Sisters

 Ava likes to hold Brielle's hand when I change her diaper.  It's funny.  The second she knows I'm changing a diaper she comes running.  Guess who got Brielle's first non-gassy smile?  That's right.  Ava.  Brielle will sometimes smile at the sound of Ava's voice when she comes into the same room.  It melts my heart. 

My sister, Darcie sent a package down that contained this cute outfit for Brielle and hair clips she had made for both girls.  I realized Ava had a similar outfit and decided to have a photo shoot.  As it turned out Brielle the diva was not happy with the timing as it coincided with her second lunch.  What an ego that girl has, acts as if everything should revolve around her schedule.  Babies.

Brielle is still upset in this photo but you can't tell so much.  Ava looks like she's enjoying holding a screaming baby doesn't she?  Almost maniacal looking if you ask me.  She does giggle when Brielle cries in the car when she is ready to eat and we are not quite home yet.  Ava says she sounds like a gorilla.  I have no idea what a gorilla sounds like, but apparently Ava does and it's funny.  At first it upset me that I was raising a sociopath.  Who laughs at someone crying?  Oh well, she's going through some tough times lately having all her attention from us split in half.  I once heard that a for an older sibling having a new baby in the house is like if your spouse told you he had a new girlfriend and wanted to move her in with you. 

I've gotta say this: I admire women that have more than two children.  How they do it and keep themselves semi-sane is a mystery to me.  So kudos to all who fit that description.  Ava the other day in the car though did say this to me, "Mom I don't want any more brothers or sisters.  I don't want to be like the Brady Bunch!"  I tend to agree in the middle of the night when I feel like I've been run over by a truck.  But then I see Brielle's face light up with a big toothless grin when she looks at me or feel her soft chubby cheek against my chest as I hold her and like some fool in love I never want it to end. 

Last night after I had fed Brielle I got up to get a drink.  I came back and just looked at Brielle as she lay in the dim light of the moon shining through the window.  The plump curves of her face relaxed in sleep and she looked thoroughly satisfied as her soft breath came in and out.  Her position in sleep mirrored her Dad's sleeping a foot away from her in our bed.  I couldn't help but feel as satisfied as Brielle looked.  I know it's sappy, but sappy is my default mode so deal with it. 

Ava at Five

Coming to the Surface

I sink.  The weight of the water pushes me down, down, down to the bottom of the pool.  I struggle and my limbs barely respond to my brain's panicked urging.  Swim.  It seems so easy.  But nothing happens and I lay on the bottom of the pool the world above hazy and distant.  I can see my family walking around up there.  "Mom?" I hear my daughter ask.  I try to respond, but it seems terribly hard.  Her face blurs.  I'm numb.  Nothing really matters down here in the depths.

This is how I described the way depression makes me feel to my therapist several months ago.  It took some time for me to finally admit that I had been struggling with depression for quite a while.  It's always seemed an indulgent disease to me, selfish even.  But having lived through it and denying it's existence in my reality I know firsthand that you don't choose to be depressed.  There were days I thought to myself,  I had a happy childhood, a relatively uneventful adolescence, I have a husband and a child...why do I feel this way?  The feelings of sadness and worthlessness engulfed me totally. 

Two summers ago when everything started to unravel for me, where I started to acknowledge the failings in my life I was attending a baby shower with a close friend.  I hadn't seen my friend, the mother-to-be very much since high school.  But there was a time that I had spent many hours at her home getting to know her family.  As we walked through the doors her mother, who I had always admired and liked greeted me.  She faced me and said, "It's been so long, let me look at you."  As an insecure 16 year old she had made me feel special and beautiful when all I saw was a girl with non-trendy curly hair and a big nose.  She had once told me I reminded her of a Greek Goddess.  You can imagine a compliment like that leaves quite an impression.  As her piercing blue eyes probed my face I felt terrified and panicked that she would see through me.  See in the depth of my eyes all the sorrow and turmoil that had been bubbling up in me for years.  I turned my face from her and went to greet her daughter. 

I don't know what she saw, but like my unhappiness in my marriage I told myself I was hiding my sadness well.  I'm sure that wasn't true at all, just like my pretending everything was fine with my marriage didn't fool anyone close to me either.  For me admitting that something was wrong with me was a shameful sign of weakness.  Other people get depressed, but I'm fine.  I can deal with it.  It's laughable that I thought I was dealing with it.  There were days at my worst where getting off the couch in the morning and taking a shower seemed like a monumental task.  I don't know how to explain it to someone who has never experienced it besides everything seems inflated.  Every problem, every task at hand, is huge.  And the constant stream of negative thoughts poisons any confidence you have in your ability to achieve things.  At least this is how depression manifested itself in my life.  I guess I can't speak for everyone who has ever experienced depression.

