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 blessing day

Today our little Ruth Ann was blessed in church. We believe that because of the covenants we have made with God that our family relationships will last beyond death - forever and ever. That same hope is what has made my mom's passing bearable.

Isn't she a beauty?!

One more thing

I've been pondering what it means to be a mother lately, maybe because I know this time won't last forever, and also because Trevor is going to be the last baby for awhile. Some days (most days) it seems all I do is feed children, clean up and change diapers.

This last Monday was a great day. I did my Jillian workout, showered, had school with the kids, we ate lunch together, I put Lincoln down for a nap, cleaned up lunch, had the older kids go downstairs for quiet time, nursed Trevor and laid him down. I got out my list of things to accomplish during the week and everything I would need to do a couple of them--my computer, planner, insurance documents, phone numbers, etc. I grabbed my Book of Mormon and read that first, because I've learned that if I don't read first, I usually don't get back to it.

I finish reading and start in on insurance. What a headache! Just when I got to the point of almost understanding some of the charges, Trevor woke up. I went in and nursed him and laid beside him for a few minutes to help him sleep. Then back to insurance. Then Trevor woke up again and I rocked him again. And back to insurance. After a few minutes I heard Lincoln waking up, and then all the kids came upstairs for a snack. And then Trevor woke up.

I was so frustrated with the insurance--trying to make sense of the charges as well as the fact that before I had Trevor I was in frequent contact with them to make sure that I was covered at the birthing center, and now they had denied almost every stinking charge!!! Grr.

So here I was in the middle of frustrating insurance when everyone needed to have a snack and wanted to talk to me. I tried to do both, and continued getting more frustrated--trying to focus on something annoying anyhow with 4 sweet children clamoring for my attention doesn't bring out the best in me.

Amid this happy ruckus Stephen called. He told me all about his very successful day (which I totally credit to the faith of our mothers who were praying for him--and me) and then asked how I was doing. HA! I told him how I had been trying to get the insurance situation taken care of but kept getting derailed by the needs of our kids. Trevor not sleeping well. Needing to clean up. Lincoln waking up. The kids needing a snack. As I was talking to him Lincoln finished eating and needed to be taken to the sink so I could wash him up. Here's what I said to Stephen (read with tears in your voice):

"Lincoln needs to be washed now. There is always one more thing that I have to do!"

And my very sage husband replied:

"It's not just one more thing, it's the thing."

I stopped in my tracks. That's right! I don't just wash faces and read books and nurse my baby to get to something else. The goal doesn't need to somewhere other than where I am. As I'm told in Ecclesiastes, there is a time for everything. Sooner than I can imagine my sweet babies will be grown.

So right now, I get to choose every day: am I going to make this a happy day or a grumpy day? Either way the day will pass. It's like when somebody spills the orange juice--it's spilled, that can't be changed--what hasn't been decided is how I am going to react. I can't change what has happened, but I can control how I respond. After all, it's not like they spilled the juice on purpose!

Having a baby is so good for me. Everything slows down. I see things in a different light. I remember the overwhelming love I had for each of my children when they were so small, and have more patience with them as they make mistakes now that they are bigger. I appreciate the stage they are in, even the annoying parts, because I know it will pass so quickly.

I realize that I can only do so much, and so I let the little, unimportant things go. So the older kids don't always make their beds; I'll live. Elise leaves her socks on the garage steps; I can kindly ask her to put them away. Mason can't stop talking long enough for me to answer his questions; he'll learn. Me getting upset or annoyed really doesn't accomplish anything except making me upset and annoyed. Who wants to be around someone like that? At the end of the day it's really not worth it.

