For the last three days, I have been haunted by a dream. Not the events in the dream, but the house in the dream. It is not a house I recognize, it is not even a house I can picture myself in (it appears older, and run down). But for the last several years, I see this same house. Only the back yard, and very specific details. A converted unattached garage at the back left corner of the property, the garage has been converted to a mother in law apartment with access to an alley in the back, and into the yard on the side. It is a small studio with a bathroom, and kitchenette. On the very back of the property is a chain link fence, and a garden that spans the entire back of the property, but is only about 8 feet wide with a small rock path from the garage to the back yard. In front of the garden is another fenced in area, this one not as long, just as wide with a worn out wire fence. Half the yard is flat, then it inclines leading into a walk-out basement. On the main floor of the house there is a large deck, and one more floor above that. The house is blue, or green, and barren of any sort of foliage. I cannot tell what area this house is in, although it has green grass, so we can rule out Texas or Colorado. LOL

The dreams itself vary, and usually don’t stick with me, as much as this house. I have very briefly seen the inside, but it seems that the back yard is the most significant element. The last dream I had involved finding out the mother in law apartment had been broken into, and a mother, father, and toddler were living in there unbeknownst to us. We ended up finding out they were legal immigrants who could not make ends meet and had recently lost their home. We agreed to let them stay and furnished the home with stuff we had in the house, allowing them to stay rent free and feeding them meals, in exchange for help around the house in the evenings. I babysat the little boy for a few hours while they worked to get some money saved to get a place of their own. This part of the dream seemed sort of injected into a dream that focused mainly on the back yard. I just wish I knew what it meant.

My one issue with hand washing is the incredible amount of water usage. I am not the most water conservative person, but I felt like I was using up a lot more water than I wanted to be. So I used the water from my shower to wet pail. When I was cleaning my hair, I let the soapy water drain over my diapers. I let them soak in that. And while I was showering this morning I used that time to rinse my diapers. Then while I was shaving, I let the water fill up the bucket with a small scoop of tide and then when I was all clean I agitated them, rinsed them, wrung them out and hung them to dry, hoping that the ominous black clouds decide not to dump until after my diapers are dry and off the line.

Today is officially the last day, but I am thinking I am going to extend until tomorrow, but machine wash on Tuesday, unless we run out of covers. I will also be able to use Tuesday to sum up my experience and share what I learned. Kim, the founder of the project, gave us the option to stop tonight at midnight, or to stop the 30th at midnight.

*Edited to add pictures*
I went outside to check the progress of my flats and got these pictures of my dog Isis playing under my clothes line. My camera has a super fast shutter speed and she still managed to look like a blur, she was really zooming and having a great time! Unfortunatly, my diapers are still pretty damp, and it isn’t very warm out right now, 59 degrees with an occasional breeze of 8mph, but we only have a 10% chance of rain until sunset, so just the wind alone I am hoping will dry them.

*Edited once again to add this:

It is amazing how quickly you can go from laid back to emergency. When I woke up, Liam had 1 dirty diaper in the wet pail from his night time diaper. I changed him, washed him, and put a clean diaper on him. I changed him twice more, one cover was saturated and the other one contained a poop of epic proportion. He some moisture wicked onto his clothing, but the poop mess was 100% contained in his cover. So now he has one clean cover, two dirty covers in the wet pail and so he had two clean ones, right? Problem is, *both* were missing. I called “all hands on deck” to get my helpers rounded up and one clean cover was found, someone put it on the stuffed bunny. The second one was nowhere to be found. I finally located it, 15 year old had put it in the diaper pail, not the orange wet pail I told him to. And when I asked him twice if he had moved it into the appropriate pail, he claimed he had. So I quickly washed the three covers, wrapped them in a dry towel and walked all over it to get them as dry as I could. Two got hung in my bathroom, one joined the other still wet cover outside on the line. The baby is in his last clean cover and I am changing him frequently so it stays as dry as possible. I would like to avoid having to go cover-free if at all possible. Sorry for any typos, I have a 5 month old guest blogger today who keeps trying to mess with my laptop.

The nicest thing about this challenge is the tips I have gained from the community of other bloggers participating in this experiment, just click on any of the links below and visit any of these extraordinary bloggers. Make sure you comment and tell them how awesome they doing.

Cotton Bottom Mama hung her diapers with clothes pins on hangers and then hung her diapers in a nice neat row on her shower. What a great tip! No more diapers hanging from every single surface of my bathroom!!

