Post-Partum Depression

This morning while drinking my coffee I came across this article in which a mom was writing about her experience with Post-Partum Depression.  I have to admit, I felt a little like I was reading my own story.  This post-partum period after giving birth to Lydia has been the only one of my three pregnancies that didn't involve soul-crushing PPD.  Thank God.  Seriously, praise God.  Post-Partum depression is like a monkey who won't get off your back.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a mother.  Not just have a baby because babies are adorable and snuggly and wonderful little creatures, I wanted to be a mom.  I never have had any desire to be a career woman, whatever that entails.  I wanted to get married, have babies, and stay home to raise them.

I got the married thing done in 2005, and the next year we got the pregnancy thing figured out. :) In 2007, Amelia Jean arrived on the scene.  The first few months were rough, physically mostly, as I adjusted to round-the-clock care of this sleepless, constantly eating, demanding little princess.  Aside from the sleepless nights, the constant nursing, and my constant eating trying to keep up my calories to produce enough milk for this ravenous beast, things were going fine.  I would find myself crying sometimes when she wouldn't stop crying, more out of sleep depravation and frustration than anything.  Sometimes they have eaten and been changed and attended to and they still just cry.  But as a new first-time mom it was confusing, frustrating, and exhausting.

When Amelia was 6 weeks old, I unfortunately had to return to work.  I cried about it for weeks leading up to it.  We were in a financial position that demanded I return to work, or you know, not be able to eat or keep the lights on.  I was so upset about it though.  All I'd ever wanted was to have this baby and be able to stay home and raise her, but unfortunately I was going to have to hand off some of that responsibility to my mom and our wonderful daycare provider.  The day arrived when I had to take her to daycare the first time and surprisingly I didn't cry when I dropped her off.  To be honest, I think I kind of felt a little relief that I wasn't going to be the one trying to console her when she would inevitably start crying for no reason.

At about 4 months post-partum I changed jobs, and shortly thereafter noticed that suddenly none of my clothes were fitting me anymore.  I had lost 30 pounds within two weeks after giving birth, and suddenly when I stepped on the scale, I had gained 30 pounds in a month.  I was unable to stay awake past 7:00 pm anymore, even though the baby was sleeping through the night.  I could barely stay awake through work, I wasn't really that hungry or eating that much, and I was cold all the time, which was out of the ordinary for me.  I called my doctor and asked if she would give me a physical to see what was wrong.

I arrived at her office and explained my symptoms.  She noticed my puffy face, my thinning hair, and the bags under my eyes in addition to my other symptoms I listed and immediately sent me for lab work.  In less than a week I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism.  She sent me to the endocrinologist who looked over the lab results with me.

"As you can see on your lab results, Mrs. Ihle, the normal range for your results should be between 0.25 and 4.0.  Your results are at an 84.  It's no wonder you feel so awful!"

She put me on a higher dosage of Synthroid and it took about 4 months to get my test results into the normal range.  The doctor had told me at my appointment that once we got the test results into the normal range that I should start feeling much better, be able to more easily lose weight, and everything would be wonderful again.  That's not exactly what happened.

My test results were finally okay, but I still felt horrible.  I could barely drag myself out of bed most mornings.  I wanted nothing but to go straight to bed when I got home from a long day at work, but instead I had to care for the baby and try to keep some semblance of order in our home.  I felt no connection with the baby, and really couldn't have cared less if John and I were ever intimate again at that point.  I just wanted to crawl in bed and be left alone.  Everything made me feel anxious, or tired, or stressed, or just plain exhausted.  I couldn't have made a decision if you had put a gun to my head.  I wanted to run away from this life that I had so desperately wanted all those years.

At my wit's end I called the endocrinologist's office and set up another appointment to discuss things with her.  On the way up to her office, I told John that I was desperate for her to help me.  I still felt so awful.  I blurted out, "If this is how I'm going to feel for the rest of my life, then I'd rather be dead.  I can't live like this anymore."  I think he was scared for my health and for my life. 

The visit with the endocrinologist was awful.  We got off on the wrong foot immediately when she walked in and said, "I thought I told you I didn't need to see you for 6 months?"  Well, excuse me, you also said that if things weren't improving that I should come back.  They're not improving.

She listened to my explanation of how I was feeling and told me that based on my lab work it didn't seem like it was thyroid-related.  She told me that she thought I had depression.  I left her office furious.  The next day I called my primary care doctor who had diagnosed my hypothyroidism and made an appointment with her.

When we met the next week I told her how furious I was over the other doctor's rude treatment of me.  She said that she was surprised at the other doctor's rudeness, and that she would be more than happy to manage my medication with me instead.  I told her what the doctor had said about the depression, and in a much gentler conversation, she told me that it was possible.  She gently asked me how I was feeling, physically and mentally, and determined that maybe we should try starting me on a small dose of anti-depressant.  It was 10 months after Amelia had been born at this point, and she told me that since it had been less than a year after Amelia's birth that it was considered to be PPD, not necessarily clinical depression.  She gave me a prescription for the lowest dosage of the anti-depressant and asked me to seek out therapy to help me work through things.

I started taking the pills and didn't notice much difference at all for the first month.  After much hounding from John, I finally sought out therapy through our workplace assistance plan.  They found me a local, Christian-based therapist and I was able to have five free therapy sessions with her.  After those five sessions, if we still thought I needed to come back, it would go through my insurance.

My first session was a getting-to-know-you kind of session.  We talked about my history, what was going on in my life now, what medicine I was on, etc.  She could tell just by talking to me how broken I was at that point.  She suggested that I call my doctor and ask her to increase my dosage a little, just to try and give me a better jump start.  The difference was amazing.

