News provided by Cystic Fibrosis News Today

Thursday, January 21, 2016

Being The Parent to a Teenager (With Cystic Fibrosis) Is Hard

It's been awhile since I've answered a question through the blog, or written anything for that matter, so hopefully this spurs me into writing more blogs!



Hey Ronnie. Hope you have been doing well! Question for u. I'm hoping u can give me some insight as to whether or not I'm being too nagging of a mom or not, and to see if you went through some of the feelings/emotions ______ is dealing with right now. 
First, please understand that it is essentially impossible to be a parent and not a nag. I can't imagine a world in which a caring and loving parent doesn't nag once in a while. Now, an apathetic parent won't nag, but if you're an apathetic parent and your child has cystic fibrosis, he or she is probably screwed.
He is 14 yo BTW. 
Say no more! I have known very few, if any, unemotional, or frankly, level-headed 14 year-olds. Certainly some of his response can be as an indirect result of having cystic fibrosis, but it is more likely due to many of the same issues most 14 year-olds go through socially, physically and mentally.
Anyway, he had his clinic visit last week. Not a great visit for him, as his weight and BMI continue to drol, along with the fact he has this lingering cough that reoccur after being off oral antibiotics for a week or 2. Anyway, since that visit he has been not himself. He is usually a pretty laid back, go with the flow, happy...and compliant....kid. But something changed in him after that appt. 
We all like to feel like we're in control and doing a "good job". My guess is that he felt like he had lost some control over his body and as a result "failing". With many CF patients I've known over the years a common response is, "What's the point of taking such good care of myself if it doesn't really matter anyway?". With this, they are saying that death is inevitable and taking good care of themselves doesn't seem worth it. In my opinion of course, they are missing the point. Yup, we're all going to die. I'm not concerned about that. I'm much more concerned about being at the top of my game while I'm alive. It would really suck to feel terrible, hate life and then die. I like the prospect of feeling good, loving life and then dying much better.
I've really been on his case about him taking over more responsibility when it comes to remembering to take his pills, especially his appetite stimulant. I've also been on his case that he needs to be eating more, as I'm afraid if his BMI drops anymore they'll want to do a feeding tube for nighttime.
I'm sure that he is more than aware of the possible consequence of not maintaining a healthy weight. You'd think that'd be a deterrent wouldn't you? Now, who has the ultimate decision to make whether or not he would get a feeding tube if he were to drop below a satisfactory weight? Are you going to make the decision? Will he?
Last night I saw a side of _____ I've never seen. After having a lengthy discussion about him just eating fries for lunch and not taking his pill, he freaked out. Went up to his room and was so angry he kicked the wall putting a hole in it. 
First, I hope that he will be paying to fix the wall. Second, sounds like a teenager. Third, he sounds ripe for natural consequences of his choices. Just as the consequence for kicking a hole in the wall is figuring out how to pay to repair it, the natural consequence of not taking your appetite stimulant and maintaining a healthy weight is medical intervention. It's not a punishment, it's just the result of his choice. Now, if he's making the decision and elects not to get a g-tube, he'll have to deal with those consequences as well.

