We’re going on an adventure!

We leave for my hometown this week. The first time back since my husband and I moved away three years ago. I hadn’t imagined it would be for so long when we left. That’s just life I guess.

I’m nervous about how the traveling part will go down. About my husband who’s afraid to fly. How I’m going to get us all out of the house and on our way at 5am. And how our son will do in the car. (He hates the car seat and usually refuses to sleep in it). Praying all goes smoothly at the airport.

It will be my toddler’s first big trip. First time out of state and first plane ride. He’ll finally get to meet my brothers and sister, some of my best friends and hopefully some more family.

I’m excited to go back to the place that I’ll always think of as home with my little family. Looking forward to sharing the place where I grew up with my little guy.

All our reservations are made. I have a list of things to pack, places to go, and people to see. Just have to remember to relax and have a good time.

Here’s to a wonderful adventure!

Leaping over fears

There are so many things I used to be afraid to do. Paralyzed to even set out on my own, I felt like I needed someone to go with me or I wouldn’t go.

Simple everyday things like going to the grocery store or making a phone call to a stranger.

I would mentally rehearse how things might go. And if I couldn’t imagine it for a given situation, I either simply wouldn’t do it or I’d do anything I could to get out of it.

Now, even though I sometimes feel a twinge of anxiety, I focus instead on how it feels to have done it anyway. And sometimes, more an more, there’s no fear at all.

Even though my husband is afraid to fly, he’s coming with me to visit my family and our friends in Florida. It’s been nearly three years since we moved to Indiana and last saw most of them.

This will be the first time everyone, except my parents, will get to meet our son.

I’m just not allowed to talk to my husband about the trip at all or he gets super anxious and crabby.

So it’s all on me. All the planning and arrangements. All the preparations for a trip with a one year old.

This week I got on the phone and booked our flights to FL, reserved our rental car with car seat, and booked our hotel. I even picked up my little guy’s birth certificate on a whim after work one day.

I felt like a rock star. I’m nervous, but excited and proud of myself for doing it all on my own.

Spring has a nice ring

Spring Break is always too short, but this year it was especially sweet.  Super ready to welcome spring, we set up a couple suction cup birdfeeders on our apartment windows.  Then potted a couple sapling blue spruce trees for our window sill and future yard.  I even got to do a little spring cleaning while daddy played with the little guy, hurray.

Even though it was still a bit too cold to venture outside for long, it was fun watching for birds at our feeders, anticipating when they would find it.  So sweet to finally spy a lady cardinal perched on our feeder, eating and spreading our seeds.

Small buds have appeared on some of the trees on our street.  Very much looking forward to all the flowers that will soon be blooming all over town.

Last year my little guy was a newborn, who would fall asleep shortly after we set out on a walk, trying to show him the flowers.  So we’re excited to experience the season through him now that he’s bigger.  Ready to get outside to play and explore.

For now he’s been enjoying playing with the water from the kitchen sink with daddy and splashing in the tub.  He seems to love water as much as I did when I was little.

Always looking forward to the next break, we’re planning a summer trip to Florida to see my family and our friends for the first time since we moved to Indiana three years ago.  Nervous about flying with a little one, but super excited to get to visit and for him to meet everyone.

What was and what could be

Last week was my little guy’s first birthday.  I’ve been reflecting on his birth throughout this last year, but especially lately.  Noting what I want to do differently next time while it’s still fresh.

Some people might say that I should be happy because my baby and I came through alive and healthy, but to ignore the rest is to discredit a much larger picture.

My husband and I felt prepared for our son’s birth.  We took a class, read a lot, had a doula lined up and an OB with a low c-section rate. We printed our birth plan, and pre-registered at a baby-friendly hospital.

Then about a month before my due date, our doula fell through.  After searching for another, I decided I’d rather it just be my husband and I instead of adding someone I’d just met to our birth team.

I can’t help wondering what would have been different if I’d had a doula.  My plan had been to labor at home for as long as possible, but when I started throwing up we called the doctor and were instructed to go to the hospital.  My back labor was so intense I couldn’t tell how far apart my contractions were.

In the moment, all we’d known or planned before labor went out the window and we were at the mercy of the hospital.  I wish I’d had a doula to reassure us that what we were experiencing was normal, help us know when it was time to go to the hospital, and advocate for us once we got there.

I now believe I went to the hospital and got an epidural too soon.  I should have protested when they said they were giving me pitocin or when my OB broke my water.

I was on the hospital’s clock.  They had to keep things moving according to their ideas about how my labor should go, rather than letting my baby’s birth take it’s natural course.

After laboring for 21 hours and pushing for 2 my OB told me that my baby should already be here.  It didn’t seem like he would fit through my pelvis and a c-section was suggested.

During my very first prenatal appointment he had told me this was a possibility.  I kept pushing for a while, but made no further progress, so I consented to the c-section.

At the time I felt I was making an informed decision, but looking back I feel I was basically set up to accept a c-section.  That it was pointless to keep trying.  To give up, even though my baby and I were still doing fine.

I heard my son cry the moment he was born, but couldn’t see him.  Couldn’t hold him or nurse him.  My arms were strapped down and he was somewhere behind me, being wiped and measured.

Just after the surgery  I could feel everything.  My incision was on FIRE. It was by far the most pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.

I couldn’t remember the first time I held my son until he was about a month old.  My husband had to fill me in.  I couldn’t remember when I first tried to nurse him either.

That part is still fuzzy, but now I have hazy memories of briefly holding my new baby in the post op room. Having to hand him to a nurse because I was in too much pain and couldn’t stop shaking. Being wheeled by the nurses station, proudly holding my new born, on our way to our recovery room.

While it wasn’t all bad, it also wasn’t the birth experience I’d hoped for.  It’s left me wondering what could have been if interventions hadn’t snowballed.

Next time I will have a doula and I will attempt a VBAC.  I will labor at home for as long as possible before heading to the hospital and I will refuse an epidural, pitocin, or breaking of my water, unless absolutely necessary.  I want to labor in different positions, with different coping mechanisms and have a natural birth.

I believe all this is possible, but if it should end in another c-section I wont have these nagging doubts about what could have been.

Well, hello!

Although it’s been nearly a year since my last entry, I used to journal a lot.  I filled notebook after notebook with musings on anything and everything.  But it’s been difficult to keep it up since becoming a mom.   It seems I need something that will motivate and excite, with a little more accountability.  So begins this blog.

These days I operate between my baby boys’ naps and bed times, since he sleeps snuggling me.  (He’s only up for about 2 or 3 hours at a time).  My sweet husband has been playing with him so I could get this blog set up.  It’s so precious to hear them playing and bonding.  I love the days with dada home with us.  I feel so much more balanced, getting a little time for myself and also getting to spend time together, all three of us.  Bed time is fast approaching, which is mommy duty for our little family, so this first post will be short.  Just wanted to say hello and stay tuned for more posts to come soon!