Category Archives: Baby

6 Months of Honor

My goodness, have I got a lot to share with you guys! We just got back from a fun family trip to Gulf Shores, Alabama, which I will post about later this week (Lord willing), but today, I wanted to take a second to talk about this little nugget of sunshine, who is…

 6 months old. six months1
(As of yesterday).

Because a baby who is easy to take to the beach is an easy baby, indeed.

Honor Daniel is pretty much the definition of a dream baby. Which…is crazy because I didn’t think any baby could be more chill than Theo (not sure Honor is, but he’s giving him a run for his money). Of course, while Honor coos and dimples and does his best to win over the planet (pretty successful effort…everywhere I take him, people fall in love with him), Theo alternates between being thee funniest little kid and…a 2-year-old (need I say more?).

six months3

It’s okay–better than okay!–if you have abs like biscuit dough when you’re this age. Oh, his rolls are scrumptious!

Theo can still be delightful (often is), but in terms of  charm points, Honor’s definitely ahead at the moment (but then, he kind of has the unfair “baby” card to play). Especially now that he’s back to sleeping through the night (it helped immensely when we moved upstairs, and his pack n’ play was no longer 18″ from me). six months

No one around here ever complains about holding Honor. Wonder why.

Even with teething (his bottom two juuuuuust popped through), he spends about 98% of his waking hours alternating between smiling, grabbing his toes, happily drooling on everything in sight, giving big, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, and checking off every other “cute” box in the book. He wakes up in a good mood and goes to bed easily. It’s honestly kind of ridiculous. And I can’t imagine an easier baby to travel with (it’s a 9 hour drive to Gulf Shores).

HOWEVER.

As far as milestones, he’s a total slug. He rolled over at 3 months (pretty par) but hasn’t done practically anything since. He doesn’t crawl (or make any attempts to), doesn’t sit up on his own (although he’s quite strong and perfectly capable if he actually tried), and couldn’t care less about rolling all over the carpet (not that I blame him, since our current rug is a dhurrie one, which is about as soft as a ticked off porcupine).

six months2

Crawl?? Ha! That’s for peasants. Why crawl when my adoring subjects will carry me? 

Theo was the exact opposite in this regard. He did everything early. Earlier, in fact, than any of my other kids. Honor, on the other hand, is laidback and easygoing in the extreme and seems in no hurry whatsoever to be his own man, er, baby.

But he sure is the sweetest, cuddliest little slug you ever did see. And I know full well by this point that a mobile baby is a much harder baby to keep up with, so I’m actually grateful for my little 6-month-old sloth–especially since we don’t have flooring down in most of the house yet, and dirty, paint-splotched concrete is less than ideal for soft little baby hands and knees.

six months4

His reaction to Nola’s revealing that, one day, he will be required to transport his adorable chub all on his lonesome from point A to point B–AKA: walk. 

I know that every mother feels a little shock upon realizing that her new babe is “suddenly” no longer an infant, but this past 6 months really have been the most incredible whirlwind with Honor’s birth, prepping the old house to sell, selling it, busting our buns to get the new house ready to move into, moving, and then settling in (at least a little). I can definitely remember life before Honor (so I won’t say it feels like he’s always been here), but it seems a bit like an alternate reality–and one with considerably less sunshine and smiles (cheesy, but this kid really is a sweetheart).

So, happy 6 months, baby boy! It’s been an absolute Honor (whyyyyyy? I just couldn’t help myself. Sorry guys).

 

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Mama Life Hacks {#22}: A Breast-feeding Tip to Prevent Soreness

I almost feel embarrassed to admit that I’ve gotten horribly sore (we’re talking cracking, bleeding, blistering…the works) with every single baby except Honor. After all, that must mean that–six babies in–I still couldn’t figure out how to get a good latch.

Thing was, I’d had several people–long-time midwives and lactation experts among them–confirm that there was nothing wrong with my latch. Everything was where it should be. Baby’s lips were flanged. We were good. I’ve been able to successfully feed all of my babies for a year or more (well, Ezra actually only made it to 9 months, but that child ate so. much. food that my body literally could not keep up enough supply, at which point I got pregnant, and my milk supply completely tanked), so clearly, I’m doing something right. But for the first two weeks, I’ve been in so much pain that I dreaded every single feeding.

I have several mama friends who have confirmed the same–their latches were good, and nursing was going smoothly. Except for the fact that, until calluses formed, the entire process was excruciating, every single time. Of course, I’ve also known a few friends who have never dealt with nursing soreness, regardless of how practiced or not they were, so I just figured I was among the “lucky ones.”

You know who you are: the ones who take deep breaths and hold them to stifle the screams as your baby latches (or maybe you just muffle them into a pillow…not that I would know anything about that). You stomp your feet and hunch your shoulders up to your ears until, finally, the sucking numbs the pain, and you can relax a little. At least until next time.

If this sounds familiar, then this post is for you.

nursing 1

Because, for the first time in my considerable nursing career, I did NOT get sore while feeding my newborn, and it made a worldof difference in my recovery and mindset about feeding my baby in those first few weeks. 

And I have my rock star midwife, Melena, to thank for it.

Honestly, I don’t know that she would have even presumed to tell me anything if I hadn’t mentioned that fact that I dread nursing for the first bit after I have a baby (because who wants to tell a mama of so many something that she surely already knows?). But, since I did bring it up, she asked if she could show me something that had been helping her clients. And I said, OF COURSE! Honestly, I was a bit skeptical that anything would work for me and my (apparently) sensitive skin. But I was willing to give it a shot.

Thankfully, she sent me videos to show you (the first is real people, and the second is done with sock puppets, so pretty inoffensive to even the most modest) because I’ve thought about how to describe the latching process several times, and I just don’t think I can do it justice, especially for those of you who (like me) need visual aids for this sort of thing.

Here’s Video 1.

And Video 2.

The first part of the process is a different kind of position/latching method than I’ve ever used (seen in Video 2), and I honestly found it awkward and strange (I think almost anyone would). But I still did it for the first several days because I was determined to do everything I could to avoid the pain. And I believe it helped Honor to get an especially deep latch from the beginning. (I have since reverted to my usual latching method, and it works great now that I’ve got the second part of the process down).

But the second part, which isn’t featured in the videos, was the the most life-changing for me.

Once Honor had a good, deep latch, Melena had me basically slide him horizontally away from the breast on which he is latched toward the opposite breast. Not a lot. Just enough so that, instead of being directly on the nipple, the baby is, instead, slid away (as in toward the opposite arm, not down toward your navel), which redirects the nipple toward the roof of his mouth and takes all of the sucking force of off the ridge.

Oh my goodness, y’all. It’s so simple–literally a 1″ shift at most–but so effective.

As in practically no soreness (there’s a bit of a learning curve, and all it takes is a couple of minutes of sucking in a bad position to get a little bit sore, so I can’t say zero pain).

