Week one with Gabriel

We all are head over heels crazy in love with Gabe. He is such a sweet little guy. We've had some really sweet moments with him around here. I especially love seeing Michael and Rachel with him. 

My parents were staying with us for the first week home to help us out. They were awesome about getting Michael ready for school and taking him to school. My dad entertained Rachel and took Michael and Rachel on several outings--usually to a thrift store where he let them pick out a book or a toy. He also spoiled them with donuts. My mom helped so much with dinner, feedings, doctor's appointment visits, helping me pick up our Mazda from the dealership (where it had been for four weeks while they fixed a few things and installed a new transmission, which thankfully was caused by another problem that was under warranty). I was pretty tired, and horrible about taking pictures of Gabe with my parents. Fail!

 With Gabe around, everyone's nurturing instincts came out:

 Michael and Rachel constantly smother Gabe with kisses and always want to hold him or feed him.

The day after I got home from the hospital, my milk started coming in, which was not very pleasant. I find it kind of funny that when you're nursing, you have to try so hard to get your milk in. It feels like such an up-hill battle involving lots of pumping and worrying about your supply drying up. In fact, everyone says to not let your baby go more than 3 hours without eating or you could dry up. No underwire bras. Eat well. All that. And then, I found myself on the other side. I did absolutely nothing, and my milk came in anyway, and it kept coming until I was absolutely miserable. Experts said that pumping would just keep making it worse. Out of desperation, I tried pumping anyway, but that didn't help and only produced the most pathetic bit of colostrum, which I happily dumped into Gabe's bottle. I tried ice packs and cabbage leaves. I cried and cried Tuesday night, trying to figure out ANYTHING find relief. The nurse at my doctor's office suggested benedryl and ibuprofen. I was already taking ibuprofen, but I added benedryl and continued taking percuset, which I'd been trying to avoid since it made me so sleepy and dizzy. So, I spent a good chunk of my week with my mom completely drugged up and lethargic because that was the only thing that helped. Finally, after a few miserable days, my supply lessened and finally went away just over a week after I got home. 

 It was totally worth that miserable week to not be nursing though. Can I just say how much I am enjoying NOT nursing? Everyone enjoys the fact that I'm not nursing:

 I was worried that the nurses and our pediatrician would give us grief over the no nursing decision, but everyone has been so supportive, especially our pediatrician.

Remember that whale onesie that Michael made for Gabe at his shower? Well, here it is on our sweet model:

 And with it's creator:

 During that first week, Gabe also got his first bath. I know you can't tell by his face, but he LOVED it. I think he would have stayed in there for hours.  

 Getting out? Less thrilled about that one.

 Look how tiny he is:

 My parents headed home on Friday, when Gabe turned one week old. We were so grateful for their help with cleaning, cooking, and even a little painting downstairs. Later that afternoon, I took Gabriel's newborn pictures:

 I'd been planning on this newsboy outfit thing for his pictures for months leading up to his arrival, and I commissioned my sister Emily to make this outfit for me. It didn't arrive when USPS said it was delivered, and I spent several worried days upset over it and frustrated with our mail carriers for losing this important, irreplaceable, time sensitive package. Thankfully, it showed up almost a week after it said it was delivered, and I was able to have the outfit just in time. Phew! A few tears were shed in the meantime though.

 When I asked Em to make the newsboys outfit, I picked out the pattern, and somehow, Emily accidentally printed the wrong one and made these cute overalls instead:

She sent me the finished picture and I said, "Uh, they're cute, but I wanted pants with suspenders." She figured out what happened, made the other pants, and gave me both outfits. Isn't she awesome?

 Also, a shout-out to Brian's Aunt Martie for the afgan that Gabe is laying on. It was so perfect for this shoot!

 And Chelsea game me this awesome thin swaddler blanket:

 This was the easiest newborn shoot I've ever done because Gabe is just so chill. He just went right to sleep and stayed asleep, which was really nice since my studio is loaded up with furniture (so we could drywall the other rooms), and we had to do this shoot on the kitchen table, which meant I couldn't get it really roasty toasty up there. Turns out, it doesn't have to be super warm for Gabe to sleep.

On Sunday, Brian got the kids, minus Gabe, and himself ready for 8:30 church, and Gabe and I stayed home and slept. Even though he didn't go to church, I still dressed him in his tie onesie, and had to take a picture of him with Rachel, since she helped make it:

In case you missed it, we're completely head over heels crazy about our little Gabriel.

Gabriel is Here!

