I’ve got a bit of a problem. I have this utterly adorable 19 month old who’s got me absolutely WRAPPED around his little finger. It’s true. He’s totally got my number. For the most part, I don’t really care. That’s one of the good things that comes with him being my third child. I know that I’m not going to have to carry him into his college dorm on my hip and ask his RA to pry him away from me so he can get an education and I can finally get a decent nights sleep!

It’s a season. But sometimes, like winter, it gets to be a bit much. I like winter. I love wearing cozy clothes, my down vest, sitting in front of the fire, tobogganing, cooking warm, comforting food. As much as I like winter, every year towards the end of February, I start to get tired of it. I long for relief from the constant cold and a hint of green in the never ending sea of brown, grey and white.

It’s the same with Mr. Baby. I love him. I like that he is sensitive, that he needs his Mama and that I bring him comfort. I love his snuggly little body and the feel of his downy soft curls pressed into my neck. I like his giggle, funny little quirks, the new words he is learning and the fact that I can walk into a room and make everything in his world ok. As much much as I love my guy and the closeness we share, after long weeks of his intensity, I start to feel smothered by it. Since he came down with the flu he has been attached to me with a new fierceness. I can’t check my e-mail, use the bathroom or make dinner without him on my hip. Thank goodness Mr. T works from home or I would never get Mr. Baby down for a nap (ok, I would get him down but there would be a whole lot of drama involved) because it has suddenly become offensive to him that I require him to sleep somewhere other than on my chest (funny enough, if Daddy puts him to bed he says, “nigh-nigh” and drifts off peacefully). More and more each day I find myself longing for a little relief from the ever present 26.4 pounds on my left hip or the inevitable screaming when he’s not. If I could just sleep through ONE FREAKING NIGHT ALREADY I think I’d feel a whole lot better.

Mr. Baby, when I am old and feeble, I’m going to call you up and see if you can carry me around on your back for a couple of years. You’d do that for your Mama, wouldn’t you?

ocho

On Wednesday morning we all sang a very loud and quite off key version of “Happy Monthaversary” to our littlest monkey. He giggled, squirmed and delighted in the attention, even joining in towards the end with a loud, “babababa!”. Baby J is so adorable that I wish I could just put a frame around him and hang him on the wall! His bright blue eyes and two-tooth grin make him a priceless masterpiece.

This last month has been one of our best. Sleep is a beautiful thing! Our little man is so happy. He generally has two good naps a day and then sleeps from 7pm to 7am with one wake up around 5am. Gone are the days of endless hours of screaming and weeping. They feel so far behind us now that I recently caught myself wondering if they were really that bad (Yes, yes they were. Hellish, in fact.). I am enjoying my little guy so much and am thankful everyday for his presence in our lives. I am also glad that, so far he hasn’t realized what a transient little fellow he is. After eight months of living in our four bedroom home, he still doesn’t a room of his own. Just one of the woes of being a third child, I suppose! Until we find a magical pot of gold on one of our adventure walks (so we can finish an office in the basement), little J will have to be content with dressing in N’s room, napping in our room and spending his nights in Daddy’s office (that is where his crib currently resides, carefully placed out of the webcam’s line of sight). It’s working so we’ll continue to roll with it but I promise that I will design a special room (with lots of stripes because those are Daddy’s favourite to paint!) as soon as the basement is done.

Over the last month Baby J has made a number of developmental leaps. Most notably he discovered that movement actually has a purpose! He has been able to roll over for ages but just didn’t see the point in all that effort. A couple of weeks ago our oldest was playing Lego just out of Baby J’s reach. Little J decided that he wanted in on the action so he threw himself to the side and rolled until he could reach the Lego. As he grabbed a chunk of N’s creation in his dimpled hand, you could see him make the mental connection: moving = more crap to shove in my mouth! Baby J’s mobility earned me the new title of “Toy Cop”. I am forever relocating older children and their teeny-tiny Magnetics, Polly Pockets, Lego and Barbie shoes. Once the little things are safely out of reach, it is so cute to watch Baby J squirm his way into whatever the other two are playing with. The other day as he tried to grab a toy out of reach, he managed to move from a sitting position onto his hands and knees. He didn’t really know what to do from there and eventually settled for carpet surfing. It is so fun to watch him developing. The key difference is that I’m not as eager for him to be on the move as I was with the other two, most likely because I know what’s coming!

