tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42469232209350634022024-03-05T15:16:05.535-08:00Their Little FootprintsLhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-31049752824092436872014-07-20T19:22:00.000-07:002014-07-20T19:30:04.017-07:00St. Louis Here We AreWhen I started this blog, it was to chronicle our clubfoot journey. We had already been down this road with our oldest son when he was an infant, and we had just found out we were expecting our second clubfoot baby. We had also found out that the doctor we had used for our oldest was no longer practicing, so we needed to find a new doctor. This began my extensive (and exhausting) research about clubfoot.<br />
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I began to realize how different Oliver's treatment was from the norm. He did not have the surgery to lengthen his heel cord (tenotomy) on either foot. This happens occasionally but rarely. But the thing that was most different was that instead of the usual bar and boots brace, he wore a custom orthodic called KAFOs - knee, ankle, foot orthodic. And we were told to stop them at 13 months old, instead of the 4 years that is usually recommended. I also started reading about relapses. Some children, for various reasons, have a recurrence of their clubfoot and have to undergo additional casting and surgeries. Relapse was never something that was mentioned to us. Oliver's last appointment with Dr. Cummiskey was when he was about 21 months old.<br />
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Had I done research at the time I would have questioned his doctor and asked for the standard treatment. But Oliver did so well that I didn't even think to ask. His feet looked amazing and we were so happy.<br />
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During the winter/ early spring of 2013, Oliver was in speech therapy and a physical therapist noticed how he was walking - on his tip toes. We decided to do some physical therapy with him to stretch his feet and see if we could correct that. The therapy helped, but we began to really worry.<br />
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In July 2013 we went to Indianapolis to meet with Dr. Kayes to see if he was who we wanted our second son (who was due in September 2013) to be treated by. We took Oliver with us to see if he would take a look at him. Without us even asking, he started to look at and manipulate Oliver's feet and examine them. He said while there may be a little tightness, it wasn't anything concerning and to just encourage him to walk on flat feet and keep up the stretches. We were relieved.<br />
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However, Oliver's tip toe walking continued. And it seemed to get worse. There were times he seemed to walk more on the outside of his feet and when he did walk flat footed, it wasn't for long. I worried so much about him. Finally, we decided to contact Dr. Dobbs, one of the best clubfoot doctors in the nation.<br />
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I had been in contact with Dr. Dobbs previously when I was looking for a doctor for Max, and had entertained the idea of taking Max to him for his treatment. We ultimately decided to stay in Indiana for Max's care but I always kept Dr. Dobbs in mind in case anything emerged that I felt we needed expert care.<br />
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One night while getting ready for bed, I asked Oliver to walk around a bit while I took videos. I then sent them to Dr. Dobbs and asked his opinion. He replied that same night saying he could see that there was tightness in Oliver's heels and his forefeet turned in, and that Oliver would benefit from treatment. He said to let him know anything he could do to help.<br />
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My heart sank. In my heart I had expected this, but part of me had hoped he would say, "oh it's ok, he will be just fine!" Over the next few days, Dr. Dobbs and I exchanged numerous emails. He explained that he would first try casts because at times that can correct the problem. If not, then we would talk about surgery - either tenotomy or tendon transfer.<br />
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I talked with his nurse, who explained different outcomes depending on what Dr. Dobbs sees when he examines Oliver. Because Oliver was born with bilateral clubfoot, both legs will be in casts. They say we will be surprised by how he finds ways to get himself around at home, but we will also have a wheelchair for when we are out and about. We just don't know what to expect because so much depends on what Dr. Dobbs says. But there is a very good chance that when we leave Dr. Dobbs' office, Oliver will be in casts.<br />
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We have not told many people about what is going on. We haven't even told Oliver yet, because we don't know much to tell him. We will briefly explain to him tomorrow the best we can. We didn't want anyone to say anything in front of Oliver, so we have been pretty private about it. I am just now sharing publicly , even though I still don't know much to say. There are so many unanswered questions.<br />
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We just arrived in St. Louis tonight (Sunday, July 20). Tomorrow at 2:45 (3:45 at home) is Oliver's appt.<br />
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My heart is so heavy thinking about it all. I just can't process it. Prayers for our sweet Oliver are appreciated.Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-88767439874688522512014-07-13T21:02:00.001-07:002014-07-13T21:02:49.650-07:00Trying to Catch a Breath<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hello all,<br />
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Its been so long since I've been able to post. Forgive me for being so lax in updating. I feel like since the start of 2014, life has been an extreme roller coaster. Briefly, this is a run down of our year thus far:<br />
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<b>January 6, 2014. </b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-frc3/t1.0-9/1530452_10101665125457238_1516966943_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" class="spotlight" height="320" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-frc3/t1.0-9/1530452_10101665125457238_1516966943_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our sweet boy spent 2 nights in the hospital in January. He won all the hearts of all his nurses with his sweet smile!</i></td></tr>
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In the middle of a crazy blizzard, we ended up having to take Max to the emergency room because of an infection (unrelated to his clubfoot). Jay's parents were snowed in at their house, so we had to load all 3 kids up in the van and attempt to make it to the hospital. It was crazy...no traffic allowed on the roads except for emergencies, and it took forever, but we made it to the ER. Max had to stay for about 48 hours in the children's wing at Lutheran Hospital, a horrible and exhausting stay. Jay still had to work while we were there, so thankfully he was able to get to his parents house and take Oliver and Lucy to have them stay with their Nana and Poppa. Max had a rough stay and it was, to be honest, very traumatizing for this mama. He is doing fine now, has had his final follow-up appointments with specialists, and we will hopefully never revisit those issues.<br />
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<b>March 13, 2014</b>. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="256" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xap1/t1.0-9/1237060_10202306527808647_888512037_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our beloved Poppa. We can't wait to see you again in heaven.</i></td></tr>
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Jay's dad, our beloved Poppa, unexpectedly passed away. I have never felt such a loss, such a deep grief, as losing my father-in-law. I could go on and on and probably should write out those feelings someday as a way to heal, but this isn't the time or place. What was supposed to be a routine procedure turned into something much worse, and before we knew it, he was gone. My heart still aches every day for the man who took me into his family and loved me like his own. I long to hear his voice and feel his hugs. Life is very much felt in a "before Poppa died" and "after Poppa died" time frame. I couldn't bring myself to even think of blogging for the longest time after he passed because nothing felt right, nothing felt the same. And I knew how much he loved reading my posts. Its hard to even think of posting this one knowing he will never read it.<br />
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<b>April 7, 2014</b>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight hidden_elem" height="320" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-e-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xfa1/t31.0-8/p417x417/1622588_10101828151401938_6241317751580969416_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="180" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Max right before his tongue and lip tie revision. Dr. Notestine was amazing!</i></td></tr>
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We drove 3 hours to take Max to get his lip and tongue tie revised. After dealing with some breastfeeding struggles with Lucy, I discovered she had a lip and tongue tie. Shortly after Max was born I realized he had the same, and knew we should get it corrected. He went through so much after he was born with his clubfoot correction that I couldn't bring myself to do anything else to the sweet baby. So we waited. I had actually called in February and scheduled the appointment for March 13 - and then had to cancel it because Jay's dad died that day. So we rescheduled for April and had it done. It was quick, and the changes in his nursing habits were immediate and so worth the trouble. But it was still hard to see him go through the procedure. The days that followed were also very hard because we had to do stretches to keep the skin from reattaching. He would scream and scream and it just broke my heart. I'm very thankful, however, that we did it and that we made the long drive to go to someone who is very experienced and very good. If we have another baby someday, I wouldn't hesitate to go back to Dr. Notestine if we need another revision.<br />
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<b>May 2014</b>. Nothing seems as awful after the death of one of your closest family members. However, things still are hard. There's just no denying that. One week early in May Max was running a low grade fever and just not feeling well. I could tell he had teeth very close to coming in, so I held off on going to the doctor. One evening I had a mom's night out at Oliver's preschool, and when I got home, Max had fluid running out of his ear. His ear drum had ruptured. :( I felt so so awful. I took him to the ER, had a wonderful nurse, and was back home quickly with medications to help him. It seemed like things were getting better, until about 3 days later, he started having an allergic reaction to the amoxicillan. He broke out in a terrible case of hives and it was absolutely awful to see. It scared me to death to see my sweet baby so covered in horrible bumps and splotches. My sweet boy has been through so much. His feet swelled so much that his braces left bruises on his feet.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="320" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/t1.0-9/10155892_10101895388109038_1771190626442696735_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Max's reaction to his antibiotic was so awful to see. Thankfully it didn't seem to bother him at all!</i></td></tr>
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May was also the month that Oliver, our oldest, graduated from preschool. That was an emotional time for me as a mom. Not only because our oldest was finishing preschool, but because I knew we would soon be moving and so many changes were happening and had already happened to us recently. I'm so proud of Oliver and all he has accomplished.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="320" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xpa1/t1.0-9/1554602_10101911100680918_1138243783728944233_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oliver's graduation from preschool. The interaction between Oliver and Max is so sweet!</i></td></tr>
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<b>June 2014</b>. We became homeowners! It was something we had dreamed about for years and it finally came true. We were fortunate enough to build a house and although the last few weeks had some bumps in the road for the most part it was a smooth process. It was hard in some ways to leave the small house that we had rented for almost 4 years. We had pretty much built our family there. Oliver was not quite 2 when we moved in, and Lucy and Max were born while we lived there. We absolutely love this new house and feel blessed to call it our own.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="320" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/10351098_10101958134689388_3032963437361351214_n.jpg?oh=662188e00ad8137a75f458ab60f720a5&oe=5444331D&__gda__=1412823906_173d7cf3d7ce24a427a13a1ffbfafad3" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>In the final phases of building. We love it here!</i></td></tr>
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<b>July 2014.</b><br />
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This month has been busy so far getting settled into the house- which is a much harder task than I ever imagined with 3 little ones around! I had expected to be completely unpacked and things in place by now - we've lived here about 2.5 weeks - but its not there yet. Slowly, but surely, it'll happen. We took a couple of days and went to Holiday World as a family along with Jay's mom aka Nana. Its been a whirlwind of a month and tomorrow (July 14) is our 7 year wedding anniversary. Its hard to believe all that has happened in 7 years and its exciting to think of all that lays ahead for us.<br />
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So as you can see, 2014 has been a crazy year for us. So much good, and such deep heartache, all within just a few months. We have more coming up very soon that will be big for our family as well, that I will be sharing later this week. And of course, I still want to blog more about Max's treatment and care. He is doing well, and has an appointment coming up this week with his orthopedic doctor for a routine check-up. Stay tuned, and God Bless!Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-24089174419667101772013-12-12T18:28:00.000-08:002013-12-12T18:28:38.352-08:00A Necessary BreakOctober 28.<br />
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We went down for another casting appointment. It was the day before Max turned one month old, and I didn't really expect anything out of the ordinary. My dear friend Becky went with me, and my dad wasn't able to meet us that time so Becky went back with me to the exam room.<br />
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A different lady took Max's cast off that day. It was the first time I had met her, but she was one of the two people I had been told to request, and she did a great job. But when the casts came off, we saw this:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/9264_10101511988934058_1050933136_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>See that dark spot of skin right above his foot?</i></td></tr>
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I hadn't seen any sort of discoloration of his skin until this point. I thought it looked odd, but didn't really know what to think. After Max was born he had tons of dry skin that peeled off. I remembered that when he had his first cast put on, I thought, "How is all of that dry skin going to peel off if its under a cast all of the time?" On this day, I thought perhaps that's all it was- dry skin from after he was born that never had been able to come off.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/1391625_10101511988240448_1117350913_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Third cast off. 4 weeks old.</i></td></tr>
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Once Max had the cast taken off, he was very unsettled. He cried, a lot, for most of the time we waited. That appointment was hard- we had a long wait for the doctor and it was cold in the room. I should have wrapped Max up sooner than I did, or gotten him dressed, or something. But I held him and walked with him. I tried nursing him and burping him. Nothing seemed to settle him down. He seemed more upset when I touched his leg or his foot, so I tried not to touch it much, which wasn't easy.<br />
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Dr. Kayes and his PA came in and noticed the spot right away. Immediately he said, "We can't cast over that. We need to take a break."<br />
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Max was still crying. Did I hear him correctly? Wait, why is the PA putting all the casting supplies away? What's going on? <i>Why is my baby still crying and I can't figure out why he isn't being casted?!?!</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/1382194_10101511986583768_1596213182_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sweet foot!</i></td></tr>
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Dr. Kayes explained that we shouldn't cast over a spot like that. To do so would cause further irritation, and if it became an open wound, we have a whole host of other problems to deal with since we definitely couldn't cast over an open wound that size. Max also had a small blister at the top of his leg where the cast had rubbed. I almost always kept a legwarmer over the cast and tucked it down around the edges, but it must not have protected it enough.<br />
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All I could think was, <i>he can't be out of a cast. He just can't. What about all the progress we will lose?!</i> Dr. Kayes and his PA both assured me that we would pick up with casting and all would be okay. Sometimes these things happen, and while it isn't common, occasionally it does occur.<br />
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We could barely talk over Max's crying, and Dr. Kayes seemed genuinely concerned that Max was so upset. He said sometimes babies get so used to their casts that they don't like to be out of them. I was told not to put any ointment or anything like that on the spot so that the skin could heal on its own. It was a Monday, and he said it things looked a lot better in a couple of days we could come back on Friday. Otherwise we would just pick up again the following Monday. He told us some stretches to do and I felt comfortable with that because we had done so many stretches with Oliver's feet as a baby.<br />
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And just like that, the appointment was over. I was taking my baby back home without a cast. It was so strange. I was somewhat dumbfounded by the whole experience. I tried calming Max down, but he wasn't having it. Finally, I just decided to get him dressed and we would leave. I couldn't take being in the room anymore with him crying like that. Thankfully, once I got him dressed, he settled down more. I wonder if it was a combination of being out of the cast and being cold that made him so unhappy. Then I felt terrible that it was something so simple as being cold that made him cry; I could have easily fixed that earlier had I realized.<br />
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Becky and I left, and I sent Jay a text. I really didn't know what to say. "Hey the appointment went well. Actually, no it didn't. He is coming home without a cast. But the doctor says it'll be okay. But I'm totally uneasy about the entire thing."<br />
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I should clarify. I absolutely believe it was the best decision to leave Max out of a cast to let the spot heal. Causing further damage to his leg by re-casting could have made things so much worse. But when your baby has clubfoot, you get so used to having him or her in a cast. Its just part of your everyday routine. You can't wait for it to be over, and when that day comes I will be elated. But to have a week of no cast in the middle of the process? The whole thing felt so very, very strange.<br />
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Telling people that Max was taking a break from his casts felt very awkward. Most everyone assumed it was a nice thing- gosh, isn't it nice having his legs free for a week? You can enjoy his time without the cast, you can give him baths, etc etc etc. And all of that was true. It was wonderful to cuddle my little guy and give him real baths that he didn't cry through. But it just felt <i>wrong.</i> It felt like this long, drawn out <i>pause</i> on the whole procedure. I felt like we were already living it week by week to see how much progress he was making, and now we were just pausing. It was the week of Halloween and it lasted forever.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="240" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/1380801_10101515692162758_1807299924_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Some Halloween fun.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Its tiring being such a cute little pumpkin!</i></td></tr>
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I was so ready to get him back in a cast. Like I said, I really hate dealing with the casts, but when you know its what your baby needs, you just want it done. It just felt so strange. One thing about clubfoot is that you generally do not want them out of the casts for long. That is why his cast gets cut off at the doctor's office and in less than an hour (usually less than 30 minutes) he is re-casted. When Oliver was a baby I had to take his casts off the night before, and that is actually not advised because you don't want to risk losing progress. So a whole week? I dreaded going back and seeing what progress we lost.<br />
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The first night home without his cast was rough. He would cry and just kick and kick that leg. He was very unsettled and you could tell he wasn't used to having the cast off. Thankfully, he settled down as the week went on and his skin healed beautifully. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/1424325_10101512860961508_1238127176_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Just 24 hours out of his cast and the spot was drying up nicely.</i></td></tr>
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Although the spot looked healed by Thursday, I did not feel comfortable calling and making an appointment for the following day for another cast. As badly as I wanted him to get back into the cast and be on our way again, I didn't want to risk putting him back in too soon. I wanted to make sure he was fully healed. When we did go back the next week, his foot looked great and we were ready for another cast.<br />
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Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-37992524230262142802013-12-07T19:10:00.002-08:002013-12-07T19:10:56.769-08:00Max's Early CastingsThe first three weeks that Max was in a cast went very well. He did much better than I expected, and as I result, I did much better handling it all. Sure, it was really hard having my baby in a cast. But he didn't cry as much as Oliver did with the castings and overall just seemed to do better.<br />
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The first night he had his first cast on he was unsettled and emotionally it was very hard. After that first night, though, he really seemed to settle in. We began struggling with some breastfeeding supply issues- I actually had too much milk and the evenings were very hard for us. He would gulp, gulp, gulp, choking on the milk as my letdown happened. He would then scream, burp, and cry again because he was still hungry. This cycle would repeat itself often. It was very hard and very draining. Just as the older two kids were getting into bed and settled down Max would start having a tough time. There was definitely no "down time" for this new (again) mom and I was so very thankful to have Jay's help with the burping and calming Max down.<br />
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Max had his first cast change when he was 15 days old. I was so very nervous about this appointment. Jay couldn't go with me, and I was pretty upset about that. Because Jay had worked second shift when Oliver was a baby, he had been able to go to every appointment. Now Jay was on first shift (which overall works out much better for our family) and we weren't able to afford to have him take an entire day off of work each week. I was especially nervous for this cast change because I knew he would be getting the cast cut off with a saw. This was an unknown for me because Oliver's were not taken off this way. I now know that it is recommended to do this (instead of soaking them off at home) but oh how I dreaded it. The whole cast process was hard enough, but now I had to see them take a saw that close to my baby's legs? My stomach was in knots all of Sunday. I absolutely dreaded the appointment.<br />
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Despite Jay not being able to go, I did not have to go to the appointment by myself. A dear friend from church offered to go with Max and me, and the second casting was the first time she got to go along. Becky has truly been an angel to us, blessing us with her time and support. She drove down for us so that I could be available to help Max if needed. Thankfully, Max has done so well on the drives down. (After having Lucy absolutely hate car rides, I was very nervous about how Max would do.) It has been so wonderful having someone to go to appointments with me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/1374344_10101497351018558_110432867_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Ready to have his first cast taken off. No worries from this little guy!</i></td></tr>
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The first time Max got his cast taken off did not go well. The good news was that Max had gained weight again and was well above 9 1/2 lbs. The bad news was that the cast tech knicked his ankle when cutting the cast off. There was a definite "personality clash" so to speak. He tried making jokes with me and I just was not in the mood. He then told me that seeing me nervous about Max having the cast taken off was making HIM nervous and that he was not going to hurt my baby. So when he got the cast off and said that he had, in fact, knicked him...I was not happy, to say the least. Thankfully, it was more of a scratch than a cut but still. Mama was very unhappy to know that anything like that had happened to her baby.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/1395157_10101497361397758_1288987500_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Enjoying some sweet, cast free baby snuggles!</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/1395298_10101497362690168_906624903_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Not easy to see, but just above his ankle is a red mark. That's where the cast tech "knicked" him.</i></td></tr>
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It was so wonderful to see Max's foot. He didn't like me touching his leg or his foot, which is normal. But still, oh how I wanted to just rub and touch it. I couldn't believe that I was able to see and feel it again. There wasn't a dramatic difference after that first time, really, since they hadn't done a dramatic turn. I was somewhat disappointed in that, even though I knew they had achieved the progress they were hoping to. I was just so ready to get things moving and be making some really visible progress.<br />
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I held Max as long as I could, and then they came in to put the new cast on. It was hard to put him back down and go through another casting. The doctor was pleased with the creases looking better and his toes being in line. I asked the doctor about atypical feet, and he said Max did not have one. I was thankful to hear that as I knew that atypical/complex clubfoot has more challenges in correcting them than a typical clubfoot. It seemed as though just as soon as I was enjoying his free time, it was time to get the cast back on. They quickly began to wrap his foot again and in my mind I couldn't help but think, "No! Wait! Not so fast...I'm not ready yet! Just..no! Give me another minute with him. Just a little longer. I'm just not ready." I don't think I would have ever been ready. But each time Max got a new cast, I would continue to feel this way. I was just never ready for them to put a new cast on.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/1393553_10101497364481578_1576477023_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sweet baby boy. Second cast on.</i></td></tr>
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Max cried more during the second and third castings, but still not too much, really. We could tell he was uncomfortable but it wasn't an uncontrollable crying like I had expected. I really felt so very blessed by how well things were going. I absolutely dreaded the appointments, though, and Sundays became very difficult. When Max was three weeks old and the day before his third cast, Jay got the chance to go to Colts football game. I was thrilled for him that he got to go to the best game he could have seen (a Colts/Broncos game) and he got to spend the day in Indianapolis with his dad, brother, and friend. But that day was probably the hardest day for me. Sundays were hard anyway, but not having Jay home to talk to and lean on was heartbreaking. Taking care of the three little ones by myself was exhausting. My mother-in-law came to help during bedtime because Max was still having tough nights and I just didn't know how I was going to do it by myself. I spent a lot of time in tears that day, and more than once the big kids noticed me crying. I missed Jay, I was envious that he could spend an entire day doing whatever he wanted to do without little ones demanding all of his attention, and I absolutely did not want to face another cast change the next day. It was just very, very hard.<br />
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The next day when Max had his third cast put on, I requested a different cast tech. I have been blessed to "meet" (I say that in quotes because we have not officially met in person-yet!- but have talked frequently online and on the phone as well) another clubfoot mama who takes her boys to Dr. Kayes. She told me the names of two other ladies to ask for to remove the casts. I am so thankful that I did. We had an extremely sweet lady take Max's cast off that day. She was so gentle and so kind. I was able to breathe a huge sigh of relief knowing that I didn't have to dread the cast removal each time. She did a great job with Max.<br />
<img alt="" class="spotlight" height="180" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/1380734_10101497370070378_1352391963_n.jpg" width="320" /> <img alt="" class="spotlight" height="180" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/1376445_10101497370649218_1983800617_n.jpg" width="320" /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="180" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/1377311_10101497371158198_2107361048_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Max did so well with this sweet nurse taking his cast off. She was amazing! We found out at this appointment that at 3 weeks old Max weighed over 10 1/2 lbs...he had gained more than 2 lbs above his birth weight already!</i></td></tr>
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Max's third appointment I went to by myself, and it was the first time that I had to stop on the way home with him to feed him and settle him down. When I got him out of his carseat I noticed what seemed to be a crack on the back of his cast, right behind his knee. I attempted to move his leg around and the crack was not deep, at all, and his leg was not moving a bit. I was still worried that something might be wrong and called his doctor. Of course I had to leave a message and I was just thinking, "Oh please, don't make us come back down. This is such a long drive!" They called me back once I made it home, and asked some questions. Since the crack was very shallow and not at all deep, and his leg was still immobilized, they said it would be fine. Thank goodness.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn2/1375127_10101497372460588_2098393496_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Max's foot after two weeks of casting.</i></td></tr>
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Max did well with that cast also. He was somewhat unsettled that night but by the next day was fine. I began to feel a real peace about things. God was so, so good to us. I truly felt so many prayers being answered in seeing Max respond so well to the treatment. I would hear songs on the radio that, when I heard them during my pregnancy, made me cry because of how hard things seemed. Now, I could hear those same worship songs and my heart felt such joy. The tears I was shedding now were tears of thanksgiving that God was so faithful to us. I felt He had brought me so far. Max was doing so well, and so was I.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/1377300_10101497372999508_248385074_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Three weeks old and third cast is on.</i></td></tr>
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Unfortunately, we didn't stay in that place for long. Max's fourth cast change came, and brought some unexpected news. Stay tuned. :-)Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-59072893047078113902013-11-29T22:29:00.001-08:002013-11-29T22:29:12.040-08:00Max's First CastThe first week of Max's life was a dream. I had learned the hard way after Lucy's birth to not overdue things...so I took full advantage of Jay having a week off from work. Max was born on a Sunday, and I don't think I put on real clothes until that next Friday when Max had his first doctor's appointment! He was such a sweet, content baby. He nursed quickly and efficiently, and we were able to smoothly work through some latch issues that I had also struggled with while nursing Lucy. He reminded me so much of Oliver as a baby. I will always remember that week as one of the best of my life. <br />
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We called on Thursday to get Max's first orthopedic appointment. Jay called, because I just couldn't bring myself to do it. We scheduled his first appointment for the following Monday. Max would be 8 days old- the same age as Oliver when he got his first casts. I had really hoped we could wait until later in the week because I just did not feel up to doing it just yet. I so wanted more time with my baby. <br />
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Scheduling that appointment hit me like a ton of bricks. It was like a hard slap back into reality that THIS was soon to be our reality. Not leisurely days on the couch snuggling my baby all the time. Soon Jay would be going back to work, I would be handling three little ones, getting Oliver to and from preschool three days a week, and making weekly trips to Indianapolis which is about 2 hours away. Deep breath...here we go.<br />
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The same day that we called to get his appointment I was supposed to have my home visit with the nurse from the birthing center where I had Max. Due to some scheduling conflicts, the nurse called that day and wasn't able to come. I was soooo disappointed that she couldn't come that day. It had me in tears. My midwife called in the early evening to talk about what had happened, and I tried to talk through my tears about how sad I was. I told her that I knew I was acting rather irrationally; that given normal circumstances I would not have been that upset about not seeing the nurse. It was just an emotional day and I felt sad about not being checked on and having our visit. I had no ill feelings towards anyone for the visit not happening; it really was just a manifestation of all the feelings that I was now facing when our clubfoot reality was coming true.<br />
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Just like she did during my pregnancy, my midwife listened and talked with me while I processed over the phone with her how I was feeling. I got off the phone feeling much better, and she offered to be there anytime I needed to call or text her to talk about things. Seriously, she is an amazing care provider.<br />
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On Friday (the next day) Max had his first check-up. Our family doctor had never had a baby born at the birthing center and wanted to get him checked out soon after he was born, so we got in when Max was 5 days old. I had been worried that he wasn't eating enough because of how quickly he nursed. Thankfully we found out that he was 8 lbs, 12 oz! He was born at 8 lbs 5 oz so that was awesome to find out. Our doctor took a look at Max's foot and said he was glad that we had chosen to go to Dr. Kayes for Max's treatment; he felt like Dr. Kayes was the best in the state that we could have chosen. Later that day, we had our home visit with the nurse and that went well.<br />
