Without further ado, here’s Emery’s super awesome birth story!

On Wednesday, April 11^th, Holden and I set about our day as we had all the other days leading up to Emery’s birth.  We tried to make the most of our time together, knowing that our uninterrupted time as mother and only child was drawing to a close.  In the morning, we attended a yoga class at our community studio.  During previous classes, I would participate with Holden, but during this particular class I was feeling too drained to skip around the room with Holden, so I pulled up a chair and watched as H practiced yoga with his instructor (we were lucky to be the only people who showed up for class that day, so H got individualized instruction!)

After yoga, we went to the library where we picked up a copy of Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and snuggled into the couch to read the first couple of chapters.  We went home for lunch, and in the afternoon, I took H out for ice cream as a special treat.  When ordering my sundae, I noticed that it contained some incomprehensibly large number of calories, like 1500 of them, but I reasoned that if I were to go into labor that night, I would likely throw up, so the calories wouldn’t really count.  So I ordered the sundae and promised myself that I would not feel guilty for eating the whole thing.  Holden would periodically take a bite of his ice cream, smile at me, and rub my upper arm while saying that he loved me.  Once our desserts were finished, we drove downtown to pick Rob up for our appointment with my midwife.  At my appointment, my midwife told me that my cervix was in a very favorable state for labor.  I was 4 days past my due date, and the midwife wanted to set up an appointment for the following Monday to check the placenta and the level of amniotic fluid, and depending on how things looked, talk about speeding things along somehow.  I asked my midwife if we could try stripping my membranes as a first attempt at getting things going.  I didn’t want to jump straight to pitocin if I didn’t have to.  With my previous pregnancy, I had my membranes stripped at 41 weeks, and I had Holden 2 days later.  So I figured that I’d give this approach a try again.  I had my membranes stripped at my appointment, and had a lot of bloody show.  I knew this was a good sign, and because I was also feeling a little crampy, I texted my neighbor to tell her to keep her phone on because I was thinking that I might go into labor that night, and we might need her to watch Holden.

That evening, we had curried turkey burgers with mango chutney for dinner.  We tucked Holden into bed after dinner, and I felt so tired that I just had to pass out by 9PM.  Around 1AM, I woke up with very mild cramps.  I had experienced cramping and contractions at night for the past 2 weeks of my pregnancy, so I didn’t get too excited about them.  I decided to just stay in bed and see what would happen.  I tolerated the contractions in bed for about an hour, but by 2AM, I was feeling like I couldn’t comfortably deal with them while staying in bed—I needed to move around.  So I got up and drank a glass of water.  I checked my e-mail.  I paced the living room.  I found out I couldn’t sit with pressure on my back, or lay down with pressure on my back.  I went downstairs to the family room.  The gas stove was on because it was a chilly night, and as soon as I saw the flames lighting up the room, I knew I had to move the ottoman directly in front of the stove, drape myself over the ottoman, and let the heat from the stove work on the muscles of my lower back.  I was having pretty regular contractions at this point, and I dealt with them by breathing through them, drinking water, and letting the heat work its magic.  The house was quiet.  The house was still.  Rob and H were asleep upstairs.  It was just me with my baby, alone, in the firelight.  I heard a freight train whistle on its way through town, and thought about how these moments of peace and quiet could sustain me through the rest of my labor, how these moments would set the tone for my baby’s entry into the world.  I decided to grab my phone and download a contraction timing app, so I’d have a clue about the timing of my contractions for when I called my midwife.  I timed them for almost an hour, while draped over the ottoman.  They went from 5 minutes apart to 3 minutes apart during that hour, lasting about 45 seconds each.  As I approached the end of my 1-hour timing, I decided that I had let Rob rest for long enough, and it was now time to get him up and get going.  I went to wake him up (at this point, it was around 5AM), and told him that I thought I was in labor and that we should get to the hospital.

His response was this:

“I need to tell you about my dream first.”

He proceeded to tell me about his dream:  A local pizza delivery business was pulling people over and forcing people to try free slices of pizza as one of their newest promotional tactics.  Apparently, we too, had been pulled over and were forced to try one of these free slices.

“Great story,” I said, “now let’s get going.”

