Having a Baby- Pattengale Style

It's been two weeks since Malachi David Pattengale entered this world. I guess it's finally time to re-enter the blogosphere and tell the world.

So. We'll start at 7:30 am on Thursday, October 27. I got home from work and got into my warm, cozy bed and snuggled up to my warm, cozy husband and said "Goodnight." (Oh the bliss of coming home to a warm bed and man!) I woke up around 3:30 that afternoon to spend some time with Josh before he left for the evening- he was going to a guys night at a friend's house. At least, he thought so. During a round of Gin Rummy, I once again started having contractions. These have been starting and stopping (most annoyingly) for the past week. We started timing them at 3:42. I know the exact time because we wrote down the contractions and I still have the paper on the fridge. It's one of those things that I just can't throw away. They were about 8-9 minutes apart consistently- strong enough that I'd stop playing and breathe through them, but not really painful. After an hour, I got irritated so I pumped with my milk pump for about 20 minutes. That brought my contractions to every 3-4 minutes. After an hour of these contractions, I decided to take a shower. (I didn't want to go to the hospital even though the timing and length of the contractions were appropriate- since I work in the Birthing Center I didn't want to be sent home from triage for false labor. Mortifying.) After my shower we waited another hour of contractions every 5 minutes before I called the midwife to let her know what was going on. She said I could do whatever I wanted, so I packed up my bags and we went to the hospital an hour later (eh, 8:30pmish).

I was in triage about 30 minutes when they admitted me into labor. The monitor showed I was having contractions every 1-2 minutes, but the baby's heart rate wasn't showing the changes they wanted. So, lots of fluids, popsicles, and lying on my side. After an hour, his heart rate started showing good variations- we were back in business. I had to have IV antibiotics for Group B strep, a normal bacteria that some women have, so they got that on board and then it was time to start walking the halls. It's an interesting thing to wear a hospital gown and have contractions in front of co-workers. I got back massages, advice and encouragement at the nurses' station- they also told me I was 3.5 cm and -2 station. (I was ticked at the -2 station. Come on now, Baby P.)

At 11:30, the midwife broke my water- most interesting feeling ever! Like peeing yourself, but you know you didn't. Suddenly I understood why the nurses were all saying I was smiling too much at the beginning- those contractions were nothing compared to these new ones. I took one more walk in the halls and then said, "Shoot, I'm done with that. It hurts." :) My favorite new spots were lying on my side (breathing and relaxing through contractions) and sitting on the birthing ball (rolling around on the ball during contractions and resting back on Josh between them).

Let me mention, Josh was fantastic! I was incredibly nervous that I would be a total witch during labor- I tend to get a little snappy and mean when I'm hurting. I was just hoping I wouldn't say anything that would damage our marriage forever. ;) However, with that foreknowledge, I must say I did pretty well! There was one time he was talking to my mom on the phone during a contraction and I commanded him (very strongly and several times) to put that phone down! I also had him changing the thermostat almost every minute. But he was great! Supportive, encouraging, loving. He stopped me when I started punching my thigh repeatedly during a contraction (it doesn't really make sense now- but hitting my thigh had seemed like an appropriate response to the pain at the time) and repeatedly offered his hand through every contraction. He grabbed the trash can when I started throwing up and massaged my back whenever I needed it. I have told him this repeatedly: I could not have done it without him (also, I would not have needed to do it without him! Ha.)

At some point in the night, the word 'medicine' started rolling around in my head. Josh and I had wanted to have a medication free birth (other than the necessary antibiotics), but we weren't set in stone as we had no idea what labor was like. We decided to have the nurse check my progress and decide afterwards. She said I was 6cm dilated. Not quite as much as I had hoped, but I really think I was just trying to overachieve (and also I wanted the pain to be done.) After a few more contractions, we decided to try the tub for pain relief. The warm water was heavenly at first. Minus the fact that I was nine months pregnant and a whale. Whales are not supposed to fit in tubs. It's depressing when you can't get all of you under water. You have to keep shifting and rotating and rolling so you don't get cold. Mostly, I just wanted the water to cover my belly- it felt the best that way.

After about 10 minutes in the tub, it wasn't working anymore. The contractions seemed stronger, longer, worse. Josh held the removable shower head so it was spraying water straight on my stomach, but all I could do was cry and pray, "Oh Lord, Oh Lord, Oh Lord" repeatedly. (Oh goodness, I'm going to cry now... this is bringing back quite the memories...) I called my labor nurse into the bathroom, sat up so my face was about a foot away from her's and said (in probably my most intense voice ever... poor Erin!) "Erin, I want pain medicine." She was very serious in return and told me she would get the midwife and then we'd get me some meds.

