The Truth About It All

Something I have always strived for in my writing  is complete honesty. I have no agenda. I have no one I need to impress with false ideas about how glamorous my life is.  The really great thing about this place in my life is that I really don’t care what others think. My life is really beautiful, but its beauty comes along with the messy situations that come in the forms of bureaucratic paperwork, language miscommunication,  international flights, and now sour milk on my clothes because grabbing a burp cloth in the midst of projectile spit up just wasn’t possible at 3am in the morning while half asleep.

Motherhood, if anything, makes me want to be even more honest (if that’s even possible) because now more than ever, it feels like I NEED to be in some sort of competition. I’ll never understand why we as women claim that new motherhood is hard and lonely, yet we judge and criticize other moms for feeling the same things. Before my son was born, I expected hard work and sleeplessness. But what I didn’t expect was to feel resentful. Resentful of my husband for having the ability to just walk away and leave if he wanted to while I was tied down to the baby who so needs me. I was resentful of my child for being so demanding of my time, every last bit of it. Make no mistake, I love my son, but becoming a mother has a way of stripping away the very fibers of who you were and used to be. Katie as a thinker was no longer important. Katie as an individual was no longer important. My personal space? Gone. My independence? Gone. My possession of my own body? Gone. My worth? In some ways, gone. My very worth as an individual became overshadowed by my new role as a mother.

Perhaps the adjustment was a bit harder for me than expected because I AM a thinker. Even in my pregnancy, I stayed active with political races back home. Thinking is what I do. I just sort of assumed that being a mother would only add to who I already was instead of replacing it. The first few weeks of being a mom were hard. Damn hard. I’ll never forget this one night when Callum was particularly frustrating. Nothing I did worked. Nothing Roman did helped. I held this baby and felt hatred. Yes, I admit it. I cried and cried and finally looked into his eyes and said, “I hate you. I just want to let you cry.” But then the tears came even harder because I didn’t really mean it. I love my son, and no matter how frustrated I was, he was never left alone to cry ever in his life. I always held him. I never left him. Where I go, he goes…. even if it’s a trip to visit the bathroom! What I hated was this situation… weeks of no sleep, hunger, exhaustion, desperation, confusion, and loneliness.  My saving grace came in the form of friends of mine, fellow mothers, and the moms in my own life who offered more than they could imagine to my confidence level. Other moms reassuring me that these feelings and even the wish to return your child to the hospital in which he was born is normal. Somehow just knowing that I was normal made the difference. There aren’t a whole lot of people out there who really talk about the normal of new motherhood….certainly not in the world of Facebook. What you find are perfectly positioned and perfectly dressed sleeping babies or well-dressed mothers who boast on how easy it is that they managed to clean the house, do the dishes, nurse, and have a meal prepared for their husbands when they got home. My reality is that I am glued to this one spot on the sofa nursing my son or holding him because he doesn’t sleep anywhere other than in my arms. Gourmet meals and a clean kitchen? Yeah right. I’m just lucky if I get to shave both legs in the shower before my son erupts into another screaming fit.

I love my son, but the hardest thing I will ever admit in my life is that sometimes I wish I wasn’t a mom. Sometimes I wish I could just pack a bag and go away alone for awhile. This entry is really hard to write because actually admitting these things goes against the very core of what society expects of women. We’re supposed to just LOVE it, every bit of it and to do so fabulously. So for those of us who find ourselves with conflicting feelings and actually show our human, non-super mom/wife side, we become the target of judgement from fellow moms and future moms who just think we are bad moms. This can weigh heavily on a person who is brand new to the mom game and already judges herself far more than anyone else possibly could. For so long we wanted this baby and waited for this baby, and once he arrived, I felt so ungrateful for this miracle that he truly is. I felt like I didn’t deserve him or to be his mom.

But I am proud because I didn’t run from my feelings. I opened myself up, accepted the tears, asked for help, publicly said how I felt on Facebook, and I soldiered on. Why? Because I’m Callum’s mom. And as hard as the days are long, we’re surviving. When I wake up in the middle of the night and feel my son soundly sleeping in my arms, there isn’t any other place I’d rather be. When I wake up in the morning with my husband to my left and son to my right (what Roman calls the “Wenger man sandwich”), I know that this is exactly where I am supposed to be.

Roman went back to work today after a full month of being home with us since Callum was born on February 11th. As he walked out of the door, the reality of our new normal sunk in. “I can do this,” I repeated to myself. Then I picked up sweet Callum and brought him to his nursery for a diaper change. Instead of crying like usual, he just looked at me with his big, expressive eyes. Maybe he could feel what I was feeling. I leaned in, kissed him, and said, “We’re just going to have to learn all of this together, kid.” And when Callum smirked in response, I realized that even if I don’t feel like super mom just yet (if I ever do), I’m super mom to my son. And so maybe parts of old me are on hiatus for awhile. Old me wasn’t a mom. And so maybe old me had all of the things I’ve found myself missing. Old me didn’t have Callum, and old me longed for his life so badly. I’m definitely not who I used to be, but I’m learning all about new me. Some things are harder to accept than others, and some days are harder than others, but I really am one of the lucky ones, and I’m going to try to make the new me be someone that values each day of motherhood, the good, the bad, and the sleepy, a little bit more.

First Taste of Motherhood in the Hospital

I sit here with my snoozing baby in one arm, so I only have one hand to use to write this entry. Living life with the use of one hand and arm at any given time is just one of the many things I have had to learn as a new mother. My son is almost 4 weeks old, and being able to sit down and do what I want to do, like write a blog entry, is just another one of the casualties of former Katie that simply had to go. Becoming a mom for the first time is the most incredible journey ever. But if that is all anyone ever tells you, they are lying. Being a mom is hard. It is much harder than I ever imagined it would be, and this is coming from someone who used to babysit and work with kids since she was 10 years old!

Everyone asks me what that moment was like when Callum and I met eyes for the first time. That moment and experience changed me and every fiber of my being. When I saw my scrunched up baby taking his first breath of life, my heart stopped. I didn’t cry, but I was in a serious state of shock. I couldn’t imagine that I just birthed a baby, our baby, the baby we fought so hard to have and even harder to keep. Our son was here, and with all of the millions of reasons why my pregnancy was complicated and the millions of reasons why my son should have had complications, my delivery of my son was uncomplicated, and our baby was perfectly healthy. I sat in shock for what felt like a lifetime that the biggest prayer, our healthy baby boy, was answered, and we were his parents. I repeatedly said “Oh my God!” about ten thousand times, and it still seemed unbelievable as the adrenaline wore off. Moments later while holding my son, I quietly sang “Happy Birthday” to him. One of the midwives who aided in delivery came over and sang with me. The tears came about an hour later after his delivery. Roman and I were in the room alone with Callum. He was sleeping but very content within the boundaries of his tired mother’s arms. Looking at this baby that mimicked his father’s expression just brought me to tears. My baby was here. I’m holding him. I’m nursing him. I’m so madly in love with him.

The initial joy of new motherhood faded almost as quickly as I was wheeled out of labor and delivery and brought into recovery. There were no more single rooms available for me and my husband and child to sleep in, so I had to share a room with another two women. The midwife told me Roman would have to leave us for the night since family members were not allowed in these rooms. I panicked. When I was initially brought into the room, there was only one other woman who did not just give birth but was recovering from a surgery. Every time Callum cried, the other woman huffed and puffed. My son was born just hours ago, how am I supposed to NOT let him cry ever?? When the third woman was brought into the room, she gave birth like me, but her snoring was so loud I am pretty sure not even the sounds of planes taking off could mask her roar. Needless to say, I was a wreck. I needed to rest and recover, and I needed my husband with me. I’m in a foreign country for crying out loud. I just cried and held on to my son. It was just the two of us it seemed, and I was all he had. Luckily, a very sweet midwife could see my stress, and she managed to get us a private room in the morning. It wasn’t renovated yet, but we didn’t care. We just wanted to get out of there.

Finally, we moved rooms, but I was unable to really rest as people were coming in for this or that reason all day every day. I was very sore. Callum’s shoulders caused some tearing that required stitches, and the sheer amount of postpartum bleeding was alarming for this first-time mom. No one ever talks about that part. I also had some pretty intense contractions after Callum was born. Not to mention, I was tired. I knew newborns kept you awake, but I was totally unprepared for the fact that even 5 minutes of sleep would be asking for too much. I don’t care what anyone says, newborn care is totally dependent upon the mother. Nothing Roman did would calm Callum. He simply needed me, and I needed to be awake to soothe him. Callum’s dependence on me felt overwhelming. Up until this point, I had shared the pregnancy with Roman as best as I could. Granted it was my body going through the changes and growing our son, but he went to every doctor’s appointment, felt the baby kick and move, and was just emotionally part of it. To see my husband soundly sleeping while I was alone in comforting our newborn son for the millionth time in a single night frustrated me. I resented Roman, and I missed the freedom I said goodbye to 38 weeks ago.

As challenging as it initially was, somehow we were making it. Callum never had a problem nursing. And I was able to feed him with colostrum for the first few days of his life. The biggest worry I had during pregnancy was whether or not I would be able to breastfeed. Many of the physical changes they say you have during pregnancy, I didn’t have. On top of that, having PCOS, low progesterone and an under-functioning thyroid put me at a higher risk of not having enough breast tissue to nurse. I prepared myself for the real possibility that I wouldn’t be able to nurse my babies, and I cried tears during my pregnancy about it. Then when Callum was born, he was spitting up a lot of amniotic fluid, which apparently is normal in newborns. Out of fear, I called the midwife to come and check on my son to figure out why my son was spitting up every time he nursed. Everyone reassured me that it was just amniotic fluid. So then when he started spitting out another substance, I rang once again. Much to my delight and happiness, that substance was breast milk! My milk had come in, and Callum’s little stomach was simply getting used to it. I celebrated that moment. We were going to be okay.