We had time somehow to both take showers (I was planning on shaving in the shower, but wisely decided against it once I realized that my contractions were getting a bit stronger and closer together).  Rob ate breakfast and drank coffee.  I abstained from both.  We called our midwife and told her we were on our way and that we’d be at the hospital by 6:30AM.  We called our neighbor and had her come over to get H off to school that morning.  We hopped in the car, and chatted about who knows what, as the sun lightened the sky on the morning of April 12^th.  I only had 3 or 4 contractions during the car ride, which was a good thing, because the back pain from my contractions was harder to deal with when sitting down.  We got to the hospital, parked in the garage, and elected to take the long walk to labor and delivery.  I had to stop every few minutes because of the contractions, but they were still manageable.  We arrived at labor and delivery finally, we got buzzed in, and I signed the paperwork.  I was calm and aware of everything through all of this.  We were escorted down to our labor and delivery room, room #5, which I am pretty sure was the same room where Holden was born almost four years before.  I changed into the hospital gown, and my midwife checked me.  I was 6 cm dilated and 100% effaced.

“Yay!” I said.

They poured me a bath and I got in and just let the contractions come.  In between contractions I was chatting with the nurses and midwife, telling jokes and stories.  As each contraction came, I would close my eyes and breath through it, and the staff would get quiet so I could focus on the contraction.  I concentrated on making my inhalations the same length and quality of my exhalations, and imagined the evenness of my breath soothing my muscles.  One of the nurses suggested that I try getting on my side (rather than staying on my back), but I quickly decided that position was painful in a way that was not productive to my labor.  My contractions were intensifying, and I was feeling pressure in my bottom with each contraction.  I felt like it was time to come out of the tub and stand up.  I got out of the tub, and had a contraction as one of the nurses was drying me off with a towel.  I remember that contraction was a turning point for the labor, because all of the contractions after that required a level of focus that turned me increasingly inward.

I walked out to the delivery room from the bathroom.  I labored for a time draped over the hospital bed.  I was getting more vocal, more rhythmic, groaning in low intonations, a gentle coaxing to my baby.  I imagined my baby’s face during this time, and the face of my older son meeting my new son for the first time.  I thought about the joy this would bring, and then the pain would ebb for a brief period, and then I could breathe and relax.  Then the pain would come on again, and I would turn again to thinking about my sons, their faces, and the love I have for them.  I stood up and announced that I had to go to the bathroom to throw up.  I went and sat down next to the toilet.  I didn’t throw up, but I could feel the room getting hot, I could feel sweat pouring from my body, I knew my heart was racing.  They brought me the birthing ball to lean on, and I rocked myself through each contraction.  The back rubs and words of encouragement from Rob and the midwife and nurses made me feel so nourished.  I soaked it up and let them sustain me through the tough moments, knowing that each tough moment would pass and I wouldn’t have to repeat it again.  Each tough moment dilated my cervix more and got me closer to meeting my son.  My midwife eventually coaxed me up from the bathroom floor and asked if she could check my progress.  I slowly climbed into the hospital bed, and my midwife announced that I was completely dilated.  I didn’t say anything, but I did give two thumbs up and cracked a smile at this news!

I didn’t feel the urge to push at all, but they told me that I should try to push with each contraction anyway, and that eventually I would feel the urge to push.  A nurse had me by one arm, and Rob had me by the other arm, and they both walked me up and down the delivery room.  We’d take 3 steps, then march twice in place.  It’s harder than it sounds.  And when I’d have a contraction, I’d have to drop down or squat and bear down with all my might while they supported me on either side.  I did this for several contractions.  Until one contraction—I beared down to push, and I had a sudden and excruciating pain in my sacrum.  I stopped pushing at once.  It turned out that my little guy was posterior, which was why I was having such trouble with having pressure on my back.  I kept thinking about how unpleasant the pain was, how I wanted it to end because I was tired, and wouldn’t it just be easier if I had drugs to take the edge off.  But of course, I was pushing, and it didn’t make sense to have drugs at this point.  And I had to face the hard fact that I was the ONLY person who could get me out of this situation.  No one else could do this for me.  I had to keep going.  There was no choice.  The nurses and midwife got me onto the hospital bed onto a hands and knees position, which was a much better way for me to push.  With each contraction, I’d go from hands and knees and bring my torso back towards my legs, almost like child’s pose.  I felt like I was harnessing a lot of power by transitioning from one position to the other.  I also was very vocal at this point, grunting through the pushes because I was working so hard.  After 50 minutes of pushing, I wasn’t certain that my baby was moving down at all.  And my water still hadn’t broken.  My midwife asked if she could break my water for me to help facilitate things.  Once she broke my water, my pushing became very effective.  I could actually FEEL my baby moving down.  I knew he was almost here.  My midwife had me move onto the floor.  I was on my knees on the floor, with my arms and head resting on the hospital bed.  I was able to push him out in this position, only 10 minutes after having my water broken.  I could feel his head come out, and once his head was out, I felt so much relief and I foolishly thought I was done!

