Amelia Lee, Almost Three

This little girl is one cheeky monkey. She cracks me up. She drives me crazy. She repeats EV-ER-RY-THING. She knows what she wants. And what she likes. She is affectionate. And thoughtful. Sweet and naughty. A ball of energy and spunk. She is sometimes a grouch and sometimes a peach--and you never really know who you're going to get.

 She's in the process of dropping her afternoon nap and has only been taking a couple naps a week for months now. I don't love this, but I'm growing to accept the inevitable. She can mostly handle no naps but oh man not always. She stays in her room and even on her bed throughout, so I can't complain too much. When we come to get her she used to say, "I woke up!" Even when she didn't sleep. But now she says, "I didn't sleep!" We're like, yeah, we know. We WATCH you. It's actually quite entertaining watching her play during nap. She seems to be orchestrating something major; she walks about her bed and talks to her friends. Peeks out the window and kicks the wall. Sings songs and puts her babies to bed. She needs the downtime though and so do I, so I'm thankful she at least stays in there.

 She loves her daddy, and I mean LOVES. She thinks it's punishment when I put her to bed. I try not to take it personally but sometimes that's hard (for me). When I wake up with Wyatt and come out into the kitchen she often exclaims NO!, with that much emphasis. So that's a nice way to wake up (especially after waking up with a newborn throughout the night)! I guess I don't blame her...he is much more patient than I am. Thankfully he's half of this parenting thing we got going on.

She also loves her brother. Like, a lot. I am so incredibly thankful for the way she has accepted and welcomed him into our family. She likes to see him and hold him and squeeze him and she is for the most part super gentle. I'm impressed, to say the least. You never know how the sibling thing is going to pan out, but 7 weeks in and things are looking good on that front. WOO. Also, PHEW.

Art and painting are big right now, which I love. She is always up for crafting with mama and I can't help myself and buy her new art supplies whenever I get the chance. I just bought her some scissors, so watch out.

She still likes to get herself dressed and pick her undies and jammies. And she really likes for things to match. She tries real hard and I can usually convince her to wear what I want her to wear if it matches something else she's wearing...undies, socks, etc.

She seems to have become heavier and sturdier in the last few months. I'm not entirely sure, but I think she weighs around 28lbs. Maybe more. Either way, she's heavy. But maybe that's because I've gotten used to carrying around an 11lb newborn now. She is definitely strong. She is opinionated. And sensitive. Cheerful and silly. She loves to sing. And read. And hug and kiss. And take care of her babies. And pretend to sleep on the couch. And make her animals talk. And look at pictures of herself. And she likes to take off her socks. Her hands and feet are often cold. She likes to be funny. She likes to pick out which fork she uses. And plate and glass and spoon. She likes to be in control.

She loves to go to the park. And to eat at restaurants. She's a good eater, thankfully. I mean, not all the time. She is almost there, afterall. She is so into imaginary play. It's so fun to watch. I find her in her own little world so often and try not to disturb her too much by capturing the moment. She loves to dress and undress (herself and her animals). She thinks it's fun to wear pajamas during the day. Her hair is coming in thick and dark and beautiful. She's our delight.

The Water Birth of Wyatt James

After weeks of crampiness and labor-ish feelings, I was beginning to resign myself to the fact that this baby was going to be late. The morning of December 4th (the day before my due date), I awoke around 5am to use the bathroom (nothing new) and got back in bed. I couldn't sleep so I started reading and responding to some emails. One was to a friend who had just suffered another miscarriage. I weeped for her and the baby that she wouldn't get to meet, as I know that same ache. One was to my mom where I went on about being patient and accepting the baby's time table. Then I opened the Bible app I have on my phone that I think I had opened maybe once in the five years I've had it. It randomly opened to the book of James (which we had already decided would be the baby's middle name--boy or girl--since it's Brad's middle name as well as his father's name). The 4th verse read, "But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing." I began to cry and accept that this baby's timing was more perfect than my own plan. I knew that all along, but accepting it is quite different than just telling yourself to be patient or saying that you are.