Callum was born on Tuesday, and we were all set to go home by Saturday. Everything was fine, so when the midwife came on Friday afternoon to draw blood from Callum, I figured it was just routine procedure before leaving the hospital. Not much longer after, she came back and told me that I needed to pump breast milk and feed it to him right away. I was very confused considering I had not needed to pump at all since giving birth.  I was still tired, but figured maybe they just wanted to see how much breast milk I had to pump out in a 20-minute time period. I had just nursed Callum only minutes before, so when I pumped and only had about 10 mL to give, I felt defeated. Suddenly, two doctors came in and told me that Callum had jaundice that needed to be treated. He said we could either put him under the bililights in the NICU or we could treat him with a biliblanket that would allow him to stay with us in the room. I didn’t want my baby out of my sight, and since I had the option to choose, I made the  choice to treat him using the biliblanket. Roman was at school taking his last exam for the semester, and I was making the calls alone without anyone to consult with. I just had to go with it. Things started happening quickly at this point. Like a well-oiled machine, people came in to check the baby for this or that, consult me about frequent feedings, and set up the biliblanket machine. I was told that Callum needed to stay in his bassinet attached to the biliblanket and couldn’t come out. If he was hungry, I needed to bottle feed him with pumped milk. If I didn’t have enough milk yet, he would need to be given formula. The more he drank, the more he would poop and get rid of the bilirubin causing so much trouble. If Callum cried, I needed to call the midwife so she could help assess what his need was and turn off the machine if needed. Callum enjoyed the warmth of the machine for the first three hours he was in. I had pumped a lot of milk, and it was ready for Callum the moment he started crying. I was on top of it.

Callum and the biliblanket

Callum woke up and was hungry, so I fed him. He didn’t like the bottle, but he at least got the nourishment he needed. But then he wanted to comfort nurse, which he did and still does. I gave him the bottle once again, and he was drinking more than I anticipated and had prepared for. I gave him the empty bottle to try to soothe him, but he refused it. Finally Roman came back from school, and what he came back to was a stressed out wife, an unhappy baby, and several midwives coming in and out to check on Callum. That night was the hardest night of being a mother. Nothing is harder than seeing your baby attached to cords and machines, especially when they can’t be in your arms in the process. My mind instantly went to a very dark place. What if he thinks I abandoned him? He’s screaming in his bassinet for me and my comfort, and all I can do is rub his forehead! What I would give to just hold my baby in my arms, nurse him the way he knows how, and just show him that I am always with him. I cried all night long, and Roman and I felt completely helpless. We were told to ring for the midwife whenever we cried. The midwife on duty pretty much stayed in our room the entire night since Callum cried for the entire night. My baby needed me, and there was nothing I could do for him. I couldn’t pump enough milk to keep him from crying. No amount could. He wanted his mother’s comfort, and he got formula instead. The crying continued. That was the longest night of my life. I cried nonstop.

The next morning finally came, and we worked it out with the midwives to keep the biliblanket on Callum but keep him in my arms instead of the bassinet. The crying and screaming was just too much. Normally babies like the warmth, but my son wanted me instead. I am happy that the midwives realized that. He screamed for hours, and when he was finally allowed back into my arms, the screaming and crying instantly stopped. Callum’s tears instantly ended, and mine began.

The face of new motherhood

All of the emotions from the night before just erupted the moment I could finally hold my son again, and I never wanted to let him go. And for the rest of the time in the hospital, that’s exactly where he stayed… in my arms. I was exhausted. I was stressed. I was alone emotionally and using my phone to contact loved ones back in the States with text messages. But my heart just overflowed with an abundance of love that I have for this tiny little person who changed my world. I’m his mother, and the only mother he will ever know. Suddenly the responsibility of loving this person and caring for this person overwhelmed me. As much as you think you know about babies and children, you know absolutely nothing when it comes to your own child. And in that moment, I felt confused. I didn’t know what I was going to do…. raising a baby in a foreign country? Can I do this? Can I really do this? Yes I have Roman, and thank God for that. But can I REALLY be the best mother I can be here? I owe nothing but my best self to this child, and I just want to be enough for him. When we finally got to hold Callum again, Roman took pictures, and I am so glad he did. I feel like these pictures of tired, disheveled me so perfectly portray what new motherhood is really like. It’s emotional. It’s empowering. It’s confusing. It’s enriching. It’s rough. It’s beautiful. It’s raw.

First sleep for the both of us

The rest of our time in the hospital passed by, and Callum’s jaundice progressed well enough to be sent home. We were thrilled. That Sunday, Roman and I ate lunch together in our room while the baby napped. We dressed him in his layette from his great-grandmothers, and we loaded our baby into his car seat. I hugged midwives who took care of me physically and emotionally those first 5 days postpartum. I hugged the midwives and nurses who took care of my son. I don’t care what anyone says. I have such a huge respect for midwives in this country. I’ve said it to everyone and anyone who has heard Callum’s birth story. The very reason I was able to have a natural delivery without a C-Section is because of the German midwives who believed Callum and I could do it. I have been told by doctors and friends with similar birth stories back in the US that due to the sheer amount of time alone, Callum would have been a C-Section baby in the US.  So it was incredibly bittersweet walking out of that building with my husband and my new son leaving behind a lifetime of memories as we begin to make new ones as a family of three. The most incredible journey of my life began in that hospital building, and I was leaving a different person than the woman who walked in excitedly about to give birth for the first time.

Mommy and baby monograms!

Those first few days of Callum’s life in the hospital were not easy, but they defined us in so many ways. Coming back to our apartment with him in my arms was the most exciting feeling. As I held our son in my arms, I got excited about the memories we were going to make with him in this place we call home. Roman and I exchanged glances, took deep breaths, and we simply dove head first into this new, chaotic, sleepless, but totally worth it life known as parenthood.

….And Callum has kept us on our toes ever since!

Callum’s Birth Story

What began as a miraculous pregnancy turned into quite a challenging one. With specialist visits and a new diagnosis at every regular doctor’s visit, it was hard to ever think that Callum’s arrival would ever actually get here.  Callum’s birth story, one filled with so much emotion, fear, will, determination, love, and support, is uniquely his own and one I hope he will read someday with a greater understanding of how loved he is and how much love surrounds him in his life.

His entrance into the world actually began Saturday, February 8th. I experienced some breathing difficulties and a major headache that never went away. Roman and I went to the Emergency Room only to find that everything was fine with our baby, but he would need to be delivered earlier rather than let the pregnancy continue too much later because of the amount of amniotic fluid surrounding him that was putting immense pressure on my lungs and liver. (We now know that was really the only reason my belly was so big. Granted, Callum was larger and longer than most babies born at 38 weeks, he certainly wasn’t the 10-pounder we had originally feared. Praise the Lord!) At the Emergency Room, it was decided that I would come in the next morning, February 9th, for an attempted induction using castor oil, almond butter, apricot juice, and sparkling wine in the form of a contractions cocktail to see if that would get the party started. The induction did not initially work as my contractions that I felt eventually faded into long-lasting pain, a side-effect of the cocktail. We resolved to the fact that a scheduled C-Section was in my future. Frustrated and irritated, Roman and I left the hospital and decided to go eat some Chinese food and take our minds off of the wasted day in the hospital. While eating dinner, the pain I felt intensified to the point where I spent most of our meal in the restaurant bathroom on the toilet in fear that my insides were about to make their way out of my body. I left our table and sat in the car while Roman paid, and we left early. The pain continued throughout the night but eventually went away completely.

Sometime early morning on Monday, February 10th, I woke up with what would be my first actual contractions. They woke me up, and I immediately felt like my body was trying to tell me something. They were not very regular at this point, but they were gaining in intensity. Interestingly, Roman and I had an appointment with the specialist at the hospital to actually fill out the paperwork and discuss the procedure of a scheduled C-Section. We arrived for our 9:30 appointment, and we scheduled the birth of our son for Wednesday, February 12th. All was set to go. But Callum had other plans…

I didn’t mention the contractions to Roman or anyone because at the time, while I knew something very different was happening, I didn’t actually realize it was early labor. I still thought maybe it was odd pain from the induction that just decided to linger around a bit longer. After our appointment, Roman went back to work, and I went home. I took a nap, and my contractions intensified more, and were finally regular. I felt a few every hour, but really decided, “Uh, I should probably really track these” around 2:00 pm Monday afternoon. They remained pretty regular  at one contraction every 15 minutes for hours. I told Roman when he got home that I was having contractions, and he became the official tracking manager writing down the time they happened, how long each was, and the difference in time between each one. I really thought contractions were just something women made up. But no, these bad boys are painful. There were several where I felt like my whole entire bottom was about to blow off (little did I know then that THAT is what labor and delivery really feels like but even more intense)!

Roman had a business meeting on Tuesday, February 11th that he planned since our C-Section was scheduled for the next day. He figured Tuesday would be his last day in the office before taking a few weeks off to be a full-time Dad to his newborn son. Because Roman had that business meeting, he went off to bed Monday night but told me to wake him up if the contractions got closer together. I spent most of the night on the computer timing them with my mom back in New Orleans, LA, and once the contractions hit anywhere from 7-10 minutes apart, my mom insisted it was time to wake up Roman.  I woke up my sleeping husband and told him the contractions were getting stronger, lasting longer, and getting more and more painful, so he called the hospital labor and delivery ward to talk to the midwives there. The midwives suggested getting in a hot bath to see what happens.  If the contractions stay as they are now, we were told to call them again so they could get everything ready for my arrival. While sitting in the bath, the contractions grew stronger and stronger. The hot water did very little in the way of lessening the pain. Roman sat helplessly pouring water over me while these waves of fire came and went every 7 minutes. After sitting in the bath for an hour, Roman called the hospital again saying we were on our way.

