Last Friday we were able to see the neurologist and get the results from my daughter’s MRI.

The first thing people asked afterwards was, “How did it go?” which when you think about it is really a difficult question to answer in a situation like this. I sort of wish our family could have all been at the appointment and talked to the neurologist themselves.

In some ways I feel like some of the reactions we felt from others were more the reactions the neurologist expected from us. He kept asking how we were and at one point jokingly called us stoic. I didn’t feel stoic. I just felt calm and at peace.

There was really nothing he told us that was a surprise for us. We know Sage. We knew something wasn’t normal. We’d seen the print out from the MRI and we could understand enough to know that something was indeed wrong. We knew that she was already showing developmental delays mostly in the area of motor development. And we knew she qualified for and would benefit from early intervention services.

So how was the appointment? Well, it was confirmation of all the things we were already piecing together about Sage.

Here’s how it went…

We talked about what her brain looks like.

Sage has what they call bilateral perisylvian polymicrogyria. Which means that the areas on the sides of her brain (both sides) didn’t develop the way that they should have. You know when you see a drawing of the brain and there’s all those folds and creases, well, Sage’s brain has smaller more frequent folds on the sides. Along with some volume lose of both grey matter and white mater.

We talked about what this might mean for her future.

Here’s where I feel the appointment just confirmed things we already knew. Basically the doctor told us that she will have developmental delays and that they will most likely affect her motor skills and speech. But, he was also very clear that with babies we can never really tell predictively the exact track of future development because at this early age the brain is still very adaptable.

When a specific area of the brain is damaged in an adult they can predict pretty accurately what functionality will be affected. But, that’s not as true for babies. Their brains are still developing and functionality isn’t as hard wired to specific areas as it is in adults.

Basically, he could tell us a range of functionality by looking at the literature and telling us the range that other children with polymicrogyria function in. The doctor was very honest in telling us that because polymicrogyria is pretty rare and we got a last minute earlier appointment he hadn’t had a chance to thoroughly review all of the literature. So he said we could call him later this week to find out more.

The most important thing for us to realize at this point was that each baby is unique and only Sage will be able to tell us what she’s capable of and what she’s not.

We also talked about how because of this diagnosis Sage is at an increased risk for seizures. She may never have them, but there is an increased risk that we should be aware of. Bryan and I had some questions at this point since we had no experience with seizures. We talked about what to look for, and what to do if we notice something. We also talked about why seizures are problematic and what they do to treat them should she develop them some day in the future.

We talked about the possible causes of polymicrogyria.

Part of the reason for doing the MRI was that sometimes it can clue you in as to the cause of the problem. In Sage’s case it didn’t really.

Basically polymicrogyria can be caused by an injury (beyond my toddler crawling all over me, which the neurologists said would not have been the problem, I had no known injuries), or an infection (the TORCH blood test checks for the infections that usually cause this and Sage had that test already and the results didn’t show any signs of her having had those infections), or genetics.

Before doing the MRI we were told that Sage’s condition was most likely a genetic problem, after the MRI we are in the same position of continuing to assume that this is most likely a genetic issue for Sage.

We talked about what our next steps should be.

The doctor first recommended a swallow test since I had mentioned that Sage seems to choke a lot and since perisylvian polymicrogyria can effect the muscles of the mouth and the motor skills involved in swallowing and talking.

I am very curious to hear the results of the swallow test since I have always felt like Sage had some trouble nursing, but any time I’d asked anyone about it they looked at her latch and said her latch was great and assured me she was nursing fine. It was a little affirming to have someone say that her swallowing and the muscle tone in her mouth may be the issue.

He also recommended a hearing and vision test, since she hadn’t had a newborn hearing test. He said he wasn’t aware of perisylvian polymicrogyria being particularly connected with hearing or vision problems, but whenever there’s a problem with the brain there’s an increased chance of those problems. So, we will do both of these tests soon.

He also recommended that we see a geneticist. Which was reaffirming since we had already scheduled an appointment with Dr. William Dobyns, a geneticist and neurologist who is the leading expert on microcephaly in the nation.

We also talked through the pro’s and con’s of genetic testing. As much as I hate the thought of putting my sweet girl through another blood test, we do feel like we need to do the genetic testing. And we plan on doing it before we see Dobyns since we know how long it can take to get an appointment with him and we want to be able to give him as much information as possible.

The neurologist also confirmed for us again that early intervention was the best possible thing for us to do for Sage. She will definitely need the support and help of occupational therapists and speech therapists and others who have experience working with children with developmental delays.

