Bedtime songs

This old man, he played one, he played knick knack on my thumb...
The other night Quinn and I were singing before bed just as we always do. When singing the tenth verse of "This Old Man," I couldn't think of something to rhyme with "he played ten, he played knicnk knack on my....." I paused to think about it, looked a Quinn for a suggestion. With a silly expression on his face, he looked back at me and said....
sock!
It didn't rhyme but it sure made us laugh.

The milk nazi returns

When we had Quinn, Brian started lovingly calling me the milk nazi. I was nearly obsessive about having a "stash" of milk in the freezer and how it was stored to make it last the longest. I pumped to build a reserve so he'd have plently while I worked if I was unable to pump at school. Quinn never had a single drop of formula. As a working mom, I was proud of staying committed to nursing....it is a difficult task. The last time I nursed Quinn was on the night of his second birthday. It was an emotional time for both of us. This was the one area of his life that no one else could do. Having worked full time, there were many things in his life that I missed...but this was one thing where I was irreplaceable.

At the time when I stopped nursing him, I still had a stash in the freezer. I had planned to give it to him but never really got around to it. Once in a while, if we were out of milk on a Saturday morning before I had grocery shopped, I would thaw a bag and give it to him in a cup with his breakfast. Now, one year and three months later, the stash was still taking up space in our freezer.

I had tried many times to get rid of it, but always found myself crying over the freezer unable to bring myself to do it. I worked hard to pump and store all that milk. It felt wrong just to dump it. It also meant admitting that Quinn was no longer a baby. That was probably the hardest part. While he'll always be my baby, he wasn't a baby any longer. In some weird way, I had to learn that his not needing my milk anymore didn't mean that he didn't need me.

So the other day, I did it. I emptied the last of Quinn's milk into the trash....as it had long past it's "good for one year in a deep freeze" mark and wouldn't be suitable for donation...shed a few tears in the basement and made room for a new stash for Clayton.

While this photo is a few days old, Clayton's stash is already up to 83 ounces. My goal is to pump at least 500 ounces before school starts in the fall. I don't know what my teaching schedule will look like...but just in case I can only pump once a day at school, I want to be sure that he'll have all the milk he needs. So in combination with a much milk as he wants from me, whatever I pump at school, and a reserve stash of one bag of milk a day for the entire first semester to get him to his first birthday to meet the bare minimum goal of one year....then anything after that is super mom.

One week old...2/17/12

On my last day of school, a few girls were hanging out in my office. One of them is very interested in photography. On a whim, I told her that she had an assignment to spend the weekend researching newborn photography. She immediately started jumping around excitedly saying that she was hoping I would ask her to take photos and that she had been thinking about it already for quite some time. I told her that she should have said something sooner so we could have really thought about it and planned. After the birth, I gave her a call to schedule when she could come over to the house. She suggested that since the kids were off of school on Friday, that Friday would be the best time to meet. A kid....spending time with a teacher....on a day when she didn't have to go to school.....now that's dedication. This was Corrie's first time shooting a baby...in our living room with some black bedsheets and props that we found around her house and ours. It was not as easy as I imagined....there was poop, pee, and a baby who wanted to sleep and not be messed with. Here is what we came up with.

Just like Daddy

My prayer for these two boys is that they would be just like their Daddy.

Quinn and Clayton,

You have a father who is marvelous. He is the farthest thing from the dad who watches TV and hardly acknowledges his children. He is quite the opposite. He plays with you every chance he gets. He reads with you, wrestles with you, plays ball with you, does "school work" with you, tells you he loves you and hugs and kisses you to no end. He is patient with you and never looses his cool.

Your father goes above and beyond the typical "dad duties." He does laundry, scrubs floors, vaccuums, dusts, does dishes...all without being asked or nagged. He does these thing voluntarily for the betterment of our family...to make your life better and my life easier....not just now right after birth but on a regular basis.

Your dad can take the pain of life after giving birth and turn that discomfort into stitch busting laughter. He can take a PBS nature show about the Tibetan Wild Ass and make light of a body torn in half without making fun. He is willing to run to Walgreens at 9:30 at night for nursing pads, ibuprofen, and pain relieving butt spray. Many men wouldn't venture near nursing pads, especially when they'd rather be getting ready for bed. Not your daddy....he went willingly, with a smile, and a crack about the Tibetan Wild Ass.