We made our way downstairs at 5:50 am on Tuesday, February 11th. I labored throughout the whole night, and I was definitely tired. We got in the car, drove to the hospital, and we were both very very quiet. I could see the wide range of emotions on my husband’s face. We had made this drive many times before for this or that reason, but this time, we would meet our son. We got checked into the hospital at 6:10 am. The midwives were very confused about what our plans were since I had a C-Section scheduled the next day. I told them that if I could labor and naturally deliver, then I would prefer that. I just needed to listen to my body and my baby at this point. I immediately got hooked up to the non-stress test, and sure enough, the contractions were coming and going every 5 minutes. They did a physical examination and found that I was 2 cm dilated. I asked if that meant I needed to go home and labor some more, and the midwife looked at me and said in German, “No, you are staying. You are going to have your baby.” Roman and I looked at each other in what could only be shock and surprise. “Really??” At around 7 am, the midwife sent us to this room called the “Relaxation Room” where I was brought some breakfast. I could hardly eat and could only focus on the contractions. Roman ate most of my breakfast, though, so it didn’t go to waste. I sat in this room for a few hours. Contractions were coming and going every 5 minutes, and I was ready to just have this baby at this point. It was a busy morning in the delivery unit, so I didn’t have a room to actually labor in. The midwife asked if I wanted to sit in a bath, and if I did, I could go right away and do that until a delivery room opened up. I agreed, and went off to this room with a giant bath tub in it. I sat in the tub for about 3 hours and really started to feel the “ring of fire” as they call it. This baby was coming soon. Or so I thought….

At around 2 pm and after a few hours of contracting in the tub, the midwife came back to check on my progress. She saw that the exhaustion from laboring all night was taking a toll on my mental and emotional state, and it had definitely taken a toll on my physical state as well. She informed me that after 8 hours of contracting in the hospital, I had not dilated even a centimeter more than my original 2 cm. She told me my body had stopped progressing because I was so exhausted. She wanted to get the doctor’s opinion on how to proceed next. I held my head in Roman’s lap. I really was exhausted. Roman later told me that this was the point in the day when he felt the most helpless and sorry for me. He had seen the painful contractions, and he was really upset that after 8 hours of being in the hospital, I had made no progress. This was going to be a long long labor.

Finally, the doctor came in and told me that she recommended giving me an epidural to relax my body, let me sleep a bit, and let my body recover. During this time, I would also be given Pitocin to help the labor progress once again. She said her hope was that the epidural would knock me out for a few hours while the pitocin worked to progress the labor, and then I would wake up with more energy and ready to push this baby out. Without hesitation, I willingly agreed. As I have said before, I really had no birth plan. I was not set on an epidural one way or the other. I figured that I would just play it by ear and listen to my body. After 30 hours of labor at this point, I was ready to get that epidural.

They moved me from the bathtub to an actual delivery room that was now open at around 4 pm.  I felt a bit of energy come back to my body knowing the epidural would help a lot of the pain and the pitocin would help progress things forward. Both Roman and I, while exhausted, were in really good spirits.

My delivery room

The anesthesiologist and his team came to my room to prep me for the epidural. I want to state that this hospital is a teaching hospital. There were midwife students and med students present for every single moment of contact I had with the medical professionals. One of the anesthesiologist students was going to give me my epidural under the supervision of the actual doctor. The student proceeded to place the needle into my spine, but it felt a lot worse than I expected. My whole entire body jumped forward. Something went wrong. She tried again, and once again, when the needle entered my spine, the same jolt of pain caused my body to lunge forward. I looked at Roman who looked very upset and confused. I honestly couldn’t understand German at this point. All I could think about was, “Oh my God. What just happened to my back and why it is hurting like THAT?” Roman told me after everyone left the room that the student misplaced the first two epidural attempts. You have to place the needle exactly in the right place. Any other place would cause a lot of pain to the patient, which it did. Finally, the doctor stepped in to place the epidural for a third time, and it was placed correctly without pain. Once the medication was administered, labor became a million times easier. I fell asleep!! I woke up sometime around 7:30 pm, and I dilated to 6 cm. Just 4 more to go!

At this point, I actually felt great and had some nice conversations with my midwives. Even on pitocin, I was still slowly progressing, but anything was better than just the dead stop that I was before. For the next several hours, we just waited and waited. I had several physical exams, and everything just seemed quite clear that this little guy was just going to take his sweet time making his way down the birth canal. Because I was on pitocin and an epidural, the baby was monitored constantly. The doctor and midwives told me that as soon as the baby appeared to be in any distress, they would immediately send me off for a C-Section. While I know of many who have delivered easily on pitocin, I didn’t think my luck would allow for that. It all felt like a waiting game… either he would come out on his own or the doctors would have to go in and get him. But Callum never went into distress. For as long as I was in labor, he always remained healthy and strong. Eventually my waters broke naturally, and we thought it was all going to start happening quickly from this point on.

We waited for what felt like an eternity, and somewhere after the 5th hour of being on the epidural, the drugs wore off completely. I started feeling pressure, but then the fire and the burning started back up again like before. But THIS time, the contractions were coming every other minute, and they were awful. The midwives panicked because the anesthesiologist who would need to administer the medication to me was actually in a surgery and couldn’t get to me. I waited for about 45 minutes for him to arrive and give me more medication. I was definitely crying, and the midwives had me hold onto this band hanging from the ceiling when the contractions came to relieve pressure off of my lower half. Roman sat and rubbed my head coaching me to breathe through each contraction. I am certain that focusing on the breathing was what kept me from actually just giving up.

Finally the anesthesiologist arrived and gave me a second dose of the epidural. The contractions were finally eased, and not long after, the midwives wanted to do an ultrasound to see what was taking the baby so long. Because I had so much amniotic fluid, not all of it came out when my waters broke. There was still a bit left allowing the baby extra time to move downward. This, while not a terrible situation, was still a bit uncommon and they called in the doctor and the chief of medicine to come and take a look at the ultrasound. Roman and I panicked a bit because no one really told us what was going on. We just kept hearing this and that about too much fluid being left around the baby. In my opinion, this was probably a blessing in disguise. Had Callum not had the amniotic fluid around him, he probably would have gone into fetal distress as it was taking him forever to get through the birth canal.

During the ultrasound, we found that Callum’s larger frame was posing a bit of a problem. Health wise, he was great, but his broad shoulders were making the final curve in the birth canal very difficult for him to pass through.  While he was head down, he wasn’t in birth ready position, and the doctors said they would give him one more hour to attempt to make the curve. If not, I would need a C-Section. After the doctors left, the main midwife looked at me and said, “We’ll do everything we can do so that that doesn’t happen.” And boy, the midwives worked hard. They put me in several laying and kneeling positions, and every time a contraction came, they pushed hard on my body in hopes to turn him past the curve. Even though the doctor gave us one hour to attempt a natural birth, the midwives must have delayed the doctors because they spent at least two hours just pushing on my butt or on my hips to try to make this delivery possible. Meanwhile, there were women delivering babies left and right in all of the hospital rooms around us. It was really frustrating to hear other babies be born knowing mine was just stuck somewhere. The joke in the delivery room was that Callum had it almost too nice and easy during the labor and delivery, and he just decided it wasn’t time to be born yet. It was all about HIS timing.

Hours passed, and the epidural started to wear off again. I started feeling more and more pressure, and I could even feel hot and cold sensations, which they say you shouldn’t be able to do. With the pressure, came an immense need to push. The midwives walked me to the bathroom, and I sat on the toilet thinking, “Something is very different about this pressure now.” The midwives checked me and after hours of trying to put Callum in the right position, he was finally ready to go! The midwives told me to just listen to my body from this point on. If I felt the need to push, push. Rest when needed, and push hard during the contractions. And I did. Suddenly, a lot of people started coming into the room. Aside from the two main midwives delivering the baby, both the doctor and chief doctor came back in as well as other midwife and med students to assist post- delivery. There were about 6 or 7 people in there, and Roman stayed by my head just rubbing it and coaching me through the whole thing.

The amount of pressure when giving birth is incredibly painful and intense. Pushing during contractions was the only thing that eased the pain. The epidural at this point was long gone, and I just had to get this baby out. It was up to me. The doctors and midwives were whispering among themselves that this was going to be tough because of the baby’s broad frame. Hearing that just made me want him out more. We were within minutes of the clock turning midnight to a new day….Wednesday, the day I already had a C-Section scheduled. This baby was not coming out via emergency C-Section just a few hours earlier. Every time a contraction came, I pushed as hard as I possibly could. I held on to the rope hanging from the ceiling for dear life, and I pushed and screamed. The midwives and doctors encouraged me so much when they said Callum had hair on his head. They could see my son. Now it is was my turn to see my son. I pushed longer and harder than the midwife asked me to do, and I could feel Callum slowly but surely making his way out. With one big push, his head was out. Okay, Katie, just get those shoulders out. Just do it. And I pushed again with everything I had in me after 50 hours of laboring with him on minimal food and sleep. Sure enough, after so much pressure and a giant push, I felt this immediate release of pressure. It was gone, and I was exhausted. But I heard the words come from my husband’s mouth, “He’s here!! You did it!! Our baby is here!” On Tuesday, February 11th with only minutes left before the clock struck midnight, I heard Callum’s first scream of life, the sweetest music to my ears. Instantly, the midwives brought him to me. As one midwife helped take off my hospital gown, the other midwife placed Callum on my chest. I didn’t cry. That part came later. But in those first moments, all I could say as I checked out my perfectly healthy and beautiful baby boy with my own eyes for the first time was, “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Thank you, God. He’s alive and healthy! Nothing is wrong with him! Thank you, God!” Callum stayed on my chest for a long time, which I loved. No one messed with him. No one cleaned him up. No one took him for weights and measurements and APGAR tests. They just let me bond with him, and I loved that about delivering here in Germany. Callum calmed down immediately in my arms, and I just felt in that moment that undying love that I first felt with the positive pregnancy test 30 something weeks ago. This was my son. I am this little boy’s mother. I need to be the best mom I can be. This little boy deserves only that. Roman and I looked at our son with eyes wide open to the beauty that exists only when you see life begin for the first time. We were hooked in that moment. We were parents. Roman kept kissing me and rubbing my head. As I thanked God for bringing my son to me, my husband thanked me. We were both in shock and disbelief that our son, after months of worry and fear, was here. And he was healthy.