As awful as this last pregnancy was, it should have come as no surprise that there would be one final frustrating, angry day before his wonderful arrival. 

Back in January or February, my doctor asked me if I wanted to schedule an induction. I liked how it went with Rachel, so I said, "Yeah, let's do it!" She pulled out her calendar and suggested two dates-- April 14th (when I would be exactly at 39 weeks) or one on April 21 (right at 40 weeks). I asked her what she thought, and she said, "If it were me, I'd go for the 14th." So, I went for the 14th. I was so excited to have an end date set, even though I had this thought that it probably wouldn't happen on that date.  I called Brian to let him know, and he seemed a little panicked about it. "Isn't that kind of early?" And then I told him about what the doctor said, and he was fine. But, based on comments that I got when I mentioned Rachel's induction 3 years ago, I decided I only let people know this information on a need to know basis. I don't like it when people second-guess my decisions (especially when I'm riding the Crazy Train). 

Time, as it often does during hard times, dragged on and somehow flew by at the same time. April 13th arrived. I'd been having weak-sauce contractions on and off (mostly off) for about 2 weeks by this point, and based on where I was at the doctor's visit the day before, I was feeling pretty confident and excited about my induction the next day. I made my final preparations, and Brian loaded the car with all our stuff. Lea was set to race over to our house the second we got the call from the doctor the next day. I went to bed and struggled to sleep due to worry and excitement. I may have gotten 2 hours of sleep. I finally gave up the fight at 6:30 and headed into the living room to read. Michael and Rachel got up shortly thereafter and I snuggled with them in the rocking chair, breathing in what I thought were the final hours of being a family of four. 

And I waited. And waited. And waited for the call from the hospital. At 11:30, I called the hospital (since that was the instruction if I didn't hear from them before then). I found out that they were really full and that a nurse would call me back in a little bit with more information. My hopes started to deflate, but refused to completely sink until the nurse finally called back. She began by apologizing and then telling me that they were not going to be able to do my induction that day. She said that they could either put me first on the list for the next day, in which case a different doctor would oversee me (not my regular one that I loved and patiently/anxiously counted the days for her to get back in town when she left for spring break), or wait until the next Tuesday (this was a Thursday). She said I could call her back with my decision. 

Long story shorter, I cried. I yelled. I was livid; I was so sad. I felt like both choices were bad, and I was so so so so so so soooooooo upset. I spent the rest of the day in my room because I just couldn't deal with it all anymore. I was so exhausted already. I knew that my tired body and mind simply could not wait until Tuesday, especially since I would have to re-figure out what to do with my kids and re-work every possible scenario to any and all arrangements. Our bags were already loaded. Our kids' backpacks were ready. And if I could have hand-picked which date my son's birthday would be, April 15th would have been it. So, I had Brian call the hospital and put us on the list for Friday. This time, they gave us a specific time to be there: 7 a.m.. Brian also handled communication for the rest of the day with all the people who were expecting us to be at the hospital (AKA, our parents, Lea, Chelsea, and probably others I don't remember about) and made sure everything was set with Lea and his mom for the next day. I just could not handle it. I finally texted my mom at one point, but ignored everything and everyone else. 

I was still pretty upset the next morning when we headed out the door. Brian turned on the radio and started making his way through the presets to find a good song. One station was playing Salt-N-Pepa's "Push It." We couldn't help it; we started laughing. (Anyone who's seen the episode of Chuck where Ellie has her baby will think this is even funnier.) It helped ease most of my grouchiness. 

We got to the hospital, they got me started on an IV, and then I met Dr. Thomas. He was a nice fellow, and with that meeting, my remaining orneriness went away. He ended up being really great, and I had the best delivery experience I've ever had. I got hooked up to Oxytocin at around 8 a.m., and then the anesthesiologist gave me my epidural around 9. And I tried to take a nap, and I think I did sleep a little. And we waited. We channel surfed. We made small talk with our nurse, Jenna, who was pretty awesome, even though she was a little inexperienced. The doctor broke my water--well, punctured it anyway. It was a fairly uneventful 4 or 5 hours.

Then, around 2 p.m., the nurse checked me and I was dilated to a 4. She started typing that and my vitals into the computer and I started feeling kind of yucky. I told her, "I think things must be really progressing because I feel like I want to throw up." (side note: I don't throw up very often, and I hadn't thrown up once the entire pregnancy.) 

