Fire Baby - Matthew's birth story

This is actually a two part post of my experiences during the Santa Rosa fires - for part 1 click here. In this part we learn of new fires and (if you couldn't guess from the title) have a baby.

October 14

A new fire starting up to the east of us

The kids playing (unironically) on a fire truck at a nearby park.

This day was odd. One the one hand, this new fire that popped up truly made us think about evacuating for real, but on the other hand we had some of the best air quality out of the whole week because of the direction of the wind. So we stayed on alert but also at home. We also decided to go to vigil mass at our cathedral instead of our home parish - which turned out to be slightly fortuitous (I guess) as the next day our parish was in a mandatory evacuation zone.

October 15

No church means more Lego time

With no church to go to on Sunday morning (because, again, we had gone the night before, not because it burned down!) we were all feeling a little bit "off". We received an invite from a friend to head down south again - but neither Paul nor I were feeling up to the travel. And again, this turned out to be fortuitous as at about 2pm I started having sensations that I thought were gas pains. When I was still having them at 4pm I realized they weren't gas pains, but I still wasn't willing to call them "contractions" though they were about 30-45 seconds long and coming every 7-10 minutes. In any case, I called my midwife to let her know what was up and she conceded that I could very well be in early labor. I did not like this news, so she gave me some things I could do try and slow the labor train down: drink water, put my feet up (i.e. rest), take a bath or shower, have a glass of wine. (Ooo! A glass of wine? Yes, please! Only problem: I had no wine in the house. Enter Big Sister to the rescue! She brought over a lovely bottle of pinot gris.) I tried all of these things to no avail. By 8pm things were definitely picking up the pace and I was emotionally a wreck - texting friends and even acquaintances asking for prayers that baby boy would stay put. In my mind there were so many good reasons to not have a baby just then - things like:

• we had no diapers yet (but thanks to Amazon Prime, I would have them in 2 days)
• we had no bassinet/crib (yet)
• there was no birth center, and only 1 hospital in Santa Rosa still open
• oh, and fire with all its accompanying smoke

But I needed to call the midwife again and let her know things were not slowing down - so I did, and received a welcome piece of news: they decided to open up the birth center early for us. I broke down crying at this news - I was so grateful. It was funny - this whole pregnancy, whenever anyone asked where we would go for the birth I always responded "Lord willing, we'll go to the Birth Center." I'm so glad the Lord was willing! But I knew it still wasn't time for us to head over to the center just yet. But at least when I hung up the phone a part of my heart and mind were at rest.

My sister, who was kind enough to supply the wine, went home but stayed on call and I went to bed. My previous labors have been 43 hours and 30ish hours, so I was sure I'd be in for a long night and wanted to get as much rest as I could. Rest wasn't in the cards though. As I laid there the contractions continued to come, but something was changing: I'd have 2 or 3 that I could handle just fine, but then I'd have a really big one where all I could do to cope was shake my leg (much like a dog's leg will spasm when it's dreaming - such an attractive picture, I know). After one such contraction, I received the words that would become my mantra for the rest of the labor, "Pass through". I don't know where these words came from, but they turned out to be a premonition of what I would really need to have happen, and I would repeat them over and over whenever a contraction came. This pattern of 2-3 "easy" contractions and 1 "big" contraction continued to build in intensity until I had one that knocked the wind out of me - and that's when I told Paul we needed to get to the Birth Center. This was about 10:30pm. So the midwife was called and the sister was called back and we got in the car.

Again, that 1 mile drive to the center was just the worst. I don't know how any laboring woman can stand to have a drive longer than 5 minutes to get to wherever they're birthing. Car rides are just the pits! We arrived at the same time as our midwife, who was fully decked out in scrubs and her N95. She checked me and I measured 5cm - which was both welcome and a bit disappointing. Welcome, because that meant I could be admitted, but disappointing because I thought for sure I'd be farther along. In any case, we made our way back to the birthing rooms, and because I had the choice, I chose to be in the same room where I had delivered both the wee girl and the little dude. Having that continuity was comforting and I needed all the comfort I could get.

