Determination

Any time I tried to lose weight before I would give up at the first signs that I was beginning to slip. Not this time.

I'm not going to lie, I haven't been to the gym in almost a week.

I haven't been watching my portion sizes at all, though I have stuck with healthy eating with the exception of a sickening amount of orange juice this weekend.

My sleep schedule is all out of whack and it is making everything else difficult to keep on track.

But, I am about to refocus.

So, it is time to look for some new workout music, cut out most carbs that aren't fruit, which greatly slow down my weight loss and lower my energy, regulate my sleep schedule and get back in the gym.

Bring it!

I'm still here.

Okay, there are no excuses for going so long without an update. I just haven't felt compelled to write, and that is the truth. I have been focusing my energies on other projects right now. The biggest of which is completely overhauling the whole family's health. Not an easy task.

So, I guess if you really want an update from me you are stuck listening to my healthy living babble. You have been warned.

I guess a good place to start would be my motivation for making such a drastic change in our lifestyle. Well, it boils down to three things: my family history of breast cancer, my desire to be able to do more together as a family and the feeling that I am a skinny girl trapped in a fat girl's body. Yup, that about sums it up.

So, in true Abby fashion, I decided to take on everything at once. I quit smoking, quit drinking pop, cut processed foods down to 5-10% of my diet and started exercising 5-6 days a week. The first week was a little overwhelming, but honestly, I felt it was easier to do everything at once rather than to prolong the torture by starting a new torture just as one was finishing. Plus, there is the strong desire I have to lose at least 30 lbs by Christmas. That doesn't leave much time for slow and steady.

So, I am roughly 3 weeks in and 7 lbs lighter according to our home scale. Mind you, I have been exercising vigorously, so I may have lost more fat than that, but also gained muscle so the scale is only reflecting a 7 lb loss. Either way, I am happy with my progress thus far. I still need to work out some kinks, but I am happy with how I am feeling.

How am I feeling you ask? FANTASTIC! I have energy for the first time in years, and for the first time in my life I am on a normal sleep schedule! Yea, I'm not nocturnal anymore!

So, as of right now I am working out 90 minutes a day 6 days a week. I sat down with a trainer at my gym and hatched out a workout plan. My plan includes 3 days of heavy (90 min) cardio and core weight training (abs, obliques and lower back) 2 days of light cardio (30-45 min) with one day dedicated to upper body (arms and shoulder) and the other day dedicated to lower body (legs, duh!) the last day is spent doing just light cardio (30-45 min) unless I feel the need to do more cardio, but no weights on that last day. Those 90 min cardio days are quickly becoming my nemesis. I have to convince myself to keep going every 5 minutes through the entire 90 minutes. I know it will get easier, but right now my muscles are in terrible shape, but my heart -- thanks to my recent pregnancy -- is in great shape apparently so my muscles have a hard time working hard enough to raise my heart rate to the cardio rate which is where I am supposed to be at for my whole workout except for the first and last 5 minutes. Yea, if you followed any of that, basically, by muscles get tired before my heart even gets started.

As for my eating. I am still working on that. I am eating healthy foods, I'm just not doing well at getting on a schedule and regulating how much of the healthy foods I eat. I am going to keep working on it though. I'll get the hang of it eventually. I think the important part is what I put in my body, the when is just fine tuning.

So, that is what I am up to right now. Basically.

Kid-Free Days

Ava and Alice head to their grandma's house for a few days later today. Adrian and I couldn't be more excited. We love our daughters, but we also love each other, and desperately need time alone. Besides for spending time being a lovey-dovey couple over the next few days, there is a whole list of things I want to get done.

