Teeny Tiny Mackenzie

I've been putting off writing this post for a while. I wouldn't say I'm in denial, but I guess I just don't want it to be happening. And writing it down seems to solidify it as a real thing. Usually when I write about something, it's because I'm really excited or feeling really passionate, or because writing is cathartic for me. I tend to write about things after the fact, when I'm on the other side, and when I've learned something by going through it. But in this case, I'm still in the thick of it- er, the thin of it, I guess. I don't have any great perspectives to share yet. But by not sharing what we're going through, I feel like I'm only sharing our family highlight reel on social media. And I don't want to be a part of that.

Mackenzie has always been fairly small. She was born full-term at 40 weeks 2 days, weighing 6 pounds 9 ounces, putting her in the 29th percentile for weight. For the next 10 months, she trended right along the 15th percentile for both height and weight. And then, she just sort of stopped growing. Between her 9.5 month appointment and her 15 month appointment, she only gained 10 ounces. Her official weight at her 15 month appointment was a mere 16 pounds 11 ounces, which is in the 2nd percentile. Anyway, that's a lot of numbers (even for an accountant), but the gist of it is, Mackenzie is teeny tiny. And her pediatrician is concerned.

Before her last appointment, I sort of knew she hadn't grown much. I sold our baby scale a while back and she's too small for our adult scale, so I hadn't weighed her. But I knew she was still fitting into her 9-12 month clothes. Developmentally though, she was doing great, so I really wasn't concerned about her size. And then her pediatrician showed me her chart...

Womp womp.

Mackenzie's doctor gave us a long list of high protein, high calorie foods to include in her diet, along with instructions to really focus our attention on making sure she's eating and drinking well. We set up a weight check appointment in 4 weeks. And I walked out of that office feeling really bummed.

Most of the time I feel like I'm a pretty good mom to my girls, but suddenly I felt like quite a failure. I mean, I read to them and nurture them and slather them in sunscreen and limit their screen time. And yet, somehow I failed to do that one super important thing, that whole, make sure they grow thing. My head was spinning on the drive home. How did I let this happen? How did I not notice that she hadn't grown at all in three months? Where was I going wrong? Did I wean too soon? Did I wean too late? Did that even matter at all? I did of course know that she went through a phase for a few weeks where the only thing she wanted to eat was raisins... but how did we get to this point of nearly falling off the charts?

When I got home and read through all the lists of foods... I was actually really stumped. We already regularly ate 95% of the foods on the list. I was already providing her all of these things... eggs, cheese, beans, yogurt, oils, peanut butter, whole milk, etc. So again, that feeling of, wait, how is this happening? We eat 3 family meals every day, plus a few snacks. I would say that relative to the general population, we eat pretty dang healthy. Also, she doesn't even have any allergies, and therefore isn't limited at all in her food choices, so we totally have that going for us too. So how is this happening??

Her pediatrician asked me while we were there if meal times were a battle. And my response was no, not at all. She is always excited to come to the table and usually tries everything on her plate. She just never really eats large quantities of anything. And I hadn't been force feeding her anything, just encouraging her. She had done a mix of purees and table foods starting just before 6 months, and by 15 months was eating everything our family ate, just cut into tiny pieces of course. It feels sort of bizarre and isolating to be dealing with "slow weight gain" when there's so much media focus on childhood obesity. It's strange to be on the opposite side of the spectrum, which is equally concerning.

So over the past 3 weeks, I have been wavering between two extremes of feeling like A) a lunatic as I add tablespoons of butter to Mackenzie's foods, make bizarre super food smoothies, measure the ounces of milk I pour, and count how many bites she eats of everything on her plate... and then B)  telling myself to calm the f down crazy lady, she's perfectly fine as she is. 