When I labor, I like things to be dark, quiet and warm. Oh, and also new for this labor, I liked to have my barf bowl next to me at all times. So basically then, the things that I remember are the times when one of the "rules" were "violated". Like when I had to ask Paul 3 or 4 times for my bowl. I got so mad at him for taking it away, and then I got doubly mad at him for making me have to talk to him to get it back. I mean, after 2 labors with me he still can't read my mind?!? Sheesh, man.

(It wasn't actually this dark, but you get the idea. Turn up the volume to hear baby's heartbeat!)

Anyway, once the midwife checked me in and took my vitals, she and the student midwife left us to "work". I wanted to lie down on the bed, so I did and worked on saying my mantra and breathing through the contractions. But at some point, I couldn't even say my mantra anymore and that was when the midwives came back into the room. The student midwife was truly wonderful, very professional, always explaining exactly what she was doing - but because she was breaking my "quiet" rule I started to get really irritated. At one point, when I thought they were gone, I asked Paul, "Could you please tell the midwives not to talk to me?" not knowing that they were actually in the room. When I found that out later, it made me really glad that I had said what I did and not what I was thinking which was, "Can you tell her to shut up?" (That would have been awkward!)

At midnight, the midwives checked me again and this time I was fully dialated; so they offered to break my bag of waters, in the hopes of moving the labor along. But I refused - not because I wanted a repeat performance of the waterworks at little dude's birth - but because having my bag of waters broken for the wee girl's birth was something that I had always kinda regretted. So I said no and continued to have really painful contractions that didn't seem to do much of anything to get the baby out. The midwives suggested I sit on a birthing ball (a big NOPE), and then go sit on the toilet (another NOPE but it was a bit better than the ball). The birthing stool was brought out and that was somewhat helpful - but the big problem this time around was that while I could feel a whole lotta pain, I couldn't actually feel when I was doing an effective push. So I would push 3 or 4 times and on that last push the midwife would finally say, "There! Yes! Do another one just like that!" Except I didn't know what I was doing any different than the way that I had been pushing before, plus, I was so tired from those pushes that I needed to rest and wait for the next contraction. At which point, the cycle of ineffective pushes would start again.

I started to pace back and forth in the room, almost like a caged animal, and more than once I wondered if I was going to be able do this. When the midwives offered to break my bag of waters again at sometime around 1:30am, I said yes enthusiastically and almost frantically. Get this baby out!!

The relief I felt as the bag broke was wonderful, but short-lived. Very quickly we were back to painful contractions and ineffective pushes. I threw up once... then twice. As my midwife shared, "Some women vomit their babies out". And that had definitely been my experience. After the second time, I remember feeling somewhat encouraged because with my other labors the baby was delivered shortly after the second spew. But it was not to be. I just couldn't figure out how to effectively push this baby who seemed very unwilling to budge. Finally the midwife and I hit on a strategy that worked - as long as she had two fingers pressing on my cervix I could focus on where I needed to direct my energy and my pushes would be effective. Of course, now her fingers were in the way of the baby's head creating a ridiculous Catch-22 situation. "Pass through" indeed! But I was finally making some progress - some very slow and hard-won progress.

With my previous 2 labors, the work up to the pushing stage was long and arduous, but the actual pushing was only 30-45 minutes - jubilation! Once again, this was different: I pushed for about 3 hours and it was (dare I say it?) horrible. The pain was just getting worse and worse, and even though they told me baby was coming, I didn't feel it. Plus I was getting frantic and I remember crying out, "Can you just reach in and pull him out?!" (Though I don't remember an answer to that request.) And forget "working noises". This was an all-out fight to get this baby earth-side complete with Wonder Woman-esque battle cries.

I prefer this image over what was probably the reality.