Your daddy relentlessly perseveres through difficulty and challenges. He never quits and never loses hope. He is the hardest worker I have ever known regardless of the task. He does all this because he is a man of great character and honor, who keeps his word, loves faithfully, and leads boldly.

My prayer for you is that you learn from him what it means to be men, leaders, friends, brothers, fathers, husbands, laborers, community members. That you learn his humor mixed with hard work, his playfulness mixed with determination, his love and committment, his friendship and fatherhood, his loyality, honesty, humility, bravery, integrity, and faith.

Afterbirth...and I don't mean placenta

After Clayton was born, we started reflecting on a variety of what I consider miracles. We started to see the many ways that God's hand was on this child, the pregnancy, and the birth.

At 28 weeks, people began commenting to me about how there was no way that I would make it to my due date. These were comments I recieved multiple times a day from well meaning friends and strangers. God had other plans for Clayton. He had no plans to come early. Even at a full week late, I showed no active signs of labor. I am certain that Clay would have waited at least a few more days before making his arrival. Not only did he make it to his due date...he made it a full week past it. People's comments were not in control, God was.
At 36 weeks, our doctor was concerned that I had to much amniotic fluid, which had some small but serious risks, he began doing weekly ultrasounds to monitor it. The first time he measured it, it was 26 cm. He said that if it reached 30 cm, he would induce us at 38 weeks. At 37 weeks, he measured it again and it had remained 26 cm. At 38 weeks, it had gone down to 23...the top egde of normal. At that point, he decided to leave us alone. When the fluid monitoring began, he told us most likely my water would break early because my uterus and amniotic sac wouldn't be able to handle my large baby in combination with the excessive fluid. Boy was he wrong. If the cord had not looked suspicious to Dr. Kaldas and required cutting, I think that it would not have broken at all and that Clay would have been one of the rare babies born in their amniotic sacs. Dr. Kaldas was not in control. God was to keep Clayton safe from all the scary risks and then gave him to us with no complications at all.

There were many things in addition to these seemed against us....but none of them won.

There was a song that our church started playing this summer and it always spoke to me, "Never Once" by Matt Redman. This song was never on the radio until the last few weeks of my pregnancy, and I only ever heard it at very interesting times.....before or after doctors appointments when I was nervous. The first time I heard it in the car was just before an appointment. I was a little early so I drove around the neighborhood to kill some time. I drove past Smith Park where Brian and I got married. The song came on as I approached the park. The song has a line, "standing on this mountain top, looking just how far we come," the chorus is about never walking alone. It was as if God was saying, I've been with you since the beginning of the marriage, why would I leave you now?

Then a few weeks later, after the appointment when I found out that Dr. Kaldas would be on vacation and I was scared to death about the possibility of not having him for Clay's birth. The song came on again, but this time it was like God saying, "it doesn't matter that Dr. Kaldas could miss the birth. I'm the one who created that child, and I'm the one who created you to birth him."

Standing on this mountaintop
Looking just how far we've come
Knowing that for every step
You were with us

Kneeling on this battle ground
Seeing just how much You've done
Knowing every victory
Is Your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Yes, our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did You leave us on our own
You are faithful, God, You are faithful
Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone
Carried by Your constant grace
Held within Your perfect peace
Never once, no, we never walk alone
Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did You leave us on our own
You are faithful, God, You are faithful
Every step we are breathing in Your grace
Evermore we'll be breathing out Your praise
You are faithful, God, You are faithful
You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Welcome Clayton William!

I'll spare you the 41 week photo...but here we are at 40 weeks. Clayton, you were so comfortable on the inside, I thought you'd never come out. We found out at 38 weeks that Dr. Kaldas would be about of town until February 6 which was four days past your due date. I was, to say the least, a little disappointed to think that I would have a stranger as a doctor. I didn't doubt the quality of the other doctors in the practice, but when you are planning a natural birth, you want the doctor who knows what you have agreed upon.

