Saije’s Birth Story

 Hello world, it’s been two years, I’d say it’s about that time to update everyone on our life!! 

AKA, I had another kid.

Yeah, we’re all a little flabbergasted too. 

I’m not sure how to even start, especially since it almost feels like I’m starting from nothing. I honestly and truly miss regularly blogging about my life, but my day to day activity is so hectic and monotonous all at the same time that it’s not even realistic at this point. Oh well, it is what it is, and I’ve accepted it. At this point the small snippets on Instagram are all I can manage, even though I love the long drawn out details of a journal entry. 

But I digress.

I’m here now. Ready with an important life update. 

But let’s back up first a little bit. After I found out we were pregnant with the twins, but before I birthed them, Jeff and I swore we were done having children. We weren’t even sure we wanted to get pregnant again after Olivia, but a few promptings had us agreeing we were meant to have another one…but then it was TWO, so we assumed FOR SURE it was the end after that. 

Wrong.

For whatever reason, I’m sure it was divine in origin, my experience having the twins was wonderful. Maybe it was because I had very realistic expectations, or because I planned for every worst-case scenario to be my actual reality, but those two boys were a JOY and nothing close to my disparaging thoughts ever came to fruition. I can honestly say even though the first year was an absolute blur and I don’t remember many specific details, I also don’t remember feeling sad or unhappy or overwhelmed very often. I mostly remember feeling very happy and peaceful. 

…with two babies. 

…at the same time.

It was probably chaos!

And I must have been crazy! 

But it's because of this, the contentedness of our twins, that almost immediately a thought began creeping into my mind that we weren’t done. I pushed it away for a long time, refusing to utter my thoughts and give it life. And then one day I jokingly mentioned it to Jeff…and he didn’t say no. 

We went back and forth for months. Sometimes I’d think we were crazy and would back out. And then I’d change my mind, but Jeff would step back. It was so confusing. And then I had a very vague dream about a little girl waiting for me, accompanied by a nagging thought of her begging to not be forgotten, and as much as I tried to dismiss it as nothing, I couldn’t ignore it. And then a few weeks later Olivia came up to me unprompted and told me she had dreamt about a little sister. And I was shocked because Olivia never dreams, let alone remembers the dream and tells me about it. So at that point Jeff and I had a serious conversation about what we were feeling and whether or not this was going to become a reality. I didn’t want to wait years to try again, and if this was going to happen it needed to happen soon. 

We made the decision and decided against it.

I was sad, but it made sense, and I accepted it.

And soon afterwards I unexpectedly became pregnant.

I was so upset. More than upset, really, I was floored. I’ve never cried upon finding out I was pregnant, but I bawled this time, for two days. I was afraid and embarrassed to admit to anyone that we were pregnant again, and it sounds silly, but it was true. I didn’t want to be judged for having ANOTHER kid when the twins were still only one year old. (Thankfully they’d be more than two years when the baby was born, but just. I’d become one of those crazy ladies with THREE children ages two and under.) Unfortunately for me I wasn’t able to keep the pregnancy a secret for long because I became violently ill right at the six week mark, and it’s fairly obvious to anyone close to me when I drop off the face of the planet for no apparent reason. I was pleasantly surprised though when not one single person was anything less than thrilled with our news (or at least to our faces). It made the weight on my shoulders a little lighter and I was just a little less stressed with the situation we found ourselves in because I knew people were happy for us. And I was happy too.

But those first few months were hard. My morning sickness gets progressively worse with each pregnancy, and though I’m never hospitalized, I’m overwhelmingly miserable with the nausea and vomiting. This time around it was also accompanied with excessive saliva and heartburn from hell—I most definitely was not a pleasant person to be around and mostly stayed in bed. I did have a few angels in the form of best friends, sisters(in law), Jeffrey, and my mother-in-law, who tended to me in various ways when they saw the need, and I was overcome with relief and gratitude. It wasn’t until just before Christmas I started to enjoy everyday life again, and from there my pregnancy was fairly typical (minus the round-the-clock heartburn that I eventually had to start medicating for.) We found out the gender at my first OB visit at 15 weeks when confirming my pregnancy…yes, at 15 weeks… (it was also confirmed at the anatomy scan a few weeks later) and I was secretly relieved to finally know it was indeed another little girl, a small victory and consolation for following through in faith. She’d be our perfect finale.

