"Mom, I'm mad at you!"

“Mom, I’m mad at you!”

I didn’t know these words could bring me so much comfort.

You see, I’m raising a boy.

A boy who instinctively wants to tackle. Who is drawn to motors, wheels, and super heroes in a way that feels unfamiliar to me.

And, I feel a responsibility that is also unfamiliar.

I feel responsible for creating an environment that makes it safe for him to explore his natural interests. And instincts. Because while his interests include a whole bunch of things that are classically masculine by our society’s standard - that is not him in his entirety. His instincts, they include being sad when a friend is not nice. And angry with big expressions when things don’t go his way. And kind in subtle and gentle ways. 

It feels important to embrace all these facets of his little soul at the impressionable age of three.

Because, our boys. I don't think they're okay.

While the roles of women have evolved {with a long journey still ahead}, the roles our boys play in our society have been slower to evolve. I believe my son can be his full self if we create an environment that is welcoming. And, somehow, this feels at the root of where we are as a country.

So, I’m trying hard to do my part.

To tell my son to share his feelings.

All of them.

The big ones that want to erupt as punches.

And the little ones that stop a friend in the hall to tell her she looks beautiful.

Even the ones that come out in the succinct phrase of; “Mom, I’m mad at you!”

I simply thank him for telling me.

Reassuring him that we all get mad.

Five Years

This photo showed up on my phone the other day as a memory

It reminded me that I took it five years ago.

Five years ago.

I remember placing a whole bunch of personal information in that envelope with a little bit of hope and mailed it down Interstate 380. I was scared. Nervous about needles and medication and hormones and failure.

Thankfully, we got pregnant before the needles and medication. The hormones and failures inevitably followed.

Today I have a four-year-old and an almost three-year-old. I don’t think the girl placing that envelope in the mailbox could even fathom that as a possibility. She seems like a completely different person. If I could go back in time and tell her something, I’d say…

Girl, you’re going to grow. You’re going to grow by 30 pounds with each pregnancy and immeasurable patience. You’re going to grow to the point of almost breaking. Your skin is going to stretch, and your brain is going to stretch, and your heart is going to stretch too. And just when you think coconut oil is the answer to all that stretching, you’ll learn it’s not. 

Take a nap. A long one. And, when you wake up, binge watch Netflix. Time is a finite resource and in five years you’re never going to have enough.

Breathe deeply. The challenges you’re facing today are preparing you for what’s to come. Go for a run. Do some yoga. Exercise those skills that make you stronger. You’re going to need that strength soon.

The only thing constant is change. The minute you think you have the baby thing figured out, the second one will come along. He will turn your world upside down. You won’t sleep. And that you job you love? Yeah, you’re going to quit it. You’re going to get burnt-out. You’re going to cry and scream and clean up so much throw-up in the middle of the night you’ll literally be able to do it in the pitch-black dark. You’re going to feel like you hate your husband in the darkest moments and appreciate him in a way you never have before. It will be confusing.

Ultimately, love will be what takes over in the next five years. Your love for those two little surprises will get you through the worst of times. That love will ask what’s wrong with the baby more times than you can count. And that love will eventually figure it out.

You’ll wake up (yes, you’ll sleep again) one day and realize it wasn’t hate that you felt. It was the strongest kind of love. Your husband will come to define the word partner in the next five years.

You’ll come out the other side loving yourself even more completely too. You’ll be driven to champion more women. Your judgments will slide away more easily. Your legs will get stronger. And those legs will carry you forward.

These five years, girl, they’re going to be a hell of a ride!

What I Wish I Would Have Known

I remember walking into my house with our tiny bundle. I remember my familiar home feeling different. There was an eerie calm. Our daughter was napping while my sister ordered pizza to welcome us all to our new normal. The calm that seemed so out of place? It was the calm they talk about that occurs right before a storm.

The storm was the next few months of our lives as we slowly adjusted to a family of four rather than the family of three we had known for the seventeen months prior. Our daughter eventually awoke from her nap. I sat down to nurse the new baby and she immediately tried to pull him off my lap while simultaneously throwing a fit herself. My husband took her to the grocery store. I sat alone with the baby I barely knew wondering what in the world I had done.

I wish I would have cut myself some slack at that exact moment. I wish I would have enjoyed nursing my son, shut my eyes and taken a nap!

I wish I wouldn't have had my daughter come to the hospital to meet her brother. If you’re one of those families who has sweet photos of your children meeting… skip this next paragraph.