Another tip I read was to beat up your diapers against furniture to soften them up! This works so well, my diapers are no longer stiff, and the helpers were eager to lend a hand. I have to say, I have the cutest help ever! I was worried how well I would be able to juggle 5 kids, flats, and hand washing, especially without my husband’s help (he’s in Afghanistan), but it has been a lot easier than I imagined. I do want to say sorry to my husband, there were a few times when we were Skyping that he would run off to go shower, and I would run off to churn diapers and he would be back and dressed, and I had left him waiting. Sorry honey!

Last night, it looked like we might be clearing up, so I decided not to wash diapers and to wash and hang them in the morning, so I can sun them in the afternoon and dry them in a couple hours vs. overnight, and naturally bleach them. Mistake #2. I KNEW the forecast wasn’t calling for sun this week. I had one clean cover left, and he had already had a big poop earlier, I would be fine. I washed and hung his diapers and I noticed him turning red. I guess the poop earlier was just a warm up, and this was the main attraction. I cleaned him, got him nice and doubled up, went to grab a cover and none was to be found! I looked on the rack and four were hanging and I just put the 5th into my soapy bucket so I could wash it too. So if I really was without a washer and dryer, today I think I would have run screaming to the laundromat or to a friends house. Since this was an emergency, I decided to think of a way to rapidly dry the diaper that the average family home and the only thing I could think of was the hair dryer. I may have been cheating, but while the baby happily chewing on his feet in a diaper sans cover, I was washing the newly pooped in diaper and had the hair dryer angled to blow on the dryest of my 4 covers. It got done just in time too, after he nursed, Liam was exhausted and went to bed.

Overall though, I still wish I had known about flats when I was a new mama. My hubby had just joined the Army and we were struggling and living paycheck to paycheck. I remember letting him wear his diapers an extra hour or so because I knew how expensive they were. I remember counting change and hoping we could scrape together enough for a small bag of generics because we were a few days from payday. Even if I had cloth diapered part time, it would have really stretched our budget. However, in 1997, I didn’t know anything about cloth back then outside of the diapers my mother used one me. Even back then, I would have had options outside of the rubber pants my mom used on me. That is a picture of my mom and I in 1980. I was 15 months old.

So earlier today (or call it yesterday if you want to keep it real) my little three decided that if they all behaved equally naughty, mom would allow it with retribution, because of safety in numbers, right? *insert melting brain here*

It felt like a country western song. Mom wanted to sleep, the phone was ringing, the baby was whining for breast milk, the 6 year old was wanting to tattle, and the 2 year old wanted a “poopy prize”. I thought everything was settled back into place, and I was going to try to get a few more minutes of sleep, when the baby boy decided he was fat, full, and flippin’ jubilant! There goes my lazy Saturday.

I should have known it was going to be one of those days, everyone was crying and fighting. It took me a full hour to get a sip of my then cold coffee. By lunchtime I was DONE. I put the sleeping baby, and the 2 year old down for naps. The 6 year old was soon sent to nap too after he demonstrated his own fatigue. However, no one napped! All three were exhausted, but no one napped. By around 3pm, I was in tears.

Of course, as soon as I had sufficiently filled my bladder with iced coffee, and was about ready to start dinner, not only did the baby, but also the 2 year old fell asleep. Thankfully the 14 year old walked in from playing to get a drink, and I asked him to hold the (now crying) baby so I could make Fra Diavolo Sauce With Farfalle Pasta, and broccoli. I changed it up a bit, I used fresh tomatoes and added some white wine. I also used only shrimp (doubled), cooked it longer, and served over farfalle (bow tie pasta) instead of linguini. I thought it might be too spicy, so I made some Cabernet Marinara with Herbs for the little ones, but offered them both. I think they favored the spicy shrimp sauce. I had to giggle a bit because they started fighting over who could have the last of the broccoli, they all decided they had not had enough, and Austin rushed in to make sure everyone got two more pieces.

We made a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies, and at them hot, with cold glasses of milk. We were all sleepy, and I decided after everyone was in bed, that I would slip into a hot bath and then go to bed early myself….. but first let me just fix this spam problem real quick. Real quick. Famous last words.

At 10:19 PM, my darling husband gets on Skype. I tell him “Don’t laugh, but I have such a headache. And it is all from reading confusing stuff.” He reassures me he is not laughing. “Owie, hurty head. .htaccess is so confusing.” He tells me he doesn’t know what .htaccess is (I didn’t either until today. I explain what it is, what it does, and what I am using it for. I will not quote what I said because it consists of several F bombs, and other colorful expletives… and I would like to remain classy.