When the midwife came in, she watched 2 contractions in the tub. At this point, I had no idea what was going on with my body. Halfway through a contraction my entire body would start shaking. I was trying my best to relax (I had been practicing relaxation techniques for the previous 9 months) but would end up pushing with each contraction. The midwife decided to check my progress before allowing any medication: "Ericka, you're a 10. You're completely dilated and ready to go. We're going to get you into the bed and you're going to have this baby." Suddenly I understood why the contractions in the tub seemed so bad. They were! I had dilated 4 cm in 20 minutes. Intense. And no time for pain meds. I had made it.

After the next contraction, I climbed out of the tub, Josh and the midwife quick toweled me dry, and we tottered over to the bed. (I say tottered because it wasn't a walk and it wasn't a run. It was like a trot with the midwife holding one arm and Josh the other. I have no idea who had the IV pole with the antibiotics. I don't even know if it was still hooked to me or not.

I got in the bed and tried to prepare myself for the next hurdle: pushing out a baby. I had read in a book not to push as hard as possible- push how hard your body is telling you to. So, with the first push, I only pushed until I felt pain relief. I didn't think it was that great of an effort, but then the midwife said, "Oh, he's got a lot of hair!" And Josh said he saw the head too. And I thought, "Uh oh, you're not supposed to be seeing his head just yet." And with the second push, I got to reach down and feel my baby's head. It felt... wet. Warm. Soft. After this second push, they told me at some point I was going to feel a lot of pain... the dreaded 'ring of fire.' Even the name is enough to conjure fear in the heart of every woman of childbearing age. Shudder. I replied, "Yes, that is what I'm afraid of!" Push through it, they told me. So, with the third push and (I'm not going to lie) a bit of a yell, I pushed hard. And out came his head. And they told me, "One more, Ericka!" So, with another yell and my forth and final push, out came my son. The midwife had positioned Josh's hands, so he got to deliver our baby.

Suddenly, I had this incredibly warm, wet, soft little body lying on my chest. I heard Josh say, "He's beautiful, Ericka," but I was lost. A weird feeling of disconnect. There is a baby lying on my chest. I know he is mine. What am I supposed to do now? "Hi, buddy." I remember hearing Malachi cry- I remember Josh going to lie down when he got really pale and lightheaded- I remember people congratulating us- but besides how warm Malachi's body was, everything seemed very distant.

I know at some point, it will be difficult to recall the details, but for now, they are engraved in my mind. Malachi David Pattengale, born on his due date. October 28, 2011. At 4:04 am. Weighing 7lbs, 12 oz. Length 20 inches. A full head of dark hair. Perfect.

I will skip the details of the midwife sewing me back together. Needless to say, when you only push 9 minutes, there is no time for an episiotomy or stretching. There is time for nothing except catching the baby. So we had to do some repair work.

Then came snuggling with my son- a shared pride with my husband- exhaustion from a long night's work- pictures with my new family of three- the most delicious piece of toast I've ever eaten- my first unguarded moments alone with my son- a feeling of utter joy mixed with deep tiredness that completely filled my being. And the peace that comes with knowing you finished. You completed the task. You did well.

Of course, the work of being a parent? Well, it just started...

Autumn.

Autumn is my favorite.

Scarves.
Apple cider.
My dad's old flannel red and black jacket.
Snuggling.
Gusty, invigorating breezes.
Crunchy leaves.
Pumpkins.
Pumpkin pie.
Pumpkin rolls.
Pumpkin lattes.
Pumpkin bread.
Dark hot chocolate.
Red, orange, and brown.
Sweaters (albeit, I wear sweaters all year long).
Festivals.
Beautiful foliage.
Spicy smells.
Chili and cornbread.
Crisp, clear air.
The whispered thought of Christmas.

An Exceptionally Good Day

Satisfied.

That is what I feel right now.

Today we had our external version- the procedure where the OB doctor and midwife try to push a baby into the head down position when he or she is breech. It is such a weird feeling to be walking into the hospital to be admitted as a patient; suddenly my adrenaline is pumping and holding Josh's hand is a necessity. We start with a quick stop at Radiology for an ultrasound to make sure Baby P. is still breech. And yes, he is. We also ask for a quick check to make sure his male genitalia is still present. Thankfully, it is. I would've been a nervous nelly to find out he'd lost them somewhere in my uterus. :)

Next we ride the elevator up to my home base- the birthing center. But, like I said, it's not quite as relaxing when you are the patient. After a quick check in, I get to change into a hospital gown- wow those things are breezy on the backside- and hop into the hospital bed to watch some cable while they start an IV. (They set everything up as if we will need to do a c-section, as this is one of the possible negative outcomes of a version.) After my IV is in, they hook me up to the baby's heart monitor- his heart rate is running in the very decent 140s and my uterus is irritable. After around 30 minutes of monitoring, the nurse gave me an injection of terbutaline to relax my uterus and the ladies with the baby turning hands show up. Another quick ultrasound, baby powder dusted all over my belly, and it's time to convince this little man that he wants to go head down.