On a personal note, my mom made basically every medical decision for me until I moved out of the house at 20 years of age. If I lived under her roof, I went by her rules. Her number 1 rule for me was to do what was best for my health. Missing treatments wasn't a option and I often had a tune-up if my numbers slipped just a bit.
Mind you, this is sooooo out of character for him. I tried getting him to talk about what he was feeling, but couldn't get him to open up. I'm guessing he's annoyed as heck with me nagging him about all this CF stuff, and I think he's just plain pissed he can't be a "normal" kid and not have all the worries/responsibilities that CF brings. 
So, is his big issue the appetite stimulant? If he does all his other therapies, which require a lot more time, but has an issue with a pill, I feel like there is something bigger going on. Does he take it at home? Id his issue taking it at school?
My heart is sad for him. I explained to him I don't mean to be a nag....that I am just trying the best I know how to prepare him for taking care of himself when he goes off to college. 
I'm sorry. Being a parent is sooooo hard. Being a parent to someone with a chronic illness can be even tougher.
Do you remember getting upset with your folks like this when it came to CF stuff? 
I'm sure I had my moments, but honestly, my mom established early that it was her way or the highway. I got upset about plenty of stuff, but generally speaking, it wasn't CF related. Maybe it was because the burden of treatment time wasn't as lengthy for me when growing up? Remember, I didn't have a Vest until I was 19 and Pulmozyme came out when I was 14 or so. Until I was 14, I only got pounded by hand twice a day, did albuterol and of course the various pills.
Any words of wisdom or advice you could give me would be appreciated more than you know. Sorry to ramble on, bit I thought you'd be a great person for me to get some input from. Thanks.
I don't have many regrets, but one of them makes since to share here. I made some very bad decisions when I thought life was all about me, friends, school/work, sports and having fun. I've ALWAYS loved my life, but I definitely made decisions in spite of CF and far too often ignored my CF to "be one of the guys" and not let CF or my treatments get in the way. I always felt like a fit in, that wasn't it, but I was too stubborn to let CF cause me to "miss out" on something. If it were a choice between doing a treatment or getting ready to hang with friends, guess what I would do? Deciding to get to the bar early or do my nighttime treatment often resulted in me getting to the bar early. Getting a mid-day treatment in was often trumped by working as much as I could during the day.

Looking back, none of that mattered. Did I have fun? YUP! Was I helping people and making the world a better place? I hope. Would I take it all back to not have to do so many treatments now and miss time with my family? In a heartbeat. I can't tell you how many Valentine Days and anniversaries I've missed because I was in the hospital. It sucks. I feel guilty. I feel completely selfish for the decisions I made in my 20's that lead to a huge drop in my health.

I wish I wouldn't have "lived" so much then so I could live with my family more now. I wasn't nearly mature enough to realize that then and honestly, I don't know what someone could have said or done to change those decisions.

As a parent, I think you need to try and picture yourself 10 years from now and look back and make decisions now that you'll be comfortable with. Make sense?

My mom was tough. There were a lot of times that she wasn't nice. I certainly "hated" her in some moments. But I know she can look back with confidence in the decisions she made with me knowing that they were the best at that time and with the son she had. I love her to pieces and am so thankful for the mom that she was.

Thursday, December 10, 2015

To port or not to port?

That was really never a question for me.

I've been getting PICC lines for the last 20 years or so and with nearly (over?) 50 under my belt, the answer to getting a port or not was an easy one - If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Well, that was the easy answer.

Recently, I've had issues with my PICC lines that started making me open to the idea of actually entertaining a port. It started with PICC line placements taking longer and longer because of so much scar tissue and switching to the other arm when the first one was "shut off". Then there was the time (last year on Thanksgiving) that the PICC line got stuck in my arm the day of discharge and the worry that came along with thinking it may have snapped and was now making it's may through my body. The straw that broke the camel's back, and my tag line, was this last hospital stay in April when they had to leave the line short and weren't able to do any blood draws from it. That became particularly sucky when I had to spend two weeks in the ICU and 35 days total in the Hole with multiple stabs and blood draws.

In short, it's broken.

After I was released, the decision was made - next time I get a tune-up, I'm going with a port.

Well, that time is now.

A port was placed last week and the procedure was actually faster and less painful than getting a PICC placed. There was (and still is) a recovery period with some pain, but it was the same, albeit a longer period with a port, with the PICC.

I was always asked why I didn't get a port (see my answer above), but I thought it would be fair to all of you guys to really think about the answer and try to articulate it in a blog. Here is my attempt.

