Walden's Great Escape - A Birth Story

At long last – Walden’s Birth Story.

I really need to get this down before I forget everything! I spend the week following Wally’s arrival doped up on Percocet and questionably conscious, so it’s already not as clear as Ryann and Clifton’s births.

We had our c-section (due to the previa) scheduled for May 1, not knowing whether we would actually make it to the date or not. I traditionally start some pretty intense prodromal labor around 36 weeks which had a huge risk of causing a hemorrhage and from there an emergency c-section. We were crossing our fingers to avoid this for a few reasons – 1. Risks of hemorrhage to me. 2. Risks of hemorrhage to Walden. 3. Need for general anesthesia which would also mean that Jared would be left in the waiting room not knowing what was happening. Major flashback central. No bueno.

So in the days leading up to the c-section, I made a valiant effort to take it easy. Kind of. Ever since I had been put on partial bedrest I had been biking to work rather than walking. Sounds and looked crazy, I know. But we live just a couple blocks away and while walking over would cause contractions every time, I was able to bike over with none. I also felt a bit more mobile on my bike than I did waddling over, a bit like swimming. It was a funny comparison to my perfectly healthy pregnancy with Clifton when Jared outlawed my bike in fear of falls. This time I was on bedrest with a high risk pregnancy and biking became my main method of transportation. Whodathunk.

I actually became increasingly bad about staying within my bedrest restrictions as May 1 approached. I strongly felt the limited time that was left with just Clif and wanted to fit in all of the last things with him. We even had a zoo trip with just the two of us a day or two before. Not exactly approved activities. Luckily Wally stuck tight.

The night before and the morning of May 1 were surreal. Both of the other kiddos came on their own time and we labored at home with them for hours. This time we hugged and kissed Clif and Nana and walked out the door to the hospital with no signs of labor. It was bizarre to check in to the hospital and know that I would be laying on a table and sliced open in just a couple hours. So, so odd. Also nerve wracking since we had schedule this for three weeks before Wally was due and we had no idea how he would handle this. Three weeks is nothing compared to the thirteen weeks we had previously been staring down, but it’s still nothing to laugh off. Those last few weeks are typically spent still inside for a reason. Final lung and brain development is crucial as well as a lower ability to deal with outside stimuli. However, we were hitting the point at which the risk of keeping him in was outweighing the risk of taking him out.

I was prepped for surgery with two IVs, one in each hand. One was for the typical IV fluids and the other was reserved for emergency blood products, just in case things went south on the table. It’s not unusual for previas to have trouble coming out or for them to be something more complex than expected, such as accreta. We were gently reminded several times that if Jared were asked to leave that he would need to leave quickly and that I would be put under general. This also carried the risk of an emergency hysterectomy. We arranged for my Mom to be in the waiting room just in case Jared were kicked out. After everything we experienced with Ryann, I can’t imagine Jared having to wait out in the waiting room by himself. That’s a panic attack waiting to happen. At least this way my Mom would be there during the panic attack. Ha! Somehow a bit better.

Our midwife, who also delivered Clifton (or rather directed Jared while he delivered Clifton, crazy!), was able to be there as the assisting nurse. This was so awesome and calming. (We love Karen!)

Jared was also able to be there while they were giving me the spinal, which is not the norm apparently. Not sure why they made the exception, but I’m so glad they did. This point was probably the height of my nervousness. We were in the operating room, everyone was gowned, I was about to be sliced open. Eep! Up until this point I was excited-nervous. At this point I had some scared-nervous. But truly, still not too bad. There was even a hilarious point (probably frustrating point for the nurses) when Jared unintentionally contaminated the already scrubbed surgical field by poking at my belly to see if I had any sensation left. Whoops.

I got the spinal, my legs went dead, my fear of barfing on the table was not realized. Thank you, thank you anesthesiologist who preemptively gave me some anti-nausea meds in my IV. Although c-sections can be done in just a few minutes, if needed, my surgeon crept along. She didn’t know exactly what she would find and so didn’t want to rush. We also had no idea how much bleeding would be happening and so she was trying to control it as much as possible as we went. Jared asked to peek over the curtain as they pulled Walden out, so Karen told him “we’re about to break the amniotic sac”. So awesome and strange! Jared peeked over just enough to see Walden and not enough to see inside me, definitely not a medical junkie, that one. When Ryann was born, she was a little mouse. Hardly a sound, just a couple mews. Clifton cried, but pretty normally and then he settled down. Walden was pissed. His nickname around the house right now is The Rager and it was actually quite fitting from the start. He was not happy to be pulled out and he let everyone know. But as sad as it could be to hear a baby so angry, it was the best sound in the world. He could breathe, he could scream, he could respond. He did have a bit of trouble with one lung and the nursery and NICU nurses had a bit of a tussle over where he was headed. The regular nursery nurse pushed for just a bit of time to acclimate. He was given a CPap and put in a warmer and Jared was allowed to stick by his side the whole time. The CPap was removed after about 30 minutes and he was okay outside the warmer after a few hours. As much as I had hoped to be able to keep him with me from immediately after he was checked over, I ended up being just fine with having a bit of time to myself and to get semi-settled into my recovery room, knowing that Jared was right by his side.

