What's in a name?

I have had several people ask me how to pronounce Elodie's name. It is literally pronounced L-O-D or like Melody without the "M." I have also had several people ask me where we got the name. The name Tess has long been on my list of girl names. It got passed over for Britta, so I resurrected it again during this pregnancy. However, I have struggled to find a good middle name for Tess (without making the name Tessa) so one day Chris was Googling middle names for Tess and came across the name Tess Elodie. Then we both were like "hmm...actually Elodie itself is pretty." So basically, Google named our child. Mae was Chris' Grandma's middle name, so there is a little meaning in there I suppose.

I am a firm believer in not committing to a name until you are holding the baby in your arms--it feels like too much pressure to name them beforehand. So Chris and I go to the hospital with a short list of names we both like. Britta is my grandma's name and for that reason, I was really hesitant to commit to it when Britta was born. I wanted to make sure I was naming her Britta because it was really her name and not out of any sense of obligation. Plus, my grandma is the only other Britta I have ever known and so it felt really strange at first to call my child Britta. I fought against the name for a few days even though deep down I knew that it was her name. When I finally did commit to naming her Britta, it was like I couldn't even imagine how I ever thought her name could be anything else.

This time, as soon as Elodie was in my arms I looked at Chris and said "Is she a Tess?" and we both shook our heads. I then said "Is she an Elodie?" and we immediately felt good about it. It was kind of nice not to have the three day window of calling her "baby girl" and trying out different names on her like we did with Britta. At one point they threatened not to let us leave the hospital with Britta because we hadn't chosen a name. Gotta love New York.

We love the name, even though we have already had it mispronounced on several occasions. It is the cutest thing in the world to hear Britta say it, and every time someone comes over to see the baby she says "Her name is Elodie" like ten times.

Elodie Mae

On Monday, August 19th I went in for my 39 week check-up/ The week previous my doctor had told me I was dilated to 1.5 cm and 25% effaced. This week I was really hoping for some progress since I had been having some good Braxton Hicks contractions. The prognosis was 1.5 cm and 60% effaced--at least something was progressing. When I went to bed that night I noticed that the moon looked full so I looked up the lunar calendar and saw that the 20th was the full moon. When you are 9 months pregnant, you will grasp at any glimmer of hope that the end is near so I decided to put my faith in the old wives tale that the full moon can bring on labor.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a contraction that felt like it might be the real thing. I got super excited and was rewarded with no more contractions. So, I said a little prayer that labor would come and went back to sleep. I woke up at about 6:45 on Tuesday morning with contractions again. I went to the bathroom and discovered I had lost my mucous plug (yum). I got all excited again and then did some research that said losing your mucous plug basically just means you are massively pregnant and going to have a baby in the next few weeks. You can imagine my delight. Over the next hour while I was getting ready and trying to decide if I should go to work, my contractions were super irregular but not going away. I decided to call my mom and let her know that it might happen soon and go to work to keep myself occupied. My mom immediately booked a plane ticket and was on her way. I suddenly got really worried that it wasn't the real thing and she was going to come out here for no reason, but Chris was convinced that it was going to happen in the next 24 hours as well so I went with it, really hoping it was not a false alarm.

I went to work, went and picked Britta up from Chris's parents house, put her down for a nap, went for a walk around the neighborhood, bounced on my yoga ball, and generally tried to distract myself. By about 3pm, I was getting discouraged because my contractions were still really sporadic and not really getting any stronger or closer together. Just when I decided that it was indeed false labor, they started coming every ten minutes like clockwork. So, we went out to dinner, installed the baby car seat and decided to take Britta over to Chris's sister's house to spend the night. By this time it was 8 pm and they were still every 8-10 minutes apart, but still somewhat sporadic. My mom was on her way to our house from the airport and we went home to wait. My mom and sister pulled up to our house at just after 9, and I kid you not, from that point on my contractions got steadily closer and stronger. Baby girl was just waiting for her Mimi.

By about 10pm, they were seven minutes apart or closer and I decided to call my Dr's office. The on-call doctor told me that usually they would wait to have me come in but to head over to the hospital since I was a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section) patient and they wanted to do some monitoring. I decided to wait until my contractions were at least five minutes apart so I could labor at home longer. By 11pm, they were. So we went to the hospital with my mom and sister and by the time we got there they were about four minutes apart. As we were walking in I looked at Chris and said "if they check me and I am 1.5 cm dilated and 60% effaced, I am going to punch someone." Lo and behold, 1.5 cm dilated and 60% effaced. An entire day's worth of contractions for no reason. Awesome.

The nurse told me to walk the halls of the hospital for two hours and then come back and she would check me again. If it looked like I had made progress, they would admit me. My sister had left by this point since she had to be up for work the next day, so Chris, my mom, and myself explored every square inch and stair well of Skagit Valley Hospital. I was really glad it was the middle of the night since I looked super awesome in my hospital robe stopping every two minutes to breath through contractions. I think I also visited every bathroom in the hospital during our stroll.