When I finally got baby's head out I expected to feel the slip and slide of the rest of his body - but again - this was not to be. One of the midwives (either the student or the attending, I can't remember) exclaimed, "Sunny side up!" and the other said, "Just a few more pushes..." All I could think was, "MORE?! He's supposed to just slide out now!" Turns out "sunny side-up" is just a poor euphemism for "hard as hell". (Ok, no, it isn't but whatever.) Finally - finally - at 4:30am, all of baby's 19 inches came out and we welcomed Matthew Francis with cries of relief and joy.

When I met Matthew I was surprised by his dark hair, red skin, and cries. They were strong and MAD! I couldn't blame him, and in fact I wanted to tell him "Dude, the feeling's mutual," but then he opened his eyes and I was stunned by the clarity and intensity in them already! All I could think was, "He is a smart one!" The rest of the morning was quiet and uneventful, so at 8:30 we were discharged and ready to go home. Stepping outside the smoke in the sky made a sun as red as my little one when I first laid eyes on him.

October 16

Anniversary cards, still in the plastic! We'll put heartfelt messages
in them next year.

We brought our little "fire baby" home on our 9th wedding anniversary - our Matthew - truly a "gift of God" to us.

A Week in Pictures - October 9th - 16th (Part 1)

This ol' blog has been quiet as of late, I know. I seem to remember back at the beginning of this latest pregnancy making a statement about "getting back to writing" more often - and wow, that didn't happen! This pregnancy was definitely the most difficult of the 3 so far: the worst "morning" sickness, odd and transient food aversions, and the most uncomfortable.  That last one, by the way, is what I blame the lack of writing on: I couldn't sit at a desk or table for more than 15 minutes without inducing really bad "tightness" (for lack of a better word).  And then October came.

So much has happened this month, with the majority of that stuff happening in the one-week span from the 9th to the 16th. I've tried to be vague on this blog about where I live - being on the internet and all - but I can't talk about this particular week and remain vague since our town was all over the news that week. (Look at me still trying to remain non-descript!) So while I could factually tell you all the things, what I really want to do is share how they affected me. Because it both was and wasn't like how it was shared on CNN or BBC - at least not for us - and the last thing I want to do is participate in sensationalism.

To be sure, we were scared. So scared, that it took us nearly 4 days before we realized that we lived *across the street* from the emergency responders' Headquarters. They would not have made that place their headquarters if they were worried about it being burned down. Or at the very least, as my sister observed, if we see them packing up and heading out then that would be a very good sign that we should do the same. No need to frantically look at our phones every time a text message came in.

Which again, to be honest, I wasn't doing anyway. We all deal with crisis differently: some folks want to tune in to the local news source and be in the know at all times, and some want the tv/radio/phone to be off unless absolutely needed. Fortunately, in our home Paul landed in the former camp and I was part of the latter group. It was a good division of responsibilities. I was able to stay responsive to the family's needs and Paul was able to keep us informed/educated as needed.

I regret that maybe in some ways this made me make light of a situation that was truly dire for some. I hope those hurt will accept my apology for attempting to bring levity when a shoulder, tears and kleenex would have been more appropriate.

So, until I can pull my thoughts together, I thought I would rely on the "picture is worth a thousand words" addage... and hope that it doesn't communicate more than intended.

October 9

The view from our front door at 6am

We stayed home that day.

October 10

Photo: KITV news

I chose this picture for 2 reasons: first, this was the only picture I could find that showed the color of the sky all day on the 10th. Obviously, we stayed home. But the cooped up animals in the picture were much like our children on day 2 of staying inside. Both were clamoring to get out (of the smoke/house). What I liked to say was that on day 1 of being inside all day, my children played constructively, but on day 2 they played destructively. So by day 3 both animals and children got their wish (in case you were wondering).

October 11

Reminding ourselves of truth... one of the ways that I was grateful for a homeschool routine that we could keep while everything else was uncertain.

The park we escaped to on day 3

Not perfect air quality to the south, but certainly a lot better than where we were.

