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 tell you what.

There is nothing quite like being best friends with someone who is 6 weeks more pregnant than you. The entire experience just seems very unfair.

I mean, we had about 2 weeks there in the beginning when we were both all barfy and heartburny, but then Jasmine was done with it and I still had a solid 4 weeks of urpy misery to make it through. There for a while in the middle we were both all cute and round and eating everything we could get our hands on, without a negative side effect in sight, but soon enough the uneven timetables kicked in again.

Jasmine neared the end of her pregnancy and was understandably uncomfortable, being a thousand months pregnant and maybe in labor maybe not, and all through this I was still relatively able to move about and function like a human. So I guess maybe that was kind of unfair for her.

But then she got to go have give birth to her spectacularly cute little baby and I was there for it, all weepy and hand flappy and sometime around…30 minutes after Addison was born I was like “Oh my lands. I have 6 more freaking weeks of this nonsense!” And instantly, the uncomfortableness of 34 weeks pregnant kicked in.

That’s how my body works. Its totally fine until someone mentions something like “Oh hey! You are 36 weeks along and dialated to a one” and then suddenly I have very painful contractions. That eventually go away, but are painful nonetheless. So now I’m at 38 weeks and have had contractions on and off for the last 2 weeks. Yesterday they were about 15-20 minutes apart for a good 5 hours. And today? Nothing except the usual pubic bone ache that I’ve had for so long I’m thinking of giving it a name.

So…bah. In the meantime I’m going to walk around the block a few times and maybe go snuggle Addison in hopes that her baby powers will induce labor.

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

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!

I was reminded by a friend that (even though I call it hippy and joke) the reality is that home birthing and the midwifery model are actually not “Hippy” at all. They are part of  the humanistic/holistic model of care. As opposed to the medical model they choose not to treat pregnant women, but rather assist women through a natural process and little intervention.

After I quizzed my OB and my primary care physician for several visits (do you know how expensive it is to just TALK to your doctor!) I was given the green light and decided to pick my midwife. We (Garrett and I) discussed what traits were important to us and I took to the task of calling a few in the area. I knew that I would instantly tell if I wanted to work with someone over the phone, and true enough having phone conversations narrowed my choices down to two. I ended up not even meeting with the second midwife choice. I immediately knew I was in love with Janessa Craig. Add  the fact that my OB worked with her on the Labor and Delivery Unit at Siloam and I was golden. Janessa is a smooth personality who will sit and look at me very patiently as I ramble on about research and data. She looks at me graciously and inhales for me and reminds me I won’t have this time back ever again and tells  me to savor it.

Janessa and her apprentice came to have a home visit on Monday.  I cooked lunch and they explored my house, discussed scenarios, and determined what I wanted for the experience. They didn’t leave for three hours.  After doing my vitals they just sat on my bed and giggled and talked like we were old friends. At this point I entered into my lecture about why Janessa needed to let me take Castor oil… “I NEED this baby, ” I complained, “I am over it! I am done being pregnant… I want her NOW!” Janessa shook her head and gave me the same ole speech, “Jasmine the best thing you can do is let her cook and when that time comes  that God appointed she will be here.” THAT is exactly why I don’t let God be in charge of anything!!!! That dude has got His priorities all jacked up! Doesn’t HE know that my body has expired of this process!? Who likes to pee forty ba-gillion times in one damn night!! Janessa’s words, however, reminded me that I could hold on for another week and maybe even two more after that. And just to make sure my misery was cataloged in my mind appropriately, I looked up at Janessa and commented, “Don’t some women stay pregnant well past forty weeks?” She nodded. “UGH!” I exclaimed, “That is it! I am going to be pregnant forever!” To which she responded, “Well! You could make us some money then!”

So we are still waiting. In Jasmineland more waiting means more projects.

 Even though I DO own Castor Oil… I am harnessing everything I have in my overly impatient body and holding on to allow Addison to decided to arrive when she wants. *Better make is soon kid! Asking Momma to have this much patience is sort of an act of God!*

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).

Yesterday I wrote a note to my two best friends from high school. Neither of them have had a baby yet, and since I am working on Number 2 over here, I like to terrorize them with stories of vomiting and heartburn that singes your nostril hairs and all that horrific tearing of your lady parts. Its a super fun pasttime, and I love being evil.

Yesterday I wanted to share with them the peril of the pregnant pants. The note went a little something like this.

So I just got back from buying another pair of maternity jeans. Don’t ever get pregnant. I mean seriously. Because if you get pregnant like I do then you will go through three completely different sizes of clothing in just nine months. What fits in the beginning is unbearable by 29 weeks and what fit you at 29 weeks laughable at 40 weeks when it takes all your strength just to roll your self out of bed in the morning. And then you will have another nine months after the baby is born to go through three more sizes before you end up somewhere near where you were before you got pregnant. Except that, you will actually be a totally different shape than when before you were pregnant, with parts of your body that are totally foreign and nothing like what you used to call “your hips”. And then, when you get pregnant again, you will realize that while you thought you had lost all the baby weight from the first baby, you are actually a whopping 15 pounds heavier than you were at this time 2 years ago.

You will just never fit into the clothes you used to wear before the babies came and ruined you (and totally stole your heart away and gave your life a bigger meaning, but whatever, none of that has anything to do with your butt, which you accidentally saw naked in the Old Navy fitting room. You might want to just gouge that memory out with a plastic hanger).

I mean sure, maybe you will be the kind of woman who only gains weight in your belly and the rest of stays all fit and firm and glowy. But not me. I gain weight everywhere and especially like to pack the pounds into my neck and JOWLS!

Anyway, I’ve got to go now. I’m going to eat a bean burrito. I want to make sure that the pants I just bought don’t fit me in three weeks.

Loves you!

HAHA! I am an evil, evil person.

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.