I had a check up the day before you were due (2/1/12) with a different OB. It was a Wednesday. Dr. Kollermeier was wonderful. The first thing out of her mouth was about the Bradley method and our desires of a natural birth. She seemed on board and excited about it. She even recommended two labor and delivery nurses who LOVE helping mom's have babies without pain meds. I really enjoyed the apointment with her. To make things better, she was on call that weekend! After meeting her, I ok with the idea of not having Dr. Kaldas deliver you and had decided that the weekend with Dr. Kollermeier would be perfect!

Your due date, 2/2/12, came and went!

The weekend came and went. Aunt Erin and Raegan were home from Chicago (in hopes that there would be a baby) to distract me from the waiting game.

On Monday, February 6, Dr. Kaldas was back in the office and we had an appointment at 4:00. They put us on the fetal monitor and you passed with flying colors. After 30 minutes on the monitor, we met with Dr. Kaldas. He checked me and I was only 1 cm dilated and 70% effaced. I asked him for my bishop score and it was a 8....so mildly favorable but nothing to get excited about. I allowed him to strip my membranes which was less than comfortable. He suggested that we come in on Wednesday evening to begin the induction process. We agreed under our own terms. We would come in for cervical ripening...no water breaking and no pitocin...period.

Meanwhile....I walked and walked and read about every old wives tale on the internet and even tried a few...not no avail. I had some mild but not effect contractions, lost part of all of my mucus plug and had very faint bloody show on Tuesday. I was certain that labor would start any minute and that we would have no need to induce labor.

On Wednesday, February 8, I wokeup at 6am to get ready for school. I taught all my classes and said a very tearful good bye to my freshman women's choir. They sang to me our Friday song and we all cried. There is a beautiful sisterhood in that class. My sophomores said good bye in a slightly more calm way...with lots of hugs and a few tears. It was a wonderful day. 40 degrees and sunny in February. In between my afternoon classes, I ventured out into the neighborhood to walk and pray. I joked with the ladies in the office on my way out the door that I'd call them if I got stuck out there. They laughed and said they'd send the police liason officer with the squard car and sirens to come and get me if I went into labor.

My walk was wonderful. I prayed in thankfulness for a healthy body that could still work and walk 3 miles daily with baby that was one week late, for your safe delivery, for the ability to make it through labor and delivery without pain medication, for your health. I prayed over every part of your body and every fear that had haunted me in these last weeks.

As I walked, I came across a sweet old man getting out of his car. He said, "Nice to take that baby out for a walk." I smiled and said,"walking to try to get this baby out." He chuckled in a wise old man way, with compassion in his eyes, as if he knew what I was going through.

After school, I went home gathered the remainder of what we needed for the hospital including the chocolate chip cookies for the nurses....a little bribery goes a long way when you are asking nurses to help you labor without meds, when it's easier just to get the epidural. We loaded up the car and went to Grandma Golden's house for dinner and to drop Quinn off.

I was scared...scared of the unknown, scared of getting induced, scared that I wouldn't be tough enough to give birth again. (Scared is sort of what I do when I'm not in control or when I don't know how things are going to turn out...just ask your dad...he'll tell you.) I had a tearful converstation on the phone with Grandpa Golden. He told me that I had pushed the limits of what our doctors were comfortable with and done my best to keep you healthy and while it wasn't what I wanted to happen, it was ok to let the doctor start labor to keep you safe and get you here to us. Shortly after that, we got a call from Sue....as soon as I answered she cheered, "push 'im out, push 'im out. Waaaaaay out!." Only Sue....leave it to Sue to lighten the mood.

I kissed your brother good bye as he sat at the dinner table. As I cried and kissed him, he said, "its ok mom, you don't have to be upset." He's a wise boy for only three years old. He must know by now that I'm a bit of a cry baby.

We got to the hospital a few minutes before 6 pm. We got checked in and settled in our room. Dr. Kaldas arrived. I was really hoping that he would check my cervix, find that it had dilated a few centimeters and send us on our way. However, that didn't happen. I hadn't made any progress since our appointment on Monday. I had spent 5 weeks dilated 1 cm and no signs of labor on the horizon. So, we let him place a tiny tablet called misoprostol on my cervix to help it soften. I spent most of the evening on the fetal monitol and walking around the "block" of the maternity floor. At midnight, after making no progress, they gave me a second dose. Ten minutes later, my contractions started. They were immediately 10 minutes apart, strong enough to keep me from sleeping, not strong enough to open my cervix. I spent the night up, walking, swaying, and praying. I let your dad sleep on the pull out couch. He didn't sleep much but I thought it was best for him to try so that he would be rested for when the hard work began. I knew that I would need to rely on him as we got closer to the end.