Overall, the appointment went well. Not really better than we had anticipated, but also not worse than we had anticipated. It simply confirmed things.

I’ve been thankful that we’ve had time to ease into our new reality. I’ve even felt grateful that there has been such long gaps between doctors appointments. It’s been frustrating at times, but I think it’s also given us time to process and ease into each deeper diagnosis.

I am anxious for our appointment with Dobyns in July, but I am also glad that we have a few months before that appointment. There’s a lot Sage can tell us about who she is and who she’s going to be in those months.

I think I’m slowly coming to peace now with the fact that the doctors aren’t going to be able to take this away and “fix” my sweet Sage. There’s nothing to fix. She is who she is and who she’ll always be. The doctors can’t just give her a pill or do surgery and then have everything be “normal”. This isn’t something treatable. It isn’t something that’s going to just go away. It isn’t something she’s going to outgrow.

Last week I read the essay “Welcome to Holland” by Emily Kingsley. It was a really helpful picture for me. In it Kingsley writes about what it’s like to have a child with special needs. She says,

“I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this……
When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”
“Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”
But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…. and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills….and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.”

I think even though I was doing pretty well with Sage’s diagnosis I still in the back of my head thought “well, yes, I’m in Holland, but I’m not staying in Holland. I’m just passing through.” But, the past week or two I’ve started to come to terms with the fact that, at least for my little family, there are no flights leaving Holland. This is our reality. This is who Sage is and it is now who I am as well. I am the mother of a special needs child. It is and will be my reality. God has brought us to Holland and it is in Holland that he will come to us and walk with us.

All that is not to say that there aren’t things we can do. Yes, there is nothing we can do that will just take this away from Sage, but there are things we can do that can help her to reach her full potential. There are opportunities we can give her that can give her the best possible advantage. And so, we’ll keep doing therapy with her, and looking into different types of therapies. And we’ll give her healthy bouts of stimulation, and play Lots of music for her. And I’ll breastfeed long term and make sure she gets lots of healthy fats in her diet. And we’ll take each day and each year as they come, listening and learning who Sage is as we go. And we’ll see where she takes us.

And isn’t that all any of us can do for our children? Listen and learn and see where they take us?

Rejoicing in the journey,

Bethany Stedman

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Sage isn’t doing any of the things my son was doing at six months old. In fact she’s not doing some of the things he was doing at three months old. When I focus on that, or the microcephaly, or the appointments with neurologists, or all the many unknowns and what-ifs, it’s easy to freak myself out and get overwhelmed. And then this thought comes to me…

The unknown is a GIFT.

Uncertainty teaches us to be present in the moment.

When you walk in darkness, you have to be present and extra aware of each step you take and each step forward becomes something to be celebrated. That’s a little how I feel today.

We have no idea what Sage’s functioning is going to be ten years from now or even six months from now. We still don’t even have a complete diagnosis yet. That lack of knowledge is frustrating at times, it raises fears that may (or may not) be needless, but it also gives us a heightened awareness of each step in her development.

With my son developmental changes happened so seamlessly and quickly that I regularly didn’t even notice them happening. For example, I have no idea when my son found his knees and feet, both of these things probably happened around the same time with out much awareness from me. But, with Sage it’s not like that. With Sage everything is slowed down. I know that she started to “find” her knees and hold them bent in the air about a week and a half ago, but hasn’t found her feet with her hands yet.

Yesterday Sage had her first early intervention therapy session. For me, it was an amazing, truly a beautiful experience. Our FRC (family resource coordinator) taught us a few different ways to position Sage to give her the best advantage and help her to work on both flexion and extension. It was amazing to see how Sage’s little body responded to these minor adjustments and suggestions. She reached for things and grabbed at things more than I have ever seen her do before. Our FRC also did a little gentle acupressure/massage on her and it was beautiful to see how quickly my little hypertension baby responded and relaxed.

Little changes, the most minuscule of milestones, are noticed now. I have to live in this day and celebrate what she can do today, because her future development is still so uncertain. And so each time I am tempted to freak out over the unclear horizon I look at my little girl again, because when I really look at her and she looks back at me with her trusting smile, we are just mother and daughter in this moment, this day. The microcephaly melts away, the uncertainty disappears and all I’m aware of are the triumphs of that day, the little things she did today, which for her, aren’t little at all.

Having a daughter with special needs is bringing a new slowness and awareness to my parenting. And I hope that walking through this will teach me a new slowness and a heightened awareness for all areas of my life.

