Reflections on Two Years of Marriage

C and I are celebrating our anniversary today. Two years ago, C and I were surrounded by our friends and families as we read (and cried through) our vows, exchanged rings, danced our hearts out, and began our life together as husband and wife.

It kind of blows my mind, to be honest. On the one hand, it sort of feels like we’ve been together FOREVER already. Like, how could it ONLY be two years? We’ve been through so much together in 730 days (no, make that 731, because this year was a Leap Year): the birth of our daughter, the death of my mother, the deaths of two grandparents, buying and moving into a new home, a job change for me, two emergency room visits, two flights across country, about 962 illnesses (yes, I realize that is more than one illness per day, but I still think that is an accurate count), and now our second pregnancy. Whoooosh! It’s no wonder we are so exhausted!

And yet, on the other hand, sometimes it feels like we have JUST gotten married. Despite or maybe because of all the craziness we’ve been through, and all the “thick and thin” we’ve experienced in our brief time together, I still find myself just absolutely CRAVING time together with my husband.  I feel like we help each other with daily stresses (out-of-control laundry situation, work-day gone awry, a house in desperate need of cleaning), we are super partners in parenting, and we have been each other’s true supports through the challenges of the past years. But it feels like we’ve had maybe a week’s worth of non-stressful, non-parental, JUST US time in the past two years.

I am comforted greatly by the fact that C and I have gotten through the past two years without much fighting. I figure that if we could adjust, as a couple, to the myriad of life stresses and emotions that we’ve experienced these past two years, and come out on the other side still holding hands and kissing one another with love and passion, we’ve got a good thing going on.

Do I hope things get easier, and that the years ahead will be less stressful? Absolutely. Do I think they will actually BE less stressful? Very, very VERY doubtful. Because I know that raising two kids will be trying, and that our family will doubtless experience more grief, more stresses, more illness, and more unforeseen curveballs that will surely throw us for a loop.

I also know that our roles as parents will continue to eclipse our roles as wife and husband, and that C and I will need to make concerted efforts to find time and space to connect. JUST US. I know that is going to be key to keeping us strong and happy, and our family foundation strong and happy.

In our third year of marriage, I am going to make C and Me Time a priority. Even with the new baby’s arrival, and with the added responsibilities that will come with raising another child, I am going to make it my personal mission to make sure my husband and I get a date night every few weeks. Because I owe it to C, and I owe it to me, and I want to make sure that in another two years, as we celebrate our fourth anniversary, we are still holding hands and kissing one another with love and passion.

Looking for Advice: Prepping Em for a Little Brother…

I’m a little concerned.

Emmy has been the sun, the moon and the stars of our family for the past 20 months. Our family time has been primarily focused on her needs, and giving her plenty of love and attention.

The new baby’s arrival is going to bring change. Our family dynamic is going to change. As much as I would like to tell myself that even when the baby arrives, I will be able to provide Em with the same amount of love and attention as I am able to today, I know that is not really true. I know that time and attention will need to be shared, and that Emmy will see and feel the difference.

I have tried explaining to Em that I have a baby growing inside me. On a few occasions, Emmy has kissed my belly, as if acknowledging the baby’s presence. On other occasions, Emmy has pulled my shirt back down over my belly and said “Bye bye, Baby!”

Mmmm… this is going to be tough.

I want to prepare Emmy for being a big sister. I have read and researched what other parents have done. They have read books about babies with their toddlers in the months leading up to the baby’s arrival. They have bought their toddlers baby dolls and played “family” to help the toddler get acquainted with a baby’s needs.  They have involved their toddlers in preparing the baby’s room and belongings, so they start understanding that change is on the horizon.

This all makes sense, of course.

But Emmy hardly ever sits through an entire book.

 And while she likes putting her baby doll to bed, she also REALLY seems to like throwing her doll on the ground for amusement.

And I have no idea yet as to what we are going to do with the baby room to make it “ready” for our little monkey (except that in an ideal world, I would love to create a giant wall hanging for the nursery, with a tree and sunshine and birds with pretty beaded eyes and lots of little flowers on the ground… ah, if only there were 4 more hours in a day that I could dedicate to this project).

