Showing posts with label Baby Christensen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Baby Christensen. Show all posts

Friday, April 4, 2014

The Three 'Ps' of Parenting


Lilly was placed on my chest after she was born for some skin to skin bonding time.  She stayed there for thirty minutes.  When they took her off so we could both get cleaned up the nurse said, “Oh no, she pooped on you!”
And that was the beginning of a wonderful relationship!
Since then she hasn’t stopped popping on me.  One time her poop not only sprayed all over me, but also on my dry clean only jacket that was lying behind be.  She’s got good aim.  One time she had such a bad blowout it soaked her clothes clear up to her armpit.  I soon realized pooping wasn’t the only thing Lilly was good at.  She also had a knack for peeing all over herself in that couple seconds when the old diaper is removed from underneath her and the new one is not yet in place.  A favorite pass time of hers is puking all over me, even when I have a burp rag in place.  She still manages to get it on my clothes and down my back occasionally.  (It hasn’t ended up in my mouth yet, thank goodness!)
She even pukes on herself

Pooping, Peeing, and Puking.  Three things Lilly excels in.
Though parenting is messy it has its moments of laughter too.  Every day around 6 a.m. Lilly will wake us up to be fed.  Chris loves the morning smile Lilly gives him.  
When she’s done eating, Lilly will have a dribble of milk coming from her mouth, and sometimes milk is smeared all over her cheek and chin.  I can’t help but laugh.  When she cries she’ll make a sound that sounds like she’s saying “Mah.”  I know I shouldn’t find her crying humorous, but sometimes I do. 
One of her pooping faces

With these fun and exciting times also come those difficult times.   I know I can’t be the only mom who thinks she is incompetent to be a mom.  Wondering why God would call her to be one when she feels she is failing at least several times a week.  Yet God called me, and thousands of others to be mothers.  Some of us don’t have our own children here in this life, for whatever reason, but each woman is a mother to someone in some way.  And God didn’t leave us alone. 
He gave us Prayer, Patience, and Perseverance. 
I think the only time I have ever prayed more in my life is when I was on my mission.  I offer constant daily prayers up to the Lord to help me know how to care for my daughter.  I pray for strength to get through those nights when Chris is gone and Lilly is crying.  I’ve prayed in the middle of the night, in the middle of the day, when all I want is sleep and Lilly is wide awake.  I’ve prayed for the strength to get through each hour.  Though I’ve never had an angel visit me and calm Lilly, I have gotten through those difficult times as a mom.  I believe the Lord is with me even if I can’t feel Him with me all the time.
Even Lilly prays

I have had to work on patience my entire life.  For some reason when it comes to Lilly I am patient…for the most part.  I do have my moments of impatience, but overall I can handle her crying, I can walk around with her on my shoulder much longer than I thought I could, and playing with her isn’t a problem for me.  I know that each stage of her life only happens once.  I try to be patient during the difficult times because I know I’ll be blessed with the fun and good times.
I remember there were a few weeks when Lilly loved waking up at 3 a.m. and staying up until 7 a.m.  If my sleep schedule wasn’t off at that time, it certainly got off!  Then there are the several times when Lilly will go through several diapers in one changing because off all the peeing and pooping she does.  And I can’t forget those long evenings when Chris is gone to school and/or work when I’ve already had a long day and am exhausted.  During these times I know I need to persevere.  It’s more than just enduring.  Enduring is what I did as a kid when my brother would constantly pick on me.  Persevering is what I do when times are really tough as a mom.  I know that Lilly’s crying session will be over, that one day she’ll be potty trained, and Chris will have a set time he’ll come home from work to help me with the kids.  But for now I persevere. 
I have hope in my heart that the Lord will help me through the challenges of motherhood.  I have joy knowing I get to watch my daughter grow up.  I have peace knowing how infinitely she trusts me (for now). 
Though there will continue to be a lot of Pooping, Peeing, and Puking, I thank my Heavenly Father He gave me Prayer, Patience, and Perseverance
We love our little girl

Friday, February 14, 2014

A Lilly Story





It’s been three weeks since our precious daughter came into this world.  Time to share how that happened!

January 23rd 2014
7:30 p.m.
I started having pretty frequent Braxton Hicks (you know, those fake contractions).  I didn’t want to get my hopes up though.  I had had a couple days when I’d have Braxton Hicks for an hour, and then they’d go away.   I was pretty uncomfortable (due date was only three days away) and I just wanted my baby out.  I wanted to feel normal again, and most of all I wanted to meet our little son or daughter. 