Rejoicing in the journey,

Bethany Stedman

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My daughter was diagnosed with microcephaly three months ago at her two month well check. Ever since then we have felt extremely unsure about what this would mean for her and for us and what we could do to help her. This week I feel like we began to get some answers, not answers about the future (diagnosis’s, predictions, etc), but answers about the present. We began to get the support that will help us know how to best help our daughter grow and flourish on a day-to-day basis. And (as we’re slowly realizing) those are the answers that really matter.

The whole world of early intervention and special needs services is completely foreign to me and I felt so nervous and unsure as we took our first floundering steps into this new realm. But, once we actually met with our Family Resource Coordinator I felt so relieved and encouraged and grateful that we had been directed to get this help now while Sage is still so young.

The organization that offers early intervention services for birth to age three in our area is called The Little Red School House. They send an occupational therapist to evaluate Sage and meet with us last week. Because we already had a diagnosis of microcephaly Sage automatically qualified for the program and from what I understand the evaluation was more for determining where she’s at developmentally. The whole thing was so much more comfortable and encouraging than I had anticipated. As we had been warned, there was a lot of paper work to do, but most of the time was spend just talking about Sage.

I really liked the approach that The Little Red School House takes to equip and support the parents, believing that the parents know the child best and are in the best position to help the child. I also liked that they don’t want to inundate the families with tons of appointments and lots of different specialists, instead they have one person (our Family Resources Coordinator) who will meet with us regularly (as regularly as we need). And then if their are questions or problems that are better suited for a specific specialist she can take those to her team of specialists at the school house and have them instruct her or if necessary bring them in to work with Sage. I liked that approach a lot, it seemed much less invasive or overwhelming.

I also felt a huge sigh of relief to learn that our FRC is able to offer some alternative remedies and has not only been working in occupational therapy for about thirty years, but also studied massage and acupressure. She said not all of her families want to utilize alternative options, but she wanted us to know about some of the different alternative remedies she could offer. Obviously I am very interested in alternative medicine and some of the therapies she talked about sounded fascinating. For example there was one she talked about where they use a tuning fork and different pitches that corespondent to different meridian lines (like in acupuncture – but without the needles), can’t remember what it’s called though.

Anyway, the whole experience was really positive and encouraging and I’m really looking forward to the support that this organization will be able to offer my sweet little girl over the next three years. Our next meeting will be next week and it’s when we will create our Individualized Family Service Plan (IFSP), which from what I understand is essentially a document stating our desire for Sage over the coming year and a plan to achieve it and what services will help us get there.

I’m excited to start this journey into early intervention. It feels good to know that there are things we can do and tools we can utilize that could help Sage. And it feels good that we won’t have to go at it alone. Someone will guide us through the process from here and help lead us to the best resources for the specific special needs of our baby.

I’m feeling very grateful for these things today.

Rejoicing in the journey,

Bethany Stedman

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Our pediatrician recommended blood tests and an MRI to try and determine the cause and extent of the issue. So far the blood work has all come back normal and we have yet to do the MRI. We’ve also seen a neurologist and been referred to a geneticist. As we’ve learned a little more though, it seems likely that we will never know a cause or, in advance, how it might effect her. It also seems likely that she will have some developmental delays of some sort. They could be mild delays or severe delays, they may show up right away or not for a while, and at this point it seems we have no way of knowing.

I honestly feel weird writing about it, since I don’t feel like we really know anything. All we really know is that she’s measuring at 2.4 deviations and that there’s a good chance she will have some developmental delays, although there’s also a chance she could grow up without any noticeable delays at all. We just don’t know.

In some ways I’ve been really thankful that we found this out right in the middle of a move, when there’s lots to do and not much opportunity to stop and think. The little research I’ve been able to do has made me realize that maybe its better for my psyche if I don’t do any at all. It’s hard to feel so helpless, though, and to live with this constant unknown.

I love my little girl so much. We bonded so much more quickly than I did with my son. I look at her and my heart melts. I can’t imagine my life without her and have already sort of forgotten what life was like before she was born. I want her to have a wonderful and full life. I don’t want her quality of life to be diminished because of this. I don’t want her life to be more difficult because of this. It breaks my heart to think of all of the what-ifs and how this may affect her over time.

And then she locks eyes with me and smiles and I know that whatever comes we are going to be ok. My beautiful little girl will always be my beautiful little girl. And I feel ready to face whatever comes, together, as a family.

Rejoicing in the journey –
Bethany Stedman

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Last weekend we prayed through this liturgy with a small group of people and today I wanted to share it with all of you.