My “sweet” photo from the hospital includes an obvious swipe from my daughter in the direction of her new brother (while ironically wearing a shirt that read, "Best Day Ever!"). The truth is, my son deserved that time with just his parents. Heck, I deserved that time and so did my husband! I wish we would have realized it was okay to wait a few days to introduce chaos into our new normal and allowed ourselves quiet bonding with our son.

I wish I could have suppressed the guilt I felt for sending my daughter to daycare while I was on maternity leave. I wish I could have seen that routine was good for her, and that it's easier to get a baby to sleep without a screaming toddler around.

I wish I would have realized sooner that what I thought was a serious breach in trust between my daughter and I was nothing of the sort. I wish I could have seen the future through the clouds of sleep deprivation and toddler tantrums.

I wish I had known then that the baby boy I barely knew would grow into my daughter’s self-proclaimed “best buddy"!

I wish I would have known that it would take a few months, but eventually she would stop plugging his nose and start kissing his cheeks.

Ultimately, I wish I had known that sometime in the future I would awake to giggles coming from that sweet baby boy’s room. Those giggles would belong to siblings, and friends, and would be a sign of the forever bond that was forming. 

A version of this post previously appeared on Today Parents.

Why I Write

This little world where I come to write is growing. And, I’m happy and proud. And nervous. It’s hard to sit down and put my feelings into words about complicated things like life, parenthood and baked goods. Heck, sometimes it’s even hard to find the time. To add to the complexity, the world around us feels noisy right now.

So, I’ve been a little quiet lately as the noise has gotten to me. I've taken this time to sort through my thoughts about why I write. Some of the reasons are simple… It’s an outlet. I like words. I think words are important. I also think it’s important to do hard things. But, really, I kept coming back to a Sandra Bullock movie. Because, of course!

Remember Crash? There was a line in there that always stuck with me;

"I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something."

I got a note from a reader recently. She’s expecting. Her and her husband had tried for years. They decided IVF was right for them. Then, about the time she was to start the whole process, she found out she was pregnant. She’s thrilled. Excited. And, nervous. She crashed into this little corner of the universe and learned she’s not alone. She found comfort in our sharing.

I cried.

I recently wrote about parenting after infertility. And, I heard from an old friend. She crashed into some words she needed to read;

"Unfortunately experience isn't something you can wrap-up with a bow. Instead I can gift them this... the dark moments will eventually give way to sunshine."

She thanked me for sharing, and I cried, again!

In short, I write to crash into all of you. To feel what we don’t stop and feel without intention. To be scared, happy, sad and nervous – together! We can do hard things – life, pregnancy, parenting, running, juggling – but it’s a little easier if we do them together.

Why I write... It's important to do hard things!

So, thanks for reading! Thanks for crashing into my little place in this big world. And thanks for sharing. Please come back. And bring coffee and scones!

The First Year

Grab a coffee and sit down. This one’s going to take a while. I’m going to get real honest. So, if you’re not into that type of thing, dump the coffee and keep on trucking.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

My son turns one in a few weeks. I have a history of writing letters to my children to document the moment. And, I will do that because this little surprise we call Weston is a gift. He is endless energy and sunshine in a perfect little baby body. But first I must write this… this last year, it’s been hard. Like, really hard. Harder than running a marathon or moving across the country or even trying to get pregnant in the first place. 

I’ve wondered to myself, Andy, my mom, co-workers, sisters, friends and the lady at the co-op… what am I doing wrong? Why does this seem so hard for me? Why does he keep getting sick? Why does he hate sleep? Why do boys jump off things and give me minor heart attacks twelve times a day?

I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a year. Almost 365 days of less-than-desired amounts of sleep. I think I slept three hours last night. I don’t know. I can’t remember.

I’ve thought about throwing my career away. I’m not sure how it would be financially possible for our family. But, at the worst of times, I’ve thought it was all too much. I love what I do and believe I’m a better parent because of it. But, admittedly, I’ve considered making a poster with the corporate jargon of “work / life balance” and throwing darts at it.

I’ve worked hard to perfect a scone recipe. Because, if I can’t get sleep and am at a loss for all else, at least we can all enjoy scones with our coffee!

I’ve said mean things to my husband at three o’clock in the morning. And, woke up the next morning grateful to draw upon all the years we spent together before these massive bags under our eyes. Those times help in the moments when we curse each other to keep ourselves from cursing the littles.

I barely remember my maternity leave. I remember a day when I quietly cuddled Weston on the couch and another one in our bed. I was off work for 13 weeks. I don’t do math well but I think 13 weeks amounts to much more than two days. Nora didn't adjust well and I felt insurmountable guilt. So, in essence the first three months of my son’s life are captured by an endless abyss of nursing while simultaneously holding a crying toddler, walking with an infant strapped to my chest and a toddler running away from me, coffee and scone taste-testing.