I have heard versions described in completely different ways. Everything from 'slight discomfort' to 'I would've never had one if I knew it was going to hurt like that. Just give me a c-section.' I found it to be the combination of someone giving you a deep tissue massage and an Indian burn at the same time. With Josh holding my right hand, my nurse holding my left, and the doctor and midwife shoving on the baby, all I could really think about was my breathing and trying to relax. I do remember hearing Josh telling me what a good job I was doing. And I remember when the doctor couldn't find the baby's head again halfway through the turn. I remember saying, "Oh dear, we've lost his head." And hearing everyone laugh. I remember my left leg flexing as the midwife's hands pushed across my tight left round ligament. I remember thinking they must almost be done and then them questioning if he had moved at all. A quick ultrasound showing that not only was he heading down, they were about to start pushing his head back up to the top! So they stopped that idea really quickly. We were done! He was head down and we simply needed to be monitored for the next hour to make sure everything still looked wonderful. What a feeling.

After arriving at home, I got to climb back into bed and sleep for the next 5 hours. Which was kind of fantastic, as the terb injection made me jittery and exhausted. And I'm probably going to go climb back into our king bed of comfort as soon as I finish writing this.

So, besides a successful version, what else could make this day better? We found out the new Chipotle is open- OH YEAH. We have been waiting oh so (im)patiently. So that was the second part of the day to celebrate. But wait, it gets better.

We went to the mall after Chipotle and found our third thing to celebrate. We finally found a back massager!!! So, this may come as a surprise, but these suckers are difficult to find. Target doesn't carry them until Christmas (come on! Tell me who only wants back massages near the holidays!?). Walmart doesn't carry them. No one carries them. Enter stage right: Bath and Body Works. Highly overpriced, but there they were in a little basket in the very back of the store. SOLD! Our hospital bags are now complete. Whew.

Today was: an exceptionally good day.

Happy Full Term, Baby.

So, it's been forever since I've blogged. But, in reality, I haven't felt I had that much to write about anyways. Life is moving forward at a pace that feels like a snail's slow, steady movement. And at the same time, I am shocked that it's already October and Baby P. is now considered full term. 37 weeks. It blows my mind.

Life changes? My belly is bigger. The nursery is ready and waiting. Braxton Hicks contractions now require I stop walking and wait it out. (Yes, they're still Braxton hicks, but they also happen to cause my right thigh to cramp up.) Josh now understands that every stop at every store requires a stroll through baby section to see if there are any other last minute items I need (want). Random strangers ask me when I'm due (and I love this... I've been waiting for this for quite some time!). They also feel compelled to tell me the worst labor stories they have heard (this I don't enjoy quite as much.) I grunt when I try to lean down, sit on the floor, get up, roll over, etc etc etc. I've finally gained the 25 pound minimum my midwives set for me. I have pitting edema when my shifts at work are over- which is actually quite entertaining on slow nights- how many fingerprints can I make in my leg before the first ones start disappearing???

I'm feeling quiet about life right now. Which is most likely God's faithful intervention to keep me from exploding with all the emotional ups and downs that come with the ending of pregnancy. See, Baby P. has been breech the entire pregnancy. Which is fine- common even. At 34 weeks, the midwives reported he was likely head down. Finally! He's in position and we're getting ready. But at our 36 week appointment, we discovered he is once again breech. At this point, it's getting kind of crowded in there and the odds of him flipping into position are starting to decrease. We started seeing the chiropractor every day and doing all the tricks- laying upside down, music and flashlight down on the lower part of my abdomen, a piece of ice near his feet- all the fun stuff. Apparently, he rather enjoys not hanging around upside down, as he's having none of it. So the next step is an external version- this basically involves being monitored at the hospital as they try to manually push the baby into place by pushing on my belly. They say it feels like a truck running over you. Which really made me feel confident as I signed the consent form. :) This is the last effort- if the version doesn't work, it appears we'll be having a c-section.

I think the hard part for me is the not knowing. At first I was incredibly disappointed by the thought of a c-section. Josh and I had wanted to have as natural a birth as possible- he opposite side of the spectrum from a major abdominal surgery. Obviously, our first priority is having a safe delivery and healthy baby, but this pregnancy has been absolutely perfect thus far- we didn't expect a wrench in the works at this point in time. Josh is fantastic- supportive and encouraging and accepting of whatever comes. I struggle with this a little more. The emotional ups and downs of "he's head down, he's breech, he might be head down, oh wait, he's still breech," over even a week have exhausted me. Which has brought me to a point of peace. The Lord knows this baby- He holds this baby in His magnificent, almighty hand- He knows when and how this baby will enter the world and every tiny detail about the coming weeks. And I can leave it at that. At this point, all I feel is joy at the coming of my baby, peace at however he makes his appearance, and tired. Also, I feel sudden, incredibly strong urges to go to the bathroom as this little man kicks and stretches his legs straight down into my bladder. Thanks, bud. I love you.