Blessing for Sage Eleanor Stedman

Celebrant:
“The blessing of Christ comes to you in this child.
His blessing is mercy and kindness and joy.
Blessing comes to home and to family.”

Celebrants together:
Joy come to you through this child.

Mother and father together:
Joy come to all through this gift.

Mother:
Begotten through love she is birthed into loving arms.
Shaped in darkness she comes forth in light.
Formed in secret she is fully known.

Celebrant:
May She smile with the light of the sun.

Celebrant:
May She dance to the song of the stars.

Celebrant:
May She move with the grace of the moon.

Father:
She is light, joy, and wisdom.

Celebrant:
Light shines on the righteous
and joy on the upright in heart. Psalm 97:11

Grandmother:
God’s light shine on you, child.

Father and Mother:
We bless you, sweet daughter.

Father:
I bless you, my daughter, may you laugh joyfully with the sun.
As the warmth of the sun Brings health, growth, energy, and delight to all those who bath in it’s rays,
may you bring healing to the hurting,
inspire growth in the floundering,
lend energy to the weak,
and bring delight to all those who meet you.

Mother:
May your judgement be unclouded, your intuition vivid, your contemplations enlightened.

Celebrant:
Joy of salvation be upon you.

Celebrant:
With joy you will draw water
from the wells of salvation. Isaiah 12:3

Father and mother:
We bless you, loved child.

Mother:
I bless you, my daughter, May you dance lightly with the stars.
As a stars light only reaches it’s full potential when combined with the light of others,
may you always surround yourself with others who shine of light and love and equality.

Father:
May you be open and inviting towards all you meet, welcoming all into your heart with a gentle and contagious joy.

Celebrant:
The light of Gods presence be upon you.

Celebrant:
Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you,
who walk in the light of your presence, LORD.
They rejoice in your name all day long;
they celebrate your righteousness. Psalm 89:15-16

Father and mother:
We bless you, precious gift.

Father:
I bless you, my daughter, may you sing wisely with the moon.
As the light of the full moon is luminous, reflective, and far seeing,
may you be luminous with a subtle yet radiant beauty,
insightful and keen to pick up on things that are missed by others,
and far seeing in your ability to comprehend and understand that which is beyond comprehension.

Mother:
May you be wise beyond your years and joyful beyond your circumstances.

Celebrant:
Wisdom of heaven be upon you.

Celebrant:
The law of the LORD is perfect,
refreshing the soul.
The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy,
making wise the simple.
The precepts of the LORD are right,
giving joy to the heart.
The commands of the LORD are radiant,
giving light to the eyes. Psalm 19:7-8

Father and mother:
We ask that Gods blessing be upon this child and His loving arms always around her.

Grandfather:
How priceless is your unfailing love, O God!
People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
They feast on the abundance of your house;
you give them drink from your river of delights.
For with you is the fountain of life;
in your light we see light.
Continue your love to those who know you,
your righteousness to the upright in heart.
May the foot of the proud not come against [this little one],
nor the hand of the wicked drive [her] away. Psalm 36:7-11

Father and Mother together:
We lift up this child to you, Lord.
We recognize that she is your gift to us and that we are only stewards of her.

Grandparents:
“The blessing of Christ comes to you in this child.
His blessing is mercy and kindness and joy.
Blessing comes to home and to family.”

Father and mother:
We lift up this child to you, Lord.
And give her the name Sage Eleanor Stedman
And pray that she would live up to the meanings and significances of her name.

Father:
Sage means wise, prophet, and aromatic herb. We ask that God fill this child with wisdom. That she would be prophetic, and insightful. We also ask that she would be a sweet fragrance going up to the throne of grace. That she would be an aromatic blessing of joy and comfort for all who come in contact with her.

Mother:
Eleanor means light, or one who is bright, or God is my light. We ask That Gods light would fill and radiate out of this beautiful little girl. May she be a shining beacon of light amidst a world that can at times seem dark and disheartening. Eleanor also has another meaning. In Greek it can mean pity. You are not a pity, my daughter, and it is not a pity that you have entered our family. But, we do claim this as part of your name in a very specific manor. We pray that you would take pity, compassion, on all those who live in the darkness of hurt, anger, and discouragement, and that you would bring light and joy into their pain.

Celebrants together:
Welcome, Sage Eleanor Stedman,
child of love.
We welcome you with open arms and hearts of love.

(Open prayers for baby – whoever wants to can pray as they feel led)

Father:
Gods favor be upon you, daughter.