As my due date neared, and my body wasn’t promoting labor on its own week after week, I surprised myself with how patient I felt. Normally the last month of pregnancy drives me crazy with anticipation, but I remembering feeling how odd it was that I wasn’t anxious or frenzied. I was willing to let myself go however long I needed to go into labor on my own, (mostly to avoid the increased risks of an induced VBAC) until I realized I had a handful of people relying on me for their travel plans (my mom and two sisters, none of whom live here, were trying to coordinate flights, and the in-laws wanted to be in town and not on vacation when she made her debut), so the day of her due date I met with my OB and let him schedule my induction for the next available opening. I had to be tested for covid early the next morning, but was called to come in to the hospital that evening without the negative test. We let everyone know that it was FINALLY happening, leisurely packed our things, put our other kids to bed, waited for the babysitter (my youngest brother Ben, soon accompanied by Emma and her boyfriend Tyler), and headed out to have our last baby. It was such a dreamlike moment. I remember thinking how casual the whole evening had been, how calm Jeff and I were, how routine it all seemed. We were not going into the unknown, but rather, were seasoned experts at this point. 

We walked into the hospital just after 8pm, checked in, and walked back to our room in no more than 30 minutes. I got changed, had my medical history taken AGAIN (why they don’t already have that is beyond me), had an IV port placed, and was hooked up to the heartbeat monitor. My nurses were very chatty and chill and I was thrilled to be taken care of by women who respected my experience as someone who had gone through this already. But because I was attempting an induced VBAC, my doctor wanted to be IN the hospital the entire time I was laboring in case anything went wrong and I needed an emergency csection. And because of that, he wasn’t there just yet (from what I was told, it was his day off and he was finishing dinner with his family, but that he’d be there soon) and so I couldn’t have my water broken or start pitocin. They checked to see what I was at, and I was still only 2cm dilated and 80% effaced (like I had been for the last two weeks) so they set me up on the birthing ball around 9pm and left me to it. I was on that dang birthing ball for almost TWO hours while Jeff napped, and I was almost out of my mind bored! Thankfully my doctor walked in just before 11pm, apologized for making me wait (apparently there was a miscommunication and he didn’t know I was here waiting for him!) and promptly set me up to have my water broken. He said I had dilated to 3cm just by bouncing on that dang ball, so I found the bright side in that by thanking my body for being ready to go into labor. I was given a low dose of pitocin in increasing increments over the next couple hours and was able to manage the contractions fairly well…until I couldn’t anymore. Around 1:30am I got my epidural placed and because the last one I had with Olivia didn’t take well, they took extra care to rotate me and place my body in the best positions for equal distribution throughout my lower half. After an hour I noticed my left side wasn’t as numb as the other side so they switched me to lie on that side with the birthing peanut between my legs. I fell asleep almost instantly, but woke up soon after when my blood pressure cuff went off and I noticed a strange sensation:

I felt like I had to poop. 

Looking back now I realize it should have been glaringly obvious to me—I’ve read enough birthing stories, researched enough labor symptoms, that I KNOW what that means. But in the moment, I just kept talking myself out of it, throwing doubt on the actual situation, like, No, that’s not what I’m feeling…no, I couldn’t possibly be ready to push already…no, there’s no way she’s crowning…no, it can’t possibly happen so soon, it’s only been a couple hours…

…but every contraction I KEPT feeling the pressure on my bottom and I knew I couldn’t ignore it any longer, so 15 minutes later, around 3:15am, I woke Jeff up and called my nurse in. And even as I was calling for my nurse I was still overly doubtful, just asking if I could have her come check me. She walked in, lifted the sheet, DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO SPREAD MY LEGS APART TO CHECK, and instantly said, Holy crap there’s a baby coming out of you! The next fifteen or so minutes we’re a blur of scrubs, gloves, and stirrups while they all prepped me and the doctor for delivery. I gave one {singular} half push when my doctor IMMEDIATELY stopped me after ONE SECOND (I kid you not) and little miss Saije Renee Downs literally slipped out and was born at 3:28am! I was in labor, in TOTAL, for FOUR hours. Saije had so much hair and I noticed immediately how much she looked like me! FINALLY! Almost none of my other kids have any resemblance to me at all, but here with my last little girl, I finally got a true piece of me. She was so lovely AND SMALL! At only 8lbs 5oz she was my smallest by far, but I didn’t mind in the least. (I don’t count the twins because…they’re twins…and even being born two weeks early they were hefty fellas). She was perfection.