October 12

From our front door again. Escaped south for the day again.

Can I just say I love my neighbors? It's been a stressful week, and no, we're still not out of this, but if you can't laugh at yourself... Well, then it'll really be a long haul. Grateful for this community and how we're looking out for each other. ❤ #santarosastrong

A post shared by Sara Rooney (@rooney.sara) on Oct 12, 2017 at 8:50pm PDT

October 13

Who's got 4 thumbs and a face mask? This gal!

While at this appointment we discussed what would happen in the event I should go into labor while the Birth Center was closed - we all thought that would be extremely unlikely, as I was only at 37 weeks - but I thought it would still be prudent to ask. Bottom line: if I went into labor I would have to go to the only hospital that was still open, and only maybe would I get to have a midwife with me. Needless to say, this was not what I wanted to hear... but no worries, right? 37 weeks! We're fine...

It's not "participating in sensationalism" to split this into 2 posts, right? Hope so. Part 2 to come soon!

The Books Making Me Cry These Days - Library Love

First, thank you to all who left messages and sent notes of congrats about our new little one! It means so much to Paul and I to read your good wishes and encouragement. The first trimester was definitely a struggle, and I often told people during that time that I relied on their excitement about the pregnancy because I was feeling so yucky myself that I found it hard to muster up any feelings other than self-pity.

But of course, now I'm pregnant and feeling ALL the feels. This was made especially clear to me while at the library picking out stories and Maisy books to leave at the library bring home. The little dude brought me a book to read and the last page brought me to tears - and of course, brought him much confusion. So we've had the conversation, more than twice now, that "sometimes Mommy cries tears of joy." The wee girl is quite entertained by it all and tries to make the waterworks come on by demand: "Mommy, read this book now!" But you know, that's the lovely thing about hormones - you hardly get to control when/how they will effect you. So she doesn't often get her wish. (Ha ha, little one.) OK, on to the books!

Is Mommy?

This is the one that got me crying in the library. It's a simple book, asking children questions about their mommies: "Is Mommy tall or short?" And of course the children, being children, answer with all the least flattering choices. "Short!" "Boring!" "Old!"  But do you love your mommy? Resounding YES!! (Cue the tears.) The little dude loves this one for the audience participation.

The Baby Sister

So, you know who's on the shelf below Maisy? Tomie dePaola! I credit Read Aloud Revival to turning me onto him - or maybe reintroducing me to him, as I definitely remember reading some of his books when I was a kid. In any case, while the wee girl is perusing her selection of Maisy books, I glance through the TdP ones, and of course, this one caught my eye. It's an autobiographical story of Tomie welcoming his baby sister Maureen home, and the ending line could not be sweeter: "And Tommie was the happiest boy in the world." I love this one because it presents the arrival of a new sibling with joy and anticipation, rather than with trepidation of how things will change. Not that I don't think those stories have their place, but this one is just so comforting and feel good that both kids love it and will ask me to read it over and over.

Hello In There!

I picked this book up when I was pregnant with the little dude, so of course, as I read it to him I get all misty-eyed remembering how I used to read it to his sister when she was just about the same age. The illustrations show a little girl waiting and wondering about her new baby sibling, while her mother's tummy gets bigger and bigger with every turn of the page. But what makes it especially fun are the little flaps on the mommy's tummy that open to reveal the baby inside. It works great for the 2-4 year old range for that reason.

Olivia

OK, when I cried at the end of this one we were all baffled. It's a story about a pig! And has nothing to with expecting a baby sibling! Clearly, this was all hormones. But the energetic piglet just captured my heart, and her "I love you anyway too," hit me in just the same spot as all the kids loving their mommy in "Is Mommy?" (I guess that part of my heart must be especially tender from the repeated readings of that book.) Worth a checkout, especially if you have an energetic little who can "really wear people out."

It's been rather therapeutic to read so many books that let the "tears of joy" flow... so what books make you cry? Or what books might you recommend reading to little ones expecting a new sibling?