Celebrants together:
Gods favor be upon us all.
Amen.

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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I felt weak, scared and tired. I didn’t feel like “one tough mamma.” Shell kept saying, “you’re so strong.” But, I didn’t believe her, I couldn’t believe her. I didn’t feel strong. I felt weak, in fact I felt all of the weaknesses and inadequacies that I’d wrestled with ever since becoming a mother two years ago come rushing over me. I felt like I couldn’t do it… and so I couldn’t. I didn’t really want to push her out. I was scared of feeling “that pain” again. I was scared of bleeding too much (as I had with Thaddeus). I was scared that she would be just as difficult as Thad was and scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle having two kids. I was scared that the pain was going to continue forever and just wanted it to be over, but I didn’t want to go through the only door that would make the pain stop.

Finally, I muttered out something about feeling discouraged. Shell decided to do an internal to see what was going on. I remember her putting her fingers against my coccyx on the inside and telling me that was where the baby needed to go, that I needed to push the baby into that space. I knew she was right and I tried to do what she was asking, but it was a half hearted attempt. As soon as she had touched that area I was flooded with the muscle memory of Thad’s birth, I remembered that spot and the pain it took to push Thad past it (Thad had gotten stuck at my coccyx since it hadn’t moved out of the way like it should have, Shell had to pull it out of the way and we are pretty sure I either broke or bruised it during that labor). The memory of that felt so tangible and I couldn’t bring myself to push past it.

It was at this point that Shell suggested we do something she called “the rotisserie” and took a moment to describe it to us. Basically the laboring women lays on her back for a contraction or two pushing her lower back into the floor then turns to lay on her side with her top leg bent and bottom leg relatively stretched out for a contraction or two and then on hands and knees for a contraction or two and then on the other side for a contraction or two and then back to her back for a contraction or two.

We did two rotations this way. I have never known pain like that. It was beyond intense, it was unbearable. I remember kind of hating Shell in that moment for making me do this. Normally I deal with contractions with a fair amount of movement so having to be in one position the whole contraction was excruciating and the fact that most of those positions were not comfortable positions for me made it extra hard.

During my last rotation Shell turned the water on in the bath and started filling it up, I can’t really explain the feeling I felt when I heard that tub turn on. On the one hand I was sort of ecstatic thinking that the end of the rotisserie must be soon and imagining how nice the water would feel. I spent almost all of my labor with Thad in the tub and felt such relief from that. Earlier in labor the tub had come up – I think my sister asked if I was going to use it – and I hesitated and didn’t really know how to answer. Shell said something about how it seemed I wanted to see which came first if I reached my breaking point or if the baby came. I remember thinking she was exactly right.

As I did that rotisserie and heard the tub filling up I knew I had reached my breaking point and it was time for the tub – really I felt like I had reached my breaking point long before this and was just so far past the breaking point as to be completely desperate by this time. I was also angry as the tub filled up though, because I just wanted to get in it right then, and Shell asked me to do another set on my back and on my side – I remember feeling really angry in that moment. I didn’t want to do any more. I wanted to get in the tub. I didn’t think I was capable of doing any more – I was already broken into pieces, there wasn’t any strength left. But, then I did it. When I thought that I was completely unable to, when I thought I had no strength left, when I thought I was already broken as far as I could be…I did it. I broke more. And even without strength I pressed through…screamed through, but made it.

When I finally got in the tub it was such a relief, but things were still moving pretty fast and intense. I remember the water felt like it was really cold to me, even though Shell and Bryan kept telling me that it was plenty warm. I shivered and turned on the hot anyway.

By this point I really wanted it over. I pushed a bit in the tub, but quickly felt like I had to pooh. I got out and went to the toilet. I poohed a little and worked through a contraction on the toilet and then it hit… My bottom split open – or at least that’s what it felt like. I jumped off the toilet and cried out “she’s coming!” Bryan had just then gone to get me more water, so Shell hollered for him to come back and he was there a second later. It was then that I really started to push.

I reached up to feel the head as I had with Thaddeus. It felt so different, so smooth, I was a little freaked out at first. It wasn’t until later that I realized what I was feeling wasn’t exactly the head – it was the head still wrapped in the membranes since my waters hadn’t broken yet.

I squatted in a sort of half kneeling half squatting position and pushed, Shell and Bryan pushed in on my hips from either side. I pushed more. There was a popping feeling and sound as my waters broke. It was 3:22am. I pushed more and reached down (Shell said I actually pushed her hands out of the way, but I don’t totally remember that) what I do remember is Bryan and I together catching our beautiful little girl. She was born at 3:25am on labor day, September 5th. She had her hand up by her ear and her chin tilted up instead of tucked down, which explained some of why the pain had been so intense.