One tender mercy from a loving father in heaven is that even when I don't get much sleep (TD has been congested and wakes up at night coughing and/or gasping for breath--pretty much freaks me out and keeps me awake) I'm not mad. Usually when I'm tired and/or hungry I get mean. I've been working on that for years (and years and years). But lately I don't get mad. I'm just tired. What a great blessing!! I like myself the same whether or not I'm tired, but I really don't like to be around me when I'm angry all the time. I imagine my kids like to be around me more when I'm just tired, too. :o)

I've been surprised at how relaxed I've become (for the most part--see above example...) ever since having Trevor. In general I've finally realized that I can't do everything right now, and happy day!, I'm fine with that! The thing now, for this time of my life, doesn't go far beyond the 6 people that make up my home.

And, oh, I'm so happy!!!

Helpful

Today a friend at ballet gave me 5 big garbage bags full of boys clothing, sizes 0-7. What a blessing! She had it all sorted by size and everything. How nice to be able to just sit down and go through one size at a time and take what I need and put back what I don't.

Yes. Well.

My kids have been very helpful lately (honestly and truly--like Mason making pancakes for everyone yesterday), and continued on in that vein tonight, by bringing in all the bags of clothing. What I didn't realize  they were doing was this:

Sigh. They cut open and dumped out every single bag of neatly sorted, folded clothing. And proceeded to jump on the pile. They were so proud of themselves for helping me so much! I didn't have the heart to scold them, they were so pleased with themselves. 

Well, Stephen is gone tonight; I guess I'll sort clothes on the floor and watch something...goodnight!

Oregon trip: The rest of the story...

Monday morning Lincoln woke up with a 103.4 fever. Great. I gave him some ibuprofen and he really perked up--he was running around and playing with Liza, giggling and not clinging to me! It was nice to have my baby back to normal-ish, even if it was medication-induced. By noon the medicine was wearing off, so I gave him some more and started thinking about going to urgent care after his nap.

Normally I'd just treat the fever and ride it out for a couple of days, but since we were flying home the next day I decided to take him in. Brett and Jeff gave him a blessing (oh, wonderful brothers!!) and Mom took the two of us to urgent care.

About an hour (and very fussy baby) later, we got in. When they took his temperature (103.7 at this point), the doctor came in immediately. The nurse gave him some Tylenol and re-checked his temp a bit later. It was going down. However, since there were no other symptoms other than a fever (ears & throat were fine, no rash, no runny nose...), they decided to draw some blood to find out if whatever it was was bacterial so I could get him on some antibiotics before we left to go home. Two nurses and two needles later, they sent us to the hospital lab for someone with more experience drawing blood from babies.

I write this like I was so calm during the entire episode. HA. I think I would have been fine if it hadn't been for all the waiting. Waiting in the lobby, waiting in the exam room...more of that, having to go to the hospital (where I hadn't been since Elise was born there!), waiting there...I was physically and emotionally drained. And hungry! So was Lincoln--we gave him some food in the car on the way to the hospital, and that really helped calm him down. Imagine that. After, oh, nearly 3 hours at urgent care my little guy was starving!!

At the hospital it took two more nurses and two more pokes before they struck blood. We could finally go home. Mom put Lincoln to bed--she could tell I was way too exhausted to deal with a crying baby--and he actually went down for her. Hallelujah!

About 45 minutes later we got a call from the urgent care doctor who said that preliminary test results came back that showed suspicions of a UTI, so could I bring Lincoln back to the clinic for a powerful antibiotic shot? YES, I could do that. Anything to help my little guy! So we dragged my poor baby out of bed and took him in for a big fat shot of antibiotics. And then had to wait again to make sure he didn't stop breathing as a reaction to the medication. Oy.

He didn't, and we were home by 10:15pm. Our adventure had lasted nearly 7 hours. NOT FUN.

His fever was gone the next day, and we went on our merry way. In Denver I got a call from the urgent care clinic saying that he, in fact, did not have a UTI, so don't give him the other prescription! It was probably something viral. Okay. I'm down with that.

So, in the end, Lincoln had some mystery sickness that involved a super-high fever...and nothing else. We'll never know if it was bacterial or viral, though that powerful shot of antibiotics might possibly have helped.

And now to wait for the bills...double oy.