1. I never liked the idea of leaving the hospital with a medical object in my body. In fact, I'm still not wild about that idea, but it is what it is. What I loved about the PICC line was the fact that when I went home after a hospital stay, I felt like I left the hospital at the hospital. Let me remind you (maybe contrary to what you might think), I don't think about my cystic fibrosis that often. I'm too busy with life. I'm too busy thinking about others' cystic fibrosis. Frankly, I don't see a reason to think about my disease. Doesn't move the ball forward. By leaving with a port in my chest, I'm afraid that I may think about CF more than I want to when I look into the mirror...although I guess you could
argue that the 6 inch scar on my belly would do that.

2. A port always seemed to be the "next (unwanted) step" in the CF life. If you haven't noticed, I like to be different. I don't find my identity in having a disease and therefore try to avoid doing "disease things". I don't know how to put that more eloquently. If I was supposed to live a certain way, feel a certain way or die a certain way because of cystic fibrosis, I would fight like hell not to. I've always been good at compartimentalizing my CF and separating myself from all of the sickness and dying around me, while still being fully immersed in the community. Getting a port just felt like I was taking a step towards being more disease and less Ronnie.

3. I've always been worried about any limitations, real or perceived, with a port. The first two objections I had can be easily overcome as they are mostly mental. I've always prided myself on my mental approach to (CF) life (thanks Mom!!) and there is no doubt that I'll be able to look past (or justify) the medical object in my body and the next step in the CF life, but it's hard to look past limitations that could be physical ones. I've heard the stories. Friends of mine who had to stop certain workouts because of the port. A gentleman in the community who had to change careers due to a port. I don't like being limited. Part of my comeback story has been the ability to push myself in the gym and live life like a nut. If I feel at all inhibited in doing so, I'm afraid of the mental impact caused by the physical limitation. With that said, we've all seen some amazing athletes with CF and a port.

So there you have it. I tried to be as honest and thoughtful with this post in identifying the road mental block to getting a port. Now that the port is in my chest, there is no turning back. I'm all in. I will own this silly little button in my chest and use it as a reminder to push myself even harder to avoid taking the "next step" in this CF life.

Plus, my wife thinks it's sexy. And that my friends, doesn't suck :)

Monday, November 9, 2015

Becoming a Foster FAMILY

We got into foster care because we have a heart for kids in need. Our hearts broke for kids who needed a loving home, and we wanted to serve as their family in their time of need. We always thought we may even grow our family through fostering. But when we thought we would grow our family through fostering, we assumed it would be through adoption. However, this week we realized that we may grow our family through fostering in an entirely different way.

Last Tuesday, Mckenna said she missed Baby N and that she hoped we could see her again. So we decided to text Baby N's mom, Andrea, to see how they were and if she'd like to meet for a playdate at a park. And to our surprise, she said she would love to. So on Thursday, we picked them up and headed for a park to catch up. Baby N looked wonderful. She was happy, healthy, and had grown a ton. We weren't sure how much she recognized us, but we sure recognized her. We were all delighted to see her sweet face and give her snuggles again. At that playdate, we found out that mom was pregnant again, and due in mid December. We told her we were happy to help in any way that we could.

Fast forward just over 24 hours later and we received a text from Andrea saying she thought her water broke. We offered to take her to the hospital to have things checked out and watch Baby N. Sure enough, her water broke, so I went to the hospital to keep her company once she was admitted, and Ronnie stayed home with Mckenna and Baby N. All weekend long, we were Andrea and Baby N's "family". They had no one else on those days. Baby N stayed with us, and I went to and from the hospital, alternating between keeping Andrea company and leaving so she could rest. It was so amazing getting to spend time with Andrea: chatting, laughing, and sharing stories.

Thankfully, yesterday afternoon they had some family get here to help and support. We dropped Baby N at the hospital to see Andrea and their extended family. And Baby N's grandma was able to take her for the night.

I received a text message at 4:21AM saying: "Just wanted to let you know that (Baby M) was finally born. Thank God :)"

When we got into fostering, we wanted to help children in need. As we went through the training, we learned that fostering wasn't about just helping babies, but that it was a platform through which we could show their families' God's love, in possibly some of their most desperate moments. We never knew what this would look like. We didn't know how we would do it. And for most of the time Baby N was under our roof, we didn't do it. Sure we did it in little ways. We did many of the drops off and pick ups to have some interaction with Andrea. We tried to go above and beyond to make mom feel comfortable with us. We worked hard to advocate on Andrea's behalf. Never in a million years did we think that when Baby N went home, we were maybe only starting to really show her God's love.