I tell him “Half my face is limp. I must have stroked out somewhere between .htaccess ssh and ftp”. My darling husband says “I want to see”, and starts a video conference. *sigh* At 10:44, about the time I told him my brain was made of pudding, and drool was dripping out of my half-limp stroked out face, the butt tells me “I have worse problems btw. I can not find my hair brush.”

While his hair WAS quite poofy, by this time I was ready to hang myself by my shoe laces. I had no less than 15 tutorials open, terminal, my ftp, a glass of wine and my sanity was long gone. Four minutes later, he proclaims all is right in the world, he has found his hair brush. Well lah dee freakin’ dah! He then asked me if that was my soul he saw leaking out of my eyes. Well yes it is.

At 11:36, he tells me he has to go to work. And I tell him I have to bash my skull in with a baseball bat. A little after 12:10am, I figure out the problem. The file I was looking for could EASILY be created by opening a simple word processor, uploading it to my ftp (server), renaming it, and then editing it with the script I wanted, and voila, spammer would be 404ed. I have no idea if my 2-3 hours worked, but I guess I will find out soon enough when my spam folders keep filling up. AHHHH, what a nightmare!

So now that it is 2am, I can finally climb into bed, and in 4 hours I can start this all over again. Sleep deprived and crabby. As soon as I finish knitting this last row real quick.

Nothing says “I have too many leftovers, no imagination, and a chunk of ground beef” like meatloaf. What other meal allows you to simultaneously clean out your fridge, hide produce, and feel good about giving your kids a hot meal with just some easy prep and patience. I found that after just a few times, I no longer needed a cook book, or as just meat. I do have a couple shortcuts to share though:

1. Use a good food processor. I like the Euro-Pro Ninja Master Prep Blender and Food Processor, it makes me feel like a real ninja with all the rogue veggies I can puree and hide into what the kids think is a pure hunk of meat.
   The problem with the Ninja though, is it attracts my 6 year old like a moth to a flame, or as I say a cat to an electric can opener. With an audience, you have to be even more of a ninja to toss in the green beans from last night, a couple raw carrots, an onion, a tomato, or whatever you have on hand that is raw or requires a good blending. You may have to threaten your kids with certain death, amputation of fingers, or starvation if they are picky and you don’t want them to see how you make your ‘secret sauce’.
2. Once you have your paste resembling a bowl of baby crap, scrape it into the Kitchenaid mixing bowl. You can also toss in more leftovers, some examples include: rice from when you had Chinese takeout, whatever that was in the Tupperware container that vaguely smells like potatoes, actual mashed potatoes, etc. Get creative here, this is where your leftovers get eaten up and not composted.
3. Toss in a couple eggs, and now raid your condiments. You can add ketchup, or BBQ sauce, mustard if you like, worshesher-whatever sauce, etc. Throw in some random spices that smell good, some milk, and a dry ingredient like crackers, bread crumbs, or oatmeal. Mix all these in your stand mixer, and let it sit for a couple minutes to turn into a gross looking, gelatinous mess.
   I read somewhere that the key factors to the perfect fluffy meatloaf are to let the dry ingredients sit and get soggy. Also, to not molest the meat… err, in other words, you don’t over-mix the ground beef, so pre-mixing the other ingredients well is really important.
4. This is where my love affair with my Kitchenaid mixer was born. Use the dough hook that comes with it, add your meat and then mix. No longer do I have to relish in the joy of cold, raw, ground meat between my fingers, the booger-eating cousin to the much cooler sand between my toes, illegitimate son of the promiscuous between my legs and the ever brilliant between my ears.
   But I digress. Once your meat and mush have gently been mixed together, plop the whole thing into a baking dish on 350 and cook for an hour. You now have time to watch a show on the DVR, play a Facebook game, or kick the kids outside and hide in the bathroom with a book.
5. When you hour of bliss is over, slather more condiments over the top, bake another 5 minutes, then serve. You can serve with a vegetable, or a starch or both. If I include enough veggies, I will let my kids believe they are getting off veggie-free and just serve with potato wedges or something. My boys are pretty good about eating their meatloaf, but my daughter isn’t as wonderful. Then again, for the child who hates vegetables, she would pick a salad and plain white rice for dinner over meatloaf any day of the week.