The rest of the hospital stay was mind-numbingly boring—probably because I wasn’t allowed any visitors to keep me company due to covid, but also because I was just so exhausted but I couldn’t sleep. We almost didn’t make it out of the hospital in the normal 24 hour discharge timeframe, due to some jaundice complications with Saije, but thankfully her pediatrician let us go if we promised to get her checked out in his office the next day. (And the day after that and a few days after that…it was annoying, but all ended well.) The other kids were THRILLED to finally meet her and it was the sweetest reunion between them all. She’s most definitely everyone’s favorite and we have loved having another sweet spirit become a part of our family. It’s been a very surreal experience knowing with finality that I will never experience any of these things again myself, but as bittersweet as it feels sometimes, I am at peace. We are complete and we’re so glad to have her here. 

(Jeff got a vasectomy if anyone was wondering, haha!)

the twins

I really enjoy this blog, and it's been really fun to go back through all my posts every now and then, but Instagram has really taken over my journaling needs. It all comes down to convenience really. And who wants to read a novel with every picture anyway?? (Actually, I am that person...)

And then, big life changes--like additions to the family--make it necessary to actually pull this up and write a post so I can go into all the details I don't want to forget. So here I am after TWO  years. Make sure you've got a second, because this is going to be long.

Jeff and I had debated for a long time about whether or not we wanted to add to our family because we felt very comfortable where we were with the three we had. I had prayed and gone to the temple for answers. The only definitive answer I ever got was the positive feeling that yes, we were supposed to add to our family...the 'when' was always left up to me. And because of that, it took a while to finally work up the courage to start trying. So when that time came, I prayed to my Heavenly Father--with demands. I told Him I didn't want to spend months and months trying to get pregnant, so instead, we were going to try once and if it didn't happen, I was taking it as a sign we were done.

Insert a positive pregnancy test the next cycle, and at my first ultrasound at 13 weeks--TWINS.

The joke was definitely on me--I got the message: don't make demands and ultimatums with Heavenly Father. It was the exact month we decided to try just the once...and I dropped two eggs. Talk about timing.

All kidding aside, this was the biggest shock of my life. I have never EVER imagined having twins. Even when I was little, and played pretend, Barbies or otherwise, it was never to a mom of TWO babies. I'd like to think it was because I've always had a strong sense of sanity--and more than one baby just wasn't it. So when the ultrasound tech put the wand to my belly, and almost instantly asked me how I felt about twins, I legitimately thought she was just making small talk. Ha.

The pregnancy itself was actually quite uneventful (the swelling, nausea, fatigue, heartburn, restlessness, shortness of breath, stretch marks, lack of sleep, aches, pains, and general discomfort EVERYWHERE are pretty common and fairly uneventful symptoms of a pregnancy, but don't think for a second I was in some sort of pregnant bliss—most of those things were intensified because I was pregnant with two). For a twin pregnancy though, it was a dream. My OB was so impressed with my progress every appointment. They were di/di twins (separate placentas, separate sacs) which is considered the least risk, and they grew without ANY complications.

That is until my 32 week appointment. That day, at the typical ultrasound I had before each appointment, we found out baby A had at some point turned from being head down to breech...like his brother. And despite all my begging and pleading...he refused to turn back around (which was not surprising considering their sizes).

And this is where my labor story starts.

I was pretty upset because I assumed (and according to everything I'd read) when both babies were breech that meant an automatic c-section. As it turns out though, my OB was willing and even offered to deliver them both breech! I was pretty shocked at that news, and didn't know what to expect, so my OB said he'd go ahead and schedule the c-section, but he'd support any delivery I wanted. After doing some research on the topic (which there isn't a lot of) I decided if I went into labor on my own I'd deliver them breech vaginally, but if I made it to my c-section date...well then I guess I'd do that. Reluctantly. From what I'd read, there were risks either way, but if I had to be induced the risk was greater for a breech delivery...hence my decision.

