Sensory Processing Disorder

I'm going to start out by saying that it's pretty difficult and anxiety-provoking for me to write this post, but I also feel like it will be healing and motivating for me.

Sam has always been an amazingly sweet, aware, and conscientious kid. When he was 2 days old, he spent a crazy unusual amount of time awake because he just wanted to stare at the world around him. I could tell, even then that he was just taking it all in. By about 6 weeks old, Sam didn't want to be held when falling asleep. I would try to cuddle with him, but even as a tiny baby, he did not appreciate it. When he was a toddler, I began noticing that he had some funny quirks. For the most part, he hated getting his hands dirty (which I expected a toddler would enjoy). And by hated, I mean that he would often throw large fits or be unable to continue the activity if his hands got something on them. Noises, especially sudden noises, were hard for him. He also had to have things a certain way: If he put his jacket on, it needed to be zipped and his hood needed to be on his head. If he tried to do something and made a mistake, he had a very difficult time recovering and would usually just give up. There were things that became a normal part of our every day lives that he needed for consistency and comfort. I didn't think much of any of this. It all seemed manageable and normal. And we believed he really was the easiest, most self-contained child.

As time grew on, I saw Sam in relation to other children his age and began to notice that those children didn't share his "quirks" or "sensitivities." Other kids didn't cover their ears the entire time they were in a public bathroom, asking over and over if the toilet is going to be loud or crying, terrified if the hand dryer went off before I could warn about it. Other kids could sit through the somewhat crowded and noisy story time at the library without completely losing it after 5 minutes and begging to go home. Other kids didn't spend an hour or more a day driving cars over "bumps" in the carpet, over and over the bumps. Again and again. We put him in tumbling classes and while other children did the activities and listened to the teachers, Sam would have meltdown after meltdown, screaming most of the entire class. The second time around, he had the same teachers, and they remembered Sam. He was "that" kid. Then came his baseball class which just ended recently. While other kids were running and trying to catch the ball, Sam spent one entire class covering his ears, afraid the coach would blow his whistle again.

No matter what I did to try to help him, it seemed like Sam was not going to ever get past these difficulties. After a while, I became discouraged and realized that this might actually be something he needed outside help with.

I asked Sam's pediatrician about seeing an Occupational Therapist who may be able to help me with some of the concerns I had about Sam. I needed to know if my concerns were warranted or if I was just being an overprotective mother and making something out of nothing. His pediatrician fed into my fears as she told me that she felt like Sam was just fine and that we probably didn't need to go that route with him. So I left it alone for a while. It was always there, sitting in the back of my mind, and every time another meltdown happened, I would feel terribly hopeless.

Then this last summer, I spent some time with my family in Myrtle Beach. My sister Meagan, whose oldest daughter was diagnosed with Autism and then subsequently diagnosed with Turner's syndrome, has been around the block as far as Occupational Therapy is concerned. During one conversation I had with her, she encouraged me to get Sam evaluated. She had seen him interact with his world for a week and she felt like he could benefit from some of the processes her daughter had gone through. She later told me that she was nervous to say something, since you never know how that will be received, but it was actually incredibly validating for me to have that conversation with her.

During Emerson's next well-check, I went back to their pediatrician and told her I would like (read: I was demanding) a referral to an Occupational Therapist for Sam. She referred me and we began the process.

Leading up to the first appointment, I had an incredible amount of anxiety. I just knew that we would get there and she would look at me and say, "I really don't know what you are so worried about. Sam is a good kid and you are just crazy to think there's a problem here." I lost some sleep the night before because my anxiety was so high.

But then we got there. Sam's therapist, Cindy, brought us back to a room full of toys, a swing, and a small stair case. Sam busied himself playing with some toys while Cindy and I talked. As she began asking me about Sam's behavior, I felt my anxiety start to fade away. It seemed like every question she asked was completely about Sam. Every potential struggle she mentioned seemed to fit our normal, day-to-day life to a "T." I felt like for the first time, someone really understood my life. When Sam tried to get onto the pendulum swing the first time, it moved out from underneath him and he came over to me whining that he couldn't do it. Cindy turned to me and said, "Does he always give up that easily?" To which I replied an enthusiastic "Yes." She just smiled, started writing some stuff down and said, "Ok, we can work on that, too."

Since that first appointment, we have been back to see Cindy 4 times. Each time she gives us more tools to use at home with Sam in helping him deal with his world.