The doctors kept saying to Roman and the midwives that I really had a lot of strong will and determination to get him out like I did. They were in the delivery room on stand by in fear that something would go wrong, most notably, his shoulders complicating the process. They said that I was really strong, and that they were really impressed. The doctor assessed his umbilical cord and said that his cord was actually quite short. When she told us that, I was in another state of disbelief and thanks. Because I had so much amniotic fluid, one of the biggest risks to the baby is that the baby gets the cord wrapped around his head and neck because he is able to move so much more later in pregnancy when movement should be more limited. Had Callum had a super long cord, the risk of getting it wrapped around his neck would have been much greater. A short cord meant that Callum wasn’t able to get it wrapped around his neck at all, another sign that our sweet boy was well-protected in my womb.

I was on a high for most of the night. Despite needing a few stitches, I was just amazed at what my body had been through and what it did. After 50 hours of labor, two misplaced epidurals, two epidurals that ran out, and a complicated pregnancy, I delivered our baby with no complications. I expected a C-Section; I really did. And not that anything is wrong with that, I just never really thought that a natural delivery was in my future. I worked through my thoughts and feelings to be okay with that. We had a C-Section scheduled for the morning of February 12th, and my son decided he was ready to be born on the 11th instead, even if he only had a few minutes of the 11th left in the day! Despite being scared out of my mind, in a foreign country, and handling all conversation in German with the medical team, I felt incredibly calm and safe the whole day. I thought I would be jumpy and nervous, but I really wasn’t. I felt like my body was going to do what it needed to do and what women for centuries have done before me. After a pregnancy with so much confusion and questions lingering over our heads, I think Roman and I were extra thankful to finally be able to look at our little boy in his eyes and know everything was okay.

I have no doubt that Callum’s birth story was the one he was intended to have. My sweet, stubborn, strong-willed little boy decided to come out when he was ready and on his own terms and only his terms.  And you know what? It was perfect. It was 50 hours of hard work, but it was totally worth it just knowing my little boy was finally in my arms. February 11th, 2014 was without a doubt, the most defining day of my life. I am so unbelievably proud of my son and our journey together. And as Roman cut Callum’s umbilical cord, a part of me felt sad knowing my journey with Callum in my belly was over. Despite the hardships, I really loved being pregnant with him and being the first person to KNOW him. But then as Callum’s head rested on my chest as his eyes locked onto mine and attempted to nurse for the first time, those feelings went away. I spent 9 months getting to know my son, and now he is getting to know me. And somehow, we’ll figure out this whole parenting thing together.

I love you, my sweet boy. I can’t wait to watch you grow. But don’t do it too quickly. Your mama can’t take it.

My German Induction & What Went Wrong

On Saturday, February 8th, I went to the emergency room at 38 weeks and 3 days pregnant with breathing problems and a headache that never went away. At my last doctor’s appointment, my blood pressure was significantly higher than normal coming in at 135/87. This isn’t considered “too” high to be a major threat, but it was much higher than my usual blood pressure that measured anywhere from 118/70 to 125/82. Granted, there has been a significant amount of life stress on my plate recently, but I didn’t think it was cause for concern medically. Roman and I went to the ER wanting to get my blood pressure checked out to rule out gestational hypertension or preeclampsia. Luckily, I was fine in that field, but the doctor found via ultrasound that my amniotic fluid had actually increased in the past week. So with the already larger than norm child I am carrying plus the weight of extra fluid around him, there was significant pressure on my lungs causing breathing to be very difficult and sharp pain around my upper abdomen from pressure around my liver. Also, the extra fluid was keeping our son quite content in his current position, so while he was head down, he didn’t have gravity working to push him down to really get him into a locked and loaded delivery position. Lastly, I should add that my belly is officially bigger around than I actually am in height. You can imagine what this does to a person’s back. It is more than simply back pain. Every step I take feels like bones in my back just breaking one by one with no relief at all.

My regular doctor has apologized over and over for how big my belly is. The combination of having a boy, a big boy with big boy genetics, extra fluid around him, and being a super short mom has done quite a number on my physical, emotional, and mental well-being. My doctor has said long ago that she recommended a scheduled c-section simply because she wasn’t sure his shoulders would even get out!

So back at the ER, the doctor who performed the ultrasound gave me the option of coming in today, Sunday, February 9th to do what they call a trial induction. From what I could tell, she was surprised and impressed that somehow I have made it this far with what the Germans call my “Riesenbauch” or giant belly. When I said the word “induction” to my American friends and family, all responded with excitement that Callum was coming today. Facebook posts and messages came at me left and right with well-wishes for Callum’s entrance into the world. While I so wished he would have come today, the German process of inducing is totally totally different than back in the US, and it is not a guarantee that the baby comes.

When you are induced here, you are not hooked up to machines full-time. You are not given actual medication. Inductions here are strictly homeopathic. Whether or not you deliver on the same day is totally dependent on whether or not your body kicks into gear for labor. Though most of the time, as we were told, it does not. So I showed up to the hospital after eating breakfast and sleeping in (recommended by the hospital), and they promptly hooked me up to the CTG machine (in English- this is the NST or non-stress test machine). Baby was fine, and I had no contractions. Duh. So then they brought me to another room where I was told I needed to drink this special “contractions cocktail” in 30 minutes. This cocktail consisted of apricot juice, almond butter, sparkling wine, and the real kicker, castor oil. I had a large container of it, and I drank it. It smelled like vomit and tasted much the same. After that, I was given a liter of water and told to walk the hospital campus for 2 hours then return to do another CTG. I must admit, I thought this was pretty dumb. If I had known this is what I was sitting in the hospital to do, I probably would have bypassed this trial induction altogether. I mean, come on. So Roman and I walked….and walked….and then it started to rain….and we walked some more.

After an hour of walking, I was fed up. I kept thinking, “My God. Thank you for insurance. Otherwise, this would be the most useless and expensive glass of apricot juice in my entire life!” Not to mention, I am seriously hurting. The weight of the baby and fluid is really much too much at this point. I am a short woman who was relatively thin pre-pregnancy. 

6 Weeks Pregnant:

 

So after getting rained on, Roman and I walked back into the hospital where I proceeded to walk up and down the hospital stairs just HOPING something would happen and this whole morning wasn’t a total bust. Sure enough, contractions did begin, but they were not painful at all. I know many moms prefer the homeopathy route, but after the pregnancy I have had with this, he really just needed to come out. My OBGyn, specialists, and doctor friends and family were all just in agreement that it was time. Callum was old enough, certainly big enough to be okay in the real world, and we just needed to do what we could to get me through this without literally breaking my bones. We met with the doctor who gave us the plan. They would check the CTG again for contractions and then check again. If my body didn’t respond to the homeopathic remedies, then they would schedule me for a C-Section.

I am not afraid of a scheduled C-Section. I did not go into this pregnancy with a birth plan about how I imagined birth would be. Any dreams of a certain type of birth experience would have been crushed by the very real concerns faced during my pregnancy anyways, so I just figured it would be best to keep an open mind, let go of my own expectations, and just let Callum come out the way that is best for him and for me as a pair. We would both enjoy the experience much more that way with little regrets in the end. However, it does bother me that a medical induction isn’t an option here. There is always a chance that the mother could deliver naturally with a medical induction. I have had many friends successfully and vaginally deliver their babies after being induced. I have other friends who had an induction but ended up needing a C-Section. It’s always a risk, but I think the mom should at least have the option to choose what she wants to do with her body and her baby instead of letting statistics and bureaucracy dictate for her. Giving Pitocin just isn’t done here. Statistically speaking, most women who get pitocin (especially before their due date) end up needing a c-section anyways, so why bother? Why risk putting the baby’s health in danger? Why risk the possibility of an emergency c-section if you can simply avoid it by avoiding pitocin? I see the point entirely, but again, if every pregnancy and every mother is different, why follow the same protocol whether you know if it works for one mother or not? I was also not given the option of reducing amniotic fluid or stripping membranes to start labor. Only this drink. As I have said before, rules dictate EVERYTHING in Germany. Rules rules rules. If they are not a million percent sure something good will happen in the end, it just isn’t done. And this is about every aspect of German life. So instead of attempting a medical induction, German doctors use the homeopathic route to see if the body will respond. If not, the mother will need to schedule a C-Section instead.

I had my second CTG, and contractions were happening. This got me very excited and thinking, “Okay, this might work! And if it does, I will never say a bad word about my medical experiences here ever!” The contractions got bigger, and were pretty regular. After they took me off of the machine, they had me wait for another 2 hours before checking again. During this check, I had much stronger contractions. They were incredibly tight, and it was a strange combination of feeling like I really needed to take a #2 and my uterus set on fire. I couldn’t sit. I had to walk through them. At this point, I informed friends and family back home that contractions were stronger and happening, and the baby might come! Roman and I walked around, and the pain continued. But then that was really it. The pain stayed, but it stopped coming and going like waves. The pressure just stayed, but nothing was happening. So when I took my third and final CTG test, I actually didn’t have any contractions at all. I just had this continuous pain that felt like period cramps but stronger.

And that was it. The excitement of feeling contractions (yes, I am a weirdo who excitedly looked forward to contractions) turned to disappointment and frustration. We had been in the hospital all day long, both of us hungry and tired and looking forward to meeting our son, and it just didn’t work out. I was in the hospital not receiving medicine, but some mixed concoction based on old wives’ tales that aren’t even proven to be that great for mother and child. The medical staff brushed it off as “Well, today just wasn’t the day,” and decided to schedule me for a C-Section on Wednesday, February 12, 2014 instead. Granted, I know it isn’t that far away from today, but I was still frustrated. I was frustrated that we had to stay there and play this stupid homeopathic game if everyone knew it wouldn’t work anyways. My induction failed because it relied on homeopathic treatment to jump start labor before my body really wanted to start labor. And where in the US medication is used to push the induction further and further, homeopathy couldn’t keep up. It has limits that medicine doesn’t quite have. Whether this is a good or bad thing is merely a matter of preference.

