Jameson these days

Combined with the hormonal rollercoaster and sleep deprivation that come hand-in-hand with having a baby, Jameson's "curiosity" and "determination" have made me feel like a full-on crazy person. At home, things are usually under control, but take that kid anywhere else, and he is a loony on the loose. Redecorating people's houses, dismembering plants, stealing other kids' bikes, kicking Blake in the face, screaming for juice, you name it.

My parents believe he is very smart. I hope this is true.

But it's not all bad. He has started to learn his favorite books and will "read" them to me. He likes to read me "That's Not My Monkey" and "Sleepy Baby." He also likes to line things up and count them. He counts to eight the quick way, pointing to each item he's counting, "one, two, eight." He is also learning the song "I Am A Child Of God," and his favorite line is "help me find the way." It's the one line he can bust out and have it sound recognizable.

Jameson is big into phones. He has all of our old cell phones stashed around the house. He'll hold them up like he's going to take a picture, and says "cheese!"

He likes watching the movie Cars. His favorite part is the beginning, when that desk lamp hops across the letters of the word Pixar and smashes down the I. He always points and yells excitedly to me, "light!"

He's into lights and trying to get Blake interested, too

His language skills in the past month have really increased. He regularly strings together two or three words to make simple phrases, making it possible to communicate with him when he isn't faking deaf so he can run away from me at the park. He mimics EVERYTHING. My favorite thing he says is "ugh! Dang it!"

Jameson still takes two naps a day. I use the term nap loosely, because sometimes his afternoon nap is mostly him jumping on his bed, squealing, for an hour straight.

After an hour or so of playing bounce castle in his crib

He is also really good at walking backwards and is still into spinning around. He has discovered climbing - chairs, tables, slides at the park, other kids' bikes. He likes to sing along with songs he hears. Yesterday at my brother's wedding, Tyler and Chelsey's sister, Vanessa, were singing a duet, and Jameson was trying to sing along loudly in an otherwise quiet room.

He is slowly getting more interested in interacting with Blake in non-violent ways. The other day I was feeding the baby, and Jameson sat next to us and softly rubbed Blake's hair. It was a sweet moment, and I'm hoping for more of these.

Don't you just love how floppy babies are?

Birth Stories

So monthly updates lasted um, not long. The past month, I have been in babyland, and I'm finally posting birth stories. I wrote Jameson's and saved it as a draft after he was born, but never posted it, so now I'm posting both. They're lengthy, just like the boys' gestation periods.

Jameson

Jameson wanted to soak a little longer than I thought was necessary, so we scheduled an induction on December 12, nine days past my December 3 due date. Since my doc didn't think that pitocin alone would be enough to kick things into gear, he asked me to come in to the hospital on Sunday night for some medicine so soften things up before laboring all day Monday with the use of pitocin, and possibly, a c-section.

I was a little nervous, because my mom and a couple of her sisters are c-section ladies out of necessity. I was worried that I would be pumped full of contraction-inducing drugs for 24 hours only to have a c-section later.

Well, on the Wednesday before induction I got a shot of energy somehow and decided to scour my entire house. Somewhere between scrubbing a bathtub and disassembling/hand washing/re-assembling the dining room light fixture (doesn't deserve to be called a chandelier), I started having contractions. I felt them in my back and radiating down my legs. It hurt to walk. I thought this might be "it." As luck would have it, we had our last O.B. appointment that evening and I thought "hey, maybe he'll examine me and exclaim, 'what are you doing here? You're at an 8! Run to the hospital! Run!'"

We went to our appointment and I was dilated a half a centimeter. and 60% effaced, just like I had been for three weeks.

I went home and proceeded to have hard, frequent contractions for the next three days. They were never close enough together or long enough for me to feel like I needed to go to the hospital, until Saturday night at about 11:30 when I downloaded the contraction timer app on my phone. Yes, there is an app for that. It showed that my contractions were averaging a minute long and five minutes apart - BINGO! Time to go!

I started getting nervous and contracting like crazy. I had to tell myself to calm down so I could finish packing my bag and take a shower while Mark had a snack and gathered up all the things we thought we'd need and load up the car.

We got to the hospital and they monitored me for an hour in a tiny triage room. I ate a popsicle and breathed through a bunch of contractions while watching Jameson's little heartbeat on the monitor. Since I didn't progress in that hour (I was dilated to a 1 at that point - a half centimeter's progress in four days was not making me feel great about what lie ahead). Since my doctor wasn't on call that night, they called one of his partners who told the nurse that it was their practice not to induce other peoples' patients and to give me a bunch of morphine and send me home till the previously agreed-upon time.