As the NICU and nursery were working on Walden, the surgeon was working on me. Big grins all around when that trouble making placenta came right out and my uterus started contracting just as it should. No blood products needed. Best case scenario that we all had been hoping for.

My sis and her family came by to meet Walden through the windows of the nursery, since they all had a slight cold. My mom was able to get a couple pictures of Walden through the window so that I could see him while I was waiting. I had been able to see and touch him for about 30 seconds in the operating room, but after that he was whisked away. After I had been in my room for a few hours, Jared was finally able to push Walden’s bassinet over to my room and hand him to me. Best. Thing. Ever. It’s such a strange thing to hold this tiny stranger who I love so much and can’t wait to get to know. Right away we all said that he didn’t look like Ryann or Clif. Wally has a much longer face, both Ryann and Clif had super round faces. Wally’s ears stick out and he looked tan before even seeing the sun.

The hard part of this whole experience came after the c-section – Recovery. And by all accounts, I had a wonderful recovery. My surgery was at about 9:30am and I was helped up and across my room by 5pm. Not a pleasant experience. Especially not when compared with my other recoveries, especially Clif, where I could easily take a shower solo and wear normal clothes by noon! With Ryann and Clif, during my recoveries I never took so much as an aspirin. With Walden I had the normal percocet, massive ibuprofen, stool softeners, antacids, as well as two additional doses of morphine that first day. It also didn’t help that I still had a pretty intense cough from a cold the previous week. Every single cough was toe curlingly painful. The next day I started pushing the bassinet on rounds of the recovery floor. Three times per day was my goal and I had to sneak one in at 11pm that second day in order to make it. That day I couldn’t stand up straight, I was shuffling, I had to stop for breaks, and by the time we got back to my room I was holding by belly and couldn’t wait to lay down. Every day was a bit better and I was finally feeling close-ish to my normal self by 2 weeks postpartum. However, I didn’t feel fully recovered until closer to 6 weeks postpartum. By two weeks I could walk and bend and climb stairs at a normal pace. By six weeks I could carry clif and fold and load the stroller and go grocery shopping. I did all these things well before the six week mark, but it would always end with me bleeding like a stuck pig. Postpartum bleeding with Ryann and Clifton was done by 10 days or so. Walden’s lasted until about 8 weeks. Huge difference.

One thing that I’m really happy about is my lack of concern over my c-section scar. I’m proud of that gash. It’s bad a$$! Hells yeah, I had a living baby pulled out of my open womb! Just as proud of it as my other experiences. I labored for a full day with Ryann. I had Clif with zero medical intervention. I pushed both out in three contractions. Wally, I kept inside me until it was finally safe for him to breathe our air, I laid on a table and had my belly cut open so that he could be safely born, and I will carry the scar for the rest of my life. Birth is amazing.

Walden did have jaundice, just like our other two. But while the other two narrowly avoided the billi lights, since we were still in the hospital, they just threw little Wally in there for good measure. Just kidding, he really was getting quite yellow. This bought us an extra day in the hospital, which I was surprisingly fine with. I was a bit scared to have our giant-manchild, Clif, around my still super-sore body. Having my Mom in town to help watch Clif was a huge help in allowing me to relax and recuperate during my stay. Also, Percocet. That stuff really knocks you out. I was nodding in and out my entire time on it. Really glad I didn’t drop Walden.

We’re really hoping that our next one gets to be a VBAC, however we are at a higher risk for another previa. We’re still huge natural birth supporters and hope to have another, but we’re also so very thankful for modern medicine and what it can do for us. WHEN NEEDED. That’s the key. Our bodies are marvelous things, but sometimes they need a bit of help. Or a lifeline. Fifty years ago I would probably be dead. We are so thankful for the skill of our medical team and the options that were available to us.

And Clifton is in love with his brother.

Last picture of The Belly.

All three babes at three months.

Three Years Out

Two days ago was May 29, the day my daughter died.

Three years ago I spent the day rotating between the couch and the bed, watching episodes of Glee (there was an entire season available on Hulu and it provided just a smidge of distraction), fading in and out of sleep, waking over and over to a reality that seemed a nightmare instead.

We haven't watched a single episode of Glee since.

May 29 has become a day to remember the life of our girl and spend time as a family. We make a trek to the Lincoln Children's Zoo every year, a place we intended to take Ryann on May 29, 2011 and a place we visited with close friends and family after her burial.

This year, Jared and I also made time for the two of us. After we put Clifton to bed, we bundled up the littlest dude (who kindly stayed asleep the entire outing) and went out for a leisurely, late dinner at Blue Orchid, the restaurant we took a small group to after our zoo outing three years ago.

This year brought a new freshness to our grief, as a friend had just lost her youngest son a couple days before. And in light of these losses, I would like to share a list of things that helped Jared and me in the aftermath of losing Ryann and things that might help your own family and friends if you're at a loss.

