(That really should probably be called a saga since it’s
looooong.. This is what happens when I don't blog enough :)
We welcomed our latest addition to the family a little over one week ago, and
as I have been thinking about and processing how that happened, I’ve been
repeatedly convicted by the importance of writing it down. I want to remember
the worry, fear, joy, and thankfulness that tucked themselves into my heart
while we waited for and welcomed him.
My pregnancy with Ari overall was uneventful. That’s the way
we like it. My main concerns were the facts that 1) my belly was HUGE and made
it nearly impossible to move around like a normal human being, and 2) I started
to get very puffy during the third trimester. Like really puffy. All over. My
doctor’s main concern was my ever-fluctuating blood pressure – not something
I’d ever experienced before. Close behind were concerns about me actually being
at the hospital when this baby was born, given our experience with Asher, and
some mysterious late-third-trimester weight loss (which obviously really
affected Ari’s weight :).
This pregnancy was by far my most ‘symptomatic,’ with all
the stuff I knew people experienced but hadn’t dealt with myself. I was very
ready to stop dealing with those things several weeks before my due date, and would
comfort myself with the knowledge that he was big and I was having tons of
contractions, so he would probably be early. It was much more trying than my
last two pregnancies and I often had to catch myself and remember how much
there was to be thankful for rather than focusing on all the things there were
to complain about.
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| Thinking this might be our last belly photo - nope! |
The First False Alarm
Roughly two weeks before my due date, on a Friday, I had
been having contractions for two days and noticed that they were picking up and
were alarmingly regular. Knowing how quickly things had moved with Asher, and
with my doctor’s concerns about that lingering in the back of my mind, we
decided to go ahead to the hospital just to see what might be happening. I
continued having contractions, but they didn’t seem to be amounting to much of
anything.
The woman that attended us was such a gift. She was
incredibly personable and caring, and decided while we were there that she
would just go ahead and check to make sure baby was happy and my fluid levels
were good. That meant a little ultrasound. She pressed the wand to my belly,
let out a little gasp, and immediately pulled it away. She looked right at me
and said, ‘This baby is head down, right?’ I told her I thought so, but it
quickly became clear that he was breech.
She spent a good deal of time giving us explanations of
various scenarios that could be our reality given this news, even going so far
as to find out if there were any doctors at the hospital that would deliver a
breech baby as opposed to going straight to a c-section. We ended our time that
evening talking about things I could do to try to get him to turn and
instructions to call the office first thing Monday morning to schedule another
ultrasound to see if he was still breech, and then perhaps attempt a version to
turn him from the outside.
As we left and drove home, I sorted through a confusing mix
of emotions. I was upset that my doctor hadn’t caught that he was breech sooner
given that I could go into labor at any time, and I could tell he had been in
the same position for a while. I was afraid of the prospect of having a
c-section, especially given that nothing was really ‘wrong’ with either of us,
he was just facing the wrong direction. But I was also beyond thankful that I
had had enough contractions to prompt us to go in, and that the doctor had
decided to do an ultrasound to measure fluids, only to discover a breech baby.
On top of that, despite feeling a little silly for having a ‘false alarm’ (my
first ever!), I was so, so thankful that my contractions had died down to give
us a little more time to see how things would turn out.
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| The boys loved 'helping' me with this position :) |
A Spinning Baby
I spent the weekend fretting about all kinds of things..
Trying to imagine what a c-section was like and refocus my mental preparations
to a healthy delivery regardless of how it came about, rather than just
focusing on labor.. Worrying that since he was head up the many bumps and
knocks from the outside might have done more damage somehow than if he had been
head down all along.. Generally being frustrated and discontent with the whole
situation.
I also spent the weekend trying all kinds of things to get
him to turn over! From peppermint oil to various upside-down contortions, from
what I could tell nothing had changed. Then, I did one smooth move (ha!)
suggested by my cousin (thanks Sarah!) that had worked for her third baby, and
I noticed a change! He certainly was not head down, but his head had moved
down, which was progress.
Finally Monday came and we got an appointment for that
afternoon. I wasn’t overly hopeful, but I was hopeful, if that makes sense. I
really wanted him to have turned, but I was so afraid of getting carried away
with thinking he had turned, only to be told again that he was breech. The
ultrasound technician we had is an absolute peach (you will notice a theme
through all of this, that almost every person we interacted with was incredibly
caring, thoughtful, and kind. The Lord knows I am fragile and need people to be
nice to me or I cry), and she was surprised to discover that he was no longer
breech, but was transverse. She was not happy about that because it means an
automatic c-section, but I was hopeful that if he were transverse it would make
a version easier.
