The Birth of Oliver

This pregnancy was tumultuous for me. I had a 2 year old in the throes of terrible two-ness and a 6 month old who was up many times at night and very clingy during the day. I felt overwhelmed often. Then one night my husband suggested I take a pregnancy test. I was defensive. I told him that there's no way I could be pregnant.  But he gently explained that he felt I had been hormonal and my craving Mexican food for dinner had him concerned. To indulge him, I rummaged around in my drawer and found an expired dollar tree test. It came up as a bright, bold, immediate positive. 

I panicked. I couldn't be pregnant. I didn't want to be. Sometimes I felt that I couldn't handle the 2 children I had and to add a pregnancy on top of it all...

This panic merged into fear and then, of course, a fair helping of guilt, the emotions mixing and rolling together for most of my pregnancy. I felt like I wasn't bonding well with this baby like I had with my other 2. I had less time to dream about him, doubted my ability to mother 3 littles so close together well, and on top of it all, feared labor and delivery. 

My last birth was a long mix of fighting the hospital staff on having interventions I didn't want and defending myself from assumptions they made about me as a result.  It was exhausting and unpleasant. While my OB is amazing and did come in a few times when she could, she didn't know the full story and could only do so much in the brief snippets she was able to be there. 

A few months before my due date, my sister, Emily, passed away.  We had planned for her to visit us the week after the baby was born.  Sadness, regret, and the many other things that come with grief compounded my already stormy feelings.

When my labor began at midnight on February 5th my emotions were at full tilt. I was determined to stay home about 5 hours. Apparently 12 hours without intervention is the hospital cut-off and my previous labors had both been a solid 17. My husband and I had agreed...less time there gave them less incentive to rush my labor.

In significant pain, we arrived at the hospital at 5 AM.  In triage, I was checked and excited to find out I was already 5 cm and 75% effaced, in -3 station. They monitored me as I expected for 2 hours. What I didn't expect was for my contractions to slowly become less painful then pretty much stop.  I figured it was lying in bed so I tried to move, sway, and walk as best I could with monitors attached. Nothing seemed to help pick up the contractions. Feeling defeated, I decided to rest.  I had been awake the entire night and knew that if labor did start back that day, I would need all of my strength. 

Ironically, my contractions picked up a little when I attempted to sleep (they had at home too). So, unable to sleep,  I spent some time on my phone looking for something to explain my labor stopping in the middle of active labor.  I found a reassuring article about labor patterns on spinning babies that said some labors can have a start and stop pattern. It encouraged Moms not to view this stop as "stalled labor" but as a natural rest for the uterus.  Progress had not necessarily stopped during this rest but some birth task that was not dilation-related such as engagement or fetal rotation may be occurring. It promised that the contractions should return strongly (kind of like picking up where we left off) and labor was likely to advance faster once they did. 

Waiting and keeping a positive attitude was hard as neither of my previous labors had followed the “start and stop” pattern but fit more under the “long and steady” category.  I wasn't surprised when I was rechecked and there was no change other than baby moving down a station. Of course the attending recommended pitocin. This is an intervention I am not interested in unless used as a last resort, so I refused.  I did agree to have my membranes stripped before going home. My husband and I left the hospital at 9 AM. 

We went to the mall to walk around to see if we could get labor moving again. We started looking for some shoes for my oldest son just so we had something to do. A few laps around the mall and my contractions picked up quite a bit. They came back in the manner the article I read had promised--as strong, if not stronger than before. The pain picked up quickly. I usually like walking through contractions but I found myself unable to do that after a while. I had to sit down during the peak of each of the contractions. My earlier intestinal upset came back along with intense nausea. I decided to cut the shopping trip short.

In the car, my contractions continued to become more and more painful. My husband was incredibly supportive and flexible. He went with whatever I said though my decisions were hardly clear.  In between contractions I would say that I was OK with going to a hotel or the house like we'd previously decided. However, during a contraction I would beg to go back to the hospital. In the end, we made a quick detour by the house for him to pick up a few things then we went straight to the hospital. I vomited three times by the time we got there. I was in a great deal of pain and vocalizing loudly in the privacy of our vehicle. I was already begging for an epidural. My husband was incredibly supportive, even while driving, finding bags and napkins when I threw up, rubbing my back, holding my hand and reminding me to breathe through the pain.