• being inundated with Facebook messages, especially with no expectation of a response. Just a virtual hug to let us know how many people had been touched by her in her short life and how many people were grieving with us. 
• sharing memories. Memories are the most cherished and most fleeting things, such a frustrating thing to know that we don't remember everything. Any little memory that can be shared is the most wonderful thing, even just a memory of seeing her walk down the street. 
• anything that might help to check out from the present for a few moments - movie tickets, gift certificates to restaurants, invitations to visit friends out of town.
• helping to pay expenses. The expenses after something like this is astronomical, even with good insurance. And then the real indignity is having to pay for a funeral on top of it all. Friends helping to cover these things is such a meaningful, needed, and tangible way to support.
• creating a memory book, memory Facebook page, etc. where everyone is free to contribute and all the memories are consolidated in one place.
• checking in down the road. Even just a quick note of 'how are you doing these days?' in the weeks, months, and years to come. That means a lot.
• flowers. I had never really understood how meaningful sending flowers to a funeral could be. We were so buoyed by the flowers that were sent to the funeral by different families, groups, and churches. So amazing.

Also, a good rule of thumb is this. We have had our fair share of hurtful and inappropriate comments, and although we know that they are well meaning, they stung (or sometimes sucker punched) just the same.

Do not add to the hurt. Be a support.

My darling girl and me, just shy of three months.
Photos of the two of us aren't that common, since I was often the one behind the camera.

Walden Elder Hiscock

Behold! A very delayed and very brief announcement that Walden has arrived!

I will be popping in soon in order to tell an actual birth story (as well as finally tell Clifton's birth story). But until then, let these stats and all this adorableness bridge the gap.

Weight - 6lb 7oz. He dropped down to 5lb 14oz, but is now up to a hefty 6lb 13oz. As of yesterday we wanted to see him hit his birth weight again. He well surpassed that. (These 'current' stats are as of his two week appointment. He's now over 8lb!)

Length - 19.5in

Time - 9:22am

He has dark blue eyes, dark brown hair, and seems to resemble the Hiscock side of the family. So far we're all thinking he favors Grandpa Hiscock and Uncle Vincent. He definitely has a look distinct from the other two kiddos.

A few teeny weeny newbie pictures.

And a more recent picture with more alert eyeballs eyeballing the world.

Goal 1 Down!

We have made it past the 32 week mark! This has been our first goal to reach and it feels so good to have made it. The next goal Jared and I have made for ourselves is to keep Walden cooking past Jared's Master's recital on April 10, that will put us at 34.5 weeks and will make life just a bit more sane.

Look Ma! No more IV!

I was discharged from the hospital on March 9 and have been cleared for minimal activity. I'm working from my office in the mornings and from bed in the afternoons. I'm not allowed to do any housework or 'heavy' lifting (over 10lbs). I've also limited my own walking as I've found that I can feel Walden pushing down way too quickly and tend to get contractions from very minimal activity.

The housework ban is a mixed blessing as I get to rest guilt-free, but then I'm stuck on the couch thinking about the sink of dishes, grimy bathroom, and un-vacuumed floors. With Jared in the last quarter of his Master's program, it's all he can do to keep up with schoolwork, practice, and Clif. The housework will just have to wait. This too shall pass.

I am loving this rare chance to have daily smoothies.

Working from home in the afternoons has made lunchtime a bit more flexible.

Yum. My fruity pregnancy craving is happy.

By far the hardest thing to deal with is the lifting restrictions. With Clif pushing 30lbs, he's well over my limit. And though I'm so thankful to be feeling quite well, it does make it difficult to remember that all is not actually well and to ask for help when needed. We've been spending a lot of time playing on the floor, reading, and doing puzzles. We've also had a definite uptick in the amount of Sesame Street and Muppets viewed, but I suppose that's not the end of the world. The most frustrating thing is that I'm completely unable to take Clif on outings on my own. Although he generally does well climbing in and out of his carseat and will sometimes hold my hand as we're walking, he is only 18-months-old and I'm completely unable to contain him if he decides he wants to go in another direction. Thus park visits are out, we nearly had to miss the circus (but we didn't! hooray!), I can't take him to Sabbath School. Luckily we had just made the switch to a toddler bed a few days before my last bleed, so I'm occasionally able to do the whole bedtime routine, since there's no lifting absolutely necessary (as long as he's being relatively cooperative).

 This little dude cracks me up. He's making a ducky face with Ernie's ducky.

And that's that. We could be meeting Walden any day, but hope that he bakes for at least two more weeks. Life's in a bit of limbo at the moment. I'm no longer contained to a bed (hooray!) but I'm definitely not 100%. My next checkup is on Monday along with another ultrasound. We should be able to get a good estimate on Wally's current size (I'm guessing 4.5lbs) as well as check again to see if this stubborn placenta might have budged. Not putting a whole lot of hope on that, but wouldn't it be nice?!

Uterine Updates

As many of you have seen from Facebook and Instagram, I am currently hanging out in Labor and Delivery. Fun times.

For those of you who do not enjoy hearing the nitty-gritty of things concerning birth and such, just a warning.

The post below will contain such things.

At our twenty week ultrasound we found out that we had a low-lying placenta. Which was later re-identified as being a marginal placenta previa. Which has since been re-re-identified as a complete placenta previa. As I assume that most of you are unfamiliar with the term, let me give you a brief explanation. The placenta is supposed to be attached towards the top of the uterus. A previa has attached very low, in our case, completely covering the cervix. This causes several problems. First of all, baby's escape hatch is blocked. Not a good thing. Secondly, baby is constantly resting on, bouncing on, and pinching the placenta. Also not good. The placenta is a very blood-rich organ and is baby's life-support while they're still inside, so it's generally a good idea to keep it in good health. Previa commonly causes bleeding, anywhere from spotting to straight up hemorrhaging. As the baby gets bigger, the risk goes up. Heavier weight on the placenta, unhappier the placenta gets. Once the risk is judged too great, a c-section done. Most previa babies are premature.

