Poor Second Child

When I was pregnant with Sam, I blogged each week, posed my growing belly for pictures, and thought long and hard over each word I wrote for my son.

Second baby...

A terrible bathroom selfie with a hashtag #nopenottwins.

Sorry second baby. 

With Sam, this blog was so vibrant with prayers for my growing baby.

Second baby gets crickets.

But that doesn't mean we aren't over the moon that our family is growing. 

Baby boy Theodore, we are so excited to meet you. Truly. Even if my days are filled more with potty training your brother than daydreaming about my growing belly. Please don't take it personally. You are incredibly loved -- we are incredibly blessed. While I had lots of time to think about my first pregnancy, I hope it's ok that I'm spending more time making sure your brother doesn't accidentally punch you in utero.

21 weeks down, Teddy. See you in the fall!

2 Months

Happy 2 months little man!

Samuel Noel is officially the most handsome baby on the planet.

And then we spit up on our outfit.

At 2 months, Samuel:
- likes to smile, but sometimes you have to coax them out
- still loves to eat (we're almost 100% formula now so that we can keep up!)
- is learning how to suck on his fists
- loves his wrist rattles, his swing, and Freddie the firefly
- is probably the loudest baby in the world -- lots of grunts and coos
- is a champion sleeper just like his momma

A Breastfeeding Story

During my pregnancy, lots of people asked me if I was going to breastfeed. Friends, family, strangers at the grocery store. Seriously. I always smiled and said "I hope so."

I knew that breastfeeding could be difficult, and I knew not all women could breastfeed. But I thought about it the same way I approach most things. Pretty casually.

"Dum-de-dum, I hope to breastfeed, *shrug smile,* we'll see."

Before having Sam I thought I either could or I couldn't and it wouldn't bother me either way.

But when the nurse handed me my son, I knew that breastfeeding Sam was my top priority. I was going to fight to be able to give him that gift.

But I still didn't realize how difficult breastfeeding could be or was going to be for me.

My journey to breastfeed Sam has been the hardest thing I have ever done. Ever.

Nursing Sam the first time was so strange. Although it is the most natural thing I can do, it felt so unnatural. I was fighting a lie that breastfeeding was immodest. Those first few times I was concerned with being exposed and feeling vulnerable.

It's so funny thinking back on those feelings. Now, breastfeeding makes me feel so strong.

Sam was such a sleepy baby. We came home from the hospital with instructions to nurse skin-to-skin and pester him so he could wake up a bit to eat. During those first days, breastfeeding was an all-hands-on-deck operation. Our schedule included waking him up, undressing him, feeding a baby who'd rather be sleeping, supplementing him with formula and a syringe (he had lost 10% of his birth weight), getting him dressed again, and putting him back to sleep. Then it was time to do it again.

My milk came in a few days after coming home. I was given information on how to prevent engorgement but unfortunately didn't read it until it was too late. The pain of labor didn't even come close to the pain I went through during engorgement. My breasts were shiny red and rock hard. I could barely move.

What's funny is that since I have such small breasts, I never really think about them. I barely have to wear a bra (although I do, obviously). But all of a sudden, my breasts were the only things I was talking about and spent the first two weeks home with them hanging out.

During the most painful time of engorgement, all I could do was cry. Nurse Sam and cry. Every feeding session I cried out to Kyle and my mom and told them I couldn't do it. I wanted to quit. But I didn't.

Eventually the engorgement went away and the milk started flowing, but as much as I tried to exclusively breastfeed, there just wasn't enough. Sam was constantly hungry. He would cry and cry as I tried to nurse him every half hour. I wanted to quit so bad. But I didn't.

Then I got thrush and the pain was even worse. And I wanted to quit. But I didn't.

I talked to Sam's pediatrician about my pain (physical and emotional) and he suggested that I give myself a little break. He suggested we give Sam a bottle of formula and that I pump instead for a little while. Nurse when I could, take a break when I needed to.

He sucked down that first bottle like a champ. And then something happened that I had never seen before. Contentment after a feeding. He was happy and full. As much as my heart longed to breast feed him exclusively, I realized his full belly and growing body was what mattered most. I would need to quit nursing. But I didn't.

This whole time I was sick with guilt in having to make the decision to either keep breastfeeding or to give Sam formula. I wasn't sleeping. I was crying all the time.