Tonight the princess thought she would be slick. After all the kids had eaten, including the baby who happily nursed while I dislocated my shoulder to eat cold meatloaf, the ones who ate got fresh chocolate chip cookies. The princess decided she could skip her meal and go right to the cookie. When that didn’t work, and screaming didn’t make me give in, she resorted to climbing onto the counter, grabbing the Tupperware and running as fast as her stubby little legs would take her. She ended up going to bed without finishing her meatloaf, or a cookie, but she did end up going to bed with tons of tears. I think tonight mommy is going to drink a nice glass of wine for dessert, because mommy drinks when you cry.

*This is not a sponsored post, but Kitchenaid or Euro-Pro is welcome to send me a free gift for this post if they would like. I really want the mixing blade with the rubber spatula built in for my mixer or extra bowls for my ninja. *wink wink*

I song I have googled numerous times to find the name of played, Regina Spektor – Fidelity, but when the only lyrics you know is “and it breaks my heart” and “break my fall”, you don’t get very far. Same with Citizen Cope – Let The Drummer Kick, a song I thought was called “The Drama Kid” and could not understand why I could never find it via Google. Another song that I loved, and had to lyric search for a while back was Modest Mouse – Float On. Mad World – Gary Jules came on, a song that Bobby and I both love, but got a kick out of when they used it in a commercial for Gears of War 2, a game Bobby plays.

While I was ironing Bobby’s shirts, and a funny thing happens to clean shirts when you apply hot steam. The scent of the person who wears them comes out and I found myself not just missing my husband today, but really missing him. I miss him every hour of every day, but thankfully I only get that hole in my heart deep loneliness every once in a while. The song that came on just then was Geto Boys – Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta, a song I have not heard since middle school, and there I was, ironing, missing my husband, kicking it Gangsta style. I got a good chuckle and it lifted my spirits. Another throw back from a little further back in ’88 was Pixies – Where Is My Mind.

The Postal Service – Such Great Heights played, which I love, and put on my Facebook about 6 months back, along with the Iron & Wine- Such Great Heights version because I had never realized that The Postal Service song was the same as the Iron & Wine version.

The kids and I had a great sweaty dance to Michael Franti & Spearhead – Say Hey (I Love You) and OutKast – Hey Ya!, two songs the kids have always loved. And several songs that Bobby used to sing by The White Stripes, OK Go, The Killers, and Cage The Elephant – Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked, a song he was singing along with on the radio that I had never heard, which is unusual for us, usually I am the one to discover new artists. Of course there were a lot of other songs mixed in, these were just the main ones that really spoke to me, were songs I had been searching for in the past, or played when I needed them the most. However the Over the Rainbow song, by Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwoʻole came on twice; this is a song I can no longer listen to because it reminds me of a schoolmate’s tragic loss.

So I am not sure what all these songs and artists have in common, Pandora claims that it because I like “repetitive melodic phrasing” and “mild rhythmic syncopation”, so I guess we will go with that. Whatever the reason, they complimented each other nicely, and made for a very happy day.

I wasn’t planning on joining the UBP 11, but it is 2:45am and I am up with a sick 2 year old, so I figured this sure beats watching Sesame Street on Sprout with her, but still allows me to cuddle with her.

So if you found me on UBP11, let me introduce myself.

I am a Heather, a 32 year old full time Domestic Engineer. Obviously my shift does not end at 5pm, sometimes I get lucky and I get to go on break from 9pm-7am. If I am even luckier, it is uninterrupted and insomnia stays away.

Ten Facts about me/us
• I have five kids, 4 boys, 1 girl.
• The boys are 14, 13, 6, and 3 months; the little girl is 2 1/2.
• I have been married to my husband for almost 14 years.
• We married when we were just teenagers.
• I was an Army wife for 8 years and lived at two different installations.
• My hubby is now a PMC (Private Military Contractor) working in Afghanistan.
• I have spent 3 years of my life being a geographically-separated parent, and I just started on the 4th year. Not single or solo parent, as hubby is very involved, but you can only do so much when you are 6,000 miles apart.
• Despite having 5 kids, I am an infertility survivor. I adopted my oldest son through a stepparent adoption almost five years ago. My 2nd oldest was conceived easily. My 3rd child took 6 years to conceive after many failed months with a specialist and infertility drugs. My 4th child took 2 years to conceive and I needed fertility medications combined with an IUI. My 5th child was quite the surprise!
• I try to be as natural of a parent as I can be. I believe in extended breastfeeding, cloth diapering, baby wearing, and natural childbirth.
• Despite believing in Natural Childbirth, I have only achieved it once, and that is when I had my 4th child at home, in the water.