I wrote a poem when my daughter was two entitled Of Dishes and Laundry where I express my desire to be a rain drop that can be evaporated up into the sky, and I wish that I would never feel anything ever again except to fall from the sky and be taken back up over and over again.  Reading it now I feel so sad for the woman I was, for the experience I was grappling with, for how isolating it all was.  I learned as a child in a family of five children that the best I could do was to pipe down and not complain.  To blend into the background because I wasn't that important.  My sister was important.  My brother was important.  But I wasn't.  I didn't need to cause problems.  I didn't need to be a burden to anyone.  In fact my role was to lighten the mood.  To smooth problems between others.  I was the happy one, the one that dealt with things and no one needed to know if there were issues in my life.  If someone hurt me I just pretended as if I was okay.

Reflection on that attitude has taught me that I don't need to pass that legacy on to my daughters.  Speak up.  If something is not right you say it.  Voicing your feelings...good and bad is very validating.  I never want to make my children feel as if they need to hide what is going on in their lives to make my life easier.  It has not been healthy for my life to be this way.  It kept me in denial for years about what was actually going on around me.  It served to simply allow those who would hurt me to do so with my permission.

When I started going to counseling with my husband it surprised me that as I spoke candidly about my experience that a pattern emerged.  What I had supposed to be the cause of all my unhappiness...my marriage, really wasn't.  It was part of it, but in the grand scheme of things it was only as they say the tip of the iceberg.  The anxiety that had pervaded my life for years it turned out is not experienced by most people as I assumed.  Other people don't obsess about their daughter being kidnapped night after night, or a fire ravaging their home, or you name it...any other calamity that can happen in a person's life.  Other people don't feel their chest tighten in the middle of the night as scenes of these possible scenarios play out.  At least mentally healthy people.

Counseling has helped me enormously.  I never envisioned myself needing therapy.  Once again, I thought it was for weaker people than myself.  Because I'm super strong and "normal".  When I left my husband and my marriage I was running from an unhappiness I had not yet fully examined.  I'm glad now that my husband was so persistent about us going to counseling.  I had zero faith it would help our situation.  Now months later I feel like I'm closer to knowing myself.  To being honest with myself and those around me.  To know that getting help for something as debilitating as depression and anxiety is not a sign of weakness.

I'm not advocating that taking a pill is a cure all for the symptoms of depression.  With my doctor we decided on a course of treatment and an anti-depressant is part of that treatment.  I feared being mired in those same feelings after the birth of my second child, and so far I'm happy that things are different.  Of course being a woman, I feel guilt that with Brielle I am able to bond and manage my mood better with her and feel as if Ava was robbed of the full interaction of a loving healthy mother.  I can't change the past.  All I can do is be truthful about my experience in the hopes that honesty can help others who may be struggling know that they are not alone.

Baby Love

Brielle's first sponge bath.  She didn't complain at all.  Well except when I took the advice of my husband and ripped off her band-aid on her thigh fast.  She screamed then.  I felt horrible. 

I don't have many pictures of me with Ava as a baby because I was so insecure about what I looked like.  I don't want to be one of those people who has no pictures with their loved ones because they never wanted their picture taken.  You live and learn, right?

Ava is a good big sister.  She's had a few moments of crying and saying I don't love her anymore, or that I'm spending too much time with the baby, but overall she seems to bear no malice towards her sister.  If I don't immediately pick up Brielle when she starts to fuss Ava comes running and says, "Mom, take care of that baby!" She doesn't like to hear her cry and the few times she has Ava will say, "Be patient.  Mom's coming."  Ava wishes Brielle would grow up faster so they could have fun.  Five years was the age gap between me and my little sister and it didn't stop us from having a close relationship, but I think it will depend on their individual personalities and if Ava wants to take an interest in her little sister. 

Brielle is so alert when she's awake and she seems to really study things.  I love looking into her eyes and talking to her.  She's a wonderful baby.  She hardly cries except when her grunts of annoyance have failed to get her picked up by someone.  There have been a couple of times in the car where she has woken up and is hungry and will cry for a few minutes and then suddenly she is quiet.  I asked Ava both times if she had fallen asleep and she hadn't.  She was just awake and not crying.  I think she must take after her Daddy who never complains, even when it is warranted. 

Birth Story

So this is mostly for me to document Brielle's birth.  We had decided about a month and a half ago that I should be induced a week early.  My concern was for how big this baby was going to be.  Ava was two weeks early and weighed 7'9.  I worried that if nature took it's course and I went full term or over that the baby would be a ten pounder.  Plus I didn't want to be in the hospital for Christmas. 