And then something amazing happened. Sam and I fell into a beautiful rhythm. I am so thankful for how natural it was and that I didn't have to decide. I started nursing at the beginning of every feeding, getting as much breast milk into his little belly as possible. Then I would give him a bottle of formula until he was satisfied.

Now, 2 months after his birth, this is how I feed our son. I am able to nurse him and connect with him the way that I longed to. Kyle is able to feed him and feel that closeness. We are able to fill his belly and make him strong and happy.

I have never been more proud of myself. Not giving up on breastfeeding helps me see just how strong I can be. And although Sam won't remember these first months, I hope this experience shows the depth of my love.

I know that breastfeeding is a very sensitive and powerful subject, as it should be. I am sharing my story not to open myself up to criticism, but to help encourage others who are struggling. Breastfeeding is so different for every mommy and baby. This is our story and this is what works best for our family.

[Many people have suggested methods to increase my milk supply. I've tried multiple things but for various reasons I have decided to nurse Sam to the extent that I'm able and then give him formula. Feel free to contact me if you have questions/want to know more, but I trust that you understand I'm doing what's best for my son.]

I wanted to end with a few thoughts for those in the middle of their breastfeeding story or embarking on the journey soon:
- Feeding your baby in a loving way is your top priority. How you do it is a very personal and emotional decision. Whatever decision you make, rest in the fact that it's the best one for your baby.
- Your baby deserves a mommy who is present, physically, mentally and emotionally. If trying to exclusively breastfeed is keeping you from being present, explore other ways (but always talk to your baby's doctor first).
- Everyone kept telling me that breastfeeding gets easier after about 6 weeks. I wanted to scream at them. But they were right. Truly.
- If you believe strongly in breastfeeding, fight for it. I did, and even though it doesn't look the way I thought it would, it is the best thing I've ever done.
- If you need to cry out in anguish, cry out to God and ask for patience, strength, perseverance, wisdom, and grace. And not just in breastfeeding. In parenting, too.
- If you do bottle feed (pumped breast milk or formula), try to do skin-to-skin when you can, connect with your baby through eye contact, talk to him, take it seriously, do it lovingly.
- Seek out support. I called people out of the blue, asked questions of their experience, even emailed a picture of my boob to a friend when I thought I might have mastitis. Feeding our babes is a big deal. Talk about it as such.

The Story of Samuel: On the Other Side

“The Lord came and stood there, calling as at the other times, 'Samuel, Samuel!' 
Then Samuel said, 'Speak, for your servant is listening.'” 1 Samuel 3:10

We made it to the other side. Through the pregnancy, the birth, the recovery, the first couple nights, the tears of exhaustion, the anguish of breastfeeding, the first really scary diapers, the first baby smiles.

Samuel and I didn't quite get off on the right foot, and I don't feel that we connected very well at the beginning. Because of the stress of recovery, challenges with breastfeeding, and my experience with postpartum depression, I don't feel like I really bonded with Sam right away. I loved him, but during those early days, it was more because I was supposed to. Because that's the way it was supposed to happen.

Maybe I shouldn't admit that. I still feel a lot sadness and guilt saying that, but that really was my experience.

Looking back now, as we approach 2 months with our little man, those feeling seem so distant. The sleepless nights, all the tears I shed, and the doubts I had about our decision to have a child seem so foreign.

I can't imagine my life without Sam. The love I have for my son is indescribable. I am overwhelmed with joy when I think about being a mother. About being his mother.

I am made more complete because of him.

As we drove away from the hospital after having Sam, I thought that I would never be able to do that again. I have always wanted a big(ish) family, but I was sure my son would be an only child.

Last weekend though, I think I've come around to the idea that I can do it again, that I want to, and that it's absolutely, powerfully, wonderfully worth it.  

Read the previous chapters of our story:

part 1

part 2

part 3

The Story of Samuel: The Road to Recovery

“There is no one holy like the Lord; 

there is no one besides you; 

there is no rock like our God.” 1 Samuel 2:2

I had prepared myself for labor. We took the class. I knew how to breath. I had my birth plan, but I was willing to throw it out if we needed to. I was going to do whatever I had to in order to keep Samuel and myself safe and healthy.

I was not prepared for what came next, however. The recovery.

Shortly after my epidurals and wet tap, I was told that there was a chance I could get a spinal headache. The headache hit me as soon as I was seated in the wheel chair. It felt like my head was pulsing and throbbing with pain. The lights were all of a sudden severely bright. I held my head in one hand while I gripped my son in the other, so afraid the pain would cause me to let him slip.

