I love our family. Addison is fitting in really well (Garrett calls himself the ‘Baby Whisperer’) and Isaiah has adjusted to life as four. Many things have recently changed in our lives, all were good changes regardless of how difficult they have been (even the freakish unexpected ones). Garrett walks around cooing at Addison and smiling. When Isaiah was a newborn we never got to choose to hold him. We just HAD to. His Demon Colic caused him to scream scream scrrrreeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaam if he wasn’t in someone’s arms. So when we could finally put him down (around 3.5 months old) we let him have A LOT of individual play. Addison doesn’t cry much, once we figured out that oversupply breastfeeding thing and the tied tongue, she is happy as a clam. So we hold her, not because we have to, but because we want to. What a different world that is.

With all the changes in our world, we have been discussing the idea of contraception. When Addison first arrived I told Garrett to schedule a vasectomy before he even thought about touching me. He’d say he wanted another one, I’d say no. Then he’d wake up at three in the morning for a feeding. The next morning I would say I wanted another one, and he’d say no. We flipped and flopped and had a pregnancy scare and then decided maybe we needed to talk about what we really wanted, before nature chose for us.

So Garrett, in all his brilliance, came up with this plan (which I like a lot): No contraception. Just breastfeeding. The side effects of contraception on my reproductive history as well as my anxiety are unfavorable. We didn’t want the risks that I would have to take with all my medical history and Garrett wasn’t ready to accept a vasectomy at 24 years of age.

If we do not get pregnant by the time I stop breastfeeding (about two years) then we are going to fix break Garrett’s man-plumbing.  I don’t know if this plan is very in favor of a third, since I had to have fertility treatments to push the Addison Ova out, but I guess we will see.

I think it is the excessive sun I am getting … but I have never been this loosey goosey with life planning. I don’t like the unplanned, unscheduled, unorganized (when it comes to my body). In both instances with Isaiah and Addison I already had their names picked out BEFORE I knew what/who they were. I always knew I’d have two children, some way somehow. So if I get pregnant a third time- I may not even find out the gender. I may let Garrett name it Alexander Magnus Kopter Pilot the 3rd.  I am just feeling that adventurous about life!

So maybe we’ll have a baby or maybe we won’t. Guess we’ll leave it up to nature

When you have a second child, or during your second pregnancy, if you are like me, you think, “Shazaam! Number two will be a breeze, cause I got this shit on lock DOWN!” Ok, maybe YOU don’t say ‘lock down’ but if you did, you’d be as awesome as me! I digress.

If you welcome the second child with the admonition, “welcome, jewel of a baby, for I know all the secrets to motherhood and you don’t frighten me…” you’ll be wrong. I was wrong. I was SO wrong.

Every baby is different (as well as every pregnancy). And pride? It cometh before the FALL. That fall is the one where you burst into tears crying, “what did I eat that is making her scream in pain!!!!!!”

Addison is tongue tied. Not only do I not know how to deal with this medical issue, but I have never ever HEARD of it. Turns out it is more than an expression. Tongue tied babies have a very hard time latching and all that jazz. So now I have to figure out what to do about her tongue. I could get it clipped (OUCHIES!) or suffer through her poor latching, air sucking breastfeeding… In spite of her poor tongue, Addison is doing well. She is gaining weight and nursing like a champ- she just sucks a bunch of air and then farts like a man (a very large man that has eaten too many bean burritos) and occasionally screams because her poor belly is full of air.

So I don’t know if I should  get her frenulum clipped….

Does anyone have any experience with this?

I had no idea that so many things could happen to a woman’s underparts! I arrived home and promptly sat in my Midwife Herbal Bath. For all who don’t know: the Herbal Bath is a concoction of several herbs, sea salt, and Garlic. Soaking in it after a vaginal delivery expedites healing and is soothing. What they don’t tell you is all that salt and Garlic leave you smelling like a piece of Garlic toast…. and with a sagging belly, well, that just ain’t sexy!

I have wrestled with the idea of what to say concerning the birth of Addison. It was the most ideal experience I could have hoped for. And still, everyone is asking, “Did you get an epidural?” “Did you do it naturally?” A big part of me feels like I owe people a story, since I bitched about all of it so openly on the blog…. the other part of me wants to hold on to the beautiful experience I had and not have it tainted by people’s judgments (because OH! DO THEY JUDGE!).

I think the better questions for people to ask me are: “Jasmine, was it what you wanted?” “Did you feel supported?” “Is Addison here and healthy?” Yes to all of the above!  Garrett was a super labor coach, Sadie was great comedic relief, and I pushed that baby out in two pushes like Zena the Warrior Princess! I am so elated with what I went through. It was lovely. The UTI that followed was NOT lovely. I have never had a urinary tract infection. I would rather give birth to all of the Dugger’s children than experience that again. Um. I am not lying! I would eagerly pop out all of those little Duggers than ever have razor blades come out of my pee hole again! Thank the Lord for Cranberry and Antibiotics. MERCY!