I'm a fan of my husband.

I've said it before, I'll say it again. My husband is just the greatest. You don't even know, and there is really no feasible way for you to find out unless you were married to him. And that is an opportunity I'm not going to give you. So, you'll just have to take my word for it.

To me, pregnancy has been somewhat like a second honeymoon phase. Except different. We know each other better and can communicate on a deeper level. We have dropped some of that "try to impress each other" act and can openly bare our deepest fears and thoughts and joys and concerns. And their is a tenderness, a feeling of complete empathy with and for one another.

I have never felt so deeply cared about as I have with Josh. And this is no hit on my parents or family. His level of tenderness and deep concern for me is overwhelming. Tears flood my eyes as I think of his commitment and steadfastness to me and our marriage. And our son.

I am spoiled. Spoiled by a man who truly considers me before himself. Who rigorously guards his eyes, thoughts, and heart. Who brings joy and completion to our home by simply being in it. Who softly kisses my shoulder or rubs my back when I'm tossing and turning at night. Who praises me for being such a good wife when the only thing I accomplished was vacuuming the carpet. Who puts away his studying or fantasy football to ask what he can do for me to make the evening special. Who reminds me of God's faithfulness. Even who God uses to bring conviction and growth and change into my life.

I am so, so thankful. For my husband.

Good grief. Where has the time gone?! Most likely I've used it up eating and sleeping, but I don't remember now. I suppose I should rehash some of what's happened in the time since I've last posted...

The day after I posted that Josh hadn't felt the baby move, he felt the baby for the first time. I don't remember much about it- the baby was moving around four in the morning, so I woke Josh up, grabbed his hand and placed it over the baby. The baby kicked and voila! Then Josh rolled back over and went back to sleep. I didn't know if Josh would remember the next morning, but he did. He's too classy of a fellow to dissappoint his wife by forgetting such a lovely event. :) Since then, BP (Baby Pattengale) has been a tornado inside me. These days we can just sit and watch my belly to see BP's movements and kicks. On the especially big movements, I can't help but yelp or giggle- people around me must think I'm out of my mind. Sitting on the couch staring at my belly giggling. It's a lovely time.

We also had our 20 week ultrasound. Apparently, BP is a boy. At least, that's what the tech said. She pointed to some picture and said "It's a boy! There is his ____." (We'll keep this rated pg.) We didn't feel too surpised by that- everyone except my grandpa was guessing male. It just seemed right. We are so excited to have a little boy. Josh is excited for sports and "father-son bonding." I'm just glad that I won't have to deal with girl emotions yet. I have enough of my own, thank you. Side note: I have cried at every mother-son wedding dance I've seen since finding out BP is a boy. At Josh's inquiry, I warbled, "I'm going to have to do that in twenty-some years! (Followed by more sobs and tears and unpleasantries. He responded quickly. "No you won't. Just don't allow dancing at his wedding!" Missed the point just a bit, maybe?)

I have been feeling really well almost the entire pregnancy. Besides being tired and having increased sciatic nerve pain (which was an issue for me even before pregnancy) I am feeling like one hot mama! I thrill everytime a stranger notices I'm pregnant, although I do have the evil desire to answer with, "No, I'm not pregnant. Why would you think that!?" I'm pretty much dying to try that just to watch the questioner's face. Of course, then I would let them off the hook. Haven't gotten the nerve to do it though. Maybe one of these days... (evil laugh).

I'm currently 28 weeks along. It blows my mind that in less than 10 weeks I will be considered full term. That is crazy and wonderful and incredibly scary. How does one make the final transition into becoming a mother? I'm sure it's a transition that takes place over time- the nights you are up all hours holding an inconsolable baby, the time spent in worry and the time better used in prayer, the sacrifices of time, finances, certain desires, self-will, and the knowing that it's all worth it. I have to constantly trust that the God who has always provided will continue. Otherwise, my finite wisdom and understanding will fall far short of the task ahead of me.

Goodness, I love my son.

Girl and boy rules for bathrooms aren't the same.

Today, I passed a large stone. Milestone, that is.

A lady at church realized I was pregnant and talked to me like it was obvious. No questions, no hesitation on whether I'm just chubby or not.

In the bathroom line at church, waiting (me- not so patiently) for our turns, we started discussing women going to the bathroom and how normally this lady and myself beat the rush. When I told her that I often have to leave during the last song to make my beeline for the bathroom, she said (and I quote)

"Well, you have a baby in your belly."
While she said this, she reached out and lightly tapped my stomach.



Stranger lady, you have stolen my heart.

Thank you.

Museum, I love you.

I have cried in many places- libraries, the back room of the ICU, the front of the ICU, the exercise room in Shatford, cars, closets... well, you get the picture. I have left trails of salty tears in many unique places.

I don't think I have ever before cried in the children's hands-on section of a museum. Until last Saturday.