Everything just feels so confusing - like her milk intake for example - she LOVES milk, but if she drinks too much milk, she'll be too full to eat a meal. But then what if she doesn't eat her meal anyway, do I give her an extra cup of milk because I know she'll drink it? or do I withhold and try to get her to eat again in 20 mins? By then she'll likely be too busy playing to have either. And what about fruits and vegetables? She loves fruit. But it generally doesn't have much caloric value. So which is more important, calories or nutrients? And which is better, getting her to eat 3 bites of something super high protein/high calorie (like almond butter), or letting her eat a whole serving of something she actually enjoys (like grapes). And she doesn't have any molars yet, so that eliminates most crunchy foods from her diet. We're on the go a lot, and I'm struggling to come up with easy/clean snacks. Then sometimes my mind wanders to... what if I didn't focus on feeding her healthy foods and just let her eat the junky Standard American Diet. Sugary cereals + chips + Kraft macaroni + juice + cookies + everything I've tried hard to only have in moderation. [No judgement intended here at all, I don't want to offend any one - we definitely enjoy all of those things too, I just really do make an effort to focus on healthy foods.] I bet she would gain weight! So would that let us off the hook? If she jumped back to her curve because she ate only crap? So then which one is really more important - eating well and setting up healthy eating habits or just gaining weight? And is all of this really worth my worry and effort, or will she just hit a growth spurt on her own one day? But then again, what if I take it too lightly and she becomes really sick or something because I wasn't focused on her nutrition?

See what I mean? Total lunatic. Ugh. Three weeks in and I'm exhausted, physically and mentally. I'm pretty sure having a psycho mom begging her to for the love, just eat at least two bites of pasta is not really helping Mackenzie. And it's certainly not good for me either.

I've reached out for advice from several friends and online communities. I received some really really great feedback, perspectives, tips and tricks, and support. But unfortunately, no magic answers. So I'm going to keep on chugging along with the peanut butter snacks and the cheesy scrambled eggs and the encouragement to have one more bite, please! And I'm going to cross my fingers that we make enough progress before our appointment next week so that I don't have to put her through any blood work and testing. Because my mother's intuition and my gut tell me that there is nothing "wrong" with her, she's just little. I don't really know where I was going with this post or how to end it, so I suppose I'll just say thank you for listening, and I'll keep you posted.

31

Earlier this summer, we joined the rec center in our neighborhood, and I started exercising a couple times a week. (Hello drop off childcare!) But my workouts were sort of lacking in direction and purpose. So about a month ago, I decided to sign up for a 5K. It’s just a local one in our neighborhood, nothing too exciting, but maybe another opportunity to meet people in our new neighborhood. And I kind of like running. Well, ok, I don't hate running.

The race is in October and it happens to be a few days before my 31st birthday. So I figured, why not set a goal for myself of finishing in under 31 minutes. 3.1 miles in 31 minutes for my 31st birthday. It's totally cheesy but I was pretty excited about it. I briefly considered posting a photo of my new tennis shoes on Instagram with a blurb about my goal as further accountability- but quickly nixed that idea. I mean, how embarrassing if I didn't make my goal and everyone knew it! Plus, I’d already told Maddie about the race. And trust me on this one, you do not tell a 4 year old about something unless you are 1000% positive it's going to happen. Also, I paid the race fee. So that seemed like enough accountability and I quietly moved on with my training. It would just be my own little thing and if I failed, no one needed to know. But it was sort of lingering in the back of my mind… I wish I could share this with everyone. I’m pretty open and share a lot on social media, so it felt like a weird secret? I don’t know. Anyone know how that feels?

Last week, I was working on a project for Maddie’s room, and I was hit pretty hard with the truth about my running goal. Maddie often struggles with self-confidence, especially when it comes to trying something new. For instance, writing a tricky alphabet letter or going down a big slide. I've been trying to build her up in every way I can before she starts preschool in a couple weeks. I’ve always loved the quote “She believed she could, so she did.” and I thought it would be the perfect addition to an empty wall in her room. I just love that idea. Believing in yourself so much that you can accomplish anything you set your mind to.

And that’s when it hit me. The reason I didn’t want to tell anyone about my goal, was because I wasn’t fully believing in myself. So I thought about my goal a little more. 3.1 miles in 31 minutes for my 31^st birthday. It’s been approximately 5 years since I've worked out, so running 10 minute miles seemed (still seems) a little daunting, but also totally doable if I put in the right amount of effort.

She believed she could, so she did.

So I gave myself a little pep talk, and I’ve been giving myself the same pep talk every day since: I believe I can meet my goal. I am going to meet my goal. I will run the 5K in under 31 minutes. I will be an example for Maddie of believing in yourself and achieving your goals.

But I’m not just going to cross my fingers and hope my shoes sprout wings on October 20^th. I’ve committed to running 3x a week, and I’ve set some milestones for myself: run 2 miles in 20 minutes by August 20^th, run 2.5 miles in 25 minutes by September 20^th, and then run 3 miles every run until October 20^th. In order to train in the mornings, I have to wake up earlier. In order to wake up earlier, I have to go to bed earlier. In order to feel good when I wake up, I can’t have a glass of wine before bed. I need to drink more water. I’ve been eating healthier foods. I’m doing everything I can to achieve my goal. And most importantly, I believe in myself!