• Swap bedrooms with the girls- Alice sleeps through the night now, so it is time for her to share a room with her sister. Our bedroom is bigger than Ava's current bedroom, and we simply don't need the space as much as the girls, so we are moving into Ava's room and the girls are moving into ours. Alice will sleep in the closet for now until I feel confident that Ava won't try and climb into her crib for a snuggle in the middle of the night.
• Finish Alice's quilt and Ava's new quilt- These two projects have sat partially completed since before Alice was born, so I think it high time I complete them. Alice's quilt needs to be quilted and bound. Ava's quilt needs the squares sewn together, quilted and bound. That should be more than enough to keep me busy for the next few days.
• Clean out the storage closet- That closet is a WRECK. Everything that doesn't have a home, but that we aren't sure if we can part with ends up in that closet. It is unorganized and just heaped in there. With the girls gone I can empty the closet completely, purge what we don't want/need and then put it all back in a more organized fashion.
• Laundry, laundry and more laundry- Some of the laundry is being done as I type this because the girls need clean clothes to pack, but much of it will be done while they are gone. I need to go through our clothes, purge what can't be salvaged, wash what we plan to sell to Once-Upon-a-Child and wash everything that isn't being thrown out. Bedding also needs to be washed. That reminds me, I need to get an extra bedsheet for the air mattress we will be purchasing next week for Mike and Lindsay's visit.
• Rearrange furniture- I really want to change the layout of the livingroom. With the girls moving into our room, there will be enough room for all toys to stay in their room, which will free up a good amount of space in the livingroom. Amen!
• Decorate the girls' room- I held of on decorating because I knew they would end up in our room. So, once they are in here, I can finally put some stuff up on the walls and such. Yay!

If I remember I will take photos of all the happenings in the Short household. Chances are I will forget, though.

Order

I thrive on order. I thrive on having a schedule, a budget, a clean organized house and a plan for maintaining said house.

I need to know what's going on, when it's going on and why it's going on. I shut down in the face of chaos.

So, our lives for the past year or so have been chaos. I mean, seriously. We decide to get married. We find out I am pregnant. I am planning a wedding during my first (read: extremely exhausted) trimester. Then, Halloween, Ava's Birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Adrian's Birthday, My Birthday, Alice's born. Doesn't it make you tired just reading it. And those are just the calendar-worthy events. That doesn't include things like endless doctor's appointments, visits from and to family, work, running errands, etc. etc.

So, now that Alice is 3 months, and therefore starting to settle into a bit of a routine (i.e. sleeping through the night), I can finally start to restore order in our lives. Perfecting timing too because Adrian's mom is going to take the girls (both, bless her heart!) for a couple days starting Wednesday. Oh boy do I have a list of projects to tackle.

Paint the bedrooms and livingroom (and possibly the bathroom)
Clean, organize, purse the closests
Swap rooms with the girls and possibly find Alice a crib (we have a few weeks to a month before she NEEDS one)
Finish Alice's quilt
Get every single article of laundry washed, including bedding
Spend some time working on craft endeavors, possibly thrift shopping (it's good for my soul)

But, before I dive into all THOSE tasks, I am starting to work on the first step to restoring order right now. I am working on getting my sleep schedule straightened out.

I have always been nocturnal and it is very hard for me to stay on a normal sleep schedule, but I really need to give it my best. I want my day to look something like this.

7am Wake up, eat breakfast, spend time reading Bible/praying for loved ones, write daily articles
10-11am Girls get up, I slip into shower and get ready before Adrian goes to work, or take Adrian to work, give Ava breakfast and a movie while I take a shower with Alice in the bathroom with me
12pm Start cleaning the house with the girls' 'help' -- each day is assigned a zone that is to be deep cleaned, the rest of the house gets the once over (pick up toys, laundry, wash dishes)
1-2pm Alice goes down for a nap and an hour later Ava goes down (mama gets quiet time!)
2-3pm Alice wakes up feed her, entertain her, spend general mama/Alice one-on-one time
4-5pm Release Ava from her nap (she most likely won't have slept at this point, but I think it is important to at least give her quiet time to rest/spend time with herself) Give Ava something to eat
6pm trip to the park/walk, in the summer we can go to the park, in the winter, a brisk walk so we stay warm is probably best. The point is daily exercise, fresh hair and wearing Ava, and eventually Alice, out for bed.
7pm DINNER!
9-10pm Baths, stories, bed for both girls
9 or 10-12am Quiet together time for mom and dad and LIGHTS OUT!

Now. obviously Alice takes more than one nap, and we can't always stick to an hour by hour regimented schedule. The point is to have some sort of loose routine so that I have the order I need, and Ava, our exuberant child, knows what to expect from day to day.