After five weeks of sessions, and the increase in dosage, I felt like a different person.  I had been able to go and honestly talk about my feelings about things in my life and my relationships without fear of judgment, and I had finally found the right dosage for my depression.  At our fifth session she told me she didn't think I needed to see her anymore, unless I needed to come back later for a "tune-up," if you will.  She told me she could see a huge difference in how I was feeling, and I could too.  I no longer felt like the walking dead, and I no longer felt like I wished I was dead.  I could finally enjoy being a mother and want to come home and be with my husband and my daughter.  I no longer wanted to run away.

I stayed on the anti-depressant until we started weaning me off it in order to conceive again.  After Thomas was born, things were fine for a few months again.  But then they had to adjust my thyroid medication again and I was back to the hypothyroid-induced PPD.  Luckily, this time we knew what to look for and things didn't get out of hand.  My doctor told me that if I even remotely thought that I was getting to that place again to call and she would see me right away.  At five months post-partum I felt that same walking dead feeling again so I called and we had an appointment and she got me back on the medicine and back on track. 

I no longer need the medicine at this point, but I am not opposed to going back on it someday if I need to.  I have been on anti-depressants at three points in my life--the two episodes of PPD, and when I went through my divorce 11 years ago.  I have experienced situational depression and chemical-imbalance depression.  The situational depression was much easier to come out of.  The PPD didn't ease up until we got the chemical imbalance fixed.  I am just thankful that when I needed it, the medicine and the therapy were there to help me.  If they hadn't been, I may not be here today.

If you or a loved one are experiencing PPD, or any other type of depression, don't be afraid to seek help.  Depression doesn't mean you are weak. 

Lydia's Birth

It's a rainy, crappy day in Iowa, so why not finish my last birth story to brighten things up?


On August 16, 2012 we were in for the surprise of our lives—we found out we were expecting baby #3!  It came as a complete surprise to us, and we really didn't know what to make of it.  It took at least a month for the shock to wear off for both John and me.  Once the shock wore off, we gradually became very excited about our future arrival.

As expected, I once again developed gestational diabetes, as I had in the other two.  I was put on insulin around 14 weeks, and as with my Thomas pregnancy, it really helped to keep my glucose in check.  Also as with my Thomas pregnancy, I only gained 12 pounds because of the restricted diet.  Sure helps with the weight loss afterward!  This pregnancy also turned out to be my easiest pregnancy to date.  I had no nausea or morning sickness at any point, I really didn’t have any food aversions, and I craved pretty healthy foods.  I was just more tired than the last two times, probably because I already had two kids to chase around and a full time job!

Because of the gestational diabetes, and this being the third time around with that, we knew that we would once again be facing an induction.  We also knew that I would want to have another natural labor.  I did it the first two times so I really couldn't see any reason to need an epidural when I have such short labors anyway.

38 weeks!

Twas the night before Lydia's arrival.....

So, on April 22, 2013 we woke up early and finished putting all kinds of unnecessary items into the hospital bag while we waited for Mom to arrive to watch the older kids.  As we were getting close to time to leave I realized that I had forgotten to make a birth plan so the nurses would know what I did and didn't want.  We woke the kids briefly to tell them goodbye and remind them that when they came to see us after school got out that their new sister would be here.

We hopped in the van and my nerves started dancing.  My stomach did a few flops and I just kept trying to remind myself that we would meet our new baby in a matter of hours. Halfway to Davenport I quickly wrote up the world's shortest birth plan.  I kept reminding myself I had done this twice before so this was just going to be more of the same.  John talked about all kinds of other things to distract me.  He knows the unknowns of labor and delivery always make me a little nervous.  What if I need a c-section?  What if there are complications?  What if something goes wrong?  I have never taken for granted the fact that I have always had complication-free deliveries and healthy babies.  And I know those are things that can change in an instant.

We arrived at the hospital just before 7:00 am and they sent us up to our room in labor and delivery.  We had the sweetest nurse, Kris, who was so nice and hilarious.  She got us all checked in after about 3,000 questions and set about putting in my IV.  After blowing two veins she called in another nurse who was finally able to get the IV set.  Man, my arm was sore for two days, and it took over a week for the bruises to go away.  IV's and my veins don't get along.  Our midwife Beth came in and did a cervical check and found that I had made a little more progress from the final visit 4 days before, so she felt confident the Pitocin would do its job beautifully.

After the IV was set, somewhere around 9:00 am, they started pumping me full of saline and Pitocin.  Within 20 minutes I started having small contractions.  They monitored the baby's heartbeat and my contractions for about 20 minutes and then allowed me to walk the halls to try and get her to drop into place.  John and I spent the next few hours wearing a path into the hall carpets, sitting on the bouncy ball, walking some more, "enjoying" a clear liquid diet, fighting with the belts on the monitors that kept sliding around my belly, breathing through the contractions, and walking and bouncing some more.

At 1:00 pm our sweet midwife, Beth, who delivered Amelia almost 6 years earlier, came back to the room having already delivered 5 babies since midnight, and proceeded to check my cervix again.  I had progressed some more and she felt comfortable breaking my water and getting the party started.  Almost immediately the contractions picked up in intensity and speed.  They monitored me for about 20 minutes again to make sure that the baby didn't go into any distress due to breaking my water.  She was performing beautifully on the monitor, so they let me relax in the bathtub to help relieve the pain from the contractions.  I think it's my favorite place to be during labor.  With Amelia I relaxed in the tub for at least an hour which really helped me to progress, and Thomas was almost born in the tub because I stayed in there so long!  The heat from the water and the nice jets really helped relax away the pain.

We had told the nurse and the midwife that Thomas came in two hours, so they were both very concerned about leaving the room and having me spontaneously deliver in the bathtub.  It was kind of nice to have them stay close, because I was concerned too that they might not get to me in time if the baby decided to come too quickly. 

As I was laying there I was starting to get concerned that maybe things weren't progressing very quickly and that maybe this was going to take a really long time (ha, I should have known better!).  At some point Beth checked my cervix again and told me I had dilated another centimeter.  I started to feel more discouraged, like maybe she wasn't going to come out.  It's kind of funny the tricks your mind plays on you when you're in pain and you can’t see the clock.