Our little man has continued to grow like a weed. When I look at pictures from last August I can’t believe that smooshy little baby is the same one I hold in my arms today. Currently, he weighs 21 pounds 4 ounces and is 78 cm long. Our pediatrician told me that he should be a poster child for breastfeeding. I appreciated that comment so much since it affirms all of the hours we have spent nursing. Little J still nurses about six times a day. I enjoy the few minutes of quiet that we are able to share throughout the day. I love to hold him in my arms and smile at him as he nurses. In return, he strokes my arm or puts his hands up to my lips to be kissed. When he is satisfied he abruptly starts pushing against my chest with his arm and tries to sit up, ready to move on to the next activity.

With all of his rapid growth, Little J is fortunate that spring is finally upon us because I don’t think I could squish him into his snowsuit much longer. It’s actually a bit embarrassing the way his legs stick so far out the bottom. How fortuitous that my Grandmother thought to select one that was footless!

At 8 months Baby J is starting to show his preferences more clearly. He loves paper and is never happier than when he is handed a flyer to destroy. He laughs and laughs as he crumples the paper between his hands. He is also very enthralled with zippers, strings (like on my hoodie) and drinking glasses. He likes to be placed in the middle of the action so he can chew on his toys and watch the rest of our family at work and play. He loves to eat and happily gulps down huge bowls of peaches, pears and applesauce mixed with oatmeal or cream of wheat. He is also doing very well with finger foods and enjoys feeding himself cheerios, chunks of melon and anything from our plates. He recently learned how to drink from a sippy cup and does so very proudly many times a day.

Spring has brought a whole new world for little J. He is fascinated by the great outdoors now that he isn’t assaulted by wind and snow every time we step out our door. He loves to watch the birds flitting around our yard, sit nearby while the kids play soccer and investigate all the leaves and sticks that blow his way. We bought him a swing the other day and he is delighted with it! He sits and giggles the entire time that he is in it. I look forward to seeing the world through his eyes this summer.

Until next month!

did you feel that?

I bet you were wondering what the heck that loud sound that woke you up this morning was. That, my friends, was the sound of the universe shifting. A spectacular event that is truly nothing short of a bionafied miracle took place last night. MY BABY SLEPT ALL! NIGHT! LONG! I am ecstatic and rather jubilant this morning. I also don’t have a headache for the first time in a couple of months.

As I mentioned last week, Baby J started “sleep school” (whenever I tell people that he is in sleep school they always ask me, “where?” with a confused look on their faces. Never fails to make me laugh!). I was inspired by Jen over at Amazing Trips to read Marc Weissbluth’s Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. She has triplets that sleep well and is working on getting her fourth baby on a sleep schedule so I figured it was worth reading. I had run out of all the tricks I used to get the other two to sleep and was so tired that I was just exacerbating the problems.

I have been devouring Weissbluth’s book. It’s fascinating and fits well with our parenting style. He believes that the most important thing you can do for your family is to create a loving home with well-rested children and well-rested parents (pg. 13). Everyone, including Mom and Dad need to have a good nights sleep in order to function well and be happy together. Just as we don’t feed our kids all kinds of junk food or let them get overly hungry, we also need to provide them with good quality, regular sleep. I think we have done a good job of giving the other two enough rest (except, perhaps letting G give up her naps too early). Now it is Baby J’s turn to learn to sleep well. As I have said before, I’ve come to believe that teaching him how to sleep, no matter how difficult the process, is an act of kindness for our entire family.