And every week came and went and there wasn't any change. Except my belly grew bigger.

And then my c-section date arrived. Tuesday March 5th, 7am. My number one goal from the beginning was to carry them to term (38 weeks for twins) so we could hopefully avoid any time in the NICU, and I had made it. At least I had that to be happy about. Our other kids had already been taken to Grandma and Grandpa's house the night before (and were staying there for the week!) and plans had been arranged for Granny and Opa to take them the next week for spring break. My sister had flown in over the weekend to take care of me in every way following the twins' birth. And I was trying my hardest to avoid thinking about what was actually going to happen to me. I felt ignorance was probably best...I mean, who wants to think about being cut open and having a major surgery? Anyway, we arrived at the hospital at 5am to start being prepped. At some point in triage, somewhere between getting an IV in my arm, having two heart rate monitors put on my belly, Jeff telling ALL the dad jokes, and being given a hellish drink to neutralize my stomach acid, my nurse asked if I'd like to have an ultrasound to check one last time to see if baby A had turned--which of course I agreed to. And when the ultrasound tech finally came in...she couldn't tell...but she was pretty sure...he was now head down? So then my OB was called in to confirm, and after an ETERNITY he finally walked in to perform another ultrasound...and a physical examination. And after ALL that--it wasn't baby A's round little head, but his round little bottom. Baby A was STILL breech. After all that whirlwind of excitement and letdowns, I was almost immediately walked into the OR for my scheduled c-section, where Jeff and I parted ways.

This is where everything is a blur. I didn't black out, but so much happened and it happened so fast. I walked into a room with no less than 15 doctors/nurses/students all standing around in a very bright, very white, very sterilized room with all sorts of medical equipment I couldn't even begin to identify, Queen playing in the background. I was given a spinal and was immediately helped to a lying down position with my arms out away from my body, and a drape put up right in front of my face. My anesthesiologist (the sweetest grandma-type ever) kept checking my numbness until all of a sudden Jeff was by my side and all the nurses told him to look over the drape to see our babies being born. I felt a lot of tugging and pressure, heard the doctors and nurses giving updates, Jeff was squealing with excitement, and then baby cries. It wasn't until I looked at pictures later that I got a better idea of what was really happening with me. At that point, I hadn't even seen either of my babies, but I started feeling nauseous and hot and breathless. Everyone around me was so excited, especially Jeff. Soon I had two nurses on either side, holding up my babies so I could see them and take some pictures. I put on a happy face and then told Jeff to go with the babies into the recovery room. I honestly don't remember actually looking at my new babies or studying their faces or anything. As soon as they left I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on my breathing, willing myself to calm down, and very quietly told my anesthesiologist it felt like someone was sitting on my chest. She told me I was fine, that I was getting plenty of oxygen, and so I just kept my eyes closed, and tried to reassure myself...as I silently (or not so silently) freaked out. I basically just kept repeating very matter-of-fact that I couldn't breathe...and that I was hot...and that I felt sick. I felt weak. I wanted to pass out. And then I threw up and felt much better! I still don't know if it was just a reaction to the drugs, or if I was in a state of shock, or both. I do know I had to get two blood transfusions the next day because my hemoglobin was 'low,' whatever that means.

Once they finished gluing me together, which wasn't long after my 'episode,' they moved me into the OR recovery room where I finally got to meet my darling Calvin and Colten for real. We were able to have skin-to-skin contact and I tandem nursed them for the first time. Everyone was so impressed by their birth weights and their Apgar scores (9!) and their instant latches. Absolutely no NICU time needed for my perfect little guys! And while I'm super grateful for modern technology and for the ability to have a safe delivery...I would never opt for a c-section if given the choice (10 out of 10 would not recommend). Ugh, it was the worst! We left the hospital two days after my c-section, and I couldn't wait to get home. Recovery was hard for me, but considering all the side effects that could have happened, but didn't, I guess I did okay. I also have to say my recovery was made infinitely easier by my families' willingness to take our older three for almost a full two weeks. It allowed Jeff and I to ease into having two little newborns at home. I also had Jeff, my sister, and tons of family and visitors to check up on me and make sure I was taken care of.