At 2:15 am, we went back and the nurse checked me. I was at a 3 and 80% effaced. Booyah--I was not going home! I got set up in my room and decided I wanted to try out laboring in the whirlpool tub. I got in and it was so relaxing, but really increased the intensity of my contractions. After about 45 minutes I got out and wanted the juice. I had decided to labor as long on my own as I could, but by no means wanted to go natural. I am just not that strong, people. So they checked me and I was at a 5/6 and told me I could get the epidural if I wanted it. I did.

The anesthesiologist came in and placed my epidural and told me to let him know if I had any weird symptoms. I had a ringing in my ears, but it went away after a minute or two so he thought everything would be fine. He said it should take 10-15 minutes to fully kick in and he would come back and check on me. Now, I had an epidural with Britta so I know what they are supposed to feel like, and this wasn't it. With Britta it was like and immediate slice of heaven; this was like a giant needle in the back and then crazy painful contractions that brought tears to my ears. I was so looking forward to some relief and then not to get any was devastating--hence the tears. So, after about an hour the anesthesiologist came back in, removed my epidural and proceeded to give me a new one, which he didn't like the placement of, so three giant needles in the back. And guess what? Nothing. (Disclaimer: my legs did go numb for a short while so I think the epidural did take some of the edge off, but I was in intense pain and having back labor at this point so I know it was not working like it should have).

By this point, I was at an 8/9 and 100% effaced. There was a small lip in my cervix that they were waiting to thin out and then they were going to break my water and have me push. By this point I was in blinding pain and things were kind of a blur. I know my doctor got there at about 8 am and I was at a 10 and 100% effaced. She decided to break my water and do a few test pushes to see if I could just push past the slight swelling of my cervix. I did a push or two and she gave me the green light to continue.

She went across the street to the clinic and I started pushing. Pushing was wonderful. Aside form the fact that I felt like I was pooping myself every time I pushed, it was way better than just suffering through the contractions. About 45 minutes into pushing, the nurse was all of a sudden like "Wait! Stop! Let me call the Dr.!" Apparently, I had one super great push that almost delivered the head before they were expecting it. The two or three minutes that I was not allowed to push while we waited for the Dr. were agony. It was all I could do not to just push the dang thing out--screw whether the doctor was there or not. Finally she showed up and I gave one huge push and out came her head and within two or three more pushes, she was all the way out. They immediately plopped her on my chest and I got to see her, gross slime and all. It was incredible.

I have had several people ask me whether this was better than my c-section. I will not lie, this was WAY more painful. At one point, I wanted to be like "alright forget this, just cut me open." But being able to hold my baby girl right afterward and go home the next day, and pee on my own without a catheter that day--all pluses. Yesterday I sneezed and I didn't feel like I was being ripped in half. That's not to say the recovery is all roses, but it sure beats having your abdomen muscles literally sawed through, and not being able to feel your incision site for a year.

All in all, we are just happy that she got here safely and that everything went so smoothly. I did not have any of the complications that I did with Britta and the word C-section was never even mentioned. I felt so much more in control than I did in New York.

We are in love with this new little one and Britta has been an absolute gem of a big sister. We couldn't be happier (well....I could do with some more sleep...but....)

Going to the hospital! I love not being pregnant anymore.

Let's be frank.

About pregnancy. It bites the big one. I hear some women talk about how much they love being pregnant, and how they feel so empowered with the new life growing inside of them. Is is really possible that some people feel this way? I am a fat, bloated, heartburn ridden, puffy ball of grotesqueness and I am feeling every second of it.

About a month ago people started asking me if I was due any minute. That was with 2 1/2 months to go. Now, with six weeks to go, I am asked at least once a week if I am to be the proud mother of twins. I didn't know skin could stretch this much. I didn't know you could function when you feel like you've been punched in the crotch repeatedly.  Did you know that water can give you heartburn? Seriously, water. Isn't my body like 90% water (or 50% water, 50% huge baby)? Flip flops are starting to feel uncomfortably tight and my cheeks look like they're stuffed with marshmallows. I waddle. I pee every thirty minutes. No matter how well I eat or exercise, I step on the scale and want to die. I had a nurse tell me that maybe I should "eat less and exercise more." I almost punched her.

I think we might be a two child family. But, then again, if I get to cuddle another one of these in a few weeks I might (just might) survive.

Bath from Erika Herman on Vimeo.

ABCs

I just love this kid.

Tulips

22 weeks

 Photo shoot before Church. My frontside and backside are the same size. Scary. We told Britta to kiss my belly and she kissed my crotch. Apparently she is not as tall as we thought. 

Baby Two

I always told myself that I would not be one of those people who fawns over her first child and then barely acknowledges all other children that follow. I mean  not that I have a middle child complex or anything, but there is literally one picture of me before I hit the age of about 18 months. I chalk it up to one of three reasons A) I'm really adopted B) I was one ugly baby or C) my parents were running around like chickens with their heads cut off after my older brother that they simply didn't have the time or energy to take pictures of sweet, perfect, angel baby me. I'm going with option C. Regardless, this child has already received way less air time on the blog and I am going to attempt to amend that now. Blogs seem to be a dying art, but since they are my form of journaling I am committing to plow on.