After what felt like quite a long time in the tub, my bottom was starting to go numb from the way I was laying in the tub, and I felt like something was keeping the baby from moving down properly.  Nurse Kris and Midwife Beth had stepped out of the room for a few minutes and I asked John to help me roll over onto my hands and knees in the tub.  I wanted to try to change positions but didn't want to get out of the tub in case it made things worse and I wanted to lie back down in the water.  He helped me get turned over and I asked him to put the nice warm wet towel on my back to keep me warm, and keep from giving everyone a really embarrassing view of me!  Somehow it confused him and he tried to put the towel across my back like one would put a saddle blanket on a horse!  I informed him that that was not exactly what I had meant and that I wanted it to cover my WHOLE back and bottom if he didn't mind.  Light bulb!  With my towel situated I could focus on the next contraction. 

About that time Kris and Beth made their way back into the room to see how I was holding up.  "Oh, we've changed positions, huh?" Kris said with a smile.  Beth came in and said, "Oh, looks like you're shaking a little bit, that's a good sign!  Would you like to get out of the tub and come to the bed?"  She could tell already that the time was getting close and didn't want me to have the baby on the way to the bed.  I told her I would come to the bed, but that I wanted to use the toilet first since I'd been drinking tons of water and getting pumped full of fluids for several hours.  I used the toilet between contractions and told her I was ready to head to the bed.  While I was in the bathroom they had messed with the bed and set it up in such a way that I could continue to be on my hands and knees and give that position a chance to work. 

After a minute or so and another contraction I was ready to leave the bathroom and finally head to the bed.  Beth and Kris helped me to get onto the bed and wrapped a warm blanket around me to keep me nice and toasty.  I had one more contraction almost immediately upon getting onto the bed and breathed through it.  After that contraction Lydia decided that she was ready to make her debut.  Beth said to me, "If you start to feel any pressure let me know and I'll make sure I'm ready."  No sooner had the words left her mouth than a new contraction started and I immediately felt the pressure of the baby dropping into place.  Through clenched teeth I stage-whispered, "PRESSURE!!!  LOTS OF PRESSURE!!!"  Beth kind of chuckled and said, "That's good, we're all ready so whenever you're ready you can start to push!"

I've never really been in the hands and knees position before during labor, so I guess I kept expecting them to tell me to turn over to the sitting/reclining position to deliver the baby.  To my surprise, they didn't.  They let gravity take over and with every contraction I could feel Lydia pushing toward her final destination. 

Beth told John to get a pair of gloves on and she would allow him to "catch" the baby.  John seriously couldn't have been more excited.  He got his gloves on and took his place behind me as I started to push.  I must have pushed about a half dozen times or so.  Even though it was my third time doing this, it took me a few pushes to get the hang of it since I'd never pushed from this position before.  Once I got the position figured out though, it was only a few more pushes and she was on her way out.  Beth helped John to get himself properly positioned and at exactly 3:00 pm he proudly caught his newest princess with his own two hands, while I said, "Thank you, God!"  I was so glad that was over and she was finally here.

About that time I heard Beth telling John that I would probably want to turn around then so there were two ways they could get the baby to me: either they could pass her between my legs to me to grab, or they could hold the baby and let me turn while I brought my leg over her.  After expending all of my energy, I decided that I would rather do the latter.  I started to turn and Beth said, "Okay, I guess we're doing it this way!"  I got settled in and they placed my sweet baby on my stomach and wrapped her in a towel while she practiced using her lungs.  She was still attached to the cord at that point and I was unable to see her face, but I could see her dark hair and her tiny fingers and toes that were flailing everywhere.  After about twenty minutes they cut her cord and I was finally able to see her precious little face.  She was sucking on her hands so I decided to see if she would attempt to nurse.  She immediately latched on like a champ and nursed for about twenty minutes.  I told John I felt like I had just run a marathon.  And I was so happy.

Another one, fresh out of the oven.

 Even though I really didn't have a birth plan, I still got everything that I wanted and more.  They had allowed me labor the way I wanted.  They didn't push drugs on me.  They let me take my time delivering her, even though she was out in a matter of minutes.  They didn't cut the cord immediately, instead allowing her to get all of that wonderful cord blood into her system.  They let me nurse her immediately and didn't even attempt to take her from me for bathing and examining her for over an hour.  It was wonderful.

7 lbs 8 oz of sweetness and screaming.

Lydia Irene was a surprise, to be sure, but the best kind of surprise.  I can’t imagine our family without her.  Not a day goes by that she doesn’t make me laugh.  She has been an incredible blessing, and I am so happy that I get to spend every day at home with her. 

Proud big sister.

These kids couldn't imagine life without this baby sister either.

Thomas's Birth

He's only 4 1/2 years old, but since I wrote up Amelia's birth story awhile back, I figured I should do the other two as well!


In January of 2009, John and I decided that we were ready to give Amelia a sibling.  We decided we would wait about six months because I was on some medications for the severe post-partum depression that had been left in the wake of Amelia’s birth and my doctor was weaning me off of them.

In February, I had to go to the gynecologist’s office for some unrelated tests, and was scheduled to return in 2 or 3 weeks to go over the results.  The Sunday of the week that I was to return for my test results, something just felt “off.”  As a woman of child-bearing age, I of course had a few pregnancy tests sitting in my bathroom cabinet just begging to be peed on.  So I figured “what the heck” and took a quick test while getting ready for church that morning.  I went to the kitchen to make my morning coffee and almost forgot about the test on my bathroom counter.  I went back into the bathroom to check the test and almost choked on my coffee.  It was positive.  What?!  That wasn’t supposed to happen!  At least not for another 4 months! 