So, here I am, at 6:30am (I woke up a little early today) having some me-time before 7am rolls around and it is time to kick off my day with some Jesus and writing.

I really hope I can make this work!

Breastfeeding, Bottle Feeding and the In Between

Usually when it comes to breast vs. bottle all mothers are on one side or the other, right? At least it seems that way. I mean, when the doctors ask you about how you plan to provide nourishment to your child they ask if you plan to breast or bottle feed. I don't recall ever being asked if I plan to do a little of both.

So, what do you do when you find yourself in that middle space. I mean, of course I planned to exclusively breastfeed, but didn't get myself so worked up about it as to avoid going through the emotional strain I went through with Ava when it didn't work. I wasn't going to set myself up for that again. I decided instead to set my mind to giving breastfeeding my all, but also giving myself the space to be okay with bottle feeding should it come to that. Which, it sorta quickly did.

Now, when I say sorta, I mean that we had to supplement before we even left the hospital. Alice, just like her sister, tore me up. I was in so much pain I could bare to let her latch. So, I gave myself a break and gave her a bottle. I started pumping as soon as I got home so as not to compromise my milk supply. For the first couple of weeks I would go back and forth between latching her and pumping because the pain would become too much for me to bare, and that made me not want to let her latch -- not good when you have a growing infant.

Eventually the pain lessened and I was able to breastfeed her for a majority of her feedings, but she still needed some supplementing. Her feeding wasn't at all regular, which was messing with my milk supply. Some feedings she would only eat a little, and some she would be so ravenously hungry that she would drink all I had and then have 2oz of a bottle after that.

Then, life got in the way. I have to work. I don't have the option of not working, unless I want to live off Ramen noodles, and maybe take up residence in a cardboard box. I kid, I kid -- kinda.

So, what is a mother to do when her nursing babe is a lazy eater who basically needs to be at the breast all day long, and she needs to work? So, the bottle feedings would start to take over. Then, I would feel guilty, not because it was hurting Alice, not because I was worried I was doing her harm, but because I was concerned about what others would think. I went through that with Ava, and to be honest, it almost hurt more than what my own mind put me through. So, as the guilt increased, I would increase her nursing and decrease her bottle feedings. It went back and forth like this for a good month.

Lately Alice has been getting mostly bottle. There. I said it. Honestly, it has allowed me to get sleep, get work done and spend some time with Ava. All of which I wasn't getting much of while having her hooked to me 24 hours a day. All of which I need to survive.

But, now Alice has decided that she doesn't want to accept a bottle anymore. And so, I am popping the Fenugreek like candy, drinking water like I live in the desert and will have my little 24-hour bosom buddy back.

When the doctors, or midwives as the case was for me, ask if you plan to breast feed, when they begin talking about all the benefits of breastfeeding, how many are honest about the sacrifice?

Here's my thing: it is my. body.

I would NEVER fault another woman for bottle feeding, not even if she didn't even try to breastfeed. You know why? Because I would never tell another woman what to do with HER body.

We carry these sweet little babes in our bodies for almost a year. We watch what we eat, we fret about the smallest little fall, we give up nights of sleep due to heartburn or sore hips, the list goes on and on. Then, THEN, we give birth! Yea, that's right, we push 'em out, or endure major surgery if necessary to bring the sweeties into the world. And after all that, there is no way I am going to tell a woman she needs offer up her body for another YEAR (the recommended minimum amount of time to breastfeed) to feed her baby. No way am I laying a guilt trip on any new mom should she choose the bottle.

For now I am happy with a balance somewhere between breastfeeding and bottle feeding. I am content snuggling with Alice in bed when I nurse her, and I am at peace being able to get some work done while Adrian gives her a bottle.

The issue isn't so black and white when you don't have the luxury of foregoing all other activities to be at your child's beckon call, which I assume is the case more often than many realize.

Some mother/baby pairs can make it work even when Mama has other stuff that has to get done, others can't. It really depends on the baby. Alice likes to take her sweet time. If she were the type to get down to business, eat until she was full, burp and hang out or sleep, all would be good. But, she likes to snack, chat a little, maybe burp, snack some more, chat some more, and so on. I love her, but I also love the roof over our head, so sometimes she has to chat it up with her father between snacks.