I had our first episode of spotting at 27 weeks. (For those of you less well versed in this world, full-term is 38-42 weeks, 40 weeks being standard.) It was very minor. I got off my feet for the night and took the next day relatively easy. I started again at 29 weeks. A bit more, still not severe, but followed by 3 days of clots. Not good. Thus the decision to send me to the hospital in order to get a round of steroids in me that will help to develop Walden's lungs just a little faster. Things seem to have calmed down now, but the plan is to keep me in the hospital until Sunday afternoon. At that point I'll head home and take things easy - no lifting, no housework, etc. We will be seeing more bleeding and we will be seeing more of the hospital. No one can say when that might be. Hopefully we'll be able to keep Walden in until closer to 36 weeks, but he's already a big guy. The goal is to get past 32 and then as far past as possible. We will most likely be looking at a NICU stay, but do not expect to see any severe complications. Walden will just need some more time of special care in order to mature enough on all fronts to come home.

This was all a pretty hard pill to swallow when it all really became real this week. We had been hoping that the placenta would migrate up, that we wouldn't have issues with bleeding, that things would be normal. It was a jolt to realize that we need to change our expectations. There were tears and fears, still are here and there, but overall we've really gotten to a good place. We have an amazing support system (all of you!!!) filled with people who actually mean it when they ask how they can help. Thank you. We truly are pretty good at the moment, but we may be calling on a few of you in the coming weeks, so ready the casseroles and prepare for some babysitting.

The most frustrating thing about all of this is knowing that we won't be able to have Walden to ourselves until he's weeks or maybe even months old. Who doesn't love that squishable newborn phase when they're just a little mewing lump? Even though the NICU nurses are amazing and we are so beyond thankful for them and their ilk, it's hard knowing that it's going to be someone other than yourself there to help your kiddo in the middle of the night.

The scariest thing about this is the flashbacks. We're going to have a baby who's covered in wires and tubes and connected to beeping machines. We're going to walk in to the hospital with Walden and leave without him. We've done this before. Of course we realize that these are very different circumstances, but it doesn't change the fear. No one expected Ryann to die that night. We know first hand how quickly things can go from fine to dire. And this time it won't be just our kiddo in the hospital, it will be me too. This is probably one of the hardest things for Jared. He has to sit by my side while across the curtain the doctors are slicing into me, hoping to avoid a hemorrhage, and pulling out our preterm babe. We know in our minds that every should/will be fine. But it's scary.

So in conclusion - thank you, prayers and good thoughts appreciated, and we are so excited/scared/on pins and needles to be meeting our new son.

Links I've Enjoyed that You May Too

These shadow sculptures are pretty amazing.

It's good to remember that most of us are doing better than we think.

I thoroughly enjoyed these ballet webisodes.

Breathtaking.

Yes. This. Thank you.

Loved this genius idea.

Sometimes it's the little things that touch the deepest need.

Treat Yo' Self!

It's that time of year to start placing your Valentines orders for french macarons! Please have all orders in by February 11 in order for pick-up or delivery in the Lincoln area on February 14. Most flavors and variety boxes available upon request.

dozen - $20
half dozen - $12

Discoveries

Last night during a fun father-son bath time, Clif discovered with great delight that Daddy also has a 'pee-pee'. He's now a bit confused about Mommy.

No photo to illustrate.

Facts about Clifton - nine days shy of 16 months

Clif is a talker. I haven’t counted up the words he uses, but I have no doubt it’s well over 40 by this point. * We are currently going through a phase of constant demands for ‘cookie’, ‘puppy’, and ‘bah-uhl’ [cookies (or cookie monster, used interchangeably and just as often), pacis, and bottles. Luckily these demands are often accompanied by frenetic lispy ‘peas!’ (please). * Clif is constantly falling. Just like Ryann, this is due to his non-stop rocketing around at top speed rather than a lack of coordination. Of course, an onlooker would probably never know this. * Every morning starts with Clif being brought into bed, wild snuggles, and requests for Cookie (the monster variety). He knows we can play the Muppets and Sesame Street on our phones. He also knows where we stash our laptops, how to pull them out, and how to open them up. Nothing is safe in his never-ending quest for more Muppets Family Christmas. * Our favorite new game is Cuddle Cuddle. As soon as I say ‘cuddle cuddle’ I’m treated to his little head snuggled into my shoulder. Sometimes he’s the one to declare a ‘cud cud cud!’. * Jared has passed on his love to dance. Clif notices the moment any background music goes silent, declaring a loud ‘uh oh!’, and will greet its return with shimmying hips and waving arms. A delicious dinner is also greeted in the same manner. And guests. And Skype. And most of all the Rolling Stones (this was discovered on accident, when a random track sent Clif shimmying in his carseat and bawling when it was changed. same reaction every time since). * Clif loves his cousin Mei to bits. He often wakes up with his first question being ‘Mei-mei?’ as he peers around for her. * One mention of going outside sends Clif running for the doors asking ‘side? side?’. He would spend his life outdoors if given the chance. * At sixteen months, he is easily wearing size 2T. He also seems to be hitting another growth spurt, as evidenced by his suddenly shorter pants and his ravenous appetite. * On the topic of appetite, for his afternoon snack yesterday he had two and a half peanut butter sandwiches. For dinner he pounded half a Totinos pizza, half a clementine, several (adult) handfuls of grapes, some pineapple juice, and his bedtime bottle. * He is crazy for balls. We play in the ball aisle at Target every time we go. He points out the balls on Christmas trees. He will play ball with Jared for a ridiculously long time (their version of ball involves Clif waiting for a ball to bounce down the stairs, into his face, and then running it to Jared for him to throw again. we are blessed with very noise insensitive neighbors). * While Clif seemed to be clear on the baby being in Mommy’s belly for a while, it has now morphed into the baby being anyone’s skin. This week the baby has been identified as Dadd’s back, Clif’s belly, and Mommy’s shoulder. But when asked if he wanted to kiss the baby, Clif will usually drop what he’s doing and run full speed into my belly with arms open wide. I’ll take it.