I have no problems with homeopathic medicine, but in high-risk hospitals with high-risk situations, I suppose my expectations of treating the patient as needed would trump the bureaucratic way of doing things. We were told over and over again that this option wouldn’t be allowed because I wasn’t this many weeks and days pregnant. In hindsight, what should of happened is to just schedule the C-Section and get it over with. But even doing that wasn’t allowed to be done today since I am only 38 weeks and 3 days pregnant. I actually cried in the hospital due to the fact that I was in this useless situation playing the “German paperwork game” and no one is really listening to me, the mother, the patient. And if C-Section is just the way it needs to go, that’s fine! But please don’t run me all around giving me apricot juice instead. Do what is needed. Simple.

And for some of you out there thinking that I am a horrible mother for actually being okay with a C-Section and supporting my doctors’ recommendations for getting one, then let me share this last little bit with you specifically. I am 5 feet 2 inches tall. My belly is measuring almost 42 weeks even though I am 38 weeks. Try being put on bed rest, taking progesterone supplements for 8 weeks, having placenta previa issues, thyroid issues, amniotic fluid issues, added with a big baby boy, and THEN we can talk. I have done my job. I have done more than my job, and that is present in the fact that my child is not suffering and continues to thrive and grow despite what my body has been put through. I do not need a natural home birth to feel like a strong super mom. I do not need the bragging rights of going “epidural free” to feel like super mom. I do not need to vaginally deliver in order to feel like super mom. I have worn my super mom cape every single day of this pregnancy through the fears, scares, and tears, and knowing that I have kept my child alive to the point of even talking about the best way to deliver him is what makes me feel like super mom. I got him here. I fought through my pregnancy, and there is nothing that a mom with an easy breezy 6-pound baby pregnancy can say to make me feel any less proud of myself, my husband, and our pregnancy with our firstborn son. We did this together. And when that C-Section date comes in a few days, I will wake up that morning knowing that my hard work has paid off, and I will get to enjoy the sweet baby snuggles of my super boy and my super husband right next to me. 🙂

 

What I Will Miss/Not Miss About Pregnancy

After 35 weeks of being a human growing machine, my first pregnancy is coming to a close as we begin the final countdown to finally meeting our son!! I highly doubt I will EVER forget this experience, but I wanted to be sure to mention some of the things I will and will not miss about this pregnancy once it is over. Every woman’s body is different, and every woman’s body responds differently to each pregnancy. Some of these symptoms may not even be ones I experience in future pregnancies, but for the sake of documenting my life, here goes nothing!

(Beware: Some of these things are just downright disgusting, so if you judge me after reading this, then you may as well never get pregnant or be around pregnant women ever. Modesty and privacy just sort of go out the window with that first positive pregnancy test.)

I’ll get the not so fun ones out of the way, so here is…

What I will NOT Miss:

Shortness of breath: I love walking, and that is a good thing because I have to walk! I walk to the train from my house. I walk from the station to my school where I work. I walk A LOT. Walking everywhere has always been a way for me to keep in relatively decent shape even when I wasn’t trying to lose weight. The problem with walking while being pregnant is that the baby takes up the space you need to breathe normally! Callum, especially, has sat really high up on my belly pretty much the whole pregnancy. And with the ever expanding uterus that pretty much squashes your other vital organs in the process, it isn’t uncommon for me to put my hands and arms up to lengthen my chest to get a good, solid breath.

Swelling: Yeah, my face got HUGE once the third trimester kicked in. Healthy eating, drinking only water (aside from my daily almond milk), and exercise has not helped at all. My hands are beginning to swell a bit, too. My rings still fit, but they are definitely more snug than before. I’ll probably take them off soon just to be on the safe side.

Increased lower body fat: Despite walking, jogging, and doing pilates, my lower body fat has increased quite a bit, especially in my calves and the backs of my thighs. I don’t know if this is swelling or just plain fat. I know that pregnant women put on weight in the lower body, so I don’t know. My cute winter boots won’t zip up anymore, so that is fun in Germany during the winter months. Converse shoes are my go-to shoes for just about everything at this point.

Acne: At the beginning of my pregnancy, I really broke out. Then the acne went away, and my face was clear for a few weeks. This was a tease since I thought it meant I was going to be one of those glowing pregnancy goddesses without a pimple to be seen. NOPE! From around week 11 until about week 25, my face just stayed like a pepperoni pizza. It was nuts. I couldn’t use hard, medicated cleansers for my face. Even if I could, it wouldn’t have done much since the issue was hormonal. I am somewhat thankful for being on bed rest during much of this time since it meant very few out in public could see the mess that was my face. My face has cleared up significantly in later pregnancy, but I have now developed gnarly back acne that hasn’t gone away. OH, and pregnancy pimples HURT badly, so don’t even bother touching them.

Hair Loss: So I go against the old wives’ tale of being beautiful pregnant with a boy. Nope. Nope. Nope. I am convinced being pregnant with boys and loaded with their testosterone is what steals the mother’s beauty. My thick, lush hair is a thing of the past. Pregnancy greeted me with thin, oily hair that is so limp and lifeless. Also, my once thick eye brows have been thinning too. I thought maybe this was a low thyroid issue, but being on medication has not reduced the eyebrow or hair thinning at all. It’s just one of those super fun pregnancy things I guess.

Bathroom: I basically plan my day according to where I can use a bathroom.  When you have to go, you HAVE to go. My body cannot hold it at all. Luckily with Callum sitting so high up most of the pregnancy, I haven’t had his body weight pressing on my bladder as many other moms describe. I don’t usually feel pressure at all. It’s more just, “Oh look. I need to use the bathroom….AGAIN.” (TMI Warning!!!) In the third trimester, there has also been an increase in #2 bathroom trips. Supposedly, this is the body’s way of clearing out the bowels to make room before giving birth! I guess with my son being so big, my body needs lots of time to “make room”…. SO there’s that…

Finding winter maternity clothes I like: I said in the beginning that I wasn’t going to spend a lot on maternity clothes, and I haven’t. I bought about 3 or 4 nicer shirts for work, a few pairs of legging type pants, and that was really it. I still bum around the house in my pre-pregnancy t-shirts with my belly hanging out. I really enjoyed dressing the bump in summer since I already had an array of maxi dresses in various colors that worked great and kept me cool. But with winter, the style is to bundle up and hide the curves, which let me tell you, only makes you look larger as a pregnant woman. Empire waist and higher waist lines are just not in style right now.  What IS in style are these over-sized sweaters and sweatshirts that do little to flatter one’s figure. And everything is black!!  I have looked at ordering stuff online, but I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of ordering and returning it, which would most likely happen. I’m excited to wear clothes that have color again once the baby is born! (Okay, I know this isn’t really a physical symptom thing, but I still dislike it!)

Pantyliners: I’ll avoid the details, but definitely invest in some pantyliners…. Especially towards the end of pregnancy. Woah.

Anxiety and mood swings: All I have to do is read ONE potentially bad thing, and suddenly I am convinced my child has a condition or something is wrong. Anxiety over my baby’s health is not unexpected since we DID go through some intense moments in the pregnancy. But as the due date gets closer, I find myself more and more anxious about complications he may have or long-term problems he may have. It’s quite paralyzing since I then lose my appetite and can’t do much of anything for the rest of the day. I thought mood swings were just a joke, but oh no. I can go from super angry to super sad to super happy in a matter of 10 seconds or less on any given day at any given moment. It wasn’t so extreme earlier in the pregnancy, but the mood swings have definitely heightened for me in the third trimester. Word to the wise: Stay off the internet. Google is the devil.

Tummy Sleeping: I am self-proclaimed tummy sleeper. I love love love love it. And from about the end of the first trimester on, sleeping on your stomach is not recommended and eventually impossible with a big belly. Also, sleeping on your back is not recommended since you are then putting pressure on a major vein that is responsible for healthy blood flow for both mother and child. Basically you are stuck sleeping on your sides. This is fine after awhile, but constantly laying on one side can become really painful in the hips; shifting to the other side is a lot of work when you have a belly as big as mine. I am counting down to that first moment of getting to sleep on my stomach once again!

Food Cravings and needing to eat: Most women probably love this one, but for me, I really hate it. I miss being able to wake up, go hours without eating (I am one of the bad kids who skipped breakfast every day), and be able to just focus on life and work without NEEDING food. I later learned that I needed to eat more calories than I was pre-pregnancy in order to give the baby everything he needed to grow (which also contributed to more weight gain since I was considered underweight for my build pre-baby. Go figure!) So remembering to make myself eat has been a task for me as I admittedly forgot to eat and often skipped meals before I was pregnant. Also, the food I HAVE been craving is just not food that is readily available in Germany. I crave meat all day every day and have done so since the beginning! Nothing sounds more appetizing than a stack of ribs, pulled pork, a GOOD hamburger, and more. Mexican food has also been a major craving…. Make that spicy Mexican food with loads of meat. Another one that I have had is hot and sour soup commonly found in US Chinese restaurants. German restaurants serving any of these foods are just not very good in my humble opinion, so my craving is never satisfied. I have found things that are similar in taste, but nothing really “hits the spot” as we say in English. I totally recommend being pregnant in your home country where your taste buds were formed JUST for the purpose of being able to eat the food you want to eat during pregnancy!