Our doctor arrived at 6:30 am to check on us. No progress! I had now been awake for 24 hours and hadn't eaten in just over 12. I was only allowed to drink juice, broth, and eat jello. I did sneak a few Ritz crackers to try to take the edge off. I could have eaten the whole box! Next time...I will disobey the rules. Food equals energy and energy is required in labor. Needless to say I was more than a little tired and more than a little hungry. Now with the news that I had been having contractions every 10 minutes for 6.5 hour and made no progress, I was also more than a little discouraged.

Dr. Kaldas wanted to try to speed up labor. He offered to break my water, give me a 3rd dose of misoprostol, or start pitocin. He knew that we wanted as natural of a birth as possible. I believe that he supported our desires...but was just doing what he might normally do with most moms. Dispite my discouragment, I remained committed to our goal of natural birth and I declined his offer. He said that he would return at 9:30 to check on us. We continued to labor until 9:30. When he returned, I was only 2 cm dilated. Again he offered the same options to speed up labor. I was discouraged and also afraid. I knew that if I allowed him to break my water that several things could happen....labor would pick up and be very intense or labor could stall and I'd end up with a c-section if I didn't have you in 24 hours. I expressed my concerns to him. He told me that he doubted those things would happen and that it would be highly unlikely that this would end in a c-section considering that this was my second birth and that I was so far past my due date. Having a c-section was one of my biggest fears. I knew that if I allowed him to take charge, that I would no longer be in control, that he would be making the decisions. I think he knew that I was afraid and, at the same time, knew that I wasn't going to change my mind. He told us he would return at 12:30.

After he left, we had a wonderful discussion with our nurse, Kris. She said that you were the "happiest baby on the block." She reassured us that you were doing well and that there was no medical reason to try to speed up labor. You heart rate looked great on the fetal monitor and you were handling the contractions with ease. She acknowledged that I was tired and hungry, but there was nothing wrong with waiting for my body to do what it was designed to do. She also said that Dr. Kaldas is the best OB to have if you want a birth your way, but like all doctors, he likes to be in control.

After this very helpful discussion, your dad said that we had to try to force my body to get going. So in spite of exhaustion and hunger...we walked, we swayed, we squatted and lunged, we rocked on the birthing ball, we sat in the jacuzzi, we did pelvic rocks, we sat on the toilet....everything we knew to do to try to get you down into my pelvis to get you out! The contractions started becoming more painful and I grew more and more tired.

Dr. Kaldas didn't come back at 12:30 like he said he would. At 1:00, I had Kris check me! I was 5 cm!!!!! Your dad's suggestions were paying off and my body was working.

The afternoon was long and difficult. The contractions consistantly 3 minutes apart for hours and were getting stronger and stronger as were my doubts and fears. It became a battle of wills. I was fighting my thoughts in a very real way. One part of me just wanted it to be over. I silently contemplated allowing Dr. Kaldas to break my water, or give me drugs....anything to get labor and delivery over with. My pain and my emotions were talking to me in a very loud voice.

My logical, Bradley method, brain that has researched natural birth, was telling me that all these negative, quitting thoughts were signs that my body was progressing, that I just had to keep plugging away. It was a battle between my emotions and what I knew were true signs of effective labor. Somehow, I chose to follow what I had learned not what I felt. I tried to convince myself that I could make it another half hour, then another, and then another.

At 4 o'clock, I started feeling lots of pressure. I had been sitting on the toilet and I began to dry heave which brought on some tears. Even though throwing up is not my idea of fun, I knew from having your big brother that throwing up in labor does wonders to open the cervix. My new nurse, Trisha, who probably heard me crying from the hallway, came in, checked me, and said that I was now 7cm and that my bag of waters was bulging. She thought that it would break any minute. For some crazy reason I asked her how much longer she thought it would be. She said probably a few hours. (Next time, I won't ask that question.)