A friend from work happened to have two free passes to the local museum which she passed on to us. And my dear husband agreed to set apart a Saturday morning and afternoon to take me there on a date. (I love dates with activities besides eating and movies- he makes my heart melt when he takes me to the zoo. Two days ago he simply offered to take me on a walk while we ate popsicles. As we slurped our way around the neighborhood I felt like the most cherished wife!)

Back to the point. The first exhibit we stopped at was pictures of different types of bacteria. I amused myself for a while by covering up the bacteria names and having Josh guess what they were. Lame? yes. Did we laugh? Yes. Next we moved to, (Drum roll please!) the children's activity room. Hands down, these sections are always our favorite. Today's exhibit was medical equipment. We completed a knee replacement, used a microscope to examine live cultures from doorknobs and keyboards, opened the chest cavity of a child mannequin (to discover he didn't have a heart- LAME!) and then, there it was. An ultrasound machine.

No way. There is NO way it works. There is no possibility that today, on this random and free date, I will see my child for the first time. I told these things to Josh as he sat before the machine and began turning knobs and dials. It wasn't working. I told him it wasn't going to. Then he had his moment of brilliance. The ultrasound probes weren't plugged in to the machine. He remedied that. He held the probe to his hand. It sure looked like an ultrasound of his hand. "Here Ericka." He gave the probe to me. I looked around, pulled up the stomach of my shirt, and gave it my best guess as far as placement.

I was still looking at my stomach when I heard Josh. "There's a hand!" With awe and such a feeling of complete wonder, I looked at the screen and saw my baby. There it is. There is its hand! And its head! And kneecaps and feet! And boy, it's an active little thing in there! I can't believe I don't feel it moving more often. Needless to say, this is where the tears come into the story. I can't believe, on this day that I was never expecting, this day that was a random, thoughtful gift from a coworker, I had the privilege to see my child. (To all you curious people out there: we weren't able to see if it is a boy or girl. I am a nurse, not an ultrasound technician.) Regardless, it was the most beautiful thing I have seen in my life thus far.

The rest of the museum was kind of a blur. I remember seeing a mummy without toes, gems from Brazil, Grecian urns, artifacts from Iowa's history. We saw the largest gold nugget ever found (worth over 3 million I think it was), extraordinary fossil samples, and costly Chinese shrines and statues. But my heart and my thoughts were back in that children's activity area, with that ultrasound machine that probably wasn't actually supposed to work, when Josh and I saw our precious baby for the first time. And the coolest part? The most wonderful and precious thing in that museum was our baby, and I got to take it home with me.













Ultrasound for $7.50 anyone?

Pop goes the belly.

They say your pregnancy belly just pops out in an instant. One moment your stomach was flat and smooth and lovely, then WHAM- you can see all the way to the back of your belly button. I'm inclined to say 'yes' and 'no' to this. I'm pretty sure I started bulging immediately after the pregnancy tests; however, I'm also pretty sure this was due to bloating. As far as the WHAM belly bulge, Josh says that happened to me. I'm not sure when or where the moment occurred, but the other day I was informed, "Wow! Your belly really is growing." Yes, that is why I now love my maternity jeans with the stretchy waistbands- they make me feel good. When I wake up, I'm always inclined to look down across my stomach. So far, above the belly button, it's flat as the fields of Indiana. And an inch below that (now gaping open) belly button, there is my baby bulge- sticking up an inch or two higher than everything else!

I'm obsessed with it.

I'm actually obsessed with touching my belly. I look like a fat hungry man visualizing a medium steak from Texas Roadhouse. Just rubbin' the belly- all. the. time. One of my midwives noted (outloud) at the last appointment that, "I look great and she would have never thought I was pregnant." My belly was seriously offended at that point.

On a different note than my ever growing and expanding and entertaining belly, the little person inside is moving- enough for me to notice! At work the other day (around 1:30ish am- I know because I looked at the time and decided to call Josh anyways) I was feeding a baby in the nursery and suddenly had the strangest feeling that someone was dragging a paintbrush lightly across the inside of my abdomen. Baby?! Is that you??? Of course, with me, tears are always near the surface (not just a pregnancy thing, bummer) so I fought back the onslaught of salty waters, called Josh (who was very excited and understanding for 1:30 at night when he had an 8K later that morning), and of course, rubbed my belly. Since then, baby makes his or her presence known several times a day. Sometimes just subtle movements repeatedly, one time I felt a nice solid kick. At this point, I'm not uncomfortable and every movement is met with joy and a spoken announcement to whomever is in hearing distance. "The baby just moved!" Josh hasn't gotten an opportunity to feel a good kick as they are still sporadic enough to keep me guessing. Word on the street (from all the other pregnant women on my hospital unit) is that feeling the baby move is one milestone that helps a dad get excited about the baby. Josh is already super pumped- he's going to blow a gasket one of these days.