What I learned through this weekend is that by taking in a foster baby, you are actually growing your family, by a whole family. And there's nothing more beautiful than that.

Needless to say, Mckenna was thrilled to have her buddy back.

My other hospital buddy...since I'm nursing so much, he came along.

Two peas...

Killing time!

Pile on!

Amazing to snuggle my little love again!

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

"We are the result of His design"

In church on Sunday, the pastor was talking about how we are made. How we are made intentionally and with a purpose. He said, "we are the result of His design." And it reminded me of the blog I've been meaning to write for awhile...since our long stint in the ICU in May.

When we were in the thick of it with Ronnie, after a couple failed attempts to embolize the last spot, the bleeding was still continuing, and "solutions" being thrown around seemed more like threats than solutions. Everyone became apologetic. Ronnie, with a warped personality from all of the medication, would sleepily and tearfully apologize after most bleeds. He would apologize for putting me through this. He would apologize that we were where we were instead of at home. He would apologize that he didn't make better choices in his early twenties with regards to treatments. All of these were unnecessary apologies. I would tell him that he had no reason to be sorry and to quiet his mind and just get some rest, and then usually, he would dose off (as he was in and out of sleep most of the time). 

But on this day, when tensions were especially high, he apologized again, in a way that sounded outlandish and broke my heart all at the same time. We sat there discussing the state of affairs (which usually looked like me talking and him falling asleep and waking back up to semi agree and ask me to repeat what I just said)...and then Ronnie said, with tears in his eyes, "I'm sorry if you feel like I've tricked you." He continued on to apologize for the fact that he had been so "healthy" most of the time that I knew him (except his little hiccup in 2009), and then boom, we were at a very different place. Now, in his unmedicated mind, I know he wouldn't say this. He would reason through the fact that I google a lot, I know him well, I know CF well, I work in the CF world, so no, he didn't trick me. I knew exactly what I was signing up for. I probably knew more possibilities than most people. But I also knew that this comment did stem from somewhere, even if just a small, microscopic fraction of what he believes.

It broke my heart.

So I did the only thing I knew to do. I held him close and began reassuring him that I, in no way, felt tricked. And then I got stern. "Stop apologizing," I finally said. "Just stop." And then it hit me...he needed to know that I still loved his CF. That all the stuff I always said about CF was still true, even on that day. Because it was.

Psalm 139:14 says, “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

That's it. That's all either one of us needs to know in any situation CF brings us through. So that's what I said. We are all the result of God's perfect plan. He doesn't make mistakes. He knit us together in our mothers' wombs, exactly as he wanted us to be. We were created in a way that made us uniquely equipped to bring Him glory; in a way that would serve Him best on earth. Ronnie is fearfully and wonderfully made. Not in spite of his CF. Not in lieu of his CF. Not most of him, except maybe his CF was an accident. All of Ronnie was a deliberate choice made by an all knowing and all powerful God who loves him and wants the very best for him. So when CF rears it's head and lands us in the ICU, no one should feel like they need to apologize, there's simply nothing to apologize for. In fact, I would argue CF is one of the things that is most unique about Ronnie, and therefore something about him that I believe God has used most in his life, is currently using most in his life, and will continue to use most in his life to bring Him (God) honor, glory, and fame. So instead of apologizing for where it has landed us, we should instead, in the moment, step back and look to see where God is using it to work.

