Trying To Make Sense Of It All

Last Wednesday morning, at about 1:30 a.m. or so, I had a seizure.

For the first time in my life, I was carried away in an ambulance, and for the first time in my life, other than giving birth to my children, I was admitted to the hospital.

I am still trying to process the events, and of course, we are still trying to determine the cause of the seizure.  We MIGHT know, but we also might never know for sure.  We also have an appointment next week with a neurologist, so hopefully he can help shed some light on things.

The last thing I remember was feeding Silas at about 12:30, going to the bathroom, and checking on Caleb.  I went back to bed.  Brian woke up at about 1:30 to the sound of me falling out of the bed. Now, if you know Brian, it is somewhat of a miracle that he woke up.  I always joke that he could sleep through the second coming.  He's a heavy sleeper, and in the past, if Caleb cried in the middle of the night, it was always me that heard him, and not Brian.

He ran over to me, and he found my head stuck between the night table and the bed.  I am sure I can't tell this part of the story as he could since I was completely out of it, but he did get me out of there.  I have no recollection of any of this, but apparently I tried climbing back into bed again.  I was also clawing at him at one point, too.

Brian ran for the phone and called 911.  They told him to keep me still, but I guess I wasn't having it, and I was determined to get into bed and get the covers on myself.  Meanwhile, Brian was trying to keep me away from Silas.  Sometimes Silas will cry or fuss when I try returning him to his bassinet after a feeding, so I might bring him into bed with me.  He sleeps like a dream next to me, but in this instance, in my foggy state, I had no idea what I was doing.  Thank goodness he was okay!

I was completely incoherent.  I remember "waking up" to find Brian and one of the paramedic ladies hovered over me, shouting at me and trying to wake me up.  I was totally startled, and not to mention scared, to be woken up in such a way.  I was totally and completely confused.  They began to tell me what happened, and I saw Silas right next to me on the bed, but I couldn't even remember Caleb.  I guess the paramedic asked me if Silas was my firstborn and I said, "Yes."  It took a few minutes for the fog to lift, and then I could indeed, remember Caleb, too.

I got pretty banged up during my fall out of bed.  My lip was bleeding, my chin scraped, and my arm started to bruise.  However, I was doing okay.  We talked about heading to the hospital.  They asked Brian which one they wanted to bring me to, and since we've only had experience at one, where I delivered both our boys, he chose that one.  Even in my haze, I managed to find my engagement ring, which I always take off at bed time because I don't like to sleep with it, and a sweatshirt.  I dreaded leaving the house in my pajamas, but I really didn't have a choice.  I remember feeling torn because it was the first time I would be separated from Silas, and it made me nervous in case he got hungry. Since there was nothing to be done about it, I tried not to worry.  I walked out to the ambulance, while Brian proceeded to get the boys ready for the trek to the hospital on his own.

My ride to the hospital was calm.  The paramedics team chatted casually with each other and sometimes with me.  The ambulance lights were blaring, but no sirens were necessary.  I was delivered to the hospital, given a room in the ER, and they got to work trying to figure out what was wrong with me.  I was anxious for Brian's arrival with the boys.

After a time, he showed up, and I was relieved.  I was happy to be reunited with Silas, because I didn't want him to go hungry.  The long car ride continued to have its effect on him, and he stayed asleep for a while in his car seat.

My urine had been collected and my blood drawn, and they determined that I had a urinary tract infection, which is something I already knew.  I had been trying to treat it at home by myself with a supplement that is pretty well-known as a uti treatment (just google d-mannose and you'll see what I mean).  The levels of phosphorous in my blood were also found to be low.  A doctor came to see me, saying that I would have to be transferred to another hospital because this one didn't have a neurologist.  He also informed me that he had researched the d-mannose, and he found that it can lower phosphorous levels, and low phosphorous can lead to seizures.  Was this the answer, or something else?

I was put into an ambulance for the second time, and separated from Brian and the boys once again. (I made sure to feed Silas before we parted ways!)  Brian once again got the boys loaded up for their second trip.  I was brought to the second hospital and sent to a room, and again I awaited the arrival of my men.

