Category Archives: Pregnancy

The Weekend Confinement of Small Elephant

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We had a bit of a scare on Friday morning.

I’ll spare you the specific details, but all of a sudden, our morning plans of a jaunt to the local library were exchanged for several nervous hours at the walk-in clinic of our doctor’s office.

And as I’ve discovered with most pregnancy situations, the symptoms I was experiencing could be perfectly normal…or dismally grave. As much as I love and employ the book “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”, the thesis of its contents sometimes seems to be that “every pregnancy and every facet of every pregnancy is different…you never know…check with your doctor….you could be fine…or you could be dying.”

But once in an exam room, after finally locating our little peanut on the ultrasound screen, we all (including the doctor, I think) heaved a great sigh of relief to see that little heartbeat flickering just as it should be, and after giving us the best report we could have hoped for, I was sent home to “take it easy” and wait things out over the weekend.

It is now Saturday afternoon, and I am happy to report that, for now, all seems to be well, and that scary situation that took place on Friday morning has happened no more.

Am I “out of the woods”?

Well…no.

And not because I am necessarily still afraid I might be miscarrying, but because I became painfully (and yet happily) aware of a reality yesterday morning that I had failed to understand before: Friday was no different than any other day. Just because I was faced with the slight possibility of losing my baby did not change the fact that, if God wants me to have this baby, I’m going to have this baby. I might have been excruciatingly aware of the delicate balance between life and death, afraid to move or breathe for fear of upsetting it, but nothing had really changed from the hundreds of days before this one.

Such is the unseen truth that surrounds our comings and goings every day of our life. We are never “out of the woods” when it comes to possible sicknesses, losses, death…but then again, we are ever and always held fast in the palm of God’s hand. As the great missionary John Paton put it, “Looking up in unceasing prayer to our dear Lord Jesus, I left all in his hands, and felt immortal till my work was done.” If we really believe what the Bible says, we, too, must adopt the theology that we (and our children) are immortal until our work is done.

This brought me great comfort, and I realized that my fears that day were not based on whether or not God was in control, but on what He was going to ask of me, and although I was still discouraged by my erratically beating heart and my nerve-clenched stomach in the face of the unknown, I was so happy to note the spiritual growth that has taken place in my life since my last traumatic experience…

for it wasn’t too very long ago that I frequently displayed (by my fears and anxieties and my panicked speech) that I didn’t really believe God was in control at’all.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that the day was saturated with obvious grace. On our long drive to the clinic, Mr. Gore and I prayed together. Comically, our routine (per my request) is for me to pray first and then for him to follow and “clean it up”.  But as I prayed, I began to note the seeming coincidences that were lining our day…

1. My Mom had been planning on taking the kids and me to the library at 9:00, so she was at our house early, dressed, and inexplicably armed with a bag of paperwork that she needed to work on. Mr. Gore met her at the sidewalk to explain our situation, and 20 minutes later, we were on our way, hearts at rest knowing our kids would be in good hands regardless of what our day held.

2. Our servant-hearted friend, Kodi, on hearing that I’ve been having nightly bouts of “morning sickness” starting at about 5:00 p.m., kindly offered to take our kids one night this week and make us supper. We had originally scheduled for Tuesday, but when something came up, we switched to Friday. Again, our hearts were at rest as we drove to the doctor, knowing that our kids would have a fun evening at Kodi’s house, and that our supper would be taken care of.

3. And then we could have gone on and on about how God was obviously taking care of us: Mr. Gore was not out of town. Mr. Gore has a flexible job that allows him to take me to the doctor should the need arise. This happened on the morning of a Friday, giving us the freedom to make it to the doctor rather than being anxious all weekend…

I could continue, but the conclusion of our prayer was this: your kindness and grace in caring for us so fully, God, gives us faith that you will continue to care for us. We so badly want to have this baby, but we trust your Word and we can tell that you love us, and so we know you will only do what is best. We’ve been learning in church how grace and peace are often coupled together, because when we contemplate the great grace of God and focus on what He has done and is doing, our hearts will be at peace concerning the future. I am an extremely weak vessel, and so “tremulous” was still the state of my being as we sat in that exam room, but at the heart of me, the truth was ringing that God would be faithful to us, no matter what. I share these things as a memorial for my family and for my own forgetful heart. May we never forget how good He has been.

Well, as I said, things are looking extremely optimistic, and in the meantime, I have been perched ever-so-elegantly in my king-sized bed, sometimes laying on my left side, sometimes laying on my right side, sometimes sitting cross-legged on my bum, but always with several sources of entertainment nearby, along with a variety of tempting foods and beverages. My Mom has been my faithful nurse, laundress, nanny, housekeeper and cook, my friends have blessed me with childcare and yummy foods, my church has encouraged me to tears with tender sentiments and prayers, and I am feeling incredibly blessed, regardless of the fact that Friday was one of the scariest days of my life.

And, as ever, I have found in my little family a sweet source of encouragement and entertainment to get me through the weekend.

My firstborn crept into bed yesterday afternoon before going to Kodi’s house and asked me if I was feeling okay. When I asked him to pray for me, he took both of my hands in his and said, so solemnly, “Dear God, please make it easy for Mama to have her baby. And if you don’t make it easy, we’ll just come back and ask you again to make it easy.” Tears were rolling down my cheeks by the time he finished his sweet and tender prayer, but he has grown so accustomed to seeing this evidence of my sentimental heart that he doesn’t even mention it anymore.

Miss Sunday has, not surprisingly, been less tender in her ministrations, and, donning her nurse pinafore and armed with her trusty doctor’s bag, shoved mini marshmallow “pills” into my mouth and barked at anyone who came near her “patient”. Still yet, if I am ever forced to go out into battle, I want that girl at my side.

And sweet Baby Betsie toddles in every so often and brightens my room with her nonsensical chatter and her frequent hugs and kisses.

I mustn’t paint too idyllic a picture, however, and will confess that when all three are here at the same time, I feel the urge to flee from my “sickbed”.

I would never envy the life of an invalid, but for this weekend at least, there has been a silver lining in my unexpected confinement: being loved, knowing God better, resting my body and my mind…

and I’ll confess, having hot food delivered straight into my hands whenever I want it is pretty near to heaven, especially for a ravenous pregnant woman.

But most of all, I am praising God that, for today, my little baby #4 is still with us, enjoying the sweet blessings of love and home and family.

~

Want to read more on the extraordinary life of John Paton? Click here.

The Return of Small Elephant

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I have an alter-ego, like Beyonce.

We’re awesome like that.

Hers is named ‘Sasha Fierce’ and she supposedly comes out on stage and helps Beyonce to be brave and strong and…well, fierce.

Mine is named ‘Small Elephant’.

Small Elephant is neither brave, nor strong, and certainly not fierce. And she only emerges every two years or so when I am looking, feeling and acting, well…like a small elephant.

You know, when I’m pregnant.

I first became acquainted with her when I was pregnant with my first child. It was Christmastime and my Mom and I had planned a beautiful Christmas tea for my 3-year old niece, Abigail. It was sparkly and glittery and dainty and pink and there were petite-fours and red slushy punch…and I was so excited.

I decided to dress for the occasion, wearing a fancy black maternity dress and even did my hair up in a pretty bun.

But when I went to look in the mirror at the finished product, I almost burst into tears. Because no matter how hard I had tried to look delicate and fancy for our tea, I was still twice my normal size and had the look in my eyes of a sad and scared deer-in-the-headlights. In my painfully self-conscious mind, I looked exactly like one of those little cartoon elephant ballerinas who prance around in a pink tutu; she might be wearing a tutu, but she is still unmistakably what?…

An elephant.

The image stuck with me, and although I have grown up a lot since that day 6 years ago, I still like to refer to the pregnant version of myself as “Small Elephant”.

Because, while I initially wasn’t a huge fan of this roly-poly caricature of myself, I have grown to love her. She’s funny. She’s a basketcase. She’s transparent. She has super-hero-sized taste buds and emotions. She is me…but on steroids, and she is totally out of control. And she walks around with powdered donuts in her robe pocket.

Seriously…what’s not to love? (Don’t ask my husband that question).

And so it is with gladness that I lunge back into the realm of Small Elephant, and, as tumultuous as our time together usually  is, I look forward to sharing her adventures with you over the next year. Until then, here are some of her (our?) stories from her (our…) last visit.

This is already getting weird.

~

(Warning: the following posts were written before I knew that blog posts should be under 1000 words. My bad…)

I Am Resolved

Small Elephant Scrapes the Bottom of the Barrel (literally).

Small Elephant Goes to the Theatre

Mrs. Gore’s Tips for Fashionably Surviving a Hospital Stay, Phase 3

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OH my GOODNESS! You finally had your baby, you poor little baby-making machine. I do hope your labor was not too…laborious. And please, let me be the first to congratulate you. Congratulations.

Now, I wish so badly I could tell you the hardest part is over, but…

Maybe I just won’t say anything. Everything is going to be fine, trust me. Just…hang in there.