On a side note, Josh is going to be such a great daddy! I could list all the reasons, but that would just be gushy. I'll put it in my baby journal instead. I will just repeat, he is going to be Such a great daddy. Also, last night I made him youtube and watch a birth with me. I think we were both completely grossed out. I know they call it a 'beautiful experience,' but I'm pretty sure the only part that's beautiful is actually getting to finally hold and know your baby. The stuff before that? Josh summed it up with "Just please, please don't make me watch the placenta come out." (I can't believe some people eat it. I mean, really, have they SEEN it!? Not to offend you if that's something you did... shudder. I do hear it's more palatable if you dry it and then grind it into a powder. If you're curious why in the world I would know that, you should hear some of the questions other nurses ask me because I'm a "Palmer wife." According to some of the best rumors, I'm going to knit a bag for the placenta/umbilical cord which I will leave attached to the baby until it rots and falls off, tattoo "NO VACCINES!" on my baby's chest, and call my contractions 'energy waves,' as 'contraction' is too negative of a word. Hot diggity!)

For now, I'm off to do my daily inspection for stretch marks (I hear the fairer skinned you are, the more you will get. Combine that with my super dry skin and we're going to have a desert in summer permanently tattooed across that lovely belly.
And I will show it to my child and say "Look what YOU did to me!!!" And then I will hold them in a long hug (as they are probably scarred from seeing my stomach) and tell them that they were worth every mark.

A grapefruit.

According to reliable sources, my uterus is now the size of a grapefruit. I like grapefruit anyways, so carrying one around inside me sounds perfectly great. I can definitely feel the firmness of my uterus and baby human at the lower part of my abdomen. It's so crazy to push lightly on my stomach and know somewhere, way deep inside, baby is moving around in it's little fluid home. In case you didn't catch that, it's SO CRAZY!!!

Pregnancy has been lovely so far! My sister always said she felt absolutely wonderful when pregnant (I'm assuming this is before she would get close to delivery- rumors say she was pretty miserable at that part), so I was hoping I would follow in her footsteps. And most of the time, I am! The first few weeks I felt the same as normal- just craving juicy fruits and lots of water. Around 8 weeks pregnant, I had my first bout with morning sickness, but as my night shift people would know, my morning sickness would start about midnight. The first night I was sick I was at work... I'd be in the middle of a conversation with a patient and I'd have to bolt from the room. Let me tell you though- working on postpartum gives me the kindest and most understanding group of patients ever! Also, they have a lot of advice. My midwives told me to eat protein more often to increase my blood sugar, thereby decreasing my nausea. Worked like a charm! And I got to eat more, which I am a fan of.

After that, I've felt absolutely fantastic! I sleep all the time, but that was true even before pregnancy. The exhaustion has dissipated as I move further into my second trimester. I've had two OB visits- the first mostly a lot of education and checking to make sure everything (ahem... below) looked fine. The most amusing part of the entire appointment? Halfway through the (ahem) exam when the midwife said, "Well, everything's looking good. Josh? You want to come take a peek?"

The second appointment was lovely- the first time we got to hear the heartbeat of our baby. It was lovely. I'd post a video on here, but my computer is giving me some attitude at the current moment. It's on facebook for you curious readers...

I'm trying to think of anything interesting that has happened currently- I like pickles these days. I bought them on a whim, as I am apparently supposed to like pickles these days. But ever since I've started eating them, I want them all the time! They're so cold, so crunchy, sour and salty and delicious! I can't eat them near Josh; he tells me they reek. But they're so tasty!!! Also, I'm loving pink lady apples, watermelon, salsa, and cheetos. So, so good.

I've got to go. Talking about pickles and not actually eating one is driving me crazy. Guess I'm going to need to go to the store for a refill tomorrow...

Day 1 of Pregnancy... and beyond.

So, we left off with Josh and I just finding out about the baby in ma' belly. Let's continue, shall we?

The day we found out about the pregnancy we spent countless hours exploring- hoping to find a Urgent Care center to do a pregnancy test. This proved to be more challenging than expected. First of all, we were staying in a retirement center. Not much of a demand for OB doctors. Gynecologists, yes. Obstetricians? No. The second issue? Apparently, if you ask for a pregnancy test at the ONE urgent care center we were able to find, they won't do it. If, however, you go in complaining of nausea, stomach slightly funky, and a late period, they would do the test. I wish I would have known this beforehand. BAH. So, after several hours, we simply decided to wait until we got home to Iowa and set up an appointment with an OB/GYN. Everyone is probably thinking 'duh' at the moment; but you've got to understand... Josh and I behaved ourselves the previous month! :) There was just no way those two pregnancy tests were right! Ha.