We are all "assembled" on purpose, just the way we are. Wonderfully made.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Quick and Healthy Snack and Meal Options

I've been trying to trim down a bit. It got to the point where I felt uncomfortable in most of my clothes and I finally saw a number on the scale that "forced" me to buckle down. I'm one of the fortunate CF patients who doesn't struggle to gain weight (or lose). I have the opposite problem (even though I am pancreatic insufficient...maybe my enzymes work too well. Ha!) I lost about 20 lbs during my last hospital stay, as I wasn't eating much and when I did, I was choking things down because I knew I had to. When I got out, I was battling nausea and knew that I needed calories to regain strength, so I was eating anything I could stomach. Well my nausea subsided and my appetite came back, and I continued to eat anything I wanted, packed those 20 lbs back on, and then some. About two months ago I decided to go on a diet, or maybe more accurately, a responsible eating plan :) Here are my go-to healthy snacks and meals:

Sandwiches - There are endless sandwich options. My usual sandwich of choice is a turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomato and yellow mustard. But I do like to sneak in a grilled cheese with turkey and tomato, or a tuna melt, from time to time.

Egg white scrambles - I throw some egg whites into a pan with any veggie I can find in my fridge. This helps me hit my protein quota for the day.

Hardboiled eggs - Quick, easy, and another good protein source.

Protein bars - We started ordering Pure Protein protein bars off of Amazon. They have some really good flavors. I eat them as a quick snack, or as my fatty snack with my nightly dose of Orkambi.

Soups - Another quick option I gravitate to are canned soups. I sometimes leave them as they are, while other times I add hot sauce or extra ingredients to beef them up as they are usually of the "light" variety.

Turkey Burgers - We buy frozen turkey burgers from Costco. I bake 4-6 in the oven at a time, and then reheat them for the next few days. I eat my burgers bun-less, usually topped with some kind of sauce.

Beefy Jerky - I could snack on beef jerky multiple times a day. Not only does it taste good, but it's full of protein, so it keeps me feeling full for awhile.

I started two months ago at 196 lbs and even after multiple work trips (where the streams of food were endless) I'm down to about 176 lbs. I'll probably continue until I'm in the 160's and then start adding back muscle in a more healthy way.

Monday, September 28, 2015

Supermoon Sunday

Mckenna has been asking for about a month to go to the park after dark. It was still pretty light out until after Mckenna's bedtime this last month, so I had been vetoing the idea (Mama doesn't like to budge on bedtime for everyone's sanity...plus it was still pretty hot out so we only had been going early mornings). Last night's supermoon presented the perfect time to treat Mckenna to the park after dark, not to mention the supermoon wasn't that late (the moon was fully eclipsed here by 7:15PM). So even though it was still over 100 degrees when we headed out for the park, we went for it.

Little man was a bit fussy before we left...so I was already wearing him. There's nothing like essentially being wrapped in a giant blanket, wearing a human, in 100 degree weather...

...it made Bennett sweat like a pig also...little grease ball!

Blurry action shot, but at least you can make out that her mouth is open in delight! Daddy brings danger to swinging...and it's entertaining for everyone.

Why does it look so big in person, and so small when I tried to get a picture?

Racing home. Bennett and I clearly lost.

I say, "Smile"...I get this.

I say, "Come on, smile"...I get this. There's no hope.

I think it was getting so hot Bennett was trying to escape.

Ronnie says, "smile"...he gets this. There's really no hope.

 Family selfie!

Photo bomb!

It was a fun way to end the weekend and see the supermoon!

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

It's the Little Things...

It's the little things that make life beautiful. We're trying to sit back and appreciate all the little moments that this time in our life brings. I wanted to share a couple with you!

 It's the way Mckenna adoringly gazes at her brother.

It's the way Bennett screams in his carseat until he feels me close to him
...even if it's just holding my finger.

It's the new appreciation for what your big kid can already do.

It's the exhausting joy of balancing the needs of two (this is Bennett asleep on a lounge chair during a playdate while Mckenna swam with her best buddy)

                                                          


















It's getting to see a glimpse of your baby as a future mommy...she's a true multi-tasker.

It's snuggles in the middle of the night because sometimes cribs aren't as cozy.

It's snuggles during the day because most the time mommy just wants to feel you close.