At noon, back at the hospital, they took one look at me and immediately admitted me to a room this time. On recheck I was 75% effaced but a loose 6 cm dilated and -1 station. The next few hours are a blur of trying to delay the epidural as long as possible, something I had previously planned.  I tried to make use of this time when I was completely mobile by rocking or getting on the floor, whatever my body compelled me to do during a contraction. My nurse had a completely natural delivery with her baby and she was very supportive of all of the things I asked for in my birth plan.  I remember when she read my plan, her only comment was “no problem… we can do all that. Easy.”

I got my epidural around 2:30 PM.  I wanted to still be able to move my legs so that I could change positions on my own and to be able to feel my contractions.  It was perfect. The anesthesia only extended through my pelvis and quickly took the edge off of the maddening pain.  I was able to relax and enjoy the rest of the birth.  My contractions immediately picked up and by 3:30 PM, I was 8 cm and completely effaced.

My OB/GYN was not on call until the next morning but she came in for my delivery anyway. By 4:30 PM, when she checked me again, I was fully dilated with a little cervical lip. She said it was stretchy so I could do a few test pushes to see if his head would slide past.  I was a little nervous that my mom would miss the birth. She had been watching my older two boys and hadn't arrived yet. The test pushes didn’t work to move the lip though so we decided to wait in order to avoid potential tearing of my cervix. I moved onto my stomach to help the baby descend.  It was wonderful to be able to control my body’s position, something I was not able to do to this extent at my previous deliveries.

In less than 30 minutes, I started feeling the head move into the birth canal and called for my doctor. My mom arrived then, just in time. My OB asked again if I could feel my contractions and I reassured her that I could. She told me that timing would be up to me then and to let her know when I was having a contraction and was ready to push.  It felt good to have the lead and not have to be told what my body was doing or when to push.  Three contractions with about 3 pushes each and his head was born.

My doctor asked me if I wanted to catch the baby.  Of course I did! I'll never forget the feeling pulling him out of myself, feeling the pressure release and his body twist slightly as he slid out.  I lifted his slippery, bluish, screaming self to my chest, the grand finale of this birth changing and healing me. I wish I had a picture but I will never forget this moment, regardless.  I felt a rush of positive emotions replacing the swirl of negative ones I’d been feeling for months.

All the anxiety over him being unplanned and my being unable to handle it all or love him enough…fearing the birth and worrying about fighting the system along the way…it was all undone somehow and I just felt…empowered. My body felt strong and capable. I felt in control. My nurses, doctor and husband had been nothing but supportive.  It was the beginning of a new chapter and I knew somehow I could do it all because I loved this little wailing being with my whole heart, just like I loved his brothers.

Oliver Emil came earthside at 5:10 PM, squalling loudly, born into his mother's eager arms, the namesake of his aunt who had passed from this earth a few months too early to meet him.  His name symbolizes peace and healing.

What's in a Name?

Picking a name for your unborn child seems to be a perfect embodiment of marriage itself: two minds have to become one.  Two individuals from two different families and backgrounds with different life experiences, preferences, and memories have to come together to pick two important words.  Words that will be the first impression many people get of the child their union created for the rest of his or her life.

Like last pregnancy, my husband and I had many names one of us liked or loved and the other person hated.  Sometimes a negative memory was to blame.  Other times, our preferences just seemed to be polar opposite.

But name-picking is a beautiful process.  And having two equally sharing parties that differ in opinions are invaluable for this new little person.  And... I honestly really enjoy the search and the many discussions.  I've learned so much about my husband in the process.

All that being said, we are ready to announce baby boy #2's name! His name will be....

Coen Gabor

I want to give you some background on both his name and big brother's too since I didn't have a blog back when he was born.

Let's start with big brother.  His name is Liam Allan.