My blog title, Mistakes in Motherhood, stems from my belief that we are all flawed, and parents are not immune. As a mom I know I have made many mistakes, said things I regret, done things that make me cringe, but in the end they are all learning experiences. I look forward to meeting new moms (and dads) so we can share and learn from each other.

I just started a Facebook page, so be sure to follow me, but be patient as I learn what the heck I am doing!

Wow, it has been FOREVER since I tackled, but I did it, I feel wonderful, and I am so proud of the work I did. So join me for a well deserved cup of coffee, and enjoy my mayhem & foolishness.

Today I tackled my master bedroom suite. I have not cleaned my bedroom since Bobby left for Afghanistan, at the end of February! GROSS!! I have however cleaned my bathroom weekly. So yeah, it was horrible. I am sharing a room with my sweet 3 month old, so the room is pretty cramped. I took the before pictures at 2am this morning, because I knew I would not be motivated to tackle the room today if I waited until after I went to bed (I wasn’t) so that is why I have day & night shots. It took me about 3 hours to tackle these rooms.

Here is the changing table before & after. I designed this using a chrome shelving unit, baskets, and a changing table pad. I love it, and it all can be re-purposed later when he grows up.

His side of the bed before, and after.

My side of the bed (with a sleeping Liam), before, and after. Somehow I guess I either didn’t photograph, or upload the box of cords & miscellaneous crap piled between the shelf and night stand. Now that the co-sleeper is gone, I probably should switch the bookshelf and night stand back. I didn’t think of that until just now. I had switched them out before Liam was born so I could have him in the co-sleeper next to my bed, which he hated.

My dresser, before and after.

Liam’s crib.

Ah, bliss, here is a full room shot. It feels like a sanctuary once again.

And finally:

The sink portion of my master bedroom. I just recently cleaned the shower and toilet side of the bathroom, so I didn’t take before/after pictures of it.

So there you have it. Probably the thing I am most proud of are things you can’t see. I dusted the tops of everything, the ceiling fan, the blinds, the back of the TV. I cleaned under every dresser, nightstand, shelf, and under the beds. I vacuumed the top of my bed rails, the mattresses, Liam’s sheep skin, in the closet.

I hope you enjoyed this post. I am going to drink a million more cups of coffee, fold diapers, and wait for the chinese I ordered to be delivered while watching a movie with the kids. I earned this. Oh, and no post is complete without a sleeping baby picture. Enjoy!

Quickies:

Liam is 2 months old today, he had a well baby exam and was 13 lbs. 3 oz shy of a 6 pound weight gain. Over 6 pounds if you count his lowest weight, he’s also gained 3 inches. Pretty awesome if you figure he’s gained 3 inches in 2 months and the average is 2 inches. The average weight gain is 5-7oz a week and he averages 11.6 a week.

Dude– I’m never getting another Dell. Christopher’s charger for his Alienware broke. 4 months of light use, we are talking probably 20 times of unplugging/plugging. It is a BAD design, think of a thin copper wire, like maybe the size of a .7mm pencil lead, housed inside a plug as big around as a pencil with the eraser pulled out. I was told that they would not honor my warranty because if it broke, it was “abuse”. BS! Got an aftermarket charger on eBay, no way is Dell getting $80 from me for a new cord.

Dyson, ROCKS. I love them! Their customer service is top notch. I called to order a new cover for brush, a thin piece melted or broke off. They are sending an entire brush mount, a $110 retail part, for free, on a 1 1/2 yr old vacuum. No questions asked. So now my raves for customer service are Apple, Comcast, Dyson, Verizon, Automated Petcare Products (Litter Robot), and of course USAA.

Austin was holding Liam last week and said “I LOVE it when his face turns colors, it is so red”. I said “yes honey, that is because he’s pooping”. His eyes got big, his face got red and he said “oh god no!!” and passes him back to me. Funny boy!

Sophia is totally potty trained, and we ventured out into public today without any accidents. Still no poop success, and we have not braved overnight yet.

Matthew got this ‘stache from a birthday party yesterday, I had to tell him to take it off to go to bed, he wanted to keep it on. I told him he looks like a young Burt Reynolds, but he didn’t get the reference, so I called him Baby Earl from the TV showMy Name is Earl. All day I was saying “my name is Matt”.