Photo courtesy of Chris Johnson

The Results Are In . . .

Today was our big mid-pregnancy ultrasound and we were on pins and needles to find out just who has  been rubbing elbows with my innards. However, as much as I've been looking forward to meeting this little one, a large part of me has been pretty nervous about today. Clif's pregnancy was surprisingly worry-free, even though it came on the heels of the trauma surrounding Ryann. I'm not sure why, perhaps due to the simple fact that this little one was not planned for, but I've been fighting recurring bad feelings about this little one. Every time I go in for a checkup, I strain to hear the heartbeat, half thinking it won't be there. I regularly have bad dreams that usually feature Clif in some horrible way. Today I was bracing myself for the ultrasound tech to uncover a heart defect, misshapen spine, or other abnormality. But instead she found a perfectly calm, perfectly formed little man in there.

Walden Elder Hiscock will be joining the family early to mid-May.

Unlike both Ryann and Clifton, who were literally ricocheting around their new digs from our very first peeks around 8 weeks, little Walden has been a calm passenger. At 8 weeks he waved a leg. By this point, the sibs were already treating me as a punching bag and had been for weeks. Walden graces me with a few kicks a day. In Ryann's big ultrasound we chased her around for nearly an hour in order to catch measurements between contortions. Clifton buried his head and followed the probe with his rump the entire visit. We were in and out within 20 minutes with Walden. He wiggled around placidly and only showed a bit of displeasure at having his feet tickled.

Which brings us to his name. Walden literally means 'wooded valley' and is of course made most famous by Thoreau's On Walden Pond. It brings to mind peace and strength, traits we hope little Wally will possess in spades.

The middle name of Elder follows the pattern of Clifton's name, Clifton Sumner. Sumner was a surname on Jared's side of the family a few generations back, as well as being his father's middle name. My father was the only son born in his family and he himself had two girls. Both my sister and I planned on retaining Elder in some form in our married names, however my sis married a Canadian and due to the complications of the paperwork thrown at them, decided to simply take the traditional married name (we love you David!). As a result, I am the last Elder on our branch of the tree. Passing on our surname as a middle name sends it on for at least one more generation.

So there you have it. A calm, healthy little boy. In the last few years our lives have been upended in so many ways, one of which was going from being parents to a girl to now planning for a home full of boys. Some day we hope to again welcome a little girl into our home, but right now we're absolutely delighted to be anticipating Walden's soon arrival.

Links that Made Me Pause

Jared and Clif - these two make me happy.

Cats are mysterious and hilarious and weird.

Jared is vigilant about protecting his hearing, and considering my family history of hearing loss, I should make more of an effort to follow his lead.

"At present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again." - C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed. One very apt quote from a wonderful post.

This short test showed me to be an unsurprising 96% left-brained. What about you?

Oh my word. I cannot even handle the cuteness.

Happy Birthday

Ryann, today you would have been four years old.

Today we celebrate and feel grateful to have you as part of our family. Wish you were here with us. I cannot even begin to express how much. We love you to bits.

Happy birthday, my girlie.

Hello Again

I've been a bit MIA on here recently. I think after going through our second May 29 I was feeling a bit wrung out. We were heading into summer with a wiggly little boy and I didn't want to use this space that never fails to make me root around inside my head and study myself. Instead I spent my free time hooting at monkeys and roasting hotdogs with friends and biking through the sticky air with my little family. The summer was lovely and full and now we're undeniably in fall and Ryann's birthday is staring me down.

Four years old in five short days.

Last year was hard and foreign. We couldn't conjure the girl she would be at three. But at four I somehow have no trouble seeing a girl with limbs too long and elbows too sharp. In the past few months, all of her friends have shot up by inches and are suddenly kids and have no hint of baby left. For a while it was easy to imagine that they hadn't changed that much. They hadn't left her behind. Until we realized that the baby brother of one was passing the age that Ryann was at the end. The shock to see him next to his sister was jarring. It hurt. There's no more pretending or imagining. Ryann shouldn't be a baby anymore. And this year I can imagine her dragging Clif around the house, reading him books, helping me in the kitchen, sleeping through the night. She would be twice as tall as her brother, who at not quite fourteen months has already far surpassed her own actual size. She wouldn't fit in my arms easily anymore, although she would still end up there frequently. Bent and jumbled in order to fit. I don't know why I have no trouble seeing her this year, her first as a kid, and couldn't at year three, her last as a baby.