So, yes, it’s been hard. I remember reading about having children and people saying things like little baby, you’ve taught me more about myself than I ever knew. And, with only one child I didn’t know what they meant. But, this Weston guy is a professor! He has yelled lectured from a crib podium and taught me profound lessons about how uptight I am. He has closed the book on who I thought I was and opened a new one that helped me look directly in the mirror at who I am.

It’s been a long year. A tired year. A funny year. A year full of lessons and love and wine and hugs. And, it’s taken me a full year to say this… I wouldn’t trade it.

Today, it’s still hard. I might have less answers than when I started this quest called “two under two,” but the questions have been valuable. And, I think I have that scone recipe perfected. So, grab your coffee and stop on over at three in the morning. The professor will be in his crib partying and I’ll be researching the best concealer to cover under eye bags.

Cheers!

How Do I Quit You?

Come August, I will have been either pregnant or breastfeeding for three years straight. There was a brief sabbatical – about six weeks – between when I finished nursing Nora and got pregnant with Weston. But, for the better part of three years I have shared my body with my littles. Honestly, I’m tired, and ready to have my body back. Yet, I just can’t quit!

Breastfeeding feels so personal. What’s right for any given mom may range from never breastfeeding all the way to breastfeeding their child for years. I fall somewhere in the middle. Nora made the decision as to when to quit for us. She refused to nurse when she was around six months old. I pumped for another six weeks or so and called it good. Weston, has been a different story entirely.

For much of the first six months of his life, he outright refused formula (he projectile vomited it up!). As a mom who works full-time outside the home, it was challenging to keep up with his eating while building a reserve for the few work trips that were inevitable! During that time I would have given anything to just quit. Now that things have settled down a bit, I’m struggling!

I knew when I got pregnant with Weston that one of the things that can be deemed both a pro and con of having littles so close together is that each phase comes and goes in the blink of an eye. Within a three year stretch, my life growing babies will have started and ended. It's seeing this phase of my life conclude, not saying good-bye to that god-forsaken black bag, that’s got me struggling a bit.

 

Did you nurse? Did you struggle when it was time to quit?

 

A version of this post previously appeared on St. Luke's Birth Care Center.

After Infertility

I spoke with a friend the other day who admitted to me that she and her husband were in the beginning stages of the struggle to start their family. I had long suspected this was the case, but it was the first time we spoke at length about the topic. I struggled to find the words to help or reassure. Honestly, it was hard to hear her words without letting the memories of our not-so-distant past come flooding back.

It was just over three years ago I found out I had a unicornuate uterus byway of laparoscopic surgery for endometriosis. It was just under three years ago we started the IVF process. And, it was shortly thereafter we were surprised with a pregnancy prior to beginning our first round of IVF. But, the memories, they seem like a lifetime ago.

Life after infertility looks different than I thought it would. I thought I would be immersed in the gratitude toward these little surprises after so many months of heartache. But the truth is, the gratitude comes in waves. Because, motherhood – it’s hard.

I have come to regard our long journey to parenthood as a gift. We were granted the opportunity to ask ourselves what we wanted out of our lives. We didn't go from marriage to parenthood because it was what we were supposed to do. When it didn't come easy, we asked ourselves if we would be okay with our lives if they looked different than what we had always imagined. We explored our feelings toward adoption and fertility treatments. Ultimately, we put in place how far we were willing to go to complete our family.

Photos by Heart Shot Photo

Today, when we don't sleep or when we hear "no" for the one thousandth time, we know that we chose this life – this family! And although the gratitude comes in waves, the waves are big and can be momentarily debilitating.

I wish I could gift the after to my friends who are currently swimming through the storm that is infertility. But, unfortunately, experience isn't something you can wrap-up with a bow. Instead I can gift them this... the dark moments will eventually give way to sunshine. With or without a little one, your life will end up looking different than what you expected – the sunshine might be a different hue than you knew existed – but I promise your journey will help you. And, the journey will be what gives you the strength for the hardest of days to come.

A version of this post previously appeared on St. Luke's Birth Care Center.

 

Welcoming Weston Charles!

It’s probably a testament to the whole “second child syndrome” that it’s taken me a month to sit down and write this. If I’m being honest I think today might be the first day in a month that I haven’t had to squint to see through the lack of sleep in my eyes. And, it should be said that I’m existing this way because I sat (not laid) down on the couch with Weston and accidentally woke up two hours later. So, the introduction to welcoming Weston could be summarized as; having two kids is hard. I realize that there are millions of people who do it and even more who have more than two kids but I say this with the utmost sincerity… I have no idea how you do it!