So cheer me on, will you? Or better yet, join me in the race? If that’s not your thing, find your thing! If you’ve been quietly considering a goal, be confident. Be bold. Believe in yourself. You can do it!

She believed she could, so she did.

Families Belong Together

Hello, blog, my dear old friend. It’s been a while, huh? So let’s just catch up where we left off, shall we? The way that old friends do?

Life is finally leveling after moving to a new house, celebrating the kids’ birthdays, and going on a family vacation. And now that Mackenzie is [mostly] sleeping through the night, I’m finally getting adequate rest, and starting to feel like me again. The last time I was here, I wrote about turning a corner with colicky baby Mackenzie. I’m happy to report that she is now the happiest, easiest baby ever. She is so full of love, joy, and curiosity. Maddie is doing well, too. She really struggled with intense anxiety around the time Mackenzie was born, and again briefly last Christmas. But now, she is happy, healthy, and thriving. She’s excitedly learning her letters and dying to know what I’m talking about when I spell words out to Thomas. We are all settled into our new house and our old house is currently under contract with a closing date in late July. It was, at times, a rocky road to get to this good place we’re in, but by all accounts, our lives are pretty wonderful right now.

As I think back on that dark time we were emerging from the last time I wrote, I shudder. Mackenzie’s relentless crying, Maddie’s obsessive hand washing, and my own sleepless fog – it was such a nightmare. There wasn’t much happy going on then. There was a lot of crying and lot of questioning and a lot of fear. It was so hard and exhausting.

But…. even on our darkest of days, you know what I never once, even remotely, thought to myself? I never once thought, This place that we’re in so dangerous and so scary and so hopeless that we should leave. This country is in such despair and our lives are in jeopardy, so we need to grab the children, the clothes on our backs, and flee our home.

I mean, really, can you even imagine? I am a genuinely very empathetic person, but I just can’t even fathom weighing out that pros and cons list with Thomas. So here’s the plan: we’ll leave at midnight, we’ll be traveling roughly 2,000 miles by foot, train, and then with sketchy smugglers. The trip will take weeks and we’ll spend every last penny of our small savings. The kids will probably get sick, our shoes will wear out, and our bodies will be so worn and so weak and so sunburned. We’ll enter a country where we don’t speak the language and half the citizens don’t want us there. We’ll have nothing of value left to our names, but we’ll have each other. And we’ll have a chance at a better life. Yep, ok, let’s do this.

Can you even imagine? I mean, why would people even attempt that? I would guess it’s because things at home are absolutely that bad. That scary. That painful. And that hopeless.

And then, could you imagine, that horrifying journey is finally coming to an end. You can see the border up ahead. The sun is shining and the red, white, and blue flag is flying. Finally, so close. You can feel the relief and the excitement and the safety in your bones. Your children are going to be ok. Tremendous relief as you cross over that border. But suddenly it all comes crashing down. There are border patrol and sirens and chaos as your children are wrenched from your arms. You can’t understand anything they’re saying, but you knew it was illegal to enter the country and it was a risk worth taking. Everything you had dreamed about is suddenly crushed. Worse yet, your son and your daughter are taken from you. Your sweet babies. And for weeks, you have no idea where they are. Who is feeding them? Who is bathing them? Who is holding their hand while they fall asleep? Are they scared? Are they crying? Are they warm? Are they… alive?

It’s really just too much for me to bear. The fourth of July has always been my favorite holiday. I love everything about it – the sun, the bbq, the fireworks, the patriotism. But something just doesn’t feel right with it this year. My heart breaks for the families who wanted so badly to celebrate this holiday too, but are currently separated from one another in an unfamiliar place. I understand that it is illegal to enter the country unauthorized. I do. I am a rule follower and I appreciate laws. But I have also never been in a position to feel like taking the risk of entering another country illegally was the only way to save my family. I wish it were easier for families to seek asylum. And I 1000% believe that families belong together.

I’m not entirely sure what my point was in writing this post. I've missed writing, and this topic has been weighing heavily on my mind. I don’t have any answers and I don’t even have any ways to help. I guess I’m just looking for some community maybe? To know that I’m not alone in feeling this way? Maybe to share how my perspective of the “struggles” in my life has changed as I read stories about families crossing the border. I’m just so eternally grateful for the life I’m living. If you know of any ways we can help – please share them with me?