When we are a little farther away from the birth….and I feel less of a need to hold on to this sparkly happiness of a memory, I will recapitulate what I experienced. For now I am still all squishy over what happened. IF it is any indication, half way through Sadie and Garrett and I LAUGHING through one of my contractions Garrett looked at me and said, “Dude! This birth stuff is awesome, we should have another one…” Then a couple of days later he was looking at me with creepy Precious Moments dough eyes and said, “Aw babe! I miss your pregnant belly.” I mean, the experience was awesome, the pregnancy was a breeze… but keep your evil parasite producing penis away from me sir! There will be none of that!

Hope everyone is well. We are all covered in breast milk and happiness around here <3

when I actually get some time I will post more.for now enjoy these.

Like the title? I hope so….

So. Garrett and I went in this morning to have my membranes stripped.

HA! What a joke!!!  You wanna know what happened? My contractions got closer together with no change in intensity. So now my vagina is just all hurty and my back is all crampy and my front is all contraction-y, with no progress.

So. I check in tomorrow for good ole pitocin. I am a little frightened that I won’t be able to handle pitocin induced contractions, but at this point I am so angsty and bitchy that I might just stand up and grunt this baby out all Zena the Warrior Princess style (ew. gross visual!).

Hey remember all that lofty and mature crap I was spouting in the last post about not controlling life… EFF that! I am ready to see this baby and move on to phase two.

Check back in a couple of days, when I am sure to be all squishy and happy and in love with my little girl and this annoyance only a tiny blip on my maternal radar.

Pregnancy is a lot like life. It hardly ever goes EXACTLY how you plan it. So, rather, you learn to readjust and embrace things as they come. You attempt to understand that control doesn’t always mean security and what matters most is how you deal with disappointment or obsticales.

Listen to me! I sound so mature! I am done with life. I’ve reached my pinnacle *snort*

Addison will be here Tuesday or Wednesday via induction. This is why:

I have been on anti-anxiety meds for a good part of my life due to Generalized Anxiety Disorder and various other things (See previous post about post-partum psychosis). When I became pregnant I talked with my primary care physician about going off my meds (because they are not the BEST for baby), and he advised that during the last two months I could transition off them. I did transition off them successfully…. until last week. Last week I started having panic attacks. My body was getting very tired from the continually uneven contractions and emotionally I was just done being pregnant. Any women who has carried a child to term understands the intense anxiety that comes when you are at the final stage. By nature, I am not a patient person (when it comes to myself) and I am just generally anxious. So when the panic attacks began to hit at random times (like driving home from Target, when I was startled by a bird…) Garrett and I began to re-evaluate the whole home birth choice.

I had a visit with my OB and he talked me through some options. He said, and I agreed, the best thing (ultimately) was to get back on my meds so I would regain composure over my anxiety and to have the baby. Since my body is still contracting (still unevenly and and random times) and my cervix is way more than ready he asked if I felt ok with attempting natural induction (stripping my membranes) and then if that didn’t work medical induction the next day. The date is set for Tuesday (strip membranes), and if that doesn’t fire things up Pitocin induction on Wednesday.

In my journey to obtain a birth experience that was solely mine I have learned several things: The business of babies coming into the world is miraculous, regardless of the process.  Each mother needs a different experiences, even a different experience from her previous pregnancies. Be informed about your body, your rights, and your needs. Take charge of your health! Advocate a process, for yourself, that will set the stage to being a healthy and balanced mother for your children. That last lesson was what made me change my mind about a home birth. The reality is, if I had a panic attack in the middle of labor at home, my husband, midwife, and I would be ill-equipped to handle it. As opposed to some popular opinions severe panic attacks can’t just be “breathed” through my some individuals. Generalized Anxiety Disorder is a medical condition caused by several factors and should be treated with the utmost respect. All that to say, it can’t be conquered with some Lavender oil and chanting (trust me, I’ve tried).

My utmost concern is creating a stable experience that will 1. not push me into the whole psychosis experience and 2. not create more anxiety for myself so I can enjoy  the arrival of my daughter. This brought Garrett and I to the difficult choice of deciding to go to the hospital (with out labor support team) to be just and IV drip away from medication that would help manage a panic attack.