January 24th 2014
2:30 a.m.
I woke up to a contraction hurting.  It wasn’t too bad and I fell back to sleep. 
7:30 a.m.
Every contraction hurt.  Though I could still get up and do things like normal.  Did I though?  No.  I sat in bed and worked on a blog post for my book blog and ate a cinnamon roll my husband brought me. 
10ish a.m.
I started keeping track of how frequent the contractions were.  They were consistently 5-8 minutes apart.  At this point I was thinking and hoping our baby was coming sometime that weekend.
4:00 p.m.
I had a doctor appointment at 4.  I told them I was having frequent contractions but they weren’t hurting really bad.  The doctor checked my dilation and said I was at a 2.4.  Don’t ask about the .4.  Chris and I thought that was weird and so did the nurses at the hospital later that night.
The doctor said I would probably have our baby that weekend.  The lady at the front desk said we should go home, get some pizza and watch a movie.  Pizza sounded yuk, but a movie didn’t sound too bad. 
By the time Chris and I arrived back at our apartment my contractions had gotten a little worse, but nothing I couldn’t handle. 
Chris had a chemistry test to take by Saturday (the next day).  I told him to go take it.  I was only at a 2, my contractions weren’t bad, and this was my first baby, which meant a long labor.  “Plus,” I said jokingly, “If anything does happen in the two hours you’re gone I’ll just get someone to go into the testing center to get you.”  We both knew once he was in the testing center he would be unreachable.  We weren’t worried.
He turned on Madagascar 2 for me and left.  
5:00 p.m.
My contractions started getting worse.  Where was Chris?  “It’s okay,” I told myself, “Just concentrate on the movie.”  My contractions were about 4-6 minutes apart at this point and lasted for 20 seconds.  I could no longer concentrate on the movie and was really tired of being alone for this whole labor experience.  Chris had been gone all day, first to school then work.  Before, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, but at this point I would have really liked some support, even if it was just a silent hand to squeeze.
A little after 5:30 p.m. 
I stood up during a contraction to relieve some of the pain and it felt like I had peed my pants a little (you know when you laugh so hard a little urine comes out?  I know at least some of you have had that happen to them).  Hmmm…had my water just broken?  If it had I didn’t want to be standing over the living room carpet.  Into the bathroom I ran. 
Oh yeah, that contraction hurt really bad and the pain wasn’t going completely away, and I was missing my favorite part of the movie! (“If I only had a day to live I would invade a neighboring country and impose my own ideologies on them.”  “Well that’s easy for you to do, you’re a king”). 
By this time I was crying.  I was in a ton of pain, and I had no one—I was all alone. Chris was unreachable.  We had a plan of how I would get a hold of him in case I went into labor while he was in class or at work, but we didn’t have a plan if he happened to be in the testing center. 
I texted my mom to tell her that I thought my water had broken.  She called me immediately and asked me some questions.  By this time it was hard for me to talk during contractions.  She told me to call my midwife, which is what I was about to do before she called me. 
Because I had tested positive for Strep B Group, Rachel, my midwife, told me to come to the hospital ASAP so I could get on the antibiotic right away if my water had really broken. 
What to do now?  I didn’t have a car or a husband. 
5:50 p.m.
I called our neighbors/home teachers and asked if they could take me to the hospital.  They went out and warmed up the car right away.  I grabbed the hospital bag and went out the door; thankful it wasn’t too cold that night, and especially grateful for wonderful friends.  On the way to the hospital I texted Chris and called my mom to let her know what was going on (she jumped in her car and headed to Rexburg). 
Chris called while we still on our way to the hospital.  The conversation went something like this:
Chris: “Hey, so what’s going on?”
Me: “I think my water broke, and Rachel told me to come in so they could check for sure.  Meet me up at the hospital ASAP.”
Chris: “Okay.  So I got an 90 on my Chem test.”
Me: “That’s great.  Are you on your way to the hospital?”  Like really that’s great, but honestly that’s the last thing on my mind right now.
Chris: “Uh yeah.  Did you want me to bring you anything from home?”
Me: “You’re not home are you?”
Chris: “No, but I could run home if you forgot anything.”  Really kid?  Really?  I’m most likely IN LABOR!  I understand you want to make sure I have everything, but PLEASE come to the hospital right now. 
Me: “No I have everything.  I want you to come to the hospital right now.”
Chris: “Oh yeah, okay.  I’m on my way.”  I could tell a light bulb had clicked in his head at that moment and was thankful he wasn’t going to be one of those husbands who thought of the sandwich he really wanted to be eating or the basketball game he was missing while his wife was pushing out their kid.
5:55 p.m.
I arrived at the hospital. 
They took forever checking me in.  Hello, I’m in labor.  I’m in pain.  Let me go into the hospital so they can check me out here!  I don’t care about any forms I have to sign!  (This is why the husband should always be there). 
They finally put me in an examination room and told me to change into a hospital “gown.”  More like a sheet with a hole in it for your arms and head.  Did I mention it has no back? 
6:00 p.m.
Chris walked into the room.  I’ve never been so thankful to see him! 
6:05 p.m.
Okay, the pain is only getting worse.  Where is that doctor who’s supposed to check to see if my water broke?!   “They don’t have to come in and check,” I told Chris.  “I’m sitting in a puddle of water and I know I just didn’t pee my pants.”