The Colic Days

Mackenzie is 4.5 months old now, and finally, we are on the other side of colic. The first 3.5 months of her life were the longest and hardest months of mine. 

When she was about 2 weeks old, Mackenzie began to cry a lot. Like a lot a lot. Not just cry, but scream. Body thrashing, red-faced, ear-piercing screaming. The generally accepted definition of colic is: 3 or more hours of crying, 3 or more days of the week, for 3 or more weeks. When I first read it to Thomas, we both laughed and laughed. 3 days a week? Mackenzie screamed that much every day. She would cry until she was too exhausted to cry any more. Evenings were the worst, but there would be fits of inconsolable crying all throughout the day. Pretty much if she wasn't eating or sleeping, she was crying. We would only get 5-10 minutes of awake and content baby before the crying ensued. It wasn't even long enough to take a quick shower or make a cup of coffee or brush my teeth.

We tried [what felt like] everything to stop the crying. Endless amounts of bouncing, walking, rocking, swaying, holding. We tried gadgets and contraptions- a swing, a mamaroo, a rock n play, a Dockatot, sound machines, vacuuming, gas drops, probiotics, essential oils, on and on and on. She hated (still hates) the car seat and stroller. The only way I could calm her was to wear her, and even that didn't work sometimes. It was so so exhausting. Physically and mentally exhausting. Most nights she would be up every 2-3 hours and often it would be every hour or more. She wanted to be held all night long, and I was turning into an absolute zombie.

I could feel my heart hardening as I listened to her constant crying; unable to help her, I just had to endure it. I felt cold. I was overly emotional at times from the usual postpartum hormone changes, but more often, I felt emotionless. Like I was just going through the motions of caring for this little being who hated me and everything about the world she was born into. I had a hard time connecting with her. At one point, I even googled the Baby Moses laws in Texas, but it was too late - I'd already crossed the 60 day mark so I couldn't drop her at the fire station. 

Our pediatrician (and the hundreds of articles I read) said the colic would likely peak around 8 weeks, then diminish by 3 to 4 months. 3 to 4 months sounded like an absolute eternity. And it went very slowly. When well-meaning people commented something like, "I can't believe she's already 2 months old!" I was like, glad it went by fast for you, these were the longest two months of my life.

And all the while I still had to care for the house, the dog, the cooking, the cleaning, myself?, oh and our three year old, Maddie. Bless her heart, she weathered the storm well. There were occasions where we'd all 3 be bawling, but for the most part she was patient. Gone were the days of our daily outings, play dates, and predictable schedules. That's hard for a 3 year old! She watched (still watches?) way more TV/iPad than I'd like or than I want to admit to you. But it was seriously just a time of survival. I cried almost every morning when Tom left for work, and on several occasions called mid-afternoon begging him to come home early because I couldn't handle the next few hours alone. I was terrified of being alone with the baby. I felt like I was failing and I wasn't an adequate mother for my girls. I couldn't help Mackenzie feel better. I couldn't give Maddie the attention she needed. Why couldn't I handle having two kids? I would sit in the dark, rocking Mackenzie to sleep, and cry as I watched Maddie play on the iPad. I felt so bad for her and I started feeling resentful toward the baby. It was all so hard.

When Mackenzie was three weeks old, we made our first big attempt at stopping the crying. We had a laser procedure done to correct her tongue and lip ties. Those are the little pieces of skin that can connect your tongue to the floor of you mouth and your upper lip to your gums. They can cause feeding issues, speech issues, and more. For ten days after the procedure, we had to "massage the wounds" 3 times a day to prevent the skin from reattaching. AKA I had to rub my fingers across the sores in her mouth. Of course she screamed when I did so and it made me feel awful. I didn't want her to think her mother was hurting her purpose. The procedure gave us some improvement in breastfeeding, but it was hard for her to un-learn the bad latch habits she had from her ties. We saw a lactation consultant and that was also helpful. But still, she cried. And cried and cried.

When she was two months old, I decided to cut dairy from my diet. A friend had suggested it and I initially rejected the idea because Mackenzie didn't have the same symptoms as Maddie, and honestly, it's a big hassle. Our pediatrician didn't recommend cutting dairy until I had actually seen blood in her stool. But I was getting desperate so I decided to give it a shot anyway. Low and behold, it made a big difference for Mackenzie. It took a few weeks, but gradually her tummy troubles resolved and her crying lessened.