He was great on both flights--slept from Denver to MSP. We were both happy and relieved to see Stephen drive up to pick us up and take us home. Home is Oregon, but home is also where my husband and kids are. It's good to be home.

If you made it through all of that, you deserve a medal. :o)

Grandma

Everything I do lately reminds me of my grandma. I was hard-boiling eggs the other day, and as I was peeling them, remembered how Grandma taught me that fresh eggs are harder to peel than older eggs. That is why she always bought her regular eggs at DairyMart, and her hard-boiling eggs somewhere else, or just let the eggs sit for a week before boiling them. When I was making deviled eggs I thought of her--she always made them for us.

I mopped the laundry room floor with my foot on a rag the other day--just like Grandma does.

I remember Grandma's kindness to children and am a better mother. She thinks my children are simply amazing, and that I am an amazing mother. I try to live up to her praise.

A couple of weeks ago I made her cinnamon rolls.

I think of her when I go to Costco.

Whenever I open my fridge I see my peaches, pears, applesauce, pickles, salsa, relish and chili sauce that I canned with Grandma. I have her favorite kind of filbert from the farm in there, too.

When I'm baking with Elise I remember how patient Grandma always was with me. How she would let me make the chocolate chip cookie dough and then put it on the trays for me, because I hated that part. One time she got a nifty little tool for me to use. How she always had a "kid knife"--that wasn't too sharp--for us to use. How she always let me help make fruit salad with pudding. Peeling carrots and eating the (clean) peelings.

Whenever I use a utensil I think of her--she bought me all my silverware. She even bought "ice cream" spoons like we used to steal from Grandpa.

When I fulfill my calling (compassionate service leader) I think of what she went through, and have an increased love for the sisters who are struggling with health concerns.

When I see my piano I remember her wanting to buy a keyboard and asking me to get a good one for her--she made me feel like an expert.

When I'm in the den and see my sewing machine I think of the hundreds of quilts she has sewn. My rainbow quilt when I was a little girl. My denim quilt she made for my first year of girl's camp. My t-shirt quilt she made for my high school graduation. The quilt she helped me make for Stephen when we got married. It's on my bed now, and just another reminder of Grandma's love.

I see Elise dressing up and remember playing dress-up with Grandma's old clothes. I see Elise playing with her dolls and see the doll clothes that Grandma made when my mom was a little girl, that have been passed on to Elise. I am so glad Elise shares Grandma's name!

I think of Elise's name, and of the history behind the Bellon family. I think of Lincoln's name and remember the stories Grandma told about her father.

When I teach my children I remember how Grandma was a teacher, and went to college against the wishes of so many in her small little town. She had the courage and will to do it.

My favorite cookbook has her and Grandpa's picture on the cover, and it is full of her favorite recipes. Like her potato salad. She always made several kinds of it--one with everything, one without onions, one without onions or celery.

Whenever I see a root beer can I think of how, once she found out that Stephen loves root beer, she always had her fridge stocked with it when we came to visit. Cheese sticks and juice boxes for the kids. Her candy jar by the Second Kitchen outside door. Organizing her kitchen drawers for her.

How she would always pay me way beyond generously. Making me take breaks after I'd been working for only an hour. How she would tell me I was such a good present wrapper. Even in December she had a little project for the kids to do--sorting quarters--anything to make them feel important.

When I'm downstairs reading books to the kids I see the books she gave me both when I was a little girl and that she has given me more recently--books she always had at her house when I would visit as a little girl. I bought the game Rack-O because I have such fond memories playing it at her house on Kings.

I see my globe in the living room and think of all the places she and Grandpa have traveled. Australia, Sweden, all over the US.

Grandma's life really wasn't about her. It was about loving and serving and taking care of others. And the beautiful thing is, it's who she really is. There is nothing fake about Grandma. She is genuinely loving and thoughtful and kind. She really does think I'm amazing. She really does think my kids are remarkable. Who could help but love her? I love her.