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We also took newborn pictures that day. They turned out so amazing. The same photographer that was there to photograph his birth also took his newborn pictures and she did an amazing job. Jennifer Jones of No Other Love Photography is so talented and a dear friend. During some pictures with Max, I teared up and could barely contain the emotions. I had had so much anxiety about his birth, about his foot, and now he was here and he was amazing. Despite all that we were going to go through, we had had a wonderful first week together. I was so, so blessed.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight hidden_elem" height="320" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/p206x206/1017125_10202335074282291_1381194125_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>His precious foot. I specifically asked Jennifer to make sure to get some shots of his foot so we can always remember from where he started.</i></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight hidden_elem" height="320" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/p206x206/1379308_10202335074842305_555805174_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I just love this shot. Holding those precious feet in my hands.</i></td></tr>
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That weekend I truly dreaded Monday. It didn't seem possible that my baby would soon be in a cast. I just kept thinking, "This can't be real...didn't I already do this once? Oh yes, I did..." I worried about how Max would do on the ride down. I worried about how Oliver and Lucy (particularly Lucy) would do being away from me each week for an entire day when I was so used to being with them all the time. I worried about how I would feel traveling so soon after having a baby, despite feeling like my recovery was going extremely well. I worried, and I worried, and I worried...<br />
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And I prayed. Oh how I prayed. I begged God to make this whole thing go away. I prayed that Max would take to the castings easily. I prayed for Him to heal my heart that was shattering in a million pieces every time I thought about it. <br />
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I fought with God. I was confused and hurt that He hadn't "fixed" this before Max was born. How awesome would it be to be able to tell people that despite numerous ultrasounds and doctor confirmations, my baby had, in fact, not been born with clubfoot? What a great testimony that could have been! I realized that that was not God's plan, but I wasn't happy about it.<br />
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Because of how great I was feeling, we decided to go to church that weekend. Max was only one week old. I wanted to go and feel "filled up" before making the trip for his first appointment. And I wanted to pray with our pastor and others. During the alter call, we took Max down to the front to pray. Our pastor came down from the stage and asked us to sit down and he wanted to pray after the service with us. I thought that sounded nice, but had no idea what to expect, exactly.<br />
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After the service ended, our Pastor gathered several people to have them pray with us. Because there was going to be a meeting after service with many people from our congregation, there ended up being a LOT of people praying for us. Our pastor annointed Max's foot with oil and prayed heaven down over him. It was absolutely incredible.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/1385406_10101497306981808_494449829_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>We are BLESSED by an incredible church family.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight hidden_elem" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/p206x206/1378723_10101497307196378_142662993_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Praying over that little foot. </i></td></tr>
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The prayers were so powerful and intense that I honestly thought Max's foot may turn straight right then and there. But it didn't...Again, this was not God's plan.<br />
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On Sunday night we took footprints of Max's feet. With Oliver's feet, we had done footprints with paint onto a canvas each time we took his casts off. Since we weren't going to be taking Max's casts off at home, we decided we still wanted to do something similar but easier for me to take to appointments. We decided to do ink prints onto cardstock each time and we would frame those.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/1377629_10101497336422808_1400177657_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Getting ready to do his footprint. This little baby slept all the time!</i></td></tr>
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The night before his first appointment was very hard. I was a mess. I couldn't even think about it without crying. The morning of his appointment was hard as well. It was my first morning alone with all three kids and I had to get Oliver ready and out the door to preschool. Then I had to come home and get myself ready and Lucy ready. My mother-in-law picked Lucy up and Jay got home from work shortly afterwards. I was so, so thankful that he was able to take time off to go to Max's first appointment.<br />
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On the way down I could barely look at the clock. I just kept thinking, "In less than two hours, my baby is going to have his cast on....In less than one hour, Max is going to have the cast on." It was gut wrenching to count down like that but I just couldn't seem to help it. As we got closer Jay took my hand and kept reassuring me that it was all going to be okay. I wanted to believe him but my heart was hurting so badly. I just could not grasp that we were going through this again. How was it that I had two babies born with something like this that needed fixed?<br />
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My dad works in a town not far from the hospital where Max goes for his appointments, so he came to meet us. He sat with us in the waiting room beforehand and waited til we were done to see us afterwards. It was so surreal, sitting there waiting. Here I had my baby with his cute leg and foot completely out in the open where I could touch and see it. As soon as they called us back, it would start the process, and when we came back out to that waiting room, his leg would be in a cast. Just surreal.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight hidden_elem" height="400" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/p206x206/536838_10101497337585478_111339081_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>He certainly wasn't worried. :-) I asked Jay to take this specific picture because I have a very similar one of me holding Oliver before his first appointment.</i></td></tr>
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My stomach was in knots the whole time. They called us back and had us take Max's clothes off so that they could weigh him. He weighed 9.3 lbs- he had gained even more over the weekend! We went and waited for Dr. Kayes to come back. It was such an awkward wait. Max was getting hungry; do I nurse him now? What if the doctor walks in right as I start to feed him and I need to stop? Was he really hungry or was I just wanting to make sure he wasn't hungry during the casting? Should I wait until afterwards so that he ate as soon to leaving as possible so he wasn't hungry on the way home? I hated dealing with stuff like this.<br />
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Dr. Kayes came in and it was nice to see him again. He remembered us from the summer when we came for our consultation and remembered that we had brought Oliver with us. I thought that was nice. As soon as he walked in, though, it was like, "No, no, no, you can't have him. Don't come in yet. It can't be time." He and his PA quickly got things set up. We laid Max on the table and it was like flash backs from Oliver. My baby laying on the table, me sitting and leaning over next to him, and Jay beside me. I immediately teared up at the memory and at my current reality. I felt like I could puke.<br />
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Dr. Kayes took a look at Max's foot and decided that instead of doing a dramatic turn of his foot (Oliver's had been turned a LOT at his first casting), he first wanted to get his toes in line and smooth out some creases that were on the bottom of his foot. I was able to breathe a little easier after that, knowing that Max wasn't going to feel that turning of his foot right away. Dr. Kayes said that in the end, it may add one more cast to the whole process but that it would be easier on Max. I was all for that.<br />
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Before I knew it, they had my baby's leg wrapped in cotton gauze and they were applying the plaster. It just didn't seem right. His leg had JUST been free and open for me to play with and love on. It seemed so quick that it was then covered up. Max fussed just a little bit but took a pacifier dipped in sugar water. He actually handled the casting quite well, and because of that, I did too. I only shed a couple of tears. Dr. Kayes commented that Max was doing well when Max then pooped on the table. Haha! Everyone got a chuckle out of that.<br />
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And then it was done. My baby had a big, heavy plaster cast on his leg. Dr. Kayes thanked us for coming down, and said that most babies have 4-8 casts before the tenotomy and we could be able to tell in a couple of weeks how he was responding. He told us that we could expect about 24 hours of fussiness or so, but if it got bad or went on for longer than that to give them a call. He told us to keep an eye on his toes to make sure that the circulation was good. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/1377304_10101497342505618_600243790_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It's finished.</i></td></tr>
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All I could think afterwards was, "It's finished." What really surprised me was how normal it felt to hold a baby with a cast. I remember how horribly awkward it was to hold Oliver after he was casted. He also had casts on both legs which made a difference. But still...holding Max with a cast on did not feel all that strange. For me, having a newborn with leg casts wasn't all that strange. When that reality hit me, I wanted to cry my eyes out all over again. How unfair that this seemed normal.<br />
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Max adjusted well to the cast. He was unsettled that first night but didn't seem to have nearly the pain that I expected. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/988312_10101497346168278_1513316122_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My handsome little guy in his tiny cast.</i></td></tr>
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My sweet boy had a cast on his leg. My heart ached to see his foot and his leg again, to feel him curl up on my chest. It was hard to get used to diaper changes with one leg casted, and getting him in his car seat was hard. I cried putting him in his car seat after his appointment.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/1383512_10101497343448728_1968011121_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Getting him in his car seat was enough to make me cry. It was so hard to do.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I felt so sorry for him. How horribly strange that must be for an 8 day old infant to suddenly have his leg immobilized by this big heavy cast. I hated the look of it. <br />
<br />
I remember walking back out to the waiting room after his appointment in a strange state of mind. Hadn't we just been out here moments earlier with a baby without a cast? Yes, we had. In just a few short minutes things seemed to change so much. It seemed strange to come back out with a baby in a cast. My dad was waiting for us, and I didn't have a lot to say other than "Here he is." My mind was numb and I was emotionally exhausted. That feeling would remain after every appointment and turn into a physical exhaustion soon enough.<br />
<br />
Sometimes it feels odd to show someone my baby who has a leg cast on, yet...I've already been through this. It isn't so strange after all. I feel like that is the constant that has stayed with me during this time of Max's casting. Something that should be so different-- it is and it isn't. The fact that it isn't makes me crazy some days. I fight and I fight and I fight with the fact that WE HAVE ALREADY DONE THIS. That sentiment screams in my mind on a daily basis. <br />
<br />Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-18299208576531066122013-11-27T13:00:00.000-08:002013-11-27T13:00:06.068-08:00Introducing Max!Finally! I am finally getting on to post Max's birth story. Our sweet baby boy was born September 29, 2013 and is now 8 weeks old. (How did that happen?) I have been wanting to blog since he was born and it has just been a crazy eight weeks. Max is an amazing little baby, but has fussy times at night- usually right after the older kids go to bed, so getting on the computer just doesn't really happen. <br />
<br />
Max has had 6 regular casts and just had his tenotomy 2 days ago. I will post as soon as I can about his progress and how everything has gone. Its been a totally different experience than what we went through with Oliver.<br />
<br />
So finally...Max's birth story!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
On Sunday, September 29, 2013 Jay and I welcomed our third baby into
the world. A precious baby boy, Max Christopher was born at 12:25 pm
weighing 8 lbs 5 oz and measuring 20 inches long.<br />
<br />
This
was going to be my second natural birth. With our first child, I had had
a typical OB hospital birth experience. I was induced at 37 weeks 2
days due to high blood pressure (not pre-eclampsia) and had an epidural
that did not work well. Afterwards, I gained so much faith in my body
and decided to go a different route for my second birth. During my
second pregnancy, I switched from my OB to a midwife when I realized I
did not want to have to fight for the birth I wanted. I was almost 34
weeks pregnant when I switched and it was one of the best decisions of
my life. I had a lovely natural hospital birth. My midwife with my
second birth has become a dear friend of mine. She switched jobs after
my daughter, Lucy, was born, and the day I found out she would not be my
midwife for any future babies I cried! Thankfully, I found another
wonderful midwife for my third pregnancy and birth. This would be my
first out of hospital birth at a freestanding birthing center, and I
couldn't wait.<br />
<br />
My pregnancy with Max was unlike either
of my previous pregnancies. The first couple of weeks reminded me a
lot of my first pregnancy with smells bothering me, sickness especially
at night, and sore breasts. I began to think "<i>hmm, maybe another boy?</i>"
Over the weeks, however, many of those symptoms faded except for the
sickness which lasted all day for weeks. I had hoped that if it was
going to follow my first pregnancy I would get past the morning sickness
by around week 10 or so just like I did before. No such luck! I was
continuing to feel nauseated and would throw up well past the halfway
mark in my pregnancy. I remember the week of my big ultrasound (23
weeks) I had just started to feel good. At that point, I was thinking, <i>"Well, maybe its actually a girl!"</i> since I was also so sick when I was carrying Lucy.<br />
<br />
Just
as I started to get past the sickness, I had my ultrasound that
revealed we were having another baby expected to have clubfoot. (And we
were having a boy!) Our first child, Oliver, had been born with
bilateral (both feet) clubfoot in 2008. We had been through this once,
and that did not provide a bit of comfort. Instead, it made me realize
how hard this was going to be. This wrecked me in ways that I was not
prepared for. Despite my strong Christian faith, I was angry at God for
giving us this challenge. I felt like I went from being sick all the
time to being a mess over how we were going to take care of this baby
and his foot. The doctor that we had used for Oliver's clubfeet and
absolutely loved was no longer practicing; I also found that out the day
of my ultrasound. I spent the next 2 months losing countless hours of
sleep as I worried about what we were going to do. I researched like a
crazy person for a new doctor. The weight of the care our son needed
burdened me and, admittedly, stole a lot of the joy from my pregnancy. I
have always enjoyed being pregnant, but this time I did not. I feel
awful admitting that but it is true. On top of everything else, this
pregnancy was extremely painful for me. I had many symptoms of SPD,
where just walking was excruciating and by the end of the day I would
often just break down in tears as to how much pain I was in just from
doing the bare minimum of everyday activities. In previous pregnancies,
I was uncomfortable of course. But this time I was really affected by
the pain and had to stop doing things very early on. At one point Jay
asked me if I still wanted to have more children after this, and I
replied, "Let me first forget how horrible this pregnancy has been."<br />
<br />
Despite
the physical pain, and emotional and mental anguish of preparing for
another clubfoot baby, I did not wish away the pregnancy. In fact,
there were times when I was panicked about how quickly it was going by.
At one appointment with my midwife, I was waiting back in the room and I
realized that soon I would be going to every week appointments. I got
out my phone, opened the calendar, and literally counted three times to
make sure I was in fact that far along. It couldn't be possible! I was
so worried about how I was going to handle travelling for Max's
treatment since I knew Jay would not be able to go with me each time. I
worried about having a newborn in the house again. There were times I
literally felt scared of this baby I was carrying. Lucy, while
absolutely precious and wonderful, was a *very* difficult newborn. The
days, weeks, and months after she was born were some of the hardest
times I can remember since we have had children. I was really worried
about making it through those infant days and actually enjoying him.
People would ask me if I was ready, or getting excited, as I approached
my due date. I smiled and said yes, of course. I really didn't want to
admit to anyone how scared I was of adding a third child.<br />
<br />
I
spent many, many appointments with my wonderful midwife, Kori,
processing all of these feelings. I worried that my fears would inhibit
my labor. After all, while I was still carrying him, I didn't have to
deal with the clubfoot. I didn't have to deal with the doctor
appointments and the travel. I didn't have to worry about the insane
sleep deprivation I experienced in the past with a baby who just
would.not.sleep. Ever. I just had to talk it out over and over again.
Although my midwife and I had known each other before this pregnancy (I
had been a doula for two of her other clients), it was during these
appointments that I truly felt like she switched from being just my care
provider to being my friend. I will forever be thankful for her
patience and kindness to me during this time. There truly is a
difference in midwifery care.<br />
<br />
During the last 3 weeks
or so of my pregnancy, I had been having sporadic contractions.
Although I knew that none of them were "real" labor contractions, they
certainly were painful. Some of them would wake me up at night or keep
me from falling asleep in the first place. None of the painless
tightening contractions that I had felt during the end of my second
pregnancy. These contractions hurt. I strongly felt as though I would
have the baby early, well before my due date. There was just no way,
with all of the contractions and the SPD pain, that I could possibly
make it to my due date. I kept reminding myself that babies don't have a
calendar and they will certainly come when they are ready. But darn it
all, I was in SO much pain. I could barely stand the thought of waking
up pregnant for many more days. I was nesting like mad. I threw away
so many bags of stuff, donated countless items, and scrubbed the heck
out of our house. <br />
<br />
By 39 weeks, I was sure that I
would have the baby any day now. I just "knew". It was also around
this time that one evening something really "clicked" with me and I
suddenly felt a complete and total peace about the baby coming. It was
so sudden and so intense. I was laying in bed one night, and suddenly I
had this strong memory of laying in bed with Oliver as a baby,
snuggling up to him and pressing my face into that sweet spot of a
newborn's neck. Rubbing my cheek against his soft baby cheeks. The
memory was so vivid that it brought me to tears, and suddenly, I was
excited. All of a sudden, I could not wait to hold my baby. I wanted
to meet him so very badly. <i><b>I was ready</b></i>.<br />
<br />
I
really hadn't expected to have that peace until I met my baby, so when I
felt that around week 39, I thought he would be born any day. Sure
enough, though, I made it to my due date. My 40 week appointment was on
Monday, the day before my due date. I asked to have my cervix checked
for the first time as I was curious if I had made any progress. When I
had my first check on my due date during my second pregnancy, I was 3
cms with a bulging water sack. I was hoping I was about the same this
time. It was very painful to be checked, and I found out I was about
2-3 cms and 30% effaced, but my cervix was still high. Meh. I knew it
didn't mean much; I could go on for a week or more like that, or I could
go into labor that night. I really wanted to have a September baby,
but I still had a week for that to happen. I decided against having my
membranes stripped at that point because I just didn't feel like it
would do much. I was having no significant labor signs.<br />
<br />
With
Lucy's pregnancy, I had that first check on my due date, I went into
labor that night, and had her the next morning. I'll admit, I kind of
expected the same thing to happen this time. Of course, it didn't.
Over the course of the next couple of days after my appointment I began
to lose a lot of discharge. Every time I would go to the bathroom, I
would check to see if I was having any sort of bloody show. That was
one of my first labor signs with Lucy, but I didn't have that at all
with Max. I was starting to get really impatient. <br />
<br />
Wednesday
night I went to bed, having contractions as usual, and woke up around 3
am to a painful contraction. This pain was different. It was an all
over sensation that really got my attention. Oliver had come into my
bed at some point, and I was trying to deal with the contractions
without waking him up. All I wanted to do was get up and move around,
or take a shower, or something, but I knew that if this was it, I needed
to rest. I was tired, so I would drift off in between contractions
that were coming anywhere from 5-10 mins apart. As soon as a
contraction would hit, it was like my body would come "alive". That is
the only word I could think of during the pain. I would go from being
sleepy and out of it to being extremely aware of every sensation in my
body. This went on for about two hours. I texted Jay at work to let
him know that I would most likely be needing him to come home, that I
thought I was in labor and if this continued I would need help once the
kids were awake.<br />
<br />
The next thing I knew, I woke up and it was 7 am. Two hours had passed, and my contractions had gone away. <i>"Damn it!" </i>was
all I could think. I couldn't believe it. I called my mom and was in
tears over how exhausted I was. She and my dad ended up coming up from
Indy for the day to help with the kids. I spent the afternoon in my
bedroom. I spent time on my hands and knees and doing various positions
to try to get baby in a good position in case that was why my labor
hadn't really kicked in the previous night. I really wanted to go to the
chiropractor, but had absolutely no energy or desire to leave the
house. I slept for awhile, and when I woke up later that afternoon I
had some more contractions. I ate dinner that night, a meal from
Casa's, and ended up throwing it all back up. Gross. I called my
midwife to give her a heads up about the night before and that maybe the
contractions I was feeling would get going once the kids were in bed
for the night.<br />
<br />
No such luck. I woke up the next
morning still pregnant. I got the kids ready for the day and my
mother-in-law came and got Oliver to take him to preschool and took Lucy
for the day. My parents had spent the night so that I didn't have to
drive up to Auburn for my prenatal appointment by myself. We left early
so that I could eat a big breakfast that was required before my
ultrasound. They were going to do a biophysical profile to check on the
baby. <br />
<br />
Everything looked perfect on the ultrasound. I
had never had an ultrasound so late in my pregnancy (obviously, since I
had never gone past my due date), and I was amazed at how big he looked
on the screen. His face looked so real, so full, so precious! He had
his hand up by his face and it was incredible to see him. I was even
more excited to meet this sweet little baby.<br />
<br />
I decided
to be checked again. I wanted to know if the contractions I had had
that week, as well as some of the discharge I had experienced, had
helped me make any progress. Sure enough I was 4 cms, 70% effaced, and
my cervix was lower and more in the front than the Monday earlier that
week. In fact, the exam was barely even uncomfortable. Because of
that, I asked her to strip my membranes. In some ways, I'm kind of
surprised I did that. It tends to go against my whole "wait it out"
mentality, but really, I was just so done. I knew there was a
possibility it wouldn't do anything, and I was ok with that. But if it
helped things along with what I had already experienced, well ok then. <br />
<br />
Its
funny when I look back at my last two pregnancies, labors, and
deliveries. Both were natural births with a midwife. But the first
time I did it this way, I really wanted to do things MY way which really
meant "nothing like what an OB does". I felt like I had to prove
to...myself? others? I dont really know...that birth didnt have to be
anything like what we hear. A woman doesn't have to have all of these
vaginal exams. They didn't need to have an IV during labor. They don't
have to do xyz to have a baby. But this last time, I didn't feel that
need to prove anything. If I wanted to have my cervix checked, I was
going to do it. If I wanted to have my membranes stripped, I was going
to do it and not worry about how anyone might judge that. I was truly
taking control over my own experience.<br />
<br />
Friday night
after my appointment, we went to my in-laws for dinner and to drop
Oliver off for his regular Friday night sleepover with his cousins. I
couldn't eat much, and again I was having regular contractions every 10
mins. They weren't extremely painful, but they certainly got my
attention and they reminded me of early labor with Lucy. By the time we
were ready to go, I had to stop while putting Lucy in her carseat to
work through one of them. Hmm, I thought, this could be good. I
expected to get her to sleep and then have things really pick up.<br />
<br />
Sure
enough, after about 3 hours of having contractions, they stopped.
Again. I was frustrated and tired and fairly certain I was going to be
pregnant forever. I was irrationally upset that I was certainly NOT
going to have the September baby I had hoped for. I got a decent
night's sleep that night, but I was so uncomfortable and worn down the
next day that it didn't seem to matter much. <br />
<br />
Saturday
night I desperately wanted to get out of the house for awhile. We
considered going to the grocery store, but it was already about 6:00 by
the time we got ready and we didn't really want to keep the kids up late
that night. Jay was also worried that I would go into labor while we
were shopping in Fort Wayne, and then we'd have to come home, get the
kids ready to go to my ILs, etc etc. He worried that since I was
already 4 cms that things would go quickly. (Actually, I had tons of
people tell me during that last week about how they had had nights of
contractions similar to mine, and then once labor started, BAM. It was
quick and intense and over with in just a couple of hours.) I scoffed
at his concern about a fast labor, because, after all, I was going to be
pregnant forever. I was even getting annoyed thinking about all of my
friends who had gone into labor and had their babies before their due
dates.<br />
<br />
We ended up just going for a short walk, and
I commented about halfway through that I was really glad we had decided
to skip on the grocery trip. Just the amount of walking we were doing
was painful and almost too much for me at that point. We came home and
got the kids ready for bed, and Jay asked me if tonight was the night I
would have the baby. I snapped at him something like, "Yeah, how would I
know". (Sorry, sweetie!) I was irritated about everything at that
point and knew I wouldn't have faith in my contractions if they did in
fact start up.<br />
<br />
During the last few weeks of my labor, I
really needed time at night to be by myself. I didn't want any
company, I just wanted alone time in my room to get into my "zone". I
spent a lot of time praying, talking to Max, and focusing on good labor
and delivery thoughts. I read Peggy Vincent's "Baby Catcher" book,
especially the story where she talks about the clubfoot baby. That
night I did those same things, all the while sitting on my birth ball.
Bounce, bounce, bounce. Roll my hips. Willing, begging, pleading for
labor to start. I was facebook messaging with a friend of mine. I had
been her doula for her last delivery, so she is one of those "anything
goes" friends. Around midnight, I had to pee, so I got up off of my
ball, and I literally felt something fall out of me. I went to the
bathroom, and passed a HUGE glob of mucus plug. I told my friend about
it, and we both thought that maybe I was going to have this baby soon.
Then again, maybe it was just wishful thinking.<br />
<br />
Sure
enough, though, it wasn't long at all after I passed the mucus plug that
contractions started. Holy crap. These HURT. They were coming every 5
minutes or so and lasting over a minute. I still had a hard time
believing they were going to stick around, but something in me told me
that this was probably it. I tried to rest but it was impossible. I
double-checked everything in my bags and made sure the kids had clothes
ready for the next day. I got the bags around and headed downstairs
where Jay was. I told him I thought I was in labor but was trying to
wait and see what happened. <br />
<br />
At 1:40 am I called
my doula to let her know what was going on. I wasn't ready for her to
come or anything, but I was pretty positive that I'd be needing her that
night. I felt calm and in control. As I was up doing things, my
contractions got much closer, every two and a half minutes or so, but
not lasting as long, maybe 45 seconds. I started to get confused as to
what was going on, and decided to call my midwife. She asked me if
there was any reason why I felt like this wasn't real labor, and I said
my doubts were mainly because of the other nights I had had contractions
start and then stop. I didn't want to call everyone and get to the
birth center and then have to go home and waste anyone's time. She told
me I didn't need to worry about that; if it happened, it happened. I
told her about the strange pattern, and she suggested that I take 30
minutes and put my phone away (I was timing them with a contraction
timing app) and just relax. I agreed that this was a good idea as I was
starting to go nuts with timing them. I told her I would take the next
half hour and then decide what seemed best after that. I put away my
phone, set the kitchen timer for 30 minutes, and sat on my birth ball,
and watched a funny TV show with Jay. After the timer went off, I
decided to see what was going on with my contractions and had Jay start
timing them again. They were back to every 5 minutes lasting about a
minute. Around 3 am I decided this was it. <br />
<br />
I had
a list of people I needed to call. I called my mom, because she lives
about two hours from the birthing center and it was important for me
that she was there. I called my doula back and let her know this was
it! We decided she would just meet me at the birthing center. Jay
called his parents to come over and stay with the kids so that we didn't
have to get them out of bed. I called my midwife back and let her know
this was it, and that once my in-laws came we would be leaving. I
called my birth photographer so that she could meet us at our house and
follow us to the center. This was really happening!<br />
<br />
I
really don't remember the time between calling people and leaving.
Contractions were already taking all of my attention and I just wanted
to get the 45 minute drive to Auburn out of the way. I grabbed a towel
to sit on in the van just in case my water broke. I decided to sit in
the very back row so that I could lay down or move around more if I
needed to. Once everyone got to the house I remember Jay filling his
parents in on what they needed to know, and me telling Jennifer (my
birth photographer) that the contractions were about every 5 minutes. I
walked out of the house in the middle of Jay telling his parents
something because I just couldn't be around anyone during a contraction.<br />
<br />
The
drive to the center was as bad as I expected. I knew my contractions
were still about every 5 minutes, and occasionally I would notice the
time and start to dread when I expected another one to hit. Every bump
on the road felt awful and I was remembering why I wanted a home birth-
to avoid the drive!! I was cursing the stupid fair that Auburn had going
on that meant we had a detour in town and the drive was even longer.
Once we got to the stoplight by the hospital, I remember thinking that I
only had enough time left before we got to the center to have one more
contraction. Thank goodness. <br />
<br />
We got to Auburn
Birthing Center sometime after 4 am, and as soon as we were parked in
the garage I said, "Get me out of here" and quickly climbed out of the
van. I remember seeing something in the garage labelled "Precipitous
Birth Kit" or something like that. Another contraction hit and I
thought, "I'm so glad I made it here to labor at the birth center, but
I'm so jealous that some moms are already done when they get here!"<br />
<br />
I
went inside and saw my doula and my midwife. It was so quiet and
peaceful. I could tell that I already felt so comfortable; there was no
"re-adjusting" to my new space to feel "safe" again like when I was in
the hospital. This was exactly where I wanted to be and I was so
thankful for the chance to be there. My contractions were coming
regularly, about every 5 minutes, and lasting 45 seconds. In between
contractions I settled into the room I had chosen beforehand (the
"circle room", appropriately named because of its decorations). Despite
my intentions to walk around the birth center and labor other places,
once I settled into this room I didn't leave until after he was born.
As soon as I sat on the edge of the bed to talk to my midwife, a
contraction hit and I went down onto my hands and knees on the floor to
cope through it. <br />
<br />
I asked to be examined and it
was determined that I was 6 cm, 100% effaced, and baby was at 0
station. I asked Kori to remind me what the stations meant, and she
explained to me that he was in line with my pelvis, but not to worry too
much about the details. I remember being thrilled that I was 6 cms.
Only 4 left to go! Surely I would hit transition soon and it wouldn't be
long. I started to worry that my parents may not make it there in
time. I sent my mom a text updating her and she sent one back saying to
tell baby Max to slow down. Yeah right, I thought! I sent one back
saying, "Tell Dad to hurry up!!" I had worship music playing and my
doula was helping me by doing hip squeezes and other things to help me
during contractions.<br />
<br />
Around 5 am I made my way into the
tub. I was hesitant to get in too early because the water had slowed
my labor down with Lucy. But the thought of being in the water sounded
so good. I wanted a water birth, but had also wanted that with Lucy,
and was ok with doing whatever felt right at the time. Sure enough, the
water just did not feel right. Contractions seemed to slow down, and I
wasn't going to wait and see what happened this time. I felt sick to
my stomach and almost threw up. At that point, I was done with the tub
and wanted out. Getting in and out of that huge tub was such a pain. As
soon as I got out I was so cold and shaking uncontrollably. I hadn't
completely ruled out the idea of using the tub again at some point that
night, but the thought of dealing with the shaking in case I wanted out
again made up my mind. No more tub.<br />
<br />
My parents arrived
just before 6 am. I was out of the tub and laying on my left side. I
remember someone putting a blanket or sheet or something over me to
cover me when my dad walked in to say hello and I shoved it aside.
Someone explained that my dad was in the room and they were just
covering me up a bit and I said, "I do not care!! Get it off of me!" I
soon asked for another check. For some reason, knowing my dilation was
really important to me this time. I found out I was 7.5 cms and baby
was still at 0 station.<br />
<br />
I was determined to push this
along if I could. At this point I have to rely heavily on my doula's
notes because I don't remember much of this. I was very tired from the
lack of sleep in the overnight hours, but I pressed on trying different
positions to encourage labor progress. I tried hands and knees and
alternated that with side-lying. Jay showed me some pictures of Oliver
and Lucy on my phone. I also used the birth stool. Jay rubbed my back
and held my hand. Amber, my doula, applied pressure on different places
on my lower back and hips. The contractions continued to be so very
intense. I didn't want anyone joking or talking to me during a
contraction, and I remember feeling like it was never going to end. I
just wanted to go home. It seemed as though I was having signs of
transition. The one bad thing (for me) about having a lot of knowledge
about birth is that I found myself frequently analyzing my labor in an
attempt to figure out where I was at and how much longer it would last.