At three months, she was no longer content to nap in the carrier all day (and I was exhausted from wearing her so much), but she wouldn't nap for longer than 30 mins anywhere else. After a short nap, she could only be awake for an hour before needing another nap. I felt like I spent the entire day trying to get her to sleep or stay asleep. And yet she was still so overtired and cranky. I was desperate again to try anything so we borrowed a swing from our friends. It was magical, absolutely magical. She loved the swing and would nap for 2+ hours in it. Truly, that swing saved my sanity. I was able to spend one-on-one time with Maddie, eat warm meals, and rest my weary body. It was the first ray of sunlight we'd seen in a few months of dark clouds.

And slowly, as we inched toward 4 months, Mackenzie began to cry less. She started smiling more. The tension level in our house decreased significantly. Ahhh, this is what it was supposed to be like, we thought. Maddie and Mackenzie started interacting. It was beautiful.

The day before Mackenzie turned 4 months old, I started a new bible study for moms. When a friend invited me and mentioned that childcare was included, I was like, sign me up! The real reason I joined is for Maddie (that's another topic for another day), but the thought of dropping Mackenzie in the nursery and leaving her for two hours sounded amazing. When the day actually came, I felt anxious leaving her. Not because I would miss her or because I worried about someone caring for her, but because I wasn't sure if she would nap in the nursery and I dreaded the grumpy afternoon that would follow. Less than an hour in, I got the call that Mackenzie was inconsolable. As I drudged back to the nursery, I felt frustrated and defeated. I opened the door to hear her screaming her little lungs out while the poor grandmother holding her tried to distract her by the window. As the nursery volunteer passed Mackenzie to me, she quieted immediately. She nestled into my shoulder and let out a big long sigh. My heart melted into a puddle on the floor. She does love me. The nursery volunteer commented about how amazing it is that little babies know exactly who their mothers are. In that moment, I was exactly what she needed. And it was exactly what I needed. I was everything to her and all she wanted. She doesn't hate me. I am enough. It was a special moment for me and it really helped me view my beautiful baby in a new light. After a few minutes of snuggles, she was sound asleep in my arms, right where she wanted to be.

I know we'll have other struggles through the years as Mackenzie gets older, but we are so glad to be out of the colic days. If you ever find yourself parenting a colicky baby, please reach out to me! I'm here to give hugs and lend an ear. It's seriously one of the hardest things I've been through and I would love to help you in any way possible.

Now, if we could just get her to sleep more at night... things would really be peachy around here! But I count my blessings daily that I have two happy, healthy girls. We'll sleep again someday.

Mackenzie's Birth Story

[Disclaimer – It’s detailed! It shares the nitty gritty details of delivery so don’t read if you’re squeamish or easily offended!]

Mackenzie Louise Cooper was born on Monday, May 8, 2017 at 2:13am. She weighed 6lb 9oz and measured 19 ¾ inches long.

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Both of my girls were born at the same hospital, Baylor Scott & White Round Rock, and that is pretty much where the similarity in birth stories ends. Here is Maddie’s full birth story, but in a nutshell, I labored for 28 hours total, got an epidural, pushed for 2.5 hours, attempted a forceps delivery, and ultimately ended up getting a cesarean section. She was born at 7:39pm on Thursday, April 29, 2014. She weighed 8lb 11oz and measured 20 inches long.

In the wee morning hours of Sunday, May 7, I was awakened by contractions. I timed them for a few hours while I tried to fall back asleep – they were coming about every 15-20 minutes. When Tom woke up at 6:30am, I told him, “I think I’m in early labor!” He took Maddie to get donuts so I could rest and focus. But instead, the contractions stopped. Argh! It was the 2^nd or 3^rd time in the past few days that the same thing had happened. So I went on with the day as usual. I had already scheduled a “labor preparation” massage for noon that day and I was really excited to go. The massage was incredible – very relaxing. It went way over the allotted time, and the last 30 minutes was essentially an amazing foot rub combined with a super hippie birth visualization exercise. On my way to the massage, the contractions started again, and I had a few during the massage. I crossed my fingers that getting into a relaxed state would encourage the contractions to continue, and they did. I was back home around 3:00pm and the mild contractions continued throughout the afternoon.

