Ruth's birth story (only a year late!) part 2

Well, as it turned out, I said goodbye to Mom before I said hello to Ruth. They had exactly 2 weeks together, almost to the minute. Mom passed away around 2 a.m. on Wednesday January 7th and Ruth was born at 12:47 a.m. on Wednesday January 21st.

Now for Ruth's story...

The due date I was given was January 15th, so the entire pregnancy I told people my due date was January 22nd--I have a pretty good track record of going at least a week over (lucky me!). I went to my appointment with the midwife on the 20th with nothing much to report. She stripped my membranes in the hope that that would speed things up. I was also told that once my contractions started or my water broke I needed to head to the birthing center immediately. Trevor's labor/delivery was 3 1/2 hours start to finish, so they wanted to be sure I delivered at the center and not stuck in traffic in the car. :)

Around 4 that afternoon I felt the little *pop* of my water breaking, so told Stephen this was it! I got a couple of good contractions--the familiar water-breaks-everything-intensifies feeling, but then they stopped. It was nothing like the other babies--really powerful and then...nothing. However, not wanting to be needing to get to the birth center in rush hour traffic, I called my midwife and told her we were on our way. My good friend Judy Larsen came over to watch the boys (Elise came with us), and away we went!

Nothing much was happening on the way to the birth center, and nothing much happened for a couple of hours. However, we lived too far away and were too uncertain about how fast the baby would come, so we just stuck around. In retrospect, I wish we would've stayed home for 6 more hours, but we just didn't know. Contractions started picking up, but they just weren't strong enough to bring Ruth low enough for the midwife to break my amniotic sac (later we figured that there was a tear at the top of the sac--so my water did break at 4 p.m., it just didn't do any good...).

So I rested when I could, walked stairs, did lunges, squatted while Tasha held my belly with a towel, did hip rolls, cat pose, walked with a swaying motion...anything to get Ruth in the right position to put pressure on my cervix and make it dilate. I moaned and groaned and just didn't progress. It was very, very disheartening. 9 p.m. came and went, 10, 11...I was getting to the point that I didn't think I could go on with all the pain and fatigue and seemingly insignificant progress.

Then Martha talked with me about using nitrous oxide and I said YES GIVE IT TO ME NOW. I think I started it around midnight, when I was pretty certain that I would have to go to the hospital so I could get an epidural. But then I figured I was probably too far along for an epidural anyhow, so I might as well tough it out. I don't think my inner dialogue was very helpful, but Tasha and Stephen were so good in reminding me to focus and think positively and be calm. Think about your beautiful baby in your arms. You are a strong, powerful mama. You CAN do this.

(I couldn't help but think of the story my mom told of giving birth to Trevor--when she got to the hospital they asked her to rate her pain and she cheerfully said "9". She proceeded to go through all of her breathing techniques...only to be told that she was dilated to a 4. That's when she knew it wasn't going to be as easy as she had thought...)

I remember being SO tired. I couldn't focus very well because of the fatigue. I just wanted to be holding my baby with no more effort on my part. Having the nitrous was helpful, if for no other reason than it made me focus on when a contraction was coming, how long it would last and when I could feel it receding. Sometime during the last hour Ruth was finally engaged enough that they broke my water.

Towards the end of all my birthing times I lose all sense of time. I couldn't tell you how long I didn't think I could do it or how long I was in the tub or how long I was on nitrous or how long I pushed. I remember finding a comfortable position in the tub but then being told I needed to shift so that they could get to the baby. You want me to do WHAT?!?! I WILL NOT MOVE! Somehow they got me positioned so they could get to the oncoming baby and whooooosh! She was born! I rolled over in the water, a little hazy from the fatigue and wonder of the moment, and as it turns out, the loss of blood.

The next 20...30...longer? minutes are a big blur. There was something about needing to get the cord cut quickly (usually they wait until it stops pulsing), Stephen stepping away and letting the midwives get to me, him taking the baby, them having me deliver the placenta (or was that on the bed?), getting me out of the tub, but I couldn't support my weight and was wonderingly looking at all the blood in the water and Tasha saying, "Look at me, Claire. Look at my eyes. Don't look at the water. Claire: focus on me." Somehow they got me to the bed, but something was wrong.

Stephen brought Ruth over to me, but I was too weak to hold her, so he just kept her near me. Elise was there and got to witness the birth, but in all the hustle and bustle to care for me she kept out of the way. I think Stephen gave Ruth to her so he could help with me. Martha was doing something to me down below, and it HURT. The nurse and Tasha were helping her and me...they gave me more nitrous to help manage the pain of pulling and opening and scraping, and then sewing me all up from the pretty serious tearing.

I was still so loopy--I couldn't focus on anything--but remember snuggling and nuzzling and nursing Ruth. Then blessed sleep! Ruth was in the middle of the bed and we slept and slept. Every so often the nurse would check our vitals, and then brought us fresh homemade bread with butter and honey. They were very anxious for me to eat--I think I gave them a pretty good scare, but everything is hazy in my memory.

Turns out that when I delivered the placenta not all of it came out, so that was what the opening and pulling was about--they didn't want me to die, so had to get it out, which is not comfortable. Stephen said that he stepped back--he could tell something was wrong so he just stayed out of the way. He and Elise had some pretty good bonding time with Ruth while I was out of it.