All of the Brokins’ readers have been so supportive about my journey with Addison. I can’t thank you enough. I keep reminding myself, as one of my very best friends told me, that “either way I will have a new life in my arms. Sometimes it matters less HOW they were born, but just that they were BORN.” The end result both directions is the hope of a beautiful baby girl. Do I have reservations that the anxiety of a hospital birth will push me toward the same post-partum depression experience? Hell yes! Am I afraid that I won’t have a panic attack and the birth will be perfect and I will wish I stayed home. Double hell yes! 

What I do know is that I am more educated this time around, better supported, and fully equipped to face this experience. I feel that if I don’t hedge myself in and control my anxiety that it will most certainly negatively impact my chances of developing post-partum depression and taint the arrival of our daughter.

 Listen to me? I sound like I am flying to the moon.

I think this is a blessing. It has uncomplicated the process for me and brought me back to the understanding that life isn’t controllable (though I will be damned if I stop trying to control it!). Facing your giants, in any form, is important. Taking charge and taking care of our bodies is a vital.

Wish me luck folks, I will check in again on Tuesday.

My contractions started up the other day. They were every 20 mins and uneven. I was having intense back labor and thinking that maybe this baby was coming. After being checked by OB and Midwife, they both  agreed that I was dilating. Janessa (my Midwife) suggested I take something to stop my labor so that it would kick start again stronger and more even. (I eventually took the option and stopped my labor, the back labor was awful and I was getting super tired). Before I made the choice to take the drugs I had this conversation with Sadie:

Me: My contractions are still uneven. Every twenty or thirty mins. with intense back cramping. Dr. Crownover said I am dilating, I am at 1- almost two…

Sadie: OMG! I am SOOOO excited! How are you doing?

Me: My back is hurty! Janessa asked me if I wanted to take something to stop labor.

Sadie! WHAT!? Why would she ask you that!

Me: SO that my labor will stop and then start back on its own evenly.

Sadie: Well, I guess that makes sense, but what did you say?

Me: I told her yes.

Sadie: What!?

Me: Just kidding… I said I would wait it out to see if it is real labor for awhile.

Sadie: Oh God good! I thought I was going to have to come over there and punch you in your cervix!

Throughout this pregnancy I have been in the unfortunate position that NO ONE can figure out my due date. I have had several different ultrasounds by several different OB’s and none of them can actually give me a good estimate. It isn’t an exact science, I know that much… but I would still like to know when I SHOULD expect our bundle of screaming joy to arrive. Here are the dates I have been given:  March 17th, March 23rd, March 27th, April 1st.   So Dr. Crownover, my OB, went with April 1st because that gives us more time before the state of Arkansas forces a C-section. Even so, all fetal measurements have been a week or two larger than they were “supposed” to be… so I was under the strong suspicion that April 1st was the wrong date.

The other day I was nesting like a psycho womancleaning out a couple of drawers and I found our old calendar. Turns out that I wrote down that Garrett and I had sex (I wrote it down because I had previously been taking fertility meds) on June 30th. For all you conception gurus out there, it means that IF I conceived on or around that date, then Addison should be born on or around the 23rd of March! Hooray! At least some kind of direction and clarity, right?!

In the mean time, my body is telling me it is full term and I am getting anxious. In a week in a half Addison will be considered medically viable (no complications if she was born)… which is a really bad thing. It is a bad thing because I am notoriously BAD about delaying gratification, especially when I have planned and scheduled and worked so hard for it. Last year I picked tomatoes too early (knowingly) because I decided that I waited long enough for them to do their damn job! Silly aren’t I! I am very patient with children (unless they live inside me) and family and friends (for the most part)… but any projects I have initiated better get themselves DONE by golly or there will be some issues.

So my little in-utero project, Addison, is quickly wearing out her welcome. Janessa, my midwife, is doing the smart thing, reminding me: “Jasmine… all things come in season- she won’t stay in their forever, but let her grow as long as she needs to.” Excuse me Janessa! Do you KNOW who you are talking to…. I want her! I want her NOW!  My OB knows this about me. He told me I could be induced when I wanted. I think this is a dangerous idea and I turned it down, but its appeal grows everyday that my hip pops out of place and I almost pee on myself when I sneeze.

Help me friends. Remind me it is okay to wait, that I will make it, and that all things come in season (even though I will most likely ignore you and drink and ungodly amount of Castor oil).

I’ve been unable to write for some time. It is a combination of the weather, more projects than a human should ever have, and being in the process of making some decisions. I am the type of person that when a decision is put in my lap to make I do a heinous amount of research, I poll friends, I read tea leaves, and I stop writing and thinking about anything BUT that decision. I am not compulsive, I Swear. I have been like this since, well… my birth. My mom explained to me that I was a very intentioned little girl. When someone asked me if I wanted a piece of candy… I weighed the options. I just tell myself I bestowed with this damn annoying habit gift to use for something great someday… I will keep holding my breath.