And since I have taken it upon myself to prepare you for your entire hospital stay, here is some more spectacular (and absolutely free) advice to help you through the next couple of days. Fashionably, of course.

~ The Recovery Phase ~

*After you get to hold your sweet baby for a bit (and perhaps try to feed it – more on that later!), they will whisk the little one off to the hospital nursery. You will reunite later in your recovery room. And while baby is being all spiffied up and tested, they’ll attempt to spiffy you up, too. Key word: attempt. Most of the nurses and your doctor will leave and you’ll be left with one nurse who will tend very faithfully to you. Be nice to her!

*I warned you about the epidural duct-tape removal, didn’t I? Well, the time has arrived. Enjoy!

*Here comes the most vulnerable part of this entire experience, right up there with the leg holsters, in my opinion…your nurse will accompany you to the bathroom. If you had an epidural, your legs are going to be prettttty numb. You will still feel like a spry young woman on the inside, but your body will force you to walk like a very elderly lady, clinging to the arm of a nurse who might very well be much older than you. Nothin’ you can do about it. Nothin’ fashionable about it. But, like I said before, this is what goes on in the inner recesses of the hospital. That lady that’s holding you up? She’s done this a million times. So just chat with her while you tinkle. Carpe Diem!

*Very soon, you get to eat! Choose this meal wisely, because it is going to taste so good. You’re starving and so proud of yourself and so this truly is a feast worth remembering. I’ve had all my babies very early in the morning; therefore, I always treat myself to a Sausage McGriddle and a cup of my favorite coffee from McDonald’s. The height of fashion, I assure you. (p.s. Tell your husband that Mrs. Gore insists that he go and fetch you whatever vittles your heart desires right this minute! Go, man! Shoo! Spit-spot!).

*Now this is going to get a bit dicey, because I’m not God or Santa and so I don’t know when you had your baby. At midnight? At 8 o’clock in the morning? I dunno. But my general rule is, get cleaned up as soon as possible. A refreshing shower, a fresh coat of paint, tidy up your hair and put on some comfy clothes…you’ll feel like a hundred bucks. (Sorry, lass…you won’t feel like a million bucks for quite some time). Visitors might be popping in. Don’t let them catch you looking like a Mrs. Bungle.

*It is important that you listen to me very closely right now: Don’t. freak. out. You’re going to be all sorts of antsy about breastfeeding and getting some privacy and getting home as quickly as possible. Stop. Don’t. Think, you hormonal momnesiac crazy person! You and your baby have round-the-clock care here. You get to eat in bed. Someone comes in once a day to clean your room. Take away the beeping monitors and the constant checking of your vitals and you might very well be in a fancy hotel with all sorts of amenities.

*Seriously, though, take advantage of the advantages during your very short stay. Cause you’re going to get home and go “OH my gosh…I wanna go back to the hospital!!!”

*Every woman who has a baby gets this huge bag of free products in recovery. They are all so foreign and weird…and disgusting…but they house some crazy cool recovery items: 1) Humongous, giant you-know-whats that I told you about in Phase 1. Double up on those at first, by the way. Yay! 2) Weird, stretchy mesh one-size-fits-all unmentionables – I think they are created especially for those giant you-know whats. Double yay! 3) Disposable paper-ish mats to protect your bedding – take a couple of these home, I always say. 4) A plastic bottle with a squirt-top lid. This little buddy is pretty important, so keep up with it – your nurse will tell you what to do with it. More key words: warm water.

*I mentioned the constant checking of your vitals. I should warn you…they are going to be constantly checking your vitals. Or at least it feels like it. I’m not sure, but I think this must be done every 3 hours for 24 hours. Or wait…that’s the breastfeeding schedule…no, the breastfeeding schedule is every 3 hours for the next 365 days…ugh, I don’t know. But its a lot, believe me, and is especially frustrating when you are trying to sleep.

*Which brings me to my next point: that first night of sleep is pretty miserable. Your brain is going berzerko, the bed and the room is unfamiliar, your body feels like shoo-shoo, there are random lights on and even randomer machines beeping and the most randomest people coming into your room to take your temperature and blood pressure…it is highly likely that you are going to feel like you’re going insane. And so I learned something on my second go-round: when they offer you a sleeping pill before bed, take it! Its just one or two nights…you won’t get addicted. (Where’s my Lunesta?!?)

*On a similar note, I have a confession to make. For just those two itty-bitty nights at the hospital, I send my baby to the hospital nursery, after a late night feeding. Then I take the offered sleeping pill, I turn off all the lights and I go to sleep. Three or four hours later, a nurse wakes me up to feed the baby and then I send it right back to the nursery to sleep the rest of the night. This is a great opportunity to catch up on some much-needed rest before you go home. Believe me, the first night you’re home, you and your baby will have plenty of bonding time. Plenty. Puh-lenty. And every night after that for the next 18 years, I’ve been told…

*Continuing on, once the baby is brought in for its first feeding of the morning, preferably around 7:00, go ahead and wake up for the day. If you go back to sleep after that feeding, you’re going to wake up with hospital bed-head to a steady stream of visitors, whether in the form of nurses or family or clergy or lactation consultants or hospital photographers or staff or your doctor or a group of visiting interns…so just trust me. Get up, take a nice, hot shower, wash your hair, dry and style it, put on your make-up and real-people clothes, tidy up your room, and be sitting up in bed like the fair flower of motherhood that you are when the first guest arrives on the scene. They’ll be shocked. And you will have the pleasure of demurely laughing off their praises. Like, “Who me? Oh I always look like this the day after I’ve had a baby…”

*Again, not all of us are geniuses, Ms. Smartypants. So if you are like me and you’re not a science major and you’ve never been in the hospital before, “bm” stands for “bowel movement” and the powers-that-be really want you to have one at the hospital. Good luck with that, and be sure to let your nurse know when or if it happens.

*Excuse me while I take a deep breath of preparation. Okay…breastfeeding. Beautiful…natural…good-for-the-baby…blah, blah, blah. It hurts. But soon, it won’t. So when you are gritting your teeth in pain and tears are popping out of your eyes and your brain is screaming “What is happening to me?! I want my Mommmmyyyy!!!”, know deep in your heart (because Mrs. Gore told you) that in a few days, this will be much, much easier. It is just part of the process. My condolences.

*Another word on breastfeeding…there are these ladies who walk around the women’s hospital who are “professional lactation consultants”. They do a great service to new mothers who are trying to tackle the mysteries of a very new and overwhelming process, but to spare you a great surprise, I’ll tell you now: they are very “hands-on.” And you might feel that they are a bit pushy, but truly, they’re just trying to help you. Do as I say and not as I do: relax and accept their help and insight.

*Another another word on breastfeeding, not to be confused with my advice on taking advantage of hospital amenities: Don’t. freak. out. Nursing a baby is one of the most natural things on earth, but it initially feels like the most unnatural thing. Not only do you have to figure the whole system out, you two have got to get to know one another. Add to that the many surprising side-effects of nursing (this would be a good time to read What to Expect’s chapter on breastfeeding: they spell it all out) and it is kind of difficult not to freak out. Just remember this: you live in America. Your baby is not going to starve to death. Calm…DOWN. (Not to be confused with “let-down”).

*Now that I think of it, “don’t freak out” needs to be applied across the board. So take a nice, deep breath and listen to me: Its okay if your baby is not a breastfeeding prodigy. Its okay if your baby doesn’t burp after every feeding. Its okay that you don’t know what you are doing. Its okay that it hurts to walk. Its okay that your last visitor touched your baby’s hands and germified it. Its okay that your baby’s poop looks like tar. And that weird belly button clamp? Its okay. Everything is going to be okay. Not now, maybe, but much, much sooner than you think. I promise.

*Oh! This is the day you get to read the new issue of In Style magazine that I told you to pack. See all those pretty clothes? You’ll get to wear them soon. If you can walk, I give you permission to do a little happy dance. If you can’t walk, call your nurse immediately.

*This is an order: enjoy your husband during your hospital stay. No bickering allowed. No ingratitude allowed. You two will be entering the trenches of parenthood the minute you go home. Pray together. Laugh together. Eat together. Tell him how much you love him – you might not get the chance to tell him again until the next time you get pregnant.

*If you stay at the hospital for a second day, repeat my advice for the first day. Wake up, shower, and get pretty before visiting hours. This is most likely the day you will be taking your baby home. There will be lots of pictures. I repeat, there will be lots of pictures.

*Again, I don’t know your particular situation or how long you’ll be at the hospital, but when it does come time to gather up your things, throw away as much stuff as you can. You’ll have lots of unneeded papers and pamphlets and half-eaten bags of candy – toss them now. You won’t have the time or the inclination to do so when you get home.

*On the other hand, start gathering up as much free stuff as possible. Hospital receiving blankets are unrivaled. They are huge and perfect and are yours for the taking. Oh, and don’t forget your big bag of gross recovery stuff.