I still couldn't sleep so I went to the bathroom. Again. This time felt different. There was a bit of something something, if you know what I mean. (And if not, don't even worry about it.) It was about 6am and I went back into our bedroom where Brad was just opening his eyes. I smiled and said, "I think something is happening." Which is basically the exact same thing I said to him last time. He smiled back at me and we both got to work preparing. It was finally time and we were ready and excited to begin this part of our journey and get to meet this baby at last.

Around 6:30am, I realized that the "cramps" were making me stop what I was doing and breathe through them. I started timing them at 6:45am and after about three contractions I realized they were coming every 2-3 minutes. Shit was about to get real. Brad was setting up the tub while I made the "birth bed" which is basically extra protection from labor stuffs. He reminded me to contact our midwife, Vicki, who had asked me to let her know after two contractions since my labor with Millie went fairly quickly. I delayed a little...I think I was in a bit of denial. But there was no mistaking it. I texted Vicki and told her what was going on: partial loss of plug, contractions every 2 minutes, having to breathe through them, etc. and she wrote back that she was on her way. It really was time!

 

Millie woke up at her usual 7am and was VERY interested in what was going on, reasonably so. The questions began and didn't let up. It was a school day so as Brad filled the tub, I tried to feed the monkey. I had already planned on what I would feed her if need be: Cereal it was. She never scoffs at cereal since she rarely gets it. In between getting a spoon and pouring the milk, I leaned on the counter and breathed through each contraction. I wasn't getting much of a break in between each rush, but doing modified squats and leaning on things helped each one to feel somewhat manageable. I turned the music on in Millie's room as I got her dressed and we danced around her room. She was cracking me up and reminding me to stay in the moment.  I even somehow managed to get her hair in piggies. We talked about the baby coming and how she was becoming a big sister and she was pumped. I just remember being so excited. The day had finally arrived.

Brad took Millie to school around 8am after debating a bit about having someone come and bring her so he could stay with me, but I was like, this baby isn't coming out in 10 minutes, so just go and get back. While he was gone I got to work on making some adjustments to my birthing mix. No clue why I didn't have that ready to go. As I was reviewing my "pump up mix," I came across a JayZ song titled, "December 4th" and played it. I began to lose my mind as I realized that December 4th was JayZ's birthday and was about to be my baby's birthday as well. THE BEST! I was absurdly excited about this.

Our doula, Elizabeth, arrived while Brad was taking Millie to school and I was flitting around the house, cleaning and tidying up in between contractions. I had so much clarity in the space between. I could have fully normal conversations and then feel the rush coming on and lean into it. I was focused on riding each one. And then I'd just go back to whatever we were talking about. Every 2 minutes or so, I would lean on the table or counter and do the modified squat type motions and breathed through. Occasionally Elizabeth would rub my lower back as I moved, which felt amazing.

Brad was back home by now and finishing with the birthing tub. I was determined to get in the water this time. At some point, maybe 9am, Vicki arrived and began preparations of her own. At this point I was in the deep of it and while I remember walking towards the front door to greet her, I had to stop midway and get through a wave before saying hello. She got her things and directed me back to the bedroom where she was going to check me. I was a little nervous about this since I was never actually checked during my labor with Millie. At all. (She was basically crowning when the midwife got there last time so there was obviously no need for that.) Since we only had a brief window between contractions, we had to time it just right. She prepared me, saying that as soon as the next one was over, she would take a look. She checked my progress and announced that I was ready to get in the tub. Sweet relief! She didn't tell me how far along I was, but I later learned I was about a 6/7.

I got in the tub and it felt AMAZING. The contractions slowed down a bit and I was able to get some breaks. I had tried to pee before getting into the pool, but sitting on the toilet was extraordinarily painful. Like whoa. I can't remember if I ever actually peed, but I know I was being fed lots of water and coconut water. Brad was by my side the entire time, being my support. He was and is truly amazing. I think he should be a doula. And when things really got going, he knew when to talk and when to be silent (most of the time). He was incredible.

So back to the tub...I was legit rocking that thing. Seriously, I was making waves. That's what felt the best as I was getting through each wave, literally and figuratively. Things were really starting to get intense and at one point I was getting pretty scared of the pain. I had been doing such a good job (if I don't say so myself) about managing each one and taking it as it came. I would start to kinda freak out and then instead I started chanting/moaning "yes" over and over again. I am not sure where that came from, but it helped. Another mantra I used was "open." It definitely helped to relax my jaw and remind me to let my body open and let the baby move further down. At times I could actually feel the baby moving lower which is a  mind-blowing sensation.

