a parent. The moments that remind you how dear family is and, more importantly, the moments bring you back to earth and keep you sane.

And now, just because I love them, a few gratuitous photos of my husband and my baby:

Ah... my blog is already woefully behind. The reason? We are seriously lacking in sleep in the Welding household (in case you couldn't tell by that first paragraph). Hopefully, I'll be more awake and back to a regular posting schedule soon!

They See Me Rollin'

Linus has been thisclose to rolling over a good month. Each day during tummy time, we waited with baited breath as he rocked, wobbled, and Super Man-ed about, holding up that giant baby head of his.

He is full of surprises, though.

Instead of that belly to back nonsense that we were sure was just about to happen, Linus decided it would be more fun to whip out some baby gymnastics (practically out of nowhere) and go from back to belly first.

We're still waiting on him to go in reverse. Tummy time is still full of anticipation. I'll report back on that soon.

Giraffes vs. Elephants

I've been inadvertantenly setting Linus up to be unsure about the difference between giraffes and elephants. Apparently, I can't seem to keep these two mammals straight these days! Or, perhaps I think giraffes are elephants in disguise? Either way, I keep catching myself referring to all of his giraffe toys as elephants. Oddly, I haven't had the opposite issue. Why? I have absolutely no idea.

Whatever it is, I can't seem to stop, even when I am actively putting all my brain power into remembering the proper name for those long-necked, brown and yellow animals every time I reach for Sophie. And, sometimes, it still comes out as "elephant".

Hopefully, I'll do better at teaching him the rest of the animals!

This Time Last Year

This time last year I was giddy, anxious, excited, overwhelmed, overjoyed, fatigued, nauseous, exhilerated, and so many other things.

This time last year I was newly pregnant. I knew, Dan knew, a random Physician's Assistant who stitched Dan's finger knew, my sister may have known by this point, but that was all. It was a fun (and difficult!) a secret to keep. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

This time last year, we were just beginning the adventure of a lifetime. We felt wholly prepared for this moment, and wholly unprepared at the same time. There was abundant joy at knowing that there was life growing inside of me. But, I was also a nervous wreck. Life as we knew it was about to change forever. Were we really ready? Is anyone ever really ready to become a parent?

This time last year, our pregnancy was underwraps for nine long weeks until after my first pre-natal appointment. After that, we slowly let the joy overflow, first letting our parents in on the secret (with hilariously endearing reactions from all of them), then our siblings, then close friends, and more then distant friends and acquaintances.

This time last year, we didn't even know Linus yet. It seems almost unbelievable that there was a time when he wasn't in our lives. We didn't know if we would become parents to a little boy or a little girl. We didn't know anything about our baby's personality. But, even with so many unknowns, we were already falling in love.

This time last year, everything was so new. I started to look at the world differently, knowing everything was about to change. I feel like I have changed so much in the past year. I believe that there is no way to go through pregnancy and childbirth without being reborn yourself, in some ways. Those first weeks of excitement and uncertainity seem like ages ago.

This time last year, I became a mom.

Baby's First Camping Trip

The beautiful scenery that awaited us in NY. 

Vacations have been few and far between for Dan and I over the past couple of years, so we are extremely thankful for any time we're able to get away. This past weekend, we were able to take a couple days off to do some camping in upstate New York. Not only were we glad to get a few days away from work, but we were especially excited to take Linus on his a first trip to a place that holds a lot of memories for us.

On the way up to Gouverneur! Linus slept for most of the 6 hour trip, but spent part of the ride absolutely mesmerized by the Warning label on his car seat. Must be all the black and white. It cracked me up that he would suddenly be drawn to it and then practically go cross-eyed trying to look at it.

Having some tummy time outside on the deck shortly after arriving

Dan grew up camping in Gouverneur, NY. His family owns land there, complete with a small trailer and a lean-to with a fire place. It's absolutely lovely and a huge part of his life. I first went up to Gouverneur with his family in 2005. It was on that trip that Dan first told me that he loved me, so, of course, it's quite dear to my heart as well.