One of the nurses said: “Here comes one shoulder!”

“Oh my God!” I thought, “I’m not done yet!”

But then both shoulders were out, and then his body was out, and I was done and holding him, him with the blinking, wet eyelashes and crying, and me looking at him, a stranger who I was sizing up in those first seconds, who would no longer be a stranger to me by the end of the day.  Just 4 hours after arriving at the hospital, Emery Stephen Friesel was born.  He was 8 lbs. 7.5 oz., 21 inches long.  He is lovely and perfect, and worth every challenging breath I had to take on the journey to bring him life.  I’m so glad he is here.

View from our hospital room on the day Emery was born:

Brothers meeting for the first time:

Cataloging here.

At 10:30am on April 12, 2012, we welcomed our new son Emery Stephen into the world. He was 8 pounds, 7½ ounces, and was 21 inches long. “He’s a real singer,” the nurse complimented as he launched into a forty minute wail. But he is a handsome devil, and we cannot wait to bring him home.

Amy did great–about a 9½ hour labor, and no medication. The nurses said she made it look easy.

We are all excited (if a bit tired).

Me and Mommy and Daddy and Carl Sagan were in a museum looking at owl bones. And then we went to the hospital because Mommy was sick. And Carl Sagan was making us dinner at the hospital. And then the phone rang and Daddy thought it was annoying and he pressed the button and BOOM the telephone speaker burned up with star fire flames. Nobody could call us but the fire didn’t get on us.

We are continuing to make plans, because why not?  We’re taking H to a friend’s birthday party tomorrow night, and then on Saturday we have brunch plans with friends.  I’m still planning on going to yoga on Sunday morning.  There’s no point in stopping all of these activities—except for work.  I’m really glad that I’ve taken the past 2 weeks to re-group.  I haven’t been sleeping well at night, and I’m uncomfortable all the time, and work was kind of making that discomfort worse.  Plus, having the time off has given me the chance to shift from thinking a lot about work to thinking a lot about our family.  And that is something that I needed to do, I think.

Holden has had his own share of anxieties about the upcoming addition.  His behavior was really pretty bad for most of March.  We attributed this to normal 3.5 year old developmental stuff.  But then the last few days of March he started asking whether March was over yet, and how many more days until April.  We asked him what was happening in April, and he said “My baby brother is going to be here, and I really, REALLY want it to be April NOW!!!”  He then talked about how much he wanted March to be over.  He’s clearly anxious in a good way, not a bad way, but even good anxiety and good stress can affect us negatively.  He then said something surprising—he said that he would be a grown-up in April.  We explained to him that he would still be a kid, and that he did not have to be a grown-up at all in April, or after his brother is born.  I’m sure that all of the innocent questions from other people about whether he’s going to be a big helper with the baby, etc.,  facilitated this view.  The funny part about this is that he didn’t seem stressed about the idea of being a grown-up—in fact, I think he LIKES the idea of being a grown-up.  He even told me that he doesn’t want to be a kid.  Even so, the prospect of that must be stressful to him on some level, which is why I think he was acting up so much last month.  I’m telling you, as soon as that calendar flipped to April 1st, we started seeing enormously improved behavior from him.  I think he was really anxious about getting to his brother’s birth month.  We’ve tried not to make too big of a deal about the new baby (even though it *is* a big deal), so we’d avoid this sort of thing.  But here we are.  I think it will be OK when the baby is here.  I think H will adjust very well.  I just think that the excitement of leading up to the birth (and not knowing what day it’s going to happen) is driving him a little  batty.  But hey, I know plenty of adults who can’t deal with the uncertainty, so it’s not that big a deal for H to be struggling with the ambiguity of it all.

Here’s H in action:

And pictured with his loot:

Afterwards, he bonded with the Easter Bunny:

It doesn’t get much cuter than that, does it?  After snuggling with the bunny, we went inside the parks and rec building for donuts and juice.  We walked back home, played outside, played inside, and had a delicious lunch of leftover homemade mac and cheese, fried chicken, and pomegranate-raspberry smoothies (TOTALLY the best beverage I’ve had in a while, hands down).  After lunch, we went out to the store to buy H a bike helmet so that he could come home and practice riding his bike safely:

We topped off our fun spring day with a salmon dinner (complete with quinoa and cucumber relish), and finished up Little House in the Big Woods, which H totally LOVED!!  We read the whole book in less than a week, and now that we’re done, he knows that I mean business when I say I’m going to “tan his hide.”  :)

Tomorrow:  If I get any sleep between now and 7AM, I’ll probably be in good shape to take a prenatal yoga class in the morning.  How we spend the rest of the day is up in the air!