I think we went home around 6:30 a.m., straight to bed for me for 24 hours. The boys were beyond excited to meet Ruth. Stephen took a week off work, then his parents flew in for a week or so. A day after they left my sister-in-law came to help out for another week. I allowed myself to be taken care of (possibly the first time in my life), and focused on taking care of Ruth and letting myself heal--both from her birth and my mom's death. Turns out Ruth's birth recovery was my best yet!

Meeting Ruth Ann, just hours old!

Ruth was a little bit jaundiced, so spent some quality time in the sun

I was really worried that I would slip into postpartum depression after having Ruth--I've experienced baby blues, and was worried that that history in addition to my mom's passing would send me to a dark place. I even visited with a therapist before Ruth was born. But Ruth has been salve to my soul. She is sunshine on my dark days. A reason to laugh and smile. Far from bringing sadness and depression she has brought joy and light. When she was so tiny I loved watching her watch...nothing--I figured that Grandma and Mom were there, cooing and loving on her. I think they are still a huge part of her life--as they are in mine.

Ruth's birth story (only a year late!) part 1

Baby #6. Our little Ruth Ann.

Let me start 6 years ago, because that was when I knew that Ruth was going to be joining our family. I wrote about it a little bit in Lincoln's birth story, but it is really Ruth's story...

We had just moved to Provo and Stephen had started the MBA program at BYU. It was a Sunday afternoon; Stephen was upstairs playing with the 3 (at the time) kiddos and I was downstairs reading my scriptures. Out of nowhere I had the thought that there was a little girl named Ruth waiting to come to our family. Okay, good with that. Then another thought that she was going to be born naturally. Again, I can do that. Then that it didn't need to be immediately, just be thinking about it. Okay, can do. And then "you should go tell Stephen."

Over a year later Lincoln was born - most assuredly not a girl. Two years later, along comes Trevor - again, not a girl. And then this pregnancy. In the days leading up to the ultrasound I kept wondering if this was our Ruth. I was excited to be having a baby either way, honestly and truly, because I knew eventually we would get our little girl. As soon as we saw our baby was a girl, Stephen and I looked at each other and knew it was our Ruth.

But now I'm getting ahead of myself, because there was another happening before I got pregnant as well. It's kind of a silly one, but made all the difference to us! Ready? We bought a second car. Funny, right? We've always been a one-car family. For a little while when Stephen and I were dating we each had our own car, but that was it. Thirteen years of one car. And the thing holding us back from having another baby was our 7-seater minivan + a very small student stipend = can't afford a bigger car.

Then my grandpa sent a very generous Christmas present and Stephen said, "why don't we get a second car?" Aaaaaaaah! Lights from heaven! If we had a second car we wouldn't need to buy a bigger car! And that meant...another baby! So we found a car, offered the guy what Grandpa had given us, and away we drove!

There was just one more thing we had to plan for before getting pregnant: the Nutcracker Ballet. We couldn't have a baby until after the ballet in December since both Stephen I serve on the Board of Directors. But after the ballet we would be ready! Stephen would hopefully have a job lined up and we'd be a few short months away from an income again.

Anyhow, the first trimester of pregnancy was rough. Not really any different than the other pregnancies, only it lasted a little longer. I pulled out my super power during this time: the ability to fall asleep any time, anywhere. Like while reading to the kids or singing to Trevor at nap time or sitting in the car waiting for an activity to be over or working on spelling with the older kids. Things were great until about week 35, when I started realizing that being pregnant at age 34 is quite a bit different than being pregnant at 21.

At 32-33 weeks we all flew to Oregon for a final goodbye visit/family reunion with my mom. It was wonderful and awful and physically and emotionally draining. So worth it, but so hard as well.

One of the absolute best moments of the trip was being in the temple together - Dad was sick, but Mom, Stephen, all my brothers and their wives were able to do sealings together and then go visit the Celestial Room and sit and talk and cry. We all knew Mom was on her way out, so being reminded of our temple covenants was especially meaningful.

I was just over 35 weeks pregnant when we had Nutcracker...that was a long and tiring week! By the end of show day I could literally barely walk. A Christmas tree excursion, two concerts (I accompany Mason and Sammy's Boys' Choir), and a Christmas Day later, I could finally start thinking about the baby...

Because Ruth is darling

Here's some proof:

Must. Have. Mango.

She loves to hang out in the bathroom with her brothers...funny thing is, once she is in the water herself she just stands up and screams until I take her out.

Christmas Eve fun

One of Stephen's colleagues at work invited us to take advantage of the empty business building atrium to make and fly paper airplanes on Christmas Eve. The kids burned some serious energy running up and down all those stairs!

Nativity 2016

This year we had some special visitors show up on Christmas Eve--Uncle Jeff and Aunt Missy! They drove out from Chicago to spend Jeff's medical school break with us. Even though they were pretty exhausted from the drive, they helped out as the inn keeper and his wife in our little Nativity...

Stephen has been a donkey for the last 13 years. The others get to switch characters, but he's been pigeon-holed into this role...

Jeff was a very convincing inn keeper--"No room! Move along!" But then his kind side kicked in and he showed the tired couple to his stable.

Trevor took his angel role very seriously. When he wasn't speaking, he was sitting with his hands clasped in a very angelic manner. 

Our wise guys, on the other hand, were a leetle bit nuts-o.

Merry Christmas!!