the beauty beside me.: September 2011

The last couple days have been difficult. We are in the midst of making some big decisions and some big changes. My brain this morning very closely resembles scrambled eggs. So this post is going to be a little scrambled. I'll call it stream of consciousness- it sounds a little nicer.

my brain- dismiss the perfect presentation, and the deliciousness.

*My house is a disaster* there are blocks strewn all over the floor. There are dirty dishes on the counter, and in the sink, and on the ottoman, and there is a water cup festival taking up residence on both bedside tables. Not to mention the endless amounts of laundry teasing me from multiple rooms in this house.

*We have 6 weeks to move* We have decided not to renew our lease, but we don't know where we will be moving to, back to Denver - in which case we also don't know where we will work- or to somewhere else up here - in which case we don't know where, AND, that means continuing on with the job that leaves Dan unfulfilled. So we are left with a giant decision, stay in Vail and be unhappy, or move and not know where we'll get paid. Crazy... a decision like this means stress. Stress. S.T.R.E.S.S.

*It is too cold outside* We left summer in Vail, to go to Jamaica and be hot and sweaty and in the perfect sun, and returned to winter. The fall season was passed over as last night we recieved our first winter storm warning. Yuck. I am reminded that when the winter season is here, it is a lot more lonely for a stay at home mom as we cannot really play outside. No longer can we sit barefoot on our porch and enjoy the mountain views. Instead, we sit inside, most likely in the basement, and most likely with the tv on creating a constant white noise hum.

*This is a phase* I have heard so many times other mothers reminding each other that whenever things are hard to tell yourself that it is just a phase. This is a phase. This is a phase. This is a phase. We have had a stressful phase before. We will have more stressful phases to come. This is a phase. This is a phase.

This.Is. A. Phase.

*I am a good mom* No matter what is happening inside my head or in Dan's and no matter the stresses that surround our family right now, I am a good mom. I must remind myself of this. No I am not the best cleaner, I am not very organized, I leave my mail in the box for sometimes weeks, I am a couple days behind on scheduling a routine doctor check up for Kai, I let Kai watch movies whenever he wants, we don't keep good schedules, and most of all, I. Hate. Laundry. But I have the most perfect son. He is healthy, he is so happy, he is smart. And I have so much love in my heart for him. And I am a good mom. My son has an amazing personality, and Dan and I are good parents. Sometimes, I need to remind myself that no matter what I think a good mom is supposed to look like- the June Cleaver type- I have the most happy, smiley little man, and that says something. I don't need those damn pearls to prove anything.

*the 4:30p.m. sprint* most days, around 4:30p.m. I think "Okay, Dan will be home from work soon. How in the world can I run a sprint around this house to make it look like I was uber productive today?" Please God, don't let me be the only stay-at-home-mom that runs the 4:30 sprint. It's the time of day where I achieve the most, in the least amount of time. Dan doesn't expect me to do anything, or demand anything from me, and accepts fully the woman he married, but still I sprint. He knows that he will almost surely never find me in pearls and heels vacuuming, unless of course it is Halloween, or a sick joke meant to taunt him. But still I will sprint. I need to train more for something like the day long marathon. Honestly though, I hate running.

My brain is a scattered mess, much like my house, and for that matter, this post too.

But I am trusting and praying that the stress will soon be relieved, and with that, my brain and my house will be unscrambled and put back into order. God has a plan, greater than our own, and so I will be patient and wait.

Here it is. The last chapter in becoming a mother. It has only taken me fourteen and a half months to tell this story. And as I sit here with my sweet boy napping peacefully upstairs I am moved to tears thinking about the day I stopped just carrying this baby inside me, and actually became a mother.

After having so many visits to the emergency room, and leaving empty handed each time, I was so ready. Most pregnant women say that. But the journey that I went through to allow myself the excitement of becoming a mother was so up and down. It was hard. Some days, I was excited, the next, I was devastated and immensely frightened. By the time the day came I was ready. I longed so dearly for this baby to be in my arms. I struggled so much with the idea of being pregnant, I was so ready to not be anymore. I was ready to move away from the struggle and anxiety and anxiousness. I was ready for this little baby, Dan, and I to be a family. This time, I wouldn't be leaving without my son.