We left the ultrasound room to wait to see a doctor to
discuss a plan of action. This doctor (mine was sick that day) decided to just
check on things once more while we were there, and at some point in the move
from the ultrasound room to the exam room baby had turned all the way and was
head down! Obviously, that was surprising and exciting, but I found myself
again hesitating to be hopeful. I wasn’t in labor yet, and somehow he had room to move around in there, so there was no point
in getting my hopes up that he would stay that way.
Waiting, Waiting, and
Another False Alarm
I had another scheduled appointment the next day with my
doctor, and she felt similarly. Given that he’d been in so many positions in
such a short time, there was no way to be certain that he’d be head down
whenever I went in to labor. She felt the best plan of action was to wait until
I was 39 weeks, and then induce at a point when we knew he was head down. That
would probably lessen my chances for a natural birth, but that was not a major
issue for me, just a preference.
So we waited. And I had a million contractions. I’m pretty
sure I had enough contractions for at least three babies while I was waiting
for our one baby to arrive. The next Saturday, the day officially marking me at
39 weeks, I again was having contractions regularly. By dinnertime I decided we
should go in again to be on the safe side as they were actually picking up in
intensity. They checked me right in and took me to a room where we spent an
hour waiting to see if these
contractions were being productive. We also got confirmation that he was still
head down (phew!) during that time (from a doctor who was ecstatic to learn we
had lived in St Andrews and wanted to know all about the golf courses). This
period was really confusing for me. Contractions were there, regular, and
getting stronger, and yet nothing was happening. With the other two, once
things were going, they were going! They ultimately decided to send us home,
with all of us knowing that we might be back that night. I was certain we would be as they were already
noticeably stronger on the drive home.
And then we went to bed. And I slept. And I woke up in the
morning and nothing was happening and I was still pregnant and puffy. Every
pregnancy is different! I will never believe anything my body tells me ever
again! :) Anyway.
Surprise! You’re
having a baby! Right now.
I had an appointment the following Wednesday, the 27th,
in the afternoon with a different doctor. Interestingly (and providentially),
she was the doctor I had originally wanted to see throughout my pregnancy, but
for several reasons it didn’t work out. My doctor was out of the office the
whole Thanksgiving week, so she was it! On this particular day, my blood
pressure was high. Not ‘let’s freak out right this minute’ high, but high.
Obviously, that is a reason for concern. She was afraid that if I continued
being pregnant it would continue to rise, given that it had been high quite a
few times, and I’d end up in a much worse situation. That, combined with the
baby flip-flopping issue, a history of quick labors, and his ample size led her
to suggest that I be induced that day.. as in, literally walk over to L&D
from her office and have a baby. She left to let us discuss what we wanted to do,
and we basically looked at each other and said, ‘Let’s do it.’ We both felt the
reasons were good, and I had a sneaking suspicion I was really going into labor
anyway based on the contractions I was having that day. Fortunately, with all
the action we had seen, I had started bringing my hospital bag to every
appointment ‘just in case.’
So, off we went! We got settled into our room and had lots
of lessons in what is normal for an American birth! Again, the nurse that was
working with us was incredibly helpful, took our birth plan hopes seriously,
and was very straightforward in answering our questions and explaining what she
was doing. The doctor came in after about 2 hours to see how things were going
and to decide what our next step was. I really wanted to avoid Pitocin and give
my body a chance to show us if it was ready to go, so I asked if we could just
start with breaking my water and see how things progress. They were happy to
oblige, and she found that I had progressed from 1cm to 4 just in the time
since I had left her office. (Also during that time we had kept our tradition
of watching Elf during labor.. and yes, I know my other two children were born
in the summer, but it’s such a great movie!) That made us all happy, but I
can’t explain the relief and peace I felt when she said that. I was nervous
after we left her office that we had made a choice that could lead us down a
path we were hoping to avoid, and that progress was wonderful encouragement
that I was ready and baby was ready, so hopefully little intervention would be
needed.
So, after a quick check to make sure he was still head down,
my water was broken and off we went! This was my first time essentially
experiencing labor start to finish at the hospital. It was harder in some ways
because there were fewer distractions, but I didn’t miss the long drive to the
hospital while in labor one bit!
A new nurse took over and I am so thankful she was with us
through the whole thing. She was really supportive of my desire to have a
natural birth, and also really honest about the likelihood that induction would
make that less possible. I have an entirely new appreciation for L&D nurses
after watching these incredible women work with and for us. I just happened to
read this yesterday, and though of course our labor experience was not the same, it sounds
like our nurse experience certainly was.
Anyway! So, basically I sat on a labor ball watching River
Monsters (two other new experiences! I’m sure you can guess who chose our
entertainment..) until things were getting rough and decided I wanted to get in
the shower for some relief. As seems to be the case with me, almost as soon as
I was in the water I started feeling tiny urges to push. I had direct
instructions to cause a ruckus as soon as that happened so the doctor had time
to get the hospital before the baby arrived, though the nurse assured us she
had just caught a baby earlier that week so she would be ok if things didn’t go
as planned :).