All this to say that I really wish more people would acknowledge the gray area for the sake of all new mothers. I had one single healthcare professional tell me that I just need to find the right balance between breastfeeding and formula feeding that would work for me when I mentioned supplementing. All the rest gave me the standard guilt trip.

We mothers experience enough guilt without outside help.

So sweet. Not so sexy.

While browsing around the internet for shorts for Ava I came across something that totally threw me for a loop: little girls cutoff denim shorts WITH POCKET LININGS HANGING OUT THE BOTTOM OF THE LEG! Oh, and it doesn't stop there, oh no. The pocket linings were embellished with sequins. You know, in case anyone fails to notice that there are pocket linings hanging out of the bottom of your little girls' shorts with the first glance! Ugh!

These shorts can go right into the pile of unacceptable along with the behind-bedazzled jeans, padded triangle bikinis and the priceless princess shirt I saw at the store. The one that had the body on the shirt with the neck running up to the neck hole, so it looked like your daughter was the character on the shirt. So, what's the big deal, right? Well, the princess had cleavage. Yes, that's right, the shirt would give your daughter BOOBS!

Can we please, for all the sweetness in the world, let our little girls be little girls. Let them enjoy twirling in puffy dresses, dreaming of being a princess (sans chesticles), admiring the simple beauty of flowers and butterflies and whipping up the occasional plastic meal in their play kitchens!

I hope for Ava and Alice's sake they never try to fight me in a store's fittingroom over a pair of jeans I deem too tight or a skirt too short. They will not win. Not because I am a mean mommy or particularly enjoy confrontations with my daughters. No, they stand no hope of winning such an argument because I love them too much to let them grow up too fast.

My daughters will grow up with a sense of self respect. They will know that a boy or man that treats them any less wonderfully than their father just will not due, so dressing in a manner that attracts less is unacceptable. They will know that there is more power in modesty than in over-sharing.

I know I had my days of wearing the shortest skirt possible, squeezing into jeans that cut off my circulation and donning tops so low cut they left nothing to the imagination. But, in all honesty, I regret allowing myself to ever dress that way. Those skimpy outfits did their job; they garnered attention. But, all that attention came at a hefty price. I lived in a haze of wondering which boys in my life liked me for my personality, and which liked me simply because of how I presented myself.

Most females want to feel sexy. Letting it all hang out, however, isn't the way to harness that strong feminine power.

All this to say, if we start our little girls down the road of short shorts and tight tops at the ripe ole' size of 5T, does she really ever have a chance at learning that a knee length pencil skirt and cardigan sweater do much more for her feminine charm by the time she is old enough to dress in an attractive manner?

I love watching Ava's face light up when she puts on her newest dress. A dress that reaches her knees and comes up to her collar bones. She smooths her hands over the material. She twirls in delicate circles. She tells us over and over again that it's, "So pretty!" And that is exactly how I want her to feel. So pretty, along with so smart, so capable, so caring, so tough, so sweet. Not so sexy.

Ding

The title of this post expresses exactly how quickly after hitting "Publish Post" on my last post I came to a startling realization.

Warning: I'm about to get all religious, so if you don't want to here click away now.

Okay, here is a verse that Adrian paraphrased for me a week ago when I was telling him how all I could think about when trying to figure out how we would manage going back to school was all the roadblocks in our way.

Dear friends, you always followed my instructions when I was with you. And now that I am away, it is even more important. Work hard to show the results of your salvation, obeying God with deep reverence and fear. For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases Him.
                                                                                                                                 Philippians 2:12-13


And here it is again.

Now may the God of peace--
who brought up from the dead our Lord Jesus,
the great Shepherd of the sheep, 
and ratified an eternal covenant with His blood--
may He equip you with all you need
for doing His will.
May He produce in you,
through the power of Jesus Christ,
every good thing that is pleasing to Him.
All the glory to Him forever and ever! Amen.


Hebrews 13:20-21


So, in short, the message is that when God fills your heart with a desire he also provides you with a way to realize that desire. Remember, we are talking about God-given desires, not human whims.