Body Image Issues: I’ve briefly touched on this a bit in previous points, but the weight gain can be a bit traumatic at first. You will lose your waist line. You may get stretch marks. Parts of your body will expand or thicken up, and none of this is easily accepted in a culture that promotes  skinny and bikini-ready physiques EVEN during pregnancy.  And of course, when you see photos of fitness guru women with tiny bumps who make pregnancy (and post-pregnancy) look like something on the cover of a magazine, it’s easy to beat yourself up and even insult yourself thinking you are the weird, fat woman who looks like a beached whale. I made very sure to ignore those thoughts, despite how loud they blared in my head from time to time. ESPECIALLY after losing 100 pounds over the past few years, it would be too easy to think, “Okay, well there goes THAT hard work all for nothing.” But like I said, I ignored that. I have the rest of my life to lose baby weight. I have only 10 months maximum to grow this baby. You tell me what is more important to focus on. The stupidest thing a pregnant woman can do is starve her child, and sadly, I read about too many moms with babies who are malnourished for this very reason! Pregnancy is NOT for the faint of heart. Not to say you won’t lose baby weight after the pregnancy, but be mentally and emotionally prepared to accept the new physical changes that come with the new mom changes. Your body will be different, but it will be even better than it was before. It may not be skinnier, but it is definitely stronger. It grew a life.

So, let’s move on the happy stuff, shall we?

What I WILL miss:

Laughter: This has been one of my favorite things about pregnancy. I laugh hard, and I laugh often. I’m not just talking about a little chuckle here and there. I am talking about those fantastic hardcore belly laughs that work every muscle in your body and leave your face sore in the aftermath. It doesn’t take a whole lot to just send me laughing so hard to the point of tears. When I really get going, it makes Roman laugh hysterically, too. At first I was worried that I would hurt the baby, but now I figure he just thinks it’s a mama earthquake he experiences regularly at this point. Aww, I can’t wait to hear his sweet baby laugh.

Nails: My nails are usually quite strong, but pregnancy has made them even stronger. And my how quickly they grow!

Less leg hair: Starting somewhere in the later weeks of my second trimester, the hair on my legs just stopped growing. I HATE prickly legs, and I used to shave my legs every day to prevent any prickles. Due to habit, it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I actually realized I didn’t need to shave my legs as often anymore! Now, I shave them maybe once a week. I truly believe this is God’s way of helping pregnant women not need to bend so much. Woohoo raging hormones!! 🙂

“The Glow”: My cheeks have this extra little rosy tint to them. I haven’t had to wear as much makeup and despite being as big as an apartment complex (because a single house is just too small), I feel really beautiful overall. I love that you can see a mother’s love on her face while she is growing her little one inside. 🙂 I’ve heard that mothers who adopt also experience this. How beautiful is that?!!

Body Temperature Increase: Being pregnant this time of year has been awesome! Your body temperature naturally increases during pregnancy, and even on super cold days in Germany, I am never cold!! I used to have to bundle up with layers upon layers. Honestly, I never bought a maternity coat! I just wear my regular coat, leave it unzipped, put on a long scarf, and BAM! I’m as warm as I need to be. And the truth be told, I have actually been TOO hot with a coat on! On many days, I don’t wear a coat at all!

Feeling the baby kick: The first time I felt Callum move was when we were coming off of bed rest at 15 weeks, and I played Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing” on YouTube. I thought for sure I imagined it since 15 weeks is really early for a first baby. But sure enough about 20 seconds later, I felt it again. THAT was when it took my breath away in sheer wonder and amazement. Since that moment, his kicks have gone from playful random jabs to hardcore techno rave parties, and I love every single one. Callum LOVES his father, and he plays games with Roman when Roman is speaking to him. It is so amazing to see Roman pushing one part of my belly, then Callum will move to that spot and nudge back. Roman will then pick another spot to push down, and Callum follows him and pushes that exact spot back. This goes on and on and on, and it makes me so happy to see my boys so connected already. I joke with Roman that they have a secret boys’ club, and I didn’t get the invitation. Booo.

Closeness to Roman: I didn’t think this was even possible, but I am even more in love with my husband than ever! There is something about seeing him interact with our baby, being so dedicated to his roles as a husband and father, and just his sheer sexiness that just makes me swoon for him over and over again. I miss him when he isn’t with me. And when we are together, I am usually right next to him. Knowing that we have a baby together has definitely changed the dynamic in our relationship. I no longer see him as just Roman, my husband. I see him as my husband and the father of our child together. It puts a whole new role in Roman’s life and gives me a whole new reason to love him. I know that having a baby often puts a strain on marriages and it will certainly change ours. But this baby (and any future babies) will be the most beautiful and perfect thing we will ever create in our marriage, and that just feels really huge! One of the biggest reasons I love my son so much is because he is forever connected to the man I love most in the world, his papa.

Personal growth and acceptance: When you know you are bringing a person into this world, it is only natural to look at life and look at yourself in a different way. I want Callum to have the very best mom he can possibly have. That is the gift I will give my son until the day I die. The first step in doing that is first accepting and loving myself. That hasn’t been easy in my life, and it hasn’t been easy even in the pregnancy. I put a lot of pressure on myself and expect way more than I probably should. Learning to let go of the insecurities and physical “flaws” has been the most empowering part of this journey. When my son is a tiny, little boy, I know he will look at me and think I am the most beautiful woman in the world in his precious eyes. I would never want to tear myself down, especially in front of him, and show him what flaws and physical insecurities look like. I’ve had to get myself in line, and I am really proud of the progress I have made thus far. And when I have those not so good days, I just remind myself that this kid is alive because of this body I call my own, and nothing is more incredible than that.

The heightened “Mama sense”: This amazingly began before I even had proof of my pregnancy. Something in my gut just told me I was pregnant before I even took a pregnancy test. I was printing out art for a picture frame, and a few days before I even took the test, something told me to select this one particular print of a pregnant woman bearing a child. I have no idea WHY I did this, but I definitely chalk it up to the “Mama sense” telling me something incredible was going on within. From that moment, I have had the most on point sense about pretty much everything with my child. I knew exactly when we needed to go to the doctor to get help when things weren’t good (despite being told I was just fine). I have trusted my instinct completely, and it has been incredibly accurate. When Roman and I first met the midwife who will do our home visits after the birth, she asked if I wanted her to check the heartbeat while we were at her office. We said yes, and she began to put the doppler wand on my belly in search of a heartbeat. She never found one, and I told her she had it in the wrong place. She said, “Babies are usually here though.” I responded with, “I promise you. He’s on the right side. His heart is right there.” She moved the wand to where I had pointed, and sure enough, there he was! She quickly laughed and said, “He’s in a really odd position! You certainly know your baby!” Yes, yes I do. I’ve always been fascinated by animals giving birth and how mothers just KNOW what to do for their infants without any instruction or manual. Not to get super National Geographic or anything, but it always just amazed me how the instinct rules childbirth and parenting in nature. We as humans have books, language, doctors, family, and friends to provide insight, so having this new instinct of my own kind of brings me back to the realization that we as mothers are amazingly still animals when it comes to childbirth and babies. Some things are just always the same regardless of species.

Wow, this just got real!

Several months ago as I was nearing my 20th week of pregnancy, we were told (well, more like warned) by the midwife at my doctor’s office that we really needed to find a “Geburtsvorbereitungskurs” (birthing prep class) soon because they tend to fill up quickly. I initially dismissed the rush of it all simply because, hey, I had 20 weeks until this kid was coming, right? My only knowledge about birthing classes back home was that they were offered by hospitals on a regular basis each month, so I figured, I would have plenty of time to find one here. Um, wrong. Apparently, the norm around here is to sign up for birthing classes with midwives as soon as you clear the 1st trimester, and if you do wait much longer, you certainly don’t wait until the 19th week. This really surprised me, but really it made sense. You booked the course, and if the pregnancy didn’t continue for whatever reason, you simply cancelled your spot. Roman and I felt a lot of pressure to find a course because by that math, we were already weeks late in finding a course for our pregnancy time frame. My mom friends here highly recommended them, and I really wanted to feel as prepared as possible for a first-time mom delivering a baby in a country that isn’t her home.

The other really important task was finding a midwife who would come to my apartment the first 8 weeks after birth to check on me and the baby, check our physical health and progress, help with breastfeeding issues, help with establishing a relationship between mother and child, and of course, to check on the mother’s mental and emotional state to help mom get whatever postpartum help she needs during this period in Germany known as “Wochenbett.” It literally translates to English as “bed weeks” because back in the day, women literally stayed in bed after giving birth while the family handled the day-to-day tasks of her life. She just had to focus on recovering and being a mom. The Germans kept this term to basically mean the weeks following delivery. Again, this is something I knew I really wanted to have. I always looked at this midwife coming to my home thing as my support system here. I would most likely just be another one of her patients, but to me, she would be the constant I knew I would need to figure all of this out with my own support network so far away from me. And the best part is, our insurance covers this completely! (Insurance also covers the birthing courses, too.)

By the sheer grace of God, luckily the midwives at my doctor’s office told me that I didn’t need to worry about finding a midwife for my postpartum care. They would find one for me within their group of midwives from their company. I did, however, need to find a birthing class. Luckily, we contacted that same midwife company that employs the midwives at my doctor’s office, and we were able to get a spot in their January couple’s weekend course. I remember thinking about how I would be 34 weeks when the course came up, and how it felt so far away back when we signed up for  it mid-October! But we had our course yesterday, and it was so worth every bit of stress getting it all organized!

Roman and I woke up bright and early Saturday morning and made our way into Stuttgart for our all-day course. For some reason, we were both incredibly nervous. I, especially, was nervous. My vocabulary skills, while greatly improved in medical jargon the past few months, were still not my strong suit. I was just really nervous that I would feel totally behind. I really need to give myself more credit when it comes to speaking German, especially since at the end of course, I can safely say I understood 98% of what was said and discussed without any language barrier issues.