Until last week I was very reticent to leave Baby J to cry. With the months and months of crying, tummy pain, suspected allergies etc that we have experienced, the last thing I wanted to do was listen to him cry more. I literally could not handle the sound of his wailing. With my level of exhaustion, I also lost perspective on whether his crying was because he needed me or simply wanted me. I believe that it is cruel to leave him to cry if he needs me (or his Daddy) but am very happy for him to learn that we can’t hang out at night if he simply wants me. This was particularly helpful to read:
“When your child is crying and he is not hungry, say to yourself: “My baby is crying because he loves me so much he wants my company, but he needs to sleep. I know the value of good sleep, and I love my baby so much that I am going to let him sleep” (pg. 262). Even if that means letting him cry.

We have been working on getting Baby J on a regular sleep schedule. We’re aiming for getting up around 7am (that was painful to “want”), first nap at 9:00am, second nap at 1:00pm, a possible short third nap (which he often takes) around 4 or 5:00pm and then bedtime close to 7:00pm with one (or no) night nursing around 5:00am. I was pretty skeptical that we’d be able to achieve this in any reasonable amount of time given the endless night-time drama we’ve endured but I have been pleasantly surprised. Our nights have gotten unbelievably better in a very short amount of time. We started with nights on Saturday. There was some crying. Sunday night seemed like non-stop crying between midnight and 5am (the book notes that the second night is often worse). Monday night brought some grunts and protests at 1:30am and then 5 minutes of crying at 3:30am. Last night I put Baby J to bed at 6:45pm. He fell asleep happily and peacefully within minutes. He cried for about 10 minutes at 8:30pm, sort of fussed in his sleep at 3am and then woke at 5am to eat. After I nursed him, he went back to sleep until 6:45 when he woke up cheerful and delighted with the day.

I can not tell you how thrilled we are to feel like we will have our lives back again. I feel hopeful for the first time in months. I know that once Baby J, T and I are well rested that our family will function more smoothly. We will be more patient, creative and proactive with our other two children. We’ll keep up on on household chores. I think life is going to be fun again!

In the meantime, I need to sleep train myself. My body has programmed itself to wake up automatically when Baby J did (10:30, 1:30, 3:30). The last few nights I’ve found myself wide awake while our reformed dictator slumbered peacefully in his crib!

wake up call

This afternoon I was pretty close to having a full scale melt down. Just as the tears were starting to flow, my Mom called. I was able to talk to her about how frustrated I am with the baby, how nothing I do for him seems to help any more, how sick to death I am of his incessant screaming, how tired I am, how badly I feel for neglecting my other two children for the past, oh, six months or so, how I am going to utterly loose my ever loving mind if something doesn’t get better really soon, how wiped out the husband is, how nothing in our life is working right now… and so on and so on. As I talked, I realized that we have put ourselves at the mercy of a tiny dictator who is growing more powerful by the day. He has us wound so tightly that if he starts to fuss or display any kind of a need everything else falls by the wayside until he is appeased. It’s ridiculous really.

I don’t quite know how we have gotten here, particularly with our third child. It’s not like we are rookies at this parenting thing. We’ve been pretty quick in the past to dole out gentle doses of “toughish” (and sometimes army style) love when our kids were getting nuts. But this little baby, he’s got us coming and going and dancing on our heads like idiots. He’s sly, that baby of ours (and pretty darn adorable)! Even so, we can’t keep allowing him to completely run our household. It is not fair to anyone else who lives here. He’s not even happy with the current arrangements.

The thing that is making us most nuts is the night feedings. Seriously kid, how often do you need to eat? Probably a lot cause he is huge (19 pounds 7 ounces and 29.5 inches this past Monday at his 6 month check up) but still… It’s got to change. Lately baby J has been refusing any solids (which is very confusing since he tries to rip any food we are holding out of our hands) and screams his head off if he even sees a bottle. Now I know that a bottle is just not as warm and lovely as the goodness Mom offers but come on child, it won’t kill you! I’ve been trying to give him a bottle in the afternoons to help boost his caloric intake. The way he carries on you’d think I was trying to feed him varsol.

Starting tonight, I will no longer be nursing him after he goes to bed. If (ha! make that WHEN) he wakes up to nurse, Daddy is going to offer him a bottle of formula. If he takes it, great. If not, he’s going to be hungry and pissed off until he relents. The kid just needs to learn to take a bottle. I wish we didn’t have to do it this way but I’ve tried every other way I know and nothing else works.