Getting a kiss from his cousin, Violet. (fun fact: they were caught by the same midwife!)

We definitely got a lot of use out of our Ergo on this trip!

We joined most of our ever-growing family on Dan's side, including his mom, his two older sisters, and their husbands and children. Since the space in the trailer is at a premium (especially with the addition of three little ones in less than a year), we brought up our tent to camp outside.

I thoroughly enjoyed getting the chance to dry Linus's diapers outside in the sun! 

Linus's cousin, Ellie, posing for me before lunchtime 

We were a little nervous about how Linus would fare sleeping in the tent, but he did great! Our set up was pretty basic, since we co-sleep at home anyway. We laid our sleeping bags out and brought the mattress from Linus's co-sleeper to lay next to them. He was basically still in his own bed, just without the sides. It worked out pretty perfectly, and we didn't need to haul up his entire co-sleeper (which wouldn't really have fit in our tent anyway) or buy anything new.

This little lady, Evelyn, is older than Linus by a mere 4 weeks! It's been such a treat to watch them grow up together 

"Hello, my name is Linus, and I am the cutest baby ever." ;)

Most of the vacation was spent hanging out around the trailer. We took a few short walks, played with the kids, juggled all the napping schedules as best we could, and got some reading in. Our only "excursion" was on Friday. We all drove into town for the St. Lawrence County Fair where we ate way too many french fries and saw lots of farm animals.

Posing (accidentally) with the sheep's bum!

Dan's Fried Dough! 'Nuff said

The fair done tuckered him out! 

Overall, it was a pretty perfect first vacation for Linus. My only regret is that it wasn't longer!

Family photo before leaving for home. I think Linus has the "over the shoulder" look down!

Birth Story Part 3: Triumphant

This is the final installment of my birth story. You check out part one here, and part two here.

It was determined that I needed an internal monitor (and I thought the external ones were uncomfortable!), although at this point, I can‘t quite remember why. When Ann went to insert it (my second internal examine), I was six centimeters dilated. She also noticed that, despite all the leaking, my caul was still mostly intact. Thinking it might help the process along, Ann broke my bag of waters with an amniohook.

I was shocked that there was still so much amniotic fluid in there! I felt a warm rush from between my legs, soaking the bed. The sheets were quickly and quietly switched out.

I’m not sure what time it was at this point. Maybe 7:00 or 8:00 p.m.? But, it wasn’t too long before things really started to pick up (finally!).

I began to feel the contractions. I was actually pretty excited, at first. After each one I would look at Dan and exclaim “I had a contraction!”. We exchanged a few high fives and hugs. We would be meeting our baby soon!

Next thing I knew, I was in active labor. In what seemed like no time, my contractions went from fairly mild and well spaced, to one right on top the other. I tired to remember the wisdom of the doula that taught our birth class and to focus on the time in between the contractions so that I wasn’t focusing on the pain. I breathed deeply and made low, groaning sounds as I exhaled, which was immensely helpful compared to the times when I lost my focus and let out high-pitched screams.

As the contractions grew in intensity, I was out of that bed like a shot. It was so uncomfortable, and at that point, there was no way anyone would be forcing me to lay down or stay put, beeping monitors be damned! I think I ripped off that ridiculous finger monitor at one point, too. And, at some point, I also ripped off my hospital gown. Partly in rebellion, and partly because I couldn’t take the feeling of it on my skin. When Ann returned, with a new nurse in tow, I was standing I the room stark naked.

Ann brought in a birth ball and we placed it on the bed. I stood, draped over it, swaying back and forth, moaning (sometimes screaming), and doing my best to focus. The intensity of the contractions had come on so quickly (ironic, after the hours of nothing) that I started to worry I might not be able to do it. But, be it stubbornness, or sheer determination, I was not willing to even entertain the idea of drugs. This was a major part of my birth plan. I was going to do this as naturally as I could at this point and no one was going to take that away from me.

