Part 4 is coming...

I've written and re-written this post. I'm almost ready to post part 4 of my delivery story. It should be up tomorrow afternoon. Thanks for sticking with me. This was an emotional post for me...

They Dropped Me Off (Part 3)

We pulled up to the front entrance and Chanah got out of her car. We had followed behind her in ours, so I looked at Bryan before getting out and he gave me a little smile.

Chanah told me to wait right in the front for her and Bryan to return so we could get registered. I stood there by a lonely piano, looking out at the hospitals front windows and ran all the different scenarios through my head. Was this my fault? How could I fix it? What kind of control did I have to get through this and still be a whole person after?

When Bryan and Chanah met me, we went straight up to Triage. Chanah explained the process and I kept shaking with nervousness while Bryan was strong and silent. I filled out the necessary information and we were escorted to a tiny room with a curtain for a door. I was told to strip down and they'd take care of me.

I was hooked up to a series of gadgets and monitored over the next two or three hours. It was definitely pre-eclampsia, we would definitely be staying and we would be delivering that baby sooner rather than later.

We got into a room, settled in as much as possible, I was poked and prodded and attached to magnesium (which is awful) and soon the doctors came in to check me and get a game plan. Cervix was soft but closed. We were no where near ready to start labor and this translated to only one thing, lots of medical intervention. The one thing I wanted to avoid would now be my reality.

The doctors plan was to use Cervadil, a "mild" cervix softener that would help to dilate my cervix. It's inserted into the cervix and stays there for twelve hours. At this point, it was 10:00pm. Our midwife had left and it was just Bryan and I. I kept shaking. Its common for me to get nervous and start to shiver, but I was so scared that I was having full on shakes, and Bryan would talk to me to calm me down. We got dozed off for a while until things got really got started. 

I don't remember a whole lot about the Cervadil process. All I know is that I started to have intense contractions, one right after the other, often double peaking. I remember that instead of my normal contraction hum, I was saying to Bryan, "Nooooo." over and over again. I remember hearing myself say that I couldn't do it, they were too strong too fast. Bryan would talk me through it and another one would come. Apparently, I had a very strong reaction to the Cervadil which was not the norm for the medicine and the nurses said it could have been a "strong batch." 

I wasn't the only one having a negative reaction to the Cervadil, unfortunately, Shepherd was too. I wasn't aware enough at the time to know, but after I would have one of the crazy contractions, Shepherd's heart rate would dip and take a while to recover - he was having a hard time too. We barely reached the three hour mark when the doctor came in to take out the medicine. I had dilated to a one. They decided to let Shepherd and I rest for about an hour before they used a non-medicinal approach that would help me open to a four. 

Bright and early Sunday morning, they inserted a balloon (THREE TIMES) into my cervix and filled it with a saline solution. Bryan said that he got frustrated that it took so many times because it was obviously causing me a lot of pain. The Foley Balloon would act as the babies head to put pressure on the cervix and get it to dilate. At the end of the balloon, they tied a rubber strap and at the end of that strap was a bag of saline solution. The saline bag was putting tension on the balloon to really get it to sit on my cervix. When the time was right, meaning my cervix had opened it a four, it would pop out right out on its own. 

My contractions returned to a normal pattern and we got to rest in between them. In the morning, I begged for food because I was getting a migraine. They took pity on me and gave me some fruit, yogurt and an Motrin to knock the migraine out. I was able to sleep off and on that whole day and visit with Bryan's mom, Sylvia, my mom and sisters. 

The balloon popped out sometime that evening... Bryan guesses sometime after 4:30pm. Then, it was all about the Pitocin. Every half hour then increased the dose by two grams. After resting for some more time, at about 10:00 pm, my sisters and Bryan helped to get me into different positions to labor. Earlier, when I was ballooning it up and laboring, we had christian music playing. We needed a change of pace and some new energy so we put on Maroon 5. I changed positions a billion times, got on a birthing ball, did some squats, rocked my pelvis, everything. I was surrounded by people dedicated to making this birth happen, and I hoped to have our baby before the 7:00am shift change Monday morning.

I remember bits and pieces of these moments and have had to ask for clarification by my visitors to help me get the rest of it together. I remember at this point feeling like I could do this. It was late night Sunday, I was moving and grooving to get the baby to position himself better so that I could deliver vaginally. I had been on Pitocin for twenty-four hours and while I felt pain, I was handling it. I was breathing through it. I believed I could do it and more importantly, I was surrounded by people that believed I could do it, which truly makes all the difference in the world. 

All the Things I Didn't Do (Part 2)

As I walked to my phone to call my midwife and I touched my pregnant belly, I thought of all the things I hadn't done...

I hadn't taken maternity pictures.
I hadn't washed all of his little clothes.
I hadn't organized all his things.
I hadn't sent out my almost completely written thank you cards from the baby shower.
I hadn't cleaned the bathrooms, made extra meals or dealt with the animals.