Someday

When Stephen and I took our family back to school, we really didn't need to make a lot of financial changes. Even when we were making money we always lived frugally. My main problem store was Target--I found things to build up the kids getting-bigger boxes, and would just buy them and not worry about going over budget. I'd frequently go over budget on food as well. Other than those things, I was pretty good about staying in budget.

The two years of the MBA program helped me reign in my spending--we simply didn't have any money to spare! So I didn't go to Target. That worked quite well. I still frequently went over my food budget--but was always SO proud of myself when I was under. I am still proud of myself when I am under at the end of the month! (Not this month...)

Anyhow, I was thinking today of when we make money again. I won't make a lot of changes in my spending habits, but there are a few things I will put money in the budget for. 

The first one is gifts. I would LOVE to give people gifts on special occasions--anniversaries, birthdays, weddings, moving into a new house, having a baby, or just because I am thinking about them. I don't mean annoying toys or dumb gifts, but good quality, thoughtful gifts. 

I'd love to give every new baby a soft quilt, made with quality material I can't afford right now. I'd love to give gift cards to the movies or a favorite restaurant, along with babysitting. I'd love to be able to afford to send flowers to someone new every month--to celebrate any of the things listed above. I'd love to give at least $100 to every couple who gets married and send high quality books to my nieces and nephews. 

The second is a larger house. I don't need lots of bedrooms or bathrooms, but I'd love to have spaces in my house large enough that I could entertain as many people as I wish any time of the year. I'd love to be able to provide delicious food that I can't now afford for large groups--fresh fruits and veggies, yummy dips and crackers and drinks.

There is a certain amount of freedom in having a little extra money--I could go out and buy a riding lawn mower (they are on clearance right now) for Stephen, or a rototiller for me. I could visit home a little more often by flying someone out here to drive back with me. When I found a great deal on clothing that we need, I could buy it right then.

Money can do so much good. I'd love to be able to pay a great babysitter what they are worth, and have them come over frequently so Stephen and I could have regular date nights, and go to the temple often. I'd love to give more in our fast offerings and be able to slip $50 to someone who really needs it. I'd love to give more money to LDS Humanitarian Aid and the Perpetual Education Fund. I'd love to dig a well or buy a goat for a woman in Africa. 

...

I'm not complaining. I have everything I need--and much that I want! I love my house, my kids are happy and healthy, my husband and I love what we are doing! Just because I can't afford big things doesn't mean I can't write a heart-felt note or deliver a loaf of fresh homemade bread. I can still throw parties and make friends, and pay that babysitter for my temple trip. I am richly blessed even though my offerings are small.

Some day we'll make money again; right now I am perfectly happy.

Blessings

Have you ever had a time when someone gave you a washer and dryer--and they lasted just long enough until you could afford to buy new ones?

Or your mom came to stay with you and bought all your groceries and took care of your kids and the house?

Or you got the exact amount of money you needed right when an unexpected expense came up?

Or your neighbor brought over 5 full bags of canned goods right when you decided you can't go to the store for the next month--twice?

Or someone sends you $20 right when there is something you really want, but can't get?

Or your friends bring you dinner 14 times after you've had your baby?

Or you've really needed church pants for your boys and your sister-in-law brings over a bag full? And not just worn-out hand-me-downs, but nice stuff?

I have.

XOXOXO

Do you ever feel so blessed?

Okay, Elise is how old? 7 1/2. That means she was born 7 1/2 years ago, right? Right. Guess what I got in the mail today? A reimbursement check from my health insurance from 7 1/2 years ago!

Here's another thing. Stephen and I have been keeping very strictly in our budget (it's kind of easy when there is no money :o), but had an unexpected brake-replacement cost today. I should have remembered that they needed to be replaced...but didn't, hence the unexpected part.

And here is where those things come together.

Reimbursement check: $231.32
Brake replacement cost: $228.98

Coincidence? I think not. Tender mercy? Yeah, pretty sure about that one.