When we first walked in, there were a few things that surprised me. The first being that OUR midwife who would be coming to our house during the Wochenbett period just so happened to be the midwife leading the course for our group! Roman and I had an appointment with her before, so we were already introduced and knew each other. However, it was just extra reassuring to have several hours observing her, listening to her style, and getting more comfortable with this person who would become so important to me and our baby. I left the course feeling very reassured that we were in capable hands. The second thing was that I was one of the furthest along in my pregnancy. There was one other couple in their 36th week and then us in our 34th.  We must have been the slackers in the group! Everyone else in the course was around 26-28 weeks. The third thing was that Roman and I were the youngest in the course by A LOT. The oldest first-time dad-to-be was 42. My husband just turned 28. As far as the women go, most everyone was between 35-37 years old. The next youngest after me was a woman who was 33. Again, this points to a very strong difference in culture between Germany and America. Germans tend to live with their partners for a long time and THEN proceed into marriage after successfully living together for years and years. The average age to get married is well after 30. And of course, you only want to bring a baby into the marriage once you know 200% that the marriage has been, is, and will be successful. This is such a contrast to my American culture, where people can get married on a whim without much hesitation and using feelings as validation for such a decision. It is because of this reason that Germans frequently discredit American marriages as somehow being less “official” or to be taken less seriously. And really, if you compare our average dating/engagement length plus the amount of legal weight lifting one has to do to get married here in Germany in the first place, they have a perfectly valid point. There is no quick “let’s go to the courthouse” wedding in Germany. You have to work for it and get permission to do so months in advance! As for children, Germans typically have much smaller families. 1-2 children is the norm. Because families are smaller, there isn’t really the rush to make a family before the biological clock runs out. It’s perfectly normal for couples to get married at 31, have a baby at 33, and then be finished.

I think Roman and I felt a bit uncomfortable in the course at first. I was really happy that we took the class together. We learned a lot which really surprised me. I honestly expected to know everything since I have been babysitting since I was in the 5th grade and even majored in child development in college. But I learned a lot about German parenting. For example, midwives here strongly recommend not using baby wipes at home. You can use them when out in public, but not at home. We learned so much about the pregnancy experience and the birthing experience. We learned and discussed the different things that would alert us that labor is coming, and we learned the proper warning signs for a lot of serious conditions and what to do to reduce trauma to both mother and child in those situations. If our baby is breech, we know what to do if I go into spontaneous labor since the risks of umbilical prolapse are much greater, for example. To be honest, a lot of this stuff I just didn’t want to read about because I didn’t want to think about it. So it was nice to have a professional talk to us openly and honestly about the very real possibilities that can make childbirth a somewhat scary experience.

We also talked a lot about contractions. Aside from learning and practicing breathing techniques, we learned why we have contractions, why they are important to feel (even if really painful), and ways to reduce the pain when experiencing them. Oddly enough, after the course I honestly thought to myself, “Man, I can’t wait to feel the waves of contractions.” (…. So I say now….) Germans definitely prefer a more natural approach than the more medical birthing approach like back in the States. A significant portion of our course was about confronting the physical pain we will inevitably feel and confronting the stigma surrounding it that makes handling the pain more difficult. It was incredibly empowering to experience and work through this with my husband who was also learning the best approaches to helping me get through the pain and understanding what I need. It was really adorable to occasionally turn to Roman and watch him listening and taking detailed notes. He’s already been an incredible husband taking it upon himself to get things for me so that I can rest more and offering fabulously long back rubs and body massages since he knows my lower back is really starting to hurt now. I really appreciate that he doesn’t even ask. He just does it for me.

Our midwife talked a lot about the fears moms have when giving birth, and she spent a long time helping us work through those fears and why having them isn’t helpful in the birthing process. Aside from Roman handing me ice or water to sip on or applying chap stick when needed, he’s been given the task of helping me stay calm and helping me concentrate and focus. The percentage of women having an epidural is much much smaller here than in the US, so the partner plays a very key role in reducing stress and fear, the very things that make the pain worse! As for the women, we were taught that feeling contractions is good and it means the baby is coming soon. We should breathe through them, use mental imagery, and focus rather than be afraid of them or try to prevent feeling them. We have to accept that it will hurt and obviously know that it will not be pleasant, but the level of pain and how we process it is in our control. And of course, trust in ourselves, trust in our partner, and trust in God to get through it. Again, it is a very different approach to what I would consider “the norm.” And should the pain be too unbearable, epidurals (or “PDA” in German) and other forms of pain management are there for us to have and to use without criticism.

Our hands down favorite part of the course was when the midwife used props to mimic the birthing process. She went into great detail about where the baby is and what the baby is doing as each centimeter expands and each contraction hits. She gave an incredibly realistic portrayal of what it will feel like, the feelings we will experience in the process, and again, how to keep focused on the job at hand. It was around this time that something strange started happening inside of me. And interestingly enough, it happened to Roman at the exact same time. Suddenly, for the first time in probably the whole pregnancy, the actual idea of becoming parents and having a baby became very real to us. Like suddenly this light bulb went off in our heads that this was no longer theoretical talk about what happens in childbirth. This was happening to us, and it would be happening very soon. We were going to be parents. Wait no. We ARE parents. It was such a powerful moment for me, and I knew it was equally intense for Roman as he put his arm around my shoulder to reach for my hand to squeeze it tightly. I started getting tears in my eyes as I watched this baby doll enter the world and take its first breath of life. This will be my son in a few short weeks. I will get to see my son’s face after months of wondering what he looks like and what his personality will be like. I’m finally meeting the little boy that stole my heart and changed me from being a woman and a wife to a mother for the first time. Does he know how much he is loved? Does he know that without even trying, he has his mommy and his papa so completely wrapped around his tiny fingers? Are Roman and I really ready and fit to be parents to this little boy so perfect in every way that he was created and designed just for us? All of these thoughts of love just consumed me, and I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than to be in that delivery room meeting our sweet Callum for the first time.

Perhaps it’s because we’ve had some really difficult moments in the pregnancy. Perhaps it’s because he is our first baby, and we have no prior experience bringing children into this world. Perhaps it’s because we had to fight a bit more for our baby than so many others we have encountered, but we have never taken any of this pregnancy for granted. Not one bit of it. This child is so loved and so wanted. Every good day was a day we celebrated together. Every milestone and every step forward was a moment cherished and a moment given by God, and we learned to celebrate even the tiniest of achievements because our son was making it. He was going to live! He told us from day one that he was going to make it. And while my heart felt so scared to really trust it, in time I have learned to really trust my son and trust in him. More than cute, happy baby kicks moms feel and experience, he and I have a relationship that has been tested and has been through Hell and back. And while I know our real journey is just beginning in a few short weeks, what we have overcome together, he and I, is all of the inspiration I need in that delivery room as the contractions hit. After months of waiting, after months of specialists, after months of tears and stress, extra tests, doctors appointments and more, our son is finally coming into this world in a few short weeks. What a miracle he is! I am just so fortunate to be his mother.

Welcome, 2014!

It isn’t often that Roman and I spend New Year’s Eve together alone at home. In fact, over the past 5 years of celebrating this holiday together, we have never spent it by ourselves at home until this year. We’ve either been in the States, celebrating with friends, or like last year ringing in the new year standing at the Eiffel Tower in beautiful Paris, France. With my exhaustion from being 32 (now 33) weeks pregnant and with Roman taking advantage of his down time during the holidays, we decided to just keep it simple this year. Just the two of us, a home cooked meal, mindless television, pajamas, and our super-sized comfy sofa. It didn’t quite and still doesn’t feel possible that 2014 is already here. So much has taken shape since last year and our beautiful honeymoon/New Year’s trip in Paris. Roman and I brought up memories from last year during our New Year’s Eve dinner. “Remember how packed with people it was?” “Remember how it started to drizzle?” “Remember how we expected fireworks, but Paris doesn’t put on a fireworks show? So we watched the Eiffel Tower twinkle for about 30 seconds instead?” “Remember how it was impossible to catch a Metro back to our hotel, so we had to walk for miles to find the nearest train to get us home that didn’t have thousands upon thousands of people pushing and shoving?” It was quite an eventful way to begin 2013.

What I remember most about that New Year’s Eve in Paris was the “resolution” I made right then and there, with my husband’s arms around me, an umbrella over my head, and the Eiffel Tower’s sparkling glory in front of me. I held my husband close, and I closed my eyes. And in that moment surrounded by millions of people, I was completely alone in my thoughts as if no one else was around. Time stood still, and the world stopped moving. This would be our year. This year would change us for the better. This year would be the year that would make us parents. It felt like a long shot, but my heart felt convinced. I pulled Roman’s face close to mine, and I said,”Let’s have a baby.” He smiled, and we shared our first kiss of 2013.

So much has happened since that moment. The biggest thing was finding out that we would become parents.  I often think about that night and standing at the Eiffel Tower as the definitive moment in my life of somehow feeling “ready” to be a mom. And last night as we watched the night sky light up with fireworks across our quaint, German village, I rubbed my belly and welcomed not only 2014 with my husband, but our sweet son as well. We wished for him last year, and we are waiting for him this year. It feels so surreal to see 2014 pop up everywhere knowing this is the year we have waited months for. Knowing this is the year of our son’s birth makes us both even more excited than we thought possible. He’ll be here in a few short weeks, and we are just too excited to focus on much of anything else.

I’m not much of a person to make an active resolution at the start of the new year since I usually forget about it a few weeks later. But I am a person who likes to put out my “hopes” for the year and what I wish for us instead. 2014 will undoubtedly bring the biggest changes to our lives. My one hope this year is that Roman and I tread through the sleepless nights, doctor appointments, poop, and vomit fests like champs. All jokes aside, I just hope that we learn to adapt to this new phase in our lives while remaining good stewards of our faith, true to ourselves, committed to our marriage, and being the best parents we can be to this little boy we will meet in less than 7 weeks.  And if we stumble and fall along the way, it will certainly make for a lot of laughs and many memories in this crazy little thing called parenthood.

Welcome, 2014. We are ready for ya’.

My Christmas Miracle

With all of the commotion of life and expecting a baby in a few short weeks, Christmas this year was put on the back burner in our minds. Roman and I don’t buy each other gifts, but even our tradition of filling up an Advent calendar for each other was pushed aside. We decided that we would keep things as simple as possible this year to save some money and really put everything into what the baby’s needs are. I put up a few decorations that we have accumulated over the past three Christmases together and listened to some Christmas music, but much of the focus of Christmas was simply not in our thoughts. While at Roman’s parents’ house, his mom offered us her Kindergarten’s Christmas tree that they would be getting rid of. At first, we declined the tree simply because it seemed like a hassle. But something inside of me missed the idea of hanging our ornaments and really enjoying this last Christmas as a family of two before we become a family of three in less than 8 weeks.