Now, all this time I have been looking into different degrees and programs in my quest to go back to school I have been going about this the human way. Don't get me wrong, I pray regularly for God to show me a way to go back to school, to finish school, to provide a better life for my family. But silly me has, at the same time, been looking for a degree that is very secure. I have been looking for a degree with a good job outlook, one with a decent average yearly income. A degree I can complete quickly. So, I am asking God to make it possible, but not asking to show me what I am supposed to be doing.

Doh!

It became quite obvious to me immediately after publishing that last post that this whole time God has been screaming at me, "Abby, listen to the desire I placed in your heart! Use the talents I gave you!"

I hear You now!

All this time I spent looking at different degree programs and courses, ignoring the burning desire I felt to blog, vlog, craft, write and just create in general was a complete and utter waste of time! Do you know the one arena I don't feel fear in? The one arena that I have no problem jumping into without a plan? Yea, that would be crafting. Every other arena I feel the need to plan to death, but for some reason, a reason that is clear to me now, when it comes to crafting I don't need a plan. I don't think, I just do. That, to me, is the difference between working with your God-given talent and working with skills acquired over time. God-given talent flows and puts you in a place where you feel warm and protected. Acquired skills are mechanical and always leave you with just a slight vulnerability.

So, I am listening to that desire so deeply rooted in my being. Once I came to this realization school plans flowed, classes became appealing and a plan unveiled itself. The desires to write, film, photo and create all came together to make sense. FINALLY!

I am going to take classes at the community college with no definite plan for a 4-year degree, but no definite plan to stop after WCC. I will get a degree in both Internet Professional (website design basically) and Graphic Design. I will also take classes outside of the requirements for those degrees to help achieve this vision I have. I will take a grammar and usage class to brush up on my writing skills, a couple journalism classes, a class on journaling (basically how to tell my story in a compelling manner), photography courses, web analytics and maybe even a digital film course.

Do you see how this is all going to come together?! Are you pumped?! I am pumped!

I want to use the graphic design knowledge to design digital scrapbook kits and perhaps a logo or two. The website design is obvious. I want to be completely in charge of the look of all my blogs. Photography and writing courses will help me write clear content with gorgeous photos to accompany the content. Web analytics draws people into my little corner of the net.

Oh my gosh I am so excited!

But the education will not stop there. I also want to take some sewing/crafting classes at JoAnns so that I stay at the top of my creative game.

Sometimes I have to remember that all my planning doesn't leave much room for His plan -- the most important plan. And all that worry over job outlook and annual income, well, God's plan doesn't need a backup either.

In lighter, and highly entertaining (at leas to me) news, I married a walking bible quote index. Adrian can totally pop off with a bible quote for any occasion, and I think that is just plain SEXY!

Career Woes

I never considered myself a career-oriented person. Still don't. Not even remotely.

But, I do think it important for me to have some kind of degree to at least fall back on. You know, in case something were to happen to Adrian and I was left to take care of the girls. So, I am looking into going back to school. Yikes!

I am having a minor panic attack about the whole thing. First I thought about studying computers. You know, networking and such. Jobs in that field start around 50-60k, definitely enough to support me and the two girls should I ever have to. But here is the thing. Programming? Blah! Circuit boards? Blah! Databases? What are those?

Then, I thought I'd go into accounting. I loved my high school accounting course. We were allowed to work at our own pace, and so I was usually 3-4 chapters ahead of the teacher's lectures. Then I took Accounting II, which was all on computers as opposed to the first class which was all old-school pencil and paper. I was not a fan of doing the books on the computer. AT. ALL. But, I thought perhaps the fondness I had for crunching those numbers in my first accounting class might be rekindled, and I could learn to enjoy doing it on the computer. I was all excited because EMU has a combined Bachelor's/Master's program that I could complete in roughly 4 years or less. Perfect! I'll be ready to join the work force just as the girls are starting school.

And then I looked at the business pre-requisites just to apply to the business school. More than half of them made me want to throw up in my mouth. And so here I sit feeling much like I did when I was a student at U of M -- completely lost.

See, there is a reason that I constantly find myself adrift when I try to figure out a degree I actually want to obtain that is likely to land me a career worth getting a degree for -- I just don't care about having a "career." I don't care about climbing the ladder. I don't care about a corner office, winning at office politics, being the best at anything. All I really want to do is help support my family, feel proud of the work I do and enjoy the work I do.