06. 10. 2010

I packed and repacked my overnight hospital bag all day long. Never mind that it had already been packed sitting by the door for weeks. Just like any overnight stay, I packed way too much. I spent so much time looking at lists online of what to bring for the birth. Fuzzy pink robe. My slippers. A few kinds of lotions. My make up. A brush. My razor. Toothbrush. A couple of outfit choices (I didn't know what I would feel like wearing). Sweat pants. Sweat Shirts. Two nursing bras. A few pairs of granny panties. Socks. A lavender scented neck rest. Two pillows. A journal. A couple of magazines. My baby's first teddy bear. A couple receiving blankets. A couple newborn outfits. A wrist watch with a second hand. Hard candy. My suitcase was packed.

Dan worked a half day tying up all the loose ends. We were shocked, and so blessed when we were told Dan would have a full six weeks off from his job once the baby arrived. This meant though that he had a lot to handle before the time came to head to the hospital.

While Dan was away I had so much time. I had all day to sit with myself and my child who was still inside me. I had time to sleep in. Time to rock in the new glider in the new nursery. Time to look at my round, beautiful, basketball of a stomach. Time to pray. Time for tears. Time for excitement. And time for a decadent, long, and steamy shower.

I had been alone with my thoughts all day. And when Dan joined me, we talked together about each of our own anxiousness, fears, and hopes. We made bets on what time our son would be born. We made a video journal touring the nursery, and telling our unborn child what mommy and daddy wanted for him someday. We told him what we were nervous for. What was most exciting. And I did one last spin to show my giant belly.

I was told that I couldn't eat a very big meal before going into the hospital last night, so we headed across the street to Olive Garden and had soup, salad, and bread sticks. They really have the very best italian salads. Mmmmmmmm.

After lunch we took our dog down to stay at the new grandma's house, and spent time with them discussing our fears, praying, and expressing our nerves.

Then it was time to head to the hospital. Because I was being induced I went in, scheduled, on a Thursday night at 8:00. I remember the drive to the hospital being pretty quiet. I was so scared. And I couldn't quite explain why. I had just barely gotten used to the idea of being pregnant, and I was so scared that I wouldn't be a good mom. I had this idea of the mom that I hoped I would become, and suddenly I was struck with the idea that I couldn't live up to the standards I had given myself. There was no way I am going to be able to keep this little helpless child alive. But I couldn't speak this out loud.

We got to the hospital and was met by my mom who didn't want to miss a thing. I'm so thankful she was there. The entire time she was there, she kept a notepad attached to her hands and would jot down notes about my labor, and the timing of it all. I love looking back on that timeline now.

everybody thought this was so funny.

8:18p.m. Once I was checked into my room and changed into my totally fashionable pink robe, I finally was able to relax a little. That is, until the nurse came in to start my iv. I have always had trouble getting my blood drawn or getting an iv of any kind. My veins always collapse. This time it took three separate sticks to get it right. I was crying, and received some pretty nasty bruises as a souvenir.

9:20p.m. I swallowed my first cytotec pill to prepare my cervix for delivery. And we started watching Zoolander, both to take my mind off things, and to drown out the sounds of labor next door. My nurse said another girl the week before was watching the same movie for the same reason. Who knew Ben Stiller was a calming source for laboring women. My friend Kendra came in to visit us, and when the nurses would leave the room, we really were having fun. She was a good distraction for us, and I think both Dan and I were thankful to have her there. At this point my contractions were 2.5 to 3 minutes apart but not painful at all yet. I wonder now if it was just the good company that made them not hurt too bad.

-The entire time we were in the hospital Dan had his video camera in his hands and continued our video diary. While there were times, I thought that was the most annoying thing ever, I am now so thankful that he did. I ball any time I watch it, the rawness of the video show just how emotional and beautiful of an experience we had.

-My mom spent the night on the little couch in the waiting room. She wanted to be there if anything happened in the night time. I'm still not sure how much sleep she actually got. She was such a trooper and was a huge support for both Dan and I. Never wanting to leave my side.

-The next morning I got my last meal. I ordered a toasted bagel with plain cream cheese and a couple apple juices. Hospitals have THE BEST apple juice EVER!!!! And the cherry on top was that I got to take a shower. Oh how, I would come to love and appreciate showers every day for the rest of my life.

06. 11. 2010

8:15a.m. The nurses (I wish I could remember their names. Most I loved, and one I hated. Bad.) came in and started me on antibiotics (I tested positive for strep), and started my pitocin drip. I was 3 cm dilated and 80% effaced. I was having hardly any contractions at this point and was totally ready to get the ball rolling. We made guesses about what time our little guy would be arriving and I wanted him as soon as possible. I said by 5:00p.m. "He better be here." Dan and my mom recorded everyones guesses both on film and written down, although, now I have no idea who won, or what the prize was. I was mildly distracted.