So little man, know that you are loved beyond description and that is why we need to do what is best for you and the rest of our family (even if you don’t like it). Your sister doesn’t get candy for breakfast and we don’t buy your brother every set of Lego he wants so don’t expect that you are going to get everything you demand either. I’m on to you little Castro (but I still melt every time you smile at me!).

Edited to add:

Abort! Abort! Mission hardcore postponed. Darling dictator spiked a fever. I guess hydration trumps sleep.

4:23

Hi! Hello! Are you awake out there? I sure am. Since about 4:23 this morning- give or take a couple of minutes here and there (although I’m not complaining about that since the husband didn’t end yesterday until 4:22 this morning). Oh what fun we are having!

By 7:30 AM, I was elbow deep in glycerin and poo pebbles because the 3 ounces of soy formula we gave baby J on Monday (hoping to get some calories into the boy so he will sleep already) caused his insides to come to a screeching halt. Between the formula he actually drank and the solids he kind of pretends to eat (”I’m just not that into you,” he cooed to his oatmeal), his guts have become a wind tunnel with a blocked exit. The noises he makes are truly remarkable.

And then there is the bone cracking cough that wracks his little body. I don’t think I feel more helpless as a parent than when I hold my baby as he is choking and spluttering in an attempt to breath. He looks at me in a way that seems to beg me to do something. Make it better. But I can’t. Virus, run your course and leave my boy alone.

This poor little baby seems to be working through one trial after another. Allergies. Poop strikes. Gut pain. Endless teething… up, down, up, down but never out. Coughing. Drowning in snot. Farts that wake him up. And never, never sleeping enough (we have been counting sleep in minutes lately instead of hours).

Will anything come easily to this little one?

stinky

I have used cloth diapers for baby J since he was born. I’m pretty sure that I have mentioned before that I love them. For our trip I switched to disposables so I didn’t have to lug old poop around with me for a week. Can I just tell you how disgusting I find them? That fake baby powder scent they inject into the diapers is making me positively nauseous. I’ve actually had to put J down a few times because his butt was giving me a head ache!

While I’m on the subject of poop, could I suggest some diaper etiquette for travelers? If your kid has a super poopy diaper that is filling the plane with toxic fumes, the kind thing to do would be to change it as soon as possible. And when you are done changing that wretched diaper, for the love of all things, don’t bring it back to your seat with you! The nice airline attendants would be happy to provide you with a plastic bag and a trash can to get rid of it. Then the people around you won’t have to use their refuse bags… Just a thought!

spotty

The last few days have been really rough for baby J. He hasn’t been sleeping and he has been super cranky. Yesterday he cried and cried all afternoon and then cried and cried all night. This morning I noticed that he had broken out in a bright, red rash all over his body (I don’t turn on lights at night so I couldn’t see him properly until the sun came up). His beautiful face is covered in angry dots. So are his chubby toes. And ALL of his thighs. He is a very pathetic sight indeed. We made a quick trip to the Ped and it looks like he has scored his first viral infection. At least we know that his siblings are good at sharing.

While at the Ped’s office she weighed him to make sure he hadn’t lost any weight (snort!). At 14.5 weeks, he tips the scale at 16lbs 10 oz! Yes, my baby is an over achiever!

dear baby j

Hello my darling boy. You are 3 months old today! Can you believe it? I can’t. It seems like the days have flown by. One minute you were this tiny, scrunchy little bundle that nursed every 45 seconds and the next a smiling, chubby wonder who still nurses every 45 seconds! I love you to the depth of my soul my boy. It is so good to have you in our family.