Did contractions seem to be getting closer together? Did I feel like
giving up? Was this transition, which meant pushing would be soon? I
was feeling a lot more pressure and thought surely I was making a lot of
progress. I was scared of pushing against a cervical lip like I had
experienced during Lucy's labor, so I asked for yet another exam. At
7:55 am I had another check that showed I was still 7.5 cms.<br />
<br />
I
see why exams can be both good and bad. It was so discouraging to hear
that I had not made any progress in dilation. I had experienced all of
those horribly painful contractions and yet I was still 7.5 cms. I
talked some with my doula, who asked what was going on in my mind. I
told her I was just so tired, and so ready to be done. I felt like it
was never going to end. I really wasn't having any problems "releasing"
my baby to be born; mentally I was very ready. The worry that dealing
with his clubfoot may inhibit my labor did not actually happen. My
labor was just so very slow. Hearing that I had not progressed took me
off the ledge that I was on of extreme pain and brought me back to
reality to "ok, I need to figure out how to deal with these
contractions." Kori offered to break my water but I declined. My mom
was sitting next to me and I told her I really did not want my water
broken. In between contractions my midwife asked if there was a
specific reason why I didn't want that done. In all the talking I had
done with her during my prenatal appointments, I had never gotten around
to telling her that that was one thing I had regretted from Lucy's
labor. I really wanted to experience what it was like to have my water
break on its own. Kori said she did not feel that breaking my water
would necessarily speed things up that much anyway, and that was all I
needed to hear to know I definitely did not want it done.<br />
<br />
At
8:30 am I decided I needed time just with Jay. I felt badly, but I
kicked everyone else out of the room. I desperately needed rest. And
similarly to how I needed that quiet time during my pregnancy to just
get in my zone with Max, I now needed to do that again. Kori had
reminded me at some point that I needed to stop fighting my body and
welcome the contractions (I had started saying "Nooo, no no no not
again" during contractions because of the pain). I knew she was right,
and part of me felt guilty for acting that way! I've been on the other
side, as a doula, and know that women go through a wide range of actions
and emotions during labor. I've been able to let go of that guilt this
time; after Lucy's birth it took me weeks to process how I acted during
labor and get over the embarrassment I felt.<br />
<br />
Being
alone was exactly what I needed. I knew that people were waiting on me,
but that was ok. Kori had given me the option of either walking around
the center and trying some various things to progress labor, or laying
down and resting. It is hard to describe, because in my mind I was
already up and walking around and laboring elsewhere. But it was like
my body was absolutely drawn to that bed. I wish I could say I had made
the conscious decision to labor in bed for awhile, but I made no such
decision. It was made for me. I knew that in order to complete this
task of birthing my baby, I had to lay down and rest. I absolutely had
to. I had no idea how long I would lay there, but the choice truly was
made for me by my body's need for rest. We turned off my music, and
everyone left. The support I felt with everyone in the room was
wonderful, but with each contraction I just became over-stimulated. I
felt the pain, I felt everyone's touch, I was praying in my mind, I was
analyzing my labor. It was just too much.<br />
<br />
I laid on
my sides with pillows between my legs. The pain was so incredibly
intense. Its crazy how a woman's body can handle that sort of pain. I
kept thinking, "This is never going to end. If only I knew what time he
was going to be born, I could see an end to this. But I can't. There is
no end to this pain." But I took Kori's advice of welcoming the
contractions, realizing that each one was bringing my baby to me.
Believe it or not, I actually was able to smile during some of my
contractions! Granted, Jay was next to me asleep and no one else was in
the room, so maybe I wasn't smiling. But it sure felt like it. I began
to think, "Yes, Max. Come to me. Do what you..." and at some point the
thought trailed off into the haze of pain. At some point earlier in my
labor I had started to panic because it was so hard to breathe during a
contraction, and my doula reminded me that yes, I could breathe and to
breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Oh my goodness,
that helped so much! While I was laying there resting, I would feel a
contraction come on and I would breathe in through my nose and out
through my mouth. In my mind I was picturing this circle of breath
coming into my body and leaving. I had my hands together, fingers
intertwined, and would feel my hands tightening up. I desperately tried
to relax because even my fingers felt the pain of the contractions.
Surely this had to end soon because my body couldn't continue to handle
it. During contractions I could feel the baby moving down. I couldn't
hold back as my body would push him down. I could tell these weren't
actual pushes, because as I would start to push, it was like the baby
would hit a wall and it would get extremely painful, and I would have to
back off. But I knew things were happening.<br />
<br />
Kori
continued to check on me every once in awhile and listen to the baby.
He sounded great, and she assured me that as long as I was okay with
labor progressing this way that I was doing fine. I certainly wasn't ok
with labor progressing so slowly, but again, I really didn't feel like I
had a choice in the matter. I absolutely needed that rest.<br />
<br />
At
10:10 another check showed that I was 8-9 cm. I asked my doula to come
join me again as I was having some really bad back pain. I've never
felt such tightening and horrible pain in my back. It didn't go away
between contractions but it certainly intensified during them. I could
no longer lay on my side. Amber used massage as I went back into hands
and knees position to try to relieve some of the back pain. I tried
laying over the birth ball as well and that felt awful. My arms were
tired so I went back to the birth stool. At one point I had to hold onto
the sides of the birth stool and lock my arms, basically lifting myself
up because I couldn't stand the pressure of sitting. My doula asked if
having my arms that way helped, and again, I felt as though it was just
something I had to do. After awhile, I was able to relax them. Jay
supported me from behind, and being able to lay back onto him was so
comforting. Amber was in front of me, holding my hands. There was
something very tender and sweet about just being able to reach out and
hold a friend's hand during the pain. I felt extremely loved and
supported during the entire process. I had some birth affirmation cards
with me, and Amber read scripture aloud. I rested in the knowledge
that God had created this entire birthing process and He does not make
mistakes. I could surely handle this because God had designed my body
to do this. Both of my natural labors and deliveries have been
extremely spiritual for me. I have had to rely on God's help to get me
through because I knew I couldn't do it on my own. It was an act of
obedience on my part to wait for my baby to come and to come into this
world in the way God had designed it. I don't know that other Christian
women feel this way, as this has just been a personal conviction of
mine.<br />
<br />
I was later told that I became very inward
and remained composed during contractions. Although I can see now that
that was true, its a very strange thing to be experiencing the worst
pain of your life and other people not necessarily realize it. I
remember Jay talking to me during one contraction and I could barely
speak but I managed to say, "Quiet, I'm contracting." All I could see,
feel, and sense was PAIN. How anyone else was functioning normally
around me without this pain was just incomprehensible. It was just so
consuming. At times I would cry out, moan, pray aloud, or grunt while
my body worked to push my baby down.<br />
<br />
At 11:23 am, I
felt a little "pop" as my water broke while sitting on the birth stool.
I had felt what I thought was a pop earlier in labor, but my water was
still intact after that one, so I wasn't really sure what this pop was.
Amber and I noticed some white "stuff" in the fluid that had leaked
while I was sitting on the birth stool, so she went and got Kori. Kori
thought it may have been some vernix and that my water had broken. <i>"Cool," </i>I thought,<i> "I got to experience my water breaking. But really, that was quite uneventful."</i> I expected a gush or something, but it was not very dramatic at all.<br />
<br />
I
kept saying that I felt like this would last forever, and even
apologized to Jay at some point. I told him I just wanted him to be
proud of me. He assured me that he was and that I was doing great. I
felt very connected to him during this labor, and it was a wonderful
bonding experience for us. <br />
<br />
I got off of the birth
stool and wanted to be back on my hands and knees. Again, this was a
position that I spent a lot of time in during my pregnancy to relieve
discomfort and it was my go-to position during labor as well. I pushed
for a few contractions while I leaned over the side of the bed. I
remember saying I felt a lot of pressure, and a lot in my bottom like I
had to poop. I knew that that was a good thing. I got back onto the
bed in hands and knees position and was pushing before I even realized
that I really <i>WAS</i> pushing. It was all just my body taking over and doing what it needed to do to get Max out. <br />
<br />
It
was time. My mom and Jennifer were still out of the room from when I
kicked everyone out earlier and suddenly, I was scared that everyone was
going to miss it. I kept saying I wanted Jennifer in there for
pictures, that she couldn't miss taking the pictures! I knew the baby
was coming, and soon, and yet it seemed like everyone else was remaining
calm and unhurried. I had a moment of panic that no one believed me
that this baby was coming NOW! Amber was on my left, fanning me with a
paper fan which felt amazing. Jay was on my right, and my mom was
behind me (I think). <br />
<br />
Now this is the part that I
definitely did not see coming or ever expected. During my pregnancy, I
had thought about how my dad would be there at the birthing center. I
had toyed with the idea that if I was in the tub having a water birth,
it might be neat for my dad to come into the room as Max was born so he
could experience the birth of one of his grandchildren. Well, I
obviously was not in the tub and yet just as Max was about to be born, I
decided I wanted my dad in there. I can't explain it. Here I am
giving birth and I want my dad in the room. I remember yelling for him
and he didn't come. Other people yelled for him and he got in the room
just in time. After the fact, part of me is somewhat embarrassed yet I
am still glad I did it. Anyone that knows me well knows that my dad and
I have had a lot of ups and downs in our relationship. It was very
special to me that he was part of Max's birth.<br />
<br />
My body
truly took over as I was pushing. I felt the stretching, and the
burning. At one point, I felt my body stretching and then I felt the
baby go back up. Ugh, no!!! I did not want to have an extremely long
pushing phase like I did with Lucy. But the next contraction I felt him
stay down, and I knew it wasn't going to be long before my baby was
born. My midwife encouraged me to do little pushes to decrease the
chance of me tearing, and my body immediately started to do little
"puffs" of breaths to slow down. Max's head was born, and unlike Lucy's
birth where her head, shoulders and body were quickly born all at once,
I had to wait for another contraction to push his body out. That felt
like forever!! Here I was on my hands and knees with his head out of me
and I had to wait. I couldn't see anything and everyone else was
talking about how his head was out. At one point it felt like he moved
and I practically yelled, "What is he doing?!" because it truly felt
like he was trying to crawl back inside of me. Kori laughed and said,
"He's yawning!" All I could think (and I believe someone actually said
this..Kori maybe? or me?) was, "Is he bored?!?" What the heck little
dude, you're halfway born and you're yawning?!? :)<br />
<br />
The
next contraction came and Max was born. I was still on my hands and
knees and could see him come down onto the bed, although because of the
position I was in it felt like he fell onto the bed. (My doula later
reassured me that it was in fact quite controlled the way he came down.)
I breathed a huge sigh of relief and reached down to pick up my baby.<br />
<br />
The
feeling of meeting my baby was absolutely incredible. There are truly
no words. Its that moment where all you can think is, "My baby is here!
I did it! Its over!" I was so extremely happy. I just wanted to laugh!
He was perfect. I learned that the cord had been wrapped twice around
his neck, but at no time during my labor did he show any signs of
distress. Thank goodness. I really can't imagine if I had had to
transport to the hospital. I truly feel that my labor was able to
progress and I was able to reach completion mainly because of the
peaceful environment I was in. It had been nearly 8 hours from when I
was first checked and I was 6 cms to when Max was finally born.<br />
<br />
There
were quite a few tears as we heard Max's first cry that just seemed to
go on and on. He was so perfect. I saw his foot, and instead of making
me sad, it was just part of who he was. The clubfoot may have stolen
joy from my pregnancy, but it stole nothing from my moment of meeting my
son. He was perfect, and he was ours.<br />
<br />
I just held
onto him as I was still there on my knees in the bed. I had no idea how
I was supposed to move out of that position, so thankfully others
helped me get turned around and settled. My placenta came out within 30
minutes of delivery and we waited to cut the cord. It was neat to see
the cord go completely white and limp as we waited for all of the blood
to be delivered to Max. Jay cut the cord and Kori bagged up my placenta
so that I could have it encapsulated. Shortly after he was born, the
birth assistant, a dear friend of mine, arrived. I was disappointed
that she had missed the actual birth but it was wonderful to see her and
spend time with her afterwards. That is one neat thing about being
involved in the local birth community - your birth team is composed of
some of your closest friends. Although I did have to laugh when she
helped to get a pad on me after the birth. How many of us have friends
that have lifted us up to put underwear on us, or helped check out if we
had a tear after childbirth?! Thankfully, I had just a minor first
degree tear that did not require any stitches. I was thrilled to hear
that! I had had second degree tears and stitches with both of my
previous deliveries.<br />
<br />
About an hour after Max was born
my in-laws arrived with Oliver and Lucy. It was a precious moment to
hear them come into the birthing center and know that they were going to
meet their baby brother. I was so glad that Jennifer stuck around and
got pictures of them meeting Max. So many wonderful memories.<br />
<br />
We
ended up sticking around the birth center for several hours after the
birth. I ate some food, rested, and visited with some close family.
Also, my midwife from Lucy's birth that I mentioned before came to visit
us. That was so special to see her and her daughter. It added another
memory to an already amazing day. Just about the time that I thought
we might be getting ready to head home, I felt so incredibly tired all
of a sudden. Lucy was next to me wanting to eat french fries and I
could barely feed her. I felt bad because we had already been there for
a few hours, but I talked to Candice (my friend who was the birthing
assistant and was sticking around with us until we left) and she said it
was fine if I wanted to take a nap before we left. Thank goodness. I
slept for awhile, and then took a quick shower and got ready to head
home. I felt like a new person after some sleep and a shower. Thank
you, Candice, for staying that extra time and allowing us to enjoy our
day at the center. I know it was much longer than a normal postpartum
stay and I want you to know how much we appreciate you letting us stay.<br />
<br />
Shortly
after 8:00 that night (about 7.5 hours after Max was born) we packed up
and headed home. Before we left we flew the "Its a Boy!" flag outside
of the center. That was fun. Oliver kept saying it was the "Its a
Brother!" flag.<br />
<br />
As nervous as I was about having Max,
he has truly been an incredible baby. The week after he was born we
spent at home, just relaxing and getting to know each other. It was
really one of the best weeks of my life. It was so healing to me in
more ways than one. I was loving having a newborn again and I couldn't
get enough of him. At the end of the week we had to call and schedule
his first casting appointment to correct his clubfoot, and that was
hard. I really feel like my peaceful birth experience set me up for a
good start with Max, and gave me a good foundation to handle his
treatment. At the time that I am writing this birth story, Max has had 3
casts and will soon get his 4th. The correction is going well and we
have been blessed.<br />
<br />
When I think of Max's labor and
delivery, the thing that sticks out to me the most was the love and
support I felt. I had the perfect birth team for me- my husband, my
midwife, my doula, my birth photographer, and my parents. Everyone
played a special role. Anyone that knows me knows that I am a huge
believer in natural birth. But I didn't walk away from Max's birth
thinking that everyone should have a natural birth because I did and
mine was great. I walked away thinking (and wishing) that every woman
should feel as loved and supported during their birth as I did.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
On Sunday, September 29, 2013 Jay and I welcomed our third baby into
the world. A precious baby boy, Max Christopher was born at 12:25 pm
weighing 8 lbs 5 oz and measuring 20 inches long.<br />
<br />
This
was going to be my second natural birth. With our first child, I had had
a typical OB hospital birth experience. I was induced at 37 weeks 2
days due to high blood pressure (not pre-eclampsia) and had an epidural
that did not work well. Afterwards, I gained so much faith in my body
and decided to go a different route for my second birth. During my
second pregnancy, I switched from my OB to a midwife when I realized I
did not want to have to fight for the birth I wanted. I was almost 34
weeks pregnant when I switched and it was one of the best decisions of
my life. I had a lovely natural hospital birth. My midwife with my
second birth has become a dear friend of mine. She switched jobs after
my daughter, Lucy, was born, and the day I found out she would not be my
midwife for any future babies I cried! Thankfully, I found another
wonderful midwife for my third pregnancy and birth. This would be my
first out of hospital birth at a freestanding birthing center, and I
couldn't wait.<br />
<br />
My pregnancy with Max was unlike either
of my previous pregnancies. The first couple of weeks reminded me a
lot of my first pregnancy with smells bothering me, sickness especially
at night, and sore breasts. I began to think "<i>hmm, maybe another boy?</i>"
Over the weeks, however, many of those symptoms faded except for the
sickness which lasted all day for weeks. I had hoped that if it was
going to follow my first pregnancy I would get past the morning sickness
by around week 10 or so just like I did before. No such luck! I was
continuing to feel nauseated and would throw up well past the halfway
mark in my pregnancy. I remember the week of my big ultrasound (23
weeks) I had just started to feel good. At that point, I was thinking, <i>"Well, maybe its actually a girl!"</i> since I was also so sick when I was carrying Lucy.<br />
<br />
Just
as I started to get past the sickness, I had my ultrasound that
revealed we were having another baby expected to have clubfoot. (And we
were having a boy!) Our first child, Oliver, had been born with
bilateral (both feet) clubfoot in 2008. We had been through this once,
and that did not provide a bit of comfort. Instead, it made me realize
how hard this was going to be. This wrecked me in ways that I was not
prepared for. Despite my strong Christian faith, I was angry at God for
giving us this challenge. I felt like I went from being sick all the
time to being a mess over how we were going to take care of this baby
and his foot. The doctor that we had used for Oliver's clubfeet and
absolutely loved was no longer practicing; I also found that out the day
of my ultrasound. I spent the next 2 months losing countless hours of
sleep as I worried about what we were going to do. I researched like a
crazy person for a new doctor. The weight of the care our son needed
burdened me and, admittedly, stole a lot of the joy from my pregnancy. I
have always enjoyed being pregnant, but this time I did not. I feel
awful admitting that but it is true. On top of everything else, this
pregnancy was extremely painful for me. I had many symptoms of SPD,
where just walking was excruciating and by the end of the day I would
often just break down in tears as to how much pain I was in just from
doing the bare minimum of everyday activities. In previous pregnancies,
I was uncomfortable of course. But this time I was really affected by
the pain and had to stop doing things very early on. At one point Jay
asked me if I still wanted to have more children after this, and I
replied, "Let me first forget how horrible this pregnancy has been."<br />
<br />
Despite
the physical pain, and emotional and mental anguish of preparing for
another clubfoot baby, I did not wish away the pregnancy. In fact,
there were times when I was panicked about how quickly it was going by.
At one appointment with my midwife, I was waiting back in the room and I
realized that soon I would be going to every week appointments. I got
out my phone, opened the calendar, and literally counted three times to
make sure I was in fact that far along. It couldn't be possible! I was
so worried about how I was going to handle travelling for Max's
treatment since I knew Jay would not be able to go with me each time. I
worried about having a newborn in the house again. There were times I
literally felt scared of this baby I was carrying. Lucy, while
absolutely precious and wonderful, was a *very* difficult newborn. The
days, weeks, and months after she was born were some of the hardest
times I can remember since we have had children. I was really worried
about making it through those infant days and actually enjoying him.
People would ask me if I was ready, or getting excited, as I approached
my due date. I smiled and said yes, of course. I really didn't want to
admit to anyone how scared I was of adding a third child.<br />
<br />
I
spent many, many appointments with my wonderful midwife, Kori,
processing all of these feelings. I worried that my fears would inhibit
my labor. After all, while I was still carrying him, I didn't have to
deal with the clubfoot. I didn't have to deal with the doctor
appointments and the travel. I didn't have to worry about the insane
sleep deprivation I experienced in the past with a baby who just
would.not.sleep. Ever. I just had to talk it out over and over again.
Although my midwife and I had known each other before this pregnancy (I
had been a doula for two of her other clients), it was during these
appointments that I truly felt like she switched from being just my care
provider to being my friend. I will forever be thankful for her
patience and kindness to me during this time. There truly is a
difference in midwifery care.<br />
<br />
During the last 3 weeks
or so of my pregnancy, I had been having sporadic contractions.
Although I knew that none of them were "real" labor contractions, they
certainly were painful. Some of them would wake me up at night or keep
me from falling asleep in the first place. None of the painless
tightening contractions that I had felt during the end of my second
pregnancy. These contractions hurt. I strongly felt as though I would
have the baby early, well before my due date. There was just no way,
with all of the contractions and the SPD pain, that I could possibly
make it to my due date. I kept reminding myself that babies don't have a
calendar and they will certainly come when they are ready. But darn it
all, I was in SO much pain. I could barely stand the thought of waking
up pregnant for many more days. I was nesting like mad. I threw away
so many bags of stuff, donated countless items, and scrubbed the heck
out of our house. <br />
<br />
By 39 weeks, I was sure that I
would have the baby any day now. I just "knew". It was also around
this time that one evening something really "clicked" with me and I
suddenly felt a complete and total peace about the baby coming. It was
so sudden and so intense. I was laying in bed one night, and suddenly I
had this strong memory of laying in bed with Oliver as a baby,
snuggling up to him and pressing my face into that sweet spot of a
newborn's neck. Rubbing my cheek against his soft baby cheeks. The
memory was so vivid that it brought me to tears, and suddenly, I was
excited. All of a sudden, I could not wait to hold my baby. I wanted
to meet him so very badly. <i><b>I was ready</b></i>.<br />
<br />
I
really hadn't expected to have that peace until I met my baby, so when I
felt that around week 39, I thought he would be born any day. Sure
enough, though, I made it to my due date. My 40 week appointment was on
Monday, the day before my due date. I asked to have my cervix checked
for the first time as I was curious if I had made any progress. When I
had my first check on my due date during my second pregnancy, I was 3
cms with a bulging water sack. I was hoping I was about the same this
time. It was very painful to be checked, and I found out I was about
2-3 cms and 30% effaced, but my cervix was still high. Meh. I knew it
didn't mean much; I could go on for a week or more like that, or I could
go into labor that night. I really wanted to have a September baby,
but I still had a week for that to happen. I decided against having my
membranes stripped at that point because I just didn't feel like it
would do much. I was having no significant labor signs.<br />
<br />
With
Lucy's pregnancy, I had that first check on my due date, I went into
labor that night, and had her the next morning. I'll admit, I kind of
expected the same thing to happen this time. Of course, it didn't.
Over the course of the next couple of days after my appointment I began
to lose a lot of discharge. Every time I would go to the bathroom, I
would check to see if I was having any sort of bloody show. That was
one of my first labor signs with Lucy, but I didn't have that at all
with Max. I was starting to get really impatient. <br />
<br />
Wednesday
night I went to bed, having contractions as usual, and woke up around 3
am to a painful contraction. This pain was different. It was an all
over sensation that really got my attention. Oliver had come into my
bed at some point, and I was trying to deal with the contractions
without waking him up. All I wanted to do was get up and move around,
or take a shower, or something, but I knew that if this was it, I needed
to rest. I was tired, so I would drift off in between contractions
that were coming anywhere from 5-10 mins apart. As soon as a
contraction would hit, it was like my body would come "alive". That is
the only word I could think of during the pain. I would go from being
sleepy and out of it to being extremely aware of every sensation in my
body. This went on for about two hours. I texted Jay at work to let
him know that I would most likely be needing him to come home, that I
thought I was in labor and if this continued I would need help once the
kids were awake.<br />
<br />
The next thing I knew, I woke up and it was 7 am. Two hours had passed, and my contractions had gone away. <i>"Damn it!" </i>was
all I could think. I couldn't believe it. I called my mom and was in
tears over how exhausted I was. She and my dad ended up coming up from
Indy for the day to help with the kids. I spent the afternoon in my
bedroom. I spent time on my hands and knees and doing various positions
to try to get baby in a good position in case that was why my labor
hadn't really kicked in the previous night. I really wanted to go to the
chiropractor, but had absolutely no energy or desire to leave the
house. I slept for awhile, and when I woke up later that afternoon I
had some more contractions. I ate dinner that night, a meal from
Casa's, and ended up throwing it all back up. Gross. I called my
midwife to give her a heads up about the night before and that maybe the
contractions I was feeling would get going once the kids were in bed
for the night.<br />
<br />
No such luck. I woke up the next
morning still pregnant. I got the kids ready for the day and my
mother-in-law came and got Oliver to take him to preschool and took Lucy
for the day. My parents had spent the night so that I didn't have to
drive up to Auburn for my prenatal appointment by myself. We left early
so that I could eat a big breakfast that was required before my
ultrasound. They were going to do a biophysical profile to check on the
baby. <br />
<br />
Everything looked perfect on the ultrasound. I
had never had an ultrasound so late in my pregnancy (obviously, since I
had never gone past my due date), and I was amazed at how big he looked
on the screen. His face looked so real, so full, so precious! He had
his hand up by his face and it was incredible to see him. I was even
more excited to meet this sweet little baby.<br />
<br />
I decided
to be checked again. I wanted to know if the contractions I had had
that week, as well as some of the discharge I had experienced, had
helped me make any progress. Sure enough I was 4 cms, 70% effaced, and
my cervix was lower and more in the front than the Monday earlier that
week. In fact, the exam was barely even uncomfortable. Because of
that, I asked her to strip my membranes. In some ways, I'm kind of
surprised I did that. It tends to go against my whole "wait it out"
mentality, but really, I was just so done. I knew there was a
possibility it wouldn't do anything, and I was ok with that. But if it
helped things along with what I had already experienced, well ok then. <br />
<br />
Its
funny when I look back at my last two pregnancies, labors, and
deliveries. Both were natural births with a midwife. But the first
time I did it this way, I really wanted to do things MY way which really
meant "nothing like what an OB does". I felt like I had to prove
to...myself? others? I dont really know...that birth didnt have to be
anything like what we hear. A woman doesn't have to have all of these
vaginal exams. They didn't need to have an IV during labor. They don't
have to do xyz to have a baby. But this last time, I didn't feel that
need to prove anything. If I wanted to have my cervix checked, I was
going to do it. If I wanted to have my membranes stripped, I was going
to do it and not worry about how anyone might judge that. I was truly
taking control over my own experience.<br />
<br />
Friday night
after my appointment, we went to my in-laws for dinner and to drop
Oliver off for his regular Friday night sleepover with his cousins. I
couldn't eat much, and again I was having regular contractions every 10
mins. They weren't extremely painful, but they certainly got my
attention and they reminded me of early labor with Lucy. By the time we
were ready to go, I had to stop while putting Lucy in her carseat to
work through one of them. Hmm, I thought, this could be good. I
expected to get her to sleep and then have things really pick up.<br />
<br />
Sure
enough, after about 3 hours of having contractions, they stopped.
Again. I was frustrated and tired and fairly certain I was going to be
pregnant forever. I was irrationally upset that I was certainly NOT
going to have the September baby I had hoped for. I got a decent
night's sleep that night, but I was so uncomfortable and worn down the
next day that it didn't seem to matter much. <br />
<br />
Saturday
night I desperately wanted to get out of the house for awhile. We
considered going to the grocery store, but it was already about 6:00 by
the time we got ready and we didn't really want to keep the kids up late
that night. Jay was also worried that I would go into labor while we
were shopping in Fort Wayne, and then we'd have to come home, get the
kids ready to go to my ILs, etc etc. He worried that since I was
already 4 cms that things would go quickly. (Actually, I had tons of
people tell me during that last week about how they had had nights of
contractions similar to mine, and then once labor started, BAM. It was
quick and intense and over with in just a couple of hours.) I scoffed
at his concern about a fast labor, because, after all, I was going to be
pregnant forever. I was even getting annoyed thinking about all of my
friends who had gone into labor and had their babies before their due
dates.<br />
<br />
We ended up just going for a short walk, and
I commented about halfway through that I was really glad we had decided
to skip on the grocery trip. Just the amount of walking we were doing
was painful and almost too much for me at that point. We came home and
got the kids ready for bed, and Jay asked me if tonight was the night I
would have the baby. I snapped at him something like, "Yeah, how would I
know". (Sorry, sweetie!) I was irritated about everything at that
point and knew I wouldn't have faith in my contractions if they did in
fact start up.<br />
<br />
During the last few weeks of my labor, I
really needed time at night to be by myself. I didn't want any
company, I just wanted alone time in my room to get into my "zone". I
spent a lot of time praying, talking to Max, and focusing on good labor
and delivery thoughts. I read Peggy Vincent's "Baby Catcher" book,
especially the story where she talks about the clubfoot baby. That
night I did those same things, all the while sitting on my birth ball.
Bounce, bounce, bounce. Roll my hips. Willing, begging, pleading for
labor to start. I was facebook messaging with a friend of mine. I had
been her doula for her last delivery, so she is one of those "anything
goes" friends. Around midnight, I had to pee, so I got up off of my
ball, and I literally felt something fall out of me. I went to the
bathroom, and passed a HUGE glob of mucus plug. I told my friend about
it, and we both thought that maybe I was going to have this baby soon.
Then again, maybe it was just wishful thinking.<br />
<br />
Sure
enough, though, it wasn't long at all after I passed the mucus plug that
contractions started. Holy crap. These HURT. They were coming every 5
minutes or so and lasting over a minute. I still had a hard time
believing they were going to stick around, but something in me told me
that this was probably it. I tried to rest but it was impossible. I
double-checked everything in my bags and made sure the kids had clothes
ready for the next day. I got the bags around and headed downstairs
where Jay was. I told him I thought I was in labor but was trying to
wait and see what happened. <br />
<br />
At 1:40 am I called
my doula to let her know what was going on. I wasn't ready for her to
come or anything, but I was pretty positive that I'd be needing her that
night. I felt calm and in control. As I was up doing things, my
contractions got much closer, every two and a half minutes or so, but
not lasting as long, maybe 45 seconds. I started to get confused as to
what was going on, and decided to call my midwife. She asked me if
there was any reason why I felt like this wasn't real labor, and I said
my doubts were mainly because of the other nights I had had contractions
start and then stop. I didn't want to call everyone and get to the
birth center and then have to go home and waste anyone's time. She told
me I didn't need to worry about that; if it happened, it happened. I
told her about the strange pattern, and she suggested that I take 30
minutes and put my phone away (I was timing them with a contraction
timing app) and just relax. I agreed that this was a good idea as I was
starting to go nuts with timing them. I told her I would take the next
half hour and then decide what seemed best after that. I put away my
phone, set the kitchen timer for 30 minutes, and sat on my birth ball,
and watched a funny TV show with Jay. After the timer went off, I
decided to see what was going on with my contractions and had Jay start
timing them again. They were back to every 5 minutes lasting about a
minute. Around 3 am I decided this was it. <br />
<br />
I had
a list of people I needed to call. I called my mom, because she lives
about two hours from the birthing center and it was important for me
that she was there. I called my doula back and let her know this was
it! We decided she would just meet me at the birthing center. Jay
called his parents to come over and stay with the kids so that we didn't
have to get them out of bed. I called my midwife back and let her know
this was it, and that once my in-laws came we would be leaving. I
called my birth photographer so that she could meet us at our house and
follow us to the center. This was really happening!<br />
<br />
I
really don't remember the time between calling people and leaving.