The nurse, who was so nice, gave me the drugs and told me "I'm pretty sure you'll be back before tonight."

I was worried about getting morphine and how it might affect the baby, but the nurse told us that all it would do was just make both of us relax. On the one hand, I didn't want to relax! I wanted to dilate! On the other, since I was going to be in the hospital all night the next night, I figured I might as well sleep while I could. She also told me not to get discouraged about slow progress and that the hardest labor your body does is getting to a 3.

By the time I got down to the car, I was seriously loopy. I could barely stay awake enough to get into bed and eat a piece of toast before sleeping off and on all day on Sunday. I won't lie - sleeping felt great.

My mom came over on Sunday evening before we went to the hospital and the morphine had worn off. I was feeling miserable. Every move I made, made me contract. The thought that I was definitely having a baby tomorrow at the latest did make things a little easier to handle. I ate a grilled cheese sandwich and we went to the hospital. I drank a real Coke from a glass bottle on the way to the hospital. I don't like real Coke, but the night before I saw it at the store and suddenly needed it.

By the time I was all suited up in my hospital garb and ready for my softening medicine, I had dilated to a three and was 80% effaced. I was so excited! I had done the hardest part on my own! My doctor was calling to check on me, but my nurse was busy trying to get an IV in me for about, oh, 45 minutes. (9 days later I still had a gnarly bruise. In fact, once I got my epidural, the IV site was the only part on me that hurt for hours.)

My doctor said that they should just monitor me throughout the night to see how I did - no drugs yet. Well except the epidural. My nurse and I were talking at 10:30pm about when I wanted my epidural, knowing that it could slow down labor. I wanted to wait a little. Then I got another contraction and I changed my mind really fast. By 11:00pm, it was in and I was feeling fantastic.

I slept off and on all night and kept progressing well. The only concern were small decelerations in Jameson's heart rate, and I was put on an oxygen mask, although my nurse didn't seem to intense about me wearing it. They also put an electronic monitor in his scalp to better monitor him.

My doctor came in at about 7:00am on Monday and I was at an 8 and totally effaced. He said that he had planned on going to do something else, but decided to stick around. At that point I finally believed that I was going to be able to have the baby. I had a painful spot in my right hip, so the anesthesiologist came and gave me an extra boost of medicine to get me through the last bit before pushing.

The extra shot combined with nerves made me shake like crazy. Mark had called my mom earlier that morning to let her know we were close, but he called her again to tell her I was going to start pushing very soon. A scrub tech came in and set up the table with all the instruments and a tub that I assume was used to catch my placenta and they turned on the big light.

I was kind of freaking out a little. The nurse came and taught me how to push. The doctor and my mom walked in at exactly the same time, and we were set to go.

Mark and my mom each held one of my legs while I pushed. At first, I couldn't feel it at all, but after a while, my epidural started wearing off and I could feel my contractions and wanted to push through them. It felt like a huge waste to be feeling the pain of a contraction without pushing.

A little while into it, my mom yelled, "he's got hair!" That made me excited. For some reason I thought it was awesome that my baby had hair, and it was really motivating.

Mark, my mom and the doctor kept telling me I was "almost there" and "so close." I finally told them to knock it off. If I had been that close for that long, we'd be done already. Other than that, I don't think I did or said anything mean to anyone, but I may have just forgotten and they are too nice to remind me.

In all, I pushed for about 90 minutes and Jameson was born at 9:25 am. It was such a relief! They put him right on my chest while my doctor pushed out the placenta (can I just say ouch!?) and my mom suctioned out his nose and mouth while a nurse gave him his Hep B, Vitamin K and erythromycin while he was right on me. Mark cut the cord. Jameson was squirming and crying like a champ. I guess he had passed some meconium on his way out, and they took care of that, too. It happened after his head had been delivered.

He weighed 7 lbs 6 oz and was 20 inches long. He had no vernix caseosa and was super peely - definitely overdue!

Blake 

Blake was born on August 19th, 2013 at 8:09pm. He was 21.5 inches long and weighed 8 lbs 12 oz.Throughout my pregnancy, we had prepared and planned for an unmedicated birth, partly in hopes of a better recovery than what I'd experienced with Jameson, partly out of curiosity and partly to save money on an epidural (epidural medication is billed hourly, and given the fact that I'd had mine for 11 hours with Jameson, that is quite a chunk of change, especially when you are self-pay, like we are).