Around 10:00 or 11:00, I was kind of in a haze, but heard Daniel chatting with Ann, trying to decide when he should call my parents so that my mom could be present for the birth. He asked how much longer it would be, and of course, Ann replied that there was no way to know. The part that scared me was hearing her say that I might not even be ready to start pushing until 6:00 the next morning or later. I tried not to think about that for too long, lest I lose my focus. Dan made the call to get in touch my parents anyway. Even if it would be a while, my mom would want to know that things were getting close. It ended up being a good thing that he did.

I started getting irritated and quite loud. I remember remarking (yelling) that I was not expecting the contractions to get so painful and so close together so quickly. I felt like I hardly had a break. At one point, I remember shoving the birth ball off the bed in frustration. I wasn’t sure how to get comfortable. Anytime Dan, bless his heart, tried to massage my back or rub my head, it just made things worse. Someone kept wiping my forehead with cool, damp washcloths, though, and that felt lovely. I was sweating like a loon! My body had never worked so hard. Looking back, I must have been in transition at this point. I started to feel like I needed to pee or poop, but trying to sit on the toilet made things worse.

This was around 12:30 Wednesday morning, and Ann decided to check my cervix. To everyone’s surprise, I was already at 10 centimeters, and to my relief, I was ready to start pushing. Now the feeling of needing to use the toilet made sense. I was feeling the urge to push! It was about this time that my mom arrived.

Pushing was such an interesting experience. It’s so hard to describe what it felt like! But, I was glad to actually feel like I was more actively doing something. I was working with my contractions and it would not be long before the little person who had been growing in my uterus for the past 35 weeks would be earthside!

I was standing during my first few pushes and ended up peeing all over the floor. Comfort-wise, the position was not really working for me either. Ironically, despite my earlier protest, I got back in bed. Ann suggested getting on my hands and knees, but it’s not what my body wanted. I turned onto my left side with my right leg in the air (supported by my mother). I’m not sure how or when they got there, but sometime during pushing, a team from the NICU assembled ready to look over my premie when he or she was born. Funny how all your modesty flies out the window when you’re in labor! I can’t even tell you how many people saw me naked that night.

I pushed for about an hour and started feeling my baby’s head move down the birth canal. My mom kept remarking how much hair he or she had. I was able to touch the head at point and was overwhelmed by how soft it was. Dan kept telling me how amazing I was doing and I could hear the emotion in his voice every time our baby’s head made and appearance. I felt a bit of pain around my vagina and perineum, but the “ring of fire” was not nearly as painful as I expected. Ann rubbed oil into my perineum and helped support it as my baby’s head made it bulge.

I kept trying to think of Ina May Gaskin’s “sphincter law” as I pushed and tried to keep my mouth soft in order to keep my vagina soft, but I think I had a clenched jaw more often than not. Pushing made me feel powerful, though. I was very inwardly focused at this point, and everything around me felt completely surreal. The pain, the presence of my family, all the other hospital noise. Cheesy as it may sound, in my head, I kept repeating “open, down, out” and tried to envision Shelia Kitzinger‘s description of the labia opening like the petals of a flower.

Soon, the head was out, and after one or two more pushes, I felt the rest of the body come sliding through. There is absolutely nothing that can top that moment for me. The feeling of my baby’s body coming out of me made me feel triumphant. It made the rest of the experience more than worth it. I felt the wiggly, slippery newborn body on my stomach. I was in love.

I think I heard Dan first exclaim that it was a boy. A boy! My boy. Linus Emery Welding, born at 1:42 a.m., Wednesday morning, March 14, 2012, pink, screaming, and perfect.