So, what kind of work would I enjoy? Oh, you know, the creative type. The type that is the hardest to get. The type that requires you to throw your emotionally fragile self out on a limb. The type that you don't really NEED a degree to obtain, though a degree might get you taken more seriously.

Here is what I see when I envision my perfect "career":

Blog(s) completely run by moi from design, to content, to photos and even video. I literally have a full list of different blogs I would LOVE to start. A craft blog, a family blog, a cooking/baking blog, a thrift store design blog, etc. etc. etc. If I could stay at home and spend my days running 3-5 blogs filled with gorgeous pictures, compelling copy and inviting web design. But my dream doesn't stop there. I also want to sell my crafty goods. I want to sell repurposed thrift store finds, homemade children's clothing and toys, home decor items, etc. etc. I want my days to be filled with colorful inspiration. Now, if you can just point me in the direction of the nearest university that offers a degree in all that, a degree with a decent job outlook, then I will be all set.

Yea, that is what I thought.

I know that I am going to take some photography, web design, web journalism and web analytics classes at the local community college, but that still leaves me without a degree. And an associates isn't enough to put my mom-mind at ease. An associates degree today is like a high school diploma was 30 years ago.

What to do...what to do...

A Quickie on Sisterly Love

Ava was laying with Alice in her crib when she started to lift up her shirt. I couldn't for the life of my figure out what she was doing...until she started to try and pull her sister in close to her as she lifted her shirt. I'm not sure how you explain that only Mama can nurse Alice to a 2 year old. I have to admit, it made me laugh once I figured out what she was trying to do.

The Birth Story of Alice Jane

Alice Jane

So, as you have probably gathered by now, Alice Jane made her entrance into the world early this morning.

My mind is still trying to wrap itself around the sharp contrast between my birthing experience with Ava and the one I just had with Alice. 

In case you didn't read my post on Ava's birth story or simply don't remember it here are the key points:

• Induced at 39.5 weeks because of a severe case of PUPPS that was driving me insane. At that point I hadn't experienced any signs of labor. No braxton hicks, no contractions, no lost mucus plug, no water breaking and I was only 50% effaced and 1 cm dilated.
• Was in active labor for over 24 hours, 4 of which were spent pushing.
• I had an epidural when I reached 7 cm after having 2 doses of morphine.
• Ava was face up and simply not coming out. We were presented with the decision to either go with forceps or vacuum assistance or a c-section. We opted for the c-section because it seemed the least threatening option for Ava, even though it was my worst birthing nightmare realized.
• Had a successful c-section that left me in a lot of pain, exhausted and spending almost a week in the hospital recovering.

I think that about covers it.

Are you ready to hear Alice's birth story?

I have no idea how dilated and effaced I was in the weeks leading up to Alice's birth because I never had them check me. I mean, what's the point? I could spend weeks dilated to 4 cm or be dilated to 1 cm and go into labor the next day. So, as hard as it was not to know, I decided that I would avoid obsessing over a detail that doesn't really mean much by simply not finding out how my body was progressing. Ultimately, I am really happy with this decision. I became really in tune with my body. I noticed feeling off even if I couldn't pin point why. I could tell when a contraction was helping with dilation vs. when it wasn't. Don't get me wrong, I still would get my hopes up with even the most irregular set of slightly painful contractions only to be disappointed when they disappeared, but I also spent a lot of energy embracing the unpredictability of labor. I came to realize that each day could be THE day and that was exciting. I became very zen about the whole thing.

I was given the option at my appointment last week to try Castor oil to get things going if I felt that I really couldn't wait anymore. It was a tempting offer. I could have run right out to pick some up but decided instead to wait until the situation became a truly urgent one, one where I was getting too close to my due date and therefore to the threat of HAVING to have a repeat c-section. Instead we decided to go with a more natural self-induction route -- sex. (Sorry if this is TMI, but I have to keep it real.) At firs the prospect of sex at 38 weeks pregnant did not at all sound like fun. I can't move, I don't feel sexy, I often can't breath and my body is not my own. But, we went for it anyway and I was pleasantly surprised. I enjoyed having that intimacy with my husband before all heck broke loose and it was a beautifully poetic thing when I thought about it. We were now trying to get our darling baby to come out in the same way that we had gone about creating her.