There are so many things that I love about you. When you wake up in the morning you lie in your bed and coo. You wave your pudgy arms around and try to catch the rays of light streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. When you hear my voice whispering good morning, your little head whips around trying to find me. When our eyes meet, your beautiful face lights up and you start to giggle. You start chatting at me and then all of a sudden will give me a perplexed look as if to say, “wait a minute. Why am I lying here chatting when I could be nursing!”. I love that you do the same thing every morning. I also love it when you lie in my arms, as you are right now with your cheek nestled into me and your hand clutching the neckline of my shirt. Sometimes you stir in your sleep and open your eyes a little bit as if to check if I’m still there. Often you smile when you see me and then fall back to sleep and let the smile slowly fade from your lips. I love your laugh and that you get hiccups every time you do! I love your chubby little toes, the roll in the back of your neck and all three sets of your thighs. I love how you smell after a bath, the warmth of your body lying on my chest in the middle of the night, the way you watch me move around the kitchen from your chair. Oh, little one, you have made my life so much fuller and have taught me to love anew.

I like to joke that you are in a competition with all the other babies around you. You seem to want to be the biggest (you’ve already got the best nailed down firmly). At 3 months you are about 15.5 pounds and 26 inches long. You have outgrown all of your 0-3 month clothes and are swifly working your way thought the 3-6 month stash. Slow down already, my boy. There is no hurry!

The last week has brought a number of developmental changes for you. On Wednesday you learned how to grasp a toy (your little linking rings) and bring it to your mouth. Good for you! Now everything goes in your mouth. Your blankets, toys, my shoulder, your fists… pretty much anything will do. You’ve even been known to pop Daddy’s nose in your mouth if it gets too close! With all that chewing and the accompanying drool, we are pretty sure that you are teething. There are little white bumps on your lower gumline so we’ll see what happens in the coming weeks. You have also become much more interested in the world around you. You still like to gaze at the black and white pictures above the couch and stare at interesting pattens and bright lights but now you are also into people! You love to watch the kids play (as long as they don’t get too close). When someone walks in the room you turn your head and then follow their movements. You also respond to voices and noise, turning towards the source of the latest sounds. That can be confusing for you sometimes with all of the noise in our house but you are learning to distinguish different sounds. As we get to know you better it seems that you are very sensitive to noise. You get scared by loud (like the vacuum, yelling) and sudden (something dropping, G shrieking) noises. Your bottom lip sticks WAAAAAAAAAAY out and then you burst into tears. It’s very sad and cute at the same time, especially when large crocodile tears slide down your cheeks.

Since birth you have been a dedicated nurser. You popped on and nursed the very first time and have been at it ever since. You are still eating every two hours during the day but have thankfully slowed down at night. You are settling into a pattern of going down for the night at 10:00pm and sleeping until around 5:30am. You nurse quickly, have a diaper change and are back in bed in about 20 minutes (unless I am enjoying snuggling you and then you stay with me for longer). Thanks for that. I can’t tell you how much better some regular sleep has made me feel.

One funny thing about you is that you seem to have an affinity for puking on me. It’s crazy how skilled you are at it. Daddy will hold you for an hour, pass you to me and you will instantly puke. Any time you or I have on clean clothes you will throw up on them in under 10 minutes. Last night I was playing airplane with you and you threw up on my face. There’s nothing like vomit in your eyes! So if there was one thing I would change, that would be it!

Some days I feel badly for you being the third child. I just don’t get to spend the time with you that I would like. Sometimes I feel like I should be playing with you and “teaching” you things more but I just don’t have time. I wish I had more time to cuddle you and just sit and stare at you. For all those times in the future when you’ll feel ripped off, I’m sorry. I am sorry for all the times you settle into sleep and get startled awake or plopped into the carseat to go pick up one of your siblings. I’m sorry that your baby book will definitely not be as up to date as your brother’s and that you likely won’t have as many sittings with a photographer (but don’t worry, I take pictures of you everyday!). I’m sorry for all of the times you’ll have to sit in your chair crying while I finish making supper or switching the laundry. I wish I could hold you every time you want me to but I have four other people who need me too. While I’m sorry for all of those times, never doubt my love for you or your place in my heart.

Even though it can suck being the youngest, there are benefits. I’m a way more relaxed and experienced Mom. I don’t listen so much to “them” as to my instincts. I don’t spend so much time reading all of the recommended books and worrying about your development. I’m not so strict about schedules and keeping you on one. You get fed when you are hungry, changed when you need it and loved whenever I can. Because I have so many things to do everyday, you spend a lot of time in the sling. You get to sit up at eye level and see the world instead of just lying on your back gazing at the ceiling. You really love being in the sling. In fact, you smile when you see me putting it on. I’ve also transitioned to cloth diapers (Mommy got a little crunchy this time around!). I feel good about the decision and know that you have benefited from it. Your little bum is wrapped in soft, organic hemp and we haven’t battled any rashes to date.

