Miriam's Birth Story (LONG!!!)

Well. The big boys are at church. The littlest boy is in bed (yes, naps trump church when one Ezra Lee decided 4:27 was MORNING ) and Miriam and I are sitting here. And it's my birthday.

I should nap. But, I've accepted that I am going to be tired and there's not a nap in this world that is going to undo that.

So instead, Miriam's birth story. My birthday gift to you. ;)

Hurray!

So, by way of back story, Ezra was born 20 months ago. His birth was rough for me. It was good, and it worked out perfectly, but certain aspects of it were very very hard. I carried a bit (a lot) of fear and anxiety throughout this pregnancy because of it. Would labor this time be as physically demanding? Emotionally? I couldn't handle the irrational fear that I was going to end up in some sort of identical situation. And I couldn't get passed it. I would jokingly tell people who asked about planning another home birth, that yes that was the plan, but I still wanted an epidural!

So, fast forward to Monday, August 13th. Kim, Midwife Super Hero Extraordinaire and her two fantastic daughters arrived just in time for dinner. Having my due date recorded at August 15th and having had every single baby at 39 weeks 5 or 6 days, we all joked that Tuesday would be the day.

Kim left a large slew of clients still pregnant, some OVERdue, and I knew that she needed to haul butt back home as soon as possible. However, I also knew by the time the boys were in bed that we'd have a baby by morning. I don't know HOW my body does this, but every single kid comes at the SAME time. It's weird. Truly weird.

I didn't say anything to anyone because I was afraid to jinx it. I'd been having contractions since week 34, some so bad toward the end, I thought labor might actually start. I didn't want to undo it if it was real. Silly, but still. Six weeks of contractions will make one do weird things.

We hung around, watched tv, and finally put ourselves to bed. Derek had blown up the pool and gotten the liner all ready earlier in the day, so we could rest easy, knowing it was all ready for water the minute I wanted it.

At 12:38am on Tuesday, August 14, Ezra woke up. That child is NEVER EVER going to consistently sleep through the night. Never.

He let me rock him for just a minute and went back to bed with no fuss.

And I was up for the duration. Contractions had started long before I'd gone to bed, but I had managed about an hour of sleep. Not great, but whatareyagonnado?

I woke Derek at about 1:45 to tell him "REAL DEAL!" and he got up and got things started. That man. I tell ya, he's a good one. I'm keeping him.

Next call was to Stacy, my dear friend and doula. I had asked Stacy before I'd even gotten pregnant this time around to come to the birth. We are really close, and without any real solid reason (after having had two home births with no doula present) I felt I'd need her.

Then we called Kim. Yes, she was sleeping in my guest room. But we called her so she could come whenever she wanted. It was funny.

Everyone wandered in eventually. I just did my thing until the pool was ready. (SOMEDAY I WILL HAVE A TANKLESS WATER HEATER... just saying.) Contractions weren't awful at all, really. Breathing mostly was all they required.

But.

Next came the worst part of baby-having The combination of baby's position, plus pain causes my extremities to basically STOP WORKING. Hands? Nope, can't use 'em. Arms? No, not really. Legs? Gone, other than insane cramping. Face? I can't even open my eyes or mouth.

 I can't say I enjoyed it ever in any of my labors and here it was again. So, everyone in the room got to help! Derek had to constantly (and by constantly, I mean, if he stopped for a nanosecond, I scolded him.) keep massaging my legs. Stacy and Kim were on hand-duty. It's the only thing that stops me from panicking.

It's really actually scary for me to not be able to do ANYTHING at all.

But, then after a pretty short while, baby shifted and I was fine. Ah, feeling. It was lovely. Contractions also took a big break which was welcome.

So, we chatted. Kim's daughters were also invited to the birth, so at some point, they had come in.

At one point, I asked what time it was and it was 3:30.

Contractions started picked up again.

And here is where all that fear that I had been carrying around for almost two years kicked into high gear.