Meanwhile, Brian had called his mom to come down and help, so she headed to the first hospital. Brian had left instructions for her to head to the second hospital, and she was informed when she arrived that we had already left.  Thank goodness she has GPS!

Brian's mom arrived and it was good to have some help with the boys, but we decided to see how the day would before we let the boys go.  After all, I really didn't want to stay overnight.  I am nursing Silas, and they informed me that he wouldn't be allowed to stay with me if I was admitted overnight.  That just wouldn't do.  It is one thing if it is an emergency, but I was feeling fine, and I wanted to be with my son.  Just in case, they brought a lactation consultant to meet with me to show me how to pump my milk in case I had to send the milk home with Silas, but fortunately, the hospital was good enough to let me go home.  They ordered me an MRI and an EEG, and they got an antibiotic for my uti.  I developed a splitting headache after the MRI, and had to beg for some painkillers.  (Why does it take them so long to get it?)  Since no one was sure if the d-mannose had anything to do with my seizure, they told me to stop taking it.  I was told I could not drive for six months, and I had to schedule an appointment with a neurologist within a week.

I was finally able to leave the hospital at about 6 or 6:30.  Caleb, Silas, and I were all still in our pajamas.  (No big deal for Silas, though!)  I looked like a fright, because the EEG required all sorts of things to be stuck to my hair, and I pretty much could have been the bride of Frankenstein.

I was so relieved to be able to go home, and that I didn't need to be away from Silas.  On Thursday, Brian went back to work for half the day, and I had Brian's mom with me to help out.  She stayed through Friday morning, and I remember that the minute she left, I felt all sorts of fear.  It was the first time I was alone since my seizure.  What if I had another?  What if I had a seizure and hurt my boys?  I had done some research and found out that postpartum seizures were not uncommon.  Being sleep-deprived is another cause of seizures, and I am indeed that with a month old baby to nurse at night!

I was happy to have Brian home for the weekend, and so happy to not be alone again, but it was hard to let him go this morning!  It's like all the sudden I don't trust myself to care for my own boys.

I'm trying to cling to the Lord during this time as we await our appointment with the neurologist, where we will hopefully get some answers.  (Though, not necessarily.  My sister had a seizure when she was 13, and they never found the cause.)

For now, I am trying to cling to the Lord in spite of my fears.  This is a hard time, for sure.  I feel lonelier than ever, stuck in the house, trapped, and overall just scared.

This is my arm 4 days after the fall.

Silas: One Month

Dear Silas,

These weeks have flown by!  I can't believe you are one month old already!  No longer can I call you a newborn because you have officially graduated into big boy territory!

Our house is so much richer and fuller now that you are here.  It took your brother a few weeks, but he is now giving you kisses and trying to stroke your head whenever he can.  I hold my breath a bit, because Caleb is rather rough around the edges.  He did manage to throw a Mega Blok that landed directly on your face today.  You cried, and I was near tears myself.

You love to sleep next to me.  I don't plan it that way, and you certainly sleep in your bassinet, too, but sometimes we both fall asleep while you are nursing.  Sometimes, like last night, you were so fussy (and I was exhausted) that I gave up and just brought you to bed with me.  You seem so content to be nestled near me.  While it is beautiful, and in theory I like it, I don't always like the crick in my neck that comes as a result.  But you are worth it.

You are absolutely beautiful.  Your blue eyes are so alert, and you love to watch whoever is in front of you.  I believe you recognize me, because you sort of give me a look that says, or at least I interpret it to say, "Oh, it's you.  I know you.  I am at home with you.  I am safe with you."

You are a grunter.  Such a noisy baby you are!  Any sort of discomfort is dealt with and communicated in a grunt.  Whether you have spit up that is working its way up, you need to burp, or you are trying to do #2, you are grunting.  You are also fussy!  There are times I truly don't know what to do with you.  You can be unhappy being held, walked around, rocked in the chair, etc. During the day, nursing is your number one comfort, and the second is your swing.  In the evening, you are almost inconsolable.  It is all I can do to take a quick shower.  Daddy watches you, but nothing usually works to calm you, and he happily turns you over to me so I can nurse you.