Notice the horrible bookshelves on the left.  Also notice the original, single-pane window from 1973.  And the awful wood trim.  Ick.

Here’s where we stand today:

My apologies for the flash artifact on the left—-it’s still prettier than the bookshelf that used to be there:)  The new window does a lot for this little room, I think.  Here’s another view:

The yellow nightstand was an old piece of furniture that was handed down to us—it was originally a dark wood, with lots of gouges in it.  I took some leftover yellow paint and made it look like a new piece of furniture.  The glider (I’ve always wanted one, but never had the $$$ for it), was a CraigsList find for $20.  Score!

The artwork hanging on the wall here was something I did in an afternoon with H.  I bought pieces of styrofoam from the craft store, and with H, painted the edges with the same yellow paint I used on the nightstand below.  I then cut scrapbook paper to fit the rectangular styrofoam pieces and glued them into place. Voila—instant, really cheap art!  I should get a close-up shot of these some day soon so you can see the detail on them.

The biggest purchase for the room was the rug, which we bought new (but discounted) online.  The biggest time investment in the room was fixing/painting the walls and the doors.  You can’t see the doors from the shots I posted, but wow—they went from dark 1970s wood to a crisp white.  Much better!

Not pictured here is the beautiful artwork that Holden made for his brother.  I still need to get a decent shot of H’s creation so I can post it here.  He came up with his own intergalatic-themed painting to go with the rug since he thinks the little circles on the rug look like planets:)

So that’s our little guy’s new bedroom!  We think it turned out really well, although he likely won’t be sleeping in there for a few more months!

A couple of nights ago I had some contractions that woke me up pretty early in the morning.  The contractions felt like true labor contractions (they were in my back), but they didn’t last long like “real” contractions.  I stayed in bed, waiting to see what would happen, but nothing did.  I ended up e-mailing my boss and co-worker later that morning to say that I would not be coming in, not because I thought I was in labor, but because I was afraid of working all day, only to go into labor that night and be totally exhausted.  My boss and co-worker thought maybe I’d come in today, but I ended up e-mailing them and saying that I just really need to be home now.  I think I reached my limit with work—sitting in one spot was excruciating for my back, and I’ve been in so much pain at work that I don’t think I’m actually all that productive.  It’s been nice to stay home today while H is in school—I’m getting some light cleaning done (the house has been a disaster for weeks), and I’m polishing up a couple of chores that I’ve been meaning to do for years (like back-up all of my old files from my 10-year old laptop!)  I assure you, this is not nesting behavior, this is just “my-house-is-a-freaking-disaster” type of behavior, and I’d be foolish not to clean it now while I can.  Family will be here soon, and I assume that my parents will come up at some point, so I’ve had to prepare the guest bedroom and guest bathroom, and generally create a more hygienic environment for everyone.  Yes, it’s that bad.  But at the same time, I am AMAZED at what I can get done while H is in school.

It’s snowing here now but not sticking to the ground.  The grass has begun to turn green, and there are buds on the trees.  Our flowers are starting to poke through the ground.  My hospital bag is packed and in the car.  We’re feeling ready for this little guy to get here, but I’m not sure he’s quite ready yet.  Technically, I’m not due until April, yet the e-mails started coming last week, with people wondering if I’d had the baby.  It’s annoying, even though they do this to settle their own curiosity and anxiety about things.  So, it might be time to unplug soon, for my own sanity.

There’s really not much to report.  One week I had lost a pound.  The next week I had gained 3.  I’m up 32 pounds total.  Blood pressure is good.  I haven’t asked for any more cervical checks, but I might actually ask for one this week out of curiosity.  I’m still doing weekly yoga, still working part-time, still having back pain and heartburn.  Baby boy is still crazy active.