It's really just snuggles anytime because there is nothing better than newborn snuggles.

It's the joy of looking out at one love and down at another and realizing your hands are full.

It's the feeling that your family is complete and your heart is fuller!

There are some many moments that can be missed with a newborn. I know that with Mckenna I was too anxious and worried all the time to really enjoy it for what it was. It's lacking sleep, it's uncertain, it's unpredictable, but it's so, so beautiful. I've chosen to enjoy it for exactly what it is...sleep will come later, routine will some sometime, today is perfect as it is.

Monday, September 14, 2015

Bennett's Birth Story

Our long-awaited, fervently prayed-for little blessing, Bennett Eric Sharpe, arrived September 1st at 1:55 AM in a whirlwind delivery. And because I love birth stories, I’ll share his!

On Monday evening at 5PM, I went to my usual HIIT class at the gym. Mid warm-up, right after some bear crawls and half way through a set of walking lunges, I felt a gush. I quickly ran to the bathroom to assess if it was my water that broke, or if I had instantly become massively incontinent. It appeared to be the former, but I figured I’d test it out. So I went back to class and jumped right back into the warm-up. Sure enough, I felt another gush, so I grabbed my stuff and hurried to get Mckenna, fearing that I may end up making a huge scene, and mess, if I didn’t get out of the gym quickly.

I waited a couple hours to make sure that I continued to leak fluid before calling the midwife. It wasn’t a constant flow as Bennett was so low he acted like a cork most of the time. We decided since this was probably it that we should take Mckenna for ice cream after dinner to have a special outing just the 3 of us before we became a family of 4.


After ice cream we decided it was time to call the midwife and update her of my status, as well as call my parents to have them get ready to come down to our house. It was relatively uneventful for a period of time. I wasn’t having any contractions other than my usual nightly, frequent, strong Braxton Hicks. The midwife told me to hang at home until the contractions got too intense to talk or walk through them or until 5AM, whichever came first.

Around 9PM my parents got to our house. My dad planned to spend the night with Mckenna and my mom was going to join us at the hospital. We watched TV while I bounced on a birthing ball and walked around the kitchen, trying to get something to happen. At 10:30PM, we decided to go to bed, so we could be well-rested when things started happening.

I was laying in bed watching The Office on Netflix while Ronnie did a treatment, when I felt an odd pop and at the same instant, my first contraction. It wasn’t all that strong, but was a definite contraction. I hopped out of bed to let Ronnie know that my contractions had started, but then got back in bed figuring it would be awhile. At around 11PM, Ronnie’s treatment was done and he joined me in bed. We sat watching The Office and chatted as contractions came and went…I wasn’t timing them however because I was just going to head to the hospital when I couldn’t stand them any longer, but they were pretty frequent. At around 11:15PM, I said to Ronnie that I didn’t think it would be long before we were going to have to head to the hospital because things felt like they were picking up quickly...contractions were tolerable, but strong. Ronnie decided to get out of bed and take a quick shower. By 11:30PM I could tell the train was moving quickly down the tracks and told Ronnie we better get our stuff in the car and start moving towards the hospital. The contractions weren’t awful, but I knew that with Mckenna I didn’t have contractions that I couldn’t talk or walk through until I was in transition (which I progressed through quickly), so I knew I better hedge my bets or baby would be born at home accidentally. At 12AM we woke up my parents to say we were headed to the hospital, but told them to sleep some more and that we would call them when we were checked in and had an update.

Standing outside the hospital

We arrived at the ER at 12:17AM with contractions every 2-3 minutes (I started timing them on the way because I knew they’d ask me when we arrived). They brought me a double-wide wheel chair (you know the kind…the wheelchair a family of 5 could fit in) to sit in while we waited for someone to come wheel me up to OB triage. At this point the contractions were manageable, but very strong. Ronnie and I chatted in between contractions, and when one would hit, I would just close my eyes, hold myself up by pushing on the arms of the wheel chair to relieve some of the pressure, and let my brain go blank until it passed…and then it was back to chatting.