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Back to one month ago …

I began noticing some contractions as I dropped Nora off at daycare. They weren’t yet painful so I headed to work for the morning, and quietly tallied the contractions  during meetings and conference calls. Around noon I decided that I should head home.

Once home I finished sending emails for work and even took a nap – knowing that if things continued to progress I would need the energy. Once I woke up, I finalized plans for Nora and went for another walk as Andy made his way home and my doula, Melissa, headed to our house. Everyone rallied at our house around 4:30 which is when I think active labor really picked up!

I was so thankful to labor at home for a few hours. It was nice to chat between contractions and to feel comfortable as things progressed. One of my favorite moments was when – between contractions – Andy asked Melissa and me what it all felt like. I’m not sure either of us were able to give him a great description – I think we likened a contraction to a Charlie Horse?

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

Around 6:00 Melissa began to talk to us about heading to the hospital. All through my pregnancy I was nervous about getting to the hospital “too early.” Because I wanted an un-medicated birth again, I feared I would think I was further along than I was and head to the hospital earlier than I would prefer. Melissa, being the expert she is, was tasked with helping me determine when to go to the hospital. And, despite my knowing that she is the expert (for a reason), I still felt she was crazy when she began urging us to get moving!

During the first part of the drive to the hospital, I talked with Andy about how I didn’t want to be frustrated if I hadn’t progressed very far, and by the end of the drive that whole conversation was null and void. As we pulled into St. Luke’s my contractions were coming one on top of each other and it was clear that things were picking up.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

We checked into triage around 7:00 pm and I was 6 cm dilated. At some point we moved to a labor and delivery room and the nurse asked if I wanted the doctor to break my water. I discussed the pros and cons of this with Melissa and ultimately heard “it will get more intense but will be over more quickly.” The doctor arrived pretty quickly, checked me (8 cm) and broke my water. He also made the comment that he’d “wait outside the room” as it was clear things were moving quickly.

Melissa was once again correct, the contractions did get more intense but it wasn’t long before I felt the urge to push. This was a huge a relief as I never got this urge with Nora (and subsequently pushed for almost three hours). The nurse was very relaxed as I began pushing and allowed me to push on my side. Multiple people in the room told me excitedly that I would be meeting my baby soon and I didn’t believe them. I was wrong. After about three contractions with pushing (and twenty minutes after they broke my water), Weston Charles Wendling was born!

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe the feeling I had when they placed him in my arms. Weston was born about an hour and a half after labor intensified and we arrived at the hospital which meant I got to experience the rush of joy without the exhaustion from a long labor or prolonged pushing. I was ecstatic to meet our son and was overjoyed by the love I saw in Andy’s eyes. We made it. We made it through yet another full-term pregnancy and an un-medicated birth to finally meet our son.

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Our last appointment with the doctor we have been working with for over three years – the one who saw us through fertility tests, surgery, a confusing diagnosis and now two high-risk pregnancies – was the Wednesday before Weston was born. Unlike when I was 38 weeks pregnant with Nora, I was able to have a sensible conversation with her (beyond “get this baby out!”). It felt significant to have a reflective conversation about how far we’ve come. She reminded us that the odds were stacked against us both in terms of getting pregnant and carrying two babies to term!

It’s crazy the way the lack of sleep, countless nonsensical conversations with a toddler and the overall chaos that exists with small kids clears the memory of the pain that infertility can cause. The gratitude comes back in quiet moments when you remember how you thought you’d never get here. 

November 6, 2013 was supposed to be the date when we would have our implantation for a round of IVF. Almost exactly two years later we have two healthy kids under the age of two. We blinked and created a family – against all the odds.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

To my girl...

Dear Nora James,

Tears overwhelm me as I write this. You see, you’re going to get a baby brother soon. Within weeks, for sure, and days, if your mama is lucky! This means I'm very emotional - and that your whole world is going to change. I swear it will change for the better in the long run, but in the short-term, it’s going to be confusing. You’re going to wonder why I can’t pick you up every time you mutter the syllables “up-pees.” You’re not going to understand why I’m not as quick to jump out of bed and wish you a good morning or why your dad is doing the “night, night” routine with you more often.