I have learned that the struggle Sam deals with is called "Sensory Processing Disorder" or SPD. It's really hard for me as a mother to think my child struggles with a "disorder" of any kind. But in some ways, it is nice to have a name for his challenges and a reason for some of the things he does. Since learning more about this disorder, I have become even more aware and compassionate towards Sam's needs. What I saw a unfortunate "quirks" before, I now see as sensory processing difficulties.

I'm so glad to have learned about all of this now so that Sam doesn't have to struggle with it alone. Now I know that if he is getting overwhelmed, it isn't just because he wants to be obstinate or whiny, he is dealing with something that's incredibly difficult for his brain to process. When he doesn't want to play with shaving cream, there is a reason. It's not just because it's messy. It's also scary because his brain registers it as being painful and overwhelming.

I'm so excited to know more, now, of how to help him through moments like this. It's also amazing to me how excited I get about his small accomplishments. The other day, he played with cooked spaghetti, something he would never have done before because it would stick to his hands. He was really nervous about it at first, but eventually, he played with it and actually had fun.

It's incredibly validating to be able to go to his therapist and say, "He played with cooked spaghetti!" and have her get just as excited as I am about it. 

We still have a ways to go and from what I understand, SPD is something Sam will always deal with. He will always be more sensitive to outside stimulation than other people around him. But hopefully because we are working with him now, he will have a much easier time managing it all.  

I'm hoping to continue blogging about my process with Sam's diagnosis and the various things we do to help him. It's hard to stay motivated about our home program because progress is usually very slow but hopefully by putting this out there, I will continue to be motivated and do what I need to do to give Sam the best chance I can.

We love our Sam boy more than words could ever express. He is sensitive, kind, caring, loving, and unashamedly emotional. I love that he feels with his whole heart and connects so strongly to his world and those he loves. He has so many gifts and talents and the world is lucky to have him in it. This is just one thing that makes living a "normal" life harder for him, but it's definitely not what makes him who he is. I can't wait to see the person he becomes and I'm excited to be able to help him on that journey.

In his favorite jacket, zipped up, and with his hood on. :)

February Update

Once again, I've let a while go by without updating my blog. I dunno why it's harder for me these days. I would love to start giving more updates about what our family is up to and the various goings-on of ours lives. So I guess I'll start there!

Christmas was awesome and exhausting. We got to go to my little brother's wedding in Texas and it was really fun getting to see my family and hang out with them for a while.

After Ethan's wedding, we drove back up to Utah and spent Christmas as my grandmother's house. By Christmas day, we were so ready to be home after over 2 weeks of travel, so we said "peace out" and headed back to our cozy little house. It's funny how much I missed our house while we were gone.

Since then, we've been settling back into a new semester for Isaac. It's his last semester of his undergrad career and we are both very excited. It's taken Isaac a while to get here and he's done some really incredible things. This semester he is working as hard as ever, taking 18 credits, working part time, and founding the BYU Humanitarian Club. 

(At the first, official BYU Humanitarian Club Meeting)

I sometimes just sit back and look in awe at his awesomeness. But really, though. He's pretty amazing. I don't know how he does it all.

This semester (when do you stop thinking in terms of semesters?) is a lot more relaxed for me. I finished teaching my online course for BYU-Idaho in December and I am done with that forever. I understand why it would be appealing to some people, but it was definitely not the thing for me.

It was interesting during the course of 2 semesters of teaching, to learn that just because I "can" do something as the strong, powerful, competent woman that I am, doesn't mean that I "have" to do something or even "should" do it. There will always be many good opportunities out there, but I have to weigh the costs of everything. That class was taking way to much time during my day which made it harder for me to play with my boys and be the type of wife/mother I wanted to be. So it's gone now, and I'm loving it. 

I have been putting more energy into my private practice and developing myself more as a therapist, so that has been refreshing and intimidating all at once. There are so many directions you can chose to go as a therapist that really the possibilities are endless. What theory do I chose? Do I chose more than one? Should I get certified in anything, like play therapy, EMDR, etc? How many hours should I work each week? Is everything I'm doing even legal? lol But one day at a time, my identity as a therapist is beginning to take shape. I'm slowly becoming more confident when I tell people what I do. I'm slowly realizing because the possibilities are endless, I can do some awesome things with this career. It's a good feeling to be headed in that direction.

Beyond career work, I have been training for a half marathon. Maybe someday I will write a blog post about my running journey because I feel like it needs its own post. But for now, let me say that I have discovered a part of myself through running that I never knew existed. It's a safe haven for me from my never ending struggle with anxiety. I'll just leave it there for now.

So overall, things are headed in a positive direction. Isaac will graduate at the end of April and then we'll be moving across the country to Chicago. We are both very excited for that move, but we are dreading the fact that we will have to leave Isaac's family behind. Our boys 100%, completely, and totally adore Isaac's family. I don't know what we will do without them. It will be quite an adjustment all around but adventure awaits and it will be excited to see what comes our way. 