Since we wanted an unmedicated birth, I really didn't want to be induced. Contractions with pitocin are a lot more intense than natural contractions, and being induced requires continuous monitoring, and so being induced just kind of sets you up for more IV fluids and a more "medical" birth experience.

My body, once again, decided not to go into labor (a tradition of mine). With Jameson, my labor started at 40 weeks and 4 days, so when my due date passed, I hoped things would get going soon, though I did hope to skip the whole five-days-of-contractions thing. My mom came into town on my due date, and with the hope that Blake would be born before she had to turn around and go home again, we scheduled an induction for Wednesday, August 14th.

At my appointment on the 13th, my doctor worried that I hadn't progressed enough on my own to have a successful induction, and that trying to force things the next day would lead to a c-section. So, we decided to wait. I should mention that my doctor wouldn't let me go past 41 weeks, "and then at that point, if you have a c-section, you have a c-section." It was frustrating and seemed arbitrary, but I wasn't really surprised at the lack of progress. I had a feeling it would happen this way. I knew I could have fought to wait until I went into labor and complied with whatever non-stress test schedule they push you in to to pressure you to just get an induction already, but I was tired and my resolve for a totally unmedicated birth had started to crack as I got used to the idea of being induced.

I went back to the doctor to have my membranes stripped on Wednesday (did nothing) and again on Friday (made me crampy, but ultimately did nothing).

On Monday, August 19th, we called the hospital and they told us to come in at 11:00am for the induction. We got to our room and sat there for a full hour before our nurse came in. Apparently Utah girls are prompt about full moons (which the next day was) and they were very busy.

My nurse got me all set up. Since I was GBS+, I needed an IV right away. The doctor came in to check me. I was a "tight 2" and 65% effaced, which is weird, because they had been telling me I was 80% effaced for the past month. When I told the doctor this, he asked me which doctor had made that determination and noted several times how "optimistic" the other doctors had been. They started pitocin and my antibiotics together at 1:00pm. Less than an hour after starting fluids, the doctor came in and broke my water, commenting again how thick my cervix was. The reminder was super encouraging, *sigh*.

Contractions at first were easy. The nurse came and cranked up the pitocin every 20 minutes. I don't know how it's calculated, but they start it at 2 and turn it up until it's at 20. I was encouraged by how manageable the contractions were for the first couple of hours. The only concern at this point were small decelerations in Blake's heart rate. When this would happen, I would need to switch positions until he was happy and his heart rate stayed in the normal range. Eventually this meant only laying on my side, which made contractions a lot less comfortable.

Little by little, things got tougher. By about 4:00pm, I got in the bathtub, monitors and all, hoping that the water would help relax me. It did, for a while, and then I needed my second round of antibiotics. Those antibiotics sting. My whole arm was on fire. It did distract me from the contractions, but it was really painful. Eventually, I wasn't able to relax through contractions anymore. The pitocin was up to 18, and I didn't get any breaks between contractions. It felt like I was having one constant contraction with peaks every two minutes. And they really were every two minutes. My sense of time is foggy when I'm in labor, but that timing was confirmed by all my handy continuous monitoring made necessary by the pitocin.

At 5:15pm, I decided it wasn't worth it anymore. I told Mark I wanted an epidural and he went to tell the nurse. She checked me and I was dilated to a 4. A FOUR! Ugh. A measly two centimeters in four and a half hours was super discouraging. At that rate, I could have 16 hours left, and I didn't care at that point if I had to sell all my clothes and work at McDonald's for years to pay for my epidural. I was getting it.

This is where I start to lose sense of all time and space. I was out of my mind in pain, the baby's heart rate was going nuts, and the anesthesiologist had to poke me three times before he got it right. I was preparing a speech in my head for Mark about the fact that we would be having no more children and that two was enough. There was no way I was going through this again. On top of it all, it was shift change for the nurses, so my night nurse was introducing herself and performing a cervical check (WHAT?!) in the middle of it all. I knew that my epidural was properly placed because I started to shake uncontrollably. I was dilated to five centimeters. This was about 6:15pm.