We decided (mostly me, because I am AWFUL at secrets and surprises... I just get too excited!) to go ahead and tell family and close friends. So, we started off with my sister Rachel on Skype. Just chitchatting and shooting the breeze, then WHAM! Positive pregnancy test held up to the camera. Boo yah! I am really not sure if she was more excited that I was pregnant or that she was the first to know, but it is safe to say there was excitement. Next, it was time to tell Nanny and Papa- after all, they were letting us stay with them in FL and it is going to be their first great grandbaby! We made a Christmas list of baby items (Christmas gifts are a REAL big thing in their family) and told them we just wanted to get our Christmas list in early. I think Nanny got down to the third item- probably diapers, bottles, or crib... and then exploded out of her chair. Literally, like an explosion. Of tears, questions, laughter. Of course, I started crying too and everyone just got so tickled. It was super.

We told my parents via skype- pretty much the same WHAM! in your face method as Rachel. Dad's first words? "You better not be!" Ha. Whoops. He probably didn't want that to go down in the record. (Of course, in reality he is very pleased. He met and patted my belly this weekend when we saw him for the first time since the news. And he texts me freqently to ask how I'm doing. Such a sweetie.) Mom kept asking if it was true and then cried. Which of course, got me crying again. The only thing better would have been to be able to tell them face to face. But I would have been almost in my 2nd trimester by the time we could have traveled to see them. And that is much too long for me to keep a secret.

Cindy Pattengale found out the next day at dinner, when she flew in with some of Josh's brothers for a weekend in the sun. To celebrate her birthday, we bought a little green onsie that says, "I heart grandma." It was so fun to watch the confusion turn in to excitement as she analyzed the meaning of the gift. Mike simply said, "She can't fit into that, guys." And then, of course, the necessary questions and tears. This is getting to be a habit. We were going to try to skype Jerry, but on Cindy's recommendation just called instead. This was probably one of my favorite moments. Jerry almost reverted to some old form of English, speaking in way that, well, no one speaks anymore. The only quote I actually remember, however, is "Oh, this is just such a blessing." Those words bring such joy and peace to my heart. Baby, you are a blessing. Thank you God, for you perfect plan and timing and the joy You have brought into our lives.

The rest of vacation is kind of a blur- I remember thinking, "I'm pregnant!" about a billion times. How am I supposed to focus on anything else when I've got a pea-sized little person inside me!? The mental shift is incredible- suddenly everything I do, eat, drink... the way I try to lie when I'm going to sleep... it's all first put through this weird 'mommy-filter.' Will this be okay for the baby? Will this help the baby? Will this hurt the baby? Oh, I need to start drinking milk. Gross. Oh, that tastes good. There you go baby! Baby doesn't feel like washing the dishes. Baby wants ice cream. (Ok, some of those things weren't direct messages from the baby.)

My first OB appointment was scheduled for around 4 weeks after we got home from FL. Again... that is too long of a time to wait! I needed proof that I was really preggers! As if the four pregnancy tests (yes, the number changed to four... per Nanny's request) weren't enough. But that first OB appointment should probably be another post. This current post is long enough to print out and wear as a dress. Albeit, a minidress.

I'm pregnant. This might be a news flash for those of you who just haven't found out yet.

I've known for about a month, so I'm about right on par for the time it took me to blog about it. Josh and I were on a lovely vacation down in Florida celebrating... oh I don't know... life? A break between his school trimesters? The opportunity to see the sun? All of the above, most likely. (And, of course, a big thank you to the Pattengale parents and Rowe grandparents for making it possible.) We stayed with Josh's grandparents down in The Villages, FL. I think everyone should go there. It's like Disney for old people. Everyone is driving tricked out golf carts and doing nothing but playing bocce ball and cards and soaking up the skin cancer. They have large town squares and bring in live bands every night so the old folks can shake their new metal hips like never before. It's just wonderful!

Josh and I spent our first several days lounging at pools, catching up on sleep, eating ice cream and sorbet and steak and other delicious things. We really did have a great time! One night Josh and I decided to spend an evening by ourselves... you know, stroll hand in hand down the pier making witty comments about the girl (who looked like she was trying waaaayyy to hard) having her man take "modeling" shots of her, taking pictures of the lighthouse and necessary seagulls, stopping frequently for me to go to the bathroom (necessary even before pregnancy), and wondering in and out of shops. On the way to the second town square, we pulled the golf cart over on the side of the path and watched the sun go down over the lake. 'Beautiful' doesn't really cut it sometimes. We also stopped and picked up hair gel, face wash, and pregnancy tests at the local mart. (The pregnancy thing was more Josh's idea. See, he wanted me to prove to myself that I wasn't actually pregnant. And from past experience, he is usually right. Night shift = havoc on my body, so I've gone through a fortune worth of pregnancy tests. I actually bought prenatal vitamins and would make myself take them for a week. That way I would be doing everything right if I was pregnant and would feel free to wait a little longer to take a prego test. It's actually cheaper that way. Then, a week later, if there was still a possibility, off to the store for a pregnancy test. Again.) We stashed our little purchases in the golf cart and then continued to enjoy the night at the spanish town square- drinking coffee and sharing a cookie from panera, wandering from vendor booth to vendor booth, enjoying the heaviness of the warm air. It was one of those romantic nights you read about in sappy romance novels. Sigh.