Contractions were already taking all of my attention and I just wanted
to get the 45 minute drive to Auburn out of the way. I grabbed a towel
to sit on in the van just in case my water broke. I decided to sit in
the very back row so that I could lay down or move around more if I
needed to. Once everyone got to the house I remember Jay filling his
parents in on what they needed to know, and me telling Jennifer (my
birth photographer) that the contractions were about every 5 minutes. I
walked out of the house in the middle of Jay telling his parents
something because I just couldn't be around anyone during a contraction.<br />
<br />
The
drive to the center was as bad as I expected. I knew my contractions
were still about every 5 minutes, and occasionally I would notice the
time and start to dread when I expected another one to hit. Every bump
on the road felt awful and I was remembering why I wanted a home birth-
to avoid the drive!! I was cursing the stupid fair that Auburn had going
on that meant we had a detour in town and the drive was even longer.
Once we got to the stoplight by the hospital, I remember thinking that I
only had enough time left before we got to the center to have one more
contraction. Thank goodness. <br />
<br />
We got to Auburn
Birthing Center sometime after 4 am, and as soon as we were parked in
the garage I said, "Get me out of here" and quickly climbed out of the
van. I remember seeing something in the garage labelled "Precipitous
Birth Kit" or something like that. Another contraction hit and I
thought, "I'm so glad I made it here to labor at the birth center, but
I'm so jealous that some moms are already done when they get here!"<br />
<br />
I
went inside and saw my doula and my midwife. It was so quiet and
peaceful. I could tell that I already felt so comfortable; there was no
"re-adjusting" to my new space to feel "safe" again like when I was in
the hospital. This was exactly where I wanted to be and I was so
thankful for the chance to be there. My contractions were coming
regularly, about every 5 minutes, and lasting 45 seconds. In between
contractions I settled into the room I had chosen beforehand (the
"circle room", appropriately named because of its decorations). Despite
my intentions to walk around the birth center and labor other places,
once I settled into this room I didn't leave until after he was born.
As soon as I sat on the edge of the bed to talk to my midwife, a
contraction hit and I went down onto my hands and knees on the floor to
cope through it. <br />
<br />
I asked to be examined and it
was determined that I was 6 cm, 100% effaced, and baby was at 0
station. I asked Kori to remind me what the stations meant, and she
explained to me that he was in line with my pelvis, but not to worry too
much about the details. I remember being thrilled that I was 6 cms.
Only 4 left to go! Surely I would hit transition soon and it wouldn't be
long. I started to worry that my parents may not make it there in
time. I sent my mom a text updating her and she sent one back saying to
tell baby Max to slow down. Yeah right, I thought! I sent one back
saying, "Tell Dad to hurry up!!" I had worship music playing and my
doula was helping me by doing hip squeezes and other things to help me
during contractions.<br />
<br />
Around 5 am I made my way into the
tub. I was hesitant to get in too early because the water had slowed
my labor down with Lucy. But the thought of being in the water sounded
so good. I wanted a water birth, but had also wanted that with Lucy,
and was ok with doing whatever felt right at the time. Sure enough, the
water just did not feel right. Contractions seemed to slow down, and I
wasn't going to wait and see what happened this time. I felt sick to
my stomach and almost threw up. At that point, I was done with the tub
and wanted out. Getting in and out of that huge tub was such a pain. As
soon as I got out I was so cold and shaking uncontrollably. I hadn't
completely ruled out the idea of using the tub again at some point that
night, but the thought of dealing with the shaking in case I wanted out
again made up my mind. No more tub.<br />
<br />
My parents arrived
just before 6 am. I was out of the tub and laying on my left side. I
remember someone putting a blanket or sheet or something over me to
cover me when my dad walked in to say hello and I shoved it aside.
Someone explained that my dad was in the room and they were just
covering me up a bit and I said, "I do not care!! Get it off of me!" I
soon asked for another check. For some reason, knowing my dilation was
really important to me this time. I found out I was 7.5 cms and baby
was still at 0 station.<br />
<br />
I was determined to push this
along if I could. At this point I have to rely heavily on my doula's
notes because I don't remember much of this. I was very tired from the
lack of sleep in the overnight hours, but I pressed on trying different
positions to encourage labor progress. I tried hands and knees and
alternated that with side-lying. Jay showed me some pictures of Oliver
and Lucy on my phone. I also used the birth stool. Jay rubbed my back
and held my hand. Amber, my doula, applied pressure on different places
on my lower back and hips. The contractions continued to be so very
intense. I didn't want anyone joking or talking to me during a
contraction, and I remember feeling like it was never going to end. I
just wanted to go home. It seemed as though I was having signs of
transition. The one bad thing (for me) about having a lot of knowledge
about birth is that I found myself frequently analyzing my labor in an
attempt to figure out where I was at and how much longer it would last.
Did contractions seem to be getting closer together? Did I feel like
giving up? Was this transition, which meant pushing would be soon? I
was feeling a lot more pressure and thought surely I was making a lot of
progress. I was scared of pushing against a cervical lip like I had
experienced during Lucy's labor, so I asked for yet another exam. At
7:55 am I had another check that showed I was still 7.5 cms.<br />
<br />
I
see why exams can be both good and bad. It was so discouraging to hear
that I had not made any progress in dilation. I had experienced all of
those horribly painful contractions and yet I was still 7.5 cms. I
talked some with my doula, who asked what was going on in my mind. I
told her I was just so tired, and so ready to be done. I felt like it
was never going to end. I really wasn't having any problems "releasing"
my baby to be born; mentally I was very ready. The worry that dealing
with his clubfoot may inhibit my labor did not actually happen. My
labor was just so very slow. Hearing that I had not progressed took me
off the ledge that I was on of extreme pain and brought me back to
reality to "ok, I need to figure out how to deal with these
contractions." Kori offered to break my water but I declined. My mom
was sitting next to me and I told her I really did not want my water
broken. In between contractions my midwife asked if there was a
specific reason why I didn't want that done. In all the talking I had
done with her during my prenatal appointments, I had never gotten around
to telling her that that was one thing I had regretted from Lucy's
labor. I really wanted to experience what it was like to have my water
break on its own. Kori said she did not feel that breaking my water
would necessarily speed things up that much anyway, and that was all I
needed to hear to know I definitely did not want it done.<br />
<br />
At
8:30 am I decided I needed time just with Jay. I felt badly, but I
kicked everyone else out of the room. I desperately needed rest. And
similarly to how I needed that quiet time during my pregnancy to just
get in my zone with Max, I now needed to do that again. Kori had
reminded me at some point that I needed to stop fighting my body and
welcome the contractions (I had started saying "Nooo, no no no not
again" during contractions because of the pain). I knew she was right,
and part of me felt guilty for acting that way! I've been on the other
side, as a doula, and know that women go through a wide range of actions
and emotions during labor. I've been able to let go of that guilt this
time; after Lucy's birth it took me weeks to process how I acted during
labor and get over the embarrassment I felt.<br />
<br />
Being
alone was exactly what I needed. I knew that people were waiting on me,
but that was ok. Kori had given me the option of either walking around
the center and trying some various things to progress labor, or laying
down and resting. It is hard to describe, because in my mind I was
already up and walking around and laboring elsewhere. But it was like
my body was absolutely drawn to that bed. I wish I could say I had made
the conscious decision to labor in bed for awhile, but I made no such
decision. It was made for me. I knew that in order to complete this
task of birthing my baby, I had to lay down and rest. I absolutely had
to. I had no idea how long I would lay there, but the choice truly was
made for me by my body's need for rest. We turned off my music, and
everyone left. The support I felt with everyone in the room was
wonderful, but with each contraction I just became over-stimulated. I
felt the pain, I felt everyone's touch, I was praying in my mind, I was
analyzing my labor. It was just too much.<br />
<br />
I laid on
my sides with pillows between my legs. The pain was so incredibly
intense. Its crazy how a woman's body can handle that sort of pain. I
kept thinking, "This is never going to end. If only I knew what time he
was going to be born, I could see an end to this. But I can't. There is
no end to this pain." But I took Kori's advice of welcoming the
contractions, realizing that each one was bringing my baby to me.
Believe it or not, I actually was able to smile during some of my
contractions! Granted, Jay was next to me asleep and no one else was in
the room, so maybe I wasn't smiling. But it sure felt like it. I began
to think, "Yes, Max. Come to me. Do what you..." and at some point the
thought trailed off into the haze of pain. At some point earlier in my
labor I had started to panic because it was so hard to breathe during a
contraction, and my doula reminded me that yes, I could breathe and to
breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Oh my goodness,
that helped so much! While I was laying there resting, I would feel a
contraction come on and I would breathe in through my nose and out
through my mouth. In my mind I was picturing this circle of breath
coming into my body and leaving. I had my hands together, fingers
intertwined, and would feel my hands tightening up. I desperately tried
to relax because even my fingers felt the pain of the contractions.
Surely this had to end soon because my body couldn't continue to handle
it. During contractions I could feel the baby moving down. I couldn't
hold back as my body would push him down. I could tell these weren't
actual pushes, because as I would start to push, it was like the baby
would hit a wall and it would get extremely painful, and I would have to
back off. But I knew things were happening.<br />
<br />
Kori
continued to check on me every once in awhile and listen to the baby.
He sounded great, and she assured me that as long as I was okay with
labor progressing this way that I was doing fine. I certainly wasn't ok
with labor progressing so slowly, but again, I really didn't feel like I
had a choice in the matter. I absolutely needed that rest.<br />
<br />
At
10:10 another check showed that I was 8-9 cm. I asked my doula to come
join me again as I was having some really bad back pain. I've never
felt such tightening and horrible pain in my back. It didn't go away
between contractions but it certainly intensified during them. I could
no longer lay on my side. Amber used massage as I went back into hands
and knees position to try to relieve some of the back pain. I tried
laying over the birth ball as well and that felt awful. My arms were
tired so I went back to the birth stool. At one point I had to hold onto
the sides of the birth stool and lock my arms, basically lifting myself
up because I couldn't stand the pressure of sitting. My doula asked if
having my arms that way helped, and again, I felt as though it was just
something I had to do. After awhile, I was able to relax them. Jay
supported me from behind, and being able to lay back onto him was so
comforting. Amber was in front of me, holding my hands. There was
something very tender and sweet about just being able to reach out and
hold a friend's hand during the pain. I felt extremely loved and
supported during the entire process. I had some birth affirmation cards
with me, and Amber read scripture aloud. I rested in the knowledge
that God had created this entire birthing process and He does not make
mistakes. I could surely handle this because God had designed my body
to do this. Both of my natural labors and deliveries have been
extremely spiritual for me. I have had to rely on God's help to get me
through because I knew I couldn't do it on my own. It was an act of
obedience on my part to wait for my baby to come and to come into this
world in the way God had designed it. I don't know that other Christian
women feel this way, as this has just been a personal conviction of
mine.<br />
<br />
I was later told that I became very inward
and remained composed during contractions. Although I can see now that
that was true, its a very strange thing to be experiencing the worst
pain of your life and other people not necessarily realize it. I
remember Jay talking to me during one contraction and I could barely
speak but I managed to say, "Quiet, I'm contracting." All I could see,
feel, and sense was PAIN. How anyone else was functioning normally
around me without this pain was just incomprehensible. It was just so
consuming. At times I would cry out, moan, pray aloud, or grunt while
my body worked to push my baby down.<br />
<br />
At 11:23 am, I
felt a little "pop" as my water broke while sitting on the birth stool.
I had felt what I thought was a pop earlier in labor, but my water was
still intact after that one, so I wasn't really sure what this pop was.
Amber and I noticed some white "stuff" in the fluid that had leaked
while I was sitting on the birth stool, so she went and got Kori. Kori
thought it may have been some vernix and that my water had broken. <i>"Cool," </i>I thought,<i> "I got to experience my water breaking. But really, that was quite uneventful."</i> I expected a gush or something, but it was not very dramatic at all.<br />
<br />
I
kept saying that I felt like this would last forever, and even
apologized to Jay at some point. I told him I just wanted him to be
proud of me. He assured me that he was and that I was doing great. I
felt very connected to him during this labor, and it was a wonderful
bonding experience for us. <br />
<br />
I got off of the birth
stool and wanted to be back on my hands and knees. Again, this was a
position that I spent a lot of time in during my pregnancy to relieve
discomfort and it was my go-to position during labor as well. I pushed
for a few contractions while I leaned over the side of the bed. I
remember saying I felt a lot of pressure, and a lot in my bottom like I
had to poop. I knew that that was a good thing. I got back onto the
bed in hands and knees position and was pushing before I even realized
that I really <i>WAS</i> pushing. It was all just my body taking over and doing what it needed to do to get Max out. <br />
<br />
It
was time. My mom and Jennifer were still out of the room from when I
kicked everyone out earlier and suddenly, I was scared that everyone was
going to miss it. I kept saying I wanted Jennifer in there for
pictures, that she couldn't miss taking the pictures! I knew the baby
was coming, and soon, and yet it seemed like everyone else was remaining
calm and unhurried. I had a moment of panic that no one believed me
that this baby was coming NOW! Amber was on my left, fanning me with a
paper fan which felt amazing. Jay was on my right, and my mom was
behind me (I think). <br />
<br />
Now this is the part that I
definitely did not see coming or ever expected. During my pregnancy, I
had thought about how my dad would be there at the birthing center. I
had toyed with the idea that if I was in the tub having a water birth,
it might be neat for my dad to come into the room as Max was born so he
could experience the birth of one of his grandchildren. Well, I
obviously was not in the tub and yet just as Max was about to be born, I
decided I wanted my dad in there. I can't explain it. Here I am
giving birth and I want my dad in the room. I remember yelling for him
and he didn't come. Other people yelled for him and he got in the room
just in time. After the fact, part of me is somewhat embarrassed yet I
am still glad I did it. Anyone that knows me well knows that my dad and
I have had a lot of ups and downs in our relationship. It was very
special to me that he was part of Max's birth.<br />
<br />
My body
truly took over as I was pushing. I felt the stretching, and the
burning. At one point, I felt my body stretching and then I felt the
baby go back up. Ugh, no!!! I did not want to have an extremely long
pushing phase like I did with Lucy. But the next contraction I felt him
stay down, and I knew it wasn't going to be long before my baby was
born. My midwife encouraged me to do little pushes to decrease the
chance of me tearing, and my body immediately started to do little
"puffs" of breaths to slow down. Max's head was born, and unlike Lucy's
birth where her head, shoulders and body were quickly born all at once,
I had to wait for another contraction to push his body out. That felt
like forever!! Here I was on my hands and knees with his head out of me
and I had to wait. I couldn't see anything and everyone else was
talking about how his head was out. At one point it felt like he moved
and I practically yelled, "What is he doing?!" because it truly felt
like he was trying to crawl back inside of me. Kori laughed and said,
"He's yawning!" All I could think (and I believe someone actually said
this..Kori maybe? or me?) was, "Is he bored?!?" What the heck little
dude, you're halfway born and you're yawning?!? :)<br />
<br />
The
next contraction came and Max was born. I was still on my hands and
knees and could see him come down onto the bed, although because of the
position I was in it felt like he fell onto the bed. (My doula later
reassured me that it was in fact quite controlled the way he came down.)
I breathed a huge sigh of relief and reached down to pick up my baby.<br />
<br />
The
feeling of meeting my baby was absolutely incredible. There are truly
no words. Its that moment where all you can think is, "My baby is here!
I did it! Its over!" I was so extremely happy. I just wanted to laugh!
He was perfect. I learned that the cord had been wrapped twice around
his neck, but at no time during my labor did he show any signs of
distress. Thank goodness. I really can't imagine if I had had to
transport to the hospital. I truly feel that my labor was able to
progress and I was able to reach completion mainly because of the
peaceful environment I was in. It had been nearly 8 hours from when I
was first checked and I was 6 cms to when Max was finally born.<br />
<br />
There
were quite a few tears as we heard Max's first cry that just seemed to
go on and on. He was so perfect. I saw his foot, and instead of making
me sad, it was just part of who he was. The clubfoot may have stolen
joy from my pregnancy, but it stole nothing from my moment of meeting my
son. He was perfect, and he was ours.<br />
<br />
I just held
onto him as I was still there on my knees in the bed. I had no idea how
I was supposed to move out of that position, so thankfully others
helped me get turned around and settled. My placenta came out within 30
minutes of delivery and we waited to cut the cord. It was neat to see
the cord go completely white and limp as we waited for all of the blood
to be delivered to Max. Jay cut the cord and Kori bagged up my placenta
so that I could have it encapsulated. Shortly after he was born, the
birth assistant, a dear friend of mine, arrived. I was disappointed
that she had missed the actual birth but it was wonderful to see her and
spend time with her afterwards. That is one neat thing about being
involved in the local birth community - your birth team is composed of
some of your closest friends. Although I did have to laugh when she
helped to get a pad on me after the birth. How many of us have friends
that have lifted us up to put underwear on us, or helped check out if we
had a tear after childbirth?! Thankfully, I had just a minor first
degree tear that did not require any stitches. I was thrilled to hear
that! I had had second degree tears and stitches with both of my
previous deliveries.<br />
<br />
About an hour after Max was born
my in-laws arrived with Oliver and Lucy. It was a precious moment to
hear them come into the birthing center and know that they were going to
meet their baby brother. I was so glad that Jennifer stuck around and
got pictures of them meeting Max. So many wonderful memories.<br />
<br />
We
ended up sticking around the birth center for several hours after the
birth. I ate some food, rested, and visited with some close family.
Also, my midwife from Lucy's birth that I mentioned before came to visit
us. That was so special to see her and her daughter. It added another
memory to an already amazing day. Just about the time that I thought
we might be getting ready to head home, I felt so incredibly tired all
of a sudden. Lucy was next to me wanting to eat french fries and I
could barely feed her. I felt bad because we had already been there for
a few hours, but I talked to Candice (my friend who was the birthing
assistant and was sticking around with us until we left) and she said it
was fine if I wanted to take a nap before we left. Thank goodness. I
slept for awhile, and then took a quick shower and got ready to head
home. I felt like a new person after some sleep and a shower. Thank
you, Candice, for staying that extra time and allowing us to enjoy our
day at the center. I know it was much longer than a normal postpartum
stay and I want you to know how much we appreciate you letting us stay.<br />
<br />
Shortly
after 8:00 that night (about 7.5 hours after Max was born) we packed up
and headed home. Before we left we flew the "Its a Boy!" flag outside
of the center. That was fun. Oliver kept saying it was the "Its a
Brother!" flag.<br />
<br />
As nervous as I was about having Max,
he has truly been an incredible baby. The week after he was born we
spent at home, just relaxing and getting to know each other. It was
really one of the best weeks of my life. It was so healing to me in
more ways than one. I was loving having a newborn again and I couldn't
get enough of him. At the end of the week we had to call and schedule
his first casting appointment to correct his clubfoot, and that was
hard. I really feel like my peaceful birth experience set me up for a
good start with Max, and gave me a good foundation to handle his
treatment. At the time that I am writing this birth story, Max has had 3
casts and will soon get his 4th. The correction is going well and we
have been blessed.<br />
<br />
When I think of Max's labor and
delivery, the thing that sticks out to me the most was the love and
support I felt. I had the perfect birth team for me- my husband, my
midwife, my doula, my birth photographer, and my parents. Everyone
played a special role. Anyone that knows me knows that I am a huge
believer in natural birth. But I didn't walk away from Max's birth
thinking that everyone should have a natural birth because I did and
mine was great. I walked away thinking (and wishing) that every woman
should feel as loved and supported during their birth as I did.<br />
<br />
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<img alt="" class="photo_img img" height="320" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/s720x720/67064_10101506685961258_888278191_n.jpg" title="" width="400" /><img alt="" class="photo_img img" height="266" id="u_jsonp_4_1" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/s720x720/1394008_10101506684080028_578583060_n.jpg" title="" width="400" /><br />
Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-14538021743438460712013-09-27T20:00:00.003-07:002013-09-27T20:09:32.883-07:00Awaiting Baby Max's ArrivalI am now three full days past my due date, and am so very ready to meet our baby. This pregnancy has been rough-- physically, mentally, emotionally...its definitely been the hardest that I have ever experienced.<br />
<br />
I feel as though most of this pregnancy was consumed with anxiety of dealing with the baby's foot once got here. When Lucy was born, it was a very tough transition for us. Oliver did great adjusting as a big brother; but otherwise it was tough. I had a lot of anxiety about having another newborn in the house anyway; knowing that we were going to deal with clubfoot again made it so, so much worse.<br />
<br />
When I hit 37 weeks, and realized that he "could" be here any time, I went into nesting overdrive. Its odd...I've never nested during any of my pregnancies. In fact, during my second pregnancy I sent an email to my doula saying, "I apologize in advance for the mess of my house when you come over during my labor. I have zero energy or desire to clean. I just don't nest!" Not this time. I've gone crazy organizing, cleaning, throwing things away. Its borderline ridiculous and I give my husband HUGE props for putting up with me. It was like all I could do was look around my house and see everything that needed done before the baby was born. I know once he is here, things will be busy. I won't have time to organize closets, clean out the pantry, etc. So I made an enormous, master list of everything that I could possibly want cleaned in every room of the house. At 40+ weeks, that crazy long list is almost complete. All is left is a few random things that don't *really* need done.<br />
<br />
I never thought I would make it to my due date. I had had so many strong, intense contractions before I hit 39 weeks that I really expected something to happen. Honestly, this whole time I felt like he was going to come way before I was mentally ready and that made me panic a bit. Ok, a lot. I had several meltdowns about how he could be here ANY DAY and I AM NOT READY!!!!<br />
<br />
Then something changed. About week 39, things changed. I went from having contractions every day, throughout the day, to almost none. Or very few. I felt tired, but had some good days. And it was like all of a sudden I had a peace about him being here. Suddenly, I <i>could not wait</i> to meet my baby. It was a wonderful, peaceful feeling that I didn't think I would experience. I honestly didn't expect my peace to come until I held my baby in my arms. But it was here, and I was ready.<br />
<br />
That was about a week and a half ago. My due date was September 24 (a Tuesday) and it is now September 27 (Friday) late at night. A couple of nights ago I had a lot of contractions, to the point where I expected to be calling my birth team any time to get everyone ready to go. Then everything faded away, and I was left tired and worn out yesterday. I was mentally exhausted and just wanted to be done with this pregnancy. Thankfully, my parents came up and helped with the kids and I was able to rest. Last night, I slept great and woke up feeling much better about everything.<br />
<br />
I had an appointment with my midwife this morning along with an ultrasound. At this point, baby is big enough that its hard to get a good look at his feet, but we could still see that it looks like one foot is clubbed. Sigh. I guess in the back of my mind I will continue to hope and pray that it straightens miraculously before he is born. But otherwise, he looked fabulous. Completely perfect on ultrasound. That was encouraging. My body is progressing and labor could start at any time. I'm sitting here at home on my birth ball now, bouncing and rolling my hips, willing labor to start. I know I have my birth team on edge, waiting for the call. I'm so, so ready to meet our sweet boy. I am so relieved that my focus has gone from dealing with his foot to just meeting our sweet son.<br />
<br />
Whenever you are ready, baby Max, mama is ready. God's timing is perfect and I know he will join our family at exactly the right time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" src="https://scontent-a-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/s403x403/9828_10101450386740348_1456330639_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Hard to see...but can you make out his little face? Its a straight on shot of his face, with his hands tucked under his chin. His forehead is to the right, and you can see his eyes, nose and mouth if you know what to look for. :)</i></td></tr>
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Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-89489792730798528222013-08-20T20:31:00.000-07:002013-08-20T20:31:53.175-07:00Consultation with Dr. KayesJuly 31st was our consultation with Dr. Kayes, a pediatric orthopedic doctor at the Peyton Manning Children's Hospital at St. Vincent's Hospital in Indianapolis. It felt like we had been waiting so long to talk to someone. I was a nervous wreck before the appointment, but could not wait to get down there and meet him.<br />
<br />
Up until about the week before, I had plans to go by myself. That made me sad, as I already felt so lonely and overwhelmed by this choice, but it made sense. Jay didn't need to take any time off of work that wasn't necessary. However, after talking with Jay more about Oliver's feet, he decided to take the afternoon off and we would take Oliver with us to see if the doctor would look at Oliver's feet also. We weren't asking him to diagnose anything, but just wanted his opinion. If he felt like something was wrong, we would come back for an appointment just for Oliver. I prayed that he would tell us Oliver's feet looked good and that wasn't necessary.<br />
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I barely slept the night before the appointment. I wasn't exactly sleeping much lately anyway, so that wasn't unusual. Stress was really taking a toll. The morning of our appointment, I took Oliver to his speech therapy and then dropped off Lucy with my mother-in-law. Thanks to lovely pregnancy hormones I was so sad to drop her off. I usually don't spend a lot of time away from her and I hated to leave her for the day.<br />
<br />
Oliver and I came home and got Jay and headed to Indianapolis. We had plenty of time which was nice since I wasn't exactly sure where we were going. Once we got closer to the hospital, I realized I had been down there before (in college). The hospital campus is pretty big but I recognized exactly where we were. Thankfully there was a parking garage directly across from the entrance we were supposed to use, and the orthopedic office was right inside of that entrance. Very, very easy.<br />
<br />
We waited f.o.r.e.v.e.r. Or at least it felt that way. A friend of mine texted to see how our appointment went, and I vented about how we were still waiting. We were in the waiting room almost an hour (we got there a little early, so probably 45 minutes past our appointment time) before we got called back. I understand that doctors get behind, especially by that time in the afternoon, but I was such a nervous wreck that it was driving me nuts. Plus, my back and my hips and everything else were hurting from the long drive down. Cue the pregnancy crankiness. Thankfully they had some pretty cool video games in the waiting area that Oliver enjoyed playing.<br />
<br />
We finally got called back and the nurse asked us some basic questions. Oliver was already starting to get wound up being in the room and climbing up and down on the exam table. I could feel my stress level rising and I was just praying he wasn't going to be completely crazy during our talk with the doctor. We had explained to him how important this was and that we needed to be able to talk to the doctor. We even let him bring in his Nintendo 3DS to hopefully keep him occupied.<br />
<br />
Finally Dr. Kayes came in. We introduced ourselves, and Oliver, and said that he was our first clubfoot child. Oliver was sitting on the exam table with his shoes off, and right away Dr. Kayes started making conversation with Oliver and moving his feet around. I kind of held my breath to see what he said. After playing with them some more, he said Oliver's feet looked great! I think Jay and I both let out a sigh of relief. I explained that he hadn't seen a doctor for awhile so we were hoping to hear that. He had Oliver stand up and turn around and said although his right foot was a little tighter than his left that they looked great. He was amazed by Oliver's treatment (no tenotomy, very early release from braces, etc) and asked a lot of questions about that. He even looked at Jay's foot (Jay was wearing sandals) and asked a couple of questions about what we knew about his surgery and treatment as well.<br />
<br />
Even though we had to wait awhile for our appointment, I felt like Dr. Kayes made sure that we had plenty of time with him. He apologized that we had to make such a drive to get to him, and I kind of laughed and said, "Well, its either here to you or to St. Louis to see Dr. Dobbs...this is much closer." I explained that I had been in touch with Dr. Dobbs, and Dr. Kayes said he had a couple of patients that he has actually sent to St. Louis to Dr. Dobbs for a second opinion. He said he doesn't hesitate to get in touch with him if there is ever a situation where he feels he could use Dr. Dobbs' expertise. He acknowledged that Dr. Dobbs is a clubfoot expert, and I thought it was great that he utilizes him when necessary. Dr. Kayes was very humble, and kind. He asked several times what other questions we had, and how he could help us feel comfortable with what to expect at this point. I told him about how Oliver had KAFO braces, and asked if he ever used them. He said no, not really, because of the long-term benefits of the bar and boots. That brace is really the Ponseti standard, so I understand why he uses that. I asked if we could get the Dobbs bar (which is hinged and the baby can move his feet independently instead of always together like with the solid bar), and he said we could. That was good to hear. He asked how we knew about the bar and boots if Oliver had used KAFO braces. I had to laugh a little and say, "well, the Internet." If he only knew how many hours upon hours I had spent researching!<br />
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During all of this, Oliver was much more...social, than I expected. That's one way to put it. He kept going up to Dr. Kayes and saying, "Hey! Look at my game, look at this level!" and showing him something on his 3DS. I wanted to crawl under my chair, and drag Oliver with me. But Dr. Kayes took it all in stride. He would smile and even ask Oliver, "Oh yeah? Let me see that again." He was so nice and easy-going with Oliver that it really put me at ease.<br />
<br />