Part of what has driven me back here was finding myself reading to Clif through ragged cry-breathing after a particularly bad temper-cry on his part. I found myself panicking and thinking of his insides twisting and dying and us getting to the ER too late and repeating the cycle again and again and again until my insides have twisted and died and there are no more babies left to lose. I kept reassuring myself as I held him while he screamed that he felt strong and his legs were still working and he wasn't hot or cold and he hadn't thrown up. He seemed normal and healthy and mad, which is really something so strong to hang on to, as any parent of any sick kiddo knows. But my scare over it all made me realize that in being absent from here during our lovely, wonderful summer, I've been repeatedly stuffing and hiding all the little hints of trouble and worry and longing that have popped up. It's not healthy, it doesn't feel good when they finally start oozing out, and it's not necessary.

So this is all to say that I'm back. Maybe not regularly, but surely more often than once every few months. It's looking like this will be a full and crazy year(s) we're headed into - Jared's graduating with his Masters in May, applying to DMA programs (fingers crossed he stays here in NE, we don't want to become a commuting family!), we're expecting a (surprise!) third baby in mid-May, Jared has his debut professional recital at our alma mater at the end of May, I will be spending the month of June hanging with the kids and my extended family while Jared is exiled to Austria (hardy har har), and the last long trudge through graduate school begins in the fall. Agh. Let's just focus on this week - date night tonight!

And of course some unrelated hilarious pictures of Clif making a run for it with his chosen pumpkin.

What the What?!

I was stumbling through the cobwebs of my blog today and realized that these pictures were just sitting in a draft post, never having seen the light of day. How could that be? What a little munchkin he was.

A Mark for Our Girl

Almost a month ago, we once again passed May 29. The day that Ryann died. I never know what to call it when I tell someone. The anniversary of her death? Her deathday? All of the options seem a bit too morbid. Maybe I should just call it for what it is - The Day of Soul-Crushing Sorrow and Remembrance.

‘Oh hey, so I won’t be at work next Wednesday because I’ll be taking it off for The Day of Soul-Crushing Sorrow and Remembrance.’

Maybe a bit cumbersome. I’ll probably continue on with the shorter, morbid-ish versions.

In the two years since The Event we have made a point to spend what could be a terrible, horrible, no-good day spent wallowing instead doing things that help us remember and honor Ryann and our family. Last year we took some flowers by her grave, explored the Capitol, ate at Maggie’s Wraps, and dropped by the Lincoln Children’s Zoo. This year we had something special planned.

We started off the day by heading over to our local florist. As usual, we perused their large case in the back and hand chose several flowers that seemed fitting for the occasion. Although I'm generally not a fan of mums or daisies, I always seem to find myself choosing them for Ryann. There's just something about them that seems youthful and innocent.

We also got a matching bouquet for our table at home. I loved seeing them throughout the week and having that small connection to Ryann.

After our jaunt to the cemetery, we popped by the Capitol for a quick peek. Not only do we both love the Capitol simply for it's echoing hallways and plentiful mosaics, but it is also the site of one of our few memories of Ryann in Lincoln. It was Jared's first time at the Capitol and we spent a large chunk of it up in the topmost room. Ryann ran and squealed, testing the echoes in the room. She eventually stole Jared's empty coffee cup and proceeded to spend the rest of the time horrifying onlookers by pretending to drink out of her cup, which they had no way of knowing was empty.

The dome in the rotunda.

Big sister/Little brother

We met up with Clif's sitter at the Capitol and she took him home for a few hours while we headed to our next appointment. An appointment that we had been planning and looking forward to for just a bit less than two years.

Shortly after Ryann died I knew that I wanted to get a tattoo. I wanted to carry a outward mark, not only to match the soul-scar that I will always carry, but also as a way of carrying her forward into the future. Something she can no longer do herself.

It was a natural choice for me to decide on getting her tattoo behind my right ear. It's where she wore her sweet birthmark that I always knew was so uniquely her. I never forget which ear it was behind now, even though I did when she was alive. I knew it was behind one of them, but could never quite keep it straight. I would have to check each one in order to spot it. But now it's etched into my memory as the last kiss I gave my girl. She was laying on the huge, adult-sized hospital bed. We were getting ready to leave and I was doing my best to memorize every detail. I ran my fingers through her wispy hair - no longer baby hair, but not quite little girl hair yet - I cupped her knobbly, perpetually scratched knees in my hand, saw that she still had dirt under her fingernails from playing outside. She was only in a diaper, as long as you don't count the tube they had snaked down her throat and the iv in her arm. Her head was to my left, her feet to my right, the crunchy hospital bed paper under her. And I turned her head to the left, kissed that precious mark on the right side of her head and walked out of that hospital, leaving my daughter behind.

That mark has been seared into my brain. She no longer wears it, so I will now wear it in her stead. And when people ask about it, I'll be able to tell them about the little girl it belongs to. When my other children ask about it, I'll be able to tell them about their beloved big sister.