Allan is a family name on my husband's side.  My husband's middle name is Allan.  His father's middle name is Allan and so was his late grandfather's.  I love that the tradition to pass on names in his family focuses on middle names.  It gives history without taking away individuality.  I decided during my pregnancy with Liam that I wanted to start a similar tradition with all of our kids' names someday.

Liam is a name I fell in love with during a rotation I did in my medical school's daycare.  The cutest little 10 month old there was named Liam.  He was so lovable that it made me love his name. I also loved that I had never met anyone else with that name.  As an added bonus, my husband's father is William Allan (but he goes by the name Allan).  The fact that Liam is a form of William gave it a family name perspective but still kept its uniqueness because it wasn't a carbon copy family first name.  I was excited when the grandparents all seemed to like it immediately as well.

Since my name is Jennifer (the number one name from 1970-1984 in this country), ever since I was a little kid, I wanted to name my kids less common names so that they wouldn't be dubbed "so-and-so-first-initial" in their classrooms.  Liam was ranked #15 in 2011. This is the number we were faced with when we were choosing his name.  We hesitated a little over the name because of its high rank, but that was its first year in the top 25 and only the second year in the top 40 so it didn't seem too popular.  Of course,  it ended up rising to #6 in his birth year.  Fast-forward to last year and it's now #2.  I hope he doesn't end up feeling like his name is too common because to me it still feels unique.  It fits him perfectly and I love it even more than I did when we chose it.

Now for baby brother Coen Gabor.

Gabor is the family name for him.  It is my father's name and was also my late grandfather's name.  It is a name that appears often in my family.  I have a cousin and a second cousin with the name too.  For this reason and because people always seemed to butcher the pronunciation for my Dad, we decided to use it as a middle name.  It also continues the tradition we started in our own family with Liam by giving him the family name as a middle name.

Coen is a name we were introduced to because of a friend in my husband's Army unit.  He has a son Liam's age that is named Cohen.  When I heard the name, I fell in love with it. I was unaware of their chosen spelling but my husband and I both imagined it spelled Coen.  We are both drawn to short names and as I said earlier, unique ones.  I have yet to meet another Coen.  I did a lot of reading about the name and found that Coen is a shortened version of the Dutch name Coenraad.  Just like Liam is short for William.  Once again, it just feels perfect for our little guy.

And the meanings are perfect too.  Liam means "protector".  What a great name for a big brother!  It also fits his sweet personality so well.  He is already so protective of his mama!  And the one time he's been with a smaller baby, he was so gentle and sweet with her.  Coen means "brave".  Little brothers can always use a healthy dose of bravery ;).  Being the little guy can be tough!

I'll leave you with a sneak peak of Coen's nursery (though the color in the picture does not do the real-life version justice) and the new addition to our kids' growth chart.  Nesting is in full force.  I can't wait to share more nursery pictures and pictures of Liam's big boy room as we finish up.  I also plan to do a 21 month update on Liam and a 5th month bumpdate... soon :).

 

Gender Reveal

We are excited to announce that.... 

It's a BOY! 

This winter, our family is growing by two feet... two more little boy feet! Bring on the hand-me-downs and rough and rowdy brotherly play!

Liam doesn't know what to think about his baby brother yet.  I love his face in this picture.  He looks like "What is this?! These are too small for me! Where is the impostor???"

We are very excited that Liam is going to have a little brother!  I can't wait to see this new little guy's personality and how Liam adjusts to being a big brother.  I am looking forward to seeing our boys grow up playing together.  I always wished for a sister with when I was a little girl.  I hope that Liam finds the camaraderie and closeness I longed for back then, in his little brother.  I pray that they will be close friends their entire lives.  As one mom whose blog I read tells her boys, "having a brother is like having a built in best friend for life."  I will be reminding my boys of this often. 

We had a fun photo shoot today with Daddy (he's home from annual training!).  Here's my favorite picture: me and my little men. 

 This Mama is one blessed woman to be surrounded by all these handsome guys who love on me.  I am officially a "boy mom" double time :).