I know I have plenty of time to prepare Em for what is coming. I know that once my belly really starts popping out, and the baby starts moving and kicking, it will be easier for me to talk to Emmy about her little brother. I know that by the time the baby arrives, Emmy might have the patience to sit through an entire book about becoming an older sister, and she might better understand why it is not so great to throw the baby doll on the ground. And maybe in the coming months I will even have a better plan for the baby room, and can involve Em in the preparations.

But I am wondering how others have dealt with this kind of experience. Did you spend much time prepping your first born for the arrival of a sibling? Did they respond well? How did your child react when you brought the new baby home? How have you and your family adjusted to a new dynamic? Any suggestions on how we can help Em prepare?

But I Don't Know if I Can...

Emmy’s birth was a far cry from the one I had imagined. In the days leading up to the projected date of my daughter’s birth, I daydreamed about what the experience was going to be like. I envisioned a semi-panicked, middle-of-the-night ride to the hospital in the back seat of my husband’s car. I envisioned sitting on a birthing ball, begging for ice chips and cold washcloths to cool my forehead, and singing very loudly through my contractions as they got closer and closer together. I envisioned groaning and moaning, and walking and squatting, and burning sensations and maybe a lot of screaming. I envisioned squeezing my husband’s hand with all my might as I clenched down and used all my emotional and physical strength to push Emmy out into the world.

None of that really happened. Instead, Em stayed inside my uterus ten days past my due date, and after a not-so-spiffy non-stress test, I was admitted to our birthing center and administered cervidil. Though I started to experience something that seemed akin to normal contractions on the cervidil, it wasn’t long before I was put on pitocin, and contractions were forced mightily upon my body.

Now, I have heard plenty of women try to describe what their natural contractions have felt like, and what I felt was NOTHING like their descriptions. I found out the hard way that induced contractions, coupled with back labor, feel like whopping electrical shocks sent right through the spine. Every contraction felt like a burst of lightning had hit my body. And the pitocin drip made sure it happened every few minutes for hours and hours on end, leaving little time for recuperation or rest.  

I have had my share of broken limbs, teeth terrors, and other physical pains in my life. I think for the most part I have dealt rather well with pain. But I could NOT deal with pitocin/back labor contractions. It was too much for my body to take. After 16 hours of crying hysterically and feeling like my body was being ripped into two pieces every few minutes, I gave in and ordered an epidural. And the next morning I had a c-section.

The afternoon following Emmy’s birth, the operating doctor came over to me and explained that I had a very unusual septate uterus that had prevented Emmy from getting into proper position for birth. She also told me that she wasn’t sure I would be able to have a VBAC delivery if I was to have a second baby, and she told me I should see a uterine specialist to further investigate the issue.

I was somewhat relieved to hear that there was apparently nothing more I could have done to try and birth Emmy the natural way. I had wanted a med-free, operation-free birth for my daughter, but that just hadn’t been in the cards for us, thanks to my body’s apparent oddity.

Since Emmy’s birth, I have had two ultrasounds examining my uterus, and no one has been able to find the septum that apparently is hiding somewhere. It’s a complete mystery. I am sure the operating doctor wouldn’t have LIED to me about my crazy septum, but no other doctor has been able to find it.

Now, being pregnant with my second child, I have become semi-obsessed with figuring out what is going on inside my uterus. I want to know if, because of this mysterious and ellusive septum, I should not even be getting my hopes up for a VBAC birth. It would be pretty horrible to get  myself all mentally and emotionally prepared for a natural birth again, just to find out it simply isn’t a possibility.

But what if the septum WAS a fluke? What if the doctor THOUGHT she saw something, but it wasn’t really there? What if I AM capable of having a VBAC?

I have asked my midwives to get their hands on the detailed medical reports from the birthing center Emmy was born in (which is no longer in existence). I have asked them to speak with the operating doctor to see if they can jog her memory and find out more about what she saw. I am determined to find out as much as I can, because I want to know if my body is capable of birthing without medical intervention. I need to know.

When I talk to my co-workers about my VBAC dreams and my desire to feel my body naturally go into labor, they look at me like I am crazy. The most common response is, “why don’t you just schedule a c-section and get it over with?”

But if I have a choice in the matter, I don’t just want to “get it over with.” I want to experience contractions. I want to LABOR. I want to have the same “holy crap I can’t believe my body just did that” experience that so many other women have felt.

I just don’t know if it will even be possible.