John, who was completely unaware of my covert peeing mission, was a little thrown off when I came out with my test stick and demanded that he tell me if he saw one line or two.  “Oh, I don’t know, I can never read these things,” he said.  I remembered that I had one more test left in the pack and that it was a digital test, the kind that actually says “pregnant” or “not pregnant” when you pee on it.  So back to the bathroom I went after I finished my coffee to try again.  Five minutes later the answer was clear.  I was definitely “pregnant.”

I was in shock.  John was cool as a cucumber.  “Well, we were going to be trying for this in a few months anyway, we’ll just have our baby a few months sooner than we would have.” 

“Yes,” I said, “but we were going to try and pay some more bills off before then.  And your job just changed and your paycheck took a huge hit.  The timing could really be better.”

“It will be fine.  Everything happens for a reason,” he said.

When I returned to the gynecologist’s office a few days later, the doctor gave me my test results and asked if I had any questions.  “No,” I said, “but I did just get a positive pregnancy test a few days ago.”  She congratulated me and told me to set up a prenatal appointment on my way out.

It was a rough pregnancy.  The gestational diabetes came back at around 11 weeks.  By 14 weeks I was on insulin to help control it.  At 37 weeks my blood pressure was inexplicably out of control and I was forced to go on modified bed rest for the remaining two weeks until my induction. 

30-something weeks pregnant.

I was to be induced on Monday November 30^th, just days after Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving was long, uncomfortable, and exhausting for me.  I remember sitting in the recliner at my father-in-law’s house, worn out but laughing with the in-laws over the visible movements of the baby rolling around in my tummy.  He was such a mover and you could really see every movement as he rolled from one side to the other.

Saturday November 28^th I had to go to the hospital for my final non-stress test.  We had to do it at the hospital since the doctor’s office was closed for the holiday.  I was hooked up to the monitor, as well as the blood pressure cuff.  My blood pressure was high again, so the nurse told me that she would have the on-call midwife come in and check on me.  Kim came in and asked me how I was feeling.  I told her that I had been having contractions off and on, including some strong contractions the previous morning for about an hour.  She checked my cervix and found that I had made some progress from the previous appointment and said, “I think we’ll go ahead and admit you and get this party started.”  John and I looked at each other in a slight panic.  We hadn’t made any arrangements for Amelia’s care.  We didn’t have my bag.  We were expecting to have two more days to get things in order.  John said, “Well, I guess we won’t be making it to Thanksgiving dinner at your grandparents’ tonight.”  Kim said, “Oh, well in that case, just come back in tomorrow and we’ll do it then.  There’s no emergency, we can wait until tomorrow!”  That was a relief!

Sunday November 29th was a very busy and special day for our family. I didn't sleep much at all the night before in anticipation of this baby’s arrival. John and I woke up at 5:00 am to get everything loaded up for the hospital and get on the road. Nana came over to stay with Amelia, and we made the drive up.

At 7:00 am we arrived at the hospital to check in and went on up to the labor and maternity ward. They got me all checked in and started my IV so that they could get the Pitocin drip pumping. A little while later, our midwife Kim stopped by to check in and let us know she was there. She checked me to see what my progress was and found that I had made a little bit of progress from the previous day. She said we needed to keep the Pitocin going for awhile to get the baby dropped down in place before we could break the water. Her concern was that if she broke it while he was still up in there too far that he would come down on the cord and then we’d end up in an emergency situation.

We walked around the halls for awhile, trying to keep the contractions productive.  We walked so many laps, and our LD nurse thought it was so funny because she would watch the monitor that showed her my contractions and she couldn’t believe I was still walking.  Apparently they were registering quite large on her monitor, but I was able to walk through them for quite awhile.  She commented as we walked another lap past her station, “Do you not feel that?!”   I also rolled around on the birthing ball for awhile to try and coax the baby down into the proper position. That seemed to work pretty well, because not much after that, Kim came back to check on me again and said that he had finally come down into a great position and we were ready to break my water. So at noon, after a few hours of very mild and totally manageable contractions, Kim broke my water and that's when the fun got started.

Almost immediately my contractions started to pick up in intensity and speed. They made me stay in bed for about an hour to keep a close eye on my blood pressure and the baby’s heart rate. I did my deep breathing and did really well with getting through each contraction. They had to turn down the Pitocin a few times to slow the contractions down a little because they were coming right on top of each other. At around 1:00 they finally allowed me to get out of bed and they filled up the whirlpool bathtub so I could lie back and relax away some of the contraction pain.

The bathtub helped my pain a lot and I continued to relax in the tub for about an hour. Right before 2:00 I told Kim that the pain was changing and that I was pretty sure it was time to get out of the tub and back into the bed. I got light-headed and needed to rest after one final contraction, and then I tried to get up. As soon as I stood up in the tub, the next contraction started and I was immediately sure that standing up had been a mistake. I knelt back down in the tub and Kim told me to stay right there while she went to round up some gloves, because she thought I might have the baby right there in the tub. When the contraction finally passed, Kim told John to grab my other arm and they were going to rush me back to the bed. They threw a blanket around my shoulders and rushed me as quickly as they could across the room. Good thing they did because as soon as I got back into the bed the next contraction started. Kim told John to go ahead and put some gloves on because she was going to let him do a little more than just cutting the cord, but about that time she went to check me and see how dilated I was and found instead that this baby was already on his way out. She told John to push the orange button to get the nurses in the room and they immediately rushed in. On the next contraction Kim told me I could push slowly, so I pushed slowly and his head came right out.  Kim yelled a quick, “Okay, stop for just a minute, we have a little problem.”  The problem was that the umbilical cord was wrapped TWICE around the baby’s neck!  His heart rate had been strong and steady all day, so that was completely unexpected.  Once she moved the cord from his neck she told me I could push again. I gave one more push, and at 2:04 pm Thomas Richard quickly entered the world. They immediately put him on my tummy and the first thing I noticed were his huge Hobbit-like feet!  He had good strong lungs and used them for quite awhile as they got him cleaned up, but he relaxed quite quickly after they gave him back to me.  I was immediately in love with him.  The End.