Two years after I last kissed my daughter, I finally carry her mark forward.

Jared's arm in progress.

The stencil on the left and the finished piece on the right.

My mark for my girl

There are several specific aspects of the designs which make them particularly special and meaningful to us. I will do my best to outline them below.

• A bird - we always compared Ryann to a bird. Petite, quick, nimble. Forever bright and cheery. Also a nod to "His eye is on the sparrow".
• Birch tree - they appear delicate and vulnerable, but they are strong and hardy. They bend and whip in storms, but do not break. The survive the storms and the snows. And they do all of this with grace and beauty. The foliage, or lack thereof, on the tree is to portray fall, when Ryann was born. Including a tree in the design is also a nod to the Tree of Life.
• Color - At our first grief support group we went around the circle and shared the color that most personified our child. There were a smattering of baby blues, yellows, and pinks. Both Jared and I didn't hesitate in saying "Red". Red is bold and daring. Passionate, decisive, and beautiful. We opted for a rusty red once again, a connection to fall.
• Placement - I've already gone over mine. Jared's being on his arm is for several reasons. He's constantly wearing her on his sleeve. Arms tend to be a symbol of what you do, accomplish, or your actions in life, and Jared's will always be influenced by Ryann.

Links to Start Your Week

It finally feels like Spring is really here and Clif seems to have caught the bug to be off and exploring on his own. We're looking forward to a summer filled with dirt and grass and grime! In the meantime, here are some links to start your week off.



I hope that when Clif gets to the stage of playing with his food that it looks like this!

Oh my word. I want to go to there (each and every one).

I'm going to be trying these this weekend.

I have a weakness for Bill Murray and I'm loving this.

And Seinfeld.

I've always wanted to do something like this with my cats. They live such mysterious lives.

I have a few pictures that I think I need to submit here.

The Shirt from The Shop

In the months immediately after Ryann died I would often pop into BabyGap over my lunch break just to pretend that I was still looking for pieces for Ryann. The poor sales girls were probably confused why I usually left in such a hurry, often in tears. I still can't resist making a pass through the girls section and finding a pair of jeans or a dress in the size that she would probably be wearing by now. It's always a shock.

One day, about a month after Ryann died, Jared came home with a little package. On his habitual visit to our local coffee shop he had noticed a neighboring shop that displayed knick knacks and toys for children. He went inside and met the sweetest shop owner who we have chatted with several times since. One of the few people who didn't bat an eye the first time we told her about Ryann. Who shared her own story of her own heartache. Who waves and chats to Clif whenever we see her, and shares a smile over his head with each of us knowing that the other fully understands just how longed for this wee one was.

That first day in the shop Jared bought a little shirt with a little tie. Eventually we tucked it away in a box. For someday.

Birth - First Edition

I’ve been wanting to write out my birth stories for a long time now, but have kept putting it off. Some memories of them are starting to fade, so I have decided to finally dive in.

Before we begin, let me say that if birth stories aren’t your jive, you may want to skip over these posts. Although I won’t be sharing every single detail, I will probably be sharing more than you would like to hear. If, however, you’re like me and birth stories are your crack – Proceed!

Ryann’s Reluctant Exodus from My Womb

Let me first say that my pregnancy with Ryann was wonderful. I felt physically amazing and more sure and confident of my body than ever before in my life. I rocked it. I also just worked part-time, which may have been part of that.

I stayed quite active throughout my pregnancy – ran regularly until four months at which point the bouncing belly was just too much for me, took a water aerobics class several times a week until I delivered, walked to and from work at least twice a day. Jared and I were stupidly secure in the belief that my labor would clock in at 8 hours or less. What dear foolish people we were.

Although we were technically okay with needing to do whatever needed to be done in the moment in order to get that little girl out and into our arms, our ideal method was a completely natural birth. No IV, no epidural, no drugs. While I really don’t try not to judge those who go into labor with the immediate intention of seeking out interventions, I truly believe that going all natural is usually best for both mom and babe. Interventions too quickly lead down the road to more interventions which lead down the road to more interventions which lead down the road . . .

I started having regular, time-able contractions the evening of October 28. Every seven minutes until around seven in the morning. My sister and Mom both lived down in New Mexico at this time (Jared and I were up in Washington state) and they were planning on trying to make it for the birth, but their scheduled arrival wasn’t until November 10 since my due date was November 12. However, once these contractions started up I gave them a call and told them that they had better move up the date, Ryann was knocking down the gates (hahaha, that’s kind of gross).

38 weeks pregnant and expecting her any moment.

They moved their travel up by one week. The contractions continued. They started up every evening at seven and petered away at around seven in the morning. Every day for twelve hours, every seven minutes. We had some legitimate concern that Ryann was going to end up a Halloween baby, which is our least favorite holiday by quite a margin. Luckily we kept contracting right on by that.

Mom and Kristin pulled into town the evening of November 3 and no baby had yet appeared. We hung out with my giant contracting belly for a few hours before bed and went to sleep.

Ryann must have been waiting for her pit crew to arrive, because at 1am on November 4 I woke up to some very different contractions. These were coming every four minutes and were actually mildly uncomfortable whereas the ones I had been having for a week (A WEEK) were completely painless, they simply made my stomach as hard as a rock.

