Peters Progress

Things don’t always go as planned.

As I drew nearer to my due date, I planned to continue to be healthy, to go into labor on my own, have a natural birth and a healthy baby.

I did not plan to go to the doctor at 36 weeks and discover that I had not gained weight and my fundal height had decreased from my previous visit at 34 weeks and I would need another ultrasound to check on the baby.

I did not plan to find out at 37 weeks that my baby did not appear to be growing as she should, and there was possibly a problem. My doctor offered to induce me right then, but if not I and the baby should be closely monitored twice a week, and I should not go past 39 weeks at the latest.

After prayer, deliberation, and discussion, we decided that I would be induced on Friday, August 24, when I was 38 weeks and one day. I still hoped and prayed that I would go into labor naturally beforehand. If not, I hoped that my labor could be started with a tiny dose of pitocin and I would continue labor on my own.

But things don’t always go as planned.

We arrived at the hospital Friday morning at 7:30, nervous and without a single contraction. After I got settled in and hooked up to several monitors, they started the pitocin on a low dose around 9:00, slowly increasing it every so often until I was at the highest level. A monitor showed that I was having contractions, but I did not feel them. Time seemed to crawl by as I anticipated what was to come and thought about how long I had to go.

Around 3:00 pm I was only 3 centimeters and I still was not feeling contractions beyond a mild tightness, so my doctor broke my water. My dilation continued to progress slowly, but the contractions got increasingly longer and stronger as I was put on an even higher dose of pitocin because my labor was not regular.

That evening I was only 4 centimeters and I felt like I had no break from the contractions. I was hooked up to so many monitors that I could not get up and move around. The pain was not totally unbearable, but it was exhausting and I knew I still had so far to go. Being my stubborn self, I still wanted to try to do it naturally, but mentally I was at my limit. I just wanted to turn it all off for a minute to catch my breath.

Once I decided to get the epidural I felt like I had given up on my “plan,” but I also felt a huge sense of relief. The whole process took a while, but eventually I was able to catch my breath and relax for a moment.

“I’ll be back in about an hour. Tell me if you feel any pressure or pain,” my nurse told me as she left the room after I was settled again. About an hour later I began feeling a lot of pressure. I looked at the time and thought the nurse should be returning soon. I told Mama I did not know what it meant, but I was feeling a lot of pressure, and she ran off to find the nurse.

She was surprised and told me I was 9-10 centimeters! “I’ll be back in about 15 minutes to check you again,” she told me. But she was not gone 5 minutes before I told Sam it was really strong and he went and got her again.

“Don’t sneeze or you’ll have a baby!” she told me and went to call my doctor, who had gone home to have dinner with his family. She had me practice pushing a couple of times while we were waiting for him, then had me stop. “Can you catch a baby?” Sam asked her. “Yes, but I don’t want to!” she replied.

My doctor arrived, got ready, and I began pushing at 9:25. Our sweet baby girl was born at 9:34.

She came out kicking and screaming and it was such a beautiful sound. Sam cut the cord and they placed her on my chest and I just stroked her and tried to take it all in as nurses wiped her down and gave her a hat and diaper. The next thing I knew everything was all cleaned up and everyone left for us to have our “Golden Hour” as a family of three

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I could not believe how beautiful and tiny she was, and how much she looked like Sam

And it no longer mattered that all my plans had been changed. She was healthy, I was healthy, and we were all so happy.

Pure happiness

Our sweet Mae Maureen was 5 pounds 6 ounces and 17.5 inches. She is a tiny little bundle of joy and our hearts are absolutely overflowing with love! We are so excited to begin this next chapter of our journey together as a family.

Happy Daddy!

Things do not always go as planned, but sometimes it is good for plans to go awry to show me my need to depend on God and His plans, which are often not the same as my own, but they are always better.

First Trimester

I am only a few weeks into my third trimester, but so far the first trimester was the hardest for me. Thankfully, I was not terribly sick and I never actually threw up. However, I did deal with morning sickness and fatigue for about six weeks. It could have been so much worse, but when I was in the middle of it I thought it was pretty bad.

The strangest part to me was that I could not stand even the thought of foods I had been eating regularly for so long. I used to eat oatmeal for breakfast every morning, but even the smell of it made me nauseous. I didn’t want to eat beans or cabbage, or anything else with a strong smell or taste.

My wonderful husband brought me juice and crackers in bed every morning when I woke up (and I began sleeping much later than the 5:00 mornings I was used to), and that would usually curb my nausea enough to get up and putter around a bit. Sam would also cook me eggs for breakfast every morning, and he also got used to cooking his own food pretty often. I still tried to cook him beans and chop his cabbage, but often I would do it in the biggest batches I could and put them in the refrigerator for him to fix for himself the rest of the way.

I lived on eggs, toast, potatoes, and yogurt, and I ended up losing a few pounds during the first trimester.

In addition to the sickness, I also struggled a lot with discouragement during the first several weeks. I went from running with Sam every single day (typically six miles a day) to sitting in the apartment all day. This was in January/February and it was very cold outside, often with snow, which discouraged me even more from getting out.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I was still terrified about becoming a mother and our future plans in Romania. Quite often I was sad and mopey, feeling sorry for myself that I was feeling sick and cooped up inside, and being overall quite selfish. I know it was discouraging and hard for Sam, but he was extremely kind and encouraging through it all. He sympathized with my sickness, cooked and cleaned for me, and constantly thanked me for carrying our child.

Looking back now, I wish I had been much more positive and thankful for my many blessings despite my small hardships. I wish I had been more attentive and loving to Sam instead of feeling sorry for myself.

Now I am immensely thankful for all the mornings I feel well and the afternoons I feel energized. I am so thankful for my wonderful, thoughtful husband who constantly sacrifices so much for me. And I pray I will take heed to the lessons I am learning looking back on that time and if I go through that again (and I pray that I will someday!), that I will have a better attitude and always be thankful and aware of my blessings.

Even when I physically feel bad or I am discouraged, being pregnant and anticipating our child has been and is such a blessing!

It was such a blessing when I transitioned to the second trimester and began progressively feeling better and better.

Second Trimester

One day I woke up and I did not feel quite so nauseous. Each day after that I began feeling better and better, and I even began cooking breakfast for Sam because I felt well enough to get out of bed and prepare his coffee and oatmeal.

I began running again, just a few exhausting miles at a time, but I was thrilled to be running again. I also began walking much more regularly, and I finally started going to the store by myself, which gave me a boost and a feeling of independence.

I was suddenly surprised at how hungry I was all the time, and I almost didn’t care what food it was! I went back to eating almost normally for me (although it still took me a while to want coffee again), and I was eating all the time. It took me a little while to catch up I guess, but I did start gaining weight.

I was so happy to be feeling better, but of course, I still found something to be discontent about. I just wanted to look pregnant! I could not wait to have a real bump, or to feel the baby move. People were still so surprised when I told them I was pregnant, and several people even told me they never would have guessed by looking at me. I could see my stomach growing and feel myself changing, but it still wasn’t quite noticeable to others. I would ask Sam all the time if he could see my bump, and I wondered when I might need maternity clothes.

When my family came to visit I was 23 weeks. I was wearing a large, flowy dress when they first saw me, and when I asked them if I looked pregnant they politely said “yes, kind of.” However, it did not take long for me to actually start showing after that. A few days later when I was wearing maternity pants Mama had brought me and a smaller maternity top Mama said, “Oh my, you look pregnant!”

I was about 18 weeks when I first felt the baby move, and it still excites me even now every time I feel a kick.

Pregnancy continues to be such a blessing and I am so thankful for this sweet, fleeting time.

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