I spent the first 3 days thinking it was too good to be true. That surely the chafing and cracking were still coming. Something this easy couldn’t possibly have been the solution all along.

Or could it?

I am now convinced that it could and is the solution to my nursing angst.

I had considered sharing but wasn’t sure how many might need the info. But when I referenced this tip in passing in one of my posts and got a barrage of comments begging me to elaborate, I knew it was something that needed a blog of its own.

When I asked Melena why more people weren’t sharing this trick, she said that she was never taught this either and can’t even remember how she happened upon the videos (that I shared above) but that they just made sense to her. So, she started sharing with her clients, and they started seeing results. She also said that she knows many lactation specialists who teach that a good, deep latch–with the baby’s lips flanged–is the only factor for success, when, in fact, the positioning of the nipple in the baby’s mouth is equally (or, as I discovered for myself, MORE) important.

I so hope this helps you guys as much as it helped me. As I mentioned earlier, it completely transformed my view of nursing in the early days. I love nursing my babies once the soreness goes away. And I am determined to fight through it at the beginning to give them mama milk. But to not have to deal with it at all? It almost feels to good to be true!

Praise God for wise midwives who risk the wrath of potentially know-it-all mamas to share their wealth of knowledge!

P.S. Feel free to pass this along to any mama friends who might need to see it. I guarantee they will thank you for it.

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Honor’s Otter

So, I’ve had quite a few questions about Honor’s name: where did we come up with it? why did we choose it?

That sort of thing.

Which I totally understand because it’s not exactly a usual name.

Interestingly enough, as I mentioned in my teaser on my “name game” repost, I feel like it still fits with the rest of our names because a) it’s only two syllables (this is a completely unintentional “requirement,” but it has held true so far) and b) it’s old-fashioned–hailing from the 1800′s.

Another thing? It’s almost exclusively a girl’s name. As in, it’s not common, period. But anytime it does show up, it’s almost always associated with a female.

Which…seems strange to me, since the word Honor evokes a strong, masculine sense of purpose and integrity.

It’s a strong-sounding name to me. And to Shaun too, apparently, who surprised me again (just like he did with Ezra, Adelaide, and Magnolia) by preferring it over some of the more “normal” options we considered.

As far as where I first heard it?

Well, let’s just say that most of the original seeds for my children’s name inspirations are planted in less-than-highbrow soil.

Here are the origins of each of my children’s names:

Ezra: a fitness teacher friend mentioned a student named Ezra during class one day 12ish years ago, and I loved it immediately (clearly, I already knew about the Biblical book, but I’d never heard it used in conversation as a “real” name, and that made all the difference for me).

Simon: don’t remember. Shaun and I both just liked the name.

Adelaide–AKA “Della”: the name of the *dead and never pictured* mother of Emmeline Harris from Anne of Avonlea (the movie). I have literally loved the name since I first watched the movie a good 28 years ago.

Evangeline (which we pronounce–somewhat unusually–as: Eh-VAN-jeh-lin)–AKA “Evy”: the sister of one of my brother’s ex-girlfriends. It just appealed to me.

Magnolia–”Nola”: a dear friend mentioned a cousin’s friend’s sister’s baby (or something like that) with that name, and it majorly appealed to my Southern roots.

Theodore–AKA “Theo”: I spotted the name “Theo” in the rolling credits of an episode of Lost yeeears ago, and it just stuck in my mind.

Honor: the name of Logan’s sister in Gilmore Girls.

Clearly, I don’t tend to insist on their inception’s having great significance, but I will not name my child something if, after having researched its origin and meaning, it turns out to be something negative. (In case you’re wondering, my children’s names mean: “helper,” “he who hears/listens,” “noble,” “spreader of the gospel,” “a beautiful fragrant flower/tree,” “gift from God,” and “full of honor”…so we did all right in the end).

ANYhoo, not that you asked for that detailed of a rundown on all of my kids’ names when you asked about Honor’s, but I do know that I find the etymology of a person’s name fascinating, and others do too.

whole crew

 

{All the names I love in one spot!}

So! For those of you who are still awake, here is the story (that I promised to tell) of Honor’s Otter.

Shaun’s Grandma (Great-Grandma to our kids, of course) has a weekly Saturday gathering that we usually can’t attend because she lives over an hour away, but we try to go as much as possible.

One day, in the 2nd trimester of this last pregnancy, Shaun took the rest of the kids to Great-Grandma’s, while I…I don’t honestly remember, but it must have been significant because I pretty much always go.

And while he was there, one of the aunts asked Shaun what the new baby’s name would be.

To which he replied, “Honor.”

To which she replied: “…Huh??”

Shaun: “Hon-or.”

Her: “What?”

Shaun: “H-o-n-o-r.”

Her: “Ooooooooooh! I thought you were saying OTTER!!”

When Shaun came home and related this exchange, I got so tickled that I decided on the spot to change his name to Otter.

No, I didn’t.

But I did decide to commission Theresa to crochet Honor an Otter of his very own to commemorate his weird and wonderful name.

honors otter

Who knows? He made need therapy after having to spell his name for every single last person who asks for 18 years.

But, hey! At least he’ll be able to spell by age 2.

Any good baby name origin stories to tell? I’ll just be over here nursing Otter…er, I mean, Honor.

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Honor’s Birth Story {Part 2}

So, where were we?

Oh yeah. The making out.

Turns out my husband must be a really good kisser (but I already knew that) because mere minutes after he gleefully followed my midwife’s parting instructions, I experienced a 4 minute long, intense contraction. Like, as he was timing it, he kept looking at me expectantly and saying, “Done, right?” And I was all: “Um, yeah…oh! Nope! There it goes again.”

Thanks a lot, Husband.

Anyhoo, once that one finally released its vice grip, I went right back to matching socks. We had turned Fixer Upper off, since I can only do so many competing distractions in labor, but the sock folding was just the ticket to give me something that occupied my hands and at least a little of my mind.

In fact, assuming there’s a next time, I think I’ll keep a basket of unmatched socks around for labor. In fact, I think I’ll start now just to make sure I’ve got enough to work with. #sigh

There was now no doubt in my mind that, unless these suckers just stalled out for no good reason (entirely possible), I really was in labor. After the 4 minute whopper, my contractions kept coming, only instead of 10 minutes apart, as they’d consistently been for the previous hour and 1/2, they suddenly dropped to 6 minutes, and–after only a few of those–to 3 minutes.

The intensity had also ramped up at a rather alarming rate.

It certainly seemed that the safety brake on my slow body had been suddenly released, and we were careening down a rather steep hill toward an inevitable crash (car wreck as a metaphor for delivery? not too far-fetched, I say).

I mentioned that I might need to text Melena to hurry, but Shaun said, “She’s bound to be headed back our way soon, and you’ve got to do this for hours before it does any good.”

Thing is, normally he’d be right, but these were different, and I was certainly hoping he wasn’t.