Believe me when I tell you that I’ve gulped in every look at your cute, chubby face the last few weeks. I have given you more kisses on those squishy cheeks than you or I could possible count. I have savored all the moments that have been just the three of us. From you spilling milk all over the table to you pulling off a somersault with your dad in the middle of the living room floor. I’ve done this because I know as soon as your brother gets here, you’re no longer going to look like the baby I remember. You’re going to look like a big girl, and we’ll then be treasuring our party of four.

And, like most things, I’ll be feeling all of your emotions with you. I’ll be excited, don’t get me wrong, but I’ll be confused too. We’ll find our way – much as we’ve done for the past 17 months.

What I know for sure is; above the sweater I received one year from American Eagle (that I desperately wanted), and far above those True Religion jeans I got on a separate year, the greatest gift my parents ever gave me is my siblings. And, I’m excited to give you a comrade to play with, commiserate with, and, ultimately, probably complain about me with!

From confusion, little lady, we’ll get to a new normal. And, I promise, we’ll do it together!

Love you!

Mom

A Letter to the Little Man

Dear Baby Boy,

You’re so close to officially joining our family and we are anxiously awaiting your arrival. Your dad and I are curious about what you will look like, what your personality will be and if your sister will ever let you wear clothes (as she refuses to let her “baby brother doll” do). And, you, I’m sure have your own plans… to keep up the kicking and punching outside of the womb, to sleep soundly through the night at 1 week old (right?) and, ultimately, make our family complete.

But, let me tell you what a ride we’ve already been on.

You chose to make your presence known when we barely had this whole parenting thing down, and during the most challenging phase of my career, so far. And, buddy, I was scared! But you knew what you were doing all along. The thing I’ve learned about parenting is that you little people teach us bigger people far more than we could ever teach you.

I believe you came to us to make our family complete, yes, but also to reinforce the importance of balance. You’ve put in long hours with me – and kicked the computer off my belly multiple times! You’ve been a constant reminder that while work and ambition is admirable, there is plenty more to life than the success we may find at the office. You have forced me to pause. You have required true prioritization of my time and energy. And, you’ve helped me laugh and shrug when things aren’t in accordance to my plans. 

So, little buddy, thank you. Thanks for showing up when I didn’t know I needed you. Thanks for being ours! I promise that the chaos we will welcome you into, is a good chaos. And, I swear we will try our very best to teach your sister what “gentle” means.

You and me, buddy!

Love,

Your flawed mama

Dear Nora

It’s almost your first birthday and that means this first-time, pregnant-again mama is getting emotional. It’s hard to believe that you’ve been in our family for a year.  And, yet, you have fit in with us so seamlessly that it’s easy to know you’ve always been in our hearts.  There are a few things I want you to know now that I’m an expert mom {ha!}. I’m writing them down as a reminder to both you and me when our future selves are doubting.

• Being a mom is hard, but not really as hard as some people will want you to believe. If you choose to become a mom one day, know that people will make parenting sound scary and intimidating. And, it is, but you have it in you to be the person you need to be no matter the challenge you are facing – parenting or other.
• Sorry for… accidentally biting your finger when we were playing, pinching you when putting your pajamas on, not realizing you had thrown up in your crib soon enough, forgetting to change your diaper on a long car ride, dropping food on your head during the days that you stayed content in the Baby K’Tan, your dad pinching your finger in the rock and play (we’re lucky your fingers are all still intact), and everything I’ll do in the future that isn’t quite right. You deserve better and I’m getting better all the time.
• Your name means “light.” And, I described you as full of light long before I knew that. Don’t let anyone dull that light.
• I wet down your cowlick every morning. I think the spirited curl that sprouts on top of your head because of it might calm down once your hair gets longer. Truthfully, I hope it doesn’t, because I love it.  Regardless, I hope you’re always confident in the beauty you were born with. From the curl on top of your head to your curious spirit to the freckle on your knee to the seriousness in which you make your point to those killer eyes, you’re beautiful.
• You have a really good dad. You know that today. Your light is brightest when he’s around. Don’t forget it in 11 years or in 24 years. Keep talking to him. Keep reading with him. Keep building that relationship.
• You are skeptical and slow to trust others. I get it. So am I! But, girl, you have a lot of great people who love you, so go ahead, and let them in!
•  Keep sharing things you love {Gerald} with others.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

But, most of all, always know that we love you. We cut your bananas up into tiny little pieces for fear you might inhale them too quickly. I have more awkward “pumping” stories than I have time to tell. You didn’t get a blanket in your crib for a ridiculously long time. Your dad still gets scared when you walk on tile. Remember these things when you’re frustrated with us. They may be strange ways to show it, but we love you more than you know right now.