I declared that I was going to be unable to continue in  the process. That I was terrified. That I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT. And therefore would not be.

Now, I have talked many MANY women through this phase of labor: that end when you're pretty sure you're going to die.

And I know all the right things to say to get a woman to find within her, the strength to let it happen.

And it ALWAYS happens.

So, Kim and Stacy (and Derek) said ALLLLL the right things. The things I've said countless times to powerful, strong, scared, tired mamas.

Bless them.

I could not, however, seem to find the words to explain that I was not JUST SAYING IT. I wasn't just done. I wasn't just in transition, I really really really meant.

I was not going to be pushing this baby out.

No. Really.

It wasn't going to happen.

I couldn't. I wouldn't. It hurt too much. I wasn't interested. I had reached a point wherein I was literally incapable of doing so. I was completely paralyzed with the fear that it was going to take hours and hours  like it had with Ezra.

Oh and my friendly neighborhood vasovagal issues crashed down on me with full force again.

So, here I was: a mess.

A sobbing, crying, can't-feel-my-own-body-EXCEPT-for-contractions girl, in a fishy pool, yelling at everyone to KEEP RUBBING whatever various body part they'd been handed (Kim's daughter had been initiated into the doula-role at this point, pretty sure she had my hand) fully dilated, refusing to push. Kim checked and tried some "guided pushing" which helped ground me a little, but the fact was, I wasn't going to push.

I pushed a tiny amount so people would leave me the heck alone. That made my water break.

But I was not pushing this baby out.

So, I breathed. Everyone seemed fine with that decision. I breathed. That's all I did.

Kim told me to find the baby at one point, and I did, and she was a good knuckle up. Fine. Be up there. I didn't care. She could just stay up there.

I was not pushing this baby out.

Just as I settled into my new "Screw all of you. I am NOT DOING THIS" routine of breathing through contractions, something changed.

My body decided I was done.

With zero effort from myself, the biggest contraction I have EVER felt in FIVE babies took over.

I screamed. I swore. I tried to STOP IT and it wouldn't.

I felt the baby move move move down and out. My hands were around her and she was out.

One minute, she was nowhere near here. 10 seconds later. she was in my arms. 


5:34am, Tuesday, August 14th.

Ouch. And I cried. Ugly cried.

Everyone was a bit... surprised to see that baby. According to Derek who was the only one at a good angle TO see anything said she shot out like a cannon.

Yes. My nether regions agree with you.

But here she was.

For the record: I did not push her out. I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't going to do it.

And the only thing I can think is that God knew I wasn't joking. He knew I really really couldn't do it. I wasn't being dramatic. I absolutely, as my little, ridiculous self couldn't. It was beyond me.

So, instead, SHE did it.

That was cool with me.

The boys had woken up EARLY today, of course, so Kim's girls had been regulated to babysitters and so, even though Kim TRIED to get them there in time, Miri had other plans, and they were right outside the door when she flew out. The boys came in just minutes later to see her and then went on their way to eat and watch cartoons.









 Eventually placenta came, and I got up and collapsed into bed.

The morning passed with weights and measures, and Derek and my poor Dad trying to figure out how to make the pump drain the stupid pool. They got it figured out, but I'm pretty sure my poor daddy is scarred for life.












It worked out. It was exactly what we needed. It was wonderful.

It TOTALLY sucked for a while, but that is pretty par for the course. My birth team was incredible. They never waivered from their "you can do this" stance, which is good because if they'd agreed with ME at any point, then I'm pretty sure that would have been the end of the "home" part of the birth. They were dear, kind, gentle, firm, helpful, smart, and present.

And I ended up needing every single one of them. I'm so thankful for them all.

It's hard work, this birthing babies thing, no matter what. Each kid is just so different. So, once again, here I am, learning, growing up and hopefully, being made into a better mother, person, and human.




Miri's stats again: 8lbs 2 oz, 20 1/4 inches long.