I think that having siblings is also a huge benefit for you. They love you so much! As much as they drive you crazy, you will grow up having a brother who reads to you and a sister who will dress you up as a princess and throw you tea parties (she’ll also play in the sandbox and ride bikes with you too). You will learn to share and love and be part of a family from your brother and sister. They are already protective of you and planning for all of the things that they will teach you. N showed me the other day exactly how he is going to teach you to crawl and walk and what books he will read to you when. As a grown up, I can tell you how great it is to have a brother and sister. You are a lucky little guy.

J, you are a miracle. I am so glad that God surprised us with you. Already I can’t imagine our lives without you. Your Daddy and I love you with all that we are. We are so thankful for you and blessed by your life. May God bless you, protect you and make his face shine upon you.

All my love,

Mommy

our v.g. long story

Little baby J is asleep beside me with his quickly chubbing hands folded in the prayer position and 12 colourful Ikea bag clips scattered around his head (you wonder why? They are toys from his doting sister). The other two are eating fresh orchard apples in front of the tv. Since I seem to have had enough sleep in the last 24 hours to finally string a sentence together (J just went through a growth spurt that tested my endurance and sanity), I thought I’d finally attempt to write about the day J was born.

When I last wrote about my pregnancy it was the night before J was born. I had a surprise membrane stripping earlier that day (I was 3cm dilated at my appointment) and was feeling grumpy about the whole thing. I ended up having a decent sleep that night but woke up about 6am with terrible back pain. Since this had become a daily occurance it didn’t phase me. I got up, ran a bath, soaked until the pain subsided and then went back to bed. At 7:40 I woke up again to what was my first contraction. Since it started in front and then wraped around to my back, I noted the time and went back to sleep. Ten minutes later and then ten minutes after that I had two more contractions. At that point I called T and let him know what was happening. In my usual fashion I said, “it’s probably nothing but I thought I’d let you know that I just had 3 contractions that were ten minutes apart”. We started paying attention to my contractions. They fairly quickly increased in intensity and started getting closer together. Since my last 2 labours were quick (6 and 3 hours), we now had two kids that needed care, my parents were just about to leave for the cottage and T’s parents were on an airplane on the way to our house, we thought we had better start making some calls and getting things together. I was planning on having this baby by noon so we needed to move quickly!

T called my Mom and asked what time they were planning on leaving for the cottage. He was all, “well you might not want to go just yet cause we think Rachel might be in labour”. My Mom and I wanted her to be there for the delivery so she abandoned the last of the cottage preperations, debated over an appropriate “labour outfit”, got my Dad on his way to our house (so he could pick up our kids and then T’s parents) and then drove up to our place.

While my parents were on their way to our house, my contractions got closer together and much more painful. Lucky me, I was three for three with back labour! J’s forehead was resting on my tailbone causing me to drop to my knees for each contraction. T would push as hard as he could on my lower back to relieve some of the pain with the counter pressure. Both he and I were sore the next day from the sheer force he had to apply!

By this time it was around 9:30am. My contractions were coming every three to four minutes. T loaded up the car and phoned the rest of our family members to let them know what was happening. When I accepted that I was really in labour I got really emotional about N and G. I knew that once I left the house that our lives would be forever changed. I wondered how the baby would impact their lives and how they would accept him. While T ran around somewhat frantically, I sat on the couch (in between contractions) holding my kids. I got T to take some pictures of the kids and I. Our last pictures before the baby was born. They were both so sweet, rubbing my back when I collapsed over the ottoman trying not to moan too loudly. N kept saying, “it’s ok Mommy. The pain will bring the baby and then it will be all gone! You’ll be ok”. G was ticked that the baby was hurting her Mommy.