The treatment Dr. Kayes described was pretty much exactly what I expected. He said just to give him a call after the baby is born, and we'll set up appointments. The first cast will go on a week or two after he is born; whenever I feel up to making the trip. We'll change out casts once a week for several weeks until the feet are positioned correctly. There's a good chance Max will need a tenotomy, but I'm still praying we can avoid that like Oliver did. If he does need it, it'll be an in-office procedure and not in an operating room. I was relieved to hear that. A final cast will go on after that and stay on approximately 3 weeks. After that Max will start wearing the bar and boots brace. The first three months of brace wear will be 23 hours a day, 7 days a week. After the first three months, we will slowly wean him down: <span>one month 20-22 hours, one month 18-20 hours, one month 16-18 hours and one month 14-16 hours. Eventually he'll get down to just wearing them at bedtime until he is about 4 years old. That is the part that I really struggle with. I can't imagine having a child in braces at bedtime for that long when Oliver was done so early. But I can't let myself go there. Not yet. Max isn't even born yet; I can't let myself imagine him as a toddler in braces at bedtime.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I left the appointment feeling much, much better than I expected. I'll admit, I went in with a "this guy is going to need to impress me" attitude. I really looked at the appointment as something to check off my list to say I had looked at all of our "local" options before deciding that we needed to see Dr. Dobbs in St. Louis. How we were going to afford to get there, I didn't know. How we were going to arrange childcare, I had no idea. But I didn't expect to like Dr. Kayes, to be really honest. I was surprised at how much I liked him and felt at ease with him. Jay and I both felt comfortable with him, and I was so glad that Jay had been part of that day's appointment. I needed his input.</span><br />
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<span>I left the appointment feeling like a slight weight had been lifted. Finally, we had a doctor. I still had this nagging feeling that I wished we could be making the trip to St. Louis. I really liked Dr. Dobbs, and I knew he was one of the very best. But logistically, this made so much more sense. And if we ever feel like we need some extra help or attention, we know we can go to St. Louis. </span><br />
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<span>After the appointment, I was able to meet up with a friend who lived in Indianapolis and had a bunch of nursing and baby stuff for me. We had actually never met in person before despite being in touch pretty much daily on facebook, text messages, etc. Amal was so super sweet to wait for us during our appointment. It was lovely to meet her, and I hope that during some of our many other appointments we will be able to see her again.</span><br />
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<span>The drive home was exhausting. Physically I was in a lot of pain...Jay had gone into work at 2:30 that morning and worked 8 hours before leaving so, understandably, I did the majority of the driving that day. I called both of my parents to let them know how our appointment had gone, but I wasn't as talkative as I normally would have been because I was just so drained. It seemed like two months worth of stress, exhaustion, and anxiety had caught up to me. We had hoped to make it home in time for Oliver to get to play in his soccer game, but we definitely did not. I couldn't wait to pick up our Lucy girl and just get home.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I went to bed that night with somewhat of a clear mind for the first time in awhile. I posted this as my facebook status:</span><br />
<span></span><br /><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><i>An
exhausting day, both mentally and physically. But a very good one. I'm
so thankful for all the prayers and messages we received today. I feel
so much relief that today is over! Two months ago I was devastated with
the news we had just received and for the first time since then I am
going to bed with some peace of mind. Thank you Lord.</i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">I expected to wake up the next day and feel so much better. But to be honest, the next day I felt awful. Physically, I was exhausted and hurting all over. It was like I was forcing myself to just move and take one step after another. Mentally it was like all I could think was very basic thoughts about what needed to be done and paid attention to in that very moment. The kids and I got through the day with me functioning on a very basic "need to do it" level. I think the stress, anxiety, build-up, fatigue, and worry of the past two months had left me stripped of everything. I wanted to feel relieved and happy about the day before but felt very numb. It had all certainly taken its toll.</span>Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-808356617715693982013-08-13T20:15:00.003-07:002013-08-14T18:06:00.519-07:00Our Search for a New Orthopedic DoctorAfter I found out that Oliver's orthopedic doctor was no longer practicing, I immediately went into overdrive mode to find a new doctor. Finding out that Dr. Cummiskey wasn't going to be our baby's doctor turned a difficult situation into one that became almost suffocating for me.<br />
<br />
If I was angry that our baby was going to have to go through this, I was <i>furious</i> that we had this struggle thrown on top of everything. I felt completely overwhelmed and burdened by the need to find a new doctor. I knew that Oliver's treatment had worked wonderfully for him, but that most doctors would do things differently. I had never heard of another clubfoot baby having KAFO braces (they all seemed to have the awful looking bar and boots brace) and they all seemed to wear them for a much longer time. Suddenly my one comfort of knowing what to expect was stripped from me.<br />
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When I talked to my midwife after the ultrasound that revealed clubfoot, I said I didn't really have a need or desire to see the perinatologist that we saw with Oliver to look at the foot again. I knew what clubfoot looked like, and I know what I saw. All he could tell me was what I already knew.<br />
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Once I knew we would need to see another doctor for the baby's treatment, I asked for an appointment with Dr. Wheeler, the only perinatologist in our area. I figured he would be able to give us a name or a hospital to look into. Thankfully I was able to get in to see him the week after my first ultrasound.<br />
<br />
I went to the appointment by myself. I didn't know exactly what Dr. Wheeler would do; I half expected to feel like it was a waste of time. But I'm very glad that I went. They did another full ultrasound, checking everything out. I was so glad to see again that our baby boy looked very healthy. I was praying that God had healed the baby's foot and we could move on...but that wasn't the case. The foot looked exactly the same. Dr. Wheeler came in to look at the ultrasound and agreed that it looked like clubfoot. He asked the tech if it was an isolated clubfoot (not related to any other condition that we could see), and she said yes. He said how that was a very good thing, and I'm sure for him a clubfoot is mild. Like I've said before, I don't envy his job. I can't imagine dealing with the things that he sees everyday. I only saw one other pregnant mother at his office while I was there, and I couldn't help but wonder why she was seeing Dr. Wheeler. My heart ached for her just because she was there.<br />
<br />
After my ultrasound, Dr. Wheeler had me come into his office to talk. Basically, he said how awful it was that Dr. Cummiskey was ill and it still took him by surprise to think about it. He said that it was a relatively new development, and he didn't have the name of another doctor to tell me. <i>(Crap.) </i>That wasn't really what I wanted to hear. He called someone while I was there and they said that basically they were referring anyone dealing with clubfoot to Indianapolis to either St. Vincent's Children's Hospital or Riley Hospital for Children. Dr. Wheeler said that if it was his child, he would go to Riley...but that he didn't know any of the doctors. Just that the hospital is really good and he would trust in their care. He gave me a website to look at that listed their doctors and said to look for an orthopedic doctor that was specialized in pediatrics. He said it was sad that in the second biggest city in the state (one that has a large orthopedic practice), that no one was sub specialized in pediatrics and knew how to treat clubfoot. I tried to be thankful that he believed there was someone in Indianapolis that we could see; a two hour drive was far from ideal but I knew it could be worse.<br />
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From the time of my first appointment that showed clubfoot until the time that I finally had a consultation with a doctor in Indianapolis was exactly two months. I spent every day of those two months on the internet researching. Hours upon hours researching. Because I knew that our baby would probably have different braces than Oliver had, I felt like I needed to research the entire Ponseti method again. I could barely sleep some nights. I'd wake up thinking of something else to look up. Having the internet on my phone was as much a blessing as a curse during this time. Just when I'd try going to bed I'd think of something to research and end up being awake for another two hours as one search led to another. I felt like I didn't have a choice; my baby needed me to find a doctor. I found support groups and other mothers who had been through this as well. Those were both good and bad...it was nice to talk to others, but at the same time, they were often struggling with things that I didn't even know could happen. Relapses? Nighttime braces at ages 3, 4, 5, and older? Pressure sores? I began to feel buried under all the possibilities of what could go wrong.<br />
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In the early spring, we had Oliver evaluated for some physical therapy. He was doing a lot of tiptoe walking and in toe-ing. He seemed to be doing well, but the more I researched about relapses the more obsessed I became with his feet. Was he relapsing? Did he walk on his tiptoes out of habit, or was his tendon too tight for him to walk normally? Should he have had the tenotomy as a baby? Did he need it now? Oh my gosh, what if Oliver needed surgery and was in casts? I couldn't carry him or handle him in leg casts when I was this pregnant! In my mind I had gone as far as to figure out when I would be able to schedule a surgery for him so that I didn't have him and the baby in casts at the same time. I was a total mess. We decided that once we found a doctor for the baby, we would have Oliver looked at as well. The whole thing just made me sick.<br />
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After doing research on the website that Dr. Wheeler gave me, I finally called Riley and St. Vincent's to get consultations set up. I was hoping that I'd be able to get into both on the same day to minimize driving time. I called St. Vincent's first and asked to get in to see Dr. Kayes. He was the name that a couple of moms that I had talked to online gave me so I figured I should call him. I really didn't think we'd end up going there since Dr. Wheeler had said Riley was where he would recommend. But I figured I should consider all our options to make sure we were making the best choice. The receptionist that I talked to was nice but not very personable. I wouldn't be able to get in to see him until July 31, and that seemed like an eternity away.<br />
<br />
Then I called Riley Hospital. The ladies that I talked to were extremely friendly and compassionate about what we were facing. But I was very surprised to find out that only one doctor would meet with me prenatally. (And it was a doctor that I had heard not so great things about, and I already knew I wouldn't go to him.) I was so surprised that they wouldn't see moms during pregnancy. When I asked why, the receptionist said that the doctors didn't see a reason to because there was nothing that could be done until the baby was born, and sometimes ultrasounds were wrong. I thought that was so strange. The receptionist that I talked to was able to give me a lot of information about all of the doctors at Riley that treated clubfoot. (They each did things a little differently...some did the tenotomy in office, some did it in an operating room; some did hard plaster casts and some did soft casts.) They offered to send me some information on clubfoot, even though they knew we already had been through this with our older son. They were so extremely helpful and I was really leaning towards going with them. But I couldn't get over the idea that I was not able to meet with a doctor before I would be bring my baby to him to be treated. I felt like I really wasn't making much progress.<br />
<br />
In the midst of all of this, I learned of an excellent clubfoot doctor in St. Louis, Dr. Matthew Dobbs. At first I was overwhelmed and emotional about the idea that maybe we would need to travel that far to receive excellent care. I had no idea how we would afford it. Jay couldn't take that much time off of work to go with us. If it was a one time surgery or even a surgery and then follow-up visits, it would be one thing. But I was overwhelmed at the idea of doing it weekly with a newborn and taking care of two other children. After I had Lucy, I went back to doing everything so quickly that it delayed my recovery by a lot. Physically I felt awful for weeks after I had her. I had been determined that I wouldn't do that again, and would spend the first several weeks of my next baby's life <i>not</i> running around like crazy. I knew life would go on and it wasn't like I was going to not leave the house; but I was going to respect what my body had been through and not do anything I didn't <i>have</i> to do. Obviously that all went out the window when I realized we would be dealing with clubfoot and driving to Indianapolis each week...but St. Louis???<br />
<br />
I checked online and it was about a six hour drive. That didn't count in numerous stops with a newborn. Breastfeeding in the early weeks takes forever...I knew each stop for the baby to eat could last at least an 45 minutes to an hour or more. I would most likely have to go by myself most of the time and the thought exhausted me. I knew Oliver would be ok staying with someone else if I needed to be gone overnight, but Lucy...Lucy would not do so well. She would be about two when I would need to start travelling and I have never been away from her overnight. She doesn't sleep well anywhere but her bed, and with Jay's work hours it was going to be hard to be able to have her sleep in her bed but then up and ready for someone else to help with her during the day by the time Jay was gone for work. UGH.<br />
<br />
And then I started feeling guilty...if Dr. Dobbs in St. Louis was the best, how could I deny our baby that? How could I not be willing to make sacrifices for a short period to time to ensure that his care was absolutely excellent? People from around the world travelled to St. Louis...how could I complain about a few hours? I would see other clubfoot moms posting about the travel they went through to get to Dr. Dobbs because "only the best" for their baby. It just made my stomach hurt--how could I want anything less??? I actually got in touch with Dr. Dobbs via private message on his facebook page, and he didn't have any recommendations for doctors in Indiana but was so extremely kind to talk to. It made me want to see him even more.<br />
<br />
I knew that Dr. Cummiskey had closed his practice, but on a whim one day I decided to try to call his office anyway. There was a recorded message from his nurse (and oh, when I heard her voice it seemed impossible that it had been so long since we had seen her) saying that his practice had closed but if we had any questions or needed records to call her at her new office. So I called and left a message, telling her who I was and that I was wondering if Dr. Cummiskey had any recommendations for a new clubfoot doctor.<br />
<br />
Nurse Deb called me back the next morning, and it was so, so good to talk to her. She remembered Oliver and we talked for quite awhile. She said that they were recommending for patients to go to Dr. Kayes, the doctor I had set up a consult with at St. Vincent's hospital. I was a bit surprised, and told her I had thought maybe Riley would be our best bet. She said that they actually hadn't seen the best results come out of Riley and she was also shocked that their doctors would not meet with me prenatally. She had a lot of good things to say about Dr. Kayes. A few weeks later I stopped in with the kids to see her and get Oliver's records. It brought back so many memories to see this sweet nurse who had been there with us during Oliver's care. <br />
<br />
After talking with Nurse Deb, I felt like if we stayed with a doctor in Indiana, we would see Dr. Kayes and not a doctor at Riley Hospital. I still had doubts about Dr. Kayes, though, and it was hard for me to not think about how we could make the trips to St. Louis work. I had heard of an organization called Angel Flights, and found an organization in Indiana called <a href="http://www.lifelinepilots.org/">Lifeline Pilots</a>. Its an organization that flies people to where they need to go to get medical care. There's an application to fill out and not everyone gets accepted. I figured we would go see Dr. Kayes and then I'd come home and see if we could get to St. Louis.<br />
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Thankfully, our visit with Dr. Kayes in Indianapolis went much better than I expected. I will do a full post soon. The burden of finding a new doctor has been unexpectedly heavy. I felt (and to an extent, still feel) an enormous amount of pressure to make the right decision. I just pray that we have made the right one.<br />
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*****<br />
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One more quick thing, unrelated to our search for a new doctor. But I recently found this ultrasound image while looking online, and wanted to share it. This is from another blog of a family who has a clubfoot baby. Unfortunately, I do not have ultrasound images of either Oliver's clubfeet or Max's clubfoot. I really, really wish that I did. But I wanted to share this so that people can see what we saw on the ultrasound.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="272" id="irc_mi" src="http://russellsfeet.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/right-foot.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 134px;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo found on google search via <a href="http://russellsfeet.com/about/">http://russellsfeet.com/about/</a></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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See the leg bone, and the way the foot turns in instead of extending straight forward? The foot turning in like that indicates clubfoot. With Oliver, both feet turned inwards and we could see that via ultrasound. With baby Max, his left foot extended straight out from his leg, but his right foot turned in. As soon as I saw our ultrasound and saw his foot look very similar to the one pictured above, I knew he had a clubfoot. Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-41053897310456132392013-08-07T20:01:00.004-07:002013-08-08T18:19:08.227-07:00Anger.Shock. Sadness. Confusion. Fear. Acceptance.<br />
<br />
The first time we dealt with clubfoot, I felt all of those emotions. Not necessarily in that order, and sometimes I would go back and forth before moving onto the next feeling. The second time we found out about having a baby with clubfoot, I felt all of those emotions plus one more:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Anger.</i></b><br />
<br />
Pure, raw, soul-consuming anger.<br />
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It wasn't an emotion I expected to have, and I wasn't prepared for the intensity of it.<br />
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I started to feel it after my appointment that day. At the time, it revolved mainly around the idea, "This isn't fair. It isn't fair that my baby has to go through this."<br />
<br />
That night, when I found out that Dr. Cummiskey had had to close his practice and we would be finding a new orthopedic doctor, it turned to anger. Rage. An intense emotion that I am not proud of, and really don't want to admit. But it has been so real and so extreme that I have to share it in case there is someone else out there that is feeling it. I don't want them to think they are alone.<br />
<br />
I was angry about so many things. I was angry that I had spent more than the first half of my pregnancy feeling so sick. I had just started feeling somewhat better the week of my ultrasound. Then we found out about the baby's foot, and it was like the focus of my pregnancy went from getting through the pregnancy sickness to dealing with the clubfoot. Wasn't I supposed to have some time of joy during all of this? I felt like all the joy had been sucked out of me. Gosh, I hate acknowledging that. I hate it! But its the truth.<br />
<br />
I was angry that the one comfort that I had always had (that if we had another clubfoot baby, we knew the doctor and the way he did treatment) had been stripped from me. I felt horribly guilty feeling angry that he was no longer practicing because of how it affected ME (trust me, I felt so much sadness for him and his family). But my anger really became very intense after finding out that we needed a new doctor. Suddenly, the bit of calmness I felt underneath the pain was totally taken away and I was left feeling lost and abandoned.<br />
<br />
When we found out we needed a new doctor, I asked for a referral to see the perinatologist that had been there when we looked at Oliver's ultrasound. I really hadn't intended to see him this time, as I was sure that this baby's foot was indeed turned and the only thing the perinatologist could do at this point was confirm that's what the ultrasound looked like. But I thought he might have an idea of who we could see, so I asked for an appointment. I was able to get in quickly to see him, so the week after my first ultrasound I went to see Dr. Wheeler.<br />
<br />
My ultrasound and midwife appointment was on a Friday. That Sunday, we were surrounded in prayer and prayed for a miraculous healing. My appointment with Dr. Wheeler was that Thursday. I thought and prayed, "Great, he can do an ultrasound, and how cool would it be if God did heal our baby on Sunday?! We'll be able to go back this weekend and give God all the glory for this. God, I have got this figured out! Just do Your part, cos I've got the rest planned. Sounds good, ok?"<br />
<br />
Well, it certainly didn't work out that way. I went to the appointment and sure enough, the baby's foot still looked turned. Dr. Wheeler was very nice to talk to, and said how good it was that this looked to be an isolated clubfoot and not associated with any other major condition. I have to admit, I would not want his job. The things he and his staff must see and have to tell expectant mothers would be awful. I'm sure to him, clubfoot is very mild compared to other things they deal with.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, he didn't have any answers for us. Just that they were referring people down to Indianapolis to either St. Vincent's Peyton Manning's Children's Hospital or Riley Children's Hospital. Dr. Cummiskey had very recently closed his practice, so he didn't yet have any doctor's name that he knew of that he could recommend. He gave me a website to look at, and said if it was his child, he would go to Riley. He said the doctors there are very, very good and he would feel confident in their care. I left feeling somewhat relieved that he believed there would be a competant doctor in the state, but a bit frustrated that I was still going to be the one researching and deciding everything.<br />
<br />
I spent SO MUCH time researching. Hours every day and night before bed. I was barely sleeping. I was so mad that I was having to do this. I contacted various people asking for their help and opinions on doctors. I felt an enormous burden of finding the perfect doctor for our baby. It seemed so unfair to have to take this on while dealing with the already tumultuous hormones that come with being pregnant.<br />
<br />
During all of this, I struggled with praying. I knew in my heart and in my head that God hadn't abandoned me, that He was holding me in His arms and crying with me. But my mind kept saying, "Fine, God, if You are sad about this too, then FIX IT. You can do it. Why don't you?!" I was not ok with the idea of my child being used as a way to reach more people for Christ. I was not okay with my baby going through so much pain for any "purpose" or "reason" that was unknown to me. I was angry. I felt like stomping my feet and shaking my fist and screaming at God. I knew he could handle my tantrums, and that's exactly what it felt like I was having. My prayers were often short and consisted of, "God forgive me for having such a closed heart right now. But I'm angry. And you know that so I'm not even going to try to pretend I'm not. You know what I want you to do. Just get me through this mess."<br />
<br />
I was angry at other people, too. I totally acknowledged that it was anger coming from me because of the place that I was in. It wasn't anyone else's fault. But I quickly realized there were certain people that I just couldn't talk to about this. Having people tell me over and over again how okay it was because it was "just clubfoot" made me want to bury them six feet under. Having people tell me I should be thankful because it could be so much worse made me feel like my anger and sadness was unjustified. <i>Of course</i> I realized how blessed we are. My goodness, I have had some very close friends lose their babies to horrible situations at very, very young ages. In no way did I feel like my situation was close to theirs. I knew it could be worse. I didn't need to be reminded of that. Having people tell me that we had already been through it so it would be easier made me realize that people truly didn't understand what we had been through. How could they? That wasn't their fault. But my reaction was anger.<br />
<br />
I became angry when I would see other pregnant mothers talk about going to their ultrasound and all they cared about was whether it was boy or girl. Part of me wanted to scream, "Yeah, well I hope you find out because our boys didn't cooperate the first time!!! And by the way, I'll be praying that that is the only big news you find out that day!" I would be resentful when every other pregnant mother I saw post on facebook about their ultrasound was posting positive news. Its not like I wanted them to have bad news. Goodness no. It wasn't that at all. I was just jealous (ugh, another horrible emotion) that they were all getting good reports and I hadn't. I also felt jealous of the moms who waited until their baby was born to find out the sex. With all of our babies we had decided to find out at the ultrasound. This time we had talked about waiting but decided not to, but I said that if we have one more baby I definitely want to wait. Well, now that we had two boys with this condition and one girl without, I felt like I'd never get the chance. I knew I'd always want to find out about the feet before the birth, so I feel like that will always tell me. I know it isn't for sure, but still. Its hard. I felt no sympathy for pregnant mothers complaining about aches and pains because, well, their aches and pains were gong to go away after their pregnancy. My baby was going to just begin his when mine were ending.<br />
<br />
I realized that my reactions to other people were illogical, and I felt badly about them. I still do. I love my friends and family dearly and never want them to feel like they did anything "wrong" during this time. I take complete ownership for my anger and resentment. I realize now that I had unrealistic expectations of how other people would react. It wasn't fair of me to place the burden onto them of knowing exactly what I needed to hear. I was turning for comfort in all the wrong places.<br />
<br />
Because I could see the way that I was reacting to people, I didn't really want to reach out to anyone. I desperately wanted people to reach out to me and ask me about things, but I didn't feel comfortable being the one bringing it up. I began to feel very withdrawn. Even the everyday stuff that I would normally have posted on facebook, I began to second guess and keep to myself. I'm sure that no one else really noticed, because I still did post quite a bit. But it was rarely about the stuff I was really feeling. I didn't want to become one of those people that post every single day how they were barely hanging on by a thread. Overall, I was keeping it together. But there was always this enormous weight hanging over me.<br />
<br />
One Wednesday night shortly after we had received the news I went to service at church. Again, I could barely worship as I just cried my way through every song. I kept listening to the words thinking, "How can our God do all of these wonderful things, but put me through this? How can I feel so alone when I know He is there?" I felt like I was being put through some sort of "test" and that I was failing miserably. I wasn't rejoicing in my trials. I wasn't singing praise to God because of all I knew He could do. Instead I was angry, so so angry. I doubted that He would do anything miraculous for us. Satan was really working overtime in my head. He had me convinced of what a horrible Christian I was for not living up to the scripture that I believed to be true. What kind of Christian was I for doubting my God? Why was I having all of these horrible human emotions when I knew in the end everything would be ok because it was in God's hands? I must not have much "real faith", I heard over and over in my head. <br />
<br />
I went to the alter that night and sobbed. A sweet friend from our church came up and prayed with me and just let me cry. I told her how angry I was that we were given this to handle. I told her how God must be so disappointed in me for reacting this way. She told me that I needed to let myself grieve. That I needed to let myself grieve what I thought we were going to have with this baby and what we were now going to go through. Having someone else give me "permission" to do this helped so much. Grief was exactly what I was going through, but I didn't feel like I deserved to go through it. My baby was going to be okay, after all. This was treatable. But oh, how my heart did grieve all that I knew he would experience.<br />
<br />
The anger held on and continued for far longer than I expected or like to admit. It has now been more than two months since we found out about the baby's foot and just within the last few weeks I haven't felt so consumed by this ugly emotion. I can see God working on me. I can feel myself moving on into another phase of emotions. Its not getting easier, but its changing. There are lessons God has taught me during this that I needed to learn, and am still learning.<br />
<br />
People often tell me that I am stronger than I know. I can't say I believe that right now. I feel like the anger is an ugly side of myself that they must not know about when they say things like this. They say that God doesn't give us more than we can handle. I used to say that as well. But I can't say that I agree. After the loss of her child, a dear friend of mine has also said she doesn't agree with this. I truly believe the same thing as she does, and it is this. God does in fact give us more than we can handle, so that we lean on Him. If I could handle all of this, I wouldn't be falling to my knees, literally, crying out to Him. I wouldn't be turning off my text messages and my phone and turning to Him if I could handle this, or if the comfort I could get from those close to me was enough. I feel like He has given me much more than I can handle, so I can learn to trust <i>Him</i> to handle it instead.<br />
<br />
I'll admit it has taken everything in me to publish this post and to publicly acknowledge any of these feelings. I would much rather just keep them to myself. I would much rather keep the pain and the bitterness and the anger in a place where no one else can see them. They are such private, raw, <i>ugly</i> emotions that I would rather not share. I don't want people to think I am doing well because I am able to tell others about these feelings. I'm doing it because I have to believe that someone else out there will benefit from this. Maybe another clubfoot parent. Maybe someone else entirely. I may never know, and that is okay. I just pray that being transparent helps someone.Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-2943375274796727832013-07-30T20:32:00.002-07:002013-07-30T20:33:25.512-07:00The Second Time We Found Out...May 31, 2013So far, most of the posts on this blog have been emotional to write (especially the one about Oliver's first casting...I haven't been able to read it since I wrote/published it). They have been just far enough in the past that I've had time to feel, process, and put all the complex emotions into words that actually make sense.<br />
<br />
Now I'm to the point of writing about what we are currently going through. At first, it was hard for me not to just jump right into this stage and write about it. However, as time as gone on, I've been a bit anxious about writing these. The emotions I'm feeling are still so raw. They are still so open and fresh, and oftentimes, ugly. I'm not always proud of how I'm handling things. Oftentimes I want to hide to myself, no matter how lonely it is, because I fear how others will view how I'm handling our situation. But I'm going to do my best to just put it out there in hopes that I can help someone else along the way who may also be having these feelings. And someday, I'll be able to look back and see how far I have come. <br />
<br />
Friday, May 31, 2013. I had my ultrasound appt early that afternoon, and Jay took a half day to go with me. We took both kids with us, which turned out to be much easier than I expected. I was a total bundle of nerves on the way there. The peace that I remember feeling before Lucy's ultrasound was not with me that day. I still didn't expect that we would find out anything was wrong, but gosh I was so anxious.<br />
<br />
They called us back to the room, and the ultrasound tech did all of the necessary measurements. She asked if we knew boy or girl and we said we didn't know for sure but that we wanted to find out if possible. After she did the measurements she let me get up and go to the bathroom; I had drank so much water on the way there that I was miserable! I came back and she finished the scan. It was really sweet having the kids with us. Oliver sat in the chair next to me and held my hand. Jay stood next to me holding Lucy and she kept pointing to the screen and waving and saying, "Baby!" At first, baby had its legs tight together and wasn't letting us see anything. I couldn't believe it! Thankfully, the baby moved, and the tech pointed between the legs and said, "See that there? It's a little boy!" I looked at Oliver and said, "Did you hear that? It's a boy! You're having a brother!" I wish we had gotten a video or picture of his face. He totally lit up and gasped and said, "A little brother?!?" It was precious!<br />