I laid her down on the floor in front of me and waited a minute or two till I was feeling like I was back in my body and ready to pick her up. I held her for a moment, but felt pretty shaky and laid her back down in front of me as Shell gave me a shot of pitocin (we had decided to do pitocin right away after the birth since we had some concerns about hemorrhaging). Shell also gave me a drink of Chinese herbs after the shot.

After the cord had stopped pulsating we cut the cord. I remember asking Shell about waiting till I delivered the placenta and having her tell me with a little bit of urgency in her voice that she wanted to get it cut and me laying down. She showed me the cord then and it had clearly stopped pulsating so Bryan went ahead and cut it. Shell then had me lay down with the baby on my chest/belly. Bryan and Shell both kept telling me to look at them and keep my eyes open, which I remember being really annoyed with because I thought I felt fine… just tired. I remember thinking, “It’s all over now so why can’t I just rest for a second?” I also remember feeling a lot of pressure from the placenta and feeling so relieved when it was delivered. Shell said something about it coming out a different way from normal, something about how placentas coming out that way are more commonly low laying in the uterus.

Bryan was asking me what song was playing on the playlist, it was A Thankful Heart, which was the first song that had played from the playlist back at the beginning of my labor. He kept telling me to keep my eyes open and I still felt annoyed. By this point I couldn’t stop shaking, which is not uncommon for women after birth. Shell gave me some oxygen and kept asking “are you with us? Bethany! Look at me.” I guess I must have looked much worse than I felt.

Shell checked me out and told us my bleeding was really light (a big relief), she also told us I didn’t need any stitches (of course that was also a relief). I think she checked my heart rate and blood pressure as well and all was normal. She told us that physically I was perfectly fine. Nothing was wrong with me. But, she and Bryan still seemed worried about me and wouldn’t let me close my eyes. For the next little bit they seemed to focus on keeping me from passing out. Bryan brought me a couple of spoonfuls of raw honey and that seemed to really help. Once I started to feel a bit better I really wanted to sit up since my back hurt and I still felt pressure while laying on it.

I sat up, leaning against the bathroom cabinets and held Sage. It was the first time I really truly looked at her. Bryan sat next to me and we both just stared at her. It was a really sweet moment for all of us and I was glad that we were able to enjoy that time for a little while. I nursed Sage a little, but she wasn’t all that interested. I remember Shell telling us that the song that had been playing when Sage was born was “Hey Jude” – I hadn’t even noticed.

After a bit, Shell took Sage to look her over and weight her. It was about then that Brie came in carrying Thaddeus. Thad cuddled up to me and together, with Bryan next to us, we all watched as Shell checked Sage out.

She weighed 5 pounds 15 ounces and was 18.5 inches long. Shell guessed by her reflexes and size that she was actually about 38.5 weeks gestation (we had already been speculating that my original estimated due date was wrong and this confirmed it). She was a tiny little one, but healthy and strong with the most beautiful rudy coloring.

After Shell was done I got cleaned up and crawled into bed with Sage. Shell took a short nap before checking us out again and heading home to get some rest. Bryan got Thad breakfast and played with him. And thus began our very long first day as a family of four.

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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I remember crying at the library. I checked email on the ipad while there and I got a really sweet and encouraging message from my friend, Melissa. In a moment when I was feeling especially discouraged about still being pregnant (I was a week past my estimated due date) she told me she was proud of me and wrote this “So today, instead of saying when is this baby going to get here?! I want you to say ‘I am one tough mama, I can handle this!! I can be patient for nature. Not everyone does this and I am proud of myself for waiting it out!!’ and give yourself a nice pat on the back. Or just pat your belly if that is easier.” It made me smile and then cry. And it made me feel a little better too. Little did I know how much I would need to hear, and remember her words that I was one tough momma in the hours to come.

My labor really got started Sunday evening around 6pm. I’d been having contractions steadily all afternoon, but they weren’t really labor contractions, they were just the same tightening feeling that I’d been having since I was about 20 weeks pregnant. But, around 6pm things changed, these contractions were different, they felt like labor. Suddenly as I felt them I remembered, really remembered, my first birth in a whole new way.

I continued having regular labor contractions as I made dinner and put Thaddeus to bed. When a contraction would hit I’d just lean over against the counter and do what I needed to do to deal with it and then go back to making dinner. We had a broccoli and green bean pasta for dinner. Bryan and I split a beer and toasted to the baby being born soon.