*The checking-out process can take a really long time. Prepare by tidying up your room and piling all your bags neatly up in the corner. Send your husband to fetch the carseat (he can take a load of stuff on his way). Change the baby into its going-home outfit. Be prepared to sign lots of papers and listen to lots of instruction. You’ll be given a few prescriptions that will need to be filled on the way home. And I think they’ll give you a shot or two. I’m telling you, the fun here at the hospital never ends!

*When it is time to leave, you’ll be given permission to fasten baby into its carseat. One of my first nurses taught me the following: to keep your little darling from looking like the tiny, frail, little waif that it is, roll up two of those receiving blankets you just helped yourself to and place them on either side of your baby after he or she is buckled in, as snugly against its side and under its arms and shoulders as possible. They will lodge your baby more firmly in place and will make the ride home much more comfortable for both of you. (I suppose there is some fancy thingamajig at Babies R Us that will do this for you, made of lambskin or something luxurious and is FDA or DHS or CIA approved, but…this is free! And you won’t have to find a place for it in a month when you no longer need it).

*Here comes your wheelchair one last time! After taking your seat, the carseat will be placed on your lap. Which means that your husband will have absolutely no help carrying all the things you both brought. You should warn him ahead of time so he can make as many trips as needed before you check out.

*I’m not bragging, but on my last wheelchair ride, my nurse said, and I quote: “Your hair looks amazing! We don’t see a lot of fixed hair around here.” Ahem. Case closed. This is why I have the authority to write this article.

*You have exited those sliding doors for what I pray is the last time until your next hospital laycation. Stand up, turn around and wave good-bye to one of the most life-changing and monumental events you will ever experience. There are plenty more on the way -  this is just the beginning, Mama!

*When it does come time to take a picture of you loading into the car with baby, or bringing baby down the sidewalk to your house, don’t forget to hold the carseat (or just the baby) in the region of your tummy. Everyone will think you look great with your slender neck and wrists and legs sticking out from behind the carseat. What they won’t know is that underneath that carseat is a stomach the size of a…carseat.

*This is not a tip, but a sentiment: I am so happy for you. You made it through the hospital stay! The world will look completely different to you on the way home, and your life will never be the same, in the very best way. God bless you and your new bundle of joy.

Lord have mercy! I am almost certain that I have left many tips out, but we’re on a deadline here: my sweetest little pregnant friend will be induced on Friday! So if anyone has any more advice to give her, please do so below. And, as always, thanks for stopping by!

thank God for bulky car-seats, also known as stomach-hiders…

“Mrs. Gore’s tips for Bringing Home Baby”…coming up soon!

Mrs. Gore’s Tips for Fashionably Surviving a Hospital Stay, Phase 2

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Well, congratulations, young mother-to-be ~ You made it through the packing phase and you’ve arrived at the hospital. Your day is finally here, and I would love to do my best to help you through it in as peaceful and dignified a manner as possible…

I obviously have no idea what your circumstances are…your water might have just broken, you might have to be induced, you might be scheduled for a c-section, or you could just be having good ol’ normal contractions; each scenario calls for different tips, I suppose, but I will attempt to give good general advice that will help one and all of my pregnant countrywomen*. Let us begin.

The delivery phase…

*Two weeks before your due date, you are what they call “full-term,” meaning you could safely go into labor any minute, or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next day or the next day OR on your due date…or any day after that for the next two weeks. After that I suppose they have mercy on you and induce your labor. Now listen closely: IT IS VERY IMPORTANT that you shower and shave every day once you reach “full-term”. It is also very important that you put on make-up every morning and that your hair is presentable; these are the most imperative steps to fashionably surviving at the hospital. If your hair is oily when you go to the hospital, it will be at least 12 hours oilier before you get to wash it. If your legs are prickly, you will poke a lot of innocent people before you get to shave. If your make-up is nonexistent, you will look like the worst version of yourself when you hold your baby for this first time…this is unacceptable.

*I’m just going to blurt this out quickly, in license plate fashion: do ur best 2 have a BM b4 u go 2 the hospital. You know what I’m sayin’?

*In the car on the way to the hospital, freshen up your make-up a bit. It is always my goal to still have on eye-shadow by the time I have finished labor. So far, I’m three for three.

*When you get out of the car, take a deep breath, put your shoulders back, hold your head high and smile. This is it, little Mama. You are about to walk into a very new situation that brings out the ugly and whiny and unfashionable side of many a woman. But not you…you’re going to make friends with your nurses and doctors, you’re going to be brave and strong and kind and you’re going to show the grace of God to everyone you meet. And you’re going to make your husband and your Mama so proud. There’s only room for one baby in this situation, and that’s the one in your stomach.

*Don’t waddle into the hospital. Be a woman! Walk like a woman, one who is completely unaffected by the giant blob that is her belly. Don’t let the baby rule you. You rule the baby. You rule!

*Regardless of what lies ahead for you (inducement, c-section, spontaneous labor), you’re about to have to rid yourself of your clothes. It is the next step after checking in and signing a few papers. You’ll be taken to a room and you’ll be handed a hospital gown. Now…I’ve had three babies so far and a seeming gazillion doctor’s appointments in the process and I still have to ask which way the blasted thing goes on. Since it is fresh on my mind, I’ll tell you – the ties go in the back. The only thing you’ll have on besides that lovely gown should be a ponytail holder on your wrist for when your prettily-groomed locks start to drive you insane. And the nurses should offer you a bag for your clothes – if they don’t, ask for one. Then your husband won’t drop your undergarments on the floor when he picks up your clothes later on.

*Just a gentle word of advice: don’t be afraid. Something crazy happens when you enter the inner recesses of a hospital; some say you lose your dignity there, but really, it all-of-a-sudden becomes no big deal for all those folks to see…you. Just keep in mind that this is what they do, all day, every day. It’s not so embarrassing, after all. Mortifying, yes. Embarrassing? Nah.

*That i.v. cartridge they just taped to your arm? It has a needle underneath it and it will be in your arm for awhile. I just thought you should know (nobody told me, okay? Not all of us are geniuses).

*You are probably also hooked up to the “contraction machine” and have a “baby’s heartbeat machine” (not all of us are wordsmiths, either) wrapped around your belly. When you have to go to the ladies room, simply unplug the cords to the contraction machine, drape them around your neck like a fancy scarf, unfasten your “blood-pressure-taker cuff” and rise from your hospital bed. You and your “i.v. tower on wheels” can go to the bathroom as many times as you need to, unless you get an epidural (in which case your business will be handled via catheter, which is frankly awesome).

*And now the fun really begins. You’ll hear lots of talk about “dilation” and “centimeters” and “efacement”…none of the above should be posted on facebook or any other social media outlet. The only updates the general public really want to hear are “”We’re about to have the baby!” or “We’re having the baby!” or “We had the baby!” Which leads me to my next tip…

*What happens at the hospital stays at the hospital (unless you have a blog?). You’re going to walk through the most vulnerable and…organic…experience of your life over the next couple of days, and will find yourself freely discussing things with your nurses and your husband and your doctor that you previously would never have talked about out loud. Thus when the first visitor comes to see your baby, you might be tempted to tell them the entire nitty-gritty of what happened last night, a play-by-play of your most exciting experience. One word: Filter.

*You are in charge of what happens at the hospital. If you are unsure about something, ask questions first. If you don’t feel right about something, discuss it with your doctor. No matter what anyone has told you, you’re not as dumb as you look.

*For some reason – most likely due to the exposure of your backside – once you don a hospital gown, the hospital doesn’t let you walk anymore. You will now be toted around in a wheelchair while your husband walks behind you like a goober carrying the mountain of stuff I told you to pack. Sit in the chair, adjust your gown and then extend your legs so the nurse can put down the foot rests. Put your feet on the rests and inconspicuously tuck your elbows in. Your nurse may be gifted at drawing blood…but she may also be a really bad driver.

*Of course your hospital may be different than mine, but you will probably be settled into a delivery room by now. Unless this is also your recovery room, hold off on bringing all your luggage in just yet. All you need here is your husband or birthing coach, your pony-tail holder and some forms of entertainment and/or comfort. Movies, books, music, cards, knitting, Play-doh…and don’t forget your camera! You wouldn’t want to miss having a picture of yourself with the swollen hands of a linebacker holding your screaming fresh out o’ the oven ooey gooey baby. Seriously.

*Don’t loudly crunch on your ice chips like a hillbilly, even if you are miserable.

*Now this is my own special trick, a happy accident, if you will. If the pain from your contractions becomes suddenly great and your epidural is not yet available, ask for a little drug called Stadol. Your nurse will inject some into your i.v. and in three seconds you will be in Neverland. It makes for some delivery room hilarity, and if you’re lucky like I was, will grant you some much-needed sleep before active labor begins. You can thank me when your Stadol wears off and you are no longer singing loudly like a drunken sea wench.