That night was the longest, most painful night of my life. I had an episiotomy with a second degree cut. Certainly not the worst, but I was still in pain. And I'm not very good at dealing with pain. I had never had stitches before – what an introduction. The headache was minimal when I was lying flat in bed, but the pain was so bad when I stood to go to the restroom that I just cried.

My heart still aches for that first night. I still have a lot of guilt. I was supposed to feel so much joy for our new son, but I was so focused on myself and what I was feeling, the pain, the exhaustion. The hospital promotes rooming in with your newborn, but I couldn't that first night. I had to send him to the nursery.

Still lying flat to get some relief, the next day was a whirlwind. A flurry of people in and out of the room, asking questions, taking blood, giving me medication. The stress of the activity in that tiny little room was almost too much.

I have no idea when I nursed Sam for the first time. I didn't really know when I was supposed to and no one came to help me. I tried and tried to nurse him that first day, but he wouldn't latch on, wouldn't wake up. Later in the day lactation finally came to my room. I explained that I was having such difficulty figuring out how to feed Sam. I really didn't know what to do. He wasn't really eating. They asked if we were supplementing him. I had no idea if we should be or what that really meant. I was so unprepared for this part of the experience and I am still a little frustrated with the lack of support in those first crucial hours.

In the afternoon, an anesthesiologist came to discuss my headache. There were some other short-term treatments that could help reduce the symptoms, but the only real solution was a blood patch. The thought of having another epidural procedure was overwhelming, but because of the pain, I was not able to be a mom to Sam. I was so scared for the procedure, but I knew it needed to be done.

The relief was instant. Kyle was there holding my hand, helping me sip a Coke (caffeine helps the headache). The fog I had been under had been lifted.

Nursing started to go a little bit better. I felt like I had a better understanding of how to feed Sam and keep him awake. The visitors slowed down a bit. I was settling in to what our life looked like now, preparing to go home as a new family.

In hindsight, I should have taken a shower immediately. I should have washed my hair, changed clothes, and forced myself to walk around a bit. Once the headache was gone, I think my attitude and fear of the pain kept me in bed longer than I should have been. I brought makeup with me but didn't use it. I should have. It would have gone a long way in helping me feel human again.

The time I spent in the hospital was not at all as I expected. But I think I have a greater sense of what I want and need for the next time. I need to be a better advocate for myself, asking questions, demanding support. I want to nurse our next babe right away. I will wear my gown so it opens in the front during delivery so I can be skin-to-skin with him or her the second we're together. I will do what I need to to be able to keep our baby in the room with us the first night. I will grin and bear the pain, knowing that I'll be just fine. I'll shower and put on some yoga pants and worry about what's going on down there later.

We didn't think Sam would join us as early as he did, so we didn't have the car seat installed. But we did have enough sense to bring it with us. While Kyle figured that out, my mom and I packed up our bags, got Sam dressed, and prepared to bring him home.

That car ride home was surreal. It felt like a dream. A beautiful yet confusing dream. The ultimate culmination of our prayers, yet an experience we were completely and utterly unprepared for. There were no more nurses. No more call buttons on the side of the bed. Just us, left to all this new-ness.

As I said in the first part of the story, I have never felt God's presence in my life more than during this last year. That didn't change when we left the hospital. It hasn't changed since. He has been preparing our hearts for parenthood, and although we were scared, he was confident. He made Samuel just for us. And in our fear and anxiety and exhaustion, this was the truth we relied on. This is the truth I reflect on every day.

Read part 1 here.

And part 2 here.

The Story of Samuel: A Labor of Love

Part 2: “I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.” 1 Samuel 1:28

I woke up Friday morning (October 12) feeling a bit odd. I had a doctor's appointment that afternoon and I kept thinking to myself, "wouldn't it be funny if the doctor checked me out and told me I was having a baby, like, today."

Well she did and I wasn't. I was still dialated 1cm. I asked if that meant anything regarding the timing of the baby and she said, "well, you could have a baby in three weeks, or you could have a baby tomorrow."

The rest of the day went by, and I continued to feel a little different. Around 2am, I went to the bathroom and, well, things were a little different. About 10 panty liners and 3 pairs of underpants later,  I woke up Kyle around 5am and told him that I wasn't sure if my water broke, but something was definitely going on.