We all love her. And we're happy she's here!

And in case you missed it earlier : I did not push that baby out.

Yesterday

We welcomed Miriam Anne into our family yesterday, August 14 at 5:34 in the morning. 

She weighed in at a respectable 8lbs 2 oz, and then promptly pooped herself down half a pound. ;)
20 1/4 inches.

She looks like all the rest, most strongly resembling Oliver.  The fact that she is a girl is perfectly normal and doesn't feel "weird" at all.

However, Oliver did ask why we cut her penis off.

My insistence that we did NOT cut off ANYTHING fell on deaf, concerned three-year-old ears.

I will have to post the WHOLE story because it ended up being a story, but for today, I'll say, she was born at home, in the water, right where she belonged. 

She and God knew what I needed while I was busy trying to be the boss of things.

Like I said, it's a story, and I'll promise I'll share. But this mama is tired. And five children, as it turns out, is a lot.

So, maybe in the next few days I'll be able to put words into order to create a semblance out of what was an experience that I sincerely hope makes me a better, stronger person.

Pretty sure it will.

NEW

Nine and half years ago, my sweet husband-to-be bought me a lovely, sparkly ring. I really love it. It's beautiful. I told him before we ever got engaged that I didn't WANT a big diamond. But... well, my dude assumed I was being merely frugal, and bought me one anyway.

And I loved it.

But it's been... um... about 8 years since I've worn that beauty with any frequency other Sundays. I just found it to be  very difficult to keep on my finger. It's NOT that I don't think it's gorgeous. It is.

Frankly, it's just not practical. I wash dishes, wipe butts, work all day long with my hands. A diamond ring just isn't realistic TO ME (I know most women absolutely do not agree with me and go about their daily tasks with their rings firmly on their fingers. I do not knock these women.)

So, for the last many years I've been mostly, daily, ringless. I would throw it on for doctor's appointments and church but that was it. Proudly, it's never grown too small, not even in five pregnancies. But, still, it remains largely ignored.

My fab partner realized that I could use a band. Just a plain ole band.

And look what came today?

 An early (by a month and a day) birthday present.

What a guy.

And here I am 9 months pregnant, and it fits. I say this with great pride. :)

I am married again, right and proper!

The World's Longest Homebirth Story (the story not the birth!)

Okay.

So, Spencer decided that mommy having had a baby 72 hours ago meant it was TIME TO HAVE THE STOMACH FLU.

I know, right?

I swear if I'd had Ezra at the hospital, I would've refused to come home. Maybe I can go check in now.. what do you think?

I am MOSTLY kidding.

Kind of.

But seriously, I mean, like vomit? Really??

Anyway, I've been mulling over HOW to convey to the world Ezra's birth day. How can I explain to people, to the INTERWEBS, to anyone exactly how it all went down without sounding like a whiny, spoiled brat?

I dunno. So, I'm just gonna put it out there and ya'll can do with it what you want. How's THAT?

Hang on to your hats folks.

***
Let's start on Friday, December 3rd, shall we?

Kim, my good friend and fantastically talented midwife was flying in from Vegas on Friday. I knew when we moved to Utah that I *could* find a great midwife here, but I didn't want to. Plain and simple. Kim knows me, she knows my family, she knows my kids. She was available. So, she came.

Derek had to teach ALL day on Saturday and so I wasn't allowed to go into labor. I knew this and declared that then Saturday NIGHT would be the NIGHT!

It wasn't. We went to Temple Square with Kim to see the lights and that was a disaster of epic proportions thanks to a little Mister we call Oliver. He screamed, he cried, we went home. So, my plan to walk the baby out of me failed.

I was getting bummed only because Kim was staying 10 days and I really didn't want to be pregnant for 9.5 of them. Not to mention I (being spoiled) have never made it to my due date and really really REALLY didn't want to start now.