Nursing has been an issue for us.  You have nursed in quick sessions since birth, but with more frequency than normal.  I worried about you for the first couple of weeks, terrified that you were not eating enough, and after a trip to the doctor's confirmed you were indeed gaining weight, I finally relaxed.  I'm still not sure why you nurse in so many frequent, short sessions, but I have accepted that this is just your way for right now.  As long as you are healthy, that is my main concern.

Your Daddy and I love you.  We look forward to watching you grow and interact with your big brother.  No doubt, we'll have our hands full with the two of you!  I often gaze at you and wonder just what your personality will be.   I can't wait to find out!

Silas, welcome to our family, our home, and our hearts.  We love you!

Love always,
Your mama

Me, Lord?

Back in March, we found out our baby's gender.  I wrote on this blog about how we both wanted a girl.  We already had one boy, and I went into this last pregnancy thinking this was absolutely the last baby we were having.  After all, I am getting older, and I don't want to be a grandmother to my own children.  I have always dreamed of having a girl of my own- someone to read Anne of Green Gables and Little House on the Prairie books with, and when she's older, someone with whom to share my love of Jane Austen.  Brian and I have a name picked out from Caleb's pregnancy, since we didn't know what we were having.  We often refer to her by her name, as if she is a person who is meant to be here, but just isn't in existence yet.  Sometimes I'll say aloud, "I wonder if we'll ever have our _____  _____."

When we purchased this house, we knew we were making a bit of a sacrifice.  We had been turning down homes that were only two bedroom, thinking that we wanted three bedrooms, one for us, and two for our children if we had a boy and a girl.  This house was in great shape, and such a good deal, that we decided to go ahead and get it anyway.  I remember clearly thinking, "Oh, well.  Maybe we'll have two girls.  Then they can share the bedroom."  I also thought that if we did have a boy and a girl they could share the room when they were small.

I was so convinced I was meant to have a girl, that I was sort of stupefied when the ultrasound technician declared we were having a second boy.  This was the whole reason we wanted to know the gender in advance.  If we were to have a boy, I didn't want any disappointment in the delivery room. I didn't want to build up such strong hopes of having a girl, bursting with anticipation, only to be like a balloon losing its air as I learned the news.  This was perhaps the best decision we made.

The technician said, "I think I know what it is."  Then we waited for him to confirm his thoughts. Brian was behind me a ways, not close enough to touch me, holding Caleb in his lap.  Then the technician said, "It's a boy.  Definitely."  I strained to see what he was looking at, and yes, I had to agree with him.

For a second, I couldn't look at Brian.  I just sat sort of still, not wanting to be disappointed, because, after all, I was having a child!  Who cares what it is?  Two children are more than many can boast. But, folks, I am human.  It did hurt.  When I could finally turn to look at Brian, he had a sympathetic look on his face, and mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

While Brian was a bit disappointed, too, he was able to get over it a lot faster.  After all, he is a man! Two boys!  Hurray!  Two boys to carry on the name; two boys to tackle and wrestle on the living room floor.  But me?  I asked, "Me, Lord?  What am I supposed to do with two boys?  One I can handle, but two?"

You see, folks, I am a girly-girl.  I have not one athletic bone in my body.  Gym was my worst subject in school.  I'd rather bake cookies in the kitchen than run around the yard.  How do I handle all this energy?  Jumping off furniture?  Getting skinned knees every other day?  Caleb is already strong, and quite frankly, he could beat me up if he wanted to. (And sometimes he does.)  I was scared I wouldn't be able to be a good mother to two boys.

I needed the time, before Silas was born, to adjust my thinking.  I was going to have another son. Instead of fearing it, I decided to look at it as a blessing.  Caleb was going to have a little brother, and a best friend!  I started to become eager to see how their personalities would be different.  Yes, both are boys, but their personalities will surely differ as the sun and the moon.

I can't deny that both my sons make my heart melt in a way that perhaps a girl never would, simply because they are boys.  When my Caleb gives me a kiss, I am as twitterpated as a young woman newly in love.

Over the course of the next few months, I was able to fully come to grips with the idea that we were not having a daughter.  We decided to name our son "Silas" when we were 35 weeks along, and when I had another ultrasound not long after, I wasn't hoping the first technician was wrong and that we'd be told different news.  I had fully embraced our boy by then.  When she confirmed that he was, indeed, a boy, I was happy to reaffirm our Silas.

