hands

These pictures are from when Emi was just a couple days old. J-P wanted me to take a picture of Emi next to his hands to show how small she was. I included a couple with my hands too, because J-P has really big hands:)

one week old

 

 

Emi is growing like a weed. We packed up the newborn clothes and have been marveling over her cheeks and double chin. We are definitely trying to enjoy every second of this tiny stage...

Birth Story

This time around I desperately wanted to go into labor on my own. I had never experienced non-induced childbirth, and I felt like it was a rite of passage. Something I wanted to experience before I die. I tried everything I could leading up to my due date, including my first-ever trips to the chiropractor and acupuncture. I had my membranes stripped three times, did lots of walking, and ate dates. I had contractions here and there, and was dilated to a 3 1/2 on the day before my due date. I gave up hope of going into labor on my own, and scheduled an induction for a few days after my due date.

On my due date, we picked up my mom from the airport and went to dinner. I had a few really painful contractions during dinner, but I always get them. I didn't even think twice about it. I planned a fun day of shopping, dining, and getting last minute things done for the next day. I didn't even pack my hospital bag. I just went to bed to rest up for the impending sleepless nights. Then I woke up at midnight in excruciating pain. The contractions started coming hard and fast (for the first time in my life), and I knew I was finally in real labor. Without pitocin. It was a small miracle.

After about 20 minutes we headed to the hospital. When I got there I was dilated to about a 6-7. I was in quite a bit of pain (what I didn't know at the time was back labor), and hadn't slept in about two days. I lasted until I was at an 8 before the emotional/physical exhaustion took over and the nurse talked me into an epidural. It turned out to be the best decision ever, as we still had a VERY long night ahead of us.

About an hour after I got to the hospital I was at a 10. The epidural didn't work right away (only on my left side), and I was still in pain and exhausted. When the doctor came in and wanted me to push, I told her that I was too exhausted, and that I didn't feel the urge at all. They let me rest for 10-15 minutes, and then we started to push. And push. And push. After about an hour and a half, she looked at me and said "fourth babies don't take an hour and a half to push out, something is wrong". Ian and Ava both came out after about 15-20 minutes, so I knew she had a point. We talked about options, and I told her that I wanted to avoid a C-section unless it was absolutely necessary. The baby was not in distress, so she let me keep trying to push her out. I pushed for about an hour on all fours, a long time on one side with a leg twisted in the air, then on the other side. Then I pushed again on my back. After a long four (yes four!) hours, my doctor said that not a single one of my pushes had moved the baby's head at all. I started to panic when she told me the only options left were forceps, vacuum, or C-section. I couldn't even think straight to make a decision.

By this time it was morning, and my doctor called another doctor to get a second opinion. The other doctor came to the hospital, as she was more experienced at using forceps. When she got there, she said the baby's head was small enough that she could probably vacuum her out. They brought in the pediatric trauma unit (which raised my anxiety level even more), and told me I had one last chance to push her out with the vacuum before they wheeled me into the OR for a C-section. They turned on the vacuum and in less than one second she was crying and being whisked across the room to be examined. The doctor smiled and said "posterior and asynclitic!" as I sobbed tears of relief and complete emotional and physical exhaustion. Apparently her head was face-up and tilted sideways.

This has been one of my hardest recoveries. No permanent damage, but lots of bruising (tailbone), swelling, and sore muscles. Muscles that I didn't even know I had. I couldn't even hold the baby for a couple days because my arms were so sore from gripping the handles for hours while I was pushing. Things are finally looking up and I am feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for a sweet, beautiful little baby that has melted all of our hearts. She was worth every second.

Emi Susana

arrived 9.26.12

6 lbs. 6 oz. 20 1/2 inches

 

 

40 weeks

I am just about 40 weeks pregnant with baby #4. Every day that passes brings me closer to the sad reality that I will probably never get to experience uninduced labor. I was really hoping to go natural this time around and just "let things happen". But fears of the baby getting too big and experiencing a horrendous months-long recovery (like the first go-around) quickly curb my craving for a natural birth experience.

These pictures reflect life here at chez scoville lately. Me wearing the same bun for 3 days in a row. I haven't touched my hair in at least that long. Mostly because I haven't slept in days. I managed to put on some mascara to go hear Elder Holland speak to our stake today. Which you can see streaked across my face after crying through his entire talk. It was fantastic. Ava constantly by my side, jabbering on about random things. Or trying to convince me to name the baby Sally. She is going to be very disappointed on that front. Speaking of names, this is the closest we have ever been to delivery without having a name decided.