Around 8:00pm, the contractions started to get a little more intense and they were coming every 8-10 minutes. I decided this was the real deal, and asked my mom to go ahead and come to our house, under the assumption that we would likely head the hospital overnight and need her help in the morning with Maddie. I also gave our doula, Sarah, a heads up that I’d likely be needing her overnight as well. When my mom arrived at our house around 9:30pm, I was still in good spirits. The contractions were continuing to get stronger, and were now coming every 5-6 minutes. My mom and I chit-chatted for a while, pausing when I had a contraction so that I could sway back and forth to get through it. Around 10:30pm, I considered drawing a bath, so my mom went downstairs to give me some privacy. About that time, I gave Sarah a call to see if she could head over to our house. She commented that I still sounded pretty chipper, and that generally in her experience, when a mom can still cheerfully talk in between contractions, she may not be as far along in labor as I thought I was. But she said she would gather her things, grab some caffeine, and head our way. I’m pretty sure I just have a cheery telephone voice ;)

Pretty much as soon as I hung up with Sarah, the contractions started coming much faster, longer, and stronger. I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to be in water, so I asked Tom to get the bath going – fast! The contractions were getting really strong and I started making what could only be described as dying cow sounds – low moaning and groaning. I tried using some mantras to get through them: “It’s not pain, it’s progress” “It’s almost over, it’s almost over” “Breathe, relax, breathe, relax”. When Sarah arrived at 11:30, she seemed a little surprised at how quickly my labor was progressing. She told me I was doing great, and to continue being vocal if it was helping. The contractions continued getting faster, longer, and stronger still – now coming every 3 minutes and lasting over a minute long. I changed positions in the tub a few times, trying to find the most comfortable way to get through the contractions. Sarah sat with me, squeezed my hips, and rubbed my back. Tom stood nearby – absolutely terrified – and used an app on my phone to time the contractions. Around midnight, the pain was becoming unbearable. I started shaking uncontrollably, having trouble breathing through contractions, and suddenly I felt a heavy weight with the feeling of needing to have a bowel movement during contractions. Sarah acted quickly – she told me that these were all signs of going through “transition” which is when you move from the “active” stage of labor into the “pushing” phase of labor. We needed to head to the hospital!

I did NOT want to get out of the water. When I stood up, I started to panic. It literally felt like the baby was going to fall right out (wouldn’t that be nice, actually?). I started crying and breathing fast. Sarah and Tom helped me calm down and get dressed. We left our house at 12:15am and headed to the hospital. The car ride was awful. I started feeling the need to push during contractions. Poor Thomas, I was making demands like, “drive faster!” “slow down!” “slower over the speed bumps!” and “stop the car!” (when we were literally 100 yards from the entrance of the hospital). We arrived at the hospital at 12:30am, but the front doors were locked. We had to drive around back and enter through the ER. They wheeled me up to L&D in a wheel chair, which was also awful. The nurse begged me not to have a baby in the elevator! When we arrived in our L&D room, there were lots of papers to sign and blood draws and IVs – it was all a bit of a blur. The nurse asked if I wanted an epidural and I said, “I’m not sure yet.” She then checked my cervix and announced, “You’re complete!” Meaning, I was already dilated to 10cm. There would be no time for an epidural! It was baby time!

The room was so bright, I kept my eyes tightly closed the whole time, trying to stay in my relaxed zone. At one point, our nurse was going to step out of the room and she said, “don’t push while I’m gone!” I looked at her like she was crazy and said “But I need to push!” She immediately pulled the emergency cord and our room was flooded with people. I started actively pushing at 1:00am, and good gracious, no wonder they call it “labor”. Pushing was hard work! And it was taking a while! Thank heavens for our incredible doula, Sarah, and my super patient doctor, Dr. Fernandez. Sarah talked me through everything, got me sips of water, put a cool washcloth on my forehead, and encouraged me when I said thinks like “I can’t!” Thomas kneeled beside me the whole time while I gripped his hand so tightly, making me more comfortable with his steady presence. At about the one hour point, Sarah got down beside me, looked me in the eyes and said something along the lines of, “You’re doing so great! But we all think you can give a little more. With each push, push a little harder, push a little longer. You are so close to meeting your baby.” It was just the pep talk I needed. The baby’s head was starting to crown and it was the worst pain I’ve ever felt – burning, searing, stretching. I used every ounce of strength I had, through tears, to push that baby out. Her head was halfway out through several contractions and I wanted to give up, but obviously there was no going back now! I had to muster the strength. And I did. At 2:13am, Mackenzie came out crying! When my water broke shortly after 1:00am, it was stained with meconium (meaning the baby had pooped), so there were concerns that she might have trouble breathing. But thank heavens, she didn’t. They placed her on my chest and I have never felt such a high. I was elated, relieved, proud, amazed! There is nothing like it. I cried happy tears as I looked into our sweet girl’s blue eyes. I did it! I succeeded in an unmedicated VBAC! I couldn’t believe it - I am such a wimp! My birth plan was to labor at home as long as possible and to *try* to make it without an epidural. By “as long as possible” I certainly hadn’t meant until I was fully dilated! Ha! But everything went so smoothly, it was just perfect. Mackenzie got to stay on my chest for the next hour or so, and it was incredible.