*If you have to berate your husband when the hard and heavy contractions come, do so quietly, hissing through your smiling teeth. Compare it to kicking him under the table at a restaurant. To anyone watching, you will look collected and brave, all while you are saying to the man who got you in this position “I hate you, you toad.”

*In all seriousness, grit your teeth, grin and bear it. You’ll get compliments like “your pain threshold is extremely high!” and “I can’t believe how tough you are.” Which will make you feel like a rockstar or a pioneer woman. (However, your husband might look at you strangely, like, “…but…why did you cry when you got that papercut last week?” Hiss at him again if he does).

*Epidurals are our friends. That said, I did just watch Anna Duggar of 19 Kids and Counting do a natural, at-home birth and it was beautiful and brought me to tears. So…whatever floats your boat.

*If you do get an epidural, here is the run-down: You need to ask for your epidural about 30 minutes before you really need it – it takes awhile for the anesthesiologist to gather all the paperwork and make it to your room. Once they arrive, your husband will have to leave the room. You will sit on your bed with your legs hanging over the side. You will arch your back and try to hold very, very still. There will be lots of fiddling around back there, then the big needle, and then you’re done. In my opinion, the worst part about an epidural is that they use something akin to duct tape to hold it in place. After you’ve had your baby and are prepping for recovery, they rip that tape off in one fell swoop. Ouch. But really…we’re avoiding the curse of pain-in-childbirth here…what’s a little duct tape?

*Now its just a waiting game. Nurses and doctors will periodically check your *rhymes-with-mervix* and tell you things like “you’re doing great” and “you’re progressing” and “we’re almost there!”…

*And then, they’ll check you again and you’ll expect to hear another encouraging word, but this time, they’ll nod and raise their eyebrows and spring into action. It is time to push! Your quiet room will come alive out of nowhere – your doctor will be there with several nurses, some prepping the little incubator where your baby will be cleaned up, some surrounding you and propping your legs up in those lovely lady-like contraptions (not very fashionable, but you can’t very well have a baby with your ankles crossed). Your nurses will keep track of your contractions and will tell you when to take a deep breath and prepare to push. No worries – you will be gently coached through this entire process and you’re going to do great!

*A note on pushing. If you have an epidural, it is really difficult to figure out where to push because you can’t feel anything. But don’t worry…you’ll get it figured out. Just maybe not on the first or second try.

*When you are told to push, really focus on that one thing. Don’t be self-conscious or think about what you look like or if you’re doing it wrong…just zone in and work on pushing that sweet little baby out. You’ll bear down for about ten seconds at a time and then will be given a break in between contractions.

*Now for one second, throw fashion to the wind, because when that blessed final push takes place and your baby lands in your doctor’s hands, you’re going to want to make a fool out of yourself…and that is perfectly alright. It is a moment of extreme physical and emotional relief, and if I remember correctly, I make some sort of involuntary yelp everytime.

*Wait patiently while the staff cleans up your baby, measures and weighs him/her…and I’ll warn you now, you’re probably going to think they’re being too rough with the little darling, flopping him/her about, scrubbing them down, all while your baby is squalling at the top of its lungs. But in no time at all, they’ll have that little bundle all wrapped up and will place it in your waiting arms. Enjoy this moment. Whether you remembered your camera or not, you’ll never forget it.

* And this may seem like small stuff compared to what we’ve just discussed, but I just have to interrupt. Don’t take your favorite blanket to the hospital. You might lose it in the delivery room and be very, very sad forever.

Golly, that was exerting. And exciting! I am sure that I left a lot of useful information out, but I hope this helps give you first-timers a sneak peek at what is ahead.

Any other words of delivery advice from our experienced deliverers? Did I forget anything? Leave your comments below. And stay tuned, pregnant ladies…phase 3 will be posted in the days and weeks to come!

*It should be noted that Mrs. Gore is not a doctor or a nurse or an expert or intelligent. Her advice should always be heeded at your own risk.

Gid and Rebekah meet Baby Betsie for the first time.

Mrs. Gore’s Tips for Fashionably Surviving a Hospital Stay, Phase 1

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First-time Mommies-to-be, you’re going to want to print this one out…

I wouldn’t yet compare myself to Michelle Duggar when it comes to birthin’ babies, but after popping out an infant once every two years since 2007, this ain’t my first rodeo. (I’ve been wanting to say that for a long time…it wasn’t as gratifying as I thought it would be).

And so, young mothers, I thought it important to share with you the knowledge I have gleaned about how to survive – and thrive! – during your hospital (I’m about to make up yet another “vacation” word!) lay-cation, separated into 3 easy-to-follow phases. Today we will review Phase 1, “the packing phase,” which will include the literal packing of your suitcase, as well as tips for how to arrive at the hospital in an organized and peaceful state of mind. Let us begin.

~

The packing phase…

* Don’t be a dummy about this. To fashionably survive at the hospital takes some major preparation, and since you don’t really know when or where you will go into labor, you need to start planning and packing well before your due date.

* Purchase a sweet new nightgown (at a real people store, not a maternity one) – with buttons in the front if you’re planning to nurse – and hang it in your closet. Every time a lady has a baby she deserves to come home to a clean, fresh, pretty nightgown. Do not take it to the hospital. I did this on my first go-round and was surprised that my hospital room was more like a busy dorm room than a private hotel room. Believe me, you won’t feel comfortable hanging out with your doctor and your relatives in your lacy little gown and robe. Pants are a much better choice, especially when you are awkwardly and painfully crawling in and out of your hospital bed.

* Find a nice compact suitcase on wheels and start filling it with the following, about a month before your due date:

  • 3 or 4 new magazines that you haven’t peeked at, at least 2 of them of the fashion sort. It is so nice after having a baby to open up an issue and, saying good-bye to those final dreary months of pregnancy and your too-short maternity shirts, dare to dream of a new body, a new haircut, a fresh make-up palette, a real pair of pants! It is one of my traditions to read In Style the day after I have a baby…
  • a good book that you’ve never read before – it’s wise to have a good distraction on hand should you have a scheduled delivery, as a “schedule” at a hospital is tentative indeed (and for good reason – emergencies always trump plain ol’ inducements, and rightly so). If you are not a reader, bring a portable DVD player and some favorite movies or playing cards or your I-pod…you get the drift.
  • you’re going to have to read between the lines on this one because there are some things I just can’t talk about and some words I just cannot bring myself to say. So…buy a package of your favorite brand of lady products, the one kind…you know the long, flat kind, not the other…pointy…kind. They need to be for the heaviest you-know-what imaginable. Buy some for the house, too. And the car. (Just kidding, it’s not that bad. It’s worse. Just kidding. No, I’m not. Just…you’ll be okay.)
  • Travel-size bottles and packages of all your favorite toiletries. Buy as much of your bedtime and morning routine products as possible ahead of time and have them packed in your suitcase, along with a list of what you will need to throw in at the last minute, i.e. glasses, curling iron, etc. The benefits of doing this ensure that you will not pack in haste and wind up at the hospital without your favorite moisturizer, plus you can just dispose of all those travel-size products before you leave the hospital and not worry about unpacking a million things when you get home. Everything will be where you left it in your bathroom and you can head straight to your shower without rifling through your suitcase first.
  • A bottle of HPA Lanolin and a few nursing pads. I didn’t know the need for things like this existed, but a sweet lady brought me a care package to the hospital that included both. Trust me, you’ll need them.
  • A pair of slippers, a pair of flip flops (for the shower), and two or three pairs of socks. Clean or not, it feels gross to walk barefoot on hospital tile floors.
  • Packages of your favorite gum and candy, as well as your husband’s.
  • Cash for the vending machine…if you’re lucky like I was, your local hospital vending machine might just surprise you with the first package of Hostess Dunkin’ Sticks that you’ve seen for YEARS, at just $1 a package. So you’re going to need at least $6.
  • A coming home outfit for baby. This will be a keepsake outfit, so choose wisely…
  • A blanket for baby. This should also be a keepsake. I’m of the mind that each baby should have at least one special blanket that was not handed down from brother or sister.
  • What to Expect When You’re Expecting. It really does answer all of your questions, and you’re going to have lots of them, even after reading this most-helpful blog post.

*As your time gets closer, days before your due date, start packing or setting aside the following:

  • 2 sets of your favorite comfortable lounging clothes, something you will be comfortable sleeping in and entertaining visitors in, with a very comfortable waistband. Key word: comfortable. But not shabby, or else this post would be titled “Mrs. Gore’s Tips for Surviving a Hospital Stay.”
  • Several sets of undergarments.
  • A decent going home outfit. Keep comfort in mind here, too – your body is going to be a little out of whack – but also know that you might find yourself in several photographs on this day. You’ll regret it if you dress like a cotton headed ninny muggins.
  • Camera, camera charger, video camera, video camera charger, uploading cord and laptop. Because people want to see pictures of the baby the minute it lands in the doctor’s hands, and you really shouldn’t keep your public waiting. Or you might have one of those new-fangled telephones that can take pictures and send them to the “internets”. So take that thing and whatever you need to make it work.
  • A carseat. You can’t leave the hospital without it.