Dealing with the contractions got a little harder while putting Thad to sleep as they got more intense while I was nursing him. Thankfully he fell asleep quickly and I only had to work through two or three contractions while putting him to bed.

After Thad was asleep we called our midwife, Shell, and gave her a heads up about what was going on. Then I had some chocolate crème brûlée that my dad had made the night before and we tried to watch some tv. That didn’t last long.

It was getting later and things were moving along well so we started getting some stuff ready – moving birth supplies into the bedroom, changing the sheets on the bed, etc. We put on the playlist of songs I had made for the birth and danced our way through a few contractions. Shell called back to see how things were going and told us she was on her way. We called my sister and asked her to come be with Thad in case he woke up. We texted my mom (since we knew she was up any way because of the time difference in Cebu) and I sent off a quick email to some close friends who had agreed to pray with me throughout the last few weeks of pregnancy.

When Shell got here she started setting up her stuff, and helped me through a few contractions. Then we all moved out into the kitchen. Shell had one of dad’s crème brûlée’s and a coffee. Bryan and I had some tea and we all just sat and talked in-between contractions. Shell shared stories with us that made us laugh. (She really should write her memoirs some day – I know I would love to read that!)

Soon Brie arrived and joined us for a crème brûlée of her own and plenty of her own energy and talkativeness. The contractions at this point were difficult but manageable and Shell kept saying “I think you’ll be surprised. I think your farther along then you think you are.” which was of course an encouraging thing to hear.

After everyone had finished their desert and drinks we moved back into the bedroom and Shell did an internal exam – more for the opportunity to turn the baby since she was still posterior than to find out how dilated I was, but it was encouraging when she told us that my cervix was dilated to a five on it’s own but could easily stretch to an eight. My sister asked something about how much longer Shell thought it would be and Shell said something to the extent of it being up to me, that my cervix wasn’t really the issue, and it would quickly open and stretch as it needed to once I was ready and about how it was going to be more about me being ready and not afraid to push…or something like that. It was getting harder for me to concentrate at this point.

After I was checked Brie and Bryan started laying down the plastic floor covering stuff that we got to protect the carpet (my dad was worried we’d ruin the carpet in his bathroom again, like we had when my son was born). The stuff we got this time had adhesive on one side so it actually stuck to the carpet and didn’t slide around. It worked really well. My sister got really into the job of covering the carpet and even made a little “run way” from where I was laboring on the floor in the bedroom to the bathroom. It even had an arrow in the middle made out of duct tape. We all got a little chuckle out of it.

It was nice to laugh during labor – my labor with Thaddeus had been really, intense and heavy and even contemplative. Up to this point in my labor with Sage things were much lighter, more relaxed, and I felt much more present and grounded.

Once we moved into the bathroom with everything all set up I hit what I’m going to call the peeing stage of my labor. By this point the baby was very low in my pelvis and putting a lot of pressure on my bladder. For a while this was the pattern that was my reality – have a contraction, go to the toilet and pee, come back out, feel thirsty and have something to drink, have another contraction, get up again to pee, again have something to drink. It went on like this with me peeing about every two minutes for quite a while.

Then things slowed down a bit. I remember my sister asking numerous times “what are we waiting for?” and looking at her phone. I remember her asking Shell how much longer she thought it would be and how far along she thought I was now. I didn’t realize it at first but her anxiety and desire for it to be over started rubbing off on me. I was the one who really wanted it to be over, I was the one working through the pain every few minutes! My stress level rose.

I remember telling them that I felt a lot of pressure (which isn’t surprising since the baby was very low by now) and that I kind of wanted to push but didn’t really feel ready. Shell told me if I wanted to push I could try and that if I wasn’t ready it wouldn’t really do anything. For the next few contractions I pushed. Shell listened to the babies heart rate, which sounded great. The pushing felt nice with the contractions, but it didn’t really do anything.

I started to feel discouraged as Brie asked again “what are we waiting for”. There started to be longer distances between contractions. I remember during a particularly long break between contractions I thought to myself “you need to ask brie to leave” it was clear as day and I knew it was what I needed for everything to pick back up again. But I wrestled with telling her for what felt like a mini-eternity. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, I knew she had said she really wanted to be at the birth. I had planned on having her video the birth and take pictures (as long as Thad didn’t wake up), since I was always a little sad that I didn’t have video/pictures of Thad’s birth. Would brie take it the wrong way, or would she understand? I struggled with these things for a while, but I knew I had to ask her to leave. So, I asked her to go, and she did, and pretty much immediately things picked up again.