It's a... 12 Gender Predictions for Baby #2

Source for shoes picture

One experience common to pregnant women is an intense yearning to know whether their little one is a boy or girl.  Some people choose to find out by elective ultrasound, others wait for their anatomy scan, and still others prefer to keep the surprise until birth.  But every mother wonders.  And from this wondering has developed many many methods for guessing baby's gender.  Guessing being the key word.

Here are a few that I tried this go-around.  These are just for fun!  Especially the old wives' tales are not meant to be taken seriously.  I quite enjoyed putting this together and hope you enjoy the results.  The hands-on ones in particular made me feel like a kid again experimenting in my bathroom with my best friend.  From wives' tales and seemingly silly stuff to somewhat more scientific guesses, here's how baby #2 ranked on each.  (You can find the first 9 at this link: wives tales)

1.  How are you carrying?  

Low means boy; high means girl.  Showing mostly in the front suggests you're carrying a boy; expanding horizontally is a girl.

As with my first pregnancy, I can't really tell this early about carrying low or high since my uterus hasn't even reached my belly button yet (that's a 20 week milestone).  I carried Liam very high but had no idea about that until well after we already knew his gender (and strangers continually insisted he was a girl as a result).

I can say that I do seem to be carrying out front, though.  At any rate, I haven't seemed to round out anywhere else (yet).  So, based on this... BOY!

2.  Break outs

Little girls are said to steal their mothers' beauty so skin blemishes are a sign of a baby girl.

Well, for me, hormonal changes always give me acne.  Same with baby boy #1.  But, based on this... GIRL!

3.  Swinging ring

This is one of the kind of silly ones but you are supposed to tie your wedding ring on a string and hold it over your belly.  Swinging back and forth means girl.  Circle means boy.  So...GIRL!

4. Baking soda potty time

Baking soda + pee.  Fizzles = boy.  Not = girl.  So... BOY!

5.  Baby's heart rate

Under 140 bpm (some sources say 150) is supposed to be a boy.  Higher is a girl.

This little one has been consistently in the high 160s (as was Liam until way late into my pregnancy).  But based on this... GIRL! 

6.  Cravings

Salty and sour mean boy.  Sweet means girl.

Unfortunately, I crave both.  I've always been a sweet tooth though so that seems to be winning out...GIRL!

7. Chinese Gender Prediction

Based on your age at conception and the month of conception (using the Chinese lunar months), there is an ancient Chinese gender prediction calendar.  You can try and calculate yours here: Chinese Gender Predictor Tool.

Liam's said girl.  This time it says... BOY! 

8. Sympathy weight

If your husband is packing on the pounds with you, it's supposed to mean girl.

My husband watches his weight and is an avid runner. With Liam, he lost a bunch of weight (which I hated of course ;). He's stayed steady with his weight so far (it'd be hard not to since he's at Army training this month).  So... BOY!

9. Morning sickness

Morning sickness is supposed to mean girl.  

I had morning sickness with both of my pregnancies but it was definitely worse this go around so... GIRL!

10.  Mood swings
Mood swings are supposed to mean a baby girl since you have extra female hormones in your bloodstream.  OK, based on this it's definitely (just ask my husband)...GIRL!

11. Skull theory

I've had a bit more trouble understanding this one but the basic idea is that boys and girls have differently shaped skulls.  It's based off of the differences that grown men and women have in their skulls (which, it doesn't take much thought to realize that these changes are strongly influenced by hormones at puberty and may be absent in fetuses as a result).  But, here's a comparison.

  

Link to skull picture

From what I've read, the science isn't really there but here are the basic differences I could find that fetuses are supposed to show.  Males are supposed to have a more sloping or flat forehead while females' are more rounded.  Males also have a more blocky jaw and maybe a bigger occiput? (This is where it gets hard for me to see differences in the examples but if you want to try your guessing skills here's a link to a quiz: skull theory quiz slideshow.)

Here is our 12 weeks +2 days ultrasound of baby #2.