 

Fresh out of the oven!

 

Meeting our little prince.

 

Tiny fingers holding Daddy's finger.

 

Angry about his first bath.

 

First full day home.

Rafiki's Wisdom



My Grandma Rose passed away a little over two weeks ago, and several people have commented to me that I'm holding up well, etc.  I've been watching old home movies of her and the rest of our huge family.  I've been telling the kids stories about her.  I think about her all the time.  Those are things that bring me comfort.  Those are things that help me get through the pain of the loss.  We all grieve differently, and we even mourn each individual loss differently.  The way I mourn the loss of my grandma may not be the same way I will mourn the loss of a parent in the future, or the loss of one of my children or my spouse.  And that's okay.  The relationships we form with others are all different, therefore, the way we mourn their loss will be different.  Know what I mean?  Anyway....

 

I'll let you in on a little secret that I learned a long time ago.  And that secret is that Rafiki was right.  He knew what was up.

 

 

In the clip above from the Lion King, Simba has finally come to the realization that he needs to go back home, deal with his past, and take his rightful place as king to save his kingdom from his evil Uncle Scar.  Simba is afraid to go back home because of the circumstances surrounding his departure, and he also knows that his past is painful.  Rafiki tells him the most important lesson of the movie, in my opinion: "Oh yes, the past can hurt.  But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or learn from it."

 

It's the same with any loss, I think.  Whether that is the loss of a spouse through divorce, the loss of a loved one through death, or maybe even the loss of a home to a fire.  We all have a choice to make.  We can either run from the situation, or we can face it head on, embrace the pain and grief, and learn from it.

 

It has been 11 years since my ex-husband asked me for a divorce.  I learned very quickly during that next 6 months that I could work 14 hours a day, come home and drink a few bottles of hard liquor each week, and live life by my own rules, but in the end that wasn't going to get me any closer to moving on from the pain and getting to the other side.  In the end it took moving 500 miles away, learning to live without medicating myself with booze, and learning to hand it all over to God to help me get through it. 

 

I live in Iowa, so we see a lot of corn fields around here.  If the pain of my divorce were a huge corn field in front of me at that time, you would have seen me spending a lot of that first year trying to walk around the perimeter of that field, trying to get AROUND the pain and not think about it.  When I finally learned to hand it over to God, he took my hand and helped me walk THROUGH the corn field to get to the other side.  And let me tell you, it was much quicker to get to the other side by walking through the pain than by trying to dance around it. 

 

I think the same thing applies to dealing with grief.  We can try to push it to the back of our minds, we can try to avoid it, we can try to not think about the person we have lost....or we can embrace the memories, we can acknowledge the pain and the loss, we can recognize that it is going to take time to heal from it, and be okay with that.  Life is best walked through one step at a time.  Let's not try to rush through the hard stuff.  God works through our pain and our difficult situations.  It is during these times that we are strengthened and changed like iron in a fire.  Let God take your hand and lead you THROUGH that corn field.  He has the map.  He has promised He will never leave us or forsake us.  He is a God who keeps his word.  Some of the best prizes are on the other side of that corn field.  You just have to make the choice to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  It will get better.  I promise.

Talent Show Tryouts

Amelia came home two days ago and told us that she had signed up for the talent show tryouts.  I was a little surprised since she had known about it for a few weeks and had never said anything about being interested.  I was also a little irritated because it meant that we had two days to figure out what she was going to do in two days!  She had no idea what song she was going to use or have any ideas for a routine, all she knew was she wanted to dance.  Which is pretty much par for the course for Amelia.  She rarely has a plan, she just wants to jump in and do it.  Sometimes it works for her, but a lot of the time it ends up being a source of frustration for her when things don't go the way she expected.

 

So finally last night she decided that she wanted to dance to "Good Morning" by Mandisa.  I made her show me her dance, which was all completely improvised, of course.  I downloaded the song and burned it onto a cd for her, took her to school, and hoped for the best.

 

The last thing I said to her before she left the van was "Don't lose that CD."  What happened?  She lost the CD.  Of course.  And she forgot about the audition, so when I got to the school she was standing outside waiting for me.  I reminded her of the audition and she was like, "Oh yeah!"  Then I asked where the CD was and she said it was in her locker.  It wasn't.  We looked all over the place for the first 15 minutes of auditions and never did find it.  God bless Miss Sand, her music teacher, for being so sweet and saying, "What's the song name?  Okay, no problem, I'll just go download it!"

 

Amelia had said while we were looking for the CD, "I don't think I want to do this anymore.  I think I just want to watch the auditions."  I was starting to get really frustrated by that point, but Miss Sand talked her into going ahead and auditioning.  After a few more acts had auditioned, Miss Sand asked who was next and Amelia raised her hand.  She got up, walked confidently to the middle of the gymnasium, and did her thing.  I'm so proud of her for following through, even though she was unsure whether or not she really wanted to.  We won't know until after Spring Break if she made it to the actual talent show, but kudos to her for having the courage to stand up and dance in front of a panel of teachers and several students.

 

Here's a clip of her routine.  Thomas clapped to the beat, Lydia wiggled her booty and tried to crawl out to dance with her sister, and Mommy choked back tears with a big smile on her face.