Around 9:45am my Mom arrived. It was good to have her there. She is calm and reassuring. I was excited to be able to share the birth of one of our children with her. Pretty soon after my Dad arrived. I was in the middle of a contraction when he came into the family room. He had a look on his face that I have never seen before. It is probably rather disconcerting to see your first born in labour. T and my Dad got busy organizing the kids and doing I have no idea what else and my Mom and I “laboured” in the family room. After a couple of minutes I overheard T on the phone telling people that we’d be leaving for the hospital in about 10 minutes. I was all, “WHAT?” since we hadn’t discussed leaving for the hospital. Granted, my contractions were about 3 minutes apart but I was feeling too good… too perky yet to go to the hospital. I didn’t feel WRETCHED like you are supposed to when you are in active labour. T and my parents were all staring at me telling me that I had to go but I just didn’t feel like it was time yet. I was so worried that I’d get to the hospital and they would send me home (an ingrained worry from the previous city we lived in where you pretty much have to be crowning to get a room!). As we talked about timing, my contractions began to get farther and farther apart until they eventually stopped all together around 10:30am. I was so frustrated that I started to cry. To put it into perspective, G was born in three hours and I had been told all through this pregnancy that my labour would be even faster. Almost three hours had passed since my first contraction and suddenly my labour was stopping. Not cool! I ended up going upstairs to our bedroom and bawling my eyes out. I felt like an idiot for mistaking false labour for the real thing. I was upset that we had “sounded the alarms” for no reason. T reassured me that it wasn’t false labour but that it was just going differently than my previous two. Never-the-less, I laid in my dark bedroom and cried. My Mom came up and I was sobbing that this was exactly how I didn’t want things to go. It was the worst thing I could imagine, blah, blah, blah. After a good cry I decided to just chill out and roll with it however my labour decided to go.

Around 11am (I’m probably backtracking a bit in the time line here) my Dad left with the kids to go pick up T’s parents at the airport. T’s Mom had been hoping and praying that I would have the baby while they visited. I sincerely thought there was no way that it would happen. Suddenly they were on an airplane, I was supposedly in labour and they had no idea! Once the kids left we decided to just hang out for a bit and see what would happen. My Mom and T did a bunch of things that I was obsessing over. You know really important things like getting all the streaks off the kitchen table, making up the burgers I had planned for supper and paying the bills due over the next two weeks! They were good sports about my neuroses and didn’t make too much fun of me and I controlled myself and didn’t ask them to move the boxes in the basement that had been bugging me for a week!

Sometime around noon I got hit with a pretty strong contraction. Yeah, they were coming back! Maybe I would have a baby afterall! This time they were much more intense than my earlier ones. I had to really focus to get through them and was feeling uber grumpy. I remember telling my Mom that this was it because I wasn’t feeling like being nice anymore! T called his parents at 12:30 when he figured that they would have connected with my Dad and the kids. They had just said hello and didn’t yet know why my Dad was there and not us. Needless to say they were thrilled that I was in labour! We carried on at home until about 2:15 when we left for the hospital. By the time we got up to labour and delivery my contractions were overlapping. The nurse at triage was lecturing me for not coming in sooner and was royally pissing me off. She made me lie down on my left side and hooked me up to a bunch of stupid monitors. I was getting madder and madder because that was about the worst possible position for me to labour in. After a couple of minutes of unbearable contractions I got up and just did what felt good for me. The nurse came back and checked me. We were all pretty sure that I would be almost complete and ready to push. I had already been in labour longer than both of the other kids and was pretty ready to be done with it. Imagine my utter dismay when the nurse told me that I was 4cm dilated! I was 3cm the day before and had taken 7 hours to dilate ONE CRAPPY LITTLE CM? I burst into tears and was sobbing to T. I completely lost my focus and my nerve. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this”. Even the hardcore lecturing nurse felt badly for me. T was really good about helping me to calm down and refocus.