The forehead seems rounded to me (definitely not flat or sloping).  However, I can't really tell about the jaw or back of the head.  Feel free to correct me if you're a skull theory expert but based on the forehead I say... GIRL! 

12.  The angle of the dangle (AKA Nub Theory)

This is my grand finale because it has the most scientific basis.  In fact, a quick search of PubMed led me to believe that this guess can be more than 90% accurate (in perfect research scenarios with proper training and good equipment).  The theory claims that based on a side shot of the genital tubercle (lovingly known by many as the "nub"), you can tell girl vs. boy based on the angle it forms with the spine.  30 degrees or greater (pointing toward the head) means boy and parallel to spine means girl.

Angle of the dangle picture source

The basic concept is based on developmental biology and the progression of the indeterminate genital tubercle to penis or clitoris.  The penis elongates and moves upward.  Therefore, boy guesses are thought to be more accurate as girl guesses could be wrong if the ultrasound was simply a little too early.

Liam's nub was completely girly.  Here is baby #2's nub.... 

That, my friends, couldn't look more boyish if it tried.  So... we are thinking BOY!

We can't wait to see if this last one is accurate.  It's pretty crazy that I feel like we found out the gender at 12 weeks, but, like they say, we aren't going to paint the nursery yet. Anything this early is a guess, educated and scientific or not (my ultrasound tech didn't even want to look for said nub).

I'm really loving the 50/50 split between boy and girl predictions overall, though.  Liam's were all girl predictions (other than the hubby's lack of sympathy weight...which if that's what we're waiting on, we'll never have a girl).  It's fun to see that every pregnancy is different, even if the gender is the same.

Stay tuned to see if baby #2 ends up being baby boy #2!

Keep Calm...

Somebunny has an Easter surprise he wants to share with everyone.

Keep calm...  

We're egg-specting! 

Liam is going to be a BIG BROTHER!

Pink or Blue, Baby #2 is expected to hatch sometime around December 1, 2014.

And we are egg-static!

But seriously, all egg puns aside, we are thrilled 

to be announcing that Baby #2 is on his or her way. 

 We are in love already!

How Motherhood Changed Me

Having a baby...it opens something inside of you.  It's almost like the world splits in two, you're so open.  All different sorts of things can rush inside of you, can fill you up.  Some women fill with sadness...it's hard to explain. Loving something so much--you're not prepared.  It's so big, so ancient and animal.  It's terrifying...It can make you feel crazy.
                                                                           ~The God of Animals by Aryn Kyle

Before I had a baby, I was a type-A student.  In high school, I actually read textbooks and studied.  I was that annoying kid that would ruin the curve.  I didn't feel satisfied with getting all A's.  I wanted all A+'s.  (I swear I wasn't a pompous jerk...I was never in your face.  My parents are first generation immigrants so the pressure to achieve was very strong.) And, I was blessed with a brain that had the capacity to learn and a thirst for knowledge so A+'s was what I got.  In high school and college.  Medical school wasn't much different.  There were no A+'s but despite all the terrifying introductory speeches about all of us formerly being the upper crust and how that would no longer be possible, I did it again.  Top student in a few subjects and top quartile overall.  This was what I had been raised to view as success.  I was on track.  My parents were proud, my teachers were happy, and I felt accomplishment and pride in my hard work.

Then, my world shifted.  I was pregnant.

My husband and I wanted kids (a big family at that!)  but the timing was not perfect.  I was in my second year of medical school.  And if you know anything about medical school, you know that the most demanding year as far as hours spent away from home is 3rd year.  I boarded the roller coaster we call pregnancy hormones at this point.  I was up, elated about the thought of a life created by me and the love of my life growing inside of me.  Then I was down, questioning my very ability to be a mother, fearing pregnancy and labor then sleepless nights and active toddler years.... all in the face of the hard months I knew would come before and after my baby's birth.  I also feared losing all of my hard work, of failing, of quitting, of falling off track.

But then time flew (although when I was nearing the end of my pregnancy I would have said time crawled at a snail's pace).  As I began to feel my precious child move inside of me, I bonded in a way that I will never be able to do justice with words.  That baby became my focus.  I spent nights and study breaks organizing, dreaming, decorating, and picking out outfits for the hospital.  I still worked hard during the days (night shifts too) but my heart and focus were already shifting.