 

Ash Wednesday Mass

Oh boy, holy days are always so much fun with 3 young kids!  I must say, in the almost 2 years that we've been attending Mass, this ranked as our second worst behaved Mass, second only to Christmas Eve Mass last year.  *SIGH*

Part of the trouble was a busy day all day today.  We had school drop off at 8:00 am as usual, then back home briefly for Mommy to take a shower and get ready, feed the baby, then get coats back on and out the door by 9:30 to get to Davenport (in the blowing snow) for Lydia's well-child checkup.  No shots, Praise God!  Our poor doctor was over booked and running behind, so we saw her about 30 minutes later than our scheduled appointment time.  No big deal, but Thomas was NOT willing to behave.  At the end of the otherwise uneventful appointment he decided to grab a handful of Lydia's hair in front of the doctor, who was like, WTH?  I know, me too.  Seriously, you think that's acceptable, kid?  Finally got out of there around noon.  Head to Sam's Club to pick up dishwasher soap, only to find that I had to renew the membership to the tune of $40+.  Drove over to McD's in hopes that they had the Fish Bites that they had during Lent last year.  No such luck.  I HATE the fish sandwich, probably because I hate tartar sauce.  Gag.  So we got on the road and ended up stopping at the Subway in the complex where Nana works, and got to hopefully brighten her day.  Should have kept driving since both kids were asleep when I pulled into the parking lot, but since it was already 1:30 I was pretty hungry.

Got home about 2:30, let Nana's dumb dogs out, picked up Amelia from school, etc.  Lydia stayed asleep for 45 minutes when we got home (another Praise God!).  Thomas wouldn't take his nap then. Amelia wouldn't settle down when we got home.  By the time John got home, I was done.

At supper, Thomas didn't want to eat his food.  Again.  After supper, we were all already fed up with each other.  Then it was time for Mass!  *SIGH*

Normally, Mass goes pretty smoothly.  Until it's a holy day and/or some time that's out of the ordinary for them.  Then all Hell breaks loose.

Mass started at 6:30.  I had hoped to leave the house at 6:00 pm.  We left the house at 6:18.  To head to church 7 minutes away.  There wasn't a single parking place left in the parking lot, unless you count the 2 spots where people had parked in the middle of 2 places.  John dropped us off at the door and went to park the car.

I took the crazy kids into church and immediately found that there was going to be nowhere to sit in the sanctuary.  I felt someone touch my shoulder, and turned just in time to hear Father Jacob telling me that there was room in the Sacristy and the side Chapel.  I said I thought it looked like people were heading up to the Choir Loft and he said, "Yes, there is room up there too, feel free to head up there.  I think of our few options, it really was our best option.  The Sacristy and the side Chapel are closed off from the main sanctuary, so the kids wouldn't have been able to see at all.  At least in the Loft they could see something.

We headed up and I got the kids settled just in time for the procession to start and for me to ask a friend to keep an eye on the kids for a moment so I could find John.  I got downstairs just as John was coming in, so that was good.  We hurried upstairs and the kids immediately started their whining over being unable to see since we were about 15 feet back from the edge of the loft and there were people seated in front of us.  When it got to the "let us call to mind our sins" part, I was whole-heartedly offering my "Lord have mercy" in response.

A few minutes in I noticed that there was some room left at the front of the Loft, so I suggested to John that I take the kids down to the kneeler there so they could see what was going on and he could come down closer to sit with our friend and hold Lydia, and we could give our seats to some of the families standing in the Loft.  In theory this should have worked out well.

In reality, it was a nightmare.  I heard about 3 words of the homily.  I couldn't tell you what any of the readings said.  I think I heard a few of the Prayers of the People.  I spent the majority of the time reminding the kids to NOT lean over the wall, NOT to talk in full voice, STOP complaining about who is standing where, NO you are NOT going to stand over there, OMG if I have to tell you ONE MORE TIME to STOP doing that, you are going to wish you hadn't been born.....  Yeah.  It was one of THOSE Masses.

Thomas was mad because he was messing around in one spot and had to stand closer to me, so he spent the next 20 minutes telling me he wanted to stand in "my old spot."  Amelia threw a fit when I wouldn't let her have a hymnal because she was going to drop it over the wall, and the song was OVER ANYWAY!  Thomas just all around didn't want to listen or behave and staged a wrestling match with me.  John had the easy job of holding the baby.  I was jealous.

After receiving our ashes, Thomas started acting up so much again I had to remove him to the bathroom, which was awesome since it involved pretty much dragging him down the steep spiral stairs from the Choir Loft to the narthex and on down another steep flight of stairs to the basement bathroom.  By that point he was lucky there were six people in the bathroom because I was about to knock his damn head off his shoulders.  We arrived back in the Loft just in time to hear the last few words of the Consecration.  Needless to say, I was not in the best state of mind to receive Communion, but damn did I need Jesus.

About that time Lydia decided she needed to eat, so we traded spots and I only had to wrestle a hungry baby who kept trying to pull my shirt up to my chin so everyone within 20 feet could see my chest.  She at least settled down enough to let me receive, then resumed her greedy eating.

So I just finished my second glass of Moscato, and am finally enjoying a quiet moment where everyone in the house is asleep.  Here's hoping the rest of Lent goes better than this!

Amelia Jean's Birth Story

This is the second in a series of posts of important days in my life and/or the life of our family.  Some days are so important, you don't want to forget them!  This post has rolling around my head for six years, ever since Amelia Jean entered the world.  It's high time I finally put it to print.

John and I got married in August of 2005 and decided before we were married that we would like to be married for about a year before we actively tried to get pregnant.  We had only dated for 6 months before we got married so we wanted to enjoy that honeymoon time as a couple and get to know each other better before we brought a child into the world. 

As the year passed, I was getting antsy to get started!  I had already waited for so many years to find the man I would spend my life with and start a family with.  Why did I need to wait any longer?!  John wasn't opposed to having children by any means, and would have still been thrilled if we had found out during that year that we were pregnant, he just wanted us to have a little time with just us and without the responsibility that comes with little ones.

I think he got tired of me asking and we decided to go ahead and start actively trying to get pregnant in July 2006.  I broke out the fertility monitor and we started tracking my cycle to see when we would be most likely to conceive.  Over the next four months we tracked my cycle, went on a wonderful first anniversary vacation to Maui, got settled into our new house, and I became a little frustrated after a few months went by with no luck.  I didn't feel like we had any fertility issues, I was just getting impatient.