Since I was still laying down and without my glasses, I barely got to look at him before the cord stopped pulsing and was cut. He was then whisked over to be examined by the nurses from the NICU. Ann kept saying that he looked great and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. After a quick check, I was able to try breastfeeding before he needed to go to the NICU for further precautionary testing (as per hospital protocol). Because I have flat nipples, we had some trouble getting him to latch, but with the help of a nipple shield and guidance from Ann, Linus got his first taste of colostrum, that wonderful liquid gold!

Shortly thereafter, in just one or two pushes, I delivered the placenta. Ann held it up for me to see. It was beautiful. The tree of life that sustained Linus for 35 weeks.

My dad came in to meet Linus before Ann set to work repairing my second degree tear. I remember being incredibly cold and shaking uncontrollably, after affects of all the adrenaline. Ann hugged me when all was said done, congratulated me on a job well done, and told me I was a rock star. I really did feel like one!

There was a quiet stillness after that. Linus was to be in the NICU for several hours, and my arms ached to snuggle him. Dan fell asleep, a nurse brought me a turkey sandwich, and everyone else was gone. I felt strong and content, but couldn’t wait until my baby boy was back in my arms and at my breast.

We moved to the maternity wing after a time and Linus, perfect as he was, was released from the NICU early and brought back to us. During our stay in the hospital, I found myself falling more deeply in love with him by the minute. Dan and I were both completely smitten. I couldn’t stop looking at him or cuddling him, this miraculous new little person. I know I’ve already said this, but it was all completely surreal, and in some ways, it still is.

Although my birth was not what I dreamed it to be, it still ended up being beautiful and Linus continues to endear me and steal my heart each day. We are so overjoyed to have him in our lives. In our new little family of three.

Trying to make the best of being in the hospital, and thoroughly enjoying my baby boy (oh, and notice that Starbucks iced coffee to the right! I cut my coffee intake quite a lot during my pregnancy, so I remember that tasting SO GOOD!). This is one of our early nusring sessions. Nursing is still his favorite pastime :)

Birth Story Part 2: Waiting...

This is a continuation of my birth story. You can read part one here.

I'm not sure if Dan arrived before or after Cheyenne inserted the Cervadil, which I believe, was around 11:00, but that’s when our waiting game began. The plan was to leave the Cervadil in for 12 hours and hope that it would be enough to kick things off. After that, there would be talk of Pitocin. I was also hooked up to an IV for fluids and to receive precautionary antibiotics for Group B Strep since I hadn’t been tested for this yet (I was supposed to be tested at my next prenatal appointment, the following day).

My mom and dad arrived sometime after Daniel, even though I tried to talk them into waiting a bit, since I knew they would be doing more sitting around waiting for something to happen than anything else. They came anyway, anxious to make sure I was okay to meet their new grandson or granddaughter. It was good to have them there for support, even if there wasn’t much they could do.

Another ridiculous photo... changed out of my work clothes. Just hanging out, waiting for some contractions to happen

The Cervadil, unfortunately, proved to be of little help. Another (grrr) monitor was wrapped around my belly by the hospital staff to track my contractions (or, lack thereof). I started to feel crampy and miserable, and had some awful back pain that came and went, but that was about it. Several meals were brought and eaten, Dan drove to the apartment to straighten up, feed the cats, and bring one of our cars home. He also had the task of installing the car seat base, since we still hadn’t taken care of that yet and we would definitely be needing it on our return trip.

Despite the monitors and IV, I was thankfully able to move around the room a bit (although, everything had to be unhooked whenever I had to use the bathroom - which was frequently). Because of the persistent cramping, I had a hard time getting comfortable, but I wasn’t necessarily in pain yet. I was in bed, out of bed, in the rocking chair, standing; rinse, repeat. I’m sure I tried to nap, but with all the anxiousness and excitement, I regrettably, didn’t get much sleep.