I paced around the house listening to my midwife and feeling Shepherd kick. It went from easiest pregnancy ever: scheduled home birth; To a high risk non-negotiable hospital birth in seconds.

"It's too high, Megan. It won't come down on its own. We have to recalculate our thinking and do what is best for you. Take a shower, pack a bag for you, Bryan and the baby, and come to Fresno. I'll check you myself and we will go from there."

I agreed and we hung up. I stood with my phone in my hand and eyed my already halfway packed bag. Bryan asked me for details and I walked to the living room, sat down and started sobbing. Everything I had dreamed of, this warm, spiritual birthing experience was morphing into a nightmare. The worst part was there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I was scared. I was not ready for labor. My son, while head down for weeks, wasn't ready. Our "due date" was May 4 and it was only April 6. He was going to be a month early.

Would he be okay?
Would he have fingernails? Eyebrows? What about his lungs? His little heart?

Bryan hugged me. He said we would get through it. No matter what. We held each other close and felt our little boy kick between us. I went into the nursery and started a pile of things to bring for Shepherd. I looked at the tiny clothes, wondering what size he would end up being. I decided to pick a few options, just in case.

I text messaged my midwife and asked if I could take a shower or if we needed to high-tail it up there. She told me to relax, eat a little something, do something simple and manageable for a few days with my hair. She also wanted me to lay down on my left side for 5 to 10 minutes and then check my blood pressure again.

We had only text my mom and sisters at this point with very little details since we had so few, and by the time I got out of the shower, Kari was at my house. We sat on the couch and talked, then I slowly started to get ready. She told me things I should take and snapped a few last minute photos. Bryan left to deal with the dogs.

Kari braided my hair back as she told me it would all be okay. She reminded me I would just have a baby sooner rather than later. I laid down to rest and she prayed over me. Bryan got back and made us lunch, we said bye to Kari and hit the road to Fresno, silent and stunned.

The house my midwife owns is literally just a few confusing turns away from the hospital and after she confirmed what we already knew, we headed to the great unknown - Fresno Community Regional Hospital.

The Beginning (Part 1)

The Wednesday after Easter I woke up feeling a little funny. I figured that I was 'settling in' to the end of my pregnancy and continued working around the house.

Thursday, I went to Visalia with Bryan for an morning appointment and I had a really hard time waking up. I figured I was pushing way too hard and the stress of getting everything done was weighing on me. I needed to give myself a break.

Friday I took it really easy all day and went to Harris Ranch with Bryan to eat a yummy meal and rest, while still getting out of the house.

When we woke up Saturday and I was still exhausted, I knew something was up. I ate a little bit and we watched some of the Hunger Games on Netflix. I kept having this nagging feeling that something wasn't right and a little voice in my head popped up and turning to Bryan, I voiced it, "Babe, get me the blood pressure machine."

I checked it once and was shocked. I googled frantically. I took a walk around the house and checked it again. I googled more. It was a beautiful day and I went for a walk around our block. I came back, laid down, took a breather, and checked it again. Nope. This was it.

My swelling had turned into full blown pre-eclampsia and whether or not Shepherd and I were ready, our pregnancy was over.

Before, During...More During. Ain't no After Photos yet, Ya'll.

Today is my sister's birthday. She is 31 years old. She is my favorite oldest sister.

Not to be confused with my favorite second-oldest sister, Kari.

The one I'm talking about is Alison.

But then again, this post isn't really about her. It's about me. She just happens to be involved.

One year ago, Alison wanted to celebrate her 30th birthday with a bang. I dig that, since you only turn 30 once. It should be awesome. Family from the Central Valley high-tailed it down to San Diego to have a party at a cute little club-ish type room near Old Town and we danced, had In-N-Out and generally a ton of fun.

Except... Well. I was a heifer  Huge! Fat! Heifer! I had just started my weight-loss journey in January and I purposefully was losing the weight slowly, by changing habits. I knew it would be a long, hard road, but I felt that retraining myself on how to eat and live would benefit me in the long run.

And it did. Then I went and got knocked up. Argh.

Anyways, I was trying to find a picture to post of my lovely sister, and I couldn't believe the hideousness of my face. So I didn't post it on Instagram because I'm ashamed. But! Lucky for you, my blog is ripe with too-much-information and baring my shame for all to see. Gotta keep it real, right?

This was me.... ONE YEAR AGO. (shudders)

This was me.... In December, at our Gender Party. Hello face! I recognize you again! You have cheek bones and less chins! Your tiny, squinty eyes aren't being swallowed by your face! Yaaaaay!!!