Finally that October, something seemed different.  I was still tracking my fertility daily with my monitor and noticed that it really seemed like this was a long cycle.  I had a few pregnancy tests on hand since we were trying to conceive, so I thought, "What the heck, I might as well take a test just to see."  I peed on the stick, tossed it on the counter, and went to drink my coffee and essentially forget about the stupid test. 

I ate some breakfast, drank my coffee on the back deck while the sun rose over the river, and tried not to think about the test that was most likely turning negative while I sat there.  I had taken so many tests in the past that had all been negative, why would this time be any different?  I got dressed for work, put my shoes on, and decided I had killed enough time I might as well go brush my teeth and face down the test.  I stomped into the bathroom, snatched the stick off of the counter, and felt my stomach flip as I saw the plus sign.  Positive.  Holy crap, the test was positive!  I was pregnant!

I stared at it for several minutes, saying to myself, "OH MY GOSH!!!!  I'M PREGNANT!!!  OH MY GOSH!!!"  I think the dogs thought I was pretty silly talking to myself and grinning like a fool.

By that point I was starting to run a little late.  I rushed out the door to head to work which was thank goodness only a 5 minute drive.  Had it been much farther, I may have wrecked my car in the excitement.  Since John and I worked at the same place I often saw him on my way into work.  I didn't have to be at work until 8:00 am each day, but he had to be there at 5:00 am, so he would often meet me as I walked in and say hi.  As I walked in that day he and a co-worker were working on a project so I just stopped and said hi to them and made my way to my office with a huge smile on my face and a spring in my step.  I didn't want to tell him at work, so I was going to wait and tell him when we got home.

Over my lunch hour that day I went home again and took another test because I honestly didn't believe that the other one was right and I didn't want to make a fool of myself.  So I went home, peed on another stick, and watched as it immediately turned positive.  Well, that settled that!  I went to Wal-Mart and bought a card to write John a special message.

I went back to work and tried to focus on my work for the rest of the day, but I wasn't very successful at it.  When I got home that day John was home relaxing and I told him I had an early birthday present for him (his birthday is in November).  I handed him the card and a little box.  He opened the card and read my message, opened the box which contained the positive pregnancy test, and sat there quietly for a minute.  He finally looked at me and said, "Are you sure?"  I laughed and said, "Uh yeah, I took two tests and they came out pretty brightly positive!"  He was nervous and surprised and I think a little excited.  I was excited the next three days, then it hit me and I became the nervous one!

I made my first appointments with the OB office and started my prenatal care.  Every visit was so exciting.  John came with me to almost every appointment.  He was with me at my 12 week check-up when the midwife was struggling to find the baby’s heartbeat and sent us for an ultrasound.  We were both nervous as we entered the ultrasound room, but were relieved when the technician took measurements and let us know that the due date we had been given was two weeks off and we were really only 10 weeks along. 

The pregnancy flowed along smoothly and uneventfully until the 28 week checkup and glucose tolerance test.  It was then that I learned I had gestational diabetes.  I left the office that day with a referral to the diabetic clinic for nutrition counseling and a knot in my stomach.  I was nervous because I didn’t know anything about gestational diabetes and I was pretty nervous about the whole thing.

Somewhere around 7 months, I think.

The clinic was great and got me set up for a diabetic diet and gave me a whole folder full of information.  I had to check my glucose levels 4 times a day and record the information for my doctor’s office.  I was able to control my levels for with diet for another month or so and then I had to use a pill to help me control it for the remainder of the pregnancy.  At 32 weeks I had to start going twice a week for ultrasounds and non-stress tests (NST’s).  We have a whole album of ultrasound pictures of Amelia.

I was told after the diabetic diagnosis that I would have to be induced at 39 weeks if the baby didn’t come on her own.  It was never really explained to me why, so I was confused about it and a little nervous about what to expect.  At my last 38 week appointment they scheduled my induction for the following Monday, June 25.  The midwife checked me for dilation and I think I was a 1 or 2 cm, so she asked if I would like her to strip my membranes to see if that helped me to dilate and efface more.  Sure, why not?  Whoa.  I hope I never have to experience that again!

I went home and spent the weekend freaking out, cleaning like a crazy woman, freaking out some more, and wondering what was going to happen on Monday.

On Monday, June 25, after a night of being unable to sleep, we woke at 5:00 am to get ready for the hospital.  It was a warm morning, but I remember shivering all the way up to the hospital from the air conditioner and the nerves.  I must have looked like a deer in headlights when I walked into the hospital.  I sure felt like one. 

The receptionist checked us in and sent us up to L&D for the induction.  We met a nurse who directed us to our room, sent me to the bathroom with a gown and a cup and instructions to pee in the cup and put on the gown.  She told us that Beth, our midwife, would be arriving a little later after her daughter’s swim lessons.  She asked about 1000 questions, most of which I’m pretty sure had to have already been in my chart or on my preregistration.  After finally getting all the questions out of the way, we waited for a short time and Beth arrived.  She checked me over and said that I had dilated a little more, to about 3 cm.  We decided that we preferred trying breaking the water and letting me labor on my own for a little while to see if my body would take over and not need the Pitocin that was sure to cause horrendous contractions.  Beth agreed that we could do that, so she broke my water and allowed me to walk the halls for the next several hours.

Last pregnant picture!

The bump.

After they broke my water.  That face says, "Whoa, this is a horrible sensation!"

At noon I received a lovely lunch of popsicles, chicken broth, and juice.  Mmm, clear liquid diet.  Beth came back about 1:00 to check me and said that I had dilated to 4 cm and had not effaced any more.  She requested that we start the Pitocin so we could get me into active labor, and I agreed to her suggestion.  The IV was placed and they started pumping the dastardly drug into me and told me to lie back and rest because it would most likely be a long night.  Ha.  Little did we know.