Am I still sad I don't have a girl?  Yes, but I am not sad to have two boys.  They are two different things.

After we found out we were having another boy, Brian asked me not to close the door on having another child.  I really wanted this to be my last pregnancy, because, let's face it, it is no fun being pregnant.  Nor is going through labor.  I am not 25 years old with plenty of time left.  However, I heard what Brian was asking.  We're not declaring this to be our last pregnancy, but we aren't declaring that we will try for another either.  With both pregnancies, I charted and planned and tried to get pregnant. We don't plan to do that at all.  We are not going to try to get pregnant again, nor are we going to try not to, unless I have a particular health reason.

I have left it in God's hands.  After all, we could end up pregnant with a third son!  Who knows?! For now, I'm letting God worry about the future.  I am enjoying my two sons and the wonderful blessings that they are.  If they are the only two children I ever have, they are more than enough. Even if I never have a daughter.

**Just as I finished writing this post, I looked up to see Silas staring at me.  He was asleep, but just woke up.  He was looking right into my eyes, and I smiled back at him.  He's already a fixture in my heart.  I am so blessed to have these two boys.

We'll Miss You, Grandma

This past Sunday, we learned that Brian's grandma passed away.  She was 95 years old.

Obviously, this wasn't highly unexpected.  No one can live forever, and 95 years is more than many can boast.  However, it is still a loss to be grieved.  When we came home on Sunday afternoon after running an errand and going out for ice cream, Brian's dad was on our answering machine asking us to call back.  Brian knew from his voice that something was amiss, and said immediately, "I hope Grandma didn't pass."

When he called back, the tears didn't just come to Brian's eyes.  I also cried.  Brian's grandmother was the last grandparent left between us, but it was more than that.  Brian's grandma was one special lady- full of spark and strong opinions, and I truly appreciated her.

She was the very first person in Brian's family that I ever met, and she always had a special spot in my heart.  For whatever reason, I always felt at home with her.  Perhaps it was because of her relationship with Brian- she loved her one and only grandson so much- I guess it wasn't hard for her to love me, too.

The first time I met her was in April of 2010.  Brian and I were dating, and he wanted to take me to see his hometown.  Brian's parents were at their second home in Arizona, so we stayed at Brian's grandma's place.  She was still so full of life then, even cooking an Easter meal for us.  The next time I saw her was in August of that year, when Brian wanted to take me to his family's camp up in the Adirondacks.  The three of us went together, and it was neat to see Grandma in her element, the place she loved the best.  She put up with me, a city slicker by comparison, and though I remember her snapping at me two distinct times, I didn't let it get to me.  She was a particular lady who liked things a certain way, and I knew she wasn't snapping at "me" so much as at the way I was doing something. I never felt once that she didn't like me, but rather, I felt very much welcomed into her world up there at camp, even though I was such a foreigner to that whole lifestyle.

Every time I saw her, I called her "Grandma" and greeted her with a hug and a kiss.  It felt right to me, and not a stretch by any means.  My own grandmothers had passed on, the most recent being less than a month before I met Brian's grandma.  She seemed to naturally step in and fill the spot that I had been missing in my own life.

Grandma was a no-nonsense kind of lady.  She let you know what was on her mind and didn't hold back.  She had high standards, values, and morals by which she lived.  She loved going to church. She was devoted to her family.

We last saw Grandma this past May.  Brian must have sensed that this would be the last time he'd see her on this side of heaven.  He asked for some time alone with her, so Brian's parents, Caleb, and I all left the room.  He told her we were going to have another son this summer, and while we hadn't fully decided on a first name, we were committed to naming his middle name "Carl" after Brian's grandfather, her beloved husband.  She loved her husband very much, and was very happy to hear this news.  The morning after our second son was born, Brian called his grandma to tell her about Silas Carl, and she rejoiced with us.  She even got to hear some of the sounds Silas was making over the phone.  We also learned that Silas was born on her and Carl's anniversary!

We are so grateful that she got to hear about the birth of her tenth great-grandchild before she passed, and even more grateful that she got to hear him, for just a moment, over the phone.