If you saw my video below announcing arrival of baby two to our family you may have noticed how many times I plead ignorance and surprise to the whole situation. Now I wish I had some sort of filter so this child doesn't one day watch that video and think she was totally unwanted. While I was surprised, I do know how the reproductive system works. Without going into too much detail, what really surprised me was how quickly it worked in this instance--we're talking like one day Britta was super cute and I thought I wanted another one and then the next day I wasn't convinced anymore. Too late. On average Chris and I are only in the same state like 36 hours a week...so....

So even though baby was a marginal surprise, we could not have been happier. I found out the day after my birthday--two days after we got home from the Dominican Republic--so I don't think that's where this baby came from. I debated waiting to tell Chris on Christmas Eve with the rest of his family because I thought it would really add to the shock value, but then I caved ten seconds later and called him. I'm impressed I kept it a secret for a week from our families.

My first trimester was pretty smooth sailing. There were a couple nights when I felt sick, but nothing too drastic which was a real blessing since I was doing the single parent thing. Britta was an easy pregnancy too, so I guess I am just lucky that way. I think it is a trade off for looking like a blimp during pregnancy. I don't know how many woman think they look good while pregnant, but I KNOW I don't. I get pregnant in all the wrong places--butt, face, love handles. No real boob growth and no basketball under my shirt. That's fine by me, I would rather look like a Heffalump than barf my brains out.

At my first Dr.'s appointment at 12 weeks, I went in for the initial ultrasound and was shocked when the Dr. asked me if I wanted to know the gender. I just sort of sat there in my hospital gown and stirrups debating whether it would make me the worst wife in the world to find out without my husband there. Finally I asked "can you even tell this early?" followed by "is it a boy" because that was the only thing that would make sense. Why would they ask me if there was nothing there--there must be an outie, right? He responded with pretty much 100% certainty that it was a boy, the nurse backing him up all the way. I was shocked and elated. I tried to figure out how to tell Chris. I went out to Old Navy and bought some baby boy shoes (and two pairs of socks for Britta).

When Chris got home that night, the first thing he asked was how my appointment went. Instead of answering, I handed him the Old Navy bag and said, "see for yourself." He gave me a weird look and then looked at me in disbelief and said "No Way! It's twins!!?" I had apparently forgotten to take Britta's socks out of the bag and he saw two pairs of socks and went from there. Why he didn't notice the shoes that were twice the size of the socks, who knows. When I told him that no (praise be) it was not twins, but to look at the shoes he was even more shocked. He didn't believe me until I showed him the ultrasound pictures.

Exhibit A:

So we have spent the last two months fighting over boy names and trying to figure out how to do a blended boy/girl nursery. During this time I switched Dr.'s and hospitals because I have decided to attempt a VBAC and the hospital in my town does not allow them. On Tuesday I met with our new Dr. and had the big 20 week ultrasound. I was already 21 weeks and Chris is on the road for another four weeks so we couldn't really postpone it until he was home. I figured it was okay since we already knew the gender and that's the most exciting part anyway. So I'm lying there and she asks me if I want to know the gender. I say I do and she says it's a girl. I just start laughing and tell her that I was told at my 12 week it was a boy. She double and triple checks and is pretty definitive that it is a girl. I knew I should have listened to my instincts that 12 weeks was way too early to know, but the Dr. seemed so sure. I could tell that my new Dr. was worried I would be upset, but actually it was not a tough adjustment at all. I went into this pregnancy not caring one bit which gender this baby would be. Truth be told, I think I am more excited now that I know it's a girl because I think it will be so awesome for Britta. When I called and told Chris he thought I was pulling his leg. Then he said "So, you're telling me we have to think of another girl name?" But really, he is very excited. He is such a wonderful Daddy and there is nothing like a sweet little girl to turn her Dad into a puddle of goo.

Exhibit B:

So as of now, we are 21.5 weeks, happy, healthy and large. This little girl moves all day and we are so excited for her to be in our family. Now we just need to wean Britta off the binkie, potty train her, and move her into a big girl bed in the next four months. Anybody want to come do that for me?

Big Top Birthday Bash

As mentioned below, Britta has a n obsession with Dumbo. So I thought there would be no better to celebrate her second birthday than with a Dumbo circus-themed party for her and her homies. We had circus fare, including hot dogs, popcorn, lemonade, and peanuts (nutter butters). When my cupcakes were a major fail, my wonderful friend Suzanna came through at the last minute with some awesome red velvet beauties. The cupcake toppers were just a random picture I found on the internet and taped to toothpicks--I'm all about thrift baby.

Britta had a wonderful time until it came to her cake. She freaked out when I pulled the wrapper off her cupcake. Apparently she just wanted to hold the cupcake without getting her hands dirty and lick off all the frosting. I figured this out after she proceeded to do it to approximately three cupcakes. She knows what she likes.

All in all, it was a great day. Miracles of miracles, the sun even came out for a bit! :)