I called the after-hours nurse at my OB and explained the situation. I wasn't ruining the hardwood floors or anything, but gosh, something was happening.

She told me to pack it up and head to the hospital.

A quick stop in triage and it was confirmed, we were having a baby today!

My water had broken, but I was barely dilated and not having any noticeable contractions. After seeing what my body was going to do, we were told to walk. Kyle and I, along with a pole and my IV bag, walked for an hour. We must have passed the same pictures 100 times. Kyle also told me a few times he was bored. I scolded him and said that he was never allowed to say that again.

But alas, walking forever produced little results. I was not progressing very well so out came the pitocin. As the dose went up and up, the contractions got stronger and more painful.

Now this is where I made a huge mistake. Early on I was asked, on a scale of 1 to 10, what was my pain level. The nurse then proceeded to joke that 10 was having your "arm ripped off." Well goodness, I don't think labor pains would ever be like that, so even though I was starting to feel some strong pains, I only said 3. Every time I was asked to rate my pain (which was about a million times) I used the "arm being ripped off" test, but doing so, I think I really underestimated my pain. Even during my most severe contractions, I only said a 6. A 6?! Always say an 8!

I knew all along that I wanted an epidural, but I really struggled about when I should ask for one. In hindsight, I waited too long. By the time the anesthesiologist was getting ready to give me the drugs, I was in such terrible pain. Definitely a 12. Still only said a 6.

Sitting crossed-legged on the bed, I gripped Kyle and the nurse's hands while the anesthesiologist put in the epidural between contractions. She numbed me and then I waited and waited for her to tell me that it was all done. But unfortunately it wasn't that easy. The first epidural resulted in a wet tap (the epidural needle was inserted too far) and I had to have a second.

For some reason, even after the second epidural was inserted (correctly this time), things still weren't quite right. To test the effectiveness of the epidural, I was pumped with really strong medicine and then given the alcohol swab and safety pin test. Basically I was to tell the doctor at what point I could feel that the alcohol was cold or the pin was sharp -- this was used to see how high up the medicine was making me numb. At my most medicated, I couldn't move anything below my neck. Not something I would like to feel again anytime soon.

Once the medicine was flowing, Kyle and I had fun watching the monitors and laughing at the contractions, none of which I could feel at that point.

About an hour passed, doctors coming in to regulate my medicine frequently. We had a little scare with a drop in my blood pressure, but they got that back on track.

Finally, after driving 8 hours from Ohio and Pennsylvania, our parents arrived at the hospital. I had spent the last month preparing myself for the fact that my mom probably wouldn't make it to the birth and trying to be ok with that. But here she was! Kyle's parents arrived around the same time.

Right after our parents arrived, the nurse checked things out and said "it's time, there's his head, it's time to push!"

At this point, my right side was completely, I-can't-move-my-leg numb. We started some preliminary pushes and my mom had to hold my leg since I had no control over it. She said it was like holding up a tree trunk.

I pushed and pushed and the nurse finally convinced me to look in the mirror. It was a heck of a motivator. Seeing that little head, my little boy so close to being in my arms.

Kyle must have told me I was doing "awesome" about a million times. He was so sweet and supportive and I could just see a sense of awe in his eyes. We were experiencing a miracle. Kyle is one of the most squeamish people I know, yet he was the one that did awesome. He witnessed everything, from the delivery to the stitches, and even cut the umbilical cord.

I have never been more focused in my life. I didn't talk, I just pushed. I pushed three times during each contraction and then once more just because I could. I wanted to meet my son so badly.

Although I was still very numb, I had a pretty severe pain by my right hip. A baby shoulder, a leg, who knows. But once our little man made his debut it's like all the pain in the world just rushed out of me.

He was here! Samuel Noel was here! I have never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

6 lbs 9 ounces, 21 inches long. 10 fingers, 10 toes. A button nose. Loved, oh so loved.

Read part 1 here.

The Story of Samuel: Answered Prayers

"So in the course of time Hannah became pregnant and gave birth to a son. 

She named him Samuel, saying, ' Because I asked the Lord for him.'"

1 Samuel: 1:20

In order to tell you the story of my son, I need to take you back to the beginning.

I think I started dreaming about having a baby before Kyle did. Every baby I saw made my heart just ache to start a family. Kyle was much more focused on getting things in our life together first, oh you know, like him graduating and finding a job and knowing where we'll be in a year.