*And on your way out the door, don’t forget:

  • Your own pillows, if you are particular about things like that. I take 3 feather pillows – two for me, one for Mr. Gore. He always protests until he sees the plastic couch that will be his home for 2 nights, and then, he says “Thank you, Mrs. Gore.” Well…in my head he does.
  • The last of your toiletries…make-up, corrective vision stuff, toothbrush, razor…whatever you need to make the hospital feel like home and to ensure that you look semi-dazzlingly beautiful in all your pictures.

*Oh, and one last thing – if you have other children at home, pack the following for them in your hospital suitcase (aside from the separate bags you’ve packed for them to take to Grandmother’s house):

  • A box of animal cookies for each child, and other packages of treats like raisins or fruit snacks. It will give them something to sit down with for a bit when they come to visit you and see their new sibling, and they’ll see that Mama is still caring for them, even as a hospital patient. When children come to a hospital room, the room shrinks fast. They will most certainly need a distraction, and nothing works better than food.
  • A couple of movies, just in case they are stuck in the waiting room with their grandparents while you are having the baby. You can lend them the portable DVD player that you packed for yourself.

*You will also need to make sure your husband packs his bag. It doesn’t really matter as much what he brings…like your wedding day, no one really will notice he is even there. But he will need day clothes and something comfortable and modest to sleep in. He also will need books, magazines and the like. It’s your job to tell him this or else he’ll be bored in your room and talk to you, interrupting your perusal of In Style.

*That’s a lot of stuff, isn’t it? And it’s very important that you pack it well, in as small a suitcase as possible. The nurses don’t want to be tripping over your bags and you will not enjoy carrying armfuls of stuff or having your husband go back and forth to the car, which could possibly be 1/2 mile away from your hospital room.

And other random pre-hospital preparations…

* Birthing classes are profitable with pregnancy #1, plus they are so hilarious and awkward. You should go.

*Take advantage of the supernatural nesting phase by cleaning and organizing every last corner of your house. You will not have the time or the energy when you get back home, and frankly, you won’t really care anymore about the junk in your filing cabinet or the dust behind your entertainment armoire. This is a once-a-pregnancy opportunity – don’t miss it!

*Pray for your child. When you feel worrisome about what is ahead or have a sudden urge to panic, place your thoughts instead on your sweet baby and lift him/her up to God. Your health and the health of your baby is very important and prayer-worthy, but bundled up in that tiny little baby’s body is an eternal soul that, more than anything, needs the grace and mercy of God – this should always be the focus of your prayers. Nothing is more urgent or important.

*As tempting as it is to focus on yourself and your aches and your pains and your discomfort and your looming monumental delivery, take some time to focus on your husband. The world tends to revolve around a pregnant woman, and it is easy to become entitled. But your husband still has needs…needs that are doubly hard to meet when you bring home an infant! Putting yourself aside and heaping love on him will honor God and will do wonders for the atmosphere of your home…aaaand it might just ensure that your happy man will bring you flowers at the hospital, along with dessert for every meal. I’m just sayin’…

*Pre-register at your hospital, if possible. Then you won’t have to fill out pages of paperwork when you come in to have the baby.

*Eat. Eat all you want. A whole watermelon…6 slices of bacon…a sandwich and chips at midnight…these last months of pregnancy are your last hoorah! Enjoy it. But don’t tell your doctor I said so.

~

Holy smokes! I’m exhausted now….so how about we all go take a nap? Which is the last (and mega-important) step to fashionably surviving at the hospital. Get your sleep, Mama. You don’t want to arrive at the hospital on the wrong side of the bed!

~

Any other words of packing advice from our experienced hospital laycationers? Did I forget anything? Leave your comments below. And stay tuned, pregnant ladies…phases 2 and 3 will be posted in the days and weeks to come!

I delivered a baby; Mr. Gore delivered flowers, Dr. Pepper and key lime pie.

…I Will Trust in Thee

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Saturday, I cried – I already told you about that – and my husband prayed over me and God was kind to me.

Sunday, God continued His kindness by doing an amazing work in my spirit, tranquilizing my usual worrisome tendencies. Our prayers that night were more worshipful than self-centered and it is a night I will always remember and cherish. Instead of continuing to plead with Him to flip our baby girl, we were just so thankful that He had given us peace. But after our “amens” we laughingly remembered to add, “Oh yeah…and please still flip her if you want to!”

Monday?…Monday, May 30th, 2011 was…BIG. I guess I should just start at the very beginning.

As we drove to the hospital to begin pre-op at 9:30 a.m., I was astounded at the calmness that still sat over me like a big giant blanket of dumbness. I told Chris “I feel like we’re just going to the grocery store or something, not to my first surgery!” I didn’t know whether I should thank God for my indifference and count it as grace or try to work up some kind of understanding or anxiety over what was about to happen to me. My wise Mr. Gore instructed me to accept the gift and be grateful.

Before long, I was completely prepped for the c-section; an ultrasound had proven that our stubborn little girl was still breech. Both doctors were there, the anesthesiologist had given me the run-down, I even had my sterile hairnet on, and, while excited that I would finally get to hold my baby in the next hour or two, I felt my heart begin to sink just a little that our prayers about having another vaginal (I promise that’s the only time I will use that word) birth would not be answered.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t understand the benefits of what was about to happen. I truly wanted what was best for our baby, and I knew that I was in good hands and that a c-section would pose little threat to either me or my child. Neither did I feel like I had the right to self-pity while so many women out there would have given anything to be in my place, looming surgery and all, and when so many babies have real health issues and simply being “upside-down” would be a coveted position indeed.

Still yet, my disappointment was acute…

Here’s why. While I don’t really adore being pregnant, and I could well do without the messiness of labor and delivery, there is nothing I love more than that final moment of pushing a baby from the quiet recesses of my womb, hearing its protestant cry split the air, feeling the seven or so pounds of human flesh exit my stomach…I feel so incredibly blessed to have experienced this miracle two times, but I just couldn’t help but be sad that I might never get to experience it again.

And so when Dr. Tramonte came in with news we did not even expect to hear, that there was a doctor on hand who was willing to try an External cephalic version, a procedure in which he and another doctor would place their hands on my abdomen and push and maneuver the baby around with the desired result of flipping her into place for vaginal (oops, promise that’s the last time) delivery, I was more than willing to give it a try. If you are interested in hearing more about this, it really is fascinating: http://www.webmd.com/baby/external-cephalic-version-version-for-breech-position.

And it felt as archaic as it sounds. Meaning…I should have said “yes” to the offer for drugs. It was like my stomach was a ball of dough that they were kneading into bread. Underneath, it felt as though they were scrambling up my organs like a jigsaw puzzle…I would not have been surprised to see my gallbladder next to my lungs and my liver somewhere close to my ear. But, praise God, it worked. The roomful of doctors and nurses – some just interested to watch a version for the first time, some on hand in case of emergency – sent up a sort of cheer as she flipped into place right there on the ultrasound screen for all to see…and on every wall of my stomach for me to feel.

The only problem was the foot that remained by her head. She was in an awkward, one-legged diving pose, completely bent in half. The Ecv-performing doctor recommended that I go home and wait to go into labor and hope that she would eventually draw her foot back up and refrain from flipping back into her preferred upside-down pose. My heart sank yet again. I was ready to meet her today. My bags were in the car, my other children were taken care of, and most of all, my niece Abigail, celebrating her 7th birthday, was counting on me to have her cousin before the day was up.

It just goes to show how important it is that your family doctor also be one of your greatest advocates. Dr. Tramonte, who had already given up his Memorial Day to see to it that we had a surgeon he recommended and then chased down the doctor and set up that miraculous Ecv at the very last minute, now began doing all he could to see that we could be induced on this day. He’s a fast worker. Within minutes, we were in a delivery room, waiting to begin inducement, now just praying that that little bitty baby foot would move out of the way! Just one little foot! If it presented itself before the head come delivery time, it would be back to surgery for us, back to the c-section we were all trying so hard to avoid.

And I was torn…should I go ahead and praise God for the successful Ecv and claim victory over the threat of this c-section? What if I counted on Him to see us all the way through this and we still had to be rushed down to surgery in a much more hurried and uncontrolled fashion than we would have that morning? What if I trusted Him all day only to be disappointed at the end of the night?