A nurse finally came in.  She didn’t even test the puddle I was sitting in to see if it was amniotic fluid.  She just helped me up and took me to a delivery room. 
This was it!  We were going to meet our baby soon.  Little did we know how soon.
6:10 p.m.
The nurse sat me on a bed, and another nurse came in and started to ask me a whole bunch of questions I can’t even remember.  I’m grateful Chris was there to answer most of them.  They put monitors on my belly to monitor baby’s heartbeat. 
Rachel came in to check my dilation.  I was at a 3.
7:00 p.m.
The nurse tried getting an IV in me, but my veins weren’t showing.  It took about 15 minutes for her to put the IV in.  Thankfully she only had to poke me once.  I was hooked up to my antibiotics.  I needed them in my system four hours prior to delivery.  The nurse and Rachel weren’t concerned that I would have the baby before four hours. 
Contractions were starting to get worse.  I keep telling myself I can handle it because it was only going to get worse.  At one point though I told Chris I couldn’t do it anymore.  He was such a good cheerleader, telling me I could.
8:00 p.m.
I’m surprised I didn’t rip Chris’s clothes off.  My contractions were getting steadily worse.  The only relief (if you want to call it relief) was standing up.  I couldn’t stand up on my own so hung onto Chris’s neck with my right arm while pulling at his shirt with my left.  He later told me I was putting him in a chokehold.  Sorry Honey! 
Since I was giving birth naturally Rachel was supposed to be with me the whole time.  Well there was another lady in labor at the same time I was.  This was her fourth pregnancy and she was dilated to a 6, so naturally Rachel would be with her. 
8:45ish p.m. (ask Chris for sure.  My sense of time was pain).
I had noticed that my contractions were getting steadily worse every half hour or so.  I thought that it had to be over soon.  The nurse didn’t think so.  She was honest and said she’d give me another dose of antibiotics at 11 p.m.  “This will take that long?” I nearly cried. 
“I don’t want to sugar coat it,” she said, “But this is your first baby, and so I won’t be surprised if it does take that long.” 
At that point I honestly didn’t know if I could survive that long.  If my contractions were getting steadily worse with each half hour, I didn’t even want to think about how they would feel at 11 p.m. 
Epidural passed through my mind briefly.   I couldn’t get past the image of a huge needle being stuck in my back, and not being able to move, and getting hooked up to oxygen though. I would cross that bridge if my pain got worse. 
The nurse checked my dilation since my pain level had increased significantly. 
“You’re probably going to be at a 4,” she said.  I was at a 6 or 7!  Wow!  Okay, I could do this.  Just 3-4 more centimeters to go. 
“I can’t do this.” I told Chris as my pain increased again. 
“Yes you can, you’re doing awesome.”
9:00 p.m.
“You’re going to start feeling like you’re going to have a bowel movement,” the nurse said, “and you’ll want to bear down.” 
“Um…I’ve been feeling that for a little bit now.” 
“Let’s lay you down then.”
“No!”  The last time I tried to lay down = pain beyond pain.
The nurse assured me that I had lain down during a contraction, which had caused the pain.  So I stood by the bed waiting for the contraction to pass.  It didn’t.  It lessened, but never passed. 
“At this point,” the nurse said, “the contractions probably won’t permanently go away.” 
Awesome!  Chris and the nurse gently laid me down on my side.  I think I almost broke the rail to the bed. 
The nurse checked me again.  “You’re at a 9 ½.”
That must mean I’m getting close. 
Oh goodness, did I really just push?
The nurse told me to push the next time I had the urge.  So I did.  It scared me to death, but it did lessen the pain of the contraction and gave me something to do. 
Rachel came in to check me.  I was at a 10!!! 
I was a horrible pusher. 
They had to teach me how to push while I was pushing.  It’s not exactly something they can teach you at a birthing class. 
I’m grateful I didn’t have the epidural (not that I had time to get one).  If I had gotten one I would have no idea when to push and labor would have been longer. 
My mom told me when she gave birth to me she screamed.  I really didn’t want to scream, nor did I think I would.  I had no choice.  After each push I screamed.  I had no control over it.
Rachel stayed in the room and scrubbed up once I was at a 10.  Chris encouraged me throughout the 20 or so minutes of pushing. 
I couldn’t believe I was actually giving birth.  It’s something I always knew I would do someday.  It was amazing to think I was actually doing it.  There was no turning back at this point. 
9:29 p.m.
I saw the baby’s head for the first time.  The first thought that ran through my head was, “It’s out!” 
Chris placed the baby on my chest.
“Well, what is it?” I think I said (Chris was supposed to tell me the gender).
Turns out Chris was balling like our little baby.
“It’s a girl,” he finally said.
“A girl?  Really?” I said in disbelief. 
It was true.  The little baby on my chest was our sweet little girl.  Perhaps because Chris had three brothers and I had five, and we (well Chris mostly) had been calling our baby “Little guy” for the past 9 months, it was hard to believe I had given birth to a girl.  They are so rare in our families. 
So many emotions were going through my mind at this point.  The two main ones were relief and disbelief.  I was holding my daughter in my arms.  I was a mom.  I had just given birth! 
We named her Lilly.
Lilly stayed on my chest for about 30 minutes while after-birth stuff happened.  I remember Chris looking at my stomach and saying something like, “Whoa!  It’s flat again!” 
When they took Lilly off me she had pooped all over my stomach.  Seriously?  You were supposed to save that first squirt of meconium for Dad! 
She weighed in at 7lb 9 oz and was 20 ½ inches long.
Mom got a nice warm shower (thankful it was a fast labor).
Dad got a big sandwich (he hadn’t eaten since breakfast).
Lilly got some loves from Mom and Dad.