I continued to shake and feel all my contractions, so I self-dosed twice. Finally my pain was gone, though I could still feel all my contractions and the shaking never stopped. Blake's heart rate was getting scary low, so I was put on oxygen (another tradition of mine, I guess) and my nurse shut off the pitocin, mentioning that the cord could be around the baby's neck. I could not stop shaking. At 7:15pm or maybe 7:30pm, I could tell I was complete. I told the nurse, who checked me and lo and behold, 10 centimeters! Yahoo! Now I just had to stay in a position that let Blake's heart rate stay as stable as possible and breathe as deeply as I could into my oxygen mask while we waited for my doctor to finish another delivery.

They started setting up the room for me to push. I could feel Blake's head the whole time and I knew that if I didn't have my epidural, I would be pushing uncontrollably. He was *right* there.

The doc was ready for me and came in to chat with me about how pushing would work. I reminded him that I was keeping my placenta (placenta pills - love them - I don't care if that grosses you out), that I wanted delayed cord clamping, immediate skin to skin, and NO episiotomy. I started pushing at 7:50pm. Again, my sense of time was totally gone, because I swear I pushed for only 3 contraction before his head was out, but I know it actually took longer. His head emerged, purple, with the cord draped around his neck. Not only was Blake purple, he was stuck. Everyone in the room rushed over to me, yelling at me to push, while they pushed on my pelvis, my stomach, everywhere, yelling things like "staff assist!" calling for reinforcements. I was pushing as hard as I could, and less than a minute later, he was out. Mark told me later that he couldn't watch during this part. I was so focused at the time that I didn't realize how badly things could have gone until I looked back on it.

I learned later that I had an episiotomy, which given the circumstances, I was completely fine with. When you have a purple baby with a cord around its neck, you get that baby out as soon as possible. Because of Blake's scary delivery, we didn't get immediate skin to skin or delayed cord clamping. Instead we got rushed with everything and Blake was wisked over to the warmer, where nurses worked on him with total focus, speaking in hushed tones. He finally cried, and they said his apgar score was 7. His breathing was grunty, so he finally was able to lay on my chest, and in a few minutes, his breathing was fine.

Holding Blake after that scary 15 minutes of pushing and not knowing was the best feeling in the world. We instantly bonded. It felt like we were both breathing a sigh of relief and that he knew I was his mom and that he was safe. I never wanted it to end! After just a few minutes, his breathing was normal. All that "two kids is plenty" talk went right out the window. In that moment, it was all worth it.

Blake is the sweetest little boy. He nursed like a pro from the beginning, is putting on weight steadily, loves to snuggle, and so far has survived his big brother. We love him so much!

18 Months, and a new phase of baby-proofing is in order.

I just walked into the kitchen to find Jameson crouching Peepers style on a kitchen chair, gulping with gusto from my big icy drink. I would have taken a picture, but I didn't want him to steal any more of my treat, so I grabbed the cup from him as quickly as I could.

The kid is getting more sophisticated; there's no denying it. Not only did he climb up on the chair, a first, but he managed to carefully lift the large cup from the table to the chair without spilling an ounce. Putting things on the table or kitchen counter used to keep them safe, but those days are apparently gone. *sigh*

Not only is Jameson an agile mover, he's a wordsmith, too. At his 18 month checkup, one of the questions was whether he said 8 words. Um, yes:

no
hi
buh-bye
more
dada
mama
toast
cheese
doggy
george (as in curious)
uh-oh
nose
toes
toast
all gone
boat
ball
bowl
roll
block
apple
book
tickle
baby
strawberry
blankie
shovel
light
water
shoes
cookie
hot
a bite
bath
outside
egg
monkey

This month, Jameson likes to walk backwards and stomp with his shoes, and he spots doggies and balls everywhere He learned how to give hugs and kisses and knows where baby Blake lives.

He is obsessed with eating strawberries and toast.

He learned how to whisper and how to blow on his food.

A couple weeks ago, we were out to lunch with my friend Penny, and he reached across the table, grabbed my napkin and proceeded to blow his nose. Like, for real. He's doing it right now, too. Silly kid.

He loves blankets. When he sees one (or a towel, or something else resembling a blanket or towel, he says, "awww, bwonkie," and lays down on it on his tummy and shimmies around for a second to get a really comfy snuggle going. He stays that way for about three seconds and then he is on to the next thing.

He also insists on performing routine light switch checks, a la NBC's Community, whenever he sees a switch.

Breathe: everything is fine.

Tonight, after looking at IKEA's website, only to see once again that the crib we want for Jameson's big boy room (yes, I realize that "big boy" rooms aren't supposed to have cribs) is still not only out of stock, but no longer available for purchase online, I started to panic at the possibility that the crib had been discontinued.

If we can't get this crib, then the crib won't match the dresser.