Just like the contractions had felt different/sharper than usual earlier in the day, these felt even more so now. And not just sharper than earlier but sharper than I’d ever felt. I had described them as feeling like a knife being stuck inside me to Shaun earlier, and the comparison grew even more apt as they progressed.

I’ve heard that contractions after your water has broken are worse, and I can now personally attest that it’s true. As Melena put it, there’s just no cushion from the water bag to act as a buffer between the baby’s head and your bones.

By the time Melena got back around 11:30 PM, they were down to 2 1/2 minutes apart, and I was breathing and plie squatting through them. I know that sounds like the pits since squatting seems like it would put more pressure on the cervix as you go down. But, even though that’s somewhat true, there’s a certain point near the bottom of the squat at which the pressure is relieved almost entirely, and the act of moving/doing something during the swell/peak/release tends to distract, at least my mind, from the pain.

In between contractions, Melena set up the antibiotic drip and hooked me up via IV. I wasn’t thrilled about my decreased mobility, but I could still reach the socks, so I kept the dread of each new contraction at bay by returning to folding–almost compulsively–as soon as the last one was done.

labor

{I laughed out loud when I saw this picture; that was the biggest/most genuine smile I could muster at this point}

Tangent: By this point, with 6 natural labors under my belt, I’d say that I’m decent at pain management. But the thing that I find most interesting is that–had I had these kind of contractions this close together with hours to go 4 labors ago–I think I would have been panicked. I can remember literally being loopy and hazy with pain during transition with Simon. My midwife was snapping her fingers in front of my face and trying to get my eyes uncrossed, I was that out of it. But even though I’ve experienced that kind of pain since, I’ve never reached that level of grogginess again. It’s fascinating to me how our mental expectations of pain can literally determine our physical ability to handle it because this time (and with the last two), until the very end when it became one blur of constant pain, I was completely present and lucid between each contraction, conversing and doing everything possible to distract myself from worry about “the end.” God really has given us amazing physical resources, and I am never more aware of that than when I am in labor.

ANYhoo, once the antibiotic drip finished, Melena released me from the line, and I began doing laps around the kitchen and living room, fighting to walk through the worst of the contractions, which had bumped up in intensity yet again.

Melena, who was an assistant at the twins’ birth and the primary midwife at Theo’s, had never seen this version of active labor for me, since the twins’ labor progressed steadily but very calmly (once it finally kicked in after 4 days of stop-start nonsense), and Theo’s was all over the place, to put it mildly.

I don’t tend to make too much noise during labor, but when my breathing took on a wheezing sound during some of the contractions, she definitely started watching me more closely.

On my part, I had lost all track of time, mostly because of intense focus, but also because our power had flickered at some point, and the oven clock was just blinking instead of displaying the accurate time.

But I knew one thing: these couldn’t go on too much longer, and I wanted to at least try laboring in the water. I had assumed, since the water had killed my hiccupy contractions with Theo’s labor, that I wouldn’t be able to labor there during this one.

Given the level of contractions I was experiencing, though, I wasn’t worried about that anymore, and, when Melena gave me the go-ahead, I had Shaun start prepping the water.

By this point, I could feel my legs turning to Jell-o, and even as painful as the contractions were, knew it was time to let them do their dirty work.

So I slogged upstairs and did the last thing in the world I wanted to do: straddled the toilet. I don’t know why this position is so effective in letting the baby descend, but it’s worked its “magic” (kind of feels like the “black” variety at the time) every time I’ve been willing to do it.

I didn’t feel a sudden huge shift in pressure like I did right before the twins came, but the contractions ratcheted up yet another notch, and I was relieved, to put it mildly, when Shaun came and told me the tub water was ready.

I climbed in on wobbly legs, but, unfortunately, because we had had to run the hot water through the pipes until it was cold to eliminate any lingering sediment or other ickiness, the water was barely up to my belly, even after Shaun boiled two big pots of water on the stove (and no, the irony of having “boiling water” on hand for a modern home birth is not lost on me…there were clean towels too, believe it or not).

So, the first “tub contraction” wasn’t nearly as much of a relief as I’d hoped. In fact, by this point, the contractions were coming so close together that I barely had time to catch my breath before the next one started. And since I was on my tailbone in the tub, without enough water to offset gravity nearly as much as it needed to to really help, the back labor that I’d been experiencing the whole time but managing to mostly ignore because the front labor was so intense, became acutely more noticeable.

Thankfully, Shaun had another round of water ready before too many contractions went by, and he came and replenished the tub, adding cold water to balance it out until I could slide down into it.

Again, I had no sense of time by this point. I just knew that these were the most intense contractions of my life, and that, if I hadn’t been in the water, I might have been a bit out of my mind with the pain.

Lindsay, who had been checking in with me via text for days as this whole in labor/not in labor situation progressed, had sent me a list of verses to pray, and I’d been cobbling together fragments of them in my mind for hours.

“Lord you are the stronghold of my life, an ever present help in times of trouble.”

“You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee.”

“You are my strength and my salvation. Let me not be put to shame.”

“Whom shall I fear, for you are with me.”

As the contractions progressed in the water, and the pressure built, I added this to my prayers: “Lord, this next one is yours. It’s not mine. I can’t do it. Only you can.”

And you know what? He did. Every time I thought: no more, NO more…I realized that the last one had ended, and I had a few seconds to start over again on my jumbled up prayers.

Finally, there was a shift. Not nearly as noticeable as it would have been out of the water, but undeniable nonetheless.

Melena heard the change in my breathing and volume levels and came running upstairs to check on me (up to this point, I hadn’t been making any noise that could be heard downstairs, and she was trying to give me and Shaun space; not too surprisingly, she hadn’t expected me to progress so rapidly).

I was in so much pain that I just wanted the baby out, regardless of how much MORE pain that entailed. I kept asking the Lord for the courage to relax my body when everything in me wanted to tense my muscles up to control the pain.

By this point, the contractions were so close together that I couldn’t really tell when one started and ended, so when Melena–who needed to grab her oxygen machine for the baby, just in case–asked me whether I had a break yet or not, I just shook my head and clenched my eyes shut even tighter.

I have a distinct impression of my body simply taking over like it never had before. I wasn’t pushing so much as surrendering. To that end, I sank lower and lower in the water until my mouth and nose were covered. Because who needs to breath when you’re pushing?
I remember Shaun’s grasping my arm and trying to lift me up a bit. I’m sure the poor man thought his wife was drowning herself, but all I could think was, “Leave me alone! I am far from fine, but neither one of us is going to be fine if you don’t stop touching me!!” (P.S. Shaun is ah-mazing during labor; I wouldn’t trade him for anyone, even if he does do silly things like try to save his wife from drowning durng labor ; )).

When I finally got a tiny break, Melena ran for her car, but as soon as she was gone, a strong pushing contraction started, and I felt the baby crowning. His head came out with that push, and I heard Shaun shouting, “Head! His head’s out. We have a head!”