I took this last one first thing this morning, one year later from the picture with Alison above. I am 29 weeks, 5 days pregnant and 7 pounds heavier than my pre-pregnancy weight. You can see that I have kept my curves (that you can't see in the picture with Alison due to my sweater, but trust me, they were non-existent last February. I was just wide. Wide in alllllllll directions) and of course, the depth of my belly is bigger (there is a baby in there!), but I've gained some weight back in my face. Just when I had started to get it back. (sob)

Sorry for the uncomfortable faces in these pictures... I really hate taking pictures of myself and I especially hate mirror photos. #awkwardkid4life

I try to remind myself that gaining one pound a month so far in pregnancy is a total win and that I will lose it ALL when the baby comes. No matter how hard I have to work or how tired I am.

I will never, ever, ever be that fat girl again.

At least....on the outside. :)

Dreams: What Real Love Does

Yesterday I wrote about dreams. I ended with a pretty important question.

How can you keep the weight of your failed dream from crushing your soul and the spirit of your relationship?

I've been thinking about the answer for a while now. It's not easy. Society has bred us to think of ourselves. To do what is best for us in the moment and what feels good now. We are not a people of long term payoffs. Many, many mistakes have been made because the future was not thought of in a moment where it should have been.

You have to do everything opposite of what your instincts are telling you. Yes, you should cry. Yes, you should talk to your partner. You should be open and honest about your feelings, because stuffing them down will only make them bubble up with a vengeance later.

Truly, the only thing to do is the right thing. You have to pick yourself up and do the right thing for your relationship. Filling your heart with bitterness and resentment is only going to make a terrible situation worse. Just because they failed you does not give you a pass to fail them. You do what you are supposed to do and you do it with as much class and dignity as you can muster. You do it with the right intentions. You don't do it with spite. You do it because you know exactly how it feels when the person you love most doesn't support your dreams. Regardless of what they have done to you, no one deserves to feel the disappointment and heartbreak of a failed dream.

You do what you should do and you do it with a glad heart because even if you never get a reward on earth for it, maybe Jesus will add just a little sparkle to your crown in heaven.

The Weight of Dreams

Dreams. 

It's a common thread between all people. I don't mean sleepy-time rendezvous with famous actors and actresses. When I refer to dreams I mean life-goals. I'm sure you hear it all the time, "If I won the lottery, I would..." "Someday, I'll be a..." "I would be happy if I could..."

Everyone has them. Some are smaller than others. "I want to get through tomorrow without smoking a cigarette." Some are medium-sized. "I want to open up a bakery." Some are huge. "I want to cure cancer."

While dreams differ from person to person and some are 'small' and some are 'large' none is more important than the other. A man whose dream is to quit smoking is no less important that a woman who pushes herself to get one step closer to opening a bakery. These both rival even a lofty, world-altering dream like curing cancer because regardless of the impact of their dreams, they each have one. They each wake up every day knowing that one day, someday, they are going to get to that place.

I hear often that families and relationships break apart because of dreams. A man leaves his wife because she doesn't support his dream of being a pilot. A woman leaves her husband because he doesn't want her to become an actress, ogled by men across the country. Even if they stay together, the bitter bite of resentment tailors their day-to-day life.

A relationship won't function properly if both parties aren't willing to support the dreams of their counterparts. This means celebrating successes, suffering through losses, making sacrifices together. As one. Each person has to be willing to put in the time, labor, money and effort into the dream for it to succeed. However, a dream cannot come true when the dreamer won't put the effort into it. No matter how much you want the dream of your partner to come true, you cannot accomplish it for them. You can support them. You can walk through the hard work with them. You can even reap the reward with them. But it won't be as hard for you... It won't be as sweet a payoff in the end.

I remember when Bryan and I were seriously talking about getting married. I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but it was almost like a business negotiation. Sure, we had love and passion, but were we compatible? Could we support each other's dreams and live a life together? We went back and forth to make sure that we would be true partners, chasing after our own and each others dreams. That we wouldn't discourage the other persons goals and we would certainly not let they other one give up after meeting obstacle after obstacle. We would figure it out together, we would make it happen.

All of us recognize that there are seasons in life. Hills and valleys. Life is unbearably hard at times and others it coasts by, fluid and effortless. There are times that you put yourself aside and give to others, because maybe it's not your moment.

What I want to know is this: What happens when your moment arrives? The time has come; Your dream is on the horizon. You can almost grab hold of it. It's on the tip of your tongue. You are waiting for the support, sacrifice and encouragement from your partner that you have given for however long a season and slowly you realize that it is not coming. The window of opportunity for your dream to come true is only so long, heck, you can even see the end in sight... And you're alone. The return on your investment in making your partners dream come true is not paying off.

What do you do?
Do you let it pass and hope it comes around again?
Do you cry?
Do you approach your partner and say pay up?
How do you recover from that kind of let down?
What do you do with the emotions? The anger? The sadness and heartbreak? The fear that you've committed yourself to someone who didn't truly have the intention of supporting you as you supported them?
How do you continue to support the dream of the person who let yours pass?

More importantly, how can you keep the weight of your failed dream from crushing your soul and the spirit of your relationship?