labor

The day after our drive + hike in Logan Canyon, I woke up to go potty at around 6:00am + noticed my underwear was kind-of-not-dry, and I wondered if maybe my water had broken. But then I remembered having read something along the lines of, "When your water breaks, you'll know it." My underwear wasn't that wet, so I changed and got back in bed for a little bit longer before getting up and going to work.

That Monday was the normalest Monday of all Mondays. I had an IEP after school, then went home and thought about making dinner.

When I got home, I went potty again (because the bladder of a pregnant lady is a ridiculous thing), and I noticed my underwear was wet again. I knew I hadn't peed my pants, so I called my doctor's office and had a chat with the nurse there. She told me to change my underwear and walk around for a bit, and if it happened again, I should go to the hospital and have them check me out.

I made dinner and double checked that my hospital bag was completely packed, then went to the bathroom and checked just as Andy was driving home from work. 

As you probably guessed, it had happened again. Andy and I ate, and ran to Hobby Lobby really quickly (because I had to get some stuff for a Relief Society activity to take place that week). When we got home, we both took a shower, Andy gave me a blessing, and we headed to the hospital.

We checked in at about 7:00pm and discovered that I was, in fact, leaking amniotic fluid, and that I probably had been for the past 13 hours. 

Before your raise your eyebrows any further, know that I hadn't felt a single contraction. They checked, and I was still only dilated to a 2 and 80% effaced; nothing had changed in the past 2 weeks. But because my water had broken, I was technically in labor, so they had me stay.

They started me on an antibiotic to ward off any infection I might've acquired over the past 13 hours, and at about 9pm, they started me on pitocin (because I still wasn't having any contractions and I wasn't progressing on my own).

Andy and I watched some Lord of the Rings while the pitocin started doing its thing, and this is where things got a bit hazy for me. I remember feeling uncomfortable with contractions, and I remember being stupidly tired. The sweet nursing staff came in and checked on me regularly and I was still progressing slowly. 

At about 12:30 on Tuesday morning, the anesthesiologist gave me an epidural, and I got really giggly because of the sweet relief. Man alive, the epidural was wonderful.

Andy and I tried to sleep after that. I actually succeeded in catching a few cat naps throughout the night, but poor Andy couldn't sleep at all. 

The combination of the epidural + being so tired + not fully being aware of the clock, makes for a messed up timeline in my own head, but here's what I can recall...

I had progressed okay, but got stuck at around 4.5 cm for a very long while--long enough, in fact, that they were discussing the possibility a c-section. Also, sometime that morning, my epidural was wearing off, and I could really feel the contractions on one side. And they hurt. A lot. Andy rubbed my back and tried to help as much as he could as I cried into my pillow. When my sweet nurses checked on me, they turned me on my other side to allow gravity help the medication move around, and they were extra vigilant to make sure they flipped me every couple of hours + things went much more smoothly.

Things really started picking up at around 11:00am, and at 11:30, it was time to push. At that point, I kind of fell apart and cried; I was about to become a mother! I was going to meet my son very soon!

My nurses had warned me that, as a first timer, pushing could take anywhere between one and three hours.

For some silly reason, I thought (even after having been in active labor for well over 12 hours) that I might be one of those moms you hear about who literally only had push three or four times. 

Silly, stupid Gina. THEY HAD WARNED ME.

At some point during all the pushing, I threw up. I told my nurse I was feeling sick and she got me a bag in the nick of time. I hadn't had anything to eat besides ice chips and a few bites of Jell-o since 5:30 the night before, so there was only bile. Yuck.

My nurse told that vomiting is actually a really effective way to help push a baby out, and that helped me feel a bit better about having been sick during labor.

I surprised myself and used the mirror they offered, and it ended up being incredibly helpful. 

At 1:00pm, my doctor walked in to check on me, and he said, "Let's have this baby." And I was thinking, "Hey, man, I've been pushing for an hour and a half, do you think that saying it will make it so?" But he meant business, because he got dressed in what, in my exhausted state, looked like a hazmat suit, got in position, looked me in the eye, and told me to push. 

At that point, I only had to push a couple of times, and after 100 minutes of pushing, there he was. 

My Thomas.

He had the cutest little cry as they cleaned him up + weighed him + did the APGAR tests...but when they plopped him on my tummy, he was so quiet and alert.

He weighed 6 lb., 15 oz., and was 20.5 inches long. A little squirt.

And man, oh man, that first moment of holding my newborn son; cradling him in my arms; looking at him as he looked at me; feeling his soft skin against mine...it was all so magical and exhilarating and reverent. I held him close and whispered, "Hello, handsome! I'm your Momma, and I love you so much!"

I can't even tell you what, exactly, was going on around me. I know that Dr. Horsley was busy with the aftermath of delivery, and there was a team of nurses doing...stuff. But I only had eyes for my boys, Andy and Thomas. 

When the team left and it quieted down, Tommy and I tried nursing for the first time. After a few short minutes, I started shaking and felt sick again, so Andy got some one-on-one time with his little boy as I threw up some more and the nurse put heated blankets on top of me and got my post-birth shock, I think it was, under control.