Because I didn’t get the antibiotic four hours prior to giving birth, Lilly and I had to stay in the hospital for 48 hours to make sure she didn’t have the virus.  She didn’t.  She never even got a hint of jaundice!  I’m so grateful she is a healthy baby. 

These past three weeks. 
How do I describe it?  I never thought I could love someone so much.  I would do anything for her.  And I pretty much do, including fighting my pain pill drowsiness so I can stay up with her at night.  She is so worth it.  I can look at Lilly for hours and not get bored.  I love laying next to her and smelling her sweet breath and skin. Cuddling with her is my favorite thing to do. 
It’s a wonder to look into her eyes and think she just came from our Heavenly Father.  She is so perfect and pure (even if she poops all over the bed sheets).  Chris and I love our sweet little girl.
Parenthood is the best lemonade you could ask for in life. 
Cuddle time with Mom
Daddy's girl.  He picked out her outfit
The little angel God blessed us with





Sunday, January 19, 2014

Why I did What I Did: My Pregnancy Story


“Judge not, that ye be not judged.” Matt 7:1

Perhaps I’m over-reacting, but I’ve seen some eyebrows go up, and felt people thinking, “Well aren’t you a weird one,” when I’ve told them about things I’ve planned for my pregnancy, and labor and delivery.  I know I don’t need to explain anything to anyone, but you know what? I feel like doing just that.  Hopefully next time someone tells you something they are doing during pregnancy and/or labor, you aren’t the ones with risen eyebrows wondering where this freak came from. 