Throughout this time, Vicki was busy prepping her supplies and would occasionally come back and check on me, but mostly let us do it on our own. This was exactly what I wanted. She would stand in the doorway (we had set up the tub in our unusually large bathroom which had a skylight) and encourage me and then get back to what she was doing. I remember she was standing there at one point and an intense rush started coming and I said, rather loudly, "I'm feeling pushy!" She reminded me to stay calm and to just go with it. And go with it I did.

I had a couple strong (and exuberant) contractions really close together and i just knew he was almost here. I was on my hands and knees the entire time in the tub (which is how I labored with Millie too), rocking forward and backward. Both Brad and Vicki were behind me and she checked and said his head was right there. RIGHT THERE. She asked if I wanted to feel, but I passed since a major contraction was just about to hit me. Three more contractions (including me yelling "RING OF FIRE!") and he was out. He was born in the caul, which means that the bag of waters didn't break. Apparently it is a special blessing to be born this way and is quite rare, even in natural births. (Some say that a child born this way may have special intuitive powers, be destined to be a midwife, have extraordinary luck or never die drowning. So, yeah... interesting.)

 

Vicki asked Brad to tear the bag once his head was out but that was some strong sack and he couldn't seem to get a good grip. Oh and let me tell you, having just the head out and being coherent enough to understand that there is a baby's head sticking out of your body is CRAZY. I was like, um, let's DO this. So another push and out he came. Brad caught him and announced that he was a BOY! A BOY! I was thrilled! He was here. It was him all along.

They placed him on my chest after a little maneuvering with the umbilical cord and I was ecstatic. He had a bunch of vernix on his back and had the biggest mouth and lips I'd ever seen on a baby. And he was a CHUNK! We didn't know how much he weighed then but he seemed so much bigger than Millie...and it turned out he was almost 2 lbs bigger. My chunky monkey.

After the cord stopped pulsating, Brad cut it and they helped me get out of the tub. I sat on the birthing stool for like 2.2 seconds and out came the placenta. They helped me get a little cleaned up and then I got into bed with my baby and he began nursing right away. It was time for Millie to be picked up from school, so Brad went to get her. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. In those three and a half hours she was gone, she became a big sister. We all climbed into bed together and had lunch and stayed there for most of the afternoon. Millie growing more and more interested in and curious about her little brother each moment. She kept asking if she could touch him. She was clearly protective of him from the start.

It took us almost a whole day to decide on his name but in the end it was Millie who made the final decision and I wouldn't want it any other way. Wyatt James was born on December 4th at 10:46am. One day early. Just like his big sister. (I love being on time/early so this makes me obscenely proud.)

I continue to be mystified by this whole life-creating, life-giving process. It is simply amazing. The whole thing. I'm truly blessed and utterly grateful that I've been able to be a part of the magic.

Wyatt: One Month

He's coming alive, that's for sure! After weeks of mostly eating, sleeping (constantly, anywhere and everywhere), and burping, he is now staying awake for longer intervals (about an hour) and needing some help to go to sleep. He still sleeps primarily in the bouncy seat during the day but seems to want it to be darker. Burps and gas are becoming easier for him to cope with, but sometimes still get stuck. He slept in his crib for a nap for the first time--success! He's still sleeping between us in our bed with the sleep positioner. He's started waking at 6:30am (ish), no matter when his last feeding was and wants to be up for a bit. I don't love this, but thankfully Brad has been getting up with him and letting me rest, which I'm pretty sure is crucial for my survival.

His adorable hair has started to fall out and now he's rocking the old man 'do. He never really fit into newborn sizes, and even some 0-3m clothes don't work because of his big cloth diaper butt. He doesn't love to get dressed/undressed, but he seems to love the bath and just lying on his changing mat. He spits a lot. He hoots, just like his sister did. He guzzles milk. In fact, for a week or so I had to pull him off to burp him every couple of minutes because he was getting so much milk, so quickly. He seems to be handling it much better now. He eats every 2-3 hours.

He is such a sweet soul. He is changing and growing so fast. It's hard to believe he has only been here for one month. And oh we love him so.