Love, Mom

Nora James Wendling's Birthday

I used to read birth stories and always found them interesting from an ok, now I better understand what to expect standpoint.  I like to hear how long it lasted for people and how bad they truly thought it was, but I have to admit, I’d skip over the parts about how amazing an experience it is because I just didn’t understand. 

Here is the story of Nora’s birth.  It includes the parts about how long it lasted and what the worst parts were, but now I understand.  I can’t help but cry every time I think about our experience of welcoming her – it truly was amazing.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

After being told that our lil peanut would more than likely arrive around 35-36 weeks gestation, it was safe to say that I felt well over-due as I hit the 38 week mark.  We were so happy that our girl was healthy and comfy in the womb, but mama was getting more uncomfortable by the day. 

Looking back, there were small signs that should have told me that Andy and I were both getting ready for our little to join our family.  As he came to bed the night before she was born he put his hands on my belly as he fell asleep.  I remember pausing to think; “this may be the last time for this!” 

1:00 am

I began feeling some cramping at about 1:00 am that woke me up.  Although it was nothing terribly painful – I was able to sleep through most of it – I decided to relocate to the guest bedroom just in case this was the real thing.  I wanted Andy to have as much rest as he could because I knew I would need him later.  

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

5:45 am

I was able to sleep through early labor for the most part.  I crawled back into our bed to update Andy at around 5:45 am.  At this point contractions had gotten closer together, but I still questioned whether it was the “real thing!”  Andy had a dentist appointment that morning so he decided to go to that and call me when it was over to see how things were progressing.  About the time he called to see if he should head into work or not, the contractions were coming closer together (about seven minutes) and getting increasingly uncomfortable.  I still hesitated to ask him to come home (I had a serious fear of being the false alarm girl and was in labor denial), but I went ahead and told him that I thought he should come home to walk with me and see if things continued.

8:30 am

As soon as Andy got home we headed out for a walk.  At this point the contractions were hard to walk through so our walk was relatively short (just around the block).  As we inched closer to our house – about two houses away and extremely close to a garage sale that was going on that morning – Andy’s back started to tighten up.  Andy indicated that he had sympathy symptoms for much of my pregnancy – eating, cravings, sleeping, etc. – so it shouldn’t have surprised me when he started talking about how he thought he was having sympathy contractions.  We both stopped walking as we laughed, and to keep things interesting, my water broke right there – in front of the garage sale.  Luckily, it started raining almost simultaneously so I don’t think anyone noticed the extremely pregnant lady with wet pants as it was camouflaged by rain.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

I had hoped for a natural birth long before I became pregnant.  Once we found out that our little was head-down, Andy and I prepared to welcome the peanut into the world with as few medical interventions as possible.  So, once my water broke, I had hoped to labor at home for at least a little while longer.  We already notified our doula about the progress, and Andy called the hospital to ensure we didn’t need to come in immediately.  With contractions now coming pretty quickly (five minutes or less apart) and intensely, Andy began loading up our car for the hospital as I mainly labored in our bed for as long as I could.

10:30 am

As the contractions grew in intensity, we headed to the hospital.  We called Melissa – our doula – and had her meet us there rather than our house as it was pretty clear that things were happening relatively quickly.  Once at the hospital, we were checked-in to a triage room so they could assess my labor.  The first time a nurse checked me – in triage – I was already almost five centimeters dilated (this was probably around 11:00 – 11:30).  So, they quickly got us to a labor and delivery room and it wasn’t long before contractions began to come one on top of another.  

2:00 pm

I had envisioned my birth playlist echoing in the background while Andy massaged my back as I labored through, but as things progressed quickly, I mainly just stayed focused on each contraction as Andy stayed close by.  We were so blessed to have an amazing nurse – Cindy – who was supportive of my birth plan, and of course our doula – Melissa – in the wing to help as things got more intense.  Luckily, labor stayed pretty calm and there was never a time that I wanted to give up and ask for pain medicine.  And, I was fully dilated and ready to push by 2:00! 

As they prepared me to begin pushing, I remember looking up at Andy in anticipation.  I was certain we would be meeting our daughter shortly.  Pushing was a journey all its own and extremely tough.  We’re not sure if she changed positions a few times as she worked her way out but all signs indicate that she did.  I am so thankful for the amazing team at St. Luke’s.  Because we were consistently making progress during the two hours and forty-five minutes that I pushed, no one ever mentioned additional interventions, and Nurse Cindy did an amazing job at keeping me motivated.