Christopher has been an absolute joy this week. He’s finally been allowed to get a Facebook page and has been absolutely superb at getting his chores done without being told.

I started writing this post 7 hours ago. I kept getting interrupted.

One of the downfalls of my job though, was the cost of scrubs. I got some of my uniforms at the big box chain stores, but they were itchy and very plain. I also used dedicated scrub stores, but the cost of uniforms was ridiculous. I was lucky enough that I was not limited to a specific color, and could wear any pattern I wanted, so it was possible for me to buy scrubs online at a great discount, and get soft, comfortable uniforms for a very reasonable cost. Last year when we made our cross country move, I ended up giving away a huge box (21 sets?) to a friend’s sister, and it was really sad. I mean on one hand, I love being a mom, but I cannot pretend that I don’t miss bringing in an income, and getting all dressed up in my nursing uniforms scrubs each and every day.

My husband, or dare I say boyfriend, would look equally stunning in a dark gray suit, and a long wool Michael Kors dress coat. He would have come straight from work and we would meet for cocktails and talk about our day before our 8pm dinner reservation.

It would be cold by the time we leave the restaurant, but I would stay warm in my Cole Haan wool-cashmere swing coat. We would take a cab home, not a minivan, and we would live in a stylish apartment in a high rise, without furniture marred by bored preschooler with a fork. My cupboard doors would never know the joy of being broken by a preschooler swinging on them. TV could be enjoyed in peace, without interruption, and free of tiny fingerprints. I would no know that milk turns into a substance stronger than glue when spilled without being seen, and orajel will strip the stain right off of a nightstand, almost instantly. Vacations can be taken without reserving two hotel rooms. Income would be disposable. Sleep would not be interrupted by a hungry baby or a puking child.

The more I think about it, the more I realize how lucky I am to spend all day in sweatpants, baby in arms, heart full of love. I will drive my minivan with pride, every seat filled by a butt. I will drink my coffee out of necessity, not pleasure. I will trade in my free time of reading books and hot baths for changing diapers and helping with homework. I will trade in my leather pumps for bare feet, or big name brands like Skechers and Converse. I will shop at the Goodwill, Target, and Costco. But I will never give up my day dreams of my alternate universe self, skinny, enjoying a latte while walking to her job in some fancy high rise in New York City. Dressed to kill.

Oh sleep, why do you reject me so? I miss you. I want to fly back into your arms and feel your warm embrace. Coffee is just a fling, a mistress, she doesn’t make me feel as good as you do. She’s only meeting a need you have been denying me lately. Please take me back. I will try to be faithful. You are my one true love.

I was due with baby #5 on 12/27/10, but given my history of 40+5 – 41 week births, I truly expected to meet my son or daughter in January. Around 33 weeks I was risked out of home birth for blood pressure readings over the 140/90 mark and encouraged to see my homebirth midwife’s favorite OB. At first, I was so angry and hurt I was feeling like I was not important in this busy practice. I would drive 45 minutes, wait 45 minutes, see the nurse for 5 minutes and the OB or CNM for 5 minutes then drive 45 minutes back. My kids were frustrated, I was frustrated and I was just so sad every time my blood pressure was taken and they would tell me how good it was. However I kept reminding myself “it is what it is” and each visit got better and I slowly changed my outlook and my attitude. I told myself that everything has its purpose, and there had to be purpose for this. Maybe this would be my healing hospital birth after my first and second left me feeling like a spectator at a sport where I had lost control and dignity? Maybe I could prove to myself I could have a natural hospital birth?

I diligently wrote up my birth plan. I stated I wanted my baby’s cord to be cut only after it stopped pulsating. I wanted to labor and deliver in the water, after all, this hospital *IS* the only one in my state that allows planned waterbirths. I did not want medication offered to me. I wanted to push in any position I wanted to be in and I didn’t want someone telling me when to push. And most of all I didn’t want pitocin or anything else to augment my labor.

So Christmas came and went without even a braxton hick. I just had to make it through my husband’s birthday the next day so I didn’t “ruin Christmas or my Birthday” as he kept teasing me. My little boy had plans of his own. Around 3pm on December 26th my contractions started coming 5 minutes apart, lasting a little over a minute. They were still pretty mild, so I just went about my routine. After dinner, I needed Bobby to blow up my birth ball so I could rock through them. By the time my kids went to bed, they started picking up and I would have to pause and breathe through them. By 1am on my due date, I decided I needed my doula here to help me through them. They started getting closer together and lasting longer, so around 3am we decided to head up to the hospital since it was an hour away.