Nurses were in and out with a fair amount of frequency. I saw Cheyenne several times as well, although she did need to head to TBC at one point for back up because, apparently, it was “busting at the seams”. That week was a busy one for births! Everyone who came in seemed to have the same comment when reviewing the stats from the heart rate monitor. Whoever my baby was, they were “happy”, with perfect decelerations, and moving all around. I kept thinking “If my baby is so happy, why don’t we let he or she stay put a while longer?” I was very glad to know, however, that there was very likely nothing wrong with my baby. At 35 weeks, he or she was still considered a premie, and I was worried that there could be complications for my baby, too.

Trying to keep a sense of humor. Look at my monitors!

As the afternoon turned into evening, and evening into night, it was looking less and less likely that we’d be meeting our baby on the 12th. Dan kept saying that he was hoping the baby’s debut would be on the 13th so that next year’s birthday would fall on 3/13/13.

At some point, shortly before the 12 hours were up, my Cervadil fell out on one of my many bathroom trips and around 11:00 p.m., it was time to re-evaluate. Since I would not be able to eat once the Pitocin was started, we decided to wait a little while before getting things going. I had a few snacks and took a wonderful shower - the warm water felt amazing on my back. I soaked it up as long as I could since I was disappointed I wouldn’t be getting a long soak in one of the tubs at TBC during the height of my contractions, which I had so been looking forward to. Then, monitor free and IV free, Dan and I took time to walk the halls.

Sometime in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, it was time for the big, bad, Pitocin…

I was hooked up to a bunch of crap again (eloquently stated, I know… can you tell I hated all those wires and beeping machines?), and the Pitocin began. The plan was to start slowly and increase the dosage in intervals every half an hour until things got going. Based on what I’ve read about Pitocin, I was anticipating horrid contractions to start almost immediately, but, I was absolutely under whelmed (not that I’m complaining).

After getting a shower. Feeling pretty good and hoping something is going to happen soon!

According to the monitors, I did start contracting. But, I still only continued to feel crampy. Maybe a little more intensely than before, but definitely not what I was expecting. I kept thinking that if this was as bad as it got, that this whole “pain during childbirth” thing was blown completely out of proportion. Little did I know what was ahead…

Things are really blurry now. I was on round one of Pitocin for 12 hours. 12 hours. And almost nothing happened. Tuesday morning, around  7:00 or 8:00, it was time for the TBC midwives to switch shifts again. I said goodbye to Cheyenne and met Ann, the midwife who ended up catching Linus (interesting side note, she also caught my sister-in-law’s daughter, the previous August). I continued to feel miserable, but was trying to stay positive. As the hours drug on with nothing happening, Dan and I began to worry that if nothing continued to happen, I would be headed for a c-section. Ann reassured us that, at this point, there was no rush. She was so calm and positive and we both felt wonderfully comfortable with her.

I continued my unsettled dance, pacing the hospital room. In the bed, out of the bed. In the chair, out of the chair. In a new chair, and out of that one. Back and forth to the bathroom. At one point, I finally settled in the rocker and felt surprisingly comfortable dozing on and off, rocking gently, trying to enjoy the last moments of holding my baby inside of me, and trying to focus on breathing and staying calm. Suddenly, the baby moved or the heart monitor shifted and the sound of heartbeat was lost (this had happened several times, sending the nurses into a tizzy, as they ran in to reposition the monitor). I was unfazed, but a new nurse came charging into the room, barely introducing herself, before demanding that I get back into bed and stay there, lest the monitor move again.

As soon as she left, I lost it. I had been doing so well holding it together despite the circumstances. But, my exhaustion and frustration came to fruition at that point. I had a good cry in Dan’s arm, lamenting that the last thing I wanted to do was to be stuck in bed. It was one of the last pieces of my longed-for birth that I was still holding on to - to be free to move and work with my body, and laying flat at the point was hugely uncomfortable to boot. I felt like part of my power had been taken from me.

Later that evening, after another visit from my parents, more waiting, and a whole lot more of nearly nothing contraction-wise, Ann made the decision to give me, my baby, and my uterus a break from the Pitocin. I was able to eat dinner and take some time to move around before starting a second round. The first round lasted close to 12 hours with almost no results. Exactly the opposite of what I expected!