9:10a.m. The nurses increased my pitocin to 2ml/hour trying to move things along.

10:15a.m. My doctor came in to break my water. I had a panic attack. Dan had gone downstairs to move the car from the emergency parking lot, into the "I'll be here a while" side. I wanted him to be with me, holding my hand through every step. I was so afraid he wouldn't be there for this. I also knew, that once my water was broken, there was no turning back. I knew the labor would get more intense and painful. And all of a sudden I just wanted to keep this baby inside me. I didn't really have to give birth. But, Dan made it, he wiped my tears, held my face next to his, made me focus on his eyes, and gush, my water was broken. Right as I felt the gush, Dan's cell phone went off with a Star Wars light sabor sound, signaling a text message. It was the perfect comic relief that I needed to snap out of my tears.

10:30a.m. I started walking up and down the halls trying to let gravity do its thing. My contractions were getting stronger and more painful. So every couple minutes, I gripped Dan's hand a little tighter, we stopped walking, and I tried my hardest to remember all the Lamaze techniques I had learned. I thought I was tough. Dan and I had practiced pinching my arms and ear lobes and breathing through the pain just like our Lamaze coach told us to. That stuff really is just a bunch of bull when it comes to the actual labor pains. At least it was for me.

11:30a.m. Back into the room. I was gripping the side of the bed and Dan's mom came to visit. When she saw the pain, I think she left and would return later. I remember her praying with us and thats about it. I really was only able to think, or speak, or even live, in between contractions. That precious minute or so of relief.

12:15p.m. I got checked by my nurse and I was only 3-4 cm dilated and 90% effaced. I was disappointed I wasn't further along. For the amount of pain I was in, I thought for sure I would be at least 6 cm. I remember feeling pretty defeated.

12:30p.m. I got into the jacuzzi. I needed some kind of relief. The warm water felt nice for about 30 seconds, every minute and a half. Only in between contractions. Otherwise, everything was extremely uncomfortable. Dan was there with me holding my hand, and putting cold wash clothes over my forehead and neck. It was probably the most intense experience we had ever shared. I literally thought I would die.

1:50p.m. I had had all I could take. I needed the epidural, badly. After the intense prick and burning, ahhhh there was euphoria. I was ready to party. And anyone that could see my room after that point, would think that is exactly what was happening. We had probably 15 or 16 people in there. Everyone huddled around and prayed with us again. And of course bet on times and weight. My little brothers kept sneaking to the fridge in the hallway and filling their pockets with chocolate ice cream. Thieves.

2:10p.m. 100% effaced and still 3-4cm. The epidural, while heavenly, slows things down a lot.

4:45p.m. 100% and 6 cm. P.R.O.G.R.E.S.S.

6:15p.m. 100% and 8 cm. The end was in sight. However, our little man's heart beat was decelerating pretty badly with every contraction, so they had me lay on my side. Then my other side. Then I got to eat a couple popsicles, thinking that a little sugar rush might help his heart to stay at a steady rate. This didn't help either so on went the oxygen mask. I was scared. All of this preparation, and I didn't want anything to go wrong. For all the trauma and emotions that this child put Dan and I through, I was so scared that he wouldn't be born healthy. The fear had set in again.

7:25p.m. My face turned. I remember looking at Kendra, my friend that was part of the welcome party. And she says now, that she knew exactly what that face meant. My sister Crystal, was standing right next to my bed and I whispered to her that I felt something weird. She told me to just stay calm and wait to see if it continued. I wasn't sure how I would know when I was ready to push. And I definitely had no idea how it would feel. When the "weird feeling" didn't go away I told Dan to clear the room and get the nurse to check me. "I think its time." Sure enough, I was fully dilated, and it was time to push.

8:15p.m. Our sweet, Kai Woodward Lucas, was born. He had a knot in his cord and it was wrapped around his neck. This was why his heart rate kept dipping. He weighed 7 pounds 11 oz. (lucky numbers) and was 20.5 inches long. And completely healthy. My nurse (the one I loved) kept telling us over and over to make sure we let our son know that God has a special plan for his life. The fact that he turned out totally healthy, with a knot and his cord wrapped around his neck, was a true miracle.

- My eyes were immediately flooded. And the minute they laid this tiny being on my chest, the tears just streamed down my face. I could not control them. Giving birth is such a humbling and out of body experience, and it took a while to comprehend that he was mine. I had held plenty of newborns, but at that time, I forgot how to. I was so scared.

But also extremely blessed. I was going to try my hardest to be the best damn mother I could. I was in love. I was scared, but I was a mom, and I was in complete adulation.