I arrived at the hospital and they hooked me up to the monitors. My contractions had slowed down a bit so we decided to walk the halls until they picked up a little more. Around 6am they checked me, and I was only 2cm dilated with a baby who was not engaged. We decided I would go home, take a bath and a nap, and come back when labor picked back up. They did think it would be today though. A due Date baby! I was excited because only about 5% of all babies are born on their due dates, and it was my earliest baby yet!

Instead of driving all the way home, we decided to stay in a hotel down the street where I would take my bath, crawl into bed, and sleep. While in the bath I noticed I was losing fluid of some sort, but it appeared to have color in it, so I assumed it was my mucous plug. When I felt more fluid coming out I stood up and called my husband and noticed green water running down my legs in large gushes. Not only had my water broken, but the baby had passed meconium, which could suggest the baby was in distress. 45 minutes after we arrived at our hotel, we were leaving. Talk about a very expensive hour! Bobby and I joked that it looked like I was just a booty call, and he had some sicko pregnancy fetish.

This time when I arrived at the hospital, it was for keeps; they put me into the water birthing suite and hooked me up to monitors for intermittent monitoring. I called my doula back, and when she arrived we started walking the halls. Around noon, they checked me again and I was still unchanged, so I ask her to stretch me if at all possible.

She was able to stretch me to a 4-5cm, but my baby was still really high and not moving down. My contractions were mostly in my back, so my doulas did hip squeezes and we do squats with each contraction to move my baby down. While we were walking the halls, I saw my old midwife, who is there with other clients who had to transfer during labor, and she gave me a big hug and words of encouragement from her mentor; “remember, each centimeter is not created equally”. Around 6pm my contractions were starting to space out, and my baby was still not dropping, so it was suggested that while our doulas were taking a break for dinner, maybe Bobby and I should try nipple stimulation to pick up labor, because the OB wanted to start pitocin. When the doulas returned a half hour later, we asked for a little more time and tried lunges and rebozo.

[My doulas, Diksha & Sarah, using the Rebozo on me to get baby to move into a more favorable position]

We decided the baby was in a funky position and that is why s/he was not moving down and engaging, and without strong contractions to push the baby onto my cervix, l just would not dilate. At 7pm I was checked again and I still had not changed at all since noon, when I was stretched from a 2 to a 4-5.

[Me with my nurse, also named Heather]

My nurse gently suggested that I change rooms, since I could no longer labor or deliver in the birthing tub, because I was getting pitocin, and they were expecting a couple who desired a water birth. I was not about to let someone else lose their chance at a water birth, so we moved. But it was sad to cross another thing off my birth plan. The pitocin drip was placed, and it was a gentle slow process that was monitored closely.

The pit was only turned up every 45-60 minutes by 1ml (out of 30) and only if my contractions were not picking up. I tried to rest between contractions and I was able to nap through some of the early ones, but by the time I reached 6ml, I was done. I was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. I don’t remember what time it was, but I think by that time I had been in labor 36+/- hours, and I was beat. I asked for an epidural and anesthesia was called while they pushed IV fluids. The contractions were in my hips, chest, back, and lower abdomen, and just felt unnatural. My doulas made sure I really wanted this, and let me know it was possible I was closer than I thought, but respected my wishes when I said I was done. They told me how proud they were of me for sticking it out so long. I had some “rock your world” contractions while waiting for my IV bag to empty, they called them double peak I think? I would have one long strong contraction, with a second, shorter one right immediately afterward. My nurse said it suggested a posterior baby, so while waiting on the anesthesiologist we did some exercises to try to rotate the baby. We had to pause the epidural process three times for contractions, but finally it went in and halfway into my 4th contraction, my feet went dead.

The pitocin was turned up while I rested, but the monitor kept losing the baby’s heart beat, and my contractions were not being picked up at all. When we got to 8ml, the OB and nurse noticed the baby’s heart was decelerating with each contraction. They placed an internal contraction monitor in to see if they were happening at the beginning or end of each contraction because I guess one was better than the other. The OB mentioned that I may need a cesarean because my placenta may be showing signs of stress at this point, but they were willing to watch and wait. The pitocin was turned off and my contractions stopped and so did the decels. They turned it back on to about 6ml and watched to see what part of my contractions caused the decels. About 3 contractions later it was determined that they were caused by cord compression and that I could continue to labor. Some of the decels scared Bobby though as they dropped down to about 45bpm for a few seconds. I was put on oxygen and they moved me from one side to another. From time to time my legs were moved to open up my hips to encourage baby to drop. Around 7am I was checked and only at about 7cm and a -2 station, but with each contraction I would open to about 9.5 with a thick lip, so she let me try some test pushes to see if I could move through the lip, but baby just would not move down enough and when I stopped pushing, baby would pop right back up. My OB then went off duty and her midwife took over. Finally, shortly before 9am on December 28th, 43 hours into labor and 26 hours after my water broke, the midwife decided we could try pushing again. By this time I could feel my legs and my contractions and I was ready to get my baby out.