Important things like that.

But the more we talked about babies, the more we realized that if we waited for the perfect time it may never come.

found here, original source unknown

So last September we just decided to trust that the Lord knew what was best for our family. I can't say we were really trying to get pregnant, but we stopped trying not to.

I thought getting pregnant would be easy. And fast. But you know, it really wasn't.

Let's just say that I shed lots of tears in the tampon aisle. 

Christmas Eve of last year was the earliest I could take a pregnancy test that month and I really wanted to see those lines. What could be a sweeter gift? I prayed and prayed, but they didn't show up.

Christmas wasn't the holiday for getting a baby. You know what holiday was? President's Day.

February 20 I woke up feeling kind of funny. I was a few days late but trying to be super realistic and not get my hopes up. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was different. I was getting together that night with friends and stopped at the store to buy a pregnancy test beforehand. I was talking with them about how I was feeling and a friend told me to take a test as soon as I got home. I told her I had them in my purse and she pointed me to the bathroom. 

Those few minutes were the longest minutes of my life. 

I am so glad I got to share that moment with some of my closet friends. They had to drive me home because I was too excited/in shock to drive myself. 

And of course Kyle was overjoyed when I told him. Our prayers were answered.

***

This first part of this story should really be titled, "the story of God's incredible provision and plan," for I've never felt God's hand upon my life in a more powerful way than I did during this time in my life.

If it were up to us, we would have gotten pregnant right away and then had a baby before Kyle had a job or we had a house. We would have been moving with an infant. It would have been much more of a whirlwind than the moderately smooth transition we were blessed with.

I could only see just a few feet in front of me. The longing I had for a baby on my timeline. Luckily our Lord see everything, the big picture, and gives us what we need when we need it. And not a second sooner.

1 Month

Happy 1 month birthday to my little man Sam.

It's been one heck of a month. I've loved watching you grow and learn and eat us out of house and home! I love you buddy and can't wait for all our months to come.

A Room of His Own

Sam's nursery was a definite labor of love. I wanted to create a space that was bright and cheery, comfortable and cozy. Now that our little boy is here, sitting with him in the nursery is a dream come true.

The couch wasn't part of the initial design, but I found that this love seat (originally in our sunroom) was the perfect spot to nurse so we moved it in. Also, Jupiter loves the nursery and I'm pretty sure she loves Sam!

When the sun is shining in, the cat sitting next to us, baby Sam in my arms. It's perfection.

Details:
dinosaur prints from Niko and Lilly
stegosaurus wall hanging from Slippin' Southern
"do small things" print from Pen and Paint
book (art) ledges, book case, silver frames, and silver rail (over the changing table) from Ikea
cross stitch patterns from Charlotte Alexander, stitched by me
mini wooden dinosaur toys from Banished
curtains made by me
quilt (my absolute favorite part of the room, besides it's sweet owner) made by a dear friend

The Last Few Days

These last few days have been a whirlwind. A flurry of feedings and dirty diapers.

For nine months, I tried to prepare my heart and mind the best I could.

Yet I've found that I was so very unprepared for life with a newborn.

But we're figuring it out, slowly. My new little family.

These last few days have been some of the hardest days of my life. There have been lots of tears -- more from me than from Samuel, I think. I was not prepared for such a rigid feeding schedule. It takes an hour from start to finish to feed Sam, and by the time I get him settled it's time to do it again.

Breastfeeding has been proven to be the hardest part of this experience -- harder than the labor and delivery, harder than the late nights and adjusting to a new schedule. I feel like I've already had ever problem in the book, and every night I tell Kyle that I want to quit.

But the last few days have also been dripping (pun intended) with joy and excitement. Of little celebrations and milestones. Of getting a little bit more comfortable with my tiny, squirming man.

Oh Samuel Noel, I'm still not real sure how to be a mom, but I'm sure that I love you and that my love will grow and grow as you do. So excited for our life together.

38 Weeks

last photo of Baby D right before going to the hospital

Today was supposed to be the 38th week with my baby belly, but instead it was day 3 with my little man!

Meet Samuel Noel Denlinger. Born at 8:43pm on October 13! 6lbs 9 oz, 21 inches. And he has feet like skis!

I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord. 

1 Samuel 1:27-28

It's going to be a little slow around here -- updates, nursery, and birth story coming soon.