But, no one did a better job than my husband.  He never left my side and seemed to constantly say the things I needed to hear.  I searched his eyes multiple times for motivation and found it each time.  I also kept some of my favorite words in my head as I inched closer to meeting our daughter.  I find running analogies everywhere, so as I reached the end of my rope I kept thinking about the last .2 miles in the marathon we ran a few years ago.  Because as Kristin Armstrong says…

".2 is the metaphorical distance between you and any finish line in your life, anything you have ever dreamed of doing or becoming.  It's what's separating you from your truest, most authentic self and your most actualized life.  It's what's worth thinking about, strategizing about, planning for, training for, and going for. 

.2 is simultaneously the end and the beginning.  Because when we cross one finish line, we arrive at the next start line, carrying with us everything we learned from prior distance."

Our race was long and at times extremely hilly.  But, I knew, while pushing, that this was our finish line and our start line.  And, Andy and I were going to cross this one together.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

4:46 pm

Our little peanut was born at 4:46 pm on April 24, 2014.  She weighed in at 7 lbs, 12 oz and was 21 ½ inches long.  In her pediatrician’s words (not mine, of course), she is perfect!  I was able to push her out with no medical interventions – they never even placed an IV port in me!  And, Andy and I were able to experience the rush of joy as they placed her in my arms, together.  Thirty-one months after we started trying for our family, Nora James Wendling was welcomed into a room full of love.

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

Lucky

I cried as we left the hospital.  Not because I was scared or anxious but because I knew that we were leaving behind an experience that we were so lucky to have.  Although Nora’s birth was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, I left the hospital feeling like we were leaving a great vacation behind.  We were so lucky to deliver a full-term, healthy baby and to be going home with her.  We were lucky my labor progressed the way it did, and that we were able to have the birth we had hoped for.  But, more than anything, we are lucky to have her.  

Photo by Heart Shot Photo

Showering and more!

I remember each of my wedding showers like they were yesterday.  I remember the wine, the fun, the people, the wine (did I say that already?  Ok, I miss wine!) and the celebrating.  But, I also remember feeling overwhelmed – in an amazing way.  I remember thinking how lucky we were to have so many people around who wanted to celebrate this milestone alongside us.  And, even more overwhelmed by the incredible generosity of those individuals.

Fast forward four years and immeasurable amounts of hormones later, and that overwhelmed feeling is immense after two amazing, beautiful baby showers!  Baby Girl W and I have spent much of the past few weeks sharing our anticipation with our incredible friends and family.  My first shower was held in Cedar Rapids and hosted by two of my very closest friends – Shay and Betsy.  No detail was left unattended by these two.  Seriously, it was beautiful!

And, my second shower was held in St. Louis and hosted by my aunt – Teresa.  Our lil lady is blessed to be joining a close-knit group of women that we call my extended family.  I had to laugh as I noticed her barely moving on Friday evening while all of us ladies hung out laughing and chatting until way past my bedtime.  I hit the bed that night exhausted, and what do you know, the little lady started kicking, punching and having her own little party.  I swear she was saying “thanks, Mom, finally some peace and quiet!”  She’ll adjust to the Buechter women in due time!

It’s amazing the emotional effect that each of my showers had on me.  Anyone who has seen me these past 8 months can probably attest to what a nervous wreck I’ve been.  A high-risk pregnancy is no joke.  But, something about my showers calmed me down.  Knowing that she will be welcomed with so much love, and into a space that was prepared with her in mind has truly reassured me and helped me relax.

A little glimpse in her room!

 Finally, although I hesitate to count our chickens before they hatch (in 6 weeks or less!), I have to say how lucky we are.  Not just because we have so many amazing family and friends who have been cheering our little peanut on and offering prayers for her not-too-soon and safe arrival, but because we have her.  

I let myself look into the statistics and read medical reports after we made it to a safer part of this pregnancy, and I can’t help but shed tears every time I think about them.  After reading way too much information, (again, anyone who has interacted with me these last few months knows the gobs of information I have read) I understand the odds of me sitting here healthy at over 33 weeks pregnant were against us.  But, I’m sitting here.  Because this lil peanut is determined and driven to come out in due time, and meet all of the magnificent people who have been anxiously awaiting her arrival - including two pretty proud parents!

Cheers!

Pregnant with a Unicornuate Uterus

After the initial shock of an actual positive pregnancy test wore off slightly.  I was somehow able to get some sleep before waking up the next morning as a totally different person – a crazed pregnant lady.  I remember having no idea what I could or couldn’t do or should or shouldn’t do.  Can I make a turkey sandwich for lunch?  Oh shit, I’ve already slammed a cup of coffee – is that allowed? 