…. check back tomorrow for the rest of the story…

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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I have to admit that even when I first realized that this was an option instead of formula I still felt a little strange about it. I mean I thought it was great and definitely supported women milk sharing, but when I thought about someone else nursing my child or giving my child someone else’s breast milk, well, then I felt a little strange about it. It felt a bit weird to me. I remember when my son was just a few months old talking with a friend about it and about how we would feel having someone else nurse our baby, or giving our baby someone else’s milk. I remember thinking that donor milk is probably the choice I would make if I ever needed to supplement for some reason, but I also remember thinking that I would probably feel a little uncomfortable about it.

But, when I actually had the opportunity to experience another women nursing my baby I felt none of the discomfort that I thought I would feel. In fact it felt like the most natural, normal thing in the world. You see when my daughter was born just three weeks ago she struggled with weight gain. When she was just three days old she had lost 12% of her birth weight and weighed only 5 pounds 2 ounces. Our midwife recommended supplementing with donor milk if my milk didn’t come in by that night. Well, it didn’t (in fact my milk didn’t come in until late in the day on day five). So, I called a friend and she came over right away with some frozen breast milk for us. While she was here she nursed baby Sage. Instead of feeling uncomfortable, I felt relieved and grateful, loved and cared for by a friend and fellow mommy. This simple act, that cost my friend very little, made me feel truly supported during the fragile first days that are the postpartum experience. I will always remember her generosity with gratitude and deep thankfulness.

I think the fact that I hadn’t really heard of milk sharing as a viable option for supplementation until about two years ago, and the fact that I at first felt an underlying sense of discomfort in the idea, even though I support it theoretically, just goes to show what a great job formula companies have done convincing us that their way is normal and best, instead of the more natural way that women have been dealing with things for centuries, through sisters and aunts and friends sharing the breast milk they had in a abundance with those who needed it.

That is why i think events like world milk sharing week are so important. We need women to speak out and help normalize milk sharing so that mothers recognize donor milk as an option for supplementation. So that no women thinks that formula is her ONLY choice. And we need women to talk about their own experience with milk sharing so

that we can begin to normalize societal feelings about milk sharing. I will never forget my own personal experience with donor milk and milk sharing and how significant and helpful it was for me and my daughter. I am so glad that I called that friend and didn’t let my discomfort in asking her to help me, or my uncertainty about how I would feel about it, get in the way. It was truly a beautiful gift that she gave my daughter and I am nothing but grateful.

Rejoicing in the journey -

Bethany Stedman

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Connected Mom writes this beautiful post about Four Lies Sleep Trainers Tell You (And One Truth They Won’t!)

If you’ve ever struggled with a baby who just won’t sleep the way “they” tell you that your baby “should”, well, I encourage you to read this post.

I want to close by sharing a poem that Connect Mom shared at the end of her post. I thought this was absolutely beautiful, and inspiring, and SO encouraging! This is for all you mama’s out there who, like me, continue to struggle through sleep deprivation.

Selflessness

Everything which endures can

only do so because Eternal

Consciousness gives it a sentience.

A mother who gives herself

completely to her infant meets

herself in the dark and finds

fulfillment.

In the hours between midnight

and dawn, she crosses the

threshold of self-concern and

discovers a Self that has no limits.

A wise mother meets this

Presence with humility and steps

through time into selflessness.

Infants know when their mothers

have done this, and they

become peaceful.

Who, then, is the doer? Is it the

infant who brings its mother

through the veil of self-concern

into limitlessness? Is it the

mother, who chooses to hold

sacred her infant’s needs and

surrender herself? Or is it the

One, which weaves them both

through a spiraling path

toward wholeness?

You can sit and meditate while

your baby cries himself to sleep.

Or you can go to him and share

his tears, and find your Self.

By Vimala McClure, from The Tao of Motherhood

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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This week is International Babywearing Week. Happy Babywearing, friends!!

Check out these links for more information about babywearing and International Babywearing Week:

Code Name: Mama writes a great overview about babywearing and International Babywearing Week.

Here is a Scientific paper written by Dr. Mara Blois all about the benefits of babywearing.

When the Watchdog Goes Awry: The CPSC’s Misguided Assault on Slings is a helpful article explaining the CPSC’s recall of sling baby carriers.

This post gives great information on babywearing safety and also wonderfully helpful recommendations on which baby carriers are best.

Rejoicing in the journey -
Bethany Stedman

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