This pregnancy has actually been very pleasant (post-morning sickness). I have felt great. My veins (thanks to some fantastic tricks) have been so much better this time, and I didn't have to put on my compression nylons once. The discomfort is finally starting to set in, which makes me all the more anxious to meet this little girl. If we could only decide on a name...

cousins!

Anna, Braden, and Kyler came to visit us this month. I'm not sure what Max was more excited for, his birthday or finally getting to see his cousin Braden after a long year away from him. We went hiking, swimming, to the wildlife museum, for walks and scooter rides, and the boys played their hearts out for a few days. They all loved their new cousin "baby Kyler" and Ava talks about him regularly now. Thanks for coming to visit us, it was so much fun!

six

 

Max turned six and and we celebrated lego-style with his first friends (without parents) birthday party. I'm pretty sure it might have been the happiest day of his six years on this earth. He counted down the days, minutes, and hours and woke up at the crack of dawn on his special day. I think I could actually plan a decent party if I started planning more than one day in advance, but that's just how we roll at chez scoville. We invited his 5 best friends, and the party went off without a hitch. We did lego dot-to-dots, a lego toss, lego relay, lego straw game, guess how many legos in the jar, and a lego pinata (which his daddy kindly made at the last minute the night before, even if he did put the circles on both sides of the "lego"). I still can't believe I have a six-year-old. Happy Birthday Max!

Mother's Day

Here is the first shot from the pregnancy, taken today at almost 21 weeks. I have failed big time at documenting this pregnancy, which makes me sad because I'm pretty sure it will be my last. We were thrilled to find out that Ava will be getting a sister. I had a hunch (I get SO much sicker with girls), but thought having another girl would be too good to be true. I don't know how we got so lucky to get two of each. I couldn't have planned it more perfectly.

This sweet little thing has sucked everything out of me. I decided not to take zofran this time around, just in case it contributed to Ava's fussiness/reflux. Aside from severe dehydration and some weight loss, we both survived. I remember sobbing to J-P many nights, telling him to take care of the kids and tell them I loved them because I was sure that I would die at any moment. I sobbed when I saw the scale drop below 100 lbs, and I sobbed when my ribs became visible. On the days that I thought survival was a possibility, I sobbed because I was sure the baby would come out bright red or deformed because of all the Sonic slushies I had to sip to stay hydrated, or from not being able to take prenatal vitamins. I became quite skilled at throwing up while driving, and remember one particular day where I threw up the entire way to Ian's preschool. It's a small miracle I never crashed. Luckily I am feeling much better, and am almost back up to my pre-pregnancy weight.



I am feeling especially blessed this mother's day. My kids are happy, healthy, and bring so much joy to my life. Max hid the mother's day presents he made for me at school, and has been taking everyone up to his room to show them when I'm not looking.  I thought he would explode out of his skin with excitement when he gave them to me today. It melted my heart to read the things he wrote and see the pictures he drew. I wish I could make these days of being home with little ones last forever.

Almost 2 1/2...

 

Ava loves having her picture taken. Even if she can't stay still enough to take a not-blurry shot. Anytime she does something that she thinks is pretty cool, she says "hey mom, will you take my picture?" Most of the time (especially in the last couple of months), I just pretend to take one with my phone while she poses away. Yesterday I actually grabbed the camera because she was still in church clothes, and her face was mostly clean.

Ava loves to talk (she and Ian both got the talking genes). I always know when she is awake because I can hear her blabbering away to a half-asleep Max (no more than three inches from his face) about whatever happens to be on her mind when she wakes up. And she loves to make up stories. She always requests bedtime stories, but always takes over and prompts the entire thing. They are usually about her, riding to the magic pink forest on her magic pink horse with her friends Lena and Sydney. When they get to to the forest they eat lots of candy and pick lots of strawberries. Then they make a pie with the strawberries, eat it, and ride home on their magic pink horses. She also loves to sing songs and has several memorized. She thinks the part about Yankee Doodle sticking a feather in his hat and calling it "macaroni" is the funniest thing ever and can't ever finish the song because she is laughing so hard. She also likes to change lyrics to songs. I often hear random things like "Twinkle, twinkle, little star...how I wonder what you ate for breakfast!!!" And she always starts laughing uncontrollably at her clever twist.