“I don’t know how you do it!” and “You are so brave!” are two responses I frequently get when I tell people we didn’t find out what we are having.
Why didn’t I find out?  That’s simple.  I LOVE surprises. 
I will admit the week leading up to our 20 week ultra-sound I teetered on finding out if we were going to have a son or daughter.  However, in the end I knew I wanted to be surprised. 
Some people, though they didn’t say it out right and I don’t remember who they were, weren’t happy with me when I told them we weren’t finding out.  “We don’t know what to buy you then!” was one of their complaints.  The answer I was thinking but did not voice was, “Well it’s my pregnancy and my baby, not yours.”  I know I can be a little mean.  However, I’ve always wanted the gender of my baby to be a surprise.  I don’t want to let someone else’s complaints get in the way of one of the few things I can control during pregnancy.
The one comment that got me the most was when people would tell me I was so brave for not finding out.  (It’s not like I tight roped across the Grand Canyon.  I’m just being surprised).  “I would have to know,” they say, “So I can prepare.”  Honestly I don’t think I’m brave.  I think of the millions of women who had babies before ultra-sound was invented.  They had no way of knowing what they were having, therefore, having no way of “preparing” for a little boy or little girl.  Honestly I think you take care of a baby girl the same way you take care of a baby boy.  You feed them, you change them, you bathe them, you get up and hold them for hours on end in the middle of the night when they cry, and you love them.  Do you need to know the gender to prepare for that?  Personally, I don’t. 
As for finding them gender appropriate clothes?  Wal-Mart has none.  We’ve already looked.  Admittedly, we don’t have many clothes for the baby, and only have one blanket as of now.  Good thing this is the first grandchild on both sides, and first great grandchild on three sides, so I’m sure this baby will get spoiled.  Plus I think Chris will have fun shopping for his new kid.  I’ll be excited to see what he brings home.  (Life with Chris is always an adventure!)
One of my favorite questions I get asked is, “Well what do you think it is?”  What I’ve wanted to say so bad for about a month is, “I know it’s not a kitten, but I hope it’s a puppy.”   I honestly have no idea what I’m having. 

The thing that gets me is when people get a fleeting offended look on their face when I tell them we aren’t telling anyone the names we have picked out for our baby.  There is no need to be offended.  Our own parents don’t even know what their grandchild’s name is going to be. 
I have a friend who, a year ago, had a baby boy.  When I asked what they were going to name him she told me they weren’t telling anyone until after he was born.  At first I was kind of weired out.  I was the one with raised eyebrows.  She then told me most people have an opinion on the name before the baby is born.  But after the baby is born, it’s named and the birth certificate signed, no one can have an opinion at that point.  The more I thought about this, the more it made sense.   When we first found out we were expecting I ran this idea by my husband.  He agreed.
I have liked not telling people what we are going to name our child, purely because it’s one less opinion I have to hear about.

Of all the friends I’ve talked to since getting pregnant only one of them is, or has done, a natural birth.  When I tell people I want to give birth with no medication some of them will honestly look at me as if I told them I wanted to give birth in a desert with no medical help.  When this look passes over their faces I think, “Well it’s no different than when our grandparents, and even some of our parents gave birth.  If they could do it, why can’t I?”  According to my recent research, epidurals didn’t become available until the 1960s and 1970s.  And it wasn’t until the 1990s that anesthetic care became the common practice in developed countries. 
So since epidurals are a common practice in the 21st century, why am I preparing for a natural birth? 
I grew up with a mom who gave birth naturally to five of her seven children.  She always talked about how painful it was, but how much better she felt after giving birth.  She told me her natural endorphins kicked in right away, she forgot about the pain, and all she wanted to do was nurture her baby.  “And I could get up and walk around almost immediately afterward,” she said.  “When I had the epidurals I couldn’t get up for several hours after I gave birth, and I felt drugged up.” 
I’m not basing my decision purely off my mom.  I’ve read many accounts of women who have given birth both naturally and with an epidural.  Nearly every single one of them said they preferred the natural birth.  They could feel the baby moving inside of them.  Instead of a doctor telling them when the baby was ready to come out, or when to push, their own body was telling them when it was time.  Personally, I’d rather listen to my own body than a doctor who is only looking at monitors and is going from experience (everyone’s birthing experience is different after all).
If you had an epidural, or are planning on getting one, I don’t judge you.  It’s how you’ve pictured your labor and delivery to go and that’s great.  So please don’t judge me when I tell you I want to give birth naturally.  It’s my personal decision.  And if I do happen to get an epidural, well I don’t know how many times I’ve been told no labor and delivery goes exactly as planned, so again don’t judge me. 

We all have decisions we must make in life.  The key thing to remember about decisions that others make, is as long as their decision is not seriously hurting them or anyone else let them make it.  We learn from the decisions we make.  Each of us has a vision of how we want our life to turn out.  It’s those decisions that will allow our life to turn out the way we have envisioned it.  From being pregnant and doing many things out of the norm, I have learned not to judge others for decisions they have made or are making in their lives.  I admit I’m a different kind of pregnant woman, but my decisions make me happy.  They aren’t hurting anyone.  Most importantly they don’t go against God’s plan for His children.  As Christ said, “Judge not, that ye be not judged.”