She's in a place now that we can only dream about, and for all of us that know the Lord, we will see her again one day.  For now, we have that peace knowing that she is at peace.

We will miss you, Grandma!

Four Years

Brian and I were married four years ago today!

I sort of feel like we've come from being college freshmen to seniors, though I'm not sure we'll ever graduate.  Marriage is a constant growing and learning experience.  I don't think we'll be official graduates until maybe we are in our sixties.

Every year, I dedicate our wedding song to Brian on the Christian radio station that we listen to. Last year, I had forgotten to turn the radio on, because I was caught up in research on the computer at the time.  I had been researching why I was having trouble getting pregnant again, and finding the solution eventually led to our Silas.

Today, we missed listening to the song because Brian took me out for a late breakfast!  Normally, he takes me to out for dinner to a restaurant by Lake Wallenpaupack, and while it isn't that far away (about 25 minutes), Silas is literally nursing all the time (he's been having some issues), and I didn't want to go that far away at this time.  (I'm not a big fan of public nursing, even with a cover, and would much prefer to do it in private in my own home.)  Instead, he took me to a breakfast/lunch place down the street from us this morning, where he used to take me on my weekend trips to visit him when we were dating.  After church, and before I'd return to NJ, he'd always treat me to a meal. It was neat to go there today for our fourth anniversary, and with our TWO sons!

We decided to give each other grace in the gifts department, being that we did JUST have a baby last week!  We decided to give each other actual gifts on September 20 so we could have a little bit more time to think about it/acquire said gifts.

I donned my wedding gear once again, as I do every year:  the headband, earrings, and bracelet I wore on my wedding day.  It's just a small, but neat little thing that connects me to that beautiful day in which I was a bride.

I am so grateful for this godly man God has given me.  He is a wonderful husband, and I pray that we will grow old together.  He's my best friend and I am so blessed to call him mine.

When Three Became Four

On Monday, August 10, I began having contractions.  The funny thing is, I wasn't entirely sure they were contractions.  Since I was induced with Caleb, I never had that experience of trying to decide when to leave for the hospital.  Labor started in the hospital and I didn't have to stop and analyze anything.  While the hard part of labor was longer with Caleb, the easier part was longer with Silas. So I actually spent many hours laboring at home without being in the worst of it.

I had an appointment scheduled with my midwife at 3:15 at the office across the street from the hospital.  We had discussed it already on Friday, and she had planned to induce me with Cervidil if I didn't go into labor on my own.  When we showed up that Monday, we found out I was four centimeters dilated, so it was past the point for Cervidil.  We were afraid she was going to send us back home, which we absolutely did not want, since it is fifty minutes each way.  What if we started going home and labor took off?  I didn't want to be stuck in the car and rush hour traffic during labor.

Looking back, I remember walking in the office as a contraction was upon me, so I was hunched over with my hand on my abdomen.  The secretary took one look at me, said to another secretary, "It looks like she might not be induced after all."  However, at that time, my contractions were still irregular and while painful, still very much tolerable.  My midwife clearly didn't think I was in active labor. She thought for several moments and decided on a plan.  She'd send us to the hospital.  She told us to stop for a bite to eat, then head to the hospital and simply relax in the hospital room for the night.  If labor came, then great.  If not, she'd give me Pitocin in the morning.  Brian and I were relieved to not have to turn back home.  Before leaving, she put some homeopathic concoction in my water, and told me to take two sips every half hour.  It was supposed to help bring on labor.

Brian and I headed out, and since there was a lot of traffic and we were too nervous to simply go out and enjoy ourselves, we got a couple of slices of pizza to go and and ate them in the hospital parking lot.  Then we proceeded to get ourselves checked in.

I was gowned up, and my midwife came over after her shift to check on me.  She still didn't think anything would happen.  I was told to relax and hang out.

It seemed the moment all this was done, things started to really happen.  I didn't even have time to unpack my suitcase a bit and get settled.  Brian began timing my contractions, and all of the sudden, they were coming four minutes apart.  I was texting my sister in between, and she was excited for me, believing this was it, finally.  I told her my midwife didn't think anything would happen that night, and my sister texted me back and said, "She don't know nothin'.  You're going to have that baby tonight!"  (She meant no disrespect to my midwife; she was only trying to encourage me.)  My sister urged me to get up after they got the monitors off of me, and get moving so the baby would drop.