I called the doctor’s office as soon as they opened at 9 am.  I knew that they would want to do early blood tests as our IVF doctor had warned us of the higher chances of an ectopic pregnancy with a unicornuate uterus (I’ve linked both of those terms so you get way better definitions than I can give!).  What I didn’t know is that they would test my blood every few days until I was 6 weeks pregnant at which time they would do an ultrasound to ultimately rule out our first of so many worries.

We were so lucky to make it through those first few weeks with no issues.  My HCG levels were rising normally and our 6-week ultrasound showed a perfectly healthy lil peanut - although, I only felt “half-pregnant” as I continually waited for the other shoe to drop!  Once we were able to meet with our doctor – the same doctor that we worked with for infertility – we learned that starting around 16-18 weeks we would have ultrasounds every two weeks to monitor my cervix.  This would allow them to intervene quickly should signs of pre-term labor begin to show.

The fun part of all of this was that we were able to check-in on our lil lady quite regularly.  At 18 weeks, we found out that she was in fact a lil lady and we began to get comfortable with all of these doctor appointments.  We even discussed whether Andy needed to go to all of them.  Luckily, we decided that it was best that he attend alongside me so he was present at our 20 week ultrasound.  At this ultrasound our doctor noted what appeared to be the start of “funneling” in my cervix. 

Essentially this meant that my cervix was opening at the top.  And, while my cervix appeared to still be “long,” it was apparent that this was going to need to be monitored closely.  If my cervix shortened to under 2.5 cm before I was 24 weeks pregnant, we would discuss additional medical interventions – a cerclage, etc.  Our doctor did not put me on bed rest after the 20 week appointment but she did limit my activity – mainly no working out and no intercourse!

The next two weeks were hell – and Christmas!  I promise that I’ll always remember the holiday season of 2013 primarily thanks to my extreme lack of any sort of excitement toward it.  All I wanted to do was make it to December 26 so that I could better understand what was going on with my body and our lil peanut.  So, on December 26 we drove from Hudson to Cedar Rapids for our doctor appointment not quite knowing if we’d be back afterward.  I truly assumed that I would be on bed rest after this appointment and we’d be scheduling the cerclage procedure.  And, while my concerns could be viewed as extreme pessimism by some (ahem, my husband), I truly felt like I was being realistic with the minimal information that we had.

I should note that I had Googled funneling once since our 20 week appointment.  I quickly read definitions and causes before closing down my browser.  Beyond that, I refused to look into any worst-case scenarios.  I just didn’t think they’d help anyone.

At our 22 week doctor appointment, we were shocked to learn that the funneling was GONE!  I honestly had no idea that this was even a possible outcome.  I assumed that either my cervix would either slowly shorten (best case) or quickly shorten (worst case) but I had no idea that the issue going away completely would be an option.  Our doctor also seemed a bit surprised, but as happy as we were!  We left with instructions to keep doing what we were doing – no intercourse, no working out and limited amounts of activity!  And, we’d return in another two weeks to see how things were proceeding.

Luckily, we made it through the next month without the funneling returning.  It was about this time that I allowed myself to read more into what the whole “funneling” situation was all about.  It was scary to read about all the things that could have gone wrong but so reassuring to know that this was no longer a worry of ours.  Of course, because I am a worrier, I do tend to get anxious thinking about future pregnancies but I’m so thankful that our daughter is so strong and resilient.  I still can’t believe all the odds that she overcame at only 26 weeks gestation.

Our 26 week ultrasound was also quite humorous.  Our lil peanut was extremely squished to say the least.  She was literally folded in half with her head up toward my ribs and her arms and legs covering her face.  She was in breech position and my doctor and I were certain that she would not find the room to turn around before time ran out.  Honestly, I was fine with this.  Although I had hoped to have a natural birth, I always knew there was a high likelihood of c-section and I figured it was the least of our concerns while carrying a child in half a uterus!

At 26 weeks, we had the longest break in doctor appointments that we had the entire pregnancy.  I was almost 29 weeks pregnant before I returned to the doctor for my glucose test.  At that time, we began going to the doctor every 2 weeks until we hit the 35 week mark when we would start to go weekly (like a regular pregnant lady!).  These appointments were thankfully uneventful except when at 33 weeks we learned that – again, against many odds – our lil lady was in fact head-down!

So, that’s where we currently stand.  34+ weeks pregnant with a healthy little girl.  We are so lucky and look forward to updating this page once she decides to join us in 6 weeks – or less?

** Update, our little lady was born healthy and happy at 38 weeks.  You can read more about her birth story here.