Hopefully I can begin updating more regularly and keep up to date on all of our adventures.

Sam drew a person (on the right) for the first time the other day. He made it a "grumpy" person and thought it was hilarious.

At our favorite children's museum. 

Behold, the handmaid of the Lord

This Christmas season, it has struck me more and more how amazing Mary, the mother of Jesus, was. The more I think about her and all that she experienced, the more I am blown away by her faith and dedication.

We know that Mary was a chosen woman, but as I sift through her experiences in a practical way, I realize just how chosen she was.

To begin with, an angel comes to tell her she will become pregnant with God's child. Even with her Jewish background, having heard of the prophecies of some type of immaculate conception, this would have been crazy information to digest. Like ok, I'm 12-14 years old, I'm not married, and I'm going to be pregnant with God's child... But Mary, like the amazingly graceful woman she is responded with an entirely practical question, full of curiosity and openness, "How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?" The angel explains a little of the process to her (as much as you can really explain these things) and then comes one of my favorite scriptures in all of the LDS cannon. 

"Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word." 

That's it. The angel leaves and Mary is left with her thoughts.There are a million other questions I could think to ask such an angel. Questions like "But wait, when people find out I'm pregnant, none of them are going to believe that I'm a virgin. What am I going to do about that?" or "Joseph is going to be furious when he finds out. What if he chooses to have me stoned in the square? What about my family? What will they think of me? What will happen to them?" 

Mary's incredibly humble response to the declaration of this angel speaks to the depth of my heart. Oh that I could have the faith like that of this woman. I wake up every morning with a lack of faith wondering if I can get through my day without yelling at my kids or wondering if we'll have enough money to make it until Isaac graduates. These things seem so trivial to what Mary went through, yet her faith was mountains above where mine has ever been. 

Even just looking at the practical logistics of this process. The fact that Mary was coping with a surprise pregnancy, but not any surprise, THE surprise. She didn't even make the choice to have sex and still got pregnant in a time of society where she could be stoned to death for doing so out of wedlock. She then has to process the fact that she will soon become the mother of the prophesied Messiah, the Savior of the World. No pressure or anything, you're just going to be the mother of the most perfect and exalted being who will ever walk the earth. While adjusting to her new situation, Mary then travels to see her cousin, Elisabeth, during the end of her first trimester to the middle of her second trimester, a visit which must have been incredibly validating for both women in recognizing the miracles they had both experienced. We don't know anything about how smoothly Mary's pregnancy went (one would hope that God had mercy on her and she had a fairly simple, healthy 9 months), but just imagine if she experienced morning sickness or back pain or swollen feat while dealing with everything else.

She comes back from Elisabeth's house (after half a chapter of her praising the Lord out of faith and humility) and then Joseph finds out. So here we go. This was such a pivotal moment for them both. How terrifying that must have been for Mary to go through, knowing the her life and the life of her precious baby were now in Joseph's hands, a man she hardly knew. 

Because Joseph was engaged to Mary, after finding out that she was pregnant with a child that wasn't his, he had 2 options in society at that time. He could have her stoned to death and then thrown off of a cliff, shaming her whole family for the rest of the foreseeable future, or he could "put her away", which in essence would make her a menace to society and shame her whole family. Mary would live out the rest of her days unable to be wed to anyone, unable to be a member of everyday society, always with the mark of an adulterous woman. Oh, and Joseph would still receive her dowry. The scriptures say that Joseph was a just man, so stoning felt really harsh to him. He opted for the second, more subtle approach and was "minded to put her away privily." Imagine Mary's heartache while all of this is going on. I don't know how much information she had about Joseph's thought process here, but how do you even explain something like this to your fiance, a stranger? 

Then we learn about the true character of Joseph, another man I admire so much. Instead of following all of the societal pressures of the day (which inevitably were present), he listened to the angel about Mary. He took her to wife and went to Bethlehem to pay his taxes. I can't imagine what his friends and family thought about him taking a pregnant woman to wife when she wasn't pregnant with his own child. What faith Joseph must have had during this time as well.

Then Mary rides a donkey for many miles at 8-9months pregnant. 8-9 months pregnant and she's riding a donkey across the desert. I can't imagine how sore every part of her body must have been. 