The night before I had taken Ava on a "date" to see Despicable Me again at the dollar theater and to eat at Panda Express.  I was feeling emotional about this being our last day together just the two of us before her sister arrived.  We had fun and I managed not to cry when I told her how much she meant to me and would always be my baby.  The next day I was feeling anxious the whole day but just kept busy to keep my mind off of things.  My mom showed up at my house on Monday the 20th at about 3 pm.  I had been making cookies for her and my husband to snack on while I was in the hospital.  That morning I had been grocery shopping with Ava.  My mom and I went shopping and I showed her where to go to get groceries or if she wanted to take Ava to McDonald's playland.  I had a couple of Christmas presents to get before I went to the hospital that night as well. 

My Mom made french bread pizza.  My last meal for who knew how long.  My sister Darcie had called that afternoon and we talked about how long labor might last.  She said that her second was exactly half the amount of time as her first so I should only be 15 hours this time!  I called the hospital an hour before I was scheduled to make sure they still had room for me.  They said they did.  So at quarter to 8 we left the house to go to the hospital. 

The nurse I had that night was super nice.  I really liked her.  She said I was her only patient that night.  They checked me and I was still only dilated to a one and 30% effaced.  So instead of starting me on pitocin they used cytotech.  No idea if I spelled that right.  They would check me in four hours and decide what to do from there.  I watched tv while Brig dozed in the chair.  He had just finished working his seven day stretch.  At about 11 pm he went home to sleep.  I tried to sleep but had to keep getting up every hour to use the bathroom.  At 1 am they checked me and I was still a one but 50% effaced. 

I couldn't sleep but I just laid there with my eyes closed.  I could hear the nurses laughing like loons in the hall.  It made me smile.  If I miss working outside of the home it's for the socializing aspect alone, oh and being compensated with a paycheck is nice, too.  At 2 am I started having some uncomfortable contractions.  I tried to relax into them and tell myself that every contraction was getting me closer to meeting my little girl.  At 5 PM they checked me again.  I was at a 3, but my cervix was softer.  My doctor came in a little while later and told them to start me on Pitocin. 

All night the nurse and the residents couldn't get over how active my baby was.  They kept calling her a wild woman.  They told me I could get an epidural whenever I wanted.  I kept contracting and just kept trying to go with it.  At 9 am my doctor came and broke my water.  At about 10 am I decided I'd better get the epidural because it was really starting to get intense.  I don't know how women do it without an epidural.  I had briefly considered going natural a while back in my pregnancy.  But the reality is I know there is a solution to the pain and I just couldn't see myself not taking that option.  I texted Brig and asked if he was on his way.  He said he was getting ready.  The new nurse, who I also liked, told me that the epidural was about 45 minutes away as they were in surgery until then. 

At 11 am a cute resident came in and informed me he was there to give me my epidural.  He had nice eyebrows.  I know that sounds crazy, but I notice eyebrows.  Plus he had on a surgical mask and so his eyes really stood out.  I was slightly flustered because Brig still wasn't there and I had wanted him to be there for the epidural.  But I couldn't keep waiting.  The resident talked to me about the risks associated with an epidural and as he was finishing Brig showed up.  I was relieved.  I was nervous.  With Ava I can't remember feeling nervous about the epidural, which means I must have been in more pain than this time around because then I was like just do what you have to do to get this pain to stop. 

The epidural helped a lot and I tried to not keep pressing the button to give myself more if I didn't need it.  I wanted my legs to stay only partially dead.  The resident checked me and told me I was a four.  Nice.  Slow and steady.  They kept increasing my pitocin.  Brig left to get some lunch with Ava and my mom.  At 12:30 I started to feel kind of nauseous and dizzy.  I was chatting with a very cute nurse named Devon as she set up the delivery table with all the instruments lined up.  I told her I was feeling really dizzy and sick.  She went to get my nurse.  They gave me some anti-nausea medication and called the resident to come and check me.  This was around 2:00.  I was dilated to a five.  The baby's head was still high though.  Over the course of the next hour I felt sicker and sicker and the baby's heart rate started to go down with each contraction.  Brig was still at lunch and I was wishing he was there with me. 

The baby's heartrate got down into the 80's and all of a sudden there were like 15 people in the room with me.  The got me to turn on my side and my doctor came and told them to cut off my pitocin, essentially stopping my hard labor.  I was so scared for the baby.  They thought there must be a cord problem where it was being squished each time I had a hard contraction.  They put me on oxygen.  She started doing a bit better with me on my side and the contractions not so close together.  Brig got back from lunch and I was glad he was there again.  At 4:30 when they had checked me again and I was dilated to a 6 but still no change on baby's head position the resident and my nurse told me that if I hadn't changed in another hour or so they may have to take the baby c-section.  At this news I got all teary eyed and couldn't stop crying.  I was so scared and didn't want a c-section. 