This is Ronnie's stink face...I usually get a stink face vs a smile when I try to take a picture of Ronnie

We soon realized that they were swamped in labor and delivery. By this time it was 12:45AM, and no one had come for me. Contractions were intense, but I didn’t think there was a huge sense of urgency, since my contractions only started 2 hours prior. So we waited patiently. Finally one of the ER nurses wheeled us up because it became apparent no one was coming.

At 12:50AM we arrived in OB triage. I really hate OB triage…especially on night’s like that night. Every bay was filled. You could hear women laboring, moaning and groaning. I’m all for laboring like you need to labor, but I’d rather not have to hear it, as I am very much in my own mental space when in labor, and try to mentally diminish what I am feeling…using internal dialogue to tell myself that it’s just pressure; that it’s not too bad; that it’s all relative; that pain is progress…you name it. Between contractions I’m talking and jovial; during contractions I’m quiet, focused, calm and collected. I enjoy labor. I think it's miraculous and beautiful. And I want to make it fun for myself and for Ronnie. Somehow hearing the moans of others makes it harder. Anyways, I digress.

In between contractions while before being hooked up for monitoring in OB Triage

During contraction while waiting to be hooked up for monitoring in OB Triage

At this point the contractions were one right after another and strong, but they were in the middle of assessing me and getting me what I needed to be admitted, so I did what they asked me to do, between contractions. Walk to toilet, pause for contraction. Pee in cup, pause for contraction. Get gown on, pause for contraction. I tried to work quickly, as I felt like I did with Mckenna towards the end of labor, so I had a hunch we didn’t have a whole lot of time. Everyone else took their sweet time, assuming because I was the quietest patient that I was also the least progressed. They hooked me up to the monitors, and I waited for my midwife to come check me. At this point I was hitting the zone. Other mommas may know what I’m talking about. That point where you’re very much in tune with your body and relatively disengaged with everyone else. I would chat between contractions and did what was asked of me, but I was very much in my own headspace.

In the zone...mid-contraction

Between contractions texting updates to friends and family

The midwife came and checked me around 1AM. I was 100% effaced, 6cm dilated, and +1 station. I was thrilled that I was that far along and thrilled that I was actually in-tune with where was body was. At this point I was not thrilled with having to labor laying in bed on the monitors, but I still had to be hooked up, and they still needed to get blood from me and start an IV. The nurse came and drew some blood. I sat as still as possible, which wasn’t the easiest as at this point my contractions were legit, and the last thing I really wanted was some lady digging at my veins as I breathed through them. Also, I was Group B Step positive, which meant I needed two rounds of antibiotics, 4 hours apart. I knew all along I probably wouldn’t get two doses, but they came in to start my IV to at least get one dose in (which actually never happened...as you'll see). So another nurse came to start my IV. Her first attempt, she blew it. It was one of those moments that you kind of want to say, “ok, you’re done. Bye Bye,” as she dug around a bit in the middle of a really strong contraction. But I just smiled and nodded when she said she was going to try my other arm. As she was taking her sweet time, I suggested that everyone start to hurry a little bit as it felt like I was getting close. The contractions were one on top of the other, very intense, and my head was completely fuzzy, so I knew I was fully in transition and that it was going to move quick. Mid-second IV attempt, and just one contraction after my suggestion of hurrying, I felt my body bear down. I told the nurse that they needed to move me to a room quickly; that I was bearing down and could tell he was coming fast. Thankfully, they took me seriously. Everyone started to move. She quickly placed the IV, and they started wheeling me to their “drive by room” as they call it. It was adjacent to the triage room, and they always keep it set up, for such a time as this.

At this point it was 1:40AM or so. I continued to feel the urge to push, but tried to breathe through as best I could. Once in my delivery room, a nurse came to check me. She didn’t say anything. Another contraction was starting so I asked her if I was fully dilated, so I could push with the contraction and bearing down vs breathing through it. She looked at me with a slightly nervous, wide-eyed look and said, “OH YEAH, he’s like this far in,” holding her thumb and forefinger about a centimeter apart. Funny enough, she was the nurse there when I delivered Mckenna, and I’m pretty sure the look of panic was her thinking she may have to catch this baby…before the midwife could arrive. 