When we began round two, things were very different.

Birth Story Part 1: 35 Weeks

I wrote my birth story almost a month ago now with the intention of it being one of my first posts when I re-started my blog. It ended up being much longer than I anticipated! Even though it took me almost 4 months to finally write it, I surprisingly still remembered it with quite a bit of detail. All that to say, I decided to break it into 3 parts the post isn't super massive. Here is part one. Hope you enjoy!

My favorite photo from my pregnancy. Taken just 11 days before Linus was born!

I think I should begin by saying that I have been longing to be pregnant and to have a baby for many years. Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I was destined for motherhood. And, when I started learning more about natural birth and the absolute power of a woman’s body, that cemented it. I could not read/watch/absorb enough information about pregnancy and birth. I had my birth planned for a few years before Daniel and I even began TTC. I would have a midwife deliver my baby at the The Birth Center (TBC) in Bryn Mawr, PA. No interventions. No monitoring. No drugs. No internal checks. Just me, my baby, all that lovely oxytocin, and the power of my uterus and womanly, maternal instincts. In my mind it was beautiful and uncomplicated, pain with a purpose. After the final push, I would be rewarded with a brand new little person placed on my stomach for our first skin-to-skin interaction, ready do the breast crawl for their first taste of colostrum.

Although I still believe that a birth like this is in my future, Linus’s entrance into this world, though still beautiful and miraculous, was not be so dream-like.


My estimated due date (based on the rigorous charting of my cycle), was penned in my charts for April 16th.  I fully expected, this being my first, that I would pass that date, easily, and although I was a huge, uncomfortable, swollen mess by the end of my pregnancy, I was looking forward to languishing in those last couple weeks, looking forward with eager anticipation, to the arrival of labor. Although, in retrospect,  I always did have a nagging feeling that I was going to go early. But, anytime someone would mention that they thought the same, I would write it off and joke that I just needed to make it to 36 weeks so that I wouldn’t have to go to the hospital (at TBC, if you go into labor before 36 weeks, their policy is that you have to deliver in the hospital). If I could make it week 36, I would be golden.

Not sure how far along I was exactly in this photo, but getting close to the end!

Right around the 34 week mark in early March, I went to the bathroom at work and felt something slide out. Understandably startled, I took a look and saw what looked to me to be a rather large, albeit clear, piece of my mucous plug. This might sound weird to some, but it made me excited! Of course, it’s not unusual to lose your plug in bits of pieces over the last few weeks of your pregnancy; it was cool to know that something was happening. My body was gearing up.

Later that night, after our birth class at TBC, I mentioned this event to the amazing doula who was facilitating the class (unfortunately, I can’t remember her name now, but Dan and I both loved her!) to see what she thought. She did indeed agree that it was likely part of my plug, and shared in my excitement. She gave me a bit of a knowing and look when Dan and I left and said something along the lines of “See you next week… maybe!” I laughed it off again. No way we’d be having a baby the next week. For one thing, we still had one more week of birth class and our breastfeeding class to attend. For another, I still hadn’t had my shower nor had I finished the nursery or even frozen any meals yet! Plus, it would still be before 36 weeks.

The next day, I woke up feeling an excess of discharge. In the back of my mind, I knew it was likely a surge of lukeria as I was nearing the end of my pregnancy. But since part of my plug was missing as well, I decided to play it safe and gave TBC a call on the off chance I was leaking amniotic fluid. They had me come in right away. The midwife on call, Jamesina, was one that I hadn’t had an appointment with yet, but she was great. She tested the fluid and assured me it was normal discharge and there were no signs of infection. I was a bit embarrassed for being paranoid over nothing, but relieved nonetheless. 

The next few days continued uneventfully until Monday morning, March 12. I was exactly 35 weeks.
I woke up to use the bathroom (as I had been doing, about three times a night since entering the third trimester) around 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning. Again, I felt a small gush and found some red-tinged discharge. I tried not to worry, put on a pad, and went back to bed. I would reassess in the morning. 