She was back in no time, but I hadn’t had another contraction yet. Again, though, I was just so ready for this to be over that I started pushing anyway.

I could feel his shoulders coming and Melena’s helping guide him, until–suddenly–he was out!

She lifted him out of the water and placed him on my chest, and he immediately began squawling like–well–like a big, healthy newborn.

birth

{Just FYI: the grayish streaks on my face are mascara–aka: what I get for laboring in the water without taking my makeup off from the day before…wasn’t exactly high on my priority list}

And you know what I did?

I went from being in agonizing pain to sitting up straight as an arrow in the tub, clutching my baby to my chest and gasping: “He’s out! He’s here! Praise Jesus, I’m not pregnant anymore!”

Which…is pretty much what I say every time.

But seriously. The shift was that sudden.

When all was said and done, I’d been in “real” labor for 6 1/2 hours–4 1/2 of that at rather intense levels and almost 2 hours of that at super-intense levels in the tub (if you’d asked me how long I was in there, I probably would have said 45 minutes; it all ran together).

I think that might be a record for speed for me…if you discount all of the lead up mess. Which…I sort of do and sort of don’t.

And, of course, Honor was perfect, and I felt so much better immediately afterwards that the words “worth it” don’t even begin to describe it.

new honor

 

{Honor, having a contemplative moment after getting run through all of the usual newborn rigmarole. P.S. I’ve got lots more photos from my big girl camera that are considerably better quality, but considering how long it’s taken me to get this posted with fuzzy pictures, I figured you wouldn’t want to wait for the crisper ones; I’ll post them later…maybe…no promises}

Funny side note: we’d been telling ourselves all along to completely ignore my January 2 “due date” and use the 15th instead.  Surely, he’d be out by then. Anything before that was a bonus.

Of course, when the contractions started seeming real–ON the 15th–we rolled our eyes at each other for speaking this date into existence.

But then, true to its pokey nature, my uterus STILL missed our “outside due date” by…2 1/2 hours. Go figure.

Not that any of our speculation mattered one bit. As is always the case, our sweet baby came in the Lord’s perfect timing, and we are just beyond thrilled that he’s here.

brand new

 

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Honor’s Birth Story {Part 1}

If you read my latest update before Honor’s birth, then you’ll know that I had been contracting for daaaayyyzz…which is nothing new for me. Prodromal labor–the oh-so-official title for mild pregnancy torture–is my close and constant friend when I’m waiting for a baby to come.

If you’re unfamiliar with the concept, it’s not unusual for prodromal (or false) labor to establish strong, steady rhythms for long periods. It can feel very much like labor…except that–ultimately–the contractions never get stronger, longer, and closer enough together to get a baby out.

It’s fuuuuun.

Fortunately, after 5 other similar rodeos, I was not the least bit fooled by this particular bucking bronco (forgive my weird metaphors; I’m mildly sleep-deprived).

Sure, there were a few times that I thought, “All right, this could go somewhere.” But not enough to actually change anything about what I was normally doing.

And then Saturday rolled around, and the 4 youngest and I decided (code for: mama decided, and they obediently piled in the car) to do a little thrifting. We visited a few stores in a local small town, ate lunch at Dairy Queen (where a man who was leaving at the same time we were asked when I was being christened for sainthood…presumably because I had 4 kids 6 and under with me and was hugely pregnant?? I assured him that “Never” was a pretty sure bet), and then headed home where I wrote a blog post while the kids napped…and I contracted.

While we were out “on the town,” I’d had a few contractions that felt…different. Sharper. Less meaningless. I didn’t think much of it, but they just kept popping up every 1/2 hour or so, and by 5 PM, when Shaun and the boys got home from working on the new house (which is what they do every Saturday, pretty much), I was starting to pay the squeezes at least a sliver of my attention.

We ate dinner, did a little clean-up, and by that point, I was getting a decent contraction every 15-20 minutes. This had happened several times before, but not with this level of sharpness, so we put the kids to bed early and started casually timing them while picking up around the house, flipping the laundry, loading the dishwasher, etc.

My midwife, Melena, had done her absolute best to strip my membranes the Tuesday before, but ever since Ezra, my cervix has always been super-posterior and hard to reach until the very end of labor, so–while she managed to ascertain that I was dilated to a 3 and about 50% effaced (encouraging but not exactly meaningful, considering some people walk around dilated to a 5 for months)–I wasn’t expecting much in the way of results.

Sure enough, another 4 days had gone by with little to no noticeable change in my state. On that same Tuesday, she had also given me a tincture of herbs to help move labor along once it seemed a bit more real, so Saturday night, I started dosing myself with that in between loads of laundry.

And you know what happened?

My contractions stopped. Just…fizzled out completely.

Truth be told, I wasn’t even that disappointed (or surprised). By that point, it was almost 11 PM, and I wasn’t that interested in starting real labor at midnight (never mind that I’ve never NOT labored through at least one full night before).

I finished up my last chore around midnight and lay down, feeling sure I wouldn’t be up again before morning.

Throughout the night, I woke up with the keener contractions but managed to go back to sleep. Around 5 AM, though, I had several strong ones in a row and couldn’t fall asleep again. Right before I got up, though, I had the distinct impression of peeing a little on myself without any actual effort on my part and thought, “Uh oh. That’s not good.”

My water has only broken before delivery one other time–with Della–and then, it was only a small high leak that sealed itself immediately and never produced anything else until she came. Even so, it created a lot of anxiety, since it put my midwife on guard for more leakage and put me on a deadline for having her (she gave me 24 hours before we considered going to the hospital). When Della’s labor stalled after I dilated to a 6, I spent the next 18 hours frustrated and worried I would end up with a hospital birth despite my best efforts to the contrary. My labor finally did kick back in at 7 PM, and I had her by 1 in the morning, but it was still a bad association with waters breaking that has lingered with me for the 6 years since.

I shuffled to the bathroom, hoping against hope that I had just become suddenly incontinent (only time I’ve ever wished for that), but it became clear very quickly that my waters had, indeed, broken–at least to an extent.

I took a shower and blow-dried my hair (something I almost never do) and then went to tell Shaun that my water had broken. He has the same association I do, so he looked a little concerned, but we both decided to just wait and see if the contractions would keep coming regularly, at which point we would take the kids to my mom’s.

frizz

{Anybody else resemble an electrocuted poodle after they blow-dry?}

The one thing I felt a tiny twinge of excitement about was the concept of possibly/maybe/Please Lord delivering during the day. That’s happened twice (Ezra and Theo), but only because I was up the entire night(s) before laboring.

I was far from hopeful, though.

The contractions were still there 30 minutes later when I finished straightening my hair (also something I pretty much never do), and the kids were all set to get in the van.

So, off we went on our merry way–skeptical but a little optimistic.

I had 3-4 decent contractions on the 30 minute drive, but almost the moment we pulled in my mom’s driveway…they stopped.