Then, everything seemed to be moving from there.  The nurse came in and saw the state I was in, and Brian told her my contractions were four minutes apart.  When we first arrived, we were pretty much told we'd be left alone for the night, but no more.  My midwife was alerted and she came back, and she said she wouldn't be going home after all.  The nurse showed me some helpful positions for laboring, and Brian and I got to work.  (There was a nice slow dance position where I had my arms wrapped around Brian's neck and he held me at the waist, and when the contraction came, I bent at the knees in order to bring the baby down.  It would have been romantic if no pain was involved!)

The contractions started to be serious at 4:40, when Brian started timing them.  Needless to say, the pain intensified.  I was really trying hard not to cry out for any drugs or an epidural, and I can honestly say that I was not even tempted this time around.  I knew I just had to get through this no matter how hard it was.  I did a lot of moaning, whereas with Caleb I did a lot of yelling.  One of the nurses actually complimented me on my moaning, saying that was much better than yelling, because yelling would take more of my energy.  (I did yell towards the end, when I couldn't stand it any more, but my yells were all prayers toward God for His help and strength.)  Brian was encouraging me the entire time, being so supportive and positive in my weak moments.

I was fortunate enough to be given the room with the tub, because I had wanted to labor in the tub in hopes that would ease some of my pain.  I was told by the nurse to save it for the end if I could hold off that long, because that would be my best weapon, and it was better to keep it in my arsenal as long as I could.  I went in when I was about eight centimeters or so.  It did help immensely, but let's be honest, nothing can shield a laboring woman from the pain at this point.  I found that being on all fours when a contraction hit was best for me, and Brian found that pointing the water sprayer on my back helped me also.

The nurses were asking me to let them know when I felt the need to push.  Almost as soon as they said it, I felt it.  My midwife had thought I wanted to birth in the tub, which plenty of women do.  But honestly, I had only wanted to labor in the tub.  I felt like I could better push out of the water.  In the water, I felt like I had less control over myself due to floating and whatnot, so the nurses proceeded to get me out of the tub and get me on the bed.  Everyone got into position.  Brian was on my right side, holding my right leg, and a nurse was on the other.  Pushing began.  It hurt so much; I truly didn't think I could handle it.  I said so.  "I can't do this!" I shouted, over and over again.  I really felt as though I'd be stuck there forever, with a baby wedged in my body, not able to get out because I couldn't push him.  My midwife stopped and came close to me, "Courtney, look at me," she said.  "You CAN do this."

There is no work like labor.  Perhaps I should say there is no labor like labor.  It is the hardest work a woman ever does.  It requires so much strength and concentration.  I pushed and pushed and I'm sure I used muscles that weren't necessary at all, because I simply threw myself into it fully.  Finally, finally, my baby came forth.  He slipped from my body at 8:29 p.m., and the worst was over.

In moments, he was placed on my stomach.  He was awake, but not looking at me because he was on his belly.  I looked at him, though, and my heart filled with love for my second son.

He was taken to be weighed and measured, which was fine, because my midwife had to repair the damage done to my body, which was also very painful.  Goodness, nature is not kind to women giving birth!  Even afterwards, there are pains to be dealt with.

After our Silas was taken care of, and after my midwife was finished with me, I got to hold him again and soak in the wonder and joy of having another child.  No matter how exhausted, nothing can spoil the joy of that moment.

 This photo was taken earlier in the day, before we left for the hospital.

And now, here we are as a family of four.  Our cup runneth over.

We Love You, Silas Carl!

Our brand new son was born on August 10 at 8:29 p.m.!  He weighed 8 lbs., 10 oz., was 20 inches long, and had a 14 inch head.

It turned out that I did not need to be induced and I gave birth the day my midwife had been planning to induce me.  The labor and delivery was all-natural, and somehow I lived to tell about it.

I am completely exhausted at this time, so I'll keep this post short and sweet.  There is no rest for the weary, with a newborn who is up all night, and a busy toddler to chase about as well.

I'll be back with the whole birth story!