At 1:30 I started feeling contractions pick up a little bit.  They didn’t feel like Braxton Hicks contractions anymore.  The nurse came in briefly and turned up the Pitocin a notch.  At 1:45 I started to notice that things were getting significantly more active.  At 2:00 the nurse came back to check the monitor and kick the Pitocin up one more notch and saw that I was definitely in active labor.  They had only had to turn the Pitocin up to a 6.  If I remember right, the highest they can turn it up is like 30, so they were barely giving me anything and my body was definitely responding!

I decided to get out of bed because lying there was getting so uncomfortable and I felt like I was tensing up a lot, making the pain even worse.  I had decided during pregnancy that I wanted to try and labor naturally if at all possible, so I wanted to get comfortable somehow.  I spent some time sitting on the birthing ball, and then some time sitting in the recliner.  Beth came in about 2:30 to check on me and I told her that the devil himself must have made this drug.  Contractions were coming harder all the time and I was getting quite uncomfortable.  She asked me if I was interested in pain relief and I told her all I knew was that I didn’t want an epidural.  She told me she could give me some other options but I might want to wait a little longer until I was further dilated because the drugs wouldn’t last very long and a second dose was usually not as effective.  I agreed to wait since I didn’t want to end up with an epidural.  She drew me a hot bath and let me soak in the whirlpool tub for pain relief and it was amazing.

I got in the tub around 3:00 and at 3:30 told John that I wanted him to call my mom and tell her to come up when she got off work.  I had told her not come until she was called because I didn’t want anyone but John in the room with me.  At 3:30 though, in the midst of contractions and scared to death, I wanted my mommy. 

I sat in the tub for over an hour I think.  Time was pretty irrelevant at that point.  Beth suggested that I get out and try some position changes and perhaps the birthing ball again to see if that produced any changes.  It must have been about 4:00 by that point, I’m not sure.  I remember spending some time rolling around on the ball and feeling a little relief.  About 5:30 or so John started to get hungry so he decided he would just run up to the vending machine on our floor and grab a snack.  He didn’t want to head to the cafeteria.  It’s a really good thing he made that decision.

After John walked out the door I had a contraction that was a little worse than the last one.  Shortly thereafter I had another contraction that was significantly worse.  It was so weird to go from normal contraction one minute to HOLYCRAPWHATISGOINGON contraction a minute later.  I had several more contractions while John was getting his candy bar and pop.  That was about the time that I started to wonder where the hell this vending machine was.  What was taking so long???  I was starting to get SO UNCOMFORTABLE and where the heck was he?!  He finally arrived back at the room (he was probably only gone for 5 minutes) and I told him, “I don’t know what is going on, but I am so uncomfortable now!  Please get Beth, I need drugs!” 

Before he could even leave the room, Beth came to the doorway.  She had heard me moaning through the contractions from the hallway and decided to check in.  She kindly waited until I had finished my contraction and then asked me how I was feeling.  I told her that the pain was getting more intense.  She asked if I wanted to discuss pain relief at that time.  I said, “YES!”  We decided that she would check me to see how far I was dilated and that would help us to know what drugs they could offer me.

It took me two contractions to get back into the bed, which I was leaning against while on the birthing ball.  The contractions seemed to be coming right on top of each other at that point, and the Pitocin had been turned off for quite some time by then.  It turns out they WERE right on top of each other.  I didn’t realize it but I was in transition.

Beth checked my cervix and said, “Oh Tracie!  You are at 10 cm!  There’s no time for drugs now, this baby is going to be coming out any time!”  I said, “Well….then let’s do this!”

She called in the labor nurses and they all started preparing the room.  I was lying on the bed and Beth, who was across the room, said, “Okay Tracie, on the next contraction you can start pushing with it.”  The funniest thing was looking around the room and noticing that there was NOBODY standing anywhere near the bed at that point and they are telling me I can push with the contraction.  I thought to myself, “Shouldn’t somebody be down there to catch this baby?”  I must have thought she was going to just pop out any second.

I started pushing sometime around 5:45 if I remember correctly.  I pushed and I pushed in a few different positions, some more effectively than others.  At one point the fetal monitor kept shifting and they kept losing the baby’s heartbeat, so they asked if I preferred that they put an internal monitor on the baby or if I preferred an episiotomy to help me push her out.  I requested the monitor because I really didn’t want the episiotomy! 

They placed the monitor, and I was determined to push that baby out without them cutting me!  John coached me through each push, until the last few pushes.  At that point he got very quiet because he was choking back tears as he saw her little head starting to appear.  Beth continued to talk me through the pushing and at 6:07 pm, after only 4 hours of active labor and about 20 minutes of pushing, Amelia Jean Ihle came screaming into the world. 

After they finally got the fetal monitor detached from her noggin.

I was exhausted.  John leaned down and gave me a kiss and told me how proud he was of me.  I told him I loved him too and that he should go check on the baby.  The nurses were checking her over and she was perfect.  She was 6 lbs 13 oz and 19 inches long.  And the internal fetal monitor was stuck in her hair!  It took them several minutes to get it out of her hair and get her wrapped up so they could finally hand her to me.

It was so awesome to hold her for the first time.  She looked so huge to me, which is silly because I know she was tiny.  It was more like, “How on earth did something that size fit in my stomach?!”  She nursed for a bit, John called all the relatives, my mom arrived shortly after she was born, and the rest of the night was a blur of nurses checking up on me and taking her blood sugar since she had low blood sugar at birth. 

You wouldn't think 4 hours would be so exhausting.

A family, at last.

We spent the requisite two nights in the hospital and went home after lunch time on Wednesday.  We arrived home to our welcoming party, Jasmine the Doberman who was 9 years old at the time, and Lollipop the Papillion who was 3 years old at the time.  They reacted exactly opposite of what we anticipated.  Jasmine sniffed the car seat and wanted nothing to do with the baby.  Lollipop sniffed the car seat and wouldn’t leave her side.  John and I looked at each other and said, “Well, now what do we do?  I can’t believe they let us bring her home!”  We didn’t have a clue what we were doing.  And I honestly still don’t think we know what we’re doing a lot of days!