Then on a beautiful day in October, my world shifted even further.  The most beautiful (and very loud) baby boy was placed in my arms.  I was a mommy.

This tiny person became the center of my world.

The next days were a blur.  Someday I'll write about all the craziness that went on the week after he was born, but to fast-forward a bit, I spent two months at home, each day fearing how quickly the days were passing.  I dreaded January and starting back to my rotations like nothing I had ever dreaded before (I was one of those kids that actually looked forward to going back to school after long summer breaks.  Not that I didn't love summer but there's always excitement in a change of pace and seeing friends,etc.).

I knew leaving my baby would be hard.  But I didn't know how hard.  I don't remember silly details of that first morning but I will never forget how I felt.  I felt like my world was caving in.  Like I was trapped in some horror movie.  My mom stayed with us the first week and a half so it wasn't that I feared my baby wasn't being taken care of...it was that he wasn't with me.  That base, animal instinct the author refers to in the quote above.  She describes it in horses separated from their foals later in the book:

    After we separated the foals from their mothers, we all stood around, watching their grief.  They screamed and rammed their chests into the fence, running circles in the little pen, colliding with one another in clouds of dust.  Their heads lifted, crying thin, anguished whinnies, slicing the air with their pain...there was nothing {we} could do to make it easier.

I needed to have my baby with me.  The separation felt like torture.   Nothing seemed important in comparison.

I have never been a big crier.  Until I became a working mommy.  I cried on my way to the hospital  every morning for over a month.  And most mornings for months after that.  I lashed out at everyone around me.  Like a wounded animal.  Especially at my husband.  For his love, I am eternally grateful.  His patience seemed boundless at times.  The hugs, the back rubs, the encouraging words...all despite my lashing.  I cried, I screamed.  I claimed that I was being tortured.  I can't imagine what he thought but I honestly was too wounded to care.

I hurt. But who was torturing me? My attendings?  No, they were only pushing me to excellence in a field that deserves nothing less.  My husband?  No, he was my greatest ally.  He was encouraging me so that I could go on not because he was forcing me to continue.  My parents?  While they would have been disappointed if I quit and the pressure to continue was undoubtedly great, I could not blame them.  Then who?  God? No! Even worse, it was a torment of my own devices.

My husband was right (of course).  I had signed on for medicine.  I had wanted a baby during school (granted we were a year early but it really wouldn't be much different intern year). Me.  I wanted all of this.

 That's when I had the greatest realization of all.

I had changed.  Me.  I was different. As a mother, my rosy image of finishing school and working part time once I finished residency had a big flaw.  I had to sacrifice about 5 years of my children's lives.  I would miss out.  And it wasn't until I became a mother that I understood what a great sacrifice that truly would be.  I wouldn't be there to see all the firsts.  These would be reported to me by someone else.  I wouldn't be the primary care giver.  I wouldn't know what soothed my child best, what he ate for lunch (unless I asked), what times he napped, or even what kind of day he had.  All I had was crappy second-hand reports.  I missed the smiles and the coos and the cuddles.  I wanted those.  I wanted them more than what I was spending my days doing.

But I felt stuck.  Expectations (of me, my colleagues, my school, my family) surrounded me.  To quit would waste the time I'd already sacrificed and that was unthinkable.  It was not something I could live with.  So what to do?

After a half a year of torment, I took the boldest step I've taken my entire life.  I stepped off the path.  I decided not to enter residency immediately after I graduate next year.  I am taking a year off.  And for once in my life, that's all I know.  I don't know what lies beyond that...residency?  working from home?  just being a mommy?  I don't know.

But I do know that I get at least a year as a stay-at-home mom.  And I need that.  I need to find myself.  My new self.  My mommy self.  I know she has been in torment these last 12 months.  She deserves a chance to speak.  I need the time to listen.  I don't know what my path will be but I do know that I deserve to find it.