St. Louis Here We Are

When 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

We just arrived in St. Louis tonight (Sunday, July 20). Tomorrow at 2:45 (3:45 at home) is Oliver's appt.

My heart is so heavy thinking about it all. I just can't process it. Prayers for our sweet Oliver are appreciated.

Trying to Catch a Breath

Hello all,

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:

January 6, 2014. 

Our sweet boy spent 2 nights in the hospital in January.  He won all the hearts of all his nurses with his sweet smile!

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.

March 13, 2014. 

Our beloved Poppa.  We can't wait to see you again in heaven.

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.

April 7, 2014.

Max right before his tongue and lip tie revision.  Dr. Notestine was amazing!

 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.



May 2014.  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.

Max's reaction to his antibiotic was so awful to see. Thankfully it didn't seem to bother him at all!

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.

Oliver's graduation from preschool.  The interaction between Oliver and Max is so sweet!

June 2014.  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.

In the final phases of building.  We love it here!

July 2014.

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.

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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!

A Necessary Break

October 28.

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.

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:

See that dark spot of skin right above his foot?

 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.

Third cast off.  4 weeks old.

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.

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."

Max was still crying.  Did I hear him correctly?  Wait, why is the PA putting all the casting supplies away?  What's going on?  Why is my baby still crying and I can't figure out why he isn't being casted?!?!

Sweet foot!

 
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.

All I could think was, he can't be out of a cast.  He just can't.  What about all the progress we will lose?!  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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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 wrong.  It felt like this long, drawn out pause 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.

Some Halloween fun.

Its tiring being such a cute little pumpkin!

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.

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.

Just 24 hours out of his cast and the spot was drying up nicely.

 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.







 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Max's Early Castings

The 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.

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.

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.

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.

Ready to have his first cast taken off.  No worries from this little guy!

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.

Enjoying some sweet, cast free baby snuggles!

Not easy to see, but just above his ankle is a red mark.  That's where the cast tech "knicked" him.

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.

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.

Sweet baby boy. Second cast on.

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.

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.
 

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!

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.

Max's foot after two weeks of casting.

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.

Three weeks old and third cast is on.

Unfortunately, we didn't stay in that place for long.  Max's fourth cast change came, and brought some unexpected news.  Stay tuned. :-)

Max's First Cast

The 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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 just love this shot.  Holding those precious feet in my hands.

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...

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. 

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.

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.

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.

We are BLESSED by an incredible church family.

Praying over that little foot. 

 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.

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.

Getting ready to do his footprint.  This little baby slept all the time!

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

It's finished.

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.

Max adjusted well to the cast.  He was unsettled that first night but didn't seem to have nearly the pain that I expected.

My handsome little guy in his tiny cast.

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.

Getting him in his car seat was enough to make me cry.  It was so hard to do.

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.

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.

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.

Introducing 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. 

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.

So finally...Max's birth story!



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.

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.

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 "hmm, maybe another boy?"  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, "Well, maybe its actually a girl!" since I was also so sick when I was carrying Lucy.

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."

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.

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.

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. 

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 was ready.

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.

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. 

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.

The next thing I knew, I woke up and it was 7 am.  Two hours had passed, and my contractions had gone away.  "Damn it!" 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.

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. 

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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. 

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!

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.

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. 

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!"

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.  "Cool," I thought, "I got to experience my water breaking. But really, that was quite uneventful."  I expected a gush or something, but it was not very dramatic at all.

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. 

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 WAS pushing.  It was all just my body taking over and doing what it needed to do to get Max out. 

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). 

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.

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?!? :)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.



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.

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.

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 "hmm, maybe another boy?"  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, "Well, maybe its actually a girl!" since I was also so sick when I was carrying Lucy.

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."

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.

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.

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. 

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 was ready.

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.

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. 

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.

The next thing I knew, I woke up and it was 7 am.  Two hours had passed, and my contractions had gone away.  "Damn it!" 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.

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. 

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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. 

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!

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.

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. 

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!"

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.  "Cool," I thought, "I got to experience my water breaking. But really, that was quite uneventful."  I expected a gush or something, but it was not very dramatic at all.

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. 

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 WAS pushing.  It was all just my body taking over and doing what it needed to do to get Max out. 

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). 

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.

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?!? :)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.