And that's that, I guess. Having them here has been a whole new learning experience, and I'm definitely glad I had them last (at least I know mostly what I'm doing!) Jeff and I still can't believe there are two of them, it seems unreal. The other kids are in total and complete love with their baby brothers, and are CONSTANTLY asking to hold them. They are the best helpers and will do anything and everything if it has anything to do with Calvin or Colten. It's pretty darn adorable. Our family is pretty darn adorable, and it's now complete.

The end.

Baby A- Calvin, born at 7:58am, 7lbs10oz, 20in

Baby B- Colten, born at 7:59am, 6lbs14oz, 19.5in

{Sunday}

 Sundays are little more hectic these days, church being at 8am, plus every few weeks I have to do it by myself while Jeff has to work.

But since we're all in our Sunday best, I use it as an excuse to take a picture of our family every week, and I enjoy looking back at all the pictures I've taken over the years.

These two pictures are from when I had to take the kids to church by myself for two weeks, once when Jeff had work, and the other was when he was sick.

And these two are taken almost 2 years apart! I just love looking at how we've all changed and grown!

              

STORY TIME!!

 Just so you all know, because I was totally unaware, it's already MARCH TENTH.

...yeah.

February is gone and I'm not sure how that went by so fast, but it did, and so here's a little recap of last month:

...

I've been gradually letting Olivia eat by herself, which is shocking on my part because I usually don't let my kids attempt this until they're almost 2.

....wait. 

She IS almost 2.

....siiiiiiiigh...

Well anyway, she's the messiest eater in the world, and instead of going crazy, I mostly find it adorable and endearing. Which is, again, shocking considering I hate any and all messes.

I swear, having a girl has made me soft. And though I REALLY don't like cleaning up her constant messes, life is less stressful when I don't sweat the little things.

Take a breath.

Let it go.

Let her be.

It's really not a big deal anyway.

Plus she's just freaking adorable.

Wyatt, for the most part, enjoys school. He still has days that get the best of him, and he still has a little more maturing to do, but he tries hard to be good. His favorite subject right now is art and so when Valentine's Day came around he was super excited to put his valentines together for his classmates.

We also got our own valentine from Wyatt when we met with his teacher (whom we love) for parent teacher conference. I still have a hard time believing I'm actually old enough to attend these things, but...here I am.

I knew February would be the last month of winter weather, so I threw the kids outside during a cold, rainy day so they could savor these last moments...

...it was probably more for me, I guess. I loooooove a good, cold rain.

They did too, so win/win.

Livvy is the cutest little girl in the entire world, but no matter how hard I try to dress her up, she always finds a way to wiggle out of being prim and proper. Ha, like I care. She's still the cutest little girl playing in the dirt, making a self-proclaimed mess.

Ahhhhh, Belgian waffles...need I say more?

Jeff had a random day off during the week, so we decided to make a fun day out of it and take him to the train park in Scottsdale. It's amazing what another adult can do to lift the stress off of a normal outing! It was beautiful outside, so we let the kids run around and enjoy themselves.

 Oh, also there was ice cream. That obviously made it significantly better.

Wyatt has always had an interest in cooking and so it came as no surprise to me when he told me he wants to be a chef when he grows up. That could always change, of course, but in the meantime I decided it would be okay to let him help me out with dinner every now and then, especially since he asks almost nightly if there's anything he can do.

 I also gave him his first knife lesson...it was a lot less scary than I thought it would be.

...though...it was still a little scary, even though he did very well.

I don't know what it is about sleeping children, but I LOVE them.

My best friend (of 25+ years) was celebrating her parent's birthdays, and since they're like second parents to me, I was also invited to the party! As well as MY parent's since they are also friends...

I seriously have this problem of constantly wanting to match my children in clothing. I know it's embarrassing, but...I mean, come ON! We're so adorable!

And finally, this is me documenting the little monkey before she falls off and breaks her head. I kid you not, the girl loves bouncing on my bed like it's a trampoline! But put her on the trampoline and all you'll get are sreams and panicked resistance. It's fine though...right? That monkey rhyme isn't a real thing...