I felt guilty that I couldn't nurse for longer immediately after he was born, but watching Andy with Thomas that first hour or two is one of the most precious things I've ever seen. Man alive, I married a good man.

Labor was long. And hard. And painful. And exhausting. But, dang it, I'd do it again for my sweet little Thomas. 

Getting to know him on the outside, especially in those first few days, was so tender. I felt like I knew him so well already, but I just could not get enough of his sweet face + his heavenly smell.

I fell for his face the moment I clapped eyes on him

I did it. I pushed a baby out of me. And as hard and awful and tiring as it was, I'm so glad I did it. 

Hello, baby boy!

one day old

Thomas on his due date, a whole week old!
He's always had a ridiculously expressive face.

Tommy and his little friends, Rowlf and Kermie.

pregnancy

I took my first pregnancy test as early as possible, and the faintest blue line showed up. Naturally, I googled what it could mean, and I decided to give my body's HCG time to increase.

Two days later, the blue line was only slightly less faint.

At that point I was out of pregnancy tests, and decided to spring for Clearblue, because there's no guesswork; it says either "pregnant" or "not pregnant."

Can't get any clearer than that...

Andy and I were thrilled to find out I was pregnant. That moment of realization that my lifelong dream of becoming a momma was in the process of happening is one of my happiest memories. Ever. We were so excited we wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but we knew it would be best to wait. Besides, it was a lot of fun having it be our little secret for a while.

Andy's sister Sadie got home from her mission at the very end of March, and we found that spending a lot of time with his family and not telling them about Baby Dunc was a lot harder than we had imagined it would be.

We went to GC with Andy's family and didn't
breathe a word about baby.

Our first ultrasound happened right at 12 weeks, and seeing the little bean move + hearing the fast little heartbeat was so incredible + emotional.

our first look at our first baby

In the meantime, I was so tired. All the time. All I wanted to do was sleep. Nausea hit at about seven or eight weeks, but it was hit and miss. I threw up, sometimes four or five times a day, sometimes once or twice, some days never. If I wasn't feeling like throwing up, though, I felt like eating. I would eat a meal and then be something near famished an hour later. I felt gloriously gluttonous. Seriously. I could out-eat Andy and I didn't even care.

I enjoyed my cravings. My most frequent and intense cravings involved Mexican food (especially tacos), watermelon, and lemon Noosa yogurt with fresh strawberries. AND JELL-O. (There really is always room for Jell-o!)

I turned into a fiery furnace; all that extra blood coursing through my body made me so dang hot that I often froze Andy out at our apartment. I'd keep the AC going at night with a light blanket on top of me + my feet sticking out, frequently flipping to the cool side of the pillow...and there was Andy, an extra blanket on top of him + snuggling into me for warmth. (Oh, how the roles reversed!) #sorryAndy

Also: heartburn. I experienced heartburn for the first time at the beginning of my second trimester and it lasted (and got worse) throughout the entire pregnancy. Man, I hate heartburn. I ate a thousand Tums and drank my weight in chocolate milk.

I was told that my horrendous fatigue would let up when I hit my second trimester, and it did...for about two glorious weeks. But besides being ridiculously sleepy + heartburny + having to pee all the time, second trimester was smooth sailing--especially since I had the summer off and I could nap every. single. day.

I was so excited when my tummy started poking out.

feeling the baby move was my favorite thing about pregnancy

We found out the gender of Baby Dunc on July 7, and that was another really special day. We'd had a name picked out for either gender, and when we found out he was a boy, it was fun to start calling him by name, praying for him by name.

In mid-July, Andy and I took a trip to Seattle to celebrate our first anniversary, but we called it a baby-moon. It was so much fun! I was extra tired  because pregnancy fatigue + I was used to daily naps, but overall, I feel like I hit the ground running pretty hard.

A family portrait at Snoqualmie

Me and Tommy at a Mariners game

I was pregnant at the same time as two of my sisters-in-law, Mary, and Hailey. And my friends Tracie and Charley, too. I highly recommend being pregnant with friends! We texted each other about weird, gross pregnancy symptoms + updated each other on doctor appointments + griped about how hot we always were. It was great fun!

Me (+ Tommy), Hailey (+ Harrison), Mary (+ Gunner)
at the Duncan family reunion at Bear Lake in August

The summer disappeared all too quickly (like it does), and I found myself back to work at the tail end of my second trimester. I didn't mind coming back to work; I like my job. But, man, I missed my daily naps.

definitely pregnant

At work, the district brought a Speech-Language Technician to be my friend so that she could take over when I was on maternity leave. I was super nervous that I'd be spending literally my entire workday with another human, but I freaking love her and it couldn't have turned out better. Jessica asked great questions + was quick to learn + picked up stuff that I dropped so I wouldn't have to bend over + I basically love her like a sister.

I think I was ridiculously tired for 90% of my pregnancy.