We were at my parents’ house for about an hour, and I didn’t have one real contraction.

It was the first time I felt genuinely discouraged by the whole stop-start business this pregnancy. I mean, I’ve come to fully expect it, but at 41 weeks and 5 days, I was getting a little weary of it, and I really didn’t want to waste my mom’s time (she loves her grandchildren more self-sacrificially than any other woman I’ve ever seen and never complains about keeping them, but I prefer not to dump all 6 on her doorstep without good reason).

So, right there in her living room, my mom and Shaun stopped and prayed over me–for peace, for perseverance, for progress (i.e. pain…you can’t have a baby without that, in my experience).

We decided to go ahead and leave the kids there, trusting the contractions to return and be real, and left. I kind of figured we would go home and wait for labor, but Shaun had a better idea (pretty sure he knew that my “watched pot never boils” body wouldn’t do well with just sitting around waiting for the next contraction).

So, we went to get Thai food for lunch (yes, I went all stereotypical and ordered it spicier than I normally do, even though I know it doesn’t actually work like that). And on our way, my contractions kicked back in.

They were different this time. Sharper still. They were the kind of contractions I would classify as a 5 (dilation) but still too sporadic to be doing much.

After lunch, we headed to Lowe’s to figure out some house details. At Lowe’s I had at least two contractions that had me stopping to breathe and grab the closest shelving. Honestly, I was a bit baffled, since each intense contraction was usually followed up by either nothing for a good 15 minutes or something so piddly it was barely noticeable.

Mostly, I just rolled my eyes and kept waddling along, determined to ignore them until they really, really hurt and were really, really close.

On the way home, we stopped by the grocery store for essentials like salt, toilet paper, Hershey’s Nuggets (with almonds and toffee, of course), and…wine? Yup. Hilarious because I pretty much never drink anything–much less while pregnant–but two separate friends had suggested buying a bottle of Moscato for labor, since they know how slow/tight my body tends to be and thought a) it might help me loosen up a bit and b) would be fruity enough for my alcohol-averse taste buds.

It took us a laughably long time to even find the Moscato and even longer to figure out if there was an advantage to one bottle over another, but we prevailed in the end.

And all the while I continued to contract at random intervals and levels of intensity.

My midwife–whom I had informed of the water leakage and contraction situation that morning–had been checking in via text all day and suggested that, when we got home, I lie down.

28-year-old Abbie would have been all: “Uh uh. No way. That will kill the contractions for sure.”

But 34-year-old Abbie thought a midwife-prescribed nap sounded just dandy, and if the contractions died, well, all the better because then they weren’t real anyway.

I lay down for over an hour, awakened by a grand total of 4 strong contractions. At this point, I’d been in sort of labor for 24 hours and was pretty sure it was all just a big hoax.

As soon as I got up, though, they kicked back in a bit, so I took some more of the herb tincture and ate some dinner. 15 minutes later, they stopped…and stayed gone.

After 45 minutes of not even one contraction, I felt my old frustration at my pokey body returning, so I texted Melena something like: “What the what is my dumb body doing??” To which she replied: “I dunno. Can I come visit?”

Of course, I said yes, though I assured her it was probably a waste of her time, and she said she didn’t care and was coming anyway.

Then, I asked Shaun to get the Bible and read to me from the Psalms while I lay on the couch.

This method had “worked” twice before when I got too anxious for my own good, so–while I wasn’t really expecting anything miraculous to happen–I was still hopeful that it would banish unnecessary stress before it settled in my already tense muscles.

He read for a good 1/2 hour, and I just listened with my eyes closed, soaking in the promises, enjoying the peace, and not contracting one single bit.

Then, I got up, went to the laundry room, and hauled 2 giant baskets of unmatched socks into the laundry room (my three oldest kids fold 99% of our laundry, but they are notorious for finding only the most obvious sock matches and throwing the rest in a basket, so there was puh-lenty to keep me busy).

We put on an episode of Fixer Upper and started matching. And matching.

By the time Melena showed up around 8:30, I’d had two contractions (after an hour and 1/2 of diddly squat) 10 minutes apart, but other than noting their existence, I thought absolutely nothing of them.

Melena had a theory that, with the somewhat slow leakage I’d experienced, there was a chance that the leak had sealed itself, and the bulging water bag near his head was still intact, in which case the risk of infection was moot, and this baby could just come when he felt like it (pretty sure that was what was going on anyway, but whatever).

When she checked me, though–no small or enjoyable feat for either of us since my cervix was still very posterior–she could feel his hair.

My heart sank a bit. I mean, obviously, he would come when he needed to, but being on any sort of deadline has never done anything but slow my already turtle-paced body down, and I felt the old dread that I would end up in a hospital on Pitocin after 9 months of midwifery care.

Fortunately, Melena is just the chillest human being on the planet and a very relaxing presence, and she assured me that a hospital visit was unlikely but that she would prefer that–since I refuse Group B Strep testing and my status was unknown–we start a round of antibiotics, just to be safe.

I’m not a fan of antibiotics as a rule, but when it comes to keeping my babies safe, I’m all for ‘em.

Melena stuck around for another 45 minutes, working me through some Spinning Babies positions (basically gentle posture/stretching exercises to help the baby get into the optimal position for making the contractions effective), and I noted–almost subconsciously–that I was still having contractions every 10 minutes or so and that they miiiiight possibly be getting a bit stronger with each one.

After that, she left for the birth center to grab everything she needed to administer the antibiotics, giving Shaun and me strict instructions to…

Make out.

Oh, yes, she did.  Because, boys and girls, this kind of monkey business releases Oxytocin, which cause uterine contractions. Aren’t our bodies weird and wonderful things?

Not too surprisingly, Shaun thought this was an excellent notion and assured Melena of our absolute compliance. #men

So, off she went to the birth center, leaving us alone, one of us still hugely pregnant and contracting every 10 minutes and the other grinning like a mouse who got locked in a cookie jar.

And then…but wait. I just looked and saw that this post is over 2,000 words long already, and all I’ve only covered the part where I wasn’t really in labor, so let’s just take a break for a moment and reconvene for Part 2 soon, okay?

Okay.

Honor, who has been doing this pretty much the entire time I typed this…

honor

is starting to wake up and tell me about all of his hopes and dreams (aka: milk).

Until Part 2!

 

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30 Week Pregnancy Check-in: Baby #7

When you find out that you’re pregnant as early as I typically do, the whole process can seem to drag a bit.  A girl I follow on Instagram was surprised by her 5th pregnancy–to the tune of not knowing until she was fully 10 weeks pregnant. And I couldn’t help but feel a taaaaad envious. I mean: 10 whole weeks of not knowing you’re pregnant is practically the same thing as not BEING pregnant, or…something that like that. Of course, then she had her baby at 36 weeks (the baby was perfect…no complications), so she got to skip another month. And then, I really was jealous! :)

Ha! I kid (mostly), but I was actually pleasantly surprised to realize that, last Monday, I hit the 30 week mark with #babynumber7. I mean, that’s legit. We’re getting there! And I’m guessing that, with Thanksgiving, Shaun’s traveling, birthdays (Della’s, Simon’s, and Theo’s), and Christmas just around the corner, the time will fairly fly.