So, Sunday morning, I was awakened after a bizarre dream, at 6:00am, to the smell of pork. I had put it in the crock pot the night before for Sunday dinner and the smell was suddenly nauseating. I mean like, HORRIBLE. So I got up and turned off, checked on the kids who (miracle!) were all still asleep. I decided that today was the day we'd be having a baby.

I went back to bed and contractions started almost immediately. I had slept great all night, so I was happy to not be too tired. I texted Derek and said, "Totally in labor, just so you know." Yes, he was laying six inches from me in our bed, but I didn't want to wake him up!

The kids got up and crawled all over us, and Derek went to make muffins. (For some reason, the muffins were vitally important to me!) Alice was called to tend the kids, and Derek went to set up the birth pool.

Fourth baby, I figured, it's 7:30am, we'll have a baby in a couple of hours TOPS. I was worried Alice wouldn't make it in time.

HA!

Alice arrived in plenty of time (being 90 minutes away) and I was STILL laboring. And I was shocked and irritated by that fact. I should have been DONE by then.

Now, to be clear, I realize I was being irrational. I have attended a lot of births, I know you can not predict or plan how they will go.

But when every single account of a fourth baby you EVER hear/see/read is like, "I sneezed and oops! There was baby!" It is VERY difficult to not simply assume that will the case. Which is what I did.

Which was a mistake.

Alice took the kids away (upstairs) and Derek filled the tub. I was completely unable to decide what I needed or wanted at this point, so I was gently prodded by Derek and Kim into the tub, which, of course, was wonderful. I was feeling weird, and kind of pushy at the end of contractions, sometimes and other times like pushing was NOT my thing, and like it was all too much, and why was it taking so long? And why wasn't I done yet, and the water was too cold, then it was perfect, then too cold (poor Derek literally boiled pots of water for me while we waited for the dumb-butt water heater to reheat). And why? Why was I still pregnant????

Oliver's birth took two hours from the time I was "in labor" until "had a baby." The tub never had a chance to get cold.

Are you getting that I was extremely frustrated?

At this point, like always, my legs, hands and face totally lost all feeling. It is a really not fun part of my baby-having experience. I could barely make out words, much less really relay what I was feeling.

Then, the cramping. As if LABOR isn't enough, my legs (thanks to the walking on Saturday night, most likely) tied themselves up into knots that made it seriously unbearable to be ALIVE much less in LABOR. So, I'm totally freaking out about that, trying to explain to Kim and Derek, (They did get it, and started massaging them!) and trying to convey that I was starting to panic about the baby and labor being too long (four hours at this point).

So, I declared I was done. I made Derek literally lift me out of the tub (*Derek is my super hero, didjaya know?*). I soaked him entirely, while I just stood there and waited for feeling to come back to my limbs. It did, which is good. I went to the bathroom, and finally decided to have Kim check my progress. I really had no intentions of EVER having a check, but at this point, I was done, and if "done" meant 3cm, then "done" meant TRANSFER FOR DRUGS in my mind.

But I wasn't a 3. I was 10, with some lip. She kindly (and generously) offered to hold the lip out of the way, while I pushed the baby's head passed it, assuring me it would hurt "like hell," (her words). I consented. Because, remember, I was done.

Well, it didn't hurt, at all. I was like, "OH! YAY!" It felt so good to push (like my body had been TRYING to do) and not have a barrier there.

TMI? Sorry.

Anyway, I feel I should inform you that at this point, I had wedged myself on our tiny $30 Ikea couch and refused to get off of it. I let both Derek and Kim know I would be pushing the baby out right there. They were surprised to say the least.

Weird! I LOVED both my water births and really disliked having Spencer on dry land. Anyone who talks to me about water birth knows I.LOVE.IT.

Except not this time. The tub had been comfortable and roomy and wonderful, and I wasn't getting back in it for all the tea in China. No sir.

So, Kim and Derek protected the couch valiantly with chux pads (Kim is also a super hero, don't forget.) And I pushed and chatted and laughed and pushed. I was a whole new woman.