I was completely out of gas. I had to get in bed...the last place that I wanted to be. But I tried to change from side to side frequently. At one point, something was telling me to get on my hands and knees. It was the closest position to upright as I could get with the little energy I had left. When I did that I felt more intense pressure. After a little while, I thought it was time. I was consumed by pressure and I cried for Brian to bring Trisha into the room...at the same time regretting that I sent him because it meant that I would be alone (even for just a few seconds). Trisha and Brian returned just a few seconds later. Trisha asked me to lay on my back so she could check me. I was a glorious yet disappointing 9 cm. This time more determined than before, I got back on my hands and knees for a few more contractions. It wasn't long before I had the urge to push. My body was starting to take over. Again I sent Brian for Trisha, this time with the intention of getting Dr. Kaldas! It was time....NOW!!!!!

Trisha came running in telling me not to push, to breathe through the contractions, that we had to wait for Dr. Kaldas to arrive. He was down in his office on the first floor. Brian says we waited for maybe 2-3 minutes. I thought we waited at least a year. When your body takes over and says it's time to push, it is the most difficult thing in the world to override that instinct to try to tell it not to. I stayed on my hands and knees until Dr. Kaldas arrived, fighting the whole time not to push.

He walked in calmly and checked with Trisha to see if I was completely dilated. She told him that she had checked me recently and I was 9 cm. In a flash, I remembered that pushing when your cervix is not completely dilated can lead it to swell closed and end in a c-section. I asked him to check me and he gave me the great news that I was complete!

I may have been completely dilated but now my urge to push had disappeared. Oddly, I apologized to him. He didn't seem concerned and said that the urge would return. I knew this and remembered that sometimes labor can stop to give mom's a quick rest. Some women even take a little nap. I didn't want a nap. I wanted to push. I wanted you out! I just wanted you here! I wanted to see your sweet face and know that you were safe and sound on the outside.

After a minute or two, the urge returned and it was time for the best, hardest work! Trisha held my left leg and your dad held my right. I wrapped my arms under each thigh and pull my legs back further. There was a mirror positioned at the foot of the bed on the left side and Dr. Kaldas stood at the corner of the foot of the bed on the right side. He stood there with his arms folded across his chest, sharing calm, encouraging words with his middle-eastern accent. He had not laid a finger on me. He just gently coached and described what happening.

I watched your entire birth in the mirror...which was strangely motivating and captivating. The amniotic sac had not yet broken. So it slowly bulged out of my body. This yellow, fluid filled balloon that had encircled you all this time was hanging out of me. It was about the size of your head. All the excessive fluid must have all collected in this first part of the sac that was presenting itself. The nurse noticed that it looked like there was meconium in the fluid. I could tell that this made her anxious. Normally, that means the nurse would have swept you away from me as soon as you came out. Dr. Kaldas calmly told her that you had been "breathing it in this whole time and that it didn't look to bad." He sort of disregarded her concern and she backed off.

Your head was next. I began to push harder and as I did, your head slowly crowned. I was overwhelmed with a burning sensation as my skin and muscles stretched and began to tear. Your sac was still entact so you were still hidden from me, like you face was behind a sheer veil. To this point, Dr. Kaldas has still not even touched me or you for that matter. Still standing with his arms folded, calmly saying, "you are doing it. You are doing it, Autumn. You are going to have a baby." As your head finished coming out, he calmly told us that it appeared that your umbilical cord was around your neck. I don't think that he was overly concerned as your heart rate remained perfectly steady at 132 beats per minute. However, to be safest, he asked if he could break the bag of waters to cut the cord from your neck. Your dad and I immediately agreed. He pinched the bag and the cord and cut them both at the same time. He unwound the cord and resumed standing off to the side, allowing my body to do the work. Dr. Kaldas was never flustered. The whole time, he acted as if this was no big deal....this was exactly the dimeanor we wanted in a doctor....someone calm, relaxed, and trusted that God made our bodies to do this. I continued to push and your shoulders passed through. As your torso was coming through, he gently slid your legs out and laid you on the bed to suction your nose and mouth. It took you a moment to cry. It felt like an eternity, however, it was just a few seconds. Then you cried and he started to hand you over to me. As he lifted you in my direction, I was ripping off the hospital gown so that I could hold you skin to skin.