So the decision in question has been about how Addison should arrive into this world. What, you ask, are you saying, “Jasmine! There is one way to have babies… drugged up and in the hospital so you don’t feel pain and if anything goes wrong you have medical professionals around you.” Readers, truly, I thought so too.  IN FACT my refrain used to be, “why in the HELL would someone NOT want drugs… that HURT!!!” However, after my birth experience with Isaiah there was a sneaking suspicion in me that what happened to me at that hospital was NOT how it was supposed to be. I had always been taught, by my beautiful and wise Momma, that birth was something women could do… because we were made that way. She had no strong opinions about meds or no med or where you have the baby, but she always reminded me that women were created capable.  My hospital experience left me feeling like I was broken; pregnancy was to be treated, and that I couldn’t give birth, and my baby had to be delivered. The suspicion that maybe a women’s labor shouldn’t be stopped when it wants to starts urged some seriously uneasy choices in front of me. Here is the quick and dirty birth tale so you can understand (enjoy the run on sentences):

I went into the OB unit after a whole day of back labor. My contractions were 1 min. a part. When I arrived they checked me and saw I was dilated to 4 cms. My doc was out of town and I was only 37.5 weeks and so the attending was not happy about delivering a “premature” baby. So they gave me shots in my belly every four hours to stop the labor until Friday night when my doc arrived. My OB arrived and my labor had stopped and Isaiah’s heart readings were in distress so they decided to induce. I was given pain meds, Pitocin, epidural, Cervidil, and told to hold on tight this baby would be here. I finally was able to push on Saturday. Isaiah was born blue and unresponsive (because of the drugs he had absorbed) until they pinched him really hard. Isaiah was 6 lbs 5oz and CLEARLY not premature. I was hallucinating (from the drugs) and semi-unconscious most of the experience. That delivery followed a long stint with Postpartum Depression and Psychosis. This followed a year of attempted bonding with my son.

*Inhale*

That is the skinny. I don’t want to repeat that experience as anyone, who has given birth under extremely stressful circumstances, could understand why.  I am an emotional introvert and even before the birth of my son the idea of so many people fussing over me or not being in a comfortable environment made me feel all panic stricken and nervous. So I began researching what options I had. This was really difficult because I am a big fan of the medical field (since I will be working in it) and modern technology. Most of the birthing stories I heard where from my crazy Hippy friends, who I was convinced had some sort of Patchouli induced power to withstand pain and stuffing. I was very uneasy about all of it. What I found most interesting during my period of research (6 whole months of it) was that IF you are educated about what ACTUALLY happens during birth and what is SUPPOSED to happen via natural processes, the story changes significantly. I didn’t just watch hyped up pro home/un-medicated birth documentaries and read biased books. I logged on to EBSCO search elite and whipped out my ole researcher hat (hope I make you proud Dr. Froman) and even ran Pearson correlations on medical findings. See… ya’ll think I was joking! Just wait till I have to help my son make a decision. I am going to make the process so damned difficult, I am sure, that I render him emotionally incapable of making a decision.

What yielded after my research and conferring with my OB and my primary care physician was that a home birth (for me: an experienced low risk mom) was extremely safe and favorable. My OB is very close to me and was very sad to see me go, but soon admitted he was excited for me and knew all would be well. My primary care physician joked that his wife would hate having the mess and bustle in her home, but that he felt I was a great candidate and medically, barring freakish emergencies (which I will discuss later), it was a safe choice. So Garrett and I joined hands and made a big decision to have Addison at home, with a midwife, doula, select friends and family, and no meds or interventions. We have chosen our midwife (she has been caring for me for some time now) and we are preparing to meet Addison soon.

Damn those Hippy weirdos! They DO know something about something after all!

Part 2 coming soon……

We’ve been MIA for awhile, haven’t we? It seems that you get to certain stage in pregnancy where eating, sleeping, and nesting are the only real activities of your life. I have been decorating and redecorating and organizing and cleaning. Addison’s nursery still isn’t done, but we are very close.

As we’ve begun to prepare for this big change, we’ve attempted to transition Isaiah the best we know how. He is very fond of my belly and loves to say ‘good morning’ to it. He also loves to rub lotion on it and talk with Addison (who he has randomly started calling “Ernie”). We like the nickname Ernie… we are gonna call her that.  I digress. As we’ve attempted to explain that this room is where she will live, these diapers are what she will wear, etc, he has seemed to understand. He knows babies grow in bellies and that they come out one day. I have this underlying fear that although he seems to understand he will completely freak out when she arrives. THEN I will have that mommy guilt moment where I cry and wonder why I chose to destroy my little boy’s life…. weird, I know.

So I am reading and researching and attempting to figure out how to make this the easiest transition possible.