Until I hit Jan. 1, and this babe is still snug as a little love bug in his mama’s belly. Because my due date is technically January 2, but if you’ve been following along for any amount of time here, you know my babies like to be well-done before they make their appearance.

I am definitely mentally preparing for 1) lots of Braxton Hicks/false labor/mental torture for the last 6 weeks or so and 2) a January 15th delivery date. Maaaaaaybe, just maybe, then I won’t get as antsy as I have during the last two weeks of–well–most of my pregnancies.

ANYhoo, since I’ve made it to 30 weeks, I thought it might be time for another check-in.

31 weeks

{I know this is not my usual “bump shot,” but I forgot to have Ezra take my pic on Monday, and we finally made it to Charleston–YIPEE!–so a GAP dressing room side-pic will have to suffice}

If my belly were a grocery basket, it would have this in it: I’ve never really done the whole, “My baby is the size of a _____________” comparison before, but apparently, Baby #7 is about the size of a coconut at the moment. Funny, since I’d have said pumpkin or watermelon with the way he’s already stretching up into my ribs. Oy.

If I could only eat one thing until he comes, it would be: nope. Still no significant food cravings. I still drink about 3 too many Dr. Pepper Icees per week (hangs in head in abject shame), but the rest of the time, I eat the exact same things that I always do (i.e. lots of fruit, veggies, carbs, and protein at home–with the occasional Thai food, pizza, or Chick-fil-a thrown in).

If I were an energy meter, my readings would be: alllll over the place. I’m finally over that epic cold I had, so I have more energy than I’ve had in weeks, but I feel like I flail wildly between CLEAN. ALL. THE. THINGS. and a constant mental chant of, “Nap, nap, nap, nap…” I would really love for the energy to stick for longer than 24 hours, but I’m happy that it exists at all, so no real complaints.

If I went into labor today, Baby #7 would have: no room at the inn. Ha! So, Theo is still in his crib and will remain so likely until we move because our babies usually sleep in a bassinet in our rooms for the first 2-3 months. BUT! Thanks to generous friends/hand-me-downs, I’m pretty well kitted it out with baby clothes. And everything else is still hanging around from the last–oh–six or so. So, I’m not too worried.

If I wanted to confuse you majorly, I would: show you this picture…

otter

…and tell you that this adorable crocheted otter, which I had Theresa (go follow her on IG! She’s so stinkin’ talented!) make for me, is a clue to the baby’s name. :)  Can’t wait until I can tell you the whole story! (hashtag so mean)

If I had my exercise druthers, I’d: quit. ha! Not really. I know I’d go fitness stir-crazy in no time. But I’m not going to lie: I don’t feel bad when I exercise as a general rule (and I always feel better when I’m done), but I am SO over pushing myself as hard as I did with my last 3 pregnancies. I can remember being terrified of losing some of my strength if I went down on my weights in BODYPUMP when I was pregnant with Della. And now I’m over here happily cutting my squat weight in half and LOLing at my silly 27-year-old gung-ho self.

Perspective and age, yo. They are good, good things.

Also, I probably still have 60 classes to teach before he comes, so…I figure I’d better pace myself.

If I had to pick my favorite cute things the kids do/say about the new baby, they would be: the way Della kisses my belly every night and quietly/earnestly says, “Good night, ________. I love you.” She’s such a sweetheart these days. The fact that Theo has started saying his name, and it’s the just the most precious thing ever (don’t think he has a clue WHY he’s saying it, but he’s a very dutiful little parrot). Oh! And the fact that Nola still checks in every now and then with: “This is a girl baby, right? ‘Cause I really want a girl baby.”

If I had my best guess as to the baby’s future profession, it would be: an American David Beckham. This kid likes to KICK. And wiggle, shimmy, jostle, and jive. He’s a mover, y’all. BUT! My midwife’s assistant said that she thinks all of his limbs are facing outward, with his spine curved along mine, which would explain why I can feel everything so keenly.

If I had to name one thing I’m doing differently this time, it would be: myofascial stretches. My midwife, Melena, (also a nurse, by the way) has me doing these exercises to align and loosen my myofaschia (the “webbing” that covers all of our muscles/tendons) in hopes of shortening labor length (she’s seen good results so far) and just helping the process to go more smoothly all around. And I’m all for it! My muscles/tendons are really tight from all of the exercise I do, and my labors are long, so if there’s even a chance that a couple of easy stretches will help, I’m game.

If I could wear anything for the rest of the pregnancy, it would be: leggings and tunics. But I don’t wear them. I hardly own a pair of leggings, so I’m usually to be found in exercise clothes or stretchy jeans (some maternity, most just a size or two up from what I normally wear) and flowy tops. Next best thing.

Aaaaand, there you go! More info than you could have ever truly wanted to know about this pregnancy.

But when has that ever stopped me from sharing anyway? (Never).

Hope you have a lovely weekend, friends! I’ll be eating my way through Charleston for the next 2 days and then returning to real life until the baby comes (at which point it becomes real, real life).

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25 Week Pregnancy Check In {Baby #7}

Welp. I’m 25 weeks pregnant today. Which means it’s about time for another oh-so-fascinating check-in on how this little guy is doing.

25 weeks logo

Overall, I’ve felt bigger this time around (even though the scale, which I’ve only stepped on once, says I have gained the same amount of weight as I had at this point last time). Rounder belly earlier. Just generally more change in my body more quickly than I’m used to. I think my body is distributing things differently. Baby’s higher than usual, for sure. I’m usually a super low carrier.

P.S. I am NOT complaining here. Merely observing a difference between this pregnancy and others.

And, after looking back at my 24 week pregnancy update with Theo, I can definitely see a difference in my shape (not bad, not good; just different), so…I guess it’s good to know I’m not just imagining things?

theo24 weeks

Considering that I started with the “faux-questionnaire” format last time, I guess I’ll just go with that again.

So, here are the answers to all of the questions that maybe no one has even asked, just in case you might possibly have been wondering.

How has this pregnancy compared to the others?

Hm…I guess I already sort of answered part of this with how I think my body’s reacting differently.

I touched on this in my recap of the first 20 weeks, but this has maybe been the hardest pregnancy yet (other than the twins’). More exhaustion, more nausea, more mood swings, more/worse varicose veins. Yippee! That said, I think I’m finally completely in the clear on the debilitating exhaustion and nausea front. I’ve only taken one nap (other than Sunday…Sunday naps are sacred) in the last month, and, in general, I have decent energy until bedtime. I’ve even had a burst or two of nesting but nothing sustained. As in, the piece of furniture I hauled upstairs that used to hold all of random toys (that I sorted, threw out, and organized the same day) is still sitting in the same place I left it over a week ago. Sigh. Baby steps (Ha).