She gives birth to our precious Savior in a lowly stable, no medication, no accommodations. And then people from all around come to visit. In the typical manger scene we see lots of different people all there at once, but we know that actually they all came at different times; the wise men likely came when Jesus was a toddler. Today it occurred to me that I really hope for Mary's sake that there weren't a bunch of random people all dropping by the stable to bring gifts and well wishes right after she gave birth. Can you imagine having just given birth in an unfamiliar, dirty place with your new husband (whom you don't even know that well yet) and then having a bunch of people come by to see you and your baby? That sounds awful to me. I hope Mary had some time to bond with her brand new baby all on her own and that she and Joseph were able to have some of those precious moments together before more people came. 

I could go on and on about how Mary must have felt at different points in Christ's ministry, leading to the time when He made the ultimate sacrifice for us. What an amazing woman. I aspire to be just like her. When we hear talks about motherhood in LDS church meetings, we often hear references to the 2,000 Stripling Warriors because their "mothers knew it." Which is great, but it drives me a little crazy sometimes because as I've studied women in the scriptures I have come across sooo many more references to strong, dedicated, humble, graceful, faithful mothers. Mary is definitely at the top of my list of incredible examples of what it means to be a faithful woman and mother. 

I hope that as I continue to study her example of grace and humility, during times of trial or difficulties, I will find myself leaving behind my fear and pride, instead humbling my heart and saying "Behold, the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word."

Meaningfulness

I'm so Type A sometimes that I think to myself "I haven't written on my blog in forever. No one reads it anymore. Plus, I would have to go back and do a summary of all of the things that have happened in the last year before I could write an actual post." So each time I thought about writing a blog post, I became too overwhelmed with my self-imposed rules and didn't write.

Lately, I've been trying to shift my thinking in a lot of ways. I'm studying a new theory for therapy called Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). I have had a ton of success using this with my clients so far and it really resonates with my theory of life. What's been especially great about it, though, is the self-work I get to do while I learn. I truly believe that no theory in therapy will work if you haven't done the work on yourself first.

ACT focuses primarily on mindful, purposeful living. In other words, don't let your dumb thoughts and dumb feelings/ anxieties get in the way of living your life the way you want to live it. So with that long introduction, I'm not going to allow my own insecurities about blog writing to prevent me from writing. Writing is an outlet for me and it's always a healing process when I need it to be. No dumb thoughts should get in the way of that.

This year has been a whirlwind to say the least. But when I look back on the 4 years since Isaac and I first got married, I can't look at even half of one and say "Well, that was nice, calm, and uneventful." Since getting married, I got pregnant, Isaac's father passed away, I started grad school, Isaac started school, my dad was diagnosed with cancer, I had a baby, Isaac applied to BYU, I graduated from grad school, I got pregnant again, we moved to Provo, Isaac applied to internships, I had another baby, started my own therapy practice, and starting teaching at BYU-Idaho, we moved to Chicago, and moved back to Provo. There's 4 years summed up into one long, run-on sentence. I am beginning to come to terms with the fact that "busy" is just Isaac and I's pace of life. I'm ok with that though, I don't do well when I'm bored.

In the midst of the busyness, though, I sometimes get lost. I lose my focus on the things that matter the most like my faith and testimony, or being a mother to my little boys.

Lately, managing my 2 very needy children has been incredibly overwhelming for me. I had this idea that adjusting to 2 children happened fairly quickly- give it a few months and I'll get into a grove with it all. While that was true for a little while, I forgot to incorporate the adjustment that comes with each new stage my kids are going through. Sam is done with the 2's, but headed into his threenager year. Emerson is done with "newborn" neediness, but it headed into toddlerhood. With these transitions, I find myself completely spent most days. For the first time since being a stay at home mom, I wake up in the morning with a feeling of dread in my stomach as I think about the day ahead of me. And that feeling of dread leads to feelings of guilt and saddness as I think about how moms "shouldn't" feel this way, how I should be happy because my life is so blessed and I have so many wonderful things to be grateful for.

One thing I have been learning through ACT is that happiness is very different than meaningfulness. We live in such a "feel good" culture that when we don't feel "happy" we think something must be wrong and look for every way we can to change it. The reality is though, happiness is not an indicator of a life worth living. Victor Frankl (author of A Man's Search for Meaning) talked about this concept in reference to his experience in Natzi concentration camps. Obviously, no happiness was to be found while he was a prisoner there. How could he be happy in such a place? But regardless of his level of happiness, he was able to find meaning and that's ultimately what kept him and others alive.

So as I think about my average day- the amount of bodily fluids that end up on my clothes, the never ending cries, whines, and yells, the hugs and slobbery kisses and the poopy diapers- I think I need to just stop and realize that though I may not feel completely happy throughout my day, I am doing something meaningful. Every moment I spend with my children is meaningful in some way because I am guiding them through this life. That meaning should be what I search for and then maybe happiness will come as an added benefit.