The first time we had sex it caused to fairly painful contractions, but they weren't at all regular and disappeared within 24 hours. But, they gave me enough hope, and well, the sex was enjoyable enough, to encourage me to stick with my natural induction plan.

So, that brings us to yesterday. Yesterday morning I was a woman on a mission. I wanted to see if I could get things rolling and spend some time with my husband. I do love that man afterall ;). So, we had sex again.

I didn't experience anything the first few hours afterward, which made me feel like it wasn't going to work, but that is the great thing about sex to induce -- it is NEVER a waste of time. If it doesn't bring on contractions you have still spent time being intimate with your spouse, which is important, especially when you are about to bring chaos into your lives.

Anyhoo, back to the story.

About 2 hours after we had sex I started to experience uncomfortable contractions, but they didn't last long, weren't a consistent strength and weren't evenly spaced. So, I thought we were dealing with another false alarm. Believe me, I was paying attention too, waiting for them to become even remotely regular enough to warrant timing them. I felt that if the contractions were weak enough for me to ignore them then that is what I should do because I didn't want to waste energy obsessing over anything and everything.

So, I go through my day, blah blah blah, and then the contractions start to become regular. I felt like they were around 4-5 minutes apart, lasting maybe 30-40 seconds. I was just about to start timing them when all of the sudden they were speeding up. I could barely roll over in bed, walk to the bathroom or do anything else between contractions. I also was having a hard time doing anything through a contraction.

I started to panic. What the heck was going on? I mean these contractions came out of NOWHERE. I thought we would have the hour we needed to call and have someone come get Ava. I thought my contractions would be bearable enough to allow me to drive to the hospital. I thought my contractions would increase in intensity gradually enough to allow my brain to adjust right along with them. This was simply not the case.

Adrian called his mom and told her to meet us at the hospital, we didn't have time to have her come get Ava before we left the house. We didn't have time to call labor and delivery to warn them about our arrival. Adrian had to drive to the hospital because I couldn't stand to be in the sitting position. Crap was getting real -- real painful.

We got to the hospital and I was in so much pain, having a contraction that required groaning to get through every one to two minutes and they didn't completely end, they simply faded to a more bearable level before the start of the next. I had to take a wheel chair ride to labor and delivery because it would have taken me an hour to get there walking.

I signed my name twice between contractions, went into a room where my contractions and the baby's heartbeat were monitored and then my worst nightmare for this pregnancy came true. I was asked to lay down, ON MY BACK on a hospital bed to be checked for progress. WHO IN THE HECK THINGS OF THIS CRUEL TORTURE?! 

Dear woman who have given birth naturally on your back,

How in the heck did you not die?

Sincerely,

Lady so utterly grateful for a hospital that does not insist on this cruel and torturous position for any portion of labor.

Thankfully, the midwife was quick about it and got me on my back, checked and back on all fours between contractions. As amazing as that was, what truly through me for a loop was the number she said. In the most calm ho-hum voice you could ever imagine she announced that I was dilated to a 9 and my water was bulging. Alice was still pretty high given how dilated I was, but she was confident that if my water broke she would sink into place. The plan was to move me to my room, break my water and get this show on the road.

Now, here is where I confess something. I went into this labor wanting a medication-free VBAC delivery with every fiber of my being. My mother gave birth to all three of her children without medication as did Adrian's mother. It is like a sorority of women warriors that I desperately wanted to belong to. I could do this. I knew I could do this -- when I was safely tucked in the sanity that is a pregnant lady not yet in labor. When I was in that first room, though, I verbally expressed my doubt. Okay, that is a total understatement, I pretty much flat out said I wanted drugs. ANYTHING. I felt like I was going to die. This was before that magically number was announced though. When the midwife told me I was at a 9 she basically told me that at this point the only way to get relief was to push that baby out because an epidural wouldn't have time to kick in and morphine and similar drugs wouldn't be strong enough to compete with my contractions at this point. 

I was too tired and didn't have enough time between contractions to protest. I am thankful for this now.

So, I told them I wanted to walk to my room, but I could only make it 5 steps between contractions, so I ended up in a wheelchair. Evil wheelchairs.