What is this baby like?

Hmm…well, I thought he was super-wiggly and was a little worried that we had a hyper one on our hands, but Shaun claimed that I said the same thing about Theo (aka: Lil’ Chill Dude), and as I looked back on my 24 Week Update, it turns out he was right. I talked about Theo being a mover and shaker too. Which kind of makes me glad that I’m taking the time to write these. (Because aren’t we just so sure we’ll remember every little last detail, and then, no matter how hard we try to hang on, it all starts to fade? Good thing for labor. Bad for the rest).

Do you have a name yet?

Yup. :) Although…I’m not stuck on the middle name, so we’ll see.

Are you still exercising/teaching fitness classes?

I am. I teach 6 classes a week, and Tuesday is fast becoming my least favorite exercise day of the week, since I teach Grit Plyo (think: squat jumps off of a bench, tons of burpees, jack push-ups, tuck jumps, etc.) and then BODYPUMP. Grit is exhausting in its own right, but halfway through Pump, all I can think is: are we done yet?

I’m already having to modify majorly in Grit (not Pump), but I’ve joked with my participants that, by the end, I’ll be sitting in a deck chair with a glass of lemonade calling: “JUMP! DROP! PUSH-UPS!” At least I think I’m joking.

Funny story: the other day, a new childcare worker told me, “This is weird, but I had a dream about you. You were, like, 9 month pregnant and still teaching…” at which point, I said, “Um, well, that part’s not a dream. I do that every time.” And she was like, “Whaaaat? No way! Oh, and then you went into labor.” And I was: “Um, yeah. That’s probably not going to happen, and even if it did, I’d probably just finish teaching the class, then go home, eat dinner, and do some laundry before I had the baby.” #darnslowlabors

Still planning on a home birth?

You better believe it! I’m not one to say never, but, barring some kind of significant change in my mindset/midwife situation/health, I think I’m going to be a home birth girl from here ’til there are no more babies to birth. I just love being in my own bed with no one prodding or poking me afterwards. No monitors. No nothing. Being able to eat/walk around/get in the tub/just generally do as I please during labor is pretty awesome too.

Of course, I have family that is willing to take my kids for a couple of days when the baby comes, so I’m sure I would be more enthralled with the hospital option if I didn’t.

I’ll be using Melena again (one of the midwives who assisted at the twins’ birth and then was the primary at Theo’s birth after my longtime midwife, Thalia, died suddenly from a stroke), and I’m super-happy to have someone that I trust so much assisting me again.

How have people responded to your having another baby?

Honestly? I’ve made very few “official” announcements. And, in the South, if someone doesn’t give you a big toe in the door to say something (you know, besides, “Bless your heart”), then you don’t necessarily say anything at all (well, to their face…ha!).

So, while my belly is growing by the day, I haven’t gotten just tons of comments, either good or bad. I think there were many weeks of, “Has Abbie just given up and starting eating bon-bons for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?” at the gym since no one much officially knew until we got back from Colorado. But now that they do, nobody much seems to notice.

Which is TOTALLY cool with me!

I think, maybe, by this point, it’s kind of obvious that this is just what we do. And everybody has, more or less, accepted that. Our family on both sides are very supportive of our having however many kids the Lord blesses us with, so we’ve never heard a peep of opposition from them (yes, I know; we’re very thankful). And I’ve actually gotten FEWER comments lately at the grocery store. I think part of this is because we only go once a week, which is one of the few times I run errands anymore with all 6 kids with me, and the rest of the time, I usually have little kids with me while the older ones are at piano practice or Softa’s (my mom’s) house.

WHATEVER the reason, I’m completely fine with the lull in comments. (They were pretty intense when the twins were babies and both in car seats; that was quite the attraction, apparently). On the one hand, they definitely give me an opportunity to share the Lord with people, so I should desire more contact, but my flesh would definitely prefer to just zoom in and out of Walmart without too many roadblocks along the way.

Hmm…maybe I should start praying for more people to stop and talk to us.

Any big pregnancy quirks?

Um, y’all. It’s so embarrassing, but I am quite the snorer when I’m pregnant. I sleep on my side and everything, but, combine my–what? pregnancy sleep apneia?–with the cold that I’ve been fighting for almost 3 weeks now, and I actually feel a little sorry for my husband. He’s a pretty sound sleeper, though, and hasn’t resorted to sleeping on the couch yet, so I guess we’re fine.

And now it’s your turn.

If you’re pregnant right now, give me a shout out and let me know how far along you are, when the baby’s due, how many other kids you have, whether or not you snore…you know…the important stuff.

I’d love to learn more about you!

Did I leave out something that you’re just dying to know?

I can’t even imagine, but if so, ask away!

 

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And Baby #7 is a…

So, have I kept you guessing long enough about the gender of #tiebreakerbaby? I honestly feel almost guilty because…I’ve known for a good six weeks. We found out at 15 weeks right before we went to Colorado, since we knew we’d be seeing lots of family and wanted to be able to reveal the pregnancy AND gender if at all possible. Thankfully, it was possible.

And we had the gender re-confirmed (Ezra was all: “What did the sono guy mean by, ‘Let’s see if this baby is still a __________???” I think he was genuinely worried) at our most recent sonogram last Tuesday.

sono

Friendly little thing, waving and all.

And it turns out that Baby #7 will officially be on…

team blue1

Yup. It’s a boy. Indisputably.

I told myself I would, but I didn’t officially go through every single social media/blog comment to tally the percentages of boy votes versus girl ones. However, a quick glance showed it was pretty evenly split, with a sliiiiight advantage for the girl vote. (I think).

Which. Is honestly what I thought too. I typically (well, with all two such pregnancies so far) have stronger symptoms with girls, and my nausea (pale in comparison though it is to what so many suffer) and exhaustion definitely lasted longer with the twins and Della than with the boys.

But this little guy has thrown me for a loop. I think I’m finally over the nausea (haven’t had anything significant in about a week), and I had a day last week when I had TONS of energy (if only I could bottle that one up), but other than that, this has felt like a girl pregnancy to me.

Shows what I know.

Of course, the boys were thrilled.

team blue

Although…I love Theo’s, “I’m smiling because my brothers are smiling, but…why…are they smiling?” expression here.

The girls, after a very brief moment of disappointment, showed themselves fickle to their cause and switched over to Team Blue lickety split. They have now claimed their as-yet-unborn baby brother as “theirs.” Except for the occasional lapse when Nola confidently informs me that “the baby in your tummy is a girl baby.” To which I respond with a gentle negative, and she remembers anew that the girl camp has been outmatched…and proceeds to blithely bop her way onto whatever next catches her fancy. I’m actually really excited to see how the girls interact with the new baby because they were all a little too young to get that jazzed about Theo, but they’re all acting adorably motherly and proprietary this time around.