::heart::day::

Can you believe it?!

JEFFREY planned a surprise date for me! Without my knowledge! On his own! (with a lot of help from my dad, but that's besides the point...) HE SURPRISED ME WITH A MINI VACATION FOR VALENTINE'S DAY!!

...of course...

...once I found out he was planning something I pretty much coerced him into giving me the details right then and there because I pretty much suck and being patient...

But it was still a surprise! So it counts!!

(...in the entirety of our marriage, this has never happened. Any vacation, or getaway, or sweet surprise has always been planned, carried out, and surprised by me.)

It was a simple trip to San Diego, with my parents, to breakfast, the zoo, the beach, Old Town San Diego, and then a fancy dinner on the harbor. We were crazy tired afterwards, but it was truly a fantastic day together.

Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart!

back to real life

 Getting back into the swing of things after a vacation is THE WORST.

I mean, let's be real, who really LIKES cleaning the house, washing the dishes...DOING LAUNDRY...

NO ONE, that's who.

If you'd like to contest that opinion, you may clean my house.

Hahaha.

So anyway, here I am, finally out of vacation mode and trying not to be a hermit. Unfortunately there's only two ways I get out of my house...church...and anything that involves food. Occasionally I'll get out for my friends, but you know...that usually involves food, so...it's just semantics.

I'm only sort of kidding.

Here's the proof though, if you'd like some:

My kids after church, being adorable. I'd say "as usual," but that's not necessarily always the case with them...

...but they do make me smile.

Awwww, look how mushy and corny we are! Aren't we the best?

I bought myself some tulips because...why the heck not? A dutch maid just needs a few tulips sometimes...or any other flower. I'll take any flowers any day, every day (hint, hint to the hubby)

Also, I bought them WHILE out grocery shopping...so food.

I FINALLY got out of the house to take my kids to the park with my friend and her kids...we went out for pizza afterwards (there's my food incentive, see?)

Livvy is so adventurous. I can ONE HUNDRED PERCENT see where having older brothers has influenced her...

Annnnnd church again, different week. Livvy and I were the only ones to make it, leaving behind a bunch of sickos. (In the literal sense...they were all ill.)

the end!

G*E*O*R*G*I*A

Because my darn sister and her husband felt like a job was important to their well-being...they took my nephew(s) and niece and moved as far as they could.

Rude, right??

I mean, those were some of our best friends!

And they just up and left us.

Whatever, I'm over it now, obviously, so any opportunity to visit their so-called home state, I'll gladly take it. And they've only lived in Georgia for a year and a half, but I've already visited during all four seasons, aaaaaaand....I can see why they love it there. It's absolutely beautiful. Plus, I'm kind of an architecture/history fanatic, so that place feeds my need for old homes and buildings.

ANYWAY, flights were cheap...ish...and Grace convinced me to come over for a few days to visit with our other sister, Emma. It was pure heaven. I only took Olivia with me, and I can't for the life of me figure out why I ever thought one child was difficult! (Not bashing on you moms of only one, because the transition from none to one was definitely the hardest for me, but sheesh, only having to deal with one kid instead of three was C.A.K.E.)

Basically what I'm trying to convey is this: I was on vacation the ENTIRE time.

(Except for the traveling part, on an airplane with a restless 22 month old--but that's a different story)

So now, here I am, back home already, and missing all of my loved ones dearly.

Until next time...and hopefully it's soon.

Holland and Olivia (or Holly and Ollie, nicknames given to them by their Opa) are finally at the stage where they remember each other and want to be with each other. This was such a fun trip to watch them because they are seriously too freaking cute. 

My mother planted some carrots in Grace's garden last summer and they were forgotten about...until I found them...

...they were enormous.

But it didn't stop the girls from snacking on them!

We REALLY like having our own little mini-me dress-up dolls. That's what having little girls are for, right??

We went hiking to a beautiful waterfall, and then noticed Livvy and I had matching shoes! 

I love my sisters so much, and I honestly don't know what I'd do without their love and friendship. The best thing though, is how much we can laugh with each other.

 Or at each other. Whatever.