     

In all my preparation for the birth, I hadn’t really given much thought to tearing during delivery. Which is a really good thing, because if I’d known how painful it would be to get stitched down there without an epidural, I probably would have been more hesitant to push! There was of course, local anesthesia, but it was still a lot of pressure in a very sensitive, traumatized area. Thank goodness I had that beautiful girl in my arms to distract me. This was for sure my least favorite part of delivery. Everything leading up to that point had been progress toward meeting our baby and that made it more bearable. The stitches just sucked.

Around 3:30am, we let our families know that Mackenzie had been born. The doctors, nurses, and our doula slowly left the room and just the 3 of us remained. We tried to rest, but adrenaline and happy hormones kept us from getting any shut-eye. We talked about the night – how I’d gone from happily chit-chatting at 10:30pm to pushing out a baby at 2:13am. We were so surprised! Given the amount of time I labored with Maddie, we had very different expectations. We couldn’t get enough of our sweet baby and we were so thrilled to become a family of 4.

  

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After succeeding in a VBAC, here are my takeaways and pieces of advice for anyone wanting to attempt a VBAC, and really for anyone going into birth. 

1. Hire a doula. A doula is “a trained professional who provides continuous physical, emotional and informational support to a mother before, during and shortly after childbirth to help her achieve the healthiest, most satisfying experience possible.” Essentially, she is a support person for the mother. The doctors, nurses, and medical staff will be there to look out for the baby, but the doula is really focused on the mother. She will usually provide you with advice and support leading up to the delivery, at your house when you go into labor, at the hospital/birthing center, and postpartum. I really wish I had a doula for my first pregnancy. As a first time mom, there were so many unknowns when I went into labor. We took a birthing class, but when the day actually came, I felt clueless. How could I get through the painful contractions? When should I head to the hospital? When should I get an epidural? (I was 100% certain I wanted one the first time) While there’s really no point in “what-ifs”, I do wonder if I might have had a different birth outcome with Maddie had a doula been present. Maybe she would have encouraged me to labor at home longer, wait longer to get an epidural, or advocated for me when I was stressed out by the nurses yelling at me to push for 10 full seconds (ok maybe she wasn’t actually yelling but it felt like it). Anyway, hire a doula! Especially if your spouse or mother or whoever you want present during the birth isn’t a super cheerleader, or is nervous in hospitals, or if you’d be offended if they told you to “push harder!” – I probably would have smacked Tom if he told me that, but I wasn’t bothered when Sarah did.
2. Attend a VBAC class (or labor class if it’s your first birth). The VBAC class we took at St. David’s North Austin Medical Center was invaluable. The instructor was also a doula who herself had a successful VBAC. We talked through our memories and emotions surrounding our c-sections, discussed fears and concerns for a VBAC, pros/cons of VBAC vs. repeat cesarean, and more. I thought it was really encouraging and it was nice to be in good company with couples who had been through similar experiences.
3. Eat dates! There is an actual scientific study to back this one up. This article includes some discussion and a link to the study. Basically, dates were shown to shorten labor times for women who ate 6 dates a day starting at 36 weeks. Ever the preparer, I started eating them around 32 weeks, just one or two a day. They really grossed me out – they look like roaches and I couldn’t get over that. So I tried a couple recipes for different snack bars and energy balls using dates. At 36 weeks I upped my game and tried to eat 6 a day. I probably averaged more like 4 a day and sometimes forgot. I know that second labors are generally shorter than first labors, but 28 hours vs. 12 hours seems pretty significant. It can’t hurt so why not try!?
4. Drink red raspberry leaf tea. The support for this is more anecdotal. Here’s an article I read about raspberry leaf tea. It’s reported that drinking raspberry leaf tea in the 3^rd trimester helps build up the uterine muscles and therefore shorten labor time. A strong uterus is especially important for a VBAC mom because it reduced the risk of uterine rupture. Similar to the dates, I figured, worth a shot! Around 34 weeks, I started drinking Earth Mama’s Third Trimester Tea and around 37 weeks I drank Traditional Medicinal Raspberry Leaf Tea.
5. Take evening primrose oil. I know I know, another hippie thing. Here’s an article – it’s said to help “ripen” the cervix and get it soft for delivery. I was 90% effaced at my 39 week appointment, so I’d say it might have worked! I started taking 1000mg daily at 37 weeks (I only took it orally).
6. Read positive birth stories. I read Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth (happy to lend it out!) and I thought it was really fun to read the birth stories. In our culture, there is a lot of fear surrounding childbirth, and this book helped me to reshape my thoughts about giving birth.
7. Be confident and know that your body was made to give birth. But also give yourself grace if it doesn’t go as planned.