Emerson's Birth Story (Part 2)

After looking at several methods that would help prepare me for natural birth, I settled on Hypnobabies. To me, it seemed like Hypnobabies was the only method that would allow me to "train" for my birthing experience in a structured way. I liked that there were 5 weeks worth of lessons to complete, each with a lesson plan.

If you aren't familiar with Hypnobabies (I sure wasn't before this pregnancy), here's a little info about their method. Basically, they help you train your body to enter "self-hypnosis" and create natural anesthesia during contractions (or as "pressure waves" as they refer to them). During the 5 weeks of lessons, I listened to several different hypnosis tracks, similar to deep meditation tracks, that helped me train my mind and body to relax on demand. I liked having the excuse to meditate and relax for 30 minutes each day.

I was able to complete all 5 weeks of lessons before I went into labor and I was happy about that. So on Sunday, Oct 20, I went to church and all was normal and well. That afternoon I felt some Braxton Hicks that felt stronger than normal, but I didn't think anything of it. I fully expected to go to my due date or past my due date and at that point I had just started my 39th week. Around 7:30 that evening, I was doing the dishes and all of the sudden, I felt a trickle run down my leg. I thought to myself "Wait, was that...?" And then I went to the bathroom, just to make sure. By the time I got to the bathroom, I knew. Nothing was stopping that flow of liquid, it was coming and I knew what that meant. I looked in the mirror and let it process for a moment. "My water just broke. I'm having a baby. Holy crap, I'm having this baby." I felt my stress rise as I realized that because my water broke before any contractions had begun, this labor may be more complicated than I had envisioned. More than anything I wanted to avoid Pitocin or any non-natural labor inducing substances because I knew that would make my natural labor more difficult. After noticing my stress level rise, I remembered my relaxation and hypnosis lessons and I began to consciously relax myself, immediately stopping any stress or fear that was trying to creep in. I put on one of the affirmation tracks that state positive messages about birth and I began to pack Sam's overnight bag. I called Isaac who was at a meeting and got his voicemail. I wasn't in any rush to get to the hospital because I knew that there was a short window to get my labor started naturally before they would want to begin an induction. I also called my friend, Stephanie, and told her we would be bringing Sam over for the night. I told myself that if this was how my body needed labor to begin that was ok and everything would be alright. 

Isaac rushed home after getting my voicemail and was very eager to get to the hospital. :) I told him that I didn't feel rushed and that I would like to straighten up our house a little so it would be clean when we came home. He looked at me like I was insane and said "No, we are going to the hospital, I will come and clean later." haha I agreed to go ahead and make our way to the hospital though I gave him a bit of a hard time for being so anxious about it. 

We dropped Sam off at my friend Stephanie's house and she was very encouraging, saying that everything would be alright. 

We arrived at the hospital around 8:45pm and got checked in. Our nurse, Melanie, tested to make sure my water had actually broken (there was no doubt in my mind at this point) and sure enough the ph strip turned a bright blue. Melanie then checked me and I was only dilated to a 2. We talked about birthing options and she was completely on board with me going naturally and was familiar with Hypnobabies. I was really excited to get a nurse who was happy to help accommodate as much as she could in my birthing experience. She asked if I would like her to refrain from asking about pain level and I told her that I didn't think it would be necessary. True to her word, she never asked me to rate my pain or talked to me about pain at all. She was awesome. 

She called my doctor who agreed to allow me to walk around for an hour to get the labor started on its own. After an hour, we would check to see if I had progressed and go from there. So I began walking around. Let me just say, after your water breaks in labor everything is more fluid (see what I did there?). On one of the laps, we had to call the janitorial staff because my water just kept coming and there was nothing we could to about it. At this point, I had come to terms with the fact that there is no dignity associated with anything during labor, so I laughed it off and moved on. During that first hour, I felt some tuggings but no definite contractions.

Melanie checked me again and she gave me another half centimeter, saying I was now at about a 2.5. Honestly, I think she was just being nice and buying me more time. She said we could try walking for another hour and she also brought me a birthing ball. 

I walked for half the hour and sat on the birthing ball the second half. I was beginning to feel more steady contractions at this point and that made me really excited. 

Melanie hooked me back up to the monitors and checked and said I was at a 3 and because I was having more steady contractions she felt comfortable to let me labor for a little while.