The other day she fell asleep in the car and took a late afternoon nap (we quit naps at two, otherwise she can't fall asleep before 10 p.m.). I knew it was going to be a long night, so after I put the boys to bed, we came downstairs, cut up a bunch of mangoes, and turned on my favorite Zee Avi pandora station. As we were eating mangoes at the kitchen table in our pajamas, she looked at me and said "Mom, this is a nice day. I love you mom. Jesus said love everyone. I'm Ava, and you're the mom. We are both people. And we are superheroes. We can disappear everyone with our magic powers...like this! (Proceeds to lift both fists in the air and make zapping, explosion-type noises)."

In a surprise turn of events last week, she jumped up after I took off her soggy diaper, ran to the bathroom, pulled her little toilet out from the cupboard under the sink, and produced a nice bowel movement. I haven't even thought about potty training, partly because I have been so sick, and partly because potty training Max traumatized me for life. I told myself I would never torture myself by starting the process before 2 1/2. Despite the fact that Ava has been begging to take off her diaper and wear her Dora underwear for months. She is apparently more ready than I am, and I am hoping this last bit of nausea will go away (shouldn't it be gone by 17 wks?) so that we can be a diaper-free household for at least a few months before the baby comes.

the accident

Ian gets his cast off tomorrow. I realized today that I took nary a photo, and didn't document the experience at all. Probably because I've been focusing on staying alive and keeping food down instead. Everything seems to fall apart around here when I have morning sickness.

Anyway, one particularly dreadful day last month (when J-P was out of town), the kids broke a glass jar full of epsom salt in the bathroom. I quickly swept it up and put it in the little bathroom garbage can. I put it in the (jack and jill) bathroom that separates the children's two bedrooms and shut the door. I put Max and Ian into bed, and then proceeded to put Ava to bed. While rocking her, I could hear Ian giggling and saying "Max, do you dare me to pee in the garbage?" I immediately threw Ava into her crib and ran into their room. He had gone into the bathroom, grabbed the glass-filled garbage can, and brought it into his room. I got there right before he started to pee. He knew he was in trouble, and in the process of pulling his pants up and getting back into bed, he tripped and his hand landed in the garbage can. It was dark and I didn't notice what had happened. I yelled at him to climb into bed. He was crying in bed, and I impatiently told him to stop crying so he wouldn't wake his siblings. He wouldn't stop so I climbed up (top bunk) to talk to him and that's when I saw the blood. Everywhere. I immediately started dry heaving and panicking. I was so sick and so tired I could barely stand up, much less deal with a crisis.

I knew I had to stop the bleeding, so I managed to do that. Then I looked at his finger to assess the damage of the cut, and it was bad. Like you could see the bone bad. That's when I lost it. I suppose the pregnancy hormones took over. I didn't know what to do so I called my mom. I was crying so hard that I couldn't talk for the first minute or so. I never call my mom crying, so I'm pretty sure she thought someone had died. I gained my composure and said "Mom, Ian cut his finger. I think I can see his bone, but I stopped the bleeding. Can I just put a band-aid on it and take him to the doctor in the morning?" Obviously she told me I needed to take him in, and I cried about how I was too sick and too tired...not to mention that I had no clue what to do with my other sleeping babes. "You call your neighbor, or your visiting teacher. If they can't help you call a babysitter." After a few calls I found a babysitter that could drive herself over so I didn't have to wake the other two. I whisked Ian (covered in blood--didn't have the strength to clean him off or change his PJ's) to urgent care.

I'm still not sure how I survived that night. After they prepped him they had to wait like 15 minutes to sew him up while I ran to the bathroom to empty the rest of the contents of my stomach. When I got back, the doc said "Come here mom, I want to show you where the tendon has been transacted before I sew him up..." Upon seeing it I literally blacked out and collapsed into a chair. The nurses scrambled to get me water and make sure that I would stay conscious, rather than paying attention to poor Ian.

Someone was definitely watching out for him that night. He did great. Content the whole time and didn't shed a single tear with any of the shots or papoosing. Such a tough kid. I still don't know how I made it through the subsequent visits to the hand surgeon in Denver, or the full day I had to spend in the hospital when he had his surgery. Here's to hoping his finger will still work when he gets the cast off tomorrow!