35 Weeks Update

I'm 35 weeks pregnant with our little Mackenzie Louise (we're like 99% sure that's what we're going to name her. I just can't bring myself to actually write it in her baby book though, it just seems so permanent and I'm having commitment issues). For a while there, this pregnancy really seemed to be dragging on, but now it is suddenly right around the corner. 35 short days until our due date! I had an appointment last Friday morning, where I told the doctor that I'd been having a lot of Braxton Hick contractions. She said that after the 34 week mark, they won't do anything to stop labor - which was both exciting and terrifying to hear. Let's all cross our fingers that I don't go into labor for at least a few more weeks! I still have 2 weeks of work, a long to-do list, and a soon-to-be 3 year old's birthday to celebrate. So basically, I'd love for her to come after April 23, around the 38 1/2 week mark :) Got that, baby? Great!

I really love a good excel file, as well as a to-do list, so a few weeks back, I put together a week-by-week checklist of all the things I'd like to get done before baby comes. Before the list, I felt so overwhelmed by all of the ideas swimming around in my mind. I couldn't figure out how to prioritize either, so basically I was just worrying a lot but not actually getting anything done. I haven't stuck to the plan perfectly, but it feels so good to have all of my thoughts written down and prioritized. Knowing that I only have 5 or 6 tasks to do each week and that every task has an assigned "due date" gives me a lot of peace. Upcoming this week: finish making a "big sister" busy bag for Maddie, clean all of our baby gear that has been in storage, and order a new breast pump.

A couple weeks ago, Maddie went to my parents' house for the entire weekend, and it was glorious. I love the girl more than anything, but the peace and quiet was so nice. I was able to tackle so many things on my to-do list without a little "helper" tagging along. Tom and I even went out for a date night! It's likely the last one we'll have for... a while... so we enjoyed it! Before we left, I convinced Tom to recreate the maternity photos we took when I was pregnant with Maddie. The Maddie pictures were taken on March 22, 2013 at 35 weeks pregnant, and the recent pictures were taken on March 18, 2017 at 33 weeks pregnant. Same dress, same camera, same field at the end of our street. We were just in time too to recreate them in the same place because a new neighborhood is going into that field this summer.

 

Madelyn - March 2014 / Mackenzie - March 2017

 

Madelyn - March 2014 / Mackenzie - March 2017

 

Madelyn - March 2014 / Mackenzie - March 2017

 

Madelyn - March 2014 / Mackenzie - March 2017

I am really committed to pursuing a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) with this baby, so I'm doing all sorts of hippie things to prepare for labor. I'm drinking raspberry leaf tea, eating so many dates, and taking evening primrose oil. I'm also walking a lot and doing plenty of stretching/yoga poses. We've even hired a doula to help during labor and I'm feeling so at ease knowing she'll be there for support. Are you happy, Austin? Look what you've done to me, turning me crunchy! ;) We also took a VBAC class at a local hospital. I feel really confident in my decision, and in my body, to take on this challenge. I am a major wuss when it comes to pain, but I feel like I'm so much better prepared for labor, physically and mentally, this time around.

I'm already done with the nursery, because it was really easy. Basically exactly the same as it was with Maddie. I just updated the name banner and put up a personalized print. For now, we have our guest bed in the nursery and the crib in our bedroom, since she'll sleep with us to start anyway, and we'll have a spot for grandmas to stay when they come help. The name banner looks a little silly without the tall crib underneath it, so just use your imagination. Easy peasy, done done done :)

   

And that's all I can think of! Did I miss any important details? Pregnancy brain in full effect these days.