Somewhere in my third trimester, I started getting uncomfortable. And sore. My feet ached all the time, but most especially in the morning; I hated putting weight on my feet first thing in the morning. I had cankles. My fingers were swollen + my knuckles hurt. (I know that's super weird, but it went away after I had Tommy, so I'm calling it a pregnancy symptom.) Also, I got the weirdest, lightning-sharp pain up near my ribs. And my back hurt all the time.

Pregnancy is not for the faint-of-heart, man.

Feeling him move was magical;
watching him move was fascinating and straight-up crazy.

check out my cankles

Andy was a real prince and would rub/tickle my back + give me foot massages. And, guys? Andy gives amazing foot massages. Also, I took a hot bath every single night, sometimes twice on Saturdays.

this was mid-October, and I was regularly praying
that Tommy would come healthy + strong + EARLY

we had the bags packed by about 37 weeks

I remember talking to my mom one day around week 37, whining a bit about how achy and uncomfortable I was, telling her I just wanted Tommy to come. My mom told me that there were people on the other side that loved him and were going to miss him, so I just needed to be patient and let him say his goodbyes. Totally made me cry. I pictured him sitting on my Grandma Rigby's lap, taking in her sweet smell; I pictured him getting bounced around on his Grandpa Duncan's knee, and getting some last-minute advice from all sorts of family. That helped me to cool my jets about rushing Tommy to earth before he was quite ready to leave his family over there.

desperate times call for desperate measures

At my 37 week checkup with Dr. Horsley, I was dilated to a 2 and 80% effaced, so my hopes were super high that I'd be far enough along that he could strip my membrane the following week. Alas, my numbers hadn't changed at all and I was so sad; I was officially ready to be done with pregnancy and finally meet my little boy. 

As week 39 approached, Andy and I decided to go for a drive up Logan Canyon to see if a change in elevation might help Thomas along. As we approached Bear Lake, we stopped at the Limber Mine Trailhead and went for a hike to really get my blood pumping. (Honestly, for Andy it was more of a nature walk, but for a gal who was nine months pregnant and larger than she'd ever been in her life, it was a legitimate hike.) I think I must've been expecting him to come crashing out of me that night or something, because I woke up the next day feeling pretty disappointed that my water hadn't broken, or that crazy contractions hadn't started. I was kind of bummed to wake up and go to work.

As it turns out, I wouldn't have to wait much longer to meet him, but that story deserves its own post....

motherhood

I can't believe it's been almost a year since my last post.

Andy and I found out I was pregnant the day after my last post. That was a really good day. (Honestly, I don't remember the details of the day, but the positive home pregnancy test was thrilling, so everything else was bound to fade into the background anyway.)

Pregnancy was...interesting. It's kind of gross at times, uncomfortable most of the time, and completely amazing all the time. Growing a life inside you, man. Pregnancy is nuts!

More on that later.

He came on a Tuesday in November. Labor was long (more on that later, too), but I'll never forget the feeling of meeting my baby boy for the first time. He screamed a bit as they cleaned him up, but then he quieted down and looked around.

It's such a crazy, sacred thing, meeting your human for the first time. So many thoughts and emotions coursed through my mind and my heart, but the thought that really hit me full-force was his sweet perfection. He was so beautiful and healthy, AND I MADE HIM! With Andy! He was ours, and he was so precious!

He came out with the cutest little pout. That lower lip of his is the cutest thing, and he's mastered a devastatingly pathetic and overwhelmingly darling pouty face. (It usually protrudes when I stop him mid-feed to burp, or when we're not dressing him fast enough after a bath.)

We've named our little guy Thomas.

Thomas Wade.

He changed our world as only a baby can, and we are completely smitten over our little guy.

I think he was three days old here.

I swear that baby smiles are more than mere gas...

This is the look he gave us on Thanksgiving when we told him
all the food he'll be able to enjoy next year.

A boy and his dog...and his frog.

This will forever be one of my favorite pictures of Tommy.

I'm pretty sure this is a reflux cry.

#MotherBoy

My boys on Christmas morning.

Photo by Hailey Duncan

On his blessing day. #smolder
Hailey Duncan Photo

Thomas + Gunner + Harrison
Hailey Duncan Photo

These SuperBabies are happiest with their WubbaNubs nearby.
Hailey Duncan Photo

He goes through all the emotions in quick succession;
ten seconds after taking this picture, he was smiling bigly.

This is Tommy's preferred method of tummy time.

He does the cutest things with his hands when he sleeps...

Besides the pout, Tommy has also mastered a curmudgeonly scowl.
It makes giggle and swoon all at once.

Did you see those three babies a few photos up? Those are his cousins. Gunner came 15 days after Tommy, and Harrison came 18 days after that. Can you just imagine the mischief they're going to cause when they're older? I can't wait!

Anyway, Tommy is very nearly 3 months old, and although those first weeks were crazy (I'm looking at you, postpartum hormones + baby reflux + sleepless nights), we've started to kind of figure each other out. -That's not to say that Tommy doesn't throw a clink in things just to keep us on our toes. But we've learned that that's a part of parenthood as well.

Welcome to Earth, Major Tom.