Over the next several hours, I thanked Him, I questioned Him, I pleaded with Him, I thanked Him some more, I begged Him…

And as my body began to go into serious labor, the doctor who performed the Ecv came to take a look at our baby’s position. Her foot was still there. He calmly reached in and tweaked those little toes. Her foot withdrew to find its mate. He broke my water. He nodded at me with a twinkle in his eye and assured me that all would be well…

Two hours later, I pushed my baby girl from the quiet recesses of my womb, I heard her protestant cry split the air, I felt her seven or so pounds of human flesh exit my stomach…

And my heart screamed the following words from the rafters: “WHY are You so good to people like me?!” A sob left my throat and I knew again, for the 10,435th day in a row, that God is no puppet-master in the sky. He is no distant “man upstairs”…

He is a master story-teller, taking each moment of each day and weaving it into a reflection of His glory and goodness. Our day could have ended a thousand different ways, tragically even, and it would not have changed His goodness or the fact that He cares for us. But the way He did choose to end it completely and absolutely knocked my socks off, sealing something deep and eternal inside this faithless woman.

There is so much more to share about our Baby Betsie and the time leading up to and following her birth. But this post isn’t about Baby Betsie or her Mama or her Papa. It is about the God who creates little babies and gently cares for their Mamas and Papas every single step of the way.

You can trust Him. Trust me.

When I Am Afraid…

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Written on Saturday night, before one of the most phenomenal Mondays of my life…which, of course, will be shared in great detail in the days to come…

I cried a little today.

And not the humorous kind, or the hormonal whackadoo kind. The real kind.

The “I’m scared” kind.

It seems like my husband, without even seeing my face, could sense that my sniffles were real and not of the caricature nature, for within seconds his arms were around me. I was supposed to be napping as he laid beside me reading his book, but I wasn’t sleeping. I was thinking…

Next week, unless Upside-down Girl (that’s for you, Charlotte!) has done a little flip in my stomach by herself, I am scheduled for my very first c-section, my very first surgery, my very first non-participatory delivery of a baby. I know, I know, the risks are about as high as having my tonsils removed, but you have to understand who you’re dealing with here.

I have a somewhat morbid imagination. If you see me staring off into space with a sad look on my face, or my bottom lip sticking out, you can almost be sure I’m daydreaming (or daynightmaring?) about a loved one’s funeral, or writing my obituary, or picturing how dismal life would be without this person or that person or that person. On most days, I coast, not giving too much thought to mortality or eternity or even reality. But anytime a big event is on the horizon…a c-section, an airplane ride, a trip that separates me from any of my family members, a monumental birthday, answering the door…I inevitably experience these sobering moments where I come face-to-face once again with the fact that my life is nothing but a shadow…a vapor…

And that hurts, by golly.

This part of my personality is probably my greatest curse and struggle. It tempts me to be anxious, to have a lack of trust in a God who has been nothing but faithful to me, to waste time on the cares of tomorrow…

But it has also been a blessing, as strange as that sounds, for it glaringly illuminates my weakness and sinfulness and causes me, every time, to run helpless to the only One who can actually do anything to help me out.

And what does He do? He takes care of me again…

You see, I believe whole-heartedly that He created those arms of my husband’s to comfort me in times such as these, and that He equipped my Mister with a character that motivates him to put away his book when his wife is crying and to pray for her. I believe that He is the One that caused Gideon to wake up and come crawl in bed beside me as I was typing this post, at the very moment my heart was yearning for the human touch of my most beloved son. And He is probably the One who inspired our dear friends to come to our house on this night to make supper for us and distract us with the sweetest Christian fellowship.

If God would be so good to comfort me today, in the small stuff, what do I have to fear come Monday?…

Nothin’ a’tall.

Small Elephant Remembers…Rebekah (2)

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Continued from Small Elephant Remembers Rebekah…

May 14, 2009

Just over two weeks until Baby R’s due date and I think in possibly one week I will have tied up all those loose ends ~ putting together the bassinet, cleaning out all the cars and closets ~ new mothers just instinctively want the nest to be clean! She has been poking my right side with a foot for about two weeks now, reminding me that she is there and healthy and strong.

May 14, 2009

On Sunday we celebrated Mother’s Day and I was shocked to see Abigail come walking in with a gift that I didn’t see coming ~ my very own American Girl Samantha doll, who was retired by the company in December (something that still irks me…don’t even get me started!). I always wanted a Samantha doll as a little girl, but we didn’t even discuss the possibility ~ they were obviously too expensive ~ and back in December when she was being retired, I wasn’t yet aware that I was having a baby girl so I didn’t end up purchasing one…but apparently, my Mom did. So there was much to this gift, but I was still mortified by my reaction, an awkward dance between laughing and crying with my face buried in my cotton napkin. Over a doll?! And the entire family just happened to be there to witness it. I’ve never lost control like that in front of the whole lot of them, but they all seemed to enjoy my discomfort so fully, I cannot quite bring myself to regret it.

May 27, 2009

We found out at our appointment today that Doctor Tramonte will be out of town until Tuesday, so we have all decided on unofficial bedrest, hoping to put off delivery until then. I know it sounds stupid, but I also don’t want to miss Abigail’s birthday tea party.

May 30, 2009

Today was my due date, but thank God I was able to celebrate Abigail’s 5th year without interruption. I even made cookies (while sitting in a chair)!

May 31, 2009

I am not going to church today. Not moving at all, actually. I was a little disappointed to go past my due date until Amy reminded me that now my baby girl might have a pearl for her birthstone. Good thinking, Amy!

June 1, 2009

One more day until Doctor Tramonte comes home and then I am getting UP! It’s a shame we like our doctor so much.

June 2, 2009

We made it! No more bedrest. And now I am feeling so large, so tired of it all, so…dejected, deflated (and inflated!), etc. etc. etc. Mom had breakfast in the oven when I woke up, starving as usual, so I grabbed a baggie with leftover donut holes from Abigail’s birthday party just to tide me over. I took them outside to the rocking chair so I could watch Gideon and Abigail, who had stayed the night with us, play. Now I won’t say Abigail woke up bossy, just…assertive. She was setting up a grand show on the corner of the porch and had rehearsed her lines and had Gideon in his place…everything was just so. I had just popped the last donut hole into my mouth when Abigail looked at me, hand on her hip, and said “Lesley, do you want to do something’?…instead of just sittin’ around, lickin’ your fingers?” My mouth was too full to answer her so I just shrunk in my chair.

June 5, 2009

I am in mental and physical agony!!! Surely she will come today.

June 6, 2009

Here it is, exactly one week after my due date and I have not gone stark raving mad! But tomorrow we are scheduled for an induction, and Lord willing, I will be bringing home my second baby. My first daughter. Today was dubbed “Happy Gideon Day” as it was his last to be an only child. Children are such a blessing ~ I am glad to fill the house up with them! Pregnancy, however, stinks like a gut-wagon.

June 7, 2009

I woke up to shower and fix my hair at 6:00 a.m. (I’m always terrified of having to go to the hospital dirty, or with prickly legs, or without a touch of make-up on…) and Chris called the hospital at 7:00. I have been told to eat a light breakfast and wait for them to call me back. The good news is we’ll be in the hospital on Monday, Kenneth Peterson’s volunteer day! (He is one of my best senior adult friends, married for 60 years!).

11:00 a.m.

Apparently the hospital is short-staffed today and there have been a surprising number of emergency C-sections. We’re still waiting for them to tell us to come.

4:30 p.m.

This has been the longest, worst day of my life. I haven’t been able to sleep, I have a headache, I’m starving, and we haven’t even started for the hospital yet! Chris just called them again and the sweet lady who has been dealing with us all day said “God bless her, let her eat!” So I am going to have a sandwich.

5:00

Seriously, ten minutes after I finished my sandwich, they finally called and told us to come…which means I will probably be throwing up this sandwich before the day is up. But who cares?? We’re on our way!

6:00 p.m.

H0w different this experience is than our last. We calmly checked in at the hospital, were taken to our room, and I am just sitting in bed waiting for them to shoot me up with some Pitocin. Chris’s Dad and Stepmother are on their way and Momma and Daddy will come after church.

7:00 p.m.

Chris and I are watching Titanic on the television. I wish the nurses would wait until commercial breaks to check my vitals.

10:30 p.m.

Everyone has left the room for the night and so I am trying desperately to get some good sleep before active labor begins. However, my back is killing me and the most obnoxious song from one of Gideon’s movies is blaring through my head. I am getting so frustrated and I’ve pictured myself ripping all of these tubes off of me and just running through the hallway screaming. If I just had two more inches of crazy in me, I probably would do just that. I think it’s time to ask a nurse for some help.

4:00 a.m.

I am just coming to after receiving my favorite drug, Stadol. The nurse injected it into my IV, and two seconds later, I was floating, back pain gone, Casey Jones song out of my head. I do remember Chris being gone when I looked over and so I just started yelling for him. “Chris!!” No answer. “Chris Goooooore?…where arrrrrre you??…” I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that I should stop yelling and that I probably sounded like a lunatic, but the drugs made me careless. I yelled for him for what seemed like 20 minutes and when he finally came into the room, I said in a drunken-s0unding drawl “Well there you are! There’s the man that I’ve been lookin’ fer!” He said I sounded like a liquored-up lady who might work on a streetcorner. I slept for about four hours and now it’s epidural time! I’ve got this labor thing so figured out.