Holden is going through a bit of a rough patch with his behavior.  I don’t think it has  anything to do with the impending baby, I just think it’s normal 3.5 year old stuff.  It’s been challenging to drag a kicking and screaming boy into time out, when he weighs FORTY POUNDS, and my pelvis feels like it’s going to crack from the pressure.  It’s challenging, but the discipline must go on.  We had an especially rough day on Friday, when my neighbor gave him a friendly reminder about his behavior (totally fine with me, I actually like when other adults chime in).  In response, Holden told her “You can’t tell me what to do.”  Um, woah.  So I made him apologize right away, then left with him to put him in an immediate time out at our house.  I had to DRAG him up the stairs.  I locked him in his room, and after some yelling, crying, throwing things, and having an all-out tantrum, I told him he’d be getting an X for the day.  He’s been working on earning an outer space placemat for the past 2.5 weeks, and at the end of each day, he earns either a check or an X.  He doesn’t have to be perfect to get a check mark, but telling off the neighbor was definite grounds for getting an X. When he learned he’d be getting an X, he started sobbing and after a few minutes alone in his room, he grew quiet.  After a little while, I went into his room so we could talk about the situation together.  Later that same night while tucking him in, he told me that he didn’t know he couldn’t say such a thing to a grown-up.  I believe him (he’s not nearly sophisticated enough to lie about something like that).  And when I started thinking about it, I realized where he may have gotten the idea to say such a thing to a neighbor.  Recently, H was watching another kid play and started to be a little bossy with the kid, and I told H, “You shouldn’t be bossy with him, you shouldn’t be telling other kids what to do, or how to play.”  Of course, it seemed perfectly natural for H to generalize this and say to our neighbor, “You can’t tell me what to do.”  Sigh.  Being three is all about learning exceptions to rules—it’s about revealing all of the many social qualifiers that guide acceptable human interaction.  It’s tough stuff:

Listen to grown-ups

• But not strangers, because they might be sketchy

Don’t be bossy

• Unless another kid is doing something dangerous
• Or they are trying to hurt/annoy you, and you need to tell them to stop
• Or they are hurting someone else

Don’t let other people touch your private areas

• Unless he or she is your doctor
• Or your mom or dad
• Or your teacher is helping you go potty
• And you have granted these people permission to do so

Ugh, so many rules!  In my opinion, this is what makes the age of three WAY harder than any previous age.  Learning how to navigate these social situations is difficult; explaining how these social situations work is exhausting.  Once H gets the words, unless, except, if, but, and, & or fully incorporated into his vocabulary, he’ll have mastered this form of social kung fu.

In other news, my boss was recently diagnosed with cancer.  She had surgery a couple of weeks ago and has started a 6-month course of chemotherapy.  It’s horrible news, and we are all hoping for a positive outcome.  That said, I don’t know about the future of my job, and whether I’ll have one to return to after maternity leave.  Weird, because I lost my job after H was born, but for completely different reasons.  Is the universe trying to tell me something?  For now, I’m going to stay positive and assume that I’ll be able to go back.

Hey, you want to see a picture?  People have been bugging me because I have basically taken no maternity photos during this pregnancy.  So here’s one of the four of us last week (38 weeks) enjoying our unseasonably warm weather down by the lake:

I had a check-up today.  I’m up 30 lbs. (not happy about that, but it is what it is, I guess.)  I’m 1.5-2 cm dilated, 60% effaced, -2 station.  So—things are starting, but labor is still off in the distance by several weeks.  They are estimating an 8.5-9 lb. baby when all is said and done.  I’m starting my weekly appointments this week, so there’s going to be a lot more driving back and forth to the hospital.  Plus, my chiropractor wants to see me now once each week, which is fine, but is just another thing to pencil into the calendar.

I feel good, other than the fact that my back, hips, and ribs hurt nearly all the time.  Sleep is hard.  Breathing is hard.  How is it that I forgot how miserable this last month of pregnancy is?  It’s been especially hard to wrangle Holden.  He’s had a few days this week with full-on temper tantrums that required me to put him in time out.  Of course, he thought it would be cute to giggle and run away from me instead of going to his room for his punishment, so I had to drag all 40 lbs of him into his room, which always kills my back and makes my stomach tense up.  I think he’s going through typical 3.5 year old stuff, but I also think that he’s upset that I can’t do as many things with him as I used to—like chasing him around the yard, playing hide and seek, getting on my hands and knees to play, etc.  He just needs to get used to it, because this is how it is.

I have more to say, but my back is on fire just sitting here for a few minutes typing.  Sitting for any length of time is unbearable.  I’m working up until my due date, and although I really love my job, the whole sitting-in-front-of-a-computer thing is not working out too well these days.

Oh, and I could use a drink:)