<br />
Everything was looking good on the baby. I asked to see his feet, and explained that Oliver had been born with clubfoot so we were very curious to see about this little guy. She got a good look at one foot and we could tell it was fine. What a relief! Then she got a view of the other foot. My heart completely fell.<br />
<br />
It was turned. I knew it. I can't even remember exactly what I said or did. I think I just sighed and said, "Ah. Yeah, its turned in." I looked at Jay and tried to smile, and I had to hold it together because the kids were still with us. The ultrasound tech asked where we had had our ultrasounds done with Oliver and I told her. The baby was positioned with his foot pressed up against the side of my uterus, so she had me turn this way and that, all over the place, to try to get him to move and kick his foot out. He sort of did, but he stayed pretty much set in one place. I told her that the foot looked exactly like how Oliver's had looked on his ultrasounds. Instead of the foot bones extending straight out from the leg, they were turned inwards. I really didn't even need her to tell us what she thought, I knew as soon as I saw it.<br />
<br />
Honestly, it didn't even seem real. It seemed absolutely impossible that I was laying on this table, having an ultrasound, and seeing another clubfoot. This couldn't be my baby. I had already seen this...right? Had already been through this? I really couldn't let myself comprehend it just yet.<br />
<br />
The ultrasound tech printed off some pictures for us (none of his clubfoot, which I really wish I had) and led me to a room to wait for my midwife. I was scheduled for an appt with her after my ultrasound. I think at one point, Jay asked me if I was ok because I had tears in my eyes, but I was just trying to hold it together for the kids. I have no idea how well I did because its such a blur. He took the kids out of the office and kept them busy so I could have an easier appointment. I was thankful because I couldn't hold it together much longer.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sweet baby boy. His profile reminds me of Oliver.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I sat in the room and looked at his pictures and just cried. The nurse, whom I just adore, came in and said something like, "Not what you were hoping for? I've been thinking about you all day." For some reason, at first I thought maybe she thought I was crying because we found out we were having a boy and I was upset about that. I have no idea why my mind went there! I could barely talk but said something about one foot being turned in. She gave me a hug and did what she needed to do. She gave me another hug before she left.<br />
<br />
I had to wait awhile for my midwife to come in. I grabbed my phone and realized I had reception. I sat there, desperately wanting to reach out to someone, but not really wanting anyone to respond. At least not directly. I don't know, it was weird. I have a small group of mom friends that I chat with online and they knew I had my appointment that day. I sent out a quick message: "One foot looks like clubfoot. Will update more after my appointment with Kori (midwife). Trying not to fall apart over here." That's all I could get out. As I waited for my midwife, I went back and forth between sobbing and then getting myself together. I kept hoping she would come in while I was in between sob sessions, and looking back I have no idea if I was crying or not when she came in.<br />
<br />
Kori came in and hugged me. She knew this wasn't what I wanted. She was so, so sweet. I kept rambling, saying the same things over and over, as if I could convince myself how okay this was. I would say things like ,"It'll be fine. Its only one foot. It'll be fine." And, "I mean, the first time we went through this we didn't know what to expect. Now we know the doctor we're going to, we know the treatments, its not so overwhelming." Over and over I would repeat myself. And I just cried. Oh how my heart was breaking. It just didn't seem fair that my precious baby was going to go through all of the pain that Oliver did. I don't know how long I spent talking, but it seemed like forever. Probably close to 45 minutes. I was thinking I would have a regular appointment, with listening to the heart tones and everything, but at the end Kori told me since we had had the ultrasound they had all of that information and measurements and she really didn't need to do anything more. Part of me felt badly, then, because I had really taken up so much of her time! I was, and still am, so very thankful for how she handled that appointment. Just letting me talk and cry and process. The whole thing was so completely different and opposite from how my OB appointment went after finding out about Oliver's feet. She encouraged me to just take the time I needed and not feel the need to tell everyone. That was really nice to hear, because I have a tendency to need to update people whether I feel like it or not.<br />
<br />
I got myself together, and went to find Jay and the kids. When we got in the van, I actually turned my phone off completely...something I rarely <i>ever</i> do. But I knew that if people started to text me or even leave me messages on facebook, I would feel the need to respond, and I just couldn't yet. Jay and I took the kids to the mall and walked around for awhile and got something to eat. We tried to act normal and happy, and spent time talking about having another little boy. On the way home we stopped and got a couple of blue balloons to take pictures of the kids with. I had no desire to do a gender reveal party at that point, but wanted something a little fun for them.<br />
<br />
I finally turned my phone on and called my mom. I told her the good news that we had been able to find out we were having a boy! She asked about his feet, and I had to take a big breath before I could answer. She said, "Oh, are they turned in?" She knew before I could even say anything. I said "One is." and my voice just cracked. Tears streamed down my face. We talked for awhile, and she reminded me that God would take care of our little boy. Then she said, "And He'll take care of you, too." That still makes me cry to think of that. Its true, and I knew it, but I needed to hear someone say it.<br />
<br />
We got home and we tried to get some pictures of the kids with their balloons. I was totally impatient with them, which wasn't fair, but I was really struggling. I really hadn't had the time to even digest the news we had received and desperately needed to. After finally getting some pictures, we got things ready for Oliver to spend the night at Jay's parents' house (which he often does on Friday nights) and we headed over there.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/1570_10101218325208518_10700373_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Getting
pictures with these two is always interesting. (Notice Oliver standing
on one leg?!) They are pretty excited about getting a baby brother!!</i></td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
I finally checked my text messages and saw that a couple of people had asked how my appointment with. I started out my replies by sending the picture of the kids and saying, "Its a boy!" Then I told a select few very close friends and family members about his feet. I really couldn't even write it without crying, so I kept things brief. I just couldn't believe this was happening. One friend replied saying she was sorry, but that I knew the baby would be ok. I realized at that point that I needed to stay distanced the rest of the night from telling people. I was not ready to hear from anyone else that things were going to be ok. I was in a very vulnerable place and in order to not be upset, I really needed to guard myself. It wasn't anyone else's fault, it was entirely just the place that I found myself in.<br />
<br />
Later that night, I was getting ready for bed and checking my phone when I saw I had a message from my midwife. Any shred of holding myself together was about to be lost. At my appointment that day, I had told her how Oliver's orthopedic doctor had switched to a different hospital towards the end of Oliver's treatments, and she had asked what his name was. My midwife's mother happened to work at the hospital Dr. Cummiskey was now at, so she wrote down his name so she could ask her if she knew him. Apparently, that evening my midwife had talked to her mom. She found out that Dr. Cummiskey was very ill, and had recently had to shut down his practice.<br />
<br />
I felt a whole surge of emotions flood me again. Just like how I can put myself exactly back to that time when we saw his foot on the ultrasound, I can put myself exactly back in my bathroom when I learned that our doctor wasn't going to be our doctor anymore. It was devastating. I had to re-read her message several times to really believe that I was seeing this. I said some extremely choice words at this point and just started sobbing. Jay came in, and assuming I was upset about the baby's foot, just held me for awhile. I was finally able to tell him about Dr. Cummiskey, and tried to make it seem like all would be ok. But I really felt like everything was crumbling. It was unfair that our baby had clubfoot. Really, <i>really</i> unfair. But ever since Oliver, I had always found comfort in the fact that we had an amazing doctor that we trusted and we knew could treat this condition. That small bit of knowledge and comfort got me through that afternoon after our appointment. And then...it was just stripped away. I was crushed. I was overwhelmed. And I was <i>angry</i>. That was an emotion I was not prepared for. It was an emotion that would overwhelm me in the coming weeks and one that I really had to work through. Anger is a powerful and strong emotion.<br />
<br />
That night before I fell asleep I sent a message to my dear friend, one who I often lean on when I need prayer. I could barely write anything, I was so upset, but I told her I was in a rough place and needed her prayers. That the last bit of comfort I had left was now gone and that Dr. Cummiskey needed our prayers too. My heart was broken for him and his family. She replied with sweet, uplifting messages that helped me get through the darkness of that night. She told me that she was not accepting the diagnosis and was praying complete healing over our son. To be honest, that completely took me aback. I had not even thought to pray like that. I was just so overwhelmed, hurt, confused, and angry that the idea of it not happening, or the possibility of a healing before his birth, had not entered my mind. While I still struggle to pray this way, I am so very thankful that she was praying for me when I myself was unable to pray. Having a loyal friend and trusted prayer partner in life is a precious gift from God. The night I cried myself to sleep, so overwhelmed with emotion that I could barely think straight.<br />
<br />
Over the weekend we tried to celebrate another baby boy being added to our family. We went to dinner Saturday night, and did putt-putt with the kids. Jay's parents met up with us and we did some shopping for the baby, which was so fun. But I just felt this heavy burden on my shoulders the entire time. We were in Babies R Us and I could barely hold it together when I saw an adorable tiny set of boy shoes. What baby needs shoes anyway, right?! But knowing that our son wouldn't be able to wear them because he would have a cast covering his entire leg when he was just a week old was enough to make me crumble. Every tiny sleeper that had feet, or a zipper, or only snapped down one leg was like a slap in the face of what we wouldn't be able to have. My emotions were still so very raw. So selfish. So illogical. We were back to buying clothes based on how they would work with casts and braces. This was my life, again. This. Wasn't. Fair.<br />
<br />
Sunday morning I was supposed to work in the nursery at church, but a dear friend of mine switched with me so that I could be in service. I knew I needed it, but it was so hard. That service was, without a doubt, the hardest one I have ever sat through. Worship is usually a very uplifting time for me. I can raise my hands in praise and glory to the God I know I serve. But that Sunday it felt like I had dead weights on my arms. I couldn't even sing. I literally just stood there in a daze and wiped the tears that fell. The night before I had gathered every bit of strength in me and posted in our church's prayer group about the baby's foot and asked for prayers. I had zero desire to do it. I really didn't want anyone knowing. But I knew we needed prayers. Our baby needed prayers, and I needed to reach out no matter how much I didn't want to.<br />
<br />
I'm so thankful for our church family. They were there with hugs and uplifting words that didn't make me feel like my emotions were stupid or wrong. I didn't feel like I needed to act like I was okay when I was dying inside. I have no idea what was preached on that day. I was in my own world of hurt. I just remember being so angry during worship. I knew that God could do all of these wonderful and miraculous things, and I felt totally forgotten by him. I thought about how Oliver's healing had been a tool for us to tell others about God, and honestly at that moment I had zero desire to have another one of my children used that way. I'm so ashamed to admit that. But its true. "Pick someone else's child," I thought. "Pick me. Use me. But <i>WHY</i> put this tiny, innocent baby through pain???" I screamed angry thoughts in my head that morning to God, and asked Him to forgive my ugliness. I knew I was having a tantrum with Him, but oh I was so angry.<br />
<br />
During alter call, we went up front to pray for our baby. A friend of mine who leads worship came down off the stage to pray for us. To be honest, I was surprised because I hadn't gotten to talk directly to her. My friend wrapped me in her arms and I just sobbed. I was somewhat embarrassed to totally lose it on her, and in front of others. I felt other people come around me, and I was able to somewhat (barely) collect myself. My friend (whose father is our pastor) asked if she could annoint my stomach and pray. Of course I was fine with that. Her prayer was powerful, and she prayed for a miraculous healing over our baby's foot. Again, someone was able to pray for a healing that I myself wasn't able to pray. I will forever be grateful for those who stepped in for me and prayed when I couldn't. I had no idea until later who all was with us praying, when I asked Jay who had come around us. It meant so much and those people in particular really have a special place in my heart. I needed those people's strength and prayers just to keep my head up and my feet walking. I have rarely, if ever, felt such a burden that it felt like physical weight holding me down. There were others that I wished would have been there surrounding us as well, but I knew they were praying regardless. Like I said, my emotions were very selfish at this point.<br />
<br />
The upcoming weeks and months would bring about a lot of feelings and even more tears. Some days I wondered when I would ever stop crying. My joy was completely stripped for a time, and its still not where I would like it to be. Sleep came in spurts and was restless, and still is. Its been almost exactly two months since we found out and I have yet to make it through a Sunday morning service without crying. I know God is working on me. I am starting to see some transformation in my own life that would not have happened without this process. I'm desperately trying to cling to an end vision where the pain is not so intense. I pray that someday in the not-so-distant future I'll be able to tell my testimony and I know this will play a HUGE part in that. I know that this is the hardest trial I have been through so far, and the most that I have ever wrestled with God. I truly can't wait until I have climbed out of the valley and can stand on the mountaintop and say, "My God is always faithful, for He has brought me from <i>there</i> to <i>HERE!"</i><br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>24 weeks pregnant. This was taken the week after our ultrasound. I was trying to smile on the outside, but on the inside I was completely devastated.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
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Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-71904448563668634792013-07-29T12:50:00.000-07:002013-07-29T12:52:21.179-07:00Baby #3..Anxiously WaitingOur first two children, Oliver and Lucy, are just over three years apart. We had hoped to have them more a little closer together, but it took six months to get pregnant with Lucy. I knew that I wanted less space between Lucy and the next one, but had never really thought for sure how much space.<br />
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Lucy was pretty much exclusively breastfeeding for 9 1/2 months. She had some solids here and there after six months, but it didn't become part of her regular diet until after nine months. I tried, but she just had no interest! She also did not sleep more than 3 hours at a time until 8-9 months, so I was nursing very consistently. My cycle did not return until she was exactly 11 months old, and so until that point I hadn't really given a lot of thought as to when we would have another child.<br />
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Once it became a possibility that we could get pregnant again, we talked more about when we wanted another child. The pressure of trying to conceive Lucy was so extremely hard for me that I knew I didn't want that again. I didn't want to wait until one particular month when I knew that was exactly when I would want to get pregnant and then not have it happen and be disappointed. So we decided to just let things go and see what happened. I wasn't tracking my cycles to try to get pregnant, and we weren't actively avoiding it either. (Except for one month, when I realized if we got pregnant then, I would be due on my birthday, which is the day after Jay's birthday, and about a week before Oliver's. I<i> </i>really preferred not to have another August birthday!) I knew that having children closer together could be tough, but I was okay with that.<br />
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I had four cycles before getting pregnant with baby #3. They were very irregular, and if I hadn't learned so much about my fertility when we were trying to conceive with Lucy, I would have had no idea when anything was going on during those cycles. The fifth cycle when we did conceive was also very irregular. When I'm pregnant, I immediately start showing symptoms. The same thing happened this time. I took several early tests that were negative because I took them too soon, but I was just so sure I was pregnant. Finally, 35 days into my cycle, I got a positive test. It was mid-January, 2013. According to my last menstrual cycle, I was 5 weeks pregnant, but I knew I had ovulated late and was only 4 weeks. (An early ultrasound with my midwife confirmed that I was right with how far along I was.)<br />
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The pregnancy was strange. My early symptoms (middle of the night sickness, breast tenderness, aversion to smells) coincided exactly with Oliver's pregnancy. I told Jay right away that I was saying this one was a boy. Then, for about two weeks, all of my symptoms disappeared. It was during these two weeks that I got my positive test. I was pretty worried for awhile that things may not be going well because of the lack of symptoms. Oh, how I spoke too soon. I ended up being so sick for more than half of the pregnancy, which was more like Lucy's pregnancy. With our first two pregnancies, we told everyone right away. This time, we decided to wait awhile. I really wanted to make sure that things were ok with the baby, and just wanted to keep this to ourselves for awhile before telling all of our friends and family.<br />
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My first appointment was in early February. By that point I was feeling nauseated a lot and didn't have a big appetite. I was still feeling like this pregnancy was a lot like Oliver's, and in the back of my mind I wondered if in fact this baby was a boy, if we would deal with clubfoot again. But I never really even considered it a possibility at that point. I just thought if we do deal with it, then at least we'll know exactly who to go to and what to expect. We decided to tell our families on Valentine's Day, which was a fun surprise.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Announcing baby #3! This picture makes me laugh. Oliver is happy, as usual, and Lucy's looking unimpressed, as usual. :-)</i></td></tr>
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Just like in Lucy's pregnancy, I struggled with how to pray for this baby. I had said in the past, "If Oliver's struggles brought one person to know Jesus Christ, then it was worth it, and I'd do it all over again." But to be honest, when faced with the reality that maybe we <i>would</i> have to do it all over again, I wasn't so firm in my statement. Not so much because of my own emotion of it all (although that certain played into it), but because I knew how incredibly painful it would be for the baby. My prayers would be all over the place..."God, I'm trying to just trust in Your plan. Please don't let this baby have clubfoot. But if it does, we will use it for Your glory. If it does, please let it bring someone to know you. But please don't let it happen. But I'll trust you if it does. I'm just putting this in Your hands, Lord. But You know my heart. Please don't let it be." Yeah, completely and totally disorganized.<br />
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I could really feel Satan working on me at times during the pregnancy. There was one particular Wednesday night service when our pastor was talking about faith and miracles, and mentioned Oliver's healing. It was right after that that I started feeling so guilty about wanting another "normal" non-clubfoot baby. I started thinking, "Wow, how selfish of me for wanting that. I mean, if we had another baby who could be an example of God's grace, how could I be praying against that?" I have to say, it is astounding to me how Satan knows our weaknesses and uses them against us. I had to quickly take those thoughts captive and shut them out. God knew my heart. He knew I wasn't being selfish praying for my child to not have clubfoot. I just had to believe that as well.<br />
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At the very end of April, I had a quick ultrasound just to see if we could tell the sex of the baby. I had really hoped to find out because I wanted to have a gender reveal party for this baby. I thought great, have an ultrasound to see the sex before we have our big ultrasound. That way, if the baby does have clubfoot, we won't know right away and can just be excited about baby being a boy or a girl.<br />
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Well. Remember how we couldn't tell for sure with Oliver because the cord was laying right between his legs? Yeah. The <i>SAME THING</i> happened this time!!!! I couldn't freaking believe it. My midwife turned on the ultrasound and we looked at his profile and everything, and then she turned it away to see if she could see anything. She kind of laughed and said, "Ok, you have to see this." and turned the screen back toward us. She pointed and said, "You see this? Leg. Cord. Leg. The umbilical cord is laying right between the legs." I just had to laugh. Are you kidding me?! At that point, it was almost a joke that surely baby had to be a boy since Oliver had done the same thing. But seriously, why the heck couldn't we tell?! Pretty much every other person I know has been able to see on their ultrasound the first time whether they are having a boy or a girl. I was a day away from 19 weeks, so plenty far along. It was both frustrating and humorous. So the gender reveal party was postponed. I had to text everyone later and say that perhaps we would have it next month, because baby was very uncooperative!! During that ultrasound I tried to peak a little at his feet, but didn't really look too hard. From what I saw, I thought one of them looked fine, but honestly I didn't really want to know just yet.<br />
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So the countdown until my big ultrasound continued. I would be just past 23 weeks when we had that. Jay was going to go and we would end up taking both kids with us. In the meantime, I just prayed. I prayed that God would give me peace about the whole situation. I prayed that he knew my heart and to forgive me if I was praying against His plan, but to please not make us go through this again. Part of me really resented the fact that I couldn't just be excited about an ultrasound, but instead spent the beginning half of every pregnancy worrying. It didn't seem "fair". I really appreciated everyone else who prayed for us during that time as well. They all seemed confident that we wouldn't have to go through it again, and I clung to that hope. I was both looking forward to and totally dreading May 31.<br />
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<br />Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-82120197548602022832013-07-25T20:51:00.000-07:002013-07-25T20:56:26.900-07:00Baby #2...A Little Girl with Straight Feet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I remember the first time Jay and I really talked about having another baby (as in seriously, "hey we should think about this soon") was actually on the way to Oliver's last orthopedic appointment. Oliver was almost 21 months old, and was quite a handful as a toddler. I love that child dearly but boy has he always kept us so, so busy!<br />
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Getting pregnant with Oliver was very easy, and I assumed it would be the second time also. We decided to wait until just after Oliver's second birthday to start trying, and I was shocked when it didn't happen right away. In fact, it took us six months to conceive our second child. Six long, difficult months. When all you want is a child, each passing month, week, day can seem agonizing at times. I'm not saying this to be dramatic; it truly can be heartbreaking. I can now look back and see how much my faith grew during this period of time. All I could do was pray and lean on God to give us a child in His perfect timing.<br />
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Oliver was almost two and a half when we finally found out we were expecting another baby. I was so excited and <i>relieved</i>. We were excited to tell everyone as soon as we could. I was only 3 weeks and 2 days pregnant when I got a positive test. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Positive!! I think I took about 10 of these tests...it just seemed too good to be true!</i></td></tr>
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Oliver's pregnancy was relatively easy. I was very nauseated for the first 10 weeks but rarely threw up. With Lucy's pregnancy, the vomiting started before I even got my positive test. I was very sick until about halfway through my pregnancy and it was exhausting. The two pregnancies seemed so very different, and I had a strong feeling this one was a little girl. (But remember my strong feeling about Oliver being a girl, too? Yeah. I didn't put too much stock into my "gut feelings".)<br />
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One thing I did feel very strongly about was that our baby would not have clubfeet. I can't explain it, exactly. But I was perfectly at peace about it, and had been since before we even got pregnant again. I remember telling Jay that I didn't think we would go through it again, that I really believed that wasn't part of God's plan for us. When we first found out about Oliver's feet during my pregnancy, we were kinda going to church, kinda not. We hadn't found a church to really call "home" yet. Shortly after that ultrasound, we actively started going to church again and I really felt like we had been able to use Oliver's healing as a testimony. I felt like we had walked down that road, used it for God's glory, and our life was moving on to even better things. It almost makes me sad to think back on how optimistic I was then. I really had no idea what life held for us. I wouldn't know until May 2013 when baby #3 showed another clubfoot.<br />
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I struggled with how to pray for our second baby. I mean, I could see how God had used Oliver's situation in such glorious ways. We found a church family and grew in our faith so much. I had no choice but to rely on God to get me through some of those very difficult times. We were able to tell people about God's healing powers and use Oliver as an example. What an amazing opportunity and blessing. If baby #2 could do the same, how could I pray for us not to go through clubfeet again? If baby #2 had clubfoot and could reach someone for Christ, how could I pray against that? It truly was hard. I would lay hands on my stomach and pray for God's will to be done. I knew that God knew my heart. He knew I didn't want to go through this again. But I trusted His plan.<br />
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On our way to our ultrasound in May 2011, I felt very peaceful about the whole thing. I really hoped we would find out the baby's sex and prayed that the baby would have straight feet. Oliver and my mom went with me and Jay to the scan.<br />
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At our ultrasound, our baby was laying in a funny position which made it hard to see much. The baby was laying transverse (sideways), bent at the waist with the feet up by the head. It was hard to see both the feet and between the legs ;) but we were finally able to get a pretty good look at the sex. <i>We were having a girl!!</i> I wasn't surprised at all. The ultrasound tech didn't really want to say for sure, but showed us what she was looking at and agreed that it did look like a girl. I felt like she was just confirming something I already knew. I asked the tech how the baby's feet looked, and explained that our son had been born with clubfoot. Baby girl moved around some, and it was hard to get a good look but from what we could all see, her feet looked perfect. What an amazing blessing. I breathed a sigh of relief.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Baby girl looking right at the camera. You can actually see the lense of her eye! Her hands were up by her face, right under her chin.</i></td></tr>
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We went back two months later for a second ultrasound to double-check everything. This time, baby girl was breech, sitting on her feet. It was hard, again, to get a good look, but from what we could see everything looked good. It was a relief, but I wasn't surprised a bit. For that second ultrasound, a dear friend of mine went with us. I was excited to have her along to see our little baby, and knew that if in fact something did show up, I would want her to be there with us. Having her there to hear the good news was wonderful as well. I felt like we could finally say, for sure, "We are having a baby girl with perfectly straight feet."<br />
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Towards the end of Lucy's pregnancy, I switched from my OB to a midwife in order to have the supported natural birth that I desired. My midwife knew about Oliver's feet, as did my doula and of course our families. I went into labor with Lucy on my due date, and she was born early the next morning. I remember everyone laughing as she let our her first cry because it sounded so...<i>girly</i>. Oh how I loved her already. I remember being so thankful for so many things...that I was able to go into labor naturally (not induced), that I was supported and loved during my labor and natural birth (not bullied or pressured into any unwanted interventions or medications), that she was born on exactly the day God had planned for her (not one that I picked), and that she and I were both healthy. I was so overwhelmed with emotions. I first asked, "Is she still a girl?" Yes, she was. "Are her feet ok?" Yes. Yes, they were. It meant a lot to me that the people in the room with me (my midwife and doula, along with my mom and Jay) knew how special it was for us to see Lucy's perfect feet.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Me giving Lucy her first bath when she was several hours old. It was very special for me to be a part of this since I wasn't even able to see Oliver get his.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oh sweet little feet.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lucy's first outfit...a sleeper with feet! And a hair bow of course :)</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lucy's going home outfit, complete with tiny, little shoes.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
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Lucy's newborn days were not easy. Most people have no idea how much I struggled adjusting to two children. It was very, very tough. We had an extremely rough start to breastfeeding (I didn't breastfeed Oliver so this was new to me) and she was a very high needs baby. Jay had just started working third shift two weeks before she was born. Taking care of both kids at night by myself (Oliver was waking up at least once a night at that time) was tough and I became extremely exhausted. My postpartum recovery was slow and painful. I tried to rush back into "normal" life and didn't really respect that special time after birth where a mother and baby should just get to know one another. Lesson learned! I swore that with our next baby I would take much more time to just rest. I would not be on the go constantly. I would do what needed to be done because life obviously has to continue, but I wouldn't be on the go so much.<br />
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Despite all of our struggles, I truly appreciated having a baby that did not have clubfeet. I loved being able to give her baths, or have her get in the bath with me (especially during those rough breastfeeding sessions). I would sit and just rub her legs and feet and look at her. I remember when she was 8 days old being so thankful that we weren't on our way to have casts put on those precious little legs. I loved putting little socks on her, and dressed her in outfits with cute little leggings. Her feet were so small that most shoes didn't fit her, but I would occasionally put some on her just because I could. I could hold her on my chest and let her curl up easily. I would just sit and think, <i>*This* is what its like to have a "normal" baby.</i> There was something so simple, yet so sweet, about enjoying my baby just as she was. No casts. No braces. No heartache about all she was enduring. We had so much to be thankful for. Lucy was, and continues to be, such a blessing to us. I adore that little girl.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Heading home as a family of 4. Daddy, Lucy (about 13 hours), Oliver (3 years), and Mommy.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lucy and me, Easter 2013.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lucy, almost 20 months old. This little sweetie has taught me so much about myself and being a mother. </i></td></tr>