The Great Labor Freak Out of December 5th was over. I was almost done, I had feeling in all my extremities, I had decided my couch was my boyfriend, and I was GREAT!

Contractions were slow, and unpleasant of course, but I got really nice breaks in between. I asked Kim if SHE had ever encountered a fourth-timer take so fraggin' long and of course, she said she had not.

SEE? This is why I was so frustrated with the experience. I was a weird anomaly, and this bothered me.

Anyway, so once I finally resolved to just shut up and push, his head was out! RELIEF! Then, oh, then, the shoulders.

How I hated those little shoulders. In fact, I yelled (loud enough for Alice upstairs to clearly hear) "I HATE THE SHOULDERS!" The baby just didn't rotate fully and they sort of shot up and out at an *unpleasant* angle.

Not my favorite.

But holy hot dog, I had a baby. I grabbed him and pulled him up. SO SO SO relieved to be DONE and to have my baby, I promptly burst into tears... not something I have ever done before. (This birth was weird.) I was SO glad to be done, and SO glad he was here, and SO glad that Derek and Kim had protected the couch.

It was beautiful. He was beautiful. The WORLD WAS BEAUTIFUL!

From December 2010

Ezra, about 15 seconds old

Very shortly after he was born, Kim discovered a funny little something that seems to be cause of the slow, putzy labor. At some point in utero, Ezra had tied up his cord into a tight knot. Kim said she's seen three in eight years, and for some reason (blood or oxygen flow maybe?) it causes labors like mine, kind of not "text book." He was healthy and his heart rate was fine all during labor, but somehow between he and myself, he knew just how he needed to come.  I didn't, of course. But he did.

From December 2010

Knotted cord

Pretty incredible.

So, we slowly made our way upstairs, I showered and Derek introduced the boys to the newest member of the family. And we eventually weighed and measured. As I mentioned before, we were SHOCKED at how teeny he is. 7lbs of baby is small to a girl who births toddlers normally. He looks very much like Spencer did but he is all his own person.

From December 2010

From December 2010

Meeting the family!

From December 2010

Aunt Alice!

From December 2010

Henry weighing him. 

From December 2010

Kim, going for round two, he really is that small!

Ezra Lee, my little Ez. He's just a doll. Days and nights? Huh? What are those? Just nurse me all night long, and we'll be friends. Hold me all day, and I'm a peach.

I'm so glad that home is where we decided to have him, with Kim, someone who is so wonderful and calm and just so totally who we needed there. It was awesome.

I have been to many births and I have seen what seems like "it all" which is of course ridiculous. Every birth I go to, I see something new, something I hadn't encountered, something out of the "ordinary." And yet, in our world, we insist upon trying to control it all, with our own powers of intellect, or technology or drugs, when in reality, it just is what it is. I couldn't let go of my *own* preconceived notions, regardless of the fact that I know better.

Birth is the beginning, it's life, it's real, it's not pretty, and it just is.

Medicine and interventions have their place, and you will NEVER hear me say otherwise. But for me, I'm glad to have the chance to let it unfold the way I didn't know it needed to be. That was difficult. It was literally one of the hardest physical and emotional experiences of my life, those short SHORT six hours.

And after 72 hours with this little dude, I can say that I feel like before Sunday, I knew nothing about ANYTHING and I have grown and stretched a little further from the whole experience.

How's THAT for a birth story?

From December 2010

From December 2010

From December 2010

From December 2010

BOYS! EVERYWHERE!

From December 2010

Kim, my superhero!

From December 2010

My parents ran up from their house to meet him. 

From December 2010

They brought along my brother, who cleaned out my gutters while he was here. NICE!

From December 2010

Their "aunt" Lexi came on down too. Our house was CRAZY and it was a great day.

If you're still with me, thanks for reading!

Today is my due date!!