Another couple of hours went by. I began to feel the contractions strongly after a while. I liked watching them on the monitors and was feeling pretty good at this point. I was so happy that my labor had begun on its own and no medical interventions would be necessary. I began using my hypnosis tracks to help relax myself through the contractions and that was really helpful. I can't say that it was painless for me, but being relaxed and unafraid helped me cope with the pain so much better.

Melanie came in again. It was probably around 1:30am at this point. She checked me and said I was about a 4.5, so she was going to take her break so she could be ready for when the action started. She told me I was doing a great job and waited to talk to me until after I was through with each contraction. She was such a great nurse. 

I remember watching her turn on the warmer above the baby station and put out some blankets before she left for her break. During the next difficult contraction, I thought to myself "My baby is coming! She turned on the warmer, that means he's coming!" That warmer got me through the next few intense contractions. 

 Then all of the sudden, things started getting crazy. The contractions picked up to about 30 seconds apart and became extremely intense. I turned off my hypnobabies tracks and just breathed through the contractions, letting all of my body and mind turn inward and just focus on staying relaxed. Isaac was super supportive. He held my hand and encouraged me through each contraction without talking too much. A few more really intense contractions happened and I began to feel discouraged. My body felt shaky and I felt light headed after each contraction. I began having cold sweats as well. I remember thinking that if I was only half way done with labor and this was going to go on for another couple of hours, I didn't think I could do it. (I now realize that I was going through transition and had no idea.)

I tried to stay positive and told myself over and over that my body was made for this and that is awesome. Then all of the sudden, during a really intense contraction, I began to push. It wasn't something I chose to do, I just did it. I can't describe how crazy that feeling is. I was so taken aback by this, I waited until another contraction happened to see if I would push again. Sure enough, I pushed through the entire contraction. Isaac had no idea what was happening so after that contraction was over I told him to call the nurse. I didn't have time to explain why because another contraction hit. Isaac, thinking I was just having a hard time with the pain, called the nurse and calmly said that we needed someone to come. After my next contraction of pushing, I felt so much pressure. I turned to Isaac and said "I'm pushing! We need the nurse!" Isaac looked at me with a panicked expression and said "I called, she's coming, she's coming!" Melanie came in and checked me and said "Oh! You're complete!" and ran back out of the room to call in reinforcements. It had only be 30 minutes since she had checked me previously. I had gone from a 4.5 to complete in 30 minutes.

After Melanie checked me and ran out, I had another strong contraction and pushed out Emerson's head. I looked at Isaac and said something like "He's coming! I just pushed out his head! He's coming!!" And then a final contraction hit and out came his shoulders and the rest of him... straight onto the bed. One of the nurses that had been called had just come into the room, put on her gloves, and ran to the bed as Emerson flopped out. She picked him up and began working with him and he began to cry a little. 

I was so excited to be done laboring and I felt so good. The pain just instantly stopped and it was awesome. I just kept smiling and laughing. 

4 or 5 other nurses, including Melanie, ran in and realized that Emerson was already born. They all put on their gloves and started rummaging through the cabinets trying to find everything they needed. The clamped his cord and began running newborn procedures on him. Melanie just kept laughing, saying "What the heck? How did that happen?! I just barely left you! And I didn't even hear you screaming!" haha All of the nurses were laughing and the one that came in first and "caught" him was proud of herself. It was her "first time" to catch a baby and she was excited that she got to experience it. We all laughed at how crazy that had all been. Then, the on-call doctor arrived. (In the time it had taken for Melanie to call him, for him to wake up and come down the hall, Emerson had been born.) He took one look at Emerson on the bed and said "Well... ok then." lol He stitched me up a bit and then went over to the computer to make a report. As he was typing, he turn and said "Wait, did you have a boy or a girl?" haha It was just such a surreal experience. 

My poor doctor didn't arrive until everything was already cleaned up and we were waiting to be transferred to the postpartum area. She apologized profusely and said that usually she has the nurses call when moms are at a 5, but since I was only at a 4.5, my nurse hadn't called her yet. And no one expected me to be complete 30 minutes later! 

After processing through that birthing experience, I realized a couple of things: 

1. I am so glad we had such a great nursing staff. They took care of everything. When birthing in the hospital, the birth experience really comes down to the nurses. Your doctor may make the final calls, but the nurses determine your experience. Ours were awesome and I was really grateful.