I have no concept of time from here on out, as I was in my
‘this really hurts’ zone (so was Ian.. he tells me I almost ripped his bicep
off, ha!), but things moved really quickly. The doctor made it and our little
team welcomed Ari Louis Church into this dark and bright world. I quickly made
Ian promise to never let me do that again (double ha!) and marveled that we had
another healthy boy who had thrown us for a loop right at the end, but
everything worked out just fine. He was born at 11:42pm and weighed 9lbs, 1oz.
Getting a 9lb baby out is a lot more work than the other two were :). He was
totally perfect, with gigantic cheeks, and we were totally smitten.
I continued to marvel at our nurse’s care for us as she
helped get us all ready to move to our recovery room (our private recovery room! Where Ian stayed with me the whole time!). When I thanked her for
letting me hold her hand, knowing that my grip is rather deadly during labor,
she looked me right in the eye and said she would have done anything to help me
at that point. Amazing.
So there we were. The parents of three boys – one of us in
particular enjoying American luxuries like ice packs and Tucks pads (which I
will be implementing for any future babies regardless of where they are born!)
– both marveling at our little bundle of sweetness. I found myself again and
again giving thanks that everything had worked out as it did, knowing full well
if my doctor had been around or if my blood pressure had been any higher or if
my baby had not turned, things could have been entirely different.
Since his birth, Ari (which, I should note, is pronounced
‘R-E’ not ‘airy’) has been nothing short of delightful. He is already letting
us sleep more than we could ever have imagined, hardly ever cries, and has
captured all of our hearts with no trouble. His brothers think he is ‘just so
cute!’ and love to hold him. He loves being warm and napping on Mama or Daddy,
and hates being naked for any reason. Especially when Mama’s hands are cold..
which is always.
Since his birth, I have continued to reduce in size, finding
my calves, ankles, feet, and hands again. Even my face is smaller :). It is a
wonderful thing to bend over without feeling like my eyes are going to pop out,
and be able to move around like a normal human being again. I am entirely
looking forward to being back to 100% to properly mother my three sweet boys,
and am entirely thankful for the wonderful help I’ve received from my family
(especially my dear mother) and our community here that is providing us with
meals and much support before and after Ari’s arrival. God is so good, and I am
so thankful.
Ari Louis: What’s in
a Name?
Since there’s really no reason to stop now :), I thought I’d
include a little explanation of his name. Once it was confirmed that he was a
boy, I decided to check out some boys’ names, as I wasn’t totally sold on the
one we were tossing around. I really didn’t want another ‘A’ name, and I wasn’t
overly concerned with how many letters it had either. I started out with Hebrew
names (because, why not?) in the ‘A’s, obviously. I got a few rows in and saw
‘Ari’ and immediately I knew that I was going to have to admit to Ian that I
liked this name. I was annoyed about it because it would make us an ‘A’ family
and I didn’t really want to do another three letter name since Asher’s isn’t,
but I also really felt like the Lord had put it under my nose for a reason. So
I confessed to Ian, who loved it, and that was pretty much that.
The name Ari means lion. This was another hang up for me.
Every time I thought about it, the image I got was a scary, roaring lion, which
I didn’t like. I often pondered how his name might have significance in his
life after we settled on Ari, but I felt strongly that I wanted my boy(s) to be
a steady, gentle force in this world, not a roaring, intimidating one. So I
thought, and I wrestled, and one day hit a realization that brought me peace.
The image of the lion laying with the lamb. The knowledge that the dark places
in this world (including our own hearts) will be made bright again and even
something as scary as a lion will become approachable and peaceful.
So, in his name, we hope that Ari will be courageous,
compassionate, a seeker of peace and source of comfort and protection for the
weak and hurting in this world. I know that is putting a lot of thought into a
simple name, but to me it is significant. I have already seen our older boys
manifesting aspects of their own names in their lives and with the people that
cross their paths, and can only assume the same will be true with Ari.
Louis carries significance in that St Louis is where he was
born. Aed and Asher’s middle names both relate directly to their being born in
St Andrews, and we wanted to continue with that, knowing that we will likely
not be in St Louis for very long. Not knowing what the future holds, we want
our boys to feel some sense of connectedness to their beginnings, especially if
we are nomads for longer than we expect.
You made it!
If you’ve made it to this point – kudos! You are a trooper
and I am thankful for your willingness to share in Ari’s story despite its
length. I make no promises about future blogging as life continues to grow in
responsibility, so every post from here on out may make your eyes bleed :). Sorry!