At this point they sent me over to my room in Labour in Delivery but I was no longer the emergency we had all imagined! I was still pretty upset when we got to my room. All I could think about was how long this was all taking and how much it sucked. I was exhausted from the back labour and dismayed to think how long it was all going to take. After a few minutes I found myself in the bathroom bawling to T again. I had planned to have a drug free labour but I didn’t think I could do it much longer, especially when I was hardly making any progress. “Am I a wuss if I get an epidural?” I cried to him. He told me that it was ok and that I should do it if it would help me to feel more positive about my labour experience. I just didn’t think that I could deal with the pain much longer when there didn’t seem to be any purpose to it. Everything was going differently than I expected and hoped so I realized that I needed to adjust my birth plan accordingly. Why act the maryter and suffer when I could have a break and relax for a while?

When we came out of the bathroom the nurse asked me if I’d like to have the doctor break my water to try to speed things up. I said that I’d do whatever it took to get my labour overwith! We decided that she would call both doctors and whoever got their first would determine the order (ie. either break my water or get the epidural if necessary). I was pretty disappointed when the doctor arrived first. I had flashbacks to G’s labour when the doctor broke my water and I found myself screaming in pain. I totally chickened out at that point and decided to wait to have my water broken until after I got the epidural. Looking back, things would have progressed more quickly had the doctor broken my water then but I was feeling so weak and unfocused. I didn’t want to lose control and be pulling out T’s hair in pain. I don’t really know how things would have gone but I am glad that I decided to mange my pain and have a controlled delivery.

Just before 4pm T called home to see how things were going. His parents had arrived at our home and were given the grand tour by N. Apparently he was very proud to show them our new house and tell them all about it. We were laughing about how strange it must have been for T’s parents to be at our house for the first time with my Dad instead of us. T let them know that I was waiting for an epidural and that we would keep them posted.

Around 4pm the “Candy” doctor arrived and gave me her goods. Within minutes I was feeling relaxed and back in control. At 4:30pm the doctor came back in to break my water. He checked me first and I could hardly believe it when he told me that I was only 5cm dilated. I was pretty sure that I would never have the baby! I had been in labour for 9 hours and was only half way. I had both of our other two kids by that time! Needless to say, I was very glad for the epidural. T called our family members and let them know that it was going to be a really long time. We told his parents and my Dad that since visiting hours were only until 8pm that they probably wouldn’t be able to see the baby that day… if we even had him!

Now that I was comfortable my labour could go on cruise control. I decided to find the humour in the impossible length of my labour instead of focusing on how annoying it was. My Mom rustled up some supper for she and T. It kind of sucked when they got to eat and I thought that I couldn’t. I was absolutely starving and feeling kind of cranky about it (the whole R family rage hunger thing). My nurse, bless her heart heard me complaining and said that it would be fine to have some clear soup. My Mom went back downstairs to find me the aformentioned soup. It was about 5:10pm by this time. While she was gone I was really complaining about how much my back hurt. I asked the nurse to move me to my right side to see if it would help. It only got worse and worse. After a few more minutes of my whining she decided to check me. SURPRISE! I was fully dilated and ready to deliver. Rock on! I was all, “that’s what I’m talking about!”. The nurse paged the doctor and I mentally paged my mother. It would have devastated her to miss the delievery after all that labour! My Mom arrived back around 5:25ish. The nurse suggested I give a practice push to see how things will go. T took one leg, the nurse took the other and my Mom stood near my head. I had hardly started to push when the nurse rather emphatically told me to stop! Turns out the baby was crowning. Another nurse rushed in they kept telling me to just breathe… DON’T PUSH…breathe…wait for the doctor…breathe. “I’m breathing but he is coming…”, I said as I could feel my body taking over. After what felt like a really long time the doctor arrived, still chewing his supper. As soon as I saw his face I started to push. After two pushes my little man was born! Little J was pink and perfect and we were thrilled!

welcome…finally!

I am very late but terribily happy to announce the arrival of our third child, a little boy born on August 9th at 5:35pm EST weighing 7 pounds 6 oz and measuring 20.5 inches long. I had my longest labour yet at 10 hours but feel like it was a positive experience overall. Little J is very laid back and easy to care for. He is perfectly formed, very cuddly and an absolute joy. We are so glad that he has come to join our family.

Once I figure out how to manage my time with three children, I’ll expand on his birth “story”.