2. I'm so grateful I prepared for a natural birth. I realized after everything was said and done that if I had planned on getting an epidural during this birth, I probably would have requested it after Melanie told me I was at a 4.5. I would have wanted to make sure I was progressing enough that the epidural wouldn't slow progress, so a 4.5 would had been a good indication of that. But if I had requested it then, there is no way I would have been able to get an epidural in time. I would have gone through that half an hour completely terrified of the pain I was experiencing and it would have been a much scarier, more harrowing experience. But because I was already prepared for the pain and accepting of it, I was never scared. Even when the pain got super intense and I didn't think I could physically handle it anymore, I wasn't scared. I knew that this was part of the deal and that my body was just doing what it was supposed to do. That's what preparing for a natural birth had done for me- it had taken the fear out of the equation. Because of that, instead of scary and traumatizing, my birth experience was really cool. I was able to experience my body doing its job super efficiently and that was neat for me.

In the end, I don't feel like I love Emerson any more than I love Sam. My recovery has been pretty similar to the way it was with Sam (other than not having my legs be numb after I gave birth which was nice). Breastfeeding is going better with Emerson, but I have awesome lactation consultants to thank for that. So when I think about how I birthed Emerson naturally, it's not like I wear that experience as a badge of honor or find it at all superior to Sam's medical birth. Both experiences were so awesome and exactly what I needed them to be and I am really grateful for that. I feel like I was prepared for this birth by feeling drawn to natural birthing methods early on and I am incredibly grateful for that. 

It's kinda cool for me to have experienced both versions of birth and to realize the value in both of them. 

Now that Emerson is here and we've spent a lot of time snuggling, I am sad that I ever worried about bonding with him. He's the sweetest, most precious thing. I love him immensely and he feels like a missing piece to our family puzzle. This whole pregnancy and birth has been so different than I expected, but maybe that's the point. I learned to listen to the Spirit and be ok with the unexpected and I feel like I am stronger because of that. 

I'm so glad Emerson is a part of our family. Though, one of our family members is taking little more time to adjust. :)

Emerson's Birth Story (Part 1)

Even before I gave birth to Emerson, I knew I would write his birth story on my blog. Something about the way I experienced Emerson's pregnancy made me believe that his birth story would be worth writing. And I was right.

First, a little about my pregnancy with Emerson. From the beginning of this pregnancy, everything felt completely different than Sam's. I got pregnant a little earlier than we had anticipated, but was able to adjust to the new plans. Throughout the first trimester, I was physically healthy and rarely got sick, but I was an emotional wreck. I went through a round of pretty heavy depression which was completely unusual for me. I have experienced periods of sadness or heaviness throughout my life, but this was real depression. I felt unmotivated and upset the majority of the time. I felt alone and scared, but I had friends all around me and I had nothing to be scared about. I felt like this baby wasn't going to survive and went to every doctor's visit expecting terrible news. After I realized what was going on, I did some research and apparently pregnancy depression (not just postpartum depression) is fairly common and can be brought on by the hormonal changes in the body.

By the second trimester, my mood lifted and I was able to feel more like myself again. I still went through depressive moments, but it wasn't all-consuming. Mostly, I was excited to find out the gender of the baby because I knew, 100 % knew, that this baby was a girl. I had had various experiences, some of which were very spiritual and meaningful to me, that made me believe this baby was a girl. I was so sure I hadn't even looked at boy names and had begun buying girl clothes.

And then, we found out he was a boy.

If you know me, you know I have a VERY difficult time with unmet expectations or sudden changes. It takes me a long time to process through them and adjust. This was one of those times that was really hard for me. When the ultrasound tech said that it was a boy, I was floored. My whole world changed in that moment. I know that sounds dramatic, but that's how it felt to me. I had begun to picture a life with Sam and a baby girl. I had pictured doing her hair and having those mom-daughter conversations. I felt like I knew her and was beginning to anticipate who she would be. Then all of the sudden, she was taken from me and replaced with a stranger. Who was this boy? Since when was he the one inside of me, instead of this girl that I had already bonded with? What was I going to do with another boy? And what if this sweet girl never comes?

Needless to say, it took me a while to adjust. I cried for a few days and then felt completely guilty about it. I felt so ungrateful. I know so many of my friends who struggle with infertility or who have lost their sweet babies too early. I know that they would be happy to have any healthy baby, regardless of gender. And here I was, upset because my expectations hadn't been met. Why couldn't I just be happy that our baby looked healthy and we were being blessed with another sweet boy?

Eventually, I began to adjust. I started looking at boy names and I got all of Sam's adorable baby clothes out of storage. Even after accepting this new person inside of me, I couldn't seem to feel connected to him. I would try to picture him, get to know him in my head, and I just couldn't. With Sam, I had a pretty clear idea of the type of person he would be. I felt like I knew him before I met him. With Emerson, I couldn't even finalize a name for him. He was such a stranger to me.