NICU was on hand because of the meconium, and my doula and Bobby held my legs since I still didn’t have complete strength back. It took 1 or 2 contractions, with about 4-6 good pushes to get baby’s head out, it was cocked to one side, asynclitic they call it, and baby had a hand up next to its face. With the second contraction I got out baby’s shoulders and then I was told not to push while she cut the cord (it was wrapped around the neck and the abdomen) and she suctioned baby’s mouth and nose. Finally with one last push my baby was born at 9:07am. Before passing baby off to the respiratory therapist, she asked my husband “tell them what you see daddy” and Bobby announced we had a baby boy! This was part of my birth plan. Oh, and I was told when I could push, but no one counted or instructed me how to push, so my birth plan was somewhat followed in that aspect too.

Baby was suctioned and given to Daddy to hold and then handed to me.

I held him and said his name over and over again, “Jackson”, and I nursed him, but then I started shaking so bad that I handed him back to daddy and they did the newborn exam. He was 7lbs 3oz, the same that I was at birth, and 19″ long.

I called my mom to announce his birth and tell her we named him “Jackson Liam”, but got off the phone when my shaking got to be too much. It was around this time I noticed Bobby looking at the baby funny. I thought maybe he was disappointed we had a 4th boy, instead of a 2nd girl, but finally he said “he just does not look like a Jackson to me, he looks like a Liam”, and I had to agree, he DID look like a Liam.

[Liam with my amazing doula Sarah]

[Liam with my incredible doula Diksha]

Liam and I both had fevers, so it was decided that they would take blood samples and allow them to grow for 48 hours to make sure he didn’t have an infection. My water was broken for 26 hours and I declined antibiotics, so I decided not to fight the doctor’s orders. I got my first shower and Bobby brushed my hair for me and we discussed middle names while we were waiting on the Dr. to get back from lunch. We decided on Liam Michael, we liked how it sounded and I have an uncle and cousin and we have a good friend named Michael, and it just fit. After the blood draws, Bobby headed back home to relieve the babysitter and get some rest. Our fevers went down, and Liam got his first bath.

The next afternoon, Bobby brought the kids up to meet their brother, and it was love at first sight. Sophie was a bit standoffish with me, like she had been when dad first came home, but warmed up quick when she saw the baby. They each got to hold him, and then it was time for us to rest. I was released on the 30th, once his 48 hour culture came back negative.

Liam is 12 days old now. He’s doing well. He sleeps great during the day in his swing, our arms, or on our bed. Night is a different story, seems he only wants to sleep in my arms, while nursing, which is counterproductive to me sleeping. I love the age old question “Is he a good baby??” Sometimes I can resist the urge to say “well, he’s not paying for hookers or betting on the ponies, so he can’t be that bad”, usually though something smart slips out. We do seem to have some gas issues, which may be related to tongue-tie that I intend to talk to his pediatrician about this week when I see her. Other than that, he is gorgeous, and we adore him.

Sometimes birth is about letting go, and making compromises. As much as I didn’t want pitocin, or an epidural, even more so I didn’t want a cesarean. I wanted another home water birth, but I can only speculate that I would have been too tired and ended up transferring to the hospital and getting an OB I never met, who didn’t know my history and possibly was not as open minded about about my choices, or desires for a vaginal birth. As difficult as his birth was, it was also a healing birth. I learned that not all OBs are surgery happy, and some are very trusting of the birth process. I learned that having a good nurse and being in a good hospital can make all the difference in the world on what kind of outcome you can expect. And of course, your baby’s birth plan ALWAYS trumps your own birth plan, so expect the unexpected, and learn to roll with the punches and let go of expectations.

I want to mention how much I appreciated the support I received from my amazing husband, my wonderful doulas, my incredible RNs, my awesome OB & midwives, and everyone else who offered support, advice and encouragement. I love you all so much.