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<br />Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-45338829242228427572013-07-23T19:49:00.006-07:002013-07-23T19:54:51.364-07:00Clubfoot Gear the First Time AroundOne thing about having a clubfoot baby is that some baby items aren't very convenient- or possible- to use. Sometimes it was just trial and error to see if something worked for us, and other times it was pretty obvious. It's been almost 5 years ago now that we went through this with Oliver, so it will be interesting to see what works for us now compared to what I used then. Some of my favorite items were...<br />
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1. <b>Sleepy Wrap (now called Boba Wrap)</b><br />
<a href="http://store.bobafamily.com/baby-wrap/?show=features">http://store.bobafamily.com/baby-wrap/?show=features </a><br />
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I loved being able to wear Oliver in a sling when he was little. A pouch sling worked for awhile, but once he got his braces on the pouch didn't work. I ended up getting a Sleepy Wrap, which is similar to a Moby wrap. It worked so well for us. The Sleepy Wrap was stretchy, so it was very easy to get his braces in and out of the wrap.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/729_601884107468_7260_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I loved this wrap! It was so easy to get Oliver in and out with his braces on.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="300" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/1924_608411815888_5378_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Love my sweet, blue-eyed boy.</i></td></tr>
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2. <b>Beco Butterfly Soft-Structured Carrier</b><br />
<a href="http://www.becobabycarrier.com/index.asp">http://www.becobabycarrier.com/index.asp </a><br />
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This was another carrier that I got when Oliver was about 4 months old. They don't make this specific style anymore, but I have heard others say that the Beco Gemini is good for clubfoot babies. Again, since baby Max will most likely be wearing a bar and boots brace instead of KAFO braces like Oliver, this could make a difference. The Beco Butterfly carrier opened up nicely and I could easily get him in and out with the bulky braces. But I know some soft structured carriers have the baby's legs spread too wide for a bar and boots brace to work. I loved my Beco, and still have it, so I'll give it a try with Max and see how it goes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-frc3/3925_648227794348_7974219_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oliver was just in braces at night at this point, but he loved this carrier and so did I.</i></td></tr>
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3. <b>Snap PJs</b><br />
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Any PJs that snapped completely down the legs on both sides (no cuffs) were essential for Oliver. Some PJs would snap down only one leg, or they would snap almost to the bottom but have a cuff, and those didn't work well at all. In order to change his diaper I would have to take them completely off, since Oliver couldn't bend his legs to get them out of the PJs when he had his braces on. We also used some sleeping gowns during the early weeks when he was in his casts.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/1954_607742796608_2960_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Snap PJs and outfits were great for Oliver!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
4. <b>Sling Bath Mat</b><br />
<br />
It took some practice to give Oliver a bath with his casts on. We mainly did sponge baths, but I liked being able to put him in the bath tub instead of getting everything ready and carrying it to another place. But giving a baby a bath when you can't get any part of their legs or feet wet can be interesting. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="300" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/331_590284049078_880_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Bath time!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
5. <b>Jumperoo</b><br />
<br />
For Oliver's first Christmas, my parents got him a Fisher Price rainforest jumperoo. He would go nuts in this thing! I loved how much it worked his leg muscles.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-e-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/1924_607959153028_1267_n.jpg" style="height: 571px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 428px;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>He loved bouncing. :)</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="300" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/1924_610067098688_1360_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>All smiles!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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6. <b>Stretchy Pants</b><br />
<br />
Any kind of pants Oliver wore had to be really stretchy to fit over his casts or braces. Sometimes we could find jeans that fit, but that wasn't often. Pants like these from Carter's were great for him.<br />
<br />
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<img alt="Essential 2-pack Pants" src="http://demandware.edgesuite.net/sits_na/dw/image/v2/AADY_PRD/on/demandware.static/Sites-Carters-Site/Sites-carters_master_catalog/default/v1374563692325/images/121B685_Default.jpg?sw=221&sh=221" style="opacity: 1;" title="Essential 2-pack Pants" /><br />
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<br />
7. <b>Socks</b><br />
<br />
Socks became a slight obsession as well. It seemed as though once I found socks that worked the best for him and his braces, I would buy several pairs every time I went to the store. Socks had to be long (no cute ankle socks) and thin (no fuzzy or thick socks). Especially at first, Oliver's feet and legs would sweat a lot and we changed his socks constantly. The $1 socks from Target became our favorite.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="400" id="irc_mi" src="http://www.alittlesimplicity.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/babysocks.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Anyone who has shopped for a baby at Target has seen a display like this. We owned a TON of these socks! Image from </i><br />
<span class="irc_hd irc_iis"><a class="irc_hol irc_itl" data-ved="0CAQQjB0" href="http://www.alittlesimplicity.com/2011/03/target-11-circo-coupon-match-ups/"><span class="irc_ho">www.alittlesimplicity.com</span></a></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="irc_hd irc_iis"></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="irc_hd irc_iis"><span class="irc_dim"></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
8. <b>Bumbo</b>. This did and didn't work for us. The leg openings were a bit small, so if he sat in it with his braces, he would sometimes get stuck. But Oliver loved it, so we made it work. It was really nice for restaurants, too. We kept an extra Bumbo in the trunk of our car and would always ask for a booth at a restaurant. It was easier to get him in and out of the Bumbo than a highchair.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://sphotos-a-iad.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/344_592566365298_4020_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oliver's first time in a Bumbo...and you can also see how the footy pants looked over his braces. They fit, technically, but you can tell how bulky they were underneath the pants.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Things that Didn't Work For Us...<br />
<br />
*<b>Short, thick socks.</b> They didn't give Oliver's legs enough coverage in the braces and were too hot and sweaty.<br />
<br />
*<b>Tight pants or pants with cuffs. </b> They needed to be stretchy to fit over his casts or braces.<br />
<br />
*<b>Baby bathtubs.</b> I had to keep the water off of his legs, so baths in general were not easy. The baby bathtub sling like I mentioned above was what worked best, but still wasn't the easiest.<br />
<br />
<b>*Pouch slings.</b> They worked ok when he was in casts (still not easy) but his legs didn't fit in them once he had braces.<br />
<br />
*<b>Shoes.</b> All those cute little baby shoes? Yeah, Oliver couldn't wear any of them. He didn't get his first pair of shoes until he was 8 months old. I remember seeing all the little girl shoes and thinking I was glad I didn't have a girl because I'd be so sad to not get to use those cute little dress shoes!<br />
<br />
<b>*Footy PJs</b>. Soooo many pajamas have feet, or only snap/zip down one leg. None of those worked for Oliver, so when I found something that worked, I stocked up.<br />
<br />
There were also certain high chairs and things like that that didn't work well with Oliver's braces. Since he couldn't bend his legs, it made shopping carts and chairs hard to get him in and out of. I was so very thankful that he liked being worn in carriers because it made my life much easier.<br />
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<br />Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-78128285470351443402013-07-21T20:28:00.000-07:002013-07-21T20:31:06.965-07:00Quick Overview of Clubfoot and the Ponseti Method<br />
When I mention that we have a son who was born with clubfoot, or when I say that we are expecting another baby with the same condition, many people ask what exactly it is. I wanted to do a quick post here to give some basic information about what clubfoot is, the treatment for it, and a bit about our family history with it. Forgive me for not being too specific or scholarly with this...my history major background is cringing at the lack of citations and proof reading. :) One thing I have learned is there is a lot of variation with how things can happen with clubfoot. Each case is unique.<br />
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Most of my information has come from Ponseti International website. You can visit it here: <a href="http://www.ponseti.info/"> http://www.ponseti.info</a><br />
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Clubfoot is a treatable birth defect that occurs in approximately 1 in every 1,000 live births. About half of all of those affected with clubfoot have it in both feet, known as bilateral clubfoot. It occurs in males twice as frequently as females. I find this especially interesting since Oliver had bilateral clubfoot, Lucy wasn't affected, and now we have another son on the way who is expected to have a right clubfoot.<br />
<br />
Physicians have observed that fetuses that develop clubfoot start
with a normal foot and then the foot begins to turn inward around the
third month. Most children born with clubfoot are not missing any bones,
muscles, or connective tissue. It is a congenital condition, meaning
that when it occurs it is always present at birth. <a href="http://www.blogger.com/(http://www.ponseti.info/clubfoot-and-the-ponseti-method/what-is-clubfoot/learn-about-clubfoot.html)"><i>(http://www.ponseti.info/clubfoot-and-the-ponseti-method/what-is-clubfoot/learn-about-clubfoot.html)</i></a><br />
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It is not known exactly what causes clubfoot. While it is not always genetic, there is a family history in some cases. My husband, Jay, was born with clubfoot. He had casts and an extensive surgery on one foot. <br />
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Thankfully, the surgery that Jay had as a baby is no longer the norm for treatment of clubfoot. Jay has a lot of pain in that foot, especially if he is on his feet for a long period of time. The "gold standard" for treating clubfoot now is called the Ponseti method. <br />
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The Ponseti method is mainly non-surgical. It is recommended that it begins within the first week or two after birth to take advantage of the baby's flexibility. The baby's foot is turned into a specific position and casted. The casts are then changed every 5-7 days. Most clubfeet can be corrected with 5-7 castings (sometimes less, sometimes more). At the end of the castings, a minor surgery is usually needed to lengthen the baby's tendon(s). This is called a tenotomy and the baby will be casted again afterwards. This cast is left on for a longer period of time (usually 3 weeks, although this can vary). Some doctors do this surgery in office with a local anesthetic; others prefer to do it in an operating room under general <span class="st">anesthesia</span>. <br />
<br />
After the last casts come off, the baby wears a brace. Called "bar and boots", this is a brace that keeps the baby's feet in place. A pair of "shoes" (special orthodic shoes called AFOs) is placed at a specific degree keeping the baby's feet turned outwards and set onto a bar. There are different types of bar and boots braces. Some are a fixed bar, in which the baby must move their feet simultaneously. Others are a hinged bar (called a Dobbs bar, developed by Dr. Matthew Dobbs, one of the nation's leading experts in clubfoot) and allows the baby to move their feet separately. It is recommended that the child wear the brace for 23 hours a day for the first 3 months and then slowly work down to wearing the brace just while they are sleeping. Children usually wear the brace during the night for up to 4 years (sometimes more) to prevent relapse. This website shows the Dobbs bar and some adorable children wearing them! <a href="http://www.dobbsbrace.com/">http://www.dobbsbrace.com</a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/null">/ </a><br />
<br />
Oliver's treatment seemed to follow the Ponseti method except for the bracing. He was also one of the few who did not need the tendon surgery. Oliver wore KAFO braces and was done just after his first birthday. As I read about stories of relapse, I am amazed at how God took care of our little guy. I'm not sure why our orthopedic doctor at the time varied from the Ponseti method when it came to Oliver's bracing treatment. I'm just thankful it all worked out.<br />
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While it is said that the Ponseti method is not exactly difficult to learn, it is very precise. We live just outside of a major city in Indiana that has a large orthopedic practice. However, there are no orthopedic doctors sub-specialized in pediatrics within this group, so none of them know how to treat clubfoot. Each cast has to be set a specific degree and variation. The doctor that we saw with Oliver is no longer practicing due to health issues, so we are in the process of looking at our options. In about a week and a half I have a consultation with a doctor about two hours away. I have also been in touch with Dr. Dobbs who is located in St. Louis. After my consultation with the doctor who is located in our state, Jay and I will discuss what option would be best for our family.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE3h6L8x-lkM2NayMc3Z2hYKuveOir9d4BiWyQkdipSOfb0MRKApTkc0tbzlfA1iGYTn83ADeZ9ZlmyCv0j66f0Tz3y1EQhz0j26N3s20NbSiskd3PmSxmrk5JnVmI2k5RvxO7JW1bLYno/s1600/IMG_2227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE3h6L8x-lkM2NayMc3Z2hYKuveOir9d4BiWyQkdipSOfb0MRKApTkc0tbzlfA1iGYTn83ADeZ9ZlmyCv0j66f0Tz3y1EQhz0j26N3s20NbSiskd3PmSxmrk5JnVmI2k5RvxO7JW1bLYno/s320/IMG_2227.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It never ceased to amaze me how happy this little guy was. He has brought us so much joy!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-79401740940552130602013-07-18T21:31:00.002-07:002013-07-18T21:44:34.416-07:00Oliver's BracesAfter we found out the news that Oliver was going to be done with casts on October 30, 2008 we had to go and get him fitted for his KAFO (Knee, Ankle, Foot Orthodic) braces. Honestly, I can't remember now how soon after his casts came off that we went for the fitting. I don't think it was the same day, perhaps the next day. Oliver had a weekend of "free feet" in between getting his casts off and getting his new braces. It was so nice to have that time with him! I remember being ecstatic that the casts were off and we were ready for the new phase of his treatment. I really had no idea what to expect with the braces, but surely they had to be better than casts, right?!<br />
<br />
When we went for his braces fitting, they showed us a bunch of different "plates" that had design on them for the braces. We decided on the blue swirl one, and I remember thinking how cute the girly patterns were. Then the casted him (ugh, I grew to HATE anything to do with casts) with some quick-setting material and cut the casts off. Boy was it nice to see a cast come off right away! Oliver was fidgety during the casting, and I just kept telling him it was going to come right off. He was pretty much a pro at being casted by this point, but you could tell he was still not a big fan of the whole process.<br />
<br />
I didn't think the braces would be too big of a deal. I'm not sure why...it just seemed so much better having a baby in leg braces than in casts. I still have both sets of Oliver's leg braces. They look so tiny now when I look at them. Its hard to believe he was just two months old when he got his first pair. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTEIxhhP2JkGFwXKDC1KM8_EnhjiWtXI05jOMxyNdUcbjPo8mKIC20FX3FGVTODExk0kmdmbFzxoM84jCk_SQBN-YAtU-MH9dayE6JB3_5u-lIawQgEJO_fwSX88zcZ7NlA8F-AgbihBiM/s1600/IMG_1427.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTEIxhhP2JkGFwXKDC1KM8_EnhjiWtXI05jOMxyNdUcbjPo8mKIC20FX3FGVTODExk0kmdmbFzxoM84jCk_SQBN-YAtU-MH9dayE6JB3_5u-lIawQgEJO_fwSX88zcZ7NlA8F-AgbihBiM/s320/IMG_1427.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>November 2008. Oliver's first pair of KAFO (Knee, Ankle, Foot Orthodic) braces.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4dVm8NNnJPl_k3gGfqBz06ewCyzvxJ_VQybXO9kJbP7raFRhxBWTKPlEdHpxV2rQN59eltDkTcXWvzsxRvv8YmpsEotaniUqRkwHnOI76vLODuMob9Sd9pF_661Gy1c20s11du9TyRH_/s1600/IMG_1428.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4dVm8NNnJPl_k3gGfqBz06ewCyzvxJ_VQybXO9kJbP7raFRhxBWTKPlEdHpxV2rQN59eltDkTcXWvzsxRvv8YmpsEotaniUqRkwHnOI76vLODuMob9Sd9pF_661Gy1c20s11du9TyRH_/s320/IMG_1428.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>We got to pick out the blue swirl design for them. I remember thinking how much cuter the girl patterns were. ;)</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwaBxvmWEQjqq79hZL_jjQGHgV95-nNFi-LTmjWjaRbTS8EMo09t50NWk2Ih9YmTkXNPay2uBDUGVCnTXpHoUb6qywYW0y95_pcXWFC4__JDCZetEU5s4i6A4dJYzWaqVEET9EXK838Ns/s1600/IMG_1429.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwaBxvmWEQjqq79hZL_jjQGHgV95-nNFi-LTmjWjaRbTS8EMo09t50NWk2Ih9YmTkXNPay2uBDUGVCnTXpHoUb6qywYW0y95_pcXWFC4__JDCZetEU5s4i6A4dJYzWaqVEET9EXK838Ns/s320/IMG_1429.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>His little leg. He would end up having two sets of these braces before he was done with them. They were slightly adjustable; I think each set was lengthened a bit one time.</i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrK16-Pcs5_4CijuAY5OeTyzAzk_d7hOj_eO-M1JYTVHdy8ZrHa5VaRiSb4t4RZnRA-wp_IRMxaVU4IMZio4N3zHFZn_WlfA_vWurU1jSQ7qtQoJMr1QWZNwgr13zIJihkI20lpWe0UTD/s1600/IMG_1430.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzrK16-Pcs5_4CijuAY5OeTyzAzk_d7hOj_eO-M1JYTVHdy8ZrHa5VaRiSb4t4RZnRA-wp_IRMxaVU4IMZio4N3zHFZn_WlfA_vWurU1jSQ7qtQoJMr1QWZNwgr13zIJihkI20lpWe0UTD/s320/IMG_1430.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>We became
experts on which socks fit best with the braces. Tall, thin socks
(Target Circo ones were my favorite.) quickly filled his sock drawer. </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBV4HU6e7B1cMXfuqgCLfvj3I9uVZMBbUDQcpQ_toErgq4M50w19reW2jY5tX_0NbZ6QfgzpqMP-WzzLyuhyphenhyphen2tZemHcHjbc3q607DhckmzSKQplsz_sdCXFvo2rwT1qUVqAElITIl0AX9Q/s1600/IMG_2137.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br /></a>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I was somewhat
surprised by how "bulky" the braces seemed. The casts were heavy and
big, but the braces were really wide especially at the top. The first
night we got them, I tried to put him in a pouch sling and couldn't
really get him in. I had been able to wear him in that particular sling
while he was in casts, but the braces were really just too big. I was
taken off guard by that and was sad. Just another reminder of how
things were never going to be "normal" for us.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Oliver
had to wear his braces for about 23 hours a day. We were allowed to
take them off for an hour a day, and I usually split it up into two half
hour times. At first I was very, very strict about it but I'll admit
as the months went on there were times I would let him be out of them
for a bit longer. Not too long, I didn't want his feet to turn back in,
but I didn't watch the clock like a hawk every time I took them off.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />It
was awesome being able to give our little guy a real bath. I loved
those times with him. In that way, the braces were WAY better than the
casts.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Oliver
adjusted really well to the braces. He never really seemed bothered by
them at all. He was such a happy, easy going baby. Amazing, really,
considering all he had gone through in such a short period of time. </span><i> </i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBV4HU6e7B1cMXfuqgCLfvj3I9uVZMBbUDQcpQ_toErgq4M50w19reW2jY5tX_0NbZ6QfgzpqMP-WzzLyuhyphenhyphen2tZemHcHjbc3q607DhckmzSKQplsz_sdCXFvo2rwT1qUVqAElITIl0AX9Q/s1600/IMG_2137.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBV4HU6e7B1cMXfuqgCLfvj3I9uVZMBbUDQcpQ_toErgq4M50w19reW2jY5tX_0NbZ6QfgzpqMP-WzzLyuhyphenhyphen2tZemHcHjbc3q607DhckmzSKQplsz_sdCXFvo2rwT1qUVqAElITIl0AX9Q/s320/IMG_2137.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our happy
little guy. Pants that were wide and/or stretchy were a necessity to
fit over his braces. They were quite wide, especially at the top.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
As Oliver got bigger and more mobile, especially at night, his braces made co-sleeping harder. I would often get bruises from him kicking me during the night. I considered transitioning him to his own bed many times, but I really loved having him close. Despite the obstacles, co-sleeping still worked best for us.<br />
<br />
In some ways, I think having the braces made things a little harder for Oliver. He didn't sit up on his own until almost 7 months. He rolled from his belly to his back very early (at one month) but didn't roll from back to belly until about 7 months also. Who knows....none of those things made him "delayed" exactly. It was just you could tell the braces would get in his way sometimes.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYTud23Q8SNk1P5jZVoiePQ27XjEKi5asgh0hV6D8xqhqqa-Ax_cGE6IFjNrJZvT_mQAywagrmimnf0GhX0AAYfqL_jheh8u5pdHD558IbtfpNCkZB4mDWu7cMIDfP-oHuy_-m9IYjtQ3/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYTud23Q8SNk1P5jZVoiePQ27XjEKi5asgh0hV6D8xqhqqa-Ax_cGE6IFjNrJZvT_mQAywagrmimnf0GhX0AAYfqL_jheh8u5pdHD558IbtfpNCkZB4mDWu7cMIDfP-oHuy_-m9IYjtQ3/s320/025.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My sweet boy learning to sit up on his own. Look at those awesome-looking feet! :)</i></td></tr>
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Once Oliver was in braces, we went back to Dr. Cummiskey after one month and then every 3 months. Oliver continued to wear the braces for 23 hours for most of that time. Around 8 months old, I took him for a routine check-up and was told he could just wear them at night. I was shocked! I really didn't know what the wearing schedule would be; it was all just kind of touch and go for awhile to see how he was doing. We went back about two and a half months later to make sure he wasn't relapsing, and that check-up went awesome as well.<br />
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Having Oliver in braces just at night made our life so different. We were able to put him in a high chair at a restaurant, something we hadn't been able to do before because it was hard to get the high chair close enough to the table since he couldn't bend his knees. Just carrying him felt so different. He never fought us to put them on at night, and it just seemed like we were slowly moving away from all that we went through with him as an infant. It was nice.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3BRx8D7OY7mR-ogZn-hakKMqqWNcVTJxyykXMQGtfjtKHzmt2hpDB9Ly3Q5DKADbddFLg4Ej45EAzUVfHJigQjDpg7mCDnVhtUIW3xt9qQIcduDrWtzI4k2cbWNRX9geqRe4DfG0mCNi/s1600/042.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3BRx8D7OY7mR-ogZn-hakKMqqWNcVTJxyykXMQGtfjtKHzmt2hpDB9Ly3Q5DKADbddFLg4Ej45EAzUVfHJigQjDpg7mCDnVhtUIW3xt9qQIcduDrWtzI4k2cbWNRX9geqRe4DfG0mCNi/s320/042.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oliver around 8 months old. Enjoying some braces free time. His feet look perfect!</i></td></tr>
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Oliver's next appointment was when he was just over a year old. He wasn't quite walking yet, but the doctor was able to see him walk holding on to my hands and see how his foot placement was. Dr. Cummiskey was very pleased.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3yHSxryn7rw3_KwoikYkHaW3PzahMolcPKdNsNhCu5gbJ1UHdaGOfhHEbo_vNvpeFcx-cZfUYzH5s4OR8bkWZAX3hQNDkqlTdRFPSo-QVZvSGsY06p7GgY3O-EHax0QY0GdwC9DF8RKay/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3yHSxryn7rw3_KwoikYkHaW3PzahMolcPKdNsNhCu5gbJ1UHdaGOfhHEbo_vNvpeFcx-cZfUYzH5s4OR8bkWZAX3hQNDkqlTdRFPSo-QVZvSGsY06p7GgY3O-EHax0QY0GdwC9DF8RKay/s320/001.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>September 2009. It was fun watching Oliver "walk" around the examining room. He had come so far.</i></td></tr>
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At that check-up in September 2009 we were told that Oliver's feet looked so good that we were going to try going braces-free for awhile and see how he did. That was the most wonderful news. I had no doubt that his feet would continue to look perfect. The possibility of relapse never really entered my mind. Two months later we went back and he still looked great. Oliver started walking around 14 months or so. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13SN-wmQ1kkBfOmnYn1d7FCr9Pdld9zzkgZW7zCbJKcxJy6wIgws3IcLbQyjhN0yruASXq5CLhB7OZEnx2Tf9tgN68jS_jek3IzJcV3nqAT-3w5PZ73zUolb7MD6JM7Ds4ecSqZsFNvDR/s1600/IMG_4955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13SN-wmQ1kkBfOmnYn1d7FCr9Pdld9zzkgZW7zCbJKcxJy6wIgws3IcLbQyjhN0yruASXq5CLhB7OZEnx2Tf9tgN68jS_jek3IzJcV3nqAT-3w5PZ73zUolb7MD6JM7Ds4ecSqZsFNvDR/s320/IMG_4955.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oliver, November 2009. Two months braces free and his feet remained looking great.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We scheduled another appointment for six months later. We had hopes that it would be his last appointment. We continued to do the stretches that we had been doing since his casts came off and his feet remained flexible.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHu8OzW6FyqNIokTnZpGddtR_V2vt6I3xmPNETzulRZ03MVCQt2WaUkVPGtWx3517nqIWcMnCSGRsW5UVpugr3dUypDcRBpDGqWCH0xMBC0W5UdNBRPi0abAcwCYev7raamLeq6qKjEBUj/s1600/062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHu8OzW6FyqNIokTnZpGddtR_V2vt6I3xmPNETzulRZ03MVCQt2WaUkVPGtWx3517nqIWcMnCSGRsW5UVpugr3dUypDcRBpDGqWCH0xMBC0W5UdNBRPi0abAcwCYev7raamLeq6qKjEBUj/s320/062.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oliver, April 2010. Seeing him run just made my heart soar.</i></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrim55VUz5xt7BEI03ZwU5ZCwhkcbPpOzLt-Cl9HRa4WdRr8MUo0lKrwIkXVRg_GwvHQ59zvCu619dB9opNRdmZTQTdJdtNfFhf7XfIdkMqqJnyrjNrpjNq0Bx8_lnPFav1ByMKFj9Kazl/s1600/063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrim55VUz5xt7BEI03ZwU5ZCwhkcbPpOzLt-Cl9HRa4WdRr8MUo0lKrwIkXVRg_GwvHQ59zvCu619dB9opNRdmZTQTdJdtNfFhf7XfIdkMqqJnyrjNrpjNq0Bx8_lnPFav1ByMKFj9Kazl/s320/063.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>There is something extremely sweet about seeing this little boy running. He is truly our walking miracle.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
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I was a bit nervous before his last appointment with Dr. Cummiskey. It didn't seem possible that we were actually done. How could that be? It seemed like we were just coming in for his first casting.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjc3EyZfGKXgGsfoEEAfjsmrZK0RhOx7Rztz0PmI6I925myJ2oWVXJ4QGT1JSmYYPSv366Kvd5_bSe2hrUxkztSbiTpwfrYPA72HhB01Sjct8I0gs4PV5xvgExDGJlmRiylYSGbfsi52P9/s1600/037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjc3EyZfGKXgGsfoEEAfjsmrZK0RhOx7Rztz0PmI6I925myJ2oWVXJ4QGT1JSmYYPSv366Kvd5_bSe2hrUxkztSbiTpwfrYPA72HhB01Sjct8I0gs4PV5xvgExDGJlmRiylYSGbfsi52P9/s320/037.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"Really?! I'm done?! YAY!"</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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It was such a bittersweet appointment. I really didn't want to tell these two amazing people good-bye, and yet I was *thrilled* that we didn't have to come back and see them. At that appointment, Nurse Deb told us that a mother had come in with her infant son who also had clubfoot. She asked if we would mind going to see her and showing her what Oliver's feet looked like. That made the appointment even more special. We were able to encourage this new mother and tell her how great Oliver had done with treatment. I have never forgotten that mother or her sweet boy. They have stayed in my prayers and I have often wondered how they are doing. Amazingly enough, after we found out about baby Max's foot, I was able to reconnect with that mother. I had found a clubfoot support group on facebook and she replied to my post. I feel like that was really a God thing.<br />
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When I think of what lies ahead for us with baby Max, the braces part of his treatment is the most unknown. Of all the doctors I have spoken with, none of them follow the same protocol with bracing as Dr. Cummiskey did. In fact, none of them even use the same type of brace. They all use a type of "bar and boots" system, where the baby has "shoes" that are attached to a bar between the feet. I'll do another post about that. Honestly, as I research more, I am amazed that Oliver did not relapse since we stopped his braces so soon. Most doctors recommend clubfoot babies/children wear their braces for many years, sometimes up until age 4 or 5. It is almost unheard of to stop at age 1 because the relapse rate is so high. I am so, so thankful that Oliver did so well. It makes me very nervous and sad to think of what lies ahead for Max. This is the part where when people say, "Well, you've been through this before at least you know what to expect", I have to say, "Well, no. Not exactly." The unknown is always the scariest.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gtPpLEUrJKJPQO9QjeYX8zNoC4GvAQ9kyXWMtnLROlRg0X7NYdiWpyrvVuV_uk3qVDKk7SBRNyYaGAnE7-wzrxUPdmh9_0hn99889qX2gMA2rnjQYvhdc6f63hRuiWKzcjvpeQXGr9lE/s1600/044.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gtPpLEUrJKJPQO9QjeYX8zNoC4GvAQ9kyXWMtnLROlRg0X7NYdiWpyrvVuV_uk3qVDKk7SBRNyYaGAnE7-wzrxUPdmh9_0hn99889qX2gMA2rnjQYvhdc6f63hRuiWKzcjvpeQXGr9lE/s320/044.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nurse
Deb, Dr. Cummiskey, and Oliver. These two people will forever keep a
very special place in our hearts. They became like family to us. </i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
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<br />Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-38423438454380293562013-07-14T17:21:00.000-07:002013-07-14T19:27:04.858-07:00Tiny Baby in Leg CastsIt was definitely an adjustment seeing Oliver in casts. He was so tiny (he was only 6 lbs 14 oz when he was born) and his casts felt so big. When I was out with him, I would often get questions and stares from strangers. Thankfully no one ever said anything rude (I've heard from other clubfoot parents who have some horror stories). But its still felt so strange to have anyone say, "Oh, what a sweet baby. Oh gosh, why does he have casts on his legs?!" When I had the chance to actually explain to them what was going on, they were always surprised that the casts were not, in fact, a result of foot surgery but instead a series of castings that would hopefully correct his feet without surgery.<br />
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One part of Oliver's treatment that was unique and that we will not experience with Max is that each week I had to soak off his plaster casts at home. I have recently found out that this is not recommended, and the doctors I have spoken with do not have parents do this. It is because they want as small of a window of time in between casts as possible to prevent the feet from turning back in. I completely understand this, but I have to admit I'm a little sad. It was always so nice to have that one night a week with baby Oliver and his "free" feet and legs.<br />
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The first night I had to soak off his casts was a complete disaster. Jay was working nights, and Oliver was two weeks old. I really had no idea what I was doing...I had read some suggestions and the nurse had told me a few ideas but it was so awkward! I was paranoid because his umbilical cord "stump" was still on and I was trying not to get it wet. I thought doing it in the kitchen sink would be best. Um, no! Our sink was small and I couldn't get him in a comfortable position. I got out a bucket that fit well into our sink and put water in it, along with some vinegar because that was supposed to help soften the casts. (This was the only time I used vinegar. I didn't think it worked that well and it smell was just too strong for me!) So here I am, trying to hold a 2 week old infant in a bucket of water, up to the top of his thighs without getting his belly button wet. Ha! He screamed, I cried, and it took close to two hours!! We were both soaked by the end. I started unwrapping his casts at the top and worked my way down. By the time I got close to his feet I could just slip the bottom "foot" part off. I have never felt such relief as when I was able to get those casts off! I cried seeing his precious little feet again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYGVHr4FObdm5Gv-3Rl9xn3-XL-LpprlBkva_YFzPfo37NEzoSKx4KeVVrbs_e_IUTW5qFa3iC93z9jyOC7Ad9kvswSwHErWirTaz9JfybzNt9at-XQ9ONSsbouoUKk-iaWmn3lslMBS4n/s1600/IMG_0661.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYGVHr4FObdm5Gv-3Rl9xn3-XL-LpprlBkva_YFzPfo37NEzoSKx4KeVVrbs_e_IUTW5qFa3iC93z9jyOC7Ad9kvswSwHErWirTaz9JfybzNt9at-XQ9ONSsbouoUKk-iaWmn3lslMBS4n/s320/IMG_0661.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>After our