5:30 a.m.

Doctor Tramonte is here, God bless him! It’s almost time…

10:14 a.m.

Three pushes and reluctant Rebekah Sunday is here! When I heard her sweet cry, the tears just popped out of my eyes. And when I held her in my arms, I fell in love. She weighs 7 pounds and 14 ounces of sweet baby goodness, is 21 pretty inches long…and the best part about it? We get to keep her forever. Day 1 has already been heavenly…

10:30 a.m.

I just threw up my sandwich.

June 9, 2009

Rebekah is a doll of a baby. She has the tiniest little high-pitched damsel-in-distress cry and she sucks on her two middle fingers. I want to eat her for breakfast. We’ll be taking her home where she belongs as soon as the doctor gives us the okay. I can’t wait to get to know her better.

June 2009, at home, via facebook

I think the hospital made a mistake and sent us home with an angel instead of a baby…

Small Elephant Remembers…Rebekah

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Rebekah’s incubation, birth and first days were recorded in the 2009 edition of The Harry Herald…

“Help! The Bun in My Oven is Overdue and I’m About to Expire!”

(from the author who brought you “Help! There’s a Bun in my Oven and I Don’t Know How to Cook; one woman’s journey to Motherhood in diary and recollection)

August 2008

Chris and I are thinking it might be time for another baby.

September 2008

Well the discussion is over…I’m with child!

September 2008

Mom and I went on a weekend trip to Dallas to go shopping. She does not know yet that I am pregnant and it is increasingly difficult to keep mum about it. We shopped at Anthropologie (my favorite store in the world!!) from 10:00 – 2:oo, accidentally missing lunch (by two hours?!), and sadly, I now find that the mere thought of that store makes me nauseous. I can’t visit their website or even look at a catalogue without feeling my stomach turn. Who would have thought that Anthropologie would give me morning sickness?! Perhaps this aversion will save us some money…

October 13, 2008

I’m a bit queasy this go-round. No actual sickness, but no spring chicken, either. I can’t drink or even smell coffee, oh woe is me! I have been taking more time to cuddle my firstborn and to heap love on him and play with him, for I know in the coming months there will be a wall between us ~ my enormous belly. So far I am not showing and only last week told Mom and Daddy. I hoped to conceal my secret a little longer but I was tired of pretending that I felt good and was especially tired of trying to suck my belly in. On Wednesday we will announce our good news to the church!

November 2008

With Gideon I craved broccoli and mustard (not together, mind you). This time I am eating a lot of ham and cheese sandwiches smothered in mustard and piled high with potato chips. YUM! I like the flavor so much, I’d take it in a chewing gum!

December 2008

I am most happy to report that the nausea has flown away for the winter! I am feeling so much better (although Gideon and I suffered the most terrible colds all of last week) and I must say this pregnancy has been better than the last, in that my vanity and my emotions have not taken such a hit ~ there is just not time enough for such things ~ hours of introspection are no longer a luxury (or a curse?), although I did have a small breakdown today…I had just prepared a delicious lunch but as I was settling down in my chair to eat it, I dumped an entire glass of soda on my lap, soaking everything, including the new “birthweek” shirt my Mom had bought me. I said “Momma, help!” and just started sobbing. She helped me up, but I just stood there and wept, so she pushed me in the direction of the bathroom, got my clothes, washed them, cleaned up the chair and five minutes later had me sitting back down with an identical lunch in place, this time safely on the tray in my lap. She hugged me and said “Lesley, there’s just no use crying over spilled Coke!” She’s right, you know.

December 2008

I can shop at Anthropologie now and I can drink coffee! And I have discovered a new craving ~ pastries. I could eat glazed donuts for every meal. I want one now.

January 2009

Well we finally made it to the doctor. Everything looks great on the baby, but Dr. Tramonte said something really funny after looking at the ultrasound…he said the thinks it might be a girl. There is no way.

February 11, 2009

It really is a girl! Fancy that! Here I’ve always imagined myself surrounded by boys, and already I am wrong. To be honest, I am at a loss! A boy you can imagine – his hair will be simple, he’ll be rough and tumble, he’ll eat a lot, but a girl?! Who can tell? I only know this…she is a blessing and a gift from a very loving Father. I cannot wait to meet her and see how He has put her together…if indeed the ultrasound read true…I wouldn’t be much surprised even now to discover this is a boy after all!

February 18, 2009

My doctor called me crazy today. After nearly fainting in the choir Sunday, we made an appointment to discuss some discomfort I’ve been having in my chest. It doesn’t bother me until I am in bed, and then I think I am dying. So we talked to Dr. Tramonte, who told me not to be too concerned, and then during his prayer for us, he asked God to be with us “even when we’re being a little bit crazy.” Chris snickered and made fun of me all the way home. But truly, this is why I like my doctor! He, like my husband, does not indulge my anxieties.

February 2009

Apparently word has spread about my “heart condition” and everyone at church is now concerned about me. Our resident Southern belle, Mrs. Annette Jones, called to ask how I was doing and Mom shared with her what the Doctor said on Wednesday, that nothing was wrong except that I might be a little bit crazy. In her irresistable Texas drawl, Mrs. Annette said “Well you just tell her she needs to get a second opinion…he’s right! She is crazy.” How I adore that woman.

February 2009

Ha! Turns out I might not be crazy after all. I had to have an EKG, an echocardiogram, AND a chest x-ray to rule out any chance of heart problems. It was probably the most anxious I have ever been about anything, contemplating my pending death and crying over the thought of anyone else planning Gideon’s birthday party…but it felt SO good to hear that nothing was wrong. The peace of mind was well worth the thousands of dollars we spent to determine the true cause of the squeezing in my chest…acid reflux.

March 2009

Abigail (nearly 5 years old now!) came over to the house today, and as she walked past me, patted me and said “How’s your belly?” very much like one might say “How’re ya doin’ today?”

March 2009

I made my Mom giggle when I came stumbling into the living room close to midnight to “check on my pastry” from Panera Bread…I just wanted to make sure it was wrapped up nice and tight, that’s all.

March 2009

Chris and I were in bed last night when I begin patting my belly. It sounded like a drum, beating through the bedroom! He exclaimed over the apparent hollowness of my stomach, causing me to dissolve into laughter. So tonight when we were about to go to sleep, I patted his belly, only to find that his, too, beat like a hollow drum. I began to mock him for having a cavernous stomach just like mine when he insisted that mine was much louder. “It is not!” I protested and began to beat on my belly just to prove it to him. I’ll never forget the resounding congo noise that loudly echoed through the room, proving that Chris, again, was right. We just cracked up. I hope we didn’t alarm the baby.

April 13, 2009

I cried a lot during my first pregnancy. I’ve cried a little during my second, but I have been more prone to hysterical laughter. At least ten times I have laid in bed laughing with tears pouring down my face. My stomach and face feel like they’re going to crack ~ it really is terribly uncomfortable! One night I began saying words like “fart” to oh-so-proper Chris and the more I said, the more I laughed. He just looked at me like I was an idiot. Tonight I started laughing about the whole birthing process and I just could not stop. Chris put his earplugs in and rolled over.

April 25, 2009

I’m just a girl who cain’t say no, so when Miss Barbara asked me to sing a solo in church this morning, I said yes. Chris was shooting daggers at me with his eyes, because he has heard me say time and time again that singing right now makes me feel like I’m going to fall over. We just decided to deal with it and do what we could to ensure that I was cool and comfortable that morning, turning the air down really low; I had no idea how hot-natured I had become and had to laugh at what our precautions did to the rest of the congregation. I was feeling great and for the first time in months did not have to use my bulletin to fan myself the entire service, but when I turned around in my pew to see who all had made it to church, I noticed that everyone was apparently freezing. Even my Daddy was hugging himself for warmth! Sorry, everyone, but I’ve not had such a happy Sunday morning in a loooooong time.

to be continued…

Small Elephant Remembers…Gideon (2)

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…continued from “Small Elephant Remembers Gideon”

March 13, 2007

I was in “our wing” of the house getting ready for a shopping excursion to make purchases for Amy’s baby shower when some strange and unexpected things began to happen to me. Nothing to rush to the hospital for, but nothing to ignore either. So after I fixed my hair, I packed everything we might need at the hospital…1 suitcase of clothes for me, Chris, and the baby, a bag of toiletries, our DVD player, 3 feather pillows, 5 movies, CD’s, books, crossword puzzles, dominoes, cards, and of course, the camera. I took my little blue suitcase into the living room and said “I think I should take my bag, just in case something happens and I’m stuck in Tulsa without it. But I don’t want to talk about it.” Mom thought that would be a good idea, but then watched with her eyebrows raised as I began to bring all of my other bags and pillows in, piling them all up in the living room. And of course we “talked about it”…all the way to Tulsa!

10:00 a.m.

So I have poured over “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” looking for answers that I have already read over a hundred times, and I come up empty-handed every time. All I can find is that with the symptoms I am having, delivery could be an hour…or weeks…away. Very helpful.