You were finally here. The wait was finished. The pain was over.

You were here. Safe. Strong. Beautiful. Perfect.

8 pounds and 15 ounces. 21 inches long. 15 inch head circumfrence. At 5:44 pm on February 9th after only about 5 minutes of pushing. We didn't know if you would be a boy or a girl so we had several names loosely picked out. Your dad wanted you to be Clay William. I wanted Clayton William. For whatever reason, your dad told me that we could go with Clayton. The nurse took you just for a minute to weigh you and look you over. Your apgar scores were 8 and 8. Your dad trimmed your umbilical cord and they gave you back to me.

You started nursing right away. We requested that we be able to be with you for at least 2 hours before they did any testing. They were perfectly willing to honor this request. As we nursed and snuggled, Dr. Kaldas set to work of putting me back together. A second degree perineal tear, a small vaginal tear, and a hematoma were worth getting you here....not comfortable....but worth every stitch.

After all the repair work, we started making phone calls to grandparents, aunts and uncles. Dad started on his phone calling his side, and I was on my phone calling mine. We wanted your brother to meet you right away so as soon as he and Grandma Golden finished with dinner, they would be on their way. Grandpa Golden must have been just dying because when we called him, he didn't answer. Then we tried Sue....when you can't find Grandpa...call Sue. Sue said that he was already on his way to the hospital. He was your first visitor. He arrived about 7pm. He came into the room in a calm, awestruck way. He seemed relieved. Grandma and Quinn arrived just a few minutes later.

At first Quinn was a little anxious. I think he was nervous seeing me in the weird bed. I had him climb up to snuggle with me so I could reassure him that everything was ok. We encouraged him to get a better look at you. We let him touch you very gently and as soon as he did he started to relax. After a few minutes he was smiling and seemed to be a proud big brother. Quinn brought us cupcakes. We had a little birthday party for you. We sang "Happy Birthday" and everyone had a treat. Before leaving for the night, Quinn stopped to say good night to you.

That night, we had a very special nurse taking care of mommy and Clay. Rosa was our nurse. She was the nurse who had been with me during Quinn's labor and delivery. For some reason, I felt a very close connection to her because of how wonderful my experience had been with Quinn. I had been praying for quite some time that she would be our nurse again. While we didn't get to have her for delivery, I was so happy to have her. She walked in at the end of the night and started to intoduce herself. I took one look at her and told her that I knew exactly who she was and that I'd been praying to see her again. I had planned to keep you with me in the room...but because I had been awake for 40 hours at this point, I knew that I needed rest. With Rosa as your nurse, I was comfortable and confident allowing you to stay the night in the nursery under her care. She promised to bring you in when you needed to nurse and to hold you close all night long.

Dr. Solis-Rohr came to the hospital several times to check on you. She wasn't on call to be at the hospital but she came over anyway. She stopped by early Friday morning, then was back later on Friday for your circumcision and again on Saturday before we left the hospital.

The next day, Friday, we had lots of visitors. Grandma Golden and Quinn stopped by before lunch. Then Chris and Teresa Kliner. Aunt Amy and Uncle Jim came by in the afternoon. Then Grandpa Golden, Sue, Grandma Golden and Quinn came back later that night for dinner. Grandpa brought Cranky Pat's Pizza.

We left the hospital on Saturday morning. Dad went to Grandma's to pick up Quinn. Then we loaded up the car to head home as a new family of four.

Mani-pedi?

I know 5 weeks ago I said that I didn't care how long my toe nails got before this baby was born....but I changed my mind. When four weeks turns to five...and a woman is just about a week past her due date...and she catches a rare glimpse of her toe nails...and those toe nails are becoming talons instead....and for some psychotic reason she thinks that there is a small possiblity that her doctor or nurse might potentially sneak a peak at those claws instead of worrying about the baby about to be born....she takes desperate measure to return the eagle-like talons to her normal short toe nails.

So like any mildy crazy pregnant lady, she hoists her belly to the side, rests one foot at a time on the edge of the toilet seat, pretends to suck in, holds her breath, and breaks a sweat to cut those nasty claws.