I got into the room and have monitors hooked up to me, a capped IV inserted and signed some forms all while continuing to experience contractions so strong I felt as though I would being ripped in half from the inside.

I remained standing through all of this. The hospital bed I leaned on through contractions was the devil and to be avoided at all costs.

Contractions continued to get strong and came so closely together I hardly had time to catch my breath between them. I felt the urge to push, but my water hadn't broke and I hand't lost my mucus plug, so I held off simply breathing through the contractions and trying to focus on opening my body up to the labor. That is when I felt the small warm trickle. My water was threatening to break. Next contraction came and I focused on opening up with all my might and BAM my water broke in a flood.

I felt a momentary break from the near unbearable pressure I had been experiencing. Within a minute the pressure my water had provided was replaced by pressure provided by Alice's head. And oh what an enjoyable pressure it was. That's sarcasm folks.

Now I really new what that urge to push felt like because I involuntary began to grunt, scream, claw at the bed and PUSH through each contraction until I HAD to take a breath. I would take the shortest breath my exhausted body would allow and go right back to pushing. The pushing hurt, it brought on a more intense pressure and pain, but the act of not pushing was worse.

I could feel her head moving lower with each push. I felt like her head was ripping me in half. I told everyone that I couldn't do it anymore, and as soon as I heard the words escape my mouth that is when the realization that I had to do it again and again for an indefinite amount of time because it was my only way out. Everyone reassured me. They told me I was doing great, her head was RIGHT there and that I could indeed do this because I already was. Adrian whispered sweet words of encouragement and pride in my ear in a voice so low only I could hear him. I knew he was struggling with watching me endure this pain, he was quiet and frozen, so though those words were few and far between, they were the ones that did the most for my determination because I knew how hard it was for him to say anything at this point.

I kept pushing and pushing. No one counted the length of my pushes. No one told me to fish in three per contraction. No one told me how or where to push. No one told me how to grunt, scream or otherwise deal with the pain. They simply let me do what I had to do. Told me to push at the frustration. To get mad at it and PUSH with all my anger. 

I stood there, supporting myself with my hands on the bed, slightly bent over praying between contractions. I literally asked Jesus for strength between contractions when I didn't need to ask for water or express my inability to keep going.

They continued to monitor Alice's heartbeat through the whole process. I think she was starting to show signs of distress because they were telling me to push with all my might or I was going to have to get in the bed. Dun dun dun. 

I pushed through a couple more contractions and they seemed pleased with my progress for a minute, but then when I couldn't get her out with the next bunch of pushes I was instructed to get into the bed. I purposely took my time, waiting for my next contraction to come. With one leg up on the bed and the other firmly planted on the floor I pushed. I pushed longer and harder than I had up to that point. I knew that I had to get her out or I was going to be forced into that bed. I felt every inch of her head passing through the birthing canal. I felt her coming. I felt that ring of fire and embraced it as my escape from the confines of that evil bed. I pushed again and felt every limb become free from my body. And just as soon as it had started it was over. 

The first words out of my mouth were, "I did it. I can't believe I did it."

Between contractions I was resting my torso across the bed in an exhaustion so deep I couldn't even must the strength to ask for water most of the time. During contractions I pushed through a pain I was sure would kill me via tearing my body in half from the inside. Through all that I brought that little girl into this world. And I not only brought her into this world, I felt every inch of that journey.

I can't say I look forward to doing it again, but I can say that I think God taught me something about myself through Alice and her birth. He purposely brought that labor on so fast that I would have no time for pain meds. He knew I could do it, he knew my strength, even while I was doubting it. He gave me back the empowered feeling I lost through the whole Ava birth fiasco of '08. He showed me that I was capable of belonging to that special sorority of women warriors. He sent me my membership card, the same membership card my mother, Adrian's mother and several other women carry with them. The card that reminds us that even when you face something so overwhelming that your brain reaches the conclusion that there is no way you can possibly survive this not only can you survive, but you can also bring something truly beautiful to the world at the same time.

So, while Alice's labor lasted roughly 3 hours from when the contractions seemed legit enough to time to her entrance into the world, I feel that I traveled a whole lifetime during her labor.