12:00 p.m.

Mom and I just ate at Hideaway Pizza ~ I had a mini cheese pizza, a Caesar salad and a huge glass of Dr. Pepper. Make that two glasses. Those strange and unexpected symptoms are still happening, which means…I am still hours or weeks away from delivery. ??? But at least my tummy is full.

4:00 p.m.

Chris decided to meet me here at Matt and Kaci’s house in Tulsa after work. We’re going to stick around for awhile and see if anything happens before we return to the boondocks. I cried like a baby when I saw him, for I have been in a tumult all the day long and now he can be in charge.

7:30 p.m.

Kaci just got home from work, and we have decided to go to Scott’s in Bixby and have a hamburger. Then I think Chris and I will go home because nothing is happening, and I’m beginning to feel quite silly for causing such a stir.

8:00 p.m.

MY WATER JUST BROKE at Scott’s Hamburgers, waiting in line to make our order!!! All I have heard during my entire pregnancy is that this kind of thing only happens in the movies and that I shouldn’t even worry about it happening. But it wasn’t as embarrassing as I feared it would be ~ rather quite dramatic and exciting ~ and it will be great in The Harry Herald. I actually said that to Chris. “You would think of that.” he said.

8:20 p.m.

I will never forget our drive from the hamburger place back to Matt and Kaci’s house to fetch our car. My brother’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel and I just kept apologizing about their leather seats. Sorry ’bout that…but so cool to share this experience with my brother and sister-in-law.

8:25 p.m.

I changed clothes at Matt and Kaci’s…a lot of good that did. Apparently when your “water breaks” it’s not just a one-moment deal…it is the gift that keeps on giving. Everytime you stand up. Everytime. Every. time.

8:30 p.m.

Chris and I just got into our car and realized that the gas tank is empty. I guess he was a little distracted on the way here. So we have to stop and get some gas and then on to the hospital! I wish Jerry and Amy were here and not in Kentucky…

8:40 p.m.

I am having my first ever contractions, about five minutes apart, and I know now why people say “Don’t worry…when you are having them, you’ll know.” Yep. I know now – it doesn’t feel like gas, it doesn’t feel like a sharp pain. It feels like…a contraction. They don’t really hurt yet – it just feels like my belly tightens up – but I’ve heard they will hurt eventually. Yay!

9:00 p.m.

After accidentally going to St. John’s hospital first (true story!), we arrived at Hillcrest. Chris and I were both shaking with anticipation and adrenaline and were kind of clumsy and scatter-brained as we unloaded the car. We walked to the front desk together with the gigantic load of things I had packed – the receptionist asked when my inducement was. “Oh, I’m not being induced,” I told her. “My water just broke.” She looked surprised. “Well aren’t you calm?” she said and then looked at my baggage. “And so well-prepared!” Of course we are.  I never go anywhere without my make-up and an extra pair of shoes…

9:15 p.m.

Matt and Kaci were not long behind us and came in to our prep room where I’m getting hooked up to all kinds of machines. Kaci told me that Matt said with a bit of awe “My little sister is about to have a baby…” I don’t think my ultra-conservative brother ever dreamed he would be such a large player in tonight’s events, but I really wouldn’t have it any other way. God writes beautiful stories.

9:30 p.m.

We are settled in to a very comfortable room. My parents are here. Chris and Daddy are watching a basketball game, but have been courteous enough (after I cleared my throat very loudly) to mute it. (I can’t stand fan roaring, even on a non-labor day). We were lucky enough to get a BIG corner room, but I didn’t gloat so I wouldn’t jinx my labor. Chris would call that superstitious.

11:00 p.m.

Chris was just rubbing my back for me and exclaimed “Good grief, Lesley!” When I asked what was the bother, he silently plucked something off of my back and held it up…it was a tick. Country….Bumpkin! What kind of redneck would the nurses have thought I was if he had not found that first?!

March 14th, 2007, 12:00 a.m.

This is getting kind of painful. Chris is “hoo-hoo-hee”-ing with me and I keep using his arm to bury my face every time a contraction hits. During one contraction, he sweetly asked me if I wanted him to rub my back. “I don’t want you to talk.” I replied, my words muffled in his arm. Then I began absentmindedly rubbing on his shoulder and he said “Oh, so you’re going to rub my back?” I said “Shhhhhh.” When the pain was unbearable, I lost control of my breathing exercises and just writhed in pain. Chris encouraged me to breathe. My mature response? “I don’t want to. I hate breathing. I think it’s stupid.”

12:15 a.m.

The nurse said it might take 45 more minutes until my epidural and asked if I might like something to take the edge off of my pain. I said “Yes!” before she even finished her sentence, and in less than five, I was floating. Chris said I laid there with one eye barely open and a ridiculous smile on my face as I met the doctor on duty.  I don’t even remember getting my epidural (the part I dreaded most) and slept for a few hours. When I woke up, I couldn’t feel a thing! Who said having a baby is painful? This is a breeze!

4:00 a.m.

Dr. Tramonte, a blessing from the Lord, is here. He was to leave on a mission trip to China in just two days and we thought all along there was no way he would be here to deliver Gideon into this world. I am so glad that one of the first people our little boy will meet is a godly young man who has devoted his life and his work to the Lord and has spent time praying for our son. We’re going to start really working soon at having this baby…let the fun begin!

5:20 a.m.

So apparently the epidural is great in that you don’t feel anything at all…but there is also a problem with it. You don’t feel anything at all. So when the nurse says “Push!” and you obey, she ends up laughing and saying “The only thing you just did was flex your neck muscles. Try again.”

5:30 a.m.

It’s like a party in here. The lights are dim, there are three nurses cracking jokes with me, Dr. Tramonte is chatting with my Mom and Chris…but every so often when a new contraction comes along, we all straighten up and focus. They surround me in a bit of a semi-circle while coaching and encouraging me and I do my best to do what they say. It’s the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in, becoming instant comrades with this group of strangers in what would normally be a very vulnerable and embarrassing capacity. But tonight, we’re a team, all working toward one goal…bringing Gideon Michael Gore into this great big world.

7:06 a.m.

He’s here!!!! What an amazing feeling to have a human being go from the inside of my belly to my arms in a matter of minutes. His hair is red. And so is the rest of him! I’m a bit overwhelmed right now, but I feel like I’ve really accomplished something in this life.

9:00 a.m.

Chris just brought me a Sausage McGriddle and a cup of coffee and I think it is the best meal I have ever eaten in my life, the first thing aside from ice chips to reach my stomach since lunch yesterday. We’re already having visitors, which I love. And there is my little baby Gideon, wrapped up like a burrito and snoozing away right next to me. I’m so glad he was courteous enough to be born and get us to our new room before Regis and Kelly came on. I like this kid already.

9:00 p.m.

My brother Pete and his wife Jennifer just came to see us. Pete held Gideon for awhile and then went to lay him down in his bassinet. “Do I just put his head on his pillow?” he asked. The “pillow” he was referring to was a plastic package of wet wipes. Pete has a lot to learn before he gets to baby-sit for us.

March 15, 2007

We think Gideon will be an entertainer someday. The nurses brought him in to show us how to care for his lower regions and he decided to do a trick. He blew a poop bubble. That’s right, a poop bubble. Just like a bubble you would blow with bubble gum, but it wasn’t pink. Despite our amusement, Chris and I stepped back, lest it should pop.

March 16, 2007

I had no idea that the little plastic IV cartridge taped onto my arm this entire time was actually connected to something underneath my skin. The nurse went to remove it so I could shower and out came the longest needle I’ve ever seen. I looked in slow motion at Chris, who was watching me very quietly from the edge of his seat across the room. “Did you know that?” I mouthed. He nodded slowly, like he had been harboring a great secret. If I hadn’t been so determined to get that shower, I would have passed out on the spot.

March 17, 2007

We have checked out of the hospital. For lack of a better word, this feels plumb weird to officially be in charge of the baby that is sitting in our backseat. He belongs to us?! Chris is driving verrrrry slowly. And I kid you not, Spring has sprung since we came here on the night of the 13th. The grass is green, flowers are blooming…and I’m bringing home my new baby!!

March 17, 2007

We’re home! I am definitely seeing the world with new eyes, and what a feeling it was to walk down that sidewalk and bring my baby boy into the very house that I came home to as an infant. March 13th and 14th will forever hold one of the most incredible memories I possess ~ I already find myself, just four days later, revisiting them much as I do my wedding day and honeymoon, with joy and pride and, to be honest, a bit of sadness that I cannot remain in them but must continue on and perhaps face sadder days and less fond memories. How I wish I could cling to days like this forever and keep all of my loved ones around me, safe and sound. But I will not dwell on anxieties, for there is much joy to be had today. Indeed, there is a miracle sitting in my lap at this very minute. I made him a person, and he made me a Mother…I think we’re going to be a great team.