And rather than wallow in self-pity about still being pregnant, I thought I'd focus on the positive.

The positive being this little wee man:

Announcing: Ezra Lee 

December 5th, 12:02 pm

7lbs 6 oz

20.5 inches

Born at home 

We're thrilled he's here. He's so sweet and so tiny. Before Ezra, Oliver was my smallest at 8lb 12 oz. Less than 8lbs was literally shocking. Kim (the midwife) weighed him twice to make sure.

His birth was good and different than I had expected. I promise the story soon but right now he is bundled here in my arms and I don't want to type it all one-handed. :) 

This is YOUR life

So, the other night, I got down and dirty with Microsoft Word and typed up "The Care and Feeding of the Hagey Children."  I am inclined to do this each time I have a baby (I forgot when Oliver was born, which resulted in some trauma for Henry wherein a cup of white milk sent him into a tailspin...) Basically, it lays out our day. Who wears what, who eats off which plate, which show they are "allowed" to watch, etc for the various aunts that will be care-giving post-baby-birth.

Three pages of TINY print later, I thought unto myself, "Woah, does any of this really matter???"

And it does. Weird, isn't it? I am not the mother to children who will happily do whatever, whenever. They do indeed get all hot and bothered if you try to give Spencer the baseball bowl and Henry the basketball one. It's NOT RIGHT!

Oliver, as discussed previously, is OCD about his sleep habits. There is no pretending it's not true. He is a nut.

My extensive list of "Do's and Don'ts" for my children CAN be ignored if necessary. It really DOESN'T matter for a day, if they watch TV for 9 hours. Really.

But it's funny. To look at my life, my JOB all typed up nice and neat and see what it is I do all day, really. My life, my moments, my entire purpose for BEING at this point, all written down on three sheets of paper. In size 8 font. :)

That's my life folks. The Care and Feeding of Henry, Spencer and Oliver. Soon to include baby #4. And Derek is of course thrown in there.

Morgan: This is your life.

From December 2010

It's.... MONDAY!

Well. Let me tell you, it is MONDAY! MONDAY! MONDAY! MONDAY!

This is fine and all. Really, the days of the week mean almost nothing other than to help determine which job Derek is at and when for the kids. So, MONDAY!

Monday means grocery shopping though, and has for a while. See, if I can make it til Monday, then I can get everything I need at a NON-busy time because it's MONDAY!

Monday also means school for the boys and family home evening. All beautiful.

Today meant me getting to sleep in a bit thanks to a headache that nearly killed me (I took more drugs than pregnant people are supposed to take, but my gosh, I was dying!) and it's still there, lingering but much better. If I have one real pregnancy complaint, it's headaches. My goodness. But Derek herded the monkeys until I stumbled out, hang-over style at almost 9:00am. That was nice of him considering that they were up at 6:00am. (My kids don't really like me, and act like absolute hooligans first thing in the morning. Didja know that?)

This weekend marked SNOW SNOW SNOW which the boys absolutely love,

From Nov 2010

and I feel a bit conflicted over. I love fall, but winter and I haven't really come to a conclusion yet. I like it, but do I love it? So, the snow is supposed to fall until Wednesday, just in time for Turkey-festivities. That'll be good.

So, see? This week has promise already.

This weekend, Derek decided to do a birth-pool-dry-run since the last time took him longer than he wanted. I came home from a quick store run (I couldn't wait until Monday, we needed milk!). And I found this.

From Nov 2010

Apparently, my cheapo fishy pool is quite comfortable.

We also hosted dinner on Sunday night which was a blast and the boys made their aunt and uncle run around and play hide-and-seek and horsie repeatedly. I love it when OTHERS entertain my children. LOVE! Plus, it was fun for us too. See? See my crazy brother? You wish he was YOUR crazy brother. Hands off though, he's jail-bait.

From Nov 2010

So, if I don't talk to you until after the holiday of Thanks, then be safe, don't eat TOO much and have a good time.