This disconnect as well as the depression I experienced in the first trimester made me very concerned that I would not feel attached to Emerson once he came. I was afraid that postpartum depression would be a real issue for me.

After thinking of ways to help myself through this, I kept feeling like attempting a natural birth with Emerson could help. I didn't know why, but I just couldn't shake the idea. I had a wonderfully easy and smooth medicated birth with Sam. I had a voluntary induction right at 40 weeks, and I got an epidural halfway through the labor and slept through the rest. It was awesome and I loved it. So I was really surprised when I began to consider natural birth with Emerson. I guess part of it stemmed from feeling so out of control through the whole pregnancy. The prospect of having more control over my birth with Emerson lightened my spirits and gave me something to look forward to. I liked the idea of being able to actively prepare for it So I began looking around for natural birthing methods.

(Stay tuned for Part 2.)

Small Talk

Dear Checkout Lady,
         I met you last night as I was getting my groceries. I sat in line thinking about how glad I was to not have to bring my toddler shopping with me and how tired I felt from spending the day with him. When it was my turn in line, I began putting my stuff on the conveyor belt and you began scanning it through.
         Something you don't know is that one of my New Years Resolutions this year was to make an attempt at conversation with the cashiers any time I was checking out at a store. You see, I have a really difficult time with forced conversation or small-talk when it comes to strangers. This is a weakness of mine and it causes me a lot of anxiety. So this year, I decided to try to work on that weakness. I can't say my anxiety has gotten any better, but I can say it has gotten easier to strike up the conversation.
          Last night, when I met you, I became overwhelmingly grateful that I had pushed past my initial fears and started a conversation with you.
          I asked you how your shift was going so far (a line I've found is pretty safe to start out), and you told me that it was going well but that due to the fact you are 8.5 months pregnant, you were pretty tired. I immediately recognized this as a common-ground topic and proceeded to empathize with you. We talked briefly about pregnancy and our loss of energy. I talked about my "pregnancy brain" issues and told you about how just that day I went to get a drink of water only to realize that I had put a jar of peanut butter in the sink, instead of back in the cabinet.  You laughed and totally related to that.
           Then that moment of silence happened. That moment where my anxiety peaks because I either have to find some way to continue the conversation or give up on it altogether. I decided to press on and asked you something to the extent of "So with you being 8.5 months pregnant, I bet you're getting pretty ready to meet your little girl." You looked at me with a hesitant but pleasant expression and then you told me a little of your story.
           You told me that up until a few weeks ago you were 100% sure that you were giving your baby girl up for adoption. You had already selected birth parents and built a relationship with them. Then, 3 weeks ago all of that changed when the adoptive mom was able to conceive on her own and they backed out of the adoption. You talked about how now, you weren't sure what to do or if you could trust anyone with  your little girl, how maybe this was a sign that you are supposed to keep her.
           As you told me your story, I realized I had no idea what to say to you. I felt something I haven't felt since being a therapist. I was able to see your strength without even knowing everything about you. I saw you, not as a cashier at Walmart, but as a strong, worried young woman. And I felt such compassion and love for you. You told me about such a raw part of your life and I admired your candidness. You didn't tell your story to me so that I would feel sorry for you, you just told it because it was real life and you wanted to be real. I appreciated that and longed to keep talking to you, help you figure out your choices, and support you in a time when clearly your support system did not exist. I wanted you to see the strength in yourself that I could see in that small moment with you.
          Instead, you finished bagging my groceries and I told you something to the extent of "Wow, good luck with everything." You smiled and thanked me, and I left.
         I unloaded my groceries into my car thinking about the contrast between our lives. I was going home to a husband who loves and supports me and a toddler who thinks I am his whole world. I have boxes full of baby clothes in my bedroom, just waiting to be sorted and prepared for this new little one who is entering our family. This pregnancy has been hard emotionally for me, but not once did I have to question whether I was prepared to bring my baby into this world or whether I would be able to provide all of the things he needs. I thought about how differently this pregnancy would have felt if I had not known these things. Or if, at the end of the day, I didn't feel able to keep him. A surge of gratitude filled my heart as I realized how blessed me life really is. My life suddenly felt so simple and uncomplicated and I was grateful for that.
          Because I didn't get the chance to thank you last night and our paths may never cross again, I wanted to take this chance to say it all. Thank you, fellow pregnant woman, cashier lady. Thanks for sharing a piece of your life with me and helping me to realize how good I have it. Thanks for helping me further overcome one of my weaknesses and for showing me what can happen when you learn a little about people. Thanks for letting me see your strength. I hope someday, you'll be able to see that strength, too. And good luck with your decision about your precious little girl.
       
-Callan