Brig tried to reassure me by telling me that this had happened with Ava too, where I was stuck dilated for a few hours at a couple of points in my labor.  But this time was different in that they couldn't increase the pitocin up too much though because the baby didn't react well to it and without that my contractions didn't seem to be strong enough to progress labor.  At 5:30 the resident checked me again and told me I was still a 6.  I was still trying to get a grip on my emotions.  My nurse felt bad that she had had to broach the subject of a c-section.  I told her I wasn't mad at her for suggesting it and I understood.  She seemed relieved.  About ten minutes later I felt extremely ill.  Brig handed me the bucket and I threw up.  I felt awful.  People started filling the room again and as the nausea started to subside I became aware that the baby's heart rate was down again.  They said they needed to do a c-section right away.  My doctor came in and checked me and said I was dilated to a 7 but the head was still not down enough.  I agreed to the c-section.  I was scared, but scared for my baby too.  They wheeled me into the operating room. 

I was shaking uncontrollably and crying.  I felt totally helpless and scared that I would feel when they made the incision.   I kept closing my eyes and taking deep breaths trying to calm down.  Brig got his scrubs on and they let him into the room.  He sat down on one side of me and held my hand.  His eyes looked scared and it scared me to see him looking scared.  He kept rubbing my hand and I felt better that he was there with me.  I had some morbid thoughts about if this were the last few moments of my life what I'd want to say to Brigham.  Not wanting to get too melodramatic I just told him I loved him. 

The anethesiologist worked their magic and I couldn't feel anything except pulling and pressure.  They asked Brig if he wanted to see the baby being "born", more like ripped from my womb!  Did I mention I didn't want a c-section?  He stood up and watched and I prayed he wouldn't make any horrified faces while I was watching him.  He got tears in his eyes and I heard our baby girl cry and the nurses talking sweet to her.  The doctor said, "Lots of dark hair!"  It was 6:09 p.m.  Brig got up and got to be with her while they cleaned her up.  It seemed like forever until they brought her over to me.  I couldn't see her face very well and they had a hat on her but I did spy some dark hair sticking out.  Brig went with the nurse to take the baby to the nursery. 

After they stitched me up they got me back to my labor and delivery room to wait for Brig and the baby.  I was still shaking and feeling pretty dizzy.  Soon Brig came back with the baby.  I was so happy to meet her.  We tried breastfeeding and she latched right on.  I was thrilled.  She had so much black straight hair.  I thought she looked similar to Ava but more like my side of the family.  She definitely has my nose.  She also has a few worry lines on her forehead that unfortunately I was born with as well. 

They wheeled me to my post delivery room and on the way there it became apparent that I was extremely nauseous.  Even with my eyes closed the room was spinning.  The motion of them moving me made me so sick.  I found out they had used morphine to numb me for the c-section.  I got sick last time I was given morphine during Ava's birth but I didn't know for sure if it was that that had made me sick.  Now I was sure.  They gave me three different anti-nauseous medications and none of them worked.  I threw up a few times and then all through the night I was sweating and freezing and the room spun. 

It turns out that part of the reason Brielle wasn't moving down into the birth canal was that she was facing up instead of down which I guess makes the circumference wider to deliver.  Also the cord was around her neck which is why she was struggling.  I'm glad they were able to get her here safely.  Next time I have a baby I'm skipping the whole labor thing and going straight for the c-section.  Even with the extra recovery time.  I'm not doing the whole draining exhausting labor drama again. 

It took us until the next day to name her because my husband was holding out hope that I'd agree to a name that I had told him repeatedly I would not name her.  But we had previously agreed on Brielle before he got the wild hair to name her something else.  Her middle name was coming from my side of the family this time as Ava's middle name comes from Brig's side.  I had to choose from Shirleen, Margaret, Melba, Rangna, and Debra.  Not that they aren't all lovely women, but I didn't think any of them sounded that great with Brielle.  Brig suggested I name her after me, but I've never loved my name either.  So I went way back and named her after my great great Grandma Caroline Letitia Godfrey Thompson.  She was a midwife.  That's about all I know about her. 

So the funny thing was the two things I was looking forward to: sleeping on my stomach and eating didn't happen quite as quickly as I anticipated.  I think it was like 36 hours without eating due to how sick I was and I still haven't been able to sleep on my stomach.  The good news is I have another precious baby girl to love on and things are wonderful here.  I kept thinking how lucky I am on Christmas Day.  And I am.  The luckiest girl in the world.