Brian piped in: "Yeah, we should probably get some throw up bags because when she was in labor with our 6-year-old, she needed to throw up, and no one had given us any bags, and no one was around and she threw up all over herself." 

"Yeah," I agreed, "you should probably give me a bag. Like right now."

She gave me a bag, I immediately threw up. 

When I was done, she checked me again. I was at a 6, And I had this uncomfortable spot in my back. So, Brian and Jenna tried to help me find a better position, but nothing seemed to help. I started to feel more uncomfortable. Brian figured out that that uncomfortable spot was probably a contraction, and sure enough, I only felt it during a contraction. 

I decided that because I had had such a horrible pregnancy, and because I was super tired,  I wasn't going to be in pain for this delivery. So, I pushed my epidural button, waited 15 minutes and then pushed it again. And then I pushed it one more time as I quickly went from a 6 to a 10 and then could feel our baby trying to make his way out. They got the doctor in, got set up while I looked at the clock and felt our baby trying to come without me doing any pushing. Dr. Thomas said it was good that he was doing that. Finally, we were ready. Dr. Thomas had this thing down to a science, and instructed the nurse and Brian how to help me push our little guy out. I pushed through 2 contractions, and our Gabriel was in the world. It was 3:45 p.m.

He was covered in what looked like lard, and he refused to cry. Brian cut his cord, and I looked at him while they wiped him off, sucked junk out of his mouth, and finally coaxed a little squawk out of him. He was purply, but perfect. 

They cleaned him up, and while he looked mad, he barely made a sound. He had Apgar scores of 8 and 9. Everything was great. He weighed 7 pounds, 10 ounces and measured 19 inches.

And, amazingly, for the first time ever, they didn't need to send our baby to the NICU for more tests and observations. Once they got him cleaned up, and diapered, and capped, they passed him back to me for a little skin-to-skin cuddling. Brian and I were a little lost. We kept saying, "Wow, so this is what is supposed to happen."

Gabriel was perfect in every way. He reminded us both so much of his siblings. We couldn't stop smiling.

They kept me in labor and delivery for two hours, and then they took us down to our room in Mother/Baby. Not too long after we got settled in, Julie came with Michael and Rachel. They were so excited. Rachel kept saying, "Baby Gabe is not in your belly?" 

Michael was completely head over heels for his new brother from the get-go. I love this picture that Brian took of my two sons:

Rachel was so excited to hold her baby brother too. In fact, when her Nana asked if she could hold him, Rachel said, "No!"

  Lea came too, but I had forgotten to tell her that only my kids would be allowed in the unit, and so she had brought Skyler with her. She patiently waited until Julie could go switch her. 

Lea immediately stepped into her role as our family photographer and took lots of pictures. Here we are, an official family of five:

Michael could not get enough of his brother.

Lea had watched the kids during the day, taking Rachel with her on Skyler's preschool field trip. My neighbor and friend, Berta, kept Michael after school until Lea was finished with the field trip. After the hospital visit, Julie took them to her house for the night, and it sounds like she spoiled them. She took them to McDonald's for lunch the next day and let them play and play in the play place. Brian met Julie after that and took the kids out to pick out presents for Gabe:

And Gabe gave Rachel and Michael presents too, isn't he so awesome?

My parents came down from Idaho to stay a week and help out.

They took Michael and Rachel home to our house and watched them until we came home the next afternoon.

Meanwhile, Brian and I got a little obsessed with our third-born. He was so sweet and so good. He didn't really cry. When he was really upset, he'd let out this little squawk that reminded me of a bear cub growl, and we'd immediately rush over to see what was distressing our easy-going boy.

We played some trivial pursuit, held Gabe, talked, napped, had a visit from our Church's hospital representatives (I'm not sure if they're considered missionaries or not) on Sunday morning, and they brought us the sacrament. By then, we were getting a little stir crazy. The hospital beds are NOT very comfortable. We started packing up. Julie was picking Kirt up from the airport, and we waited for them to make their way back down so Kirt could meet his new grandson. While we waited for them to get there, Brian loaded somethings in the car and helped me take some pictures:

We got him dressed, took more pictures

and then Kirt and Julie arrived.

We had a nice  visit with them, and then worked on the final checking out procedures.

 Then, we drove our boy home for the first time in his life. We had a fantastic welcome committee:

And my mom had dinner/late lunch waiting for us. And my neighbor brought a late dinner for us that night.

We went to bed feeling so blessed and so happy to have our family all under one roof. It was worth all the frustration, all the bad, and all the ugly to have this sweet boy join our family.