My design plans will be thwarted.

Jameson will be deprived of a well-thought-out furniture plan and his room will look like the result of a dumpster dive.

Heavy stuff, you guys.

I did a little search and started to think that my fears were well-founded.

So I did what any money-saving Utahn would: I went to check the KSL classifieds. Hopefully someone will be selling one and I can just buy that one, and bonus, not have to put the dang thing together with those tiny little allen wrenches.

But when I get to KSL.com, I'm stopped by a huge photo of the cutest two-year-old boy who is battling something much bigger than mis-matched nursery furniture; he has kidney cancer.

I thought of my little boy, running around outside, digging in the dirt, going down slides, chasing dogs, eating popsicles and getting sticky and sweaty and having the time of his life, and at once I was so happy, and so sad.

My heart broke for this little boy, and for his parents. As much as I try not to do this, sometimes when I look at my life and all the good things in it, instead of feeling grateful, I feel scared at how much there is to lose. When I think of my child being in pain or danger, I just ache inside.

So I will take temper tantrums. I will take picky eating. I will take red popsicle stains. I will take Curious George every day until the end of time. I will even endure mis-matched bedroom furniture and I will not worry what people think of me for it. Because whether Jameson's bed is IKEA brown/black or just plain old espresso finish, I'll enjoy the same slobbery kisses, the same giggles, the same snuggles, the same excitement from learning a new word, and the same love, love, love from my sweet little boy.

And I'll just pray that the fun isn't cut short, and that I don't forget how much fun I'm having.

17 months

Two months in a row - am I good, or what?

This is his catalog pose.

This month, Jameson has been all about books. He loves them. He likes to flip through each page pretty quickly, then go back to review random pages near the middle.

The other day, I was up getting ready for the day and he was being really quiet. Usually, when I go upstairs, he follows me eventually and tries to get under the sink so he can sprinkle Comet in his hair and eat pomade. But today, he didn't. I looked down the stairs, and he was crouched on the kitchen floor (like Mr. Peepers) thumbing through Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? Like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

He also has a special book that he reads at church, that is also a puzzle, which is cool, and a few he likes to read in the car.

I love his obsession with books and I hope he'll soon allow me to actually read to him!

He also loves apples as much as Mr. Peepers does.

Jameson has also discovered the joy of dipping french fries (and his fingers) in ketchup.

He also eats yogurt with a spoon and is obsessed with outside. Here he sits watching Mark mow the lawn:

This little bug is getting so big, but I still can't believe he is going to be the big brother so soon. I entered the third trimester today, and it's also 90 degrees outside. We are so excited to meet baby Blake.

Breckenridge

We just got back from a fun trip to Breckenridge, Colorado. The locals call this "mud season;" the resorts are closed but it isn't quite warm enough for summer sports.

We didn't care. We practically had the city to ourselves, and the weather was actually really nice.

On Sunday, one of Mark's friends from law school came up with his family to stay with us at our condo. It was nice to walk around, visit and try to keep the kids entertained. We walked the river in town, which is so pretty.

We also found a slide:

On Monday, we went in to Denver to visit my friend Melissa and her family, but not without stopping by Mile-High Stadium for Mark to commune with the sports gods and for Jameson to fall on his face on the sidewalk. We met up with Melissa and her kids at the Colorado Children's Museum, which Jameson loved. He could have moved right in. I don't have a lot of good pictures at the museum, because Jameson wouldn't even take a break from playing long enough to even look at me.

On Tuesday, we spent time hiking and shopping. The hiking was (mostly) successful, with Jameson doing quite a bit of his own walking.

Main street in Breckenridge is so adorable. It's lined with colorful, historic homes, and I was geeking out about every one.

We loved our little getaway and will definitely be going back!

Playgrounds are serious.

Today we took Jameson to the park with the swings. Our neighborhood, which we love for many reasons, has two awesome playgrounds. One is for kids 3 and under, but has no swings. One is for kids 5-12, but has swings, including baby swings. So you can see my dilemma when it comes to deciding which park to visit. We wanted to go to on the swings today, so we went to the big kid park. After a while on the swings, we tried the big slides, and Jameson was in heaven. I think we have some cute pictures of it on Mark's phone, so I will have to get some of those.

I love the look on his face in this picture. It says to me, "I know this park is for big kids, but I'm here, I'm fairly coordinated, and I can't look like a fool in front of all these people. I'm walking across the drawbridge, dangit, if it's the last thing I do."