Moving to 7am the next morning. I'm awake. I've got a pregnancy test in a bag beside the bed. I've got to pee. Perfect. So, waiting those 3 full minutes. Watching the pee move across the dipstick nervously. Seeing a faint second line. "That's just wishful thinking, Ericka." Hmm. That line is getting darker. There are definitely two lines. OHHHHH MYYYYY GOOOOOOOOOODNESS.

"Josh. Wake up. Look at this. Do you see two lines?"
"I can't see. Turn the light on."
Click.
Silence.

"So, um, am I pregnant? DOES THIS MEAN I'M PREGNANT??!"
I belly flop onto the bed beside him. (Whoops, maybe I shouldn't belly flop anymore.)
"I don't know Ericka."
"Let's take a picture of us!"
"No."
Camera flash!
"Let's take the second test later."

Thirty minutes later. I'm thinking I just might be able to pee again. Two lines. Faster than last time. I slid open the door to the bathroom far enough to make eye contact with Josh. Two nods from me.

We're pregnant.

And of course, we're very excited about this. But right now in the story, we're more in the shock stage. And I feel awful stopping my post without getting to us being super excited and happy and delirious about it, but I'm at work. When you're at work, work comes first. And my shift is almost over, so I've got a few things to finish. So, perhaps in another month I'll get on past the first hour of finding out...

It is Well.

After I posted my blog on desiring gentleness, I was sent several emails and messages with the general idea that God made me who I am and I do not have to be a quiet person to be a gentle spirit. When reviewing my heart and my goals, I realized changing my personality was never in question for me. It was more of “how does the me that God created become the me God can create for the future.” I know it has to be in His Spirit and power, but how does that begin? Where do I start?

I suppose I will start with submission to God. Tonight I ran across a blog of a woman near my age discussing gentleness- she ended with the suggestion to read the writings of Matthew Henry, a Presbyterian minister and Bible commentator from the 1600's. In his book The Quest for Meekness and Quietness of Spirit, Matthew Henry described meekness as submission to God’s plan and immediate acceptance of God’s Word- the kind of blanket acceptance that leaves you ready to be molded by what you read and what is revealed. I know this is probably just an incomplete summation of the first few paragraphs of his thoughts, but hey, I am going off the sneak peak provided by Amazon. And honestly, this is probably a big enough chunk for me to work on while I wait for my newly ordered book to arrive. Blanket acceptance and submission. Contentment with God’s plan and provision. Being at peace with my Heavenly Father. Saying, “It is well with my soul.” Yes, that is enough to work on for right now.

Bragging Rights

Not that I'm a fan of bragging, but I just have to tell you about my hubster. I'm so stinkin' proud of him! He is thriving at Palmer. Not only is he killing it in the grades category, but he completed his first chiropractic adjustment a few weeks ago- we're getting into that phase of school as he nears his halfway point at Palmer. A few days after giving this adjustment, as he was walking through the hall, he heard a voice. "Hello Master Adjuster Josh." Josh turned around, like, "What?" His professor, who had watched the adjustment was standing there and began to compliment Josh's speed and talent at the previous adjustment. Of course, I freaked out when Josh relayed this story to me. I already think Josh hung the moon, but now he's a master adjuster too!?

Man, my husband is awesome. :)

Gentle.

Tonight was small group. We get together with other couples from Palmer who also attend our church, Harvest Bible Chapel, Davenport. Tonight's theme for the girls seemed to hinge on God's calling for us to be suitable helpers to our husbands. And what that looks like. And how difficult it can be.

This is a nice place to segue into the Word. 1 Peter 3:3-5a.
"³ Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. ⁴ Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. ⁵ For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to adorn themselves.

This is difficult for me. I think it's likely difficult for women in general, especially in our society. We are loud, powerful in the workforce, driven. So what does gentleness look like for a woman of God who is a respected professional in the workforce? What is this gentleness, this quietness we are supposed to embody as an act of worship to God? I must admit, I am instantly drawn to the idea of being a gentle, supportive helper for Josh. But I also can have a very loud, demanding, abrupt, controlling and emotional side. A loud personality that is high energy. I need to learn how to fit who I am into who God wants me to be. And cut out the parts that don't fit into God's plan for me.

At small group, the girls talked about picking a word of the year. This word would be something we want to work on- something that is our focus for the year.

I am picking the word 'gentle.' I suppose I need to figure out what that looks like first. But I want to be changed, really deep inside. I want to be like the holy women of old and make myself beautiful from the inside out. I want to please my husband, to be a calm harbor in a world that can be so rough. God willing.

Would love your thoughts on what gentleness looks like and how you have developed this in your own life...