I got out of bed, walked around our teeny apartment for a bit, and then decided to go ahead and wake Jared. He does not wake up gently. No matter how quietly or slowly I try to wake him up it ALWAYS end by him snort-jump-shouting awake. You can imagine how this went.

Jared got out of bed, jumped in and out of the tub (we had no shower in our little place), and gathered our hospital bags by the door. We were still thinking that we would have Ryann in our arms well before noon. Oh you poor souls.

The contractions were definitely getting worse, but I was still able to talk through them easily. So we did what any sane couple would do at this point. We sat on the couch and watched Iron Chef episodes. Battle Tuna anyone?

Finally, at about 4am, we decided to head into the hospital. Although I could still talk through the contraction, they were getting quite painful and we were still expecting a quick labor. Once we got to the hospital, they checked me and we found out we were at a measly ‘1, maybe 2 centimeters’. Uh oh.

At this point, we decided to go ahead and go back home. And here is where we truly began our marathon. Back at home the contractions really started to amp up. I tried laying in the tub, on the bed, on my side, on my back, over the couch, walking around. I threw up several times, and so Jared kept trying to feed me bites of mandarin orange and sips of water. All of which I proceeded to spew right back out.

My Mom and sister headed over to our place around 8am. There wasn’t really a whole lot they could do, but I do remember that Kristin offered to clean our flour-doused kitchen cart, something I had been meaning to get to for ages. I’ve gotta say, this is one of my favorite memories from during my labor. As un-clean-freaky as I am, there are certain things that I am a real stickler about, and my kitchen is one of them. Just knowing that cart was getting a thorough cleaning was such a huge upper for me at that point.

In labor with the blessed
kitchen cart in the background.

We had a regularly scheduled OB appointment at 4pm, so we decided we would try to ride it out until then, all the while hoping that we would instead already have had the baby by that point. We didn’t. Just before 4, we loaded up into our cars (Mom and Kristin followed us) and trekked over to our OB’s office, which was luckily right next to the hospital. This is where I got to terrify all of the happy pregnant women in the waiting room, while I moaned and thrashed and groaned. Those poor, poor ladies.

Once they took us back to the exam room and checked me, we found out that those ten hours had progressed us all the way to a 3! I don’t think I’ve ever been so disappointed and discouraged. At this point our OB recommended that we go ahead and check into the hospital so that I could get an IV, since I was fairly dehydrated by now and it was probably contributing to my slow progress. He also strongly recommended an epidural. I was disappointed, but by this point, I was ready to go for it. Jared did his previously agreed upon duty in trying to get me to wait for a bit longer, but I was ready for some help and gave the team the go ahead to place the epidural as soon as the anesthesiologist was ready.

There isn’t much more terrifying than being told of all the dangers and possible complications of getting an epidural and then being told that you need to hold perfectly still or they might hit your spinal column right in the middle of body-wrenching contractions. It is impossible to hold still. I still don’t know exactly how they got it in, but they did. And sweet, blessed numbness swept over me.

Once the epidural was in, I was able to talk again, to see faces and chat and even chuckle a bit. My blood pressure also dropped (it tends to be quite low to begin with), an oxygen mask was brought out, and everyone was hawkeyeing Ryann’s monitor. Luckily, that’s as far as ‘complications’ from the epidural went for me. I continued to progress, my BP didn’t continue to drop, and Ryann didn’t suffer and ill-effects. I was grudgingly okay with the epidural.

For about 20 minutes I was myself again. And then everything started coming back. I was panicky from dread of those terrible contractions and kept asking the nurses if the epidural was supposed to wear off like it seemed to be doing. They had me hitting the dose button but I couldn’t feel any benefit from it and the contractions quickly came back full force. After the epidural had been in for about an hour and I had been re-moaning for about 40 minutes, they checked me again and I was at a complete 10. Hallelujah! They also noticed that my epidural cord was kinked behind my back, as soon as they straightened it out, my legs were dead again. Thanks guys.

I was prepared for pushing to be exhausting and long. They say that the pushing portion lasts an average of 20 minutes with it frequently stretching well over an hour. Ryann popped out in three contractions. Our OB said that we were some of the most pleasant laborers that he had ever had and that he had never before delivered a baby to the tune of Bob Dylan.

We had a slight scare when just her head was out and our OB said to stop pushing. The umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around her neck twice. He had to work it loose and cut her cord in order for her to actually come out. It wasn’t until I was pregnant with Clif and talking with my midwife that I realized just how lucky we were. If her cord had been wrapped with just a bit less slack, she very well could have hung herself on her way out and there’s no way we would have known what was happening until it was too late.

She was very blue and calm. She just whimpered, didn’t cry. It took a very long time for her to pink up, the whole while she was just looking around. I remember my Mom asking the nurses and doctor over and over if she was okay because she was just so blue. Eventually she did pink up, but it wasn’t until the next day or so that she seemed truly newborn-pink.

Prodromal labor began on October 28. Active labor began at 1am on November 4. Ryann was born 8 days early at 8:41pm on November 4, 2009. She was 6lb 11oz and 19 inches long. 

And our life began.

Look at that glorious hair!

And just for fun - Thai feasts have become somewhat
of a tradition surrounding the births of our children.