Thankfully, in that moment both my mom and the midwife arrived. I was thrilled my mom made it in time!

Everyone got into their positions, as I began to push with my contractions. Side note: I love labor and delivery, but I will say, I do feel a nervousness as my body bears down because the discomfort is pretty legit, I know it’ll get worst before it gets better, and I have zero control over it…and who likes being out of control? But at the same time, I see it as a challenge, and it’s part of why I love going unmedicated in deliveries. Anyways, back to the story.

So I start pushing with my contractions. The thing I love about my midwives is that they just let me do what comes naturally. So I did just that. Some contractions were legit and my body was bearing down with them. So with those contractions, I’d push. Every once in a while a contraction wouldn’t be as strong and my body wouldn’t be bearing down the same way, so I just would rest and breathe through it. In between contractions, we would chat, make jokes, etc. I also progressed so quickly, that I wasn’t actually totally admitted yet, so between contractions the nurse was trying to scan my bracelet and get me checked in.

Right after the midwife got there

Trying to scan my bracelet...they tried what felt like 34283942 times

Pushing...and yes, when I push, I like to hold the rails for dear life...I white-knuckle those rails!

I got SUPER hot mid-pushing...so I shed layers.

Having a laugh between contractions...though I guess I still look focused!

All smiles between contractions...we knew Bennett was minutes away from our arms at this point.

Time seems to stand still when you’re pushing. I had no concept how long it had been, but about 10-15 minutes from the time I got into the delivery room, I heard the best words you can hear, “one more big push…” and little man was set onto my chest. 

That first look


There's nothing better than this moment!

First shot of Bennett with Mommy and Daddy...Pure joy!

He was here. He was perfect. He was worth the wait. And he is forever ours!

Thursday, September 10, 2015

MIA for Baby Snuggles

Sorry we are MIA from the blog. We are all soaking in lots of baby snuggles!


Friday, September 4, 2015

40 Weeks Pregnant: BENNETT'S HERE!


How far along: BENNETT IS HERE!...Due September 3rd...BORN SEPTEMBER 1ST

Gender: Baby BOY!!

Total weight gain: Gained 20.5 lb...still up 8.5lbs.

Exercise: I'm off (officially) for the next 6 weeks. But I will ease back in with walks and possibly light jogs before the 6 week mark. Funny and fitting: my water broke in my HIIT class at the gym Monday evening! (more on the birth story in the next few days)

Maternity clothes: Packed up and put away!

Miss anything: I love seeing his sweet face and snuggling him...but I do miss having him inside of me and feeling his little movements and kicks.

Movement: He often all of a sudden kicks his little legs out just like I felt him always doing on my right side in my belly. I LOVE seeing what I felt for so many months.

Have you started to show: I've started to deflate! 

Stretch marks: I think I have some new ones on my hips and such, but it's tough to really tell with what was there.

Belly button in or out: Back in!

Wedding rings on or off: On, when I actually wear them! I take them off for exercise, showers, and sleeping...and between my mommy brain, I often forget to put them back on!

Sleep: I'm sleeping as much as I can. But right now just trying to soak in snuggles, even if they happen in the night...reminding myself they won't last forever.

Labor signs: Oh boy! As I've always said, I love labor and delivery. His labor and delivery were quick! I will share the whole story in the next few days!

Best moment of this week: Finally holding our little boy in my arms and seeing him in the arms of his Daddy and sister. It was a long, trying, faith-stretching road to add this little guy to our family. But every canceled cycle, failed cycle, and miscarriage were all part of our journey to him. God's plan for our family was this little boy...and if anything was different, he would not be in my arms right now. I am so thankful for God's plan playing out instead of my own. Bennett means "blessed"...and man is that fitting!