How Theo will respond when faced with the actual fact of the interloper is a mystery. But I was genuinely worried about Della’s reaction to the twins’ birth, since she was a major mama’s girl. And she was fiiiiiine. So. I think we’ll figure it out.

Speaking of figuring things out, you guys had some really great comments/questions on last week’s post, and I’m still working my way through those and putting together a blog post with the “answers” (ha! as if I’ve got them all). So be on the lookout for that soon(ish). Who knows? It might cure a nagging case of insomnia or three. I’ll try to be lively.

ANYhoo, I’d best head to bed before the little boy in my belly decides that I need to eat a(nother) one of the Italian Cream Cupcakes that I whipped up “for the girls in my home school co-op” (riiiiiight, Abbie).

Happy Monday, friends!

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#Tiebreakerbaby (Baby #7): Who am I?

First up, THANK YOU so much for your words of encouragement, excitement, and celebration with us. I know that we’ve never made it anything close to a secret that if the Lord gave us more children, we’d happily take them, but still, announcing a seventh kid is not always met with such joy and positivity, and I can’t really adequately express how grateful I am for each of you that took the time to say YAY with us! (And each of you who thought: Whuuut? They CRAZY?!…and kept it to yourselves. insert laughing/crying emoji).

7 weeks

7 Weeks – Oh, abs. How I miss thee. Push-ups just aren’t the same without you.

I’ve false started on this post at least 6 times because I wasn’t sure which direction to go with it. Do I do a recap of the whole pregnancy so far? (YAWN…no, really…that would be a good word to sum up how I’ve felt for the most part). Do I hit the highlights? Do I skip the whole first half and go straight to the gender poll? (Because you know I love me a good gender poll).

9 weeks

9 Weeks – Trying on a dress my husband loved in the Vancouver Anthro…sucking in mightily.

So, here is the briefest (that I know how) of recaps, and then we’ll get straight to guessing exactly who is kicking around rather impressively in this big ol’ belly of mine.

I knew VEEEEERRRY early that I was pregnant. How? Because I woke up one morning with the vividest of dreams. Seriously. That was my first clue, at least. Like at maybe 1 week (well, technically, 3 weeks…if you count the two weeks from the 1st day of your last period that they include in your 40 weeks…SO weird that you’re already considered 2 weeks pregnant before you even conceive…but I digress).

13 weeks

13 Weeks – Shopping for the girls. Full of dinner from Zoe’s (my fave “fast” food), and…sucking in mightily.

I literally went from having completely dreamless sleep to 3 days in a row of such intense sleep adventures that I had trouble waking up from them.

And that was it. I just knew.

16 weeks

16 Weeks – at the wedding in Colorado…and not sucking in mightily
enough, I guess. I saw this picture and was like, “Whoa, baby.” And I
wasn’t talking about my husband, although he does look dashing.

So far, this pregnancy has been very similar to my others (well, the twins’ was a little different, but that’s a given). Which is to say: fairly easy and blessedly uneventful.

Buuuuuutttt…I’ve been SO tired. I think (oh, Lord, please) that I’m finally getting some of my energy back, but I’ve really never hit that magical 2nd trimester rush of endorphins and perkiness. I take naps every chance I get, and there have been days when it’s felt like if I didn’t lie down right that second, I might die. Only a slight exaggeration, y’all. This was legit exhaustion.

17 weeks

17 Weeks – on a date in Boulder with Shaun (duh) and–you guessed it–sucking in/angling for all I’m worth.

I’ve also been considerably more nauseated than ever before (including the twins). It’s still nothing compared to what some (many) people deal with–just a generally icky feeling on a fairly regular basis that won’t just go away and stay gone.

ANYhoo, other than that (and let’s face it: the fact that I really don’t like the physical changes and challenges that a pregnancy brings to my body…I’m not a lover of pregnancy, in general), it’s all been good.

Of course, the awesome part is that no amount of tiredness, sickness, aches, or expanding hips can even hold a candle to the exquisite bliss of holding a baby, fresh from heaven, in my arms and marveling at the fact that the Lord used my body to create this little bundle of perfection.

So, that’s where we stand.

baby74

20 Weeks – Because “outtakes” are fun (ahem, twins + my derpy expression). NOT sucking in at all.

This pregnancy has felt slow as molasses so far (despite the summer streaking by in a lightning blur of activity), but I’m hoping, with school starting, that the weeks will just melt away. (I can only imagine once we get into the holiday season).

And now we get to my favoritest part: the gender poll.

So, what do you think?
Is #tiebreakerbaby a boy or a girl?

Because, yes, there is just one in there.

P.S. Guessing whether it’s a boy or a girl is not the same thing as saying that you want it to be a boy or a girl, and my asking what you think is not saying that I have a preference either, so no fair saying: Team Healthy Baby. We are ALL on that team together! :)

P.P.S. After I announce a pregnancy,  I always get an influx of emails asking me questions about: pregnancy (of course), life with lots of kids, birth (particularly of the unmedicated variety), family planning, even pregnancy fashion. I’m happy to (and do) answer all of these individually, but I thought if there are that many folks willing to send emails, then maybe there are others who don’t message me that have questions too? Maybe I’m way off on that. BUT! If you do have a such a question, feel free to ask it in the comments, and I’ll put together a blog post answering all of them soon(ish) :) .

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A Tiebreaker

When we first found out we were having a boy as our sixth kid, I expected to get a lot of Brady Bunch references.

But it pretty much never happens.

I do, however, get congratulated somewhat regularly on having an even number of boys and girls. I never quite know how to respond to, “3 boys matched with 3 girls? Good job, Mom!” Umm…thank…you? If only I could claim credit.

Well, I’m afraid that we’ve gone done and ruined any chance of being complimented on our gender planning savvy because we’ve got a tiebreaker in the oven, y’all!

baby7

Not too surprisingly: A) the kids are THRILLED and B) the girls want a girl, and the boys want a boy. (Well, Theo is still existing in blissful ignorance of his imminent dethronement as the reigning baby of the house, but the older boys have claimed his vote, and he seems down with the t shirt).

baby72

Before you go speculating about my blue dress…note my pink nails, please.

baby73

Don’t worry. Evy is happy about a new baby. She’s just a little miffed about being edged out of prime bump-hugging position.

In case you’re wondering, I’m 20 weeks today, and I feel HUGE. I look at these pictures and realize that I don’t necessarily look so very big, but I can definitely tell this is Baby #7, and the ol’ gray mare almost-34-year-old abs just ain’t what they used to be.

Oh, and just so you know, we didn’t wait until 20 weeks to announce for any particular reason. It’s just when I managed to get some pics taken and a post written with a bump to show for it.

So…

baby71

YAY lucky (don’t believe in it, but whatever) #7! We love you. We praise God for you. And we can’t wait to meet you!

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