I got out of bed around 6:00, and sure enough, continued to leak, more so than the week before. I kept calm, tentatively told Daniel that I was going to call TBC again, and emailed my co-workers to let them know I would be to work late, but not too worry. I was sure that I was worried over nothing again, but wanted to be safe. Just in case.

See? I wasn't exaggerating about being a swollen mess... my giant feet and ankles about a week and a half before being induced (at least my toenails look pretty)

When Julie, the midwife on call (who I incidentally saw early on in my pregnancy when I had a scare after a short bleeding episode), got back to me, she said there was no rush, but to come in and get checked. She also told me to make sure I had something to eat (I happily obliged and had a bowl of raisin bran). Unfortunately, she happened to be at Delaware County Memorial Hospital (DCMH) after being called over near the end of her shift, so I needed to meet her there. She seemed confident however, that everything would be fine. 

I had not been to DCMH at all yet. In fact, I was planning on setting up a tour later that week so I would be familiar with it  in case I needed to be transferred while in labor at TBC. I left my apartment with nothing but my purse and dressed in my work clothes. Thankfully, it was a short drive to DCMH, but as soon as I parked, I felt anxious. The hospital was the last place I wanted to be.

Eventually, after getting lost a couple of times, I found my way up to the labor delivery ward and met Julie. She was just about end her shift, but took me to a room and got me settled.

I remember a nurse coming in, taking my blood pressure, and wrapping one of those obnoxious heart rate monitors around my belly. I then had to wait for the next midwife to begin her shift. I was in the room alone for maybe 10 minutes and had an emotional moment thinking (hoping) that I was so glad that I wouldn’t be giving birth in the hospital. I composed myself and remembered there was no need to worry. I was, most likely, overreacting again. The new midwife would probably tell me the same thing I was told previously. It was good that I was being cautious, but the fluid was nothing more than increased lukeria. 

Eventually, I met the midwife, Cheyenne, another new one to me, but I feel like there’s an instant familiarity with the TBC midwives (they‘re all amazing), and I felt more comfortable in that foreign place knowing she was there.  After exchanging introductions, she went about the business of testing my fluid. 

Several minutes later, she returned to give me the news: this time, I hadn’t worried for nothing. I was leaking amniotic fluid (the irony of this is that - despite what is depicted in the media - there is really only a small percentage of women whose water breaks before they go into labor - 10%, I believe? However, most of the mamas that I‘m closest with began at least one of their labors with their water breaking, including my sister and two of my sisters-in-law). 

Looking rather uncertain... but, thumbs up for meeting my baby!!


Based on this, the gestation of my baby, the excellent readings from the heart rate monitor, and the fact that I was (surprisingly to me) three centimeters dilated, the recommended course of action was induction. I felt my beautiful, longed-for, complication free birth crumbling away. We discussed options, and decided to start with Cervadil, a prostaglandin insert designed to ripen to cervix, in an effort to try and avoid Pitocin, a synthetic form of oxytocin, designed to stimulate contractions (which are much worse than natural contractions). To be honest, I was/am terrified of Pitocin and was praying the Cervadil would do the trick.

Before I could even call Daniel, the nurse returned to admit me. Suddenly, everything felt like a dream, like I was watching the scenario play out from a distance. Everything was happening too quickly, and surely, this wasn’t my birth…?

When she left, I called Daniel, who was at work, and told him we were about to become parents. I finally let some tears go, partly sad, partly anxious, partly excited! His excited reaction comforted me, but I’m sure his nerves shot through the roof. Before he could come to DCMH, I charged him with going to the apartment to pack our bags and pick up the snacks I had bought that weekend to save for TBC. I called my mom shortly thereafter and shocked the heck out of her, too. She was in the final days of planning my shower, which was to be held that Saturday, March 17th. Several other calls followed.

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