first night of soaking off his casts. AMAZING progress! I have recently
found out that most doctors do not recommend parents soak the casts off
the night before a new cast is put on because of the risk of losing
progress, so I am especially grateful that Oliver did so well. I really
looked forward to our one "free" night a week of loving on his little
legs and feet.</i></td></tr>
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That first night of no casts I spent so much time just looking at his feet and legs and touching them. The doctor had warned us that his feet might be especially sensitive, since they weren't used to any stimulation, but Oliver never really seemed to experience this. As soon as I got his casts off, I wrapped him in a towel and he curled right up on my chest. I sat with him in the recliner in his room for over an hour just loving my little boy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguY8o0XFLzzjjJ2cQ7CXiNWUmchNKZSOrmpgdEHNRqTxvH9N1SsFo-dp5DmJsNeKY9M3TKS6Iit3IVlZHNwnpelq-ewvRuLZAwh_nld7sxuxUaaV2prlI5-HPwXIYfM6qnFP0iLwT1eIb-/s1600/IMG_0668.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguY8o0XFLzzjjJ2cQ7CXiNWUmchNKZSOrmpgdEHNRqTxvH9N1SsFo-dp5DmJsNeKY9M3TKS6Iit3IVlZHNwnpelq-ewvRuLZAwh_nld7sxuxUaaV2prlI5-HPwXIYfM6qnFP0iLwT1eIb-/s320/IMG_0668.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>On our way to get his second casts put on. Funny, once they were on
it was hard to remember them ever being off. They quickly became part
of our new "normal."</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The second casting was emotional as well. I really, really dreaded that appointment again. His feet looked so different, and so good, that I hated that they were going to be covered up again. I just wanted to have a "normal" experience of a baby without casts. He felt so much smaller without his casts on and I started to feel like I was really missing out on so much of having a newborn. Just the little things really bothered me, like not being able to give him a normal bath and having to really watch what kind of clothes we bought for him to make sure they would fit over his casts.<br />
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He seemed to be in a lot of pain with the second castings also. The doctor did some stretches with him and he cried during those. That night went better than our first night, though, and each week seemed to get easier and easier. Well, as easy as it can get when your infant is in casts. Sometimes I hate saying its "easier". I don't want people to think it isn't as big of a deal as it really is. Its all relative.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7sPTQCSzMVVc2dWXLY3lzCHFdbcemualBCYoRKJNF7WkXq0T0cZ5u-YEUPodkcNxrv81rQBJyvQ3Slv-8d6vvF5XTl24dwziVywJH1pU_BdAYEXB3YenwsE3WuJEgwonKJXJ0QCMi-Zm/s1600/IMG_0669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7sPTQCSzMVVc2dWXLY3lzCHFdbcemualBCYoRKJNF7WkXq0T0cZ5u-YEUPodkcNxrv81rQBJyvQ3Slv-8d6vvF5XTl24dwziVywJH1pU_BdAYEXB3YenwsE3WuJEgwonKJXJ0QCMi-Zm/s320/IMG_0669.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>PJs that did not have feet, and snapped all the way down both legs, became a staple of Oliver's wardrobe. This was his second set of casts.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEharF_jcPm_sFGVsABHitqibl3SSHa7UgrRioFYl299GEBSny677Ms_a6pAQfuEyRp4l1mTOriHv1pLwFkrE3U5qRa8CoEyA8CWvZCOxUesKcDPCTG6D-U9C24O5DyqAf4mBtMv5DdG8CGL/s1600/IMG_0588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEharF_jcPm_sFGVsABHitqibl3SSHa7UgrRioFYl299GEBSny677Ms_a6pAQfuEyRp4l1mTOriHv1pLwFkrE3U5qRa8CoEyA8CWvZCOxUesKcDPCTG6D-U9C24O5DyqAf4mBtMv5DdG8CGL/s320/IMG_0588.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Grandpa holding a tiny Oliver.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib38QZNhHf5zmy01j5zuBlKA1nA5gs1zwQhi0FcH8BUhPbyAfoqeWJiES8nvhGbQ9K1YBLU5rdIWBJquyvOO8DW3DNnAcaVA4EVTMlP5s6stZ4jrhYtyEVBou5Jf75spsPBpEdW5If5L82/s1600/IMG_0718.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib38QZNhHf5zmy01j5zuBlKA1nA5gs1zwQhi0FcH8BUhPbyAfoqeWJiES8nvhGbQ9K1YBLU5rdIWBJquyvOO8DW3DNnAcaVA4EVTMlP5s6stZ4jrhYtyEVBou5Jf75spsPBpEdW5If5L82/s320/IMG_0718.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Adding a little bit of love to those plaster casts.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JVVFr0f55oQk6kSQO6gnAYkdlQbW4Gs5mGkqqjJbYWD4HdZOfr_0JxwATu6Bx02qFRnzSXxlP9yvD83T8wyZPyOa248_FUc-aIXz9Aei_mfh40IU0M4wcKLBGu0X_cUyo2fpUpSDz9Py/s1600/IMG_1161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JVVFr0f55oQk6kSQO6gnAYkdlQbW4Gs5mGkqqjJbYWD4HdZOfr_0JxwATu6Bx02qFRnzSXxlP9yvD83T8wyZPyOa248_FUc-aIXz9Aei_mfh40IU0M4wcKLBGu0X_cUyo2fpUpSDz9Py/s320/IMG_1161.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>For whatever reason, this set of casts did not go up as high on his legs as some of his earlier ones. Its kind of hard to tell at the angle of this photo but with each casting, his feet were set at a different degree according to the Ponseti method of treatment.</i></td></tr>
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One thing that did get easier each week was being able to soak off the casts. I just now remembered that Jay was home for one of the weeks of soaking them off, and he videotaped it. I haven't watched it since we filmed that, so I will have to try to get that out sometime and watch it. After that first time of attempting the kitchen sink, I said forget it and just got in the bathtub with him and did it that way. By this time I was pretty much healed from childbirth and didn't mind getting in the tub in a bathing suit to unwrap the plaster. I remember one week I was unwrapping his casts and I noticed blood on them. I immediately started checking everywhere to see where he could possibly be bleeding. I was freaking out that he was hurt somewhere. It took me a couple of minutes to notice the cut on my finger and realize it was MY blood! The plaster could occasionally be sharp as I unwrapped it and I cut my fingers a few times over the weeks. Of course being in the water made it look much worse than it really was. I actually grew to really enjoy those nights of getting his casts off. I always tried to stop unwrapping them once I got to his foot so I could slip that part off and keep it. I have a whole bag full of little Oliver foot casts and cast wrappings.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY4eE40JX_1IZ_XQJ5hEwgc1XCDF-beSgjqsrH073jsinwHcJWQfIpWeDpfqyy-bjuwGyZZ8Tfg3I5hXfzPE1ytkq3D0fZ4teuzSA1fz4Ct4mL6RgXSAhB5ujBrhps1Sa9HVWtdc-1Yc_6/s1600/IMG_0730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY4eE40JX_1IZ_XQJ5hEwgc1XCDF-beSgjqsrH073jsinwHcJWQfIpWeDpfqyy-bjuwGyZZ8Tfg3I5hXfzPE1ytkq3D0fZ4teuzSA1fz4Ct4mL6RgXSAhB5ujBrhps1Sa9HVWtdc-1Yc_6/s320/IMG_0730.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This was the second night I soaked his casts off. He had been in casts for two weeks at this point. It never ceased to amaze me the difference in his feet and how quickly it happened.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEpKEynBiMMorKl8y4HvfI8dReKBDJaKjaM8Ozz-Uu5QA9_Pk8bl9xrBEgRSJsvbxXKyG0vhM7SPlHJ0BHRBJhjhimRmooKG3t4rJR16VKZ0AstmCj8g-7RXjaE_UbeUyMxVgUcy-4oBxS/s1600/IMG_0745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEpKEynBiMMorKl8y4HvfI8dReKBDJaKjaM8Ozz-Uu5QA9_Pk8bl9xrBEgRSJsvbxXKyG0vhM7SPlHJ0BHRBJhjhimRmooKG3t4rJR16VKZ0AstmCj8g-7RXjaE_UbeUyMxVgUcy-4oBxS/s320/IMG_0745.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>On our way for more casts again. The better his feet looked the more I hated having to cover them in casts. They began to look so normal!</i></td></tr>
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Its hard to remember each casting appointment because they were just a way of life for awhile. I do remember one particularly great appointment for him. The nurse was so happy when she saw his feet before the doctor came in. No one usually said too much about his feet, just that they were looking good. This time you could tell Nurse Deb was really surprised and excited with how great they looked. When she came back in with Dr. Cummiskey it was like she couldn't wait for him to see them. He kept saying how great they looked, and it made my heart soar to know that all we were going through was worth it. During that casting, Oliver was crying, and I just kept whispering, "Its ok, baby, its ok" and Dr. Cummiskey said, "Oh Oliver, its beyond ok! Your feet are looking amazing! Seriously, we rarely see this much progress this fast. I am just in shock." At that appointment, we thought we might only need one more set of casts. I was SO excited. It turned out he needed two more sets, and even though it was disappointing at the time, I am now able to look back and really see how awesome his progress was.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzs5Jahly4xNQBWzYr5U_ggNY2ZlWHrtNOPXodSn5wvGhm3CusvKz-y2JDAbSV_sjyHR4DMu-JaPd8tE9Y-Rvs3M77TEgXLE-0FgkUNUSMzTq7zV0IPX4wYBf7Y6dMCOWLkrs-W6xmyE4R/s1600/IMG_0791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzs5Jahly4xNQBWzYr5U_ggNY2ZlWHrtNOPXodSn5wvGhm3CusvKz-y2JDAbSV_sjyHR4DMu-JaPd8tE9Y-Rvs3M77TEgXLE-0FgkUNUSMzTq7zV0IPX4wYBf7Y6dMCOWLkrs-W6xmyE4R/s320/IMG_0791.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>After three weeks of casts. I remember worrying that his feet were "over"corrected this time, but it was all just part of the process. The next morning Dr. Cummiskey was thrilled with how they looked.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78aJ7YebekKRJ7IgJcste3kaaRQP-6cVAMmb1iWbm45lSznnMev6TvCeR3YsSFgdoUH8M9ds1vlHDQKSCGPjQuo6sbnHbaMr_udOCbdDQ6ef0Y4JKrVA1kfpxte7M99C3rtI9AxPVaI9a/s1600/IMG_0814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78aJ7YebekKRJ7IgJcste3kaaRQP-6cVAMmb1iWbm45lSznnMev6TvCeR3YsSFgdoUH8M9ds1vlHDQKSCGPjQuo6sbnHbaMr_udOCbdDQ6ef0Y4JKrVA1kfpxte7M99C3rtI9AxPVaI9a/s320/IMG_0814.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I've always loved this picture of little Oliver. This was a very good appointment for him!</i></td></tr>
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October 30, 2008. Oliver was just over two months old, and we were thrilled at that day's appointment to learn that he didn't need any more casts. His last two sets of casts had stayed on for two weeks each. The doctor hadn't told us for sure when he would be done, and we had gone in prepared for another set. Dr. Cummiskey was so pleased that he decided Oliver was done with casts and would not need a tenotomy. That was the biggest relief. Most children (I have read as many as 80%, sometimes more) need this surgery once they are done with castings. We had prepared ourselves for the possibility of it. Basically they cut the baby's achilles tendon to release the foot, then cast it again while it heals. I was so, so relieved that Oliver didn't need it. Dr. Cummiskey commented again with how great Oliver's feet had responded to treatment. All I could say was, "God is good."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7RL03h91Wj9G0m5yPwXp1Azmq98H9Z0u4ARYessN4tqrxnzsEXlKBI52Hr96YfX61PtZX1SD6Fk0SRSjlY-OCkngaSRFpCQ4viVcss0MIJL1MB7LNzEry5oR_vILait5blqxHvSKPxzBY/s1600/IMG_1319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7RL03h91Wj9G0m5yPwXp1Azmq98H9Z0u4ARYessN4tqrxnzsEXlKBI52Hr96YfX61PtZX1SD6Fk0SRSjlY-OCkngaSRFpCQ4viVcss0MIJL1MB7LNzEry5oR_vILait5blqxHvSKPxzBY/s320/IMG_1319.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>October 29, 2008. I didn't realize it at the time, but I had just soaked off his last set of casts! We were expecting one more set and got exciting news the next morning.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhek8bHYap0hH9RlwIIg_hAp8M6wsUvAv8lkK_ZYkJQ9pLAg0yOj-rK8_iG-MVQpJ4WLIn4HpTDVs5ujKa9qxvJfuhoysQJp7MvNIHPHMfhPVL9b18VGRv_GXKm8obKJTsKRi_4mlcEELVI/s1600/IMG_1378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhek8bHYap0hH9RlwIIg_hAp8M6wsUvAv8lkK_ZYkJQ9pLAg0yOj-rK8_iG-MVQpJ4WLIn4HpTDVs5ujKa9qxvJfuhoysQJp7MvNIHPHMfhPVL9b18VGRv_GXKm8obKJTsKRi_4mlcEELVI/s320/IMG_1378.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Such an exciting day! Oliver was *DONE* with casts earlier than expected!! It was the day before Halloween, so I celebrated by putting some adorable pumpkin socks on him.</i></td></tr>
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Oliver had several days in between casts and braces. Again, this is not something we will experience with Max as the doctors I have spoken to want as little time between casts and the brace. Also, the brace that Oliver went into (KAFO...knee, ankle, foot, orthodics) is a brace that I have not seen used again. Of all the clubfoot parents I have talked to and the doctors I have spoken with lately, they all use a bar and boots system. I'll talk more about Oliver's braces in another post.<br />
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It was hard to believe we were done with casts. It seemed like we had just started, and we were so used to going to these appointments. I was so proud of our little boy, and so so relieved to be done with this part of his treatment.<br />
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One incredible thing was how quickly Oliver met milestones even with his casts on. We were at his one month well check-up, and the doctor put him on his belly to see how he did. The doctor told us that he might experience some delays because of the casts, and to not be concerned if it took him a bit longer to do things like roll over. Right after he said this, Oliver rolled from his belly to his back! We had to laugh, and at first thought it might have just been an "accident." But no. Oliver proved us all wrong, and at just one month old was rolling over like crazy. Especially for first time moms, it can become an obsession if your baby isn't meeting milestones right on time. I was so glad to have one less thing to be worried about at that time.Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-43408547460617006972013-07-09T19:19:00.000-07:002013-07-09T19:20:49.067-07:00Oliver's First CastingOliver was born on Tuesday, August 26, 2008 at 5:17 pm. His birth was quite an experience in itself, as I was induced almost 3 weeks before my due date for PIH (pregnancy induced hypertension). I have never felt so in love as when Dr. Davis laid that precious little baby boy on my chest.<br />
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I remember that the nurses asked us shortly after he was born if we knew about his feet. We told them we did, and I remember my heart breaking just a little bit that God had not miraculously straightened his feet already. I wasn't so much upset as I was more just resigning to the fact that we would indeed be going through all the treatments we had learned about. I remember silently asking God, "Why didn't you answer my prayers?" and in that moment was one of the only times I have <i>very</i> clearly felt God answer my question so immediately. It was like in my mind I heard, "Be still, new mother. I have answered them, just not as you have expected." I'll never forget that. I looked around, almost expecting that someone else had heard it as well. God spoke directly to my heart in that moment and gave me a peace about the upcoming months.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy2Z5zuyBc0VZhbKFjkwEzMXhzJlF8FhHZvFsnKBJGYQI6Zk0PR-5xZUS2Q5u20SbxyDsuVYd5ypBjupOwZdxdHVFehUc1DYOABIXbgmpJISPjQUtJEi-CG0kMLk7dMYJtyhNTjvSk3PcZ/s1600/314_586680999618_5930_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy2Z5zuyBc0VZhbKFjkwEzMXhzJlF8FhHZvFsnKBJGYQI6Zk0PR-5xZUS2Q5u20SbxyDsuVYd5ypBjupOwZdxdHVFehUc1DYOABIXbgmpJISPjQUtJEi-CG0kMLk7dMYJtyhNTjvSk3PcZ/s320/314_586680999618_5930_n.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oliver in the hospital bassinet. My perfect, precious baby.</i></td></tr>
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Our first week with Oliver was wonderful. I spent a lot of time just staring at his feet, thinking about how perfect they looked to me despite knowing that, actually, they weren't. They would need to be changed, to be fixed. That's hard for a new mother to go through. Everyone feels like their baby is just perfect, and to know that they have to be fixed is heart breaking. I remember telling Jay that a part of me (the emotional, illogical, newly postpartum mama part) didn't want Oliver to go through the castings because I didn't want him changed. He was my perfect, precious little baby and I didn't want them changing anything about him. But I knew that for him to have the best quality of life, this is what needed to be done. Without treatments, he would never really be able to walk. That's such a horrible realization.<br />
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Oliver was 8 days old when he had his first casts put on. Jay was working second shift then, and had just gone back to work after being off for a week with us. The night before Oliver's first casting was extremely hard. I remember holding him and just sobbing because I was so scared of what the next day would bring. During our prenatal appt with Dr. Cummiskey, our orthopedic doctor, he had told us as much as he could about what to expect, but there's really no way to prepare yourself for your newborn to be put in full leg casts. I wondered how I would possibly give him a bath. How I would hold him on my chest when he couldn't curl up on me any more the way babies like to sleep. I put him in several different footy PJ sleepers that evening just because I didn't know if he'd ever really be able to wear them again. I prayed over my baby boy that he wouldn't be in too much pain. I felt so sick to my stomach the whole evening, and didn't sleep much that night. Before bed I sent this email to a friend...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"<i>Oliver's appt is at 11 Wednesday morning with the foot specialist..</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<wbr></wbr><i>.The
doctor is able to do the procedure there in his office. I'm just so
nervous and upset about it. I can't believe my little baby has to have
casts on his legs. I know it'll be ok, and don't get me wrong I'm
thankful that this is the worst we have to deal with. But its still
hard, and breaks my heart. I've been laying here on the floor with him
and just want to cry as he kicks his legs because I know tomorrow he
won't be able to do that, and he won't understand why. I've been
cuddling him all night and just feeling his little legs and feet. Ugh,
this is killing me."</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimCE06Q8EcL6Mx_MZLNjCs-VSfVwJutc9zmpJy31H5oPS6Dz3Bbg4uXsteJb1Yt3zmXRirBEeaeU6wUefnSw_6niNg4xHH_FreEz96Z38o9O8ln1CXEycJvVzLsdzKgH3a70Mdj5JuN5v7/s320/IMG_0552.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oliver the night before his first casting.</i></td></tr>
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<i> </i><i> </i><br />
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I'm so thankful that I took lots of pictures of Oliver's feet before and after each casting. Especially the first one. Its hard to believe what his little feet looked like then, and how quickly they changed. He was so tiny, and those casts looked so big.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>On our way to his first appointment. His orthopedic doctor was only about 30 minutes away.</i><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The first casting appointment was by far the hardest. We sat in the waiting room, and I held Oliver, dreading our name being called. I wanted it over with, and I didn't want it to begin, all at the same time.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I remember purposely holding him on my chest like this, as I knew I wouldn't be able to very easily after his casts were on.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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The first casting was by far the worst. Its hard to even think about. Dr. Cummiskey came in and said that Oliver's feet were very typical looking for bilateral clubfoot. Oliver laid on the doctor's table with Dr. Cummiskey on his stool in front of him. I stood to his side, leaning over Oliver and talking to him. Jay stood behind me, and rubbed my back. The doctor later told us he would never forget the way our family interacted during these appointments...Jay supporting me, me supporting Oliver. When Dr. Cummiskey took Oliver's foot and turned it before setting that first cast...oh my gosh. I thought I was going to vomit and pass out all at the same time. It was horrific. I couldn't believe a doctor could turn a baby's foot like that without breaking it. Oliver's screams from that pain haunted me. The way he grabbed at me, like he was begging me to rescue him from the pain...it wasn't long before I couldn't tell anymore if it was his tears or mine on his face. It seemed to take forever but it wasn't long before they were ready for the second foot. I just kept telling Oliver over and over that it is ok, Mommy is here, it'll be over soon, that I love him. I would remind him to take a breath, because he was just red and silent crying after awhile, as if he could possibly understand what I was saying.<br />
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It was finally over and my little boy's legs were completely covered in plaster. The nurse picked him up and kissed him and handed him to me, saying to take our time and cuddle him before putting him back in his carseat. I felt like my heart was in a million pieces. Nurse Deb told us the proper dosage for Tylenol that we could give him (which, for an 8 day old, is next to nothing) to help ease the pain. She even told us that most infants have not yet developed the ability to cry tears, but that Oliver was in a lot of pain and to expect a possibly rough night. When people tell me that at least Oliver's treatment was done as a newborn and he won't ever remember it, I wish they could possibly understand what we went through that first casting appointment. He may never remember, but I absolutely will never forget. His pain was very real, and very difficult to experience. For everyone.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>If I remember correctly, these first casts weighed about half a pound total. Seems like such a small amount, but he felt so much heavier with these on.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
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Our first night was tough. We spent most of the time in bed cuddling. I cried, a lot. It seemed so unfair that our baby was going through this. I just wanted to cuddle him and it was so awkward. He would wake up screaming and I felt so helpless. I sent this message to some friends later that night:<br />
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<i>"They [the casts] cover most of his feet and legs. He feels so heavy now. He sleeps
for a bit and then wakes up crying inconsolably. Nothing I do can help
he is in pain and doesn't know why. We were able to give him a little
bit of baby tylenol so i'm hoping that kicks in soon. He cried his
first real tears today when he was crying at the dr. Broke my heart.
Jay could barely stand to leave for work. Its going to be a long night."</i></div>
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Until that night, Oliver had slept some in a bassinet by our bed, and we had spent many nights in the recliner holding him. We hadn't really settled on the idea of bedsharing just yet, but neither Jay or I wanted him in his crib in his room. That night when Jay got home from work, I was laying in bed with him and just said, "Please...is it ok if he sleeps here with us tonight? He's in so much pain." Of course Jay didn't mind, and for the next 2.5 years Oliver slept with us. :) We couldn't stand the thought of him waking up in pain by himself. We used to get a lot of grief from people about bedsharing and I would just say, "You don't understand what we've been through. He needs to be close to us." <br />
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When I think of baby Max (due this September) and his clubfoot, it is the first casting that makes me the most upset. Thinking of the pain Oliver went through is enough to bring me to tears in an instant, and it's devastating to know that we will go through this again with another child. I know it gets better and the end result is so worth it. But I'm basically being asked to relive the worst day of my life. I'm still searching for some peace with the whole thing. I'm getting there, and God is carrying me when I don't feel like I can carry myself. </div>
Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-20881815297958332552013-07-05T21:11:00.000-07:002013-07-05T21:13:41.851-07:00The First Time We Found OutSome days are watershed moments in our life. We often don't realize how pivotal they are until much later when we look back and say, "Then. It was in <i>that moment</i> that things changed."<br />
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April 11, 2008. I was 17 weeks 5 days pregnant with our first and scheduled to have our "big" ultrasound done. All I could think about was finding out if we were expecting a boy or a girl. At the time our niece, Alexis, was almost a year old and so my mind was leaning towards girl. I had it in my head for sure that we would have a little girl, and I could barely sleep the night before our ultrasound due to the excitement of finding out. My mom and Jay were both with me for the appointment.<br />
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The ultrasound tech did all of the measurements and our baby looked healthy. And then at one point, she stopped and excused herself, saying she would be right back. At the time, I didn't think much of it to be honest. This was, after all, my first pregnancy and I never thought we would find out anything was wrong with our unborn child. The ultrasound tech came back in with a doctor, who introduced himself as Dr. Wheeler. He said he was their perinatologist (high risk OB). I found it odd that he would be coming in to look at my ultrasound but I still had no idea why exactly he was there.<br />
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I watched as the tech pointed to the screen, mumbled a few things, and Dr. Wheeler nodded and "mmm-hmm"ed along with her. Finally he turned to me and said, "Well, Lyndsey, it looks like your baby might have clubfeet."<br />
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Thud. What? Um, ok. I looked at Jay and my mom, shocked, but not really comprehending what that meant. I knew that Jay had been born with clubfoot, but had absolutely not expected that we would ever deal with it.<br />
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"Uh, ok. Well, my husband was born with it also," I said.<br />
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"Ahh, ok. Yeah, well that makes sense then. Madeline, our tech here, is really good at catching these things, so when she saw it that's why she came and got me to take a look. I'd agree with her. We'll have another look in a month or so and see if they still look that way, but see here" ...he pointed to the baby's legs, and then to the foot bones..."see how the baby's legs go straight, and then the feet curve directly inward? On a normal baby, the feet would go directly outwards. That's what we're looking at here."<br />
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I could see what he was talking about, but I still really had no concept of what was going on. All I knew was that something was wrong with our baby. I remembered that Jay had had surgery on his foot as a baby, so I figured we were looking at a surgery and casts. That was as far as my thought process really went.<br />
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And then Dr. Wheeler said something I will never forget. It was something that really helped me get through the rest of my pregnancy and any time that I started feeling down about our situation. He said, "You know, Lyns, this isn't that bad. I know it's hard. I know you don't want to hear this news. But I just had to tell a mom that her baby is going to be born with spina bifida. Your baby is going to be ok."<br />
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I choked back tears, pretty unsuccessfully, and thanked him. I was so very thankful that this was the worst we were dealing with. Oddly enough, when we would hear similar news 5 years later about our second son, the news that "this is the worst it is" didn't give me the same comfort. Its interesting how time and experiences can change our perception of things.<br />
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And so were we expecting a boy or a girl?!? Our baby was stubborn. At first the tech said she wasn't able to tell, and that made me almost as upset as the clubfoot news! That seems so silly now, but I remember being so upset about that. The tech said that the umbilical cord was laying right between the baby's legs. She did say that she couldn't see any boy parts, though, so even though she wasn't for sure, she would have to say girl. <i>I knew it!!! ;) </i> I just knew we were having a girl!! ;)<br />
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*******************************************************************************<br />
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Four weeks later (May 14, 2008) I had another ultrasound. I had prayed and others had prayed that the baby's feet would look fine. I was actually really looking forward to the ultrasound. I was expecting to get confirmation that we were, in fact, having a little girl. I had even gone out and bought many girl outfits, shoes, etc I think in part to distract me from thinking about the baby's feet.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yep, I was pretty positive we were having a girl.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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One of the first things the ultrasound tech asked was if we knew what we were having. I said, "Well, not for sure. They thought a girl last time, but they couldn't really tell." The tech immediately said, "Oh we can see this time. It's a boy!" I was shocked!!! I remember exclaiming, "Oh no way!!!" I was in no way disappointed, just truly surprised. I was just so excited to finally know, and looking at the screen I was so head over heels in love with our little boy. The ultrasound confirmed that the feet did in fact look like bilateral clubfoot (meaning clubfoot in both feet). Dr. Davis, my OB, agreed that it looked that way as well. Its funny how to someone who deals with stuff like this everyday, it wasn't a big deal to them. Its not like that day changed the lives of that ultrasound tech or my doctor. At my appointment with Dr. Davis after the ultrasound, he simply gave me the name of the specialist that they recommended we go and see and said they would call over and let him know we would be calling for a prenatal consultation. At our first ultrasound, Dr. Wheeler, the high risk OB, had said that this orthopedic doctor was very, very good. It was all so...formal. Distant. Very medical. We talked for maybe 5 minutes about the whole thing and that was it. The focus was really on the fact that overall the baby was healthy, I was healthy, and the clubfoot would be dealt with after the baby was born.<br />
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<br />
I felt very comfortable telling people about what was going on. I often cried when I told them, but not always. In fact, the first few times I talked about it, I really didn't know what to say because I had no idea what to expect. I had never heard about the Ponseti method. I had no idea that our baby would not have to have surgery but instead a series of castings and then braces. Its somewhat easy to talk about when you don't know any details. I remember telling a friend of mine that we weren't able to tell the sex of the baby but that we would be having another ultrasound the next month. She said, "Oh man, I didn't get to have any extra ultrasounds. I wish I could have gotten to see my baby again." And I just said, "Well, they think the baby might have clubfeet, so they have to check that again." I had no concept of what we were going to experience. I wouldn't say it was easy. It was very hard. My heart broke that something was wrong with our child. But I took it in stride. It took no joy away from my pregnancy, and I didn't obsess over it. I felt comfortable that we would deal with it just fine. This was our first baby; we had nothing to compare it too. The only time I remember not wanting to talk about it was when I thought people would feel sorry for us. I didn't want sympathy, and it felt awkward when they said they felt badly for us. I didn't feel badly at all. It was a blissful ignorance.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>3D ultrasound that proved we were actually having a baby boy!!</i></td></tr>
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Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4246923220935063402.post-56166298683706084022013-07-03T20:51:00.001-07:002013-07-04T13:57:06.502-07:00Welcome to Our Story<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Hello, and welcome! Whether you've found my blog because you personally know our family, or perhaps you've stumbled across it while looking for information on the internet about clubfoot, I'm glad you are here. I look forward to sharing our story with you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My name is Lyndsey and I am a wife and mother to two (soon to be three) children. Oliver was born in August 2008 with bilateral clubfoot. Our daughter Lucy was born in October 2011 and had perfectly straight feet. We found out May 31, 2013 that in September 2013 we would be welcoming another precious baby boy to our family, and he is expected to have a right clubfoot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">While it may seem to most that since we have been through this once that we know what to expect, it feels differently to us. We had an amazing orthopedic doctor treat Oliver's feet, and Oliver responded very, very well to treatment. He is truly our walking miracle. I had always thought that if we ever had to go through this again that it would be easier since we knew his doctor. However, along with the news of our second boy having clubfoot, we also found out that our orthopedic doctor recently had to stop practicing due to cancer. It was all so heartbreaking and so much to process all at once.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Through it all, we know that God remains faithful. He is the Great Physician and as He heals our baby's foot, He will heal my heart. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I look forward to sharing more of Oliver's story and healing as well as our journey in finding a different doctor and how things go for our baby boy once he is born this fall. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our sweet Oliver's footprints when he was a week old.</i></td></tr>
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<br />Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01489343883680140792noreply@blogger.com4