Roman and I picked up the tree, and we promptly brought it home to begin decorating. As I pulled out each ornament, my heart instantly went back to the memories of where those ornaments came from–The airplane ornament from 2010, the year I moved to Germany. The ornament with Jackson Square and the St. Louis Cathedral from 2011, the year and location of our engagement. The ornament with the Esslingen Rathaus, the building of our German wedding from 2012. The bride and groom ornament from our 2012 New Orleans wedding. The painted egg from our 2013 Budapest trip. The Eiffel Tower ornament from our Paris honeymoon. And now, the ornament of Katie and Roman expecting a baby this Christmas in 2013. After I hung our pregnancy ornament, I realized that it was the last ornament I placed on our simple yet beautiful Christmas tree. I hugged my husband as we stood and looked at our tree. It was almost like looking at our past and taking in this most sacred moment one last time before moving on to the future with new roles, new titles, new responsibilities, and our brand new son. We stood quietly looking at this tree filled with our memories which made it the most beautiful tree in the whole world. 

I instantly felt overwhelmed with a sense of blessing that just brought me to tears in my husband’s firm hug. Of all that I could ever want in this world, I have absolutely everything I need. Perhaps it was the tree. Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones. Perhaps it was just the realization that this was our last Christmas as simply Katie and Roman, but something brought me to my knees in front of our Christmas tree as I wept in thanks. Of all that has tested us this year, I could only give thanks. Thanks that we grew stronger. Thanks that we made it. Thanks that in my body at this very moment is a human being living, moving, kicking, and growing because of a love for me far greater than anything I could ever imagine, yet a love I instantly understood as soon as I found out I was pregnant. This baby wasn’t “planned” according to our time, but he was meant for us and planned a long long time ago. We were simply lucky enough to receive the gift of his life.

I find myself still awake tonight watching the clock as it moves from December 24th to December 25th. It’s Christmas, and my son is 32 weeks today. He isn’t quite ready for the world just yet, but I often think about what that moment will be like when he is ready to take his first breath of life. It will be a moment he will never remember, but it will be a moment that Roman and I will never forget. In the spirit of Christmas, I find myself thinking about the birth of Christ and what the Virgin Mary must have felt in the months and minutes before her own son’s birth. Did she feel exhausted after being on her feet all day like me? Did she have fears about delivering a baby hundreds of miles from her home like me? Did she sometimes get lost in translation by a dialect different than her own like I do? Did she worry about being worthy enough for such a child the way I feel? And what about Joseph, a character central in the reasoning behind my own son’s middle name. Did he worry about being able to protect and provide for this child he was given the responsibility for like my own husband does? Did he feel sick to his stomach seeing Mary in pain that he couldn’t take away the way Roman felt and probably will feel? I can’t imagine the wide range of emotions they must have both felt knowing that this tiny, perfect, loved little boy would grow up to live and ultimately suffer a most painful death. I selfishly hope my child never knows such extreme pain in his lifetime, but I too in a much lesser sense, know that my child will grow up and experience pain in his life that I can’t protect him from.

On this quiet, silent night with my husband fast asleep, I lay awake with my son so sweetly kicking me letting me know he’s awake. This is our special time together, he and I. I always thought I understood the meaning of Christmas, but I think being so heavily pregnant during this holiday has given me a perspective that perhaps I had never had before. It isn’t just about the birth of Jesus Christ. It’s about a young woman selflessly giving her body for 10 months to give life to another human being.  It’s about a young woman scared about what the future holds, trusting in her faith to get her through a labor and delivery that would change the world, hers in particular. It’s about the love of a young man who selflessly loved a woman so much so that he would move mountains to protect her and the child within her womb. It’s simply about love. 

I don’t know if I will ever be pregnant over Christmas again. I don’t know if my body will allow me to healthily carry another child again. I don’t know what will happen, but I know that this moment, this very moment right now, is my happiness. Roman and I don’t exchange Christmas presents, but he gave me the biggest and most amazing gift I could ever ask for. This little boy is our miracle. This little boy has fought and overcome more in his short little life than I would ever wish for him to go through, and unfortunately, some of those things are because of my body. But if my pregnancy with him holds any meaning in this world, it is that miracles do happen. And while it is hard to feel and hard to grasp in a world filled with so much that sometimes feels like too much to bear, Christmas comes back around every year with ornaments on the tree as reminders of where you have been and what you have overcome. This is the last Christmas of celebrating with just my husband, but it is also the last Christmas of celebrating while pregnant with our son. I am taking in these last few weeks of being pregnant with him now and cherishing the kicks and rolls, and even the heartburn and shortness of breath, too. Time passes so quickly, and before we even blink our eyes, Christmas will come around once again. But next time, we’ll have a 10-month old little boy named Callum Joseph celebrating Christmas for the very first time in his life. 

Merry Christmas, baby boy.

What NOT to say to me!

While some women LOVE to proudly show their baby bellies, exposing mine actually makes me a bit nervous.  Suddenly, there is this very physical sign (well, like a billboard in my case!) that there is a person inside of me that I must love and protect. It makes me feel vulnerable and well, exposed. I also get a lot of attention in my daily life riding trains and walking through city centers. Suddenly, I am noticed when before, I could easily blend in with the crowd. With the attention of the belly and being pregnant, people also love to make comments which more often than not, come off as being a back-handed insult. So here is a list of some of the things I have been told that frankly, just irritate the mess out of me! (Some of these are from total strangers. Others are not.)

1. “You must be having twins!” What this really translates to is, “Wow, you are a giant cow!” People, listen. I am short. Really short. My husband is just about 6 1/2 feet tall. REALLY short woman carrying REALLY tall man’s baby…. Which happens to be a really long baby boy himself measuring three weeks ahead in weight and length than the average baby. Yeah, it’s going to show on my body. A nice, “Wow, you look nice!” would be more appropriate even if a lie. Anything else? Shush.

2. “You are crazy for cloth diapering. It was more important for me to spend time with my baby than scrape poop from her diapers. We used disposables.”  No, I am not insane. No, I will probably not celebrate and dance at the idea of scraping poop out of diapers. However, I love cloth diapering, and I strongly believe in it. My husband believes in it. I won’t get into the reasons of why we chose to do this for our son because frankly, I don’t want to come off as judgmental and critical of parents who don’t cloth diaper. I don’t really care what you choose for your child.  It’s a personal choice. Everyone else’s opinions are simply not important. But make no mistake, this decision has nothing to do with loving my child less. That is just ignorance and insecurity talking.

3. “You are going to breastfeed, right?”  Translation: “If you don’t, you are the worst mother in the world.” I would love to be able to do this. Before I was even pregnant, I was bombarded with the “breast is best” message loud and clear.  However, I have PCOS and am currently taking thyroid medication. Exclusively breastfeeding, if at all, may not be an option for me. You, stranger on the street, don’t know what I have been through in this pregnancy. How about you not assume I am a gigantic idiot who has NO idea about infant nutrition. That way, if I can’t breastfeed, I am not blaming myself for the next two years calling myself a bad mother. Instead, I can be proactive in finding the best alternative. I am in contact with a lactation specialist already, and I am also looking into certified breast milk banks to perhaps get breast milk if I cannot produce enough myself. When it comes to something like breastfeeding, we really do women a disservice by saying things like this. Breast size has no impact on the ability to breastfeed. There is no way to know if you will or will not successfully feed until after the baby is born. I have met so many women who fought hard battles in the breastfeeding game only to end up severely depressed and defeated when unable to do what the world tells her is “best for her baby.” We need to do better at supporting moms, all moms, and hopefully, it will help erase some of the self-doubt that sits in our heads. There should be less focus on what the WORLD claims is “best” and more focus on what is the best for each individual mother and infant.

4. “You better get an epidural.” Now, this one is a bit difficult. I have asked several close friends about their birthing experiences. Moms that had epidurals seemed to really enjoy them. If I ASK you ahead of time, then obviously I am seeking real advice and personal insight here. If I don’t ask, then really, I don’t want to know. As far as the epidural is concerned, I still have no strong opinion either way about getting one. I am not against one, but I am not strongly for one either. I plan on going into this not expecting one and just trying to see how long I can go without one. If I want one in the process, I won’t beat myself up over it. I’ll go natural for as long as I want to, then choose to have one if I feel I need it. If I don’t reach that point, then I won’t get one.  I don’t think a woman is stronger for going natural, nor do I think it makes a woman weak for opting for an epidural. Every woman, every delivery, and every baby is different. No need for judgment either way, ladies.

5. “My son ripped my lady parts in so many places! Peeing was terrible for months!” Yeeeah, this was a fun conversation I had with an older woman on the U-Bahn leaving work one Friday afternoon. It was especially entertaining considering it was rush hour, and the U-Bahn was packed with men making horrible faces at the gory details described to me. It’s probably just best to keep all anatomical ripping conversations to a minimum in public. Well, unless you really want a way to make grown men nearly pass out in your presence.

6. “Is the baby your husband’s?”  No. It’s just half him genetically. I mean, really?? I am more than happily married and more than honored to bring into the world this tiny person that is forever connected to my husband. Moving on.

7. “You are pregnant and not married?” Now, I have gotten this from much much older women in public before. Younger generations don’t ask this. This is probably because I wear my wedding ring on my left ring finger, which is the American way, as opposed to the German way, which is wearing the ring on the right ring finger. Regardless, a woman being married or not doesn’t make an ounce of a difference in whether or not she will be a good mother. Some of the most amazing women I know are fantastic single moms and have been since their children were infants. And seriously? It’s none of your business. Who cares?

8. “You are putting money away for the baby’s college right? Now, everything is all about the baby.” I’ll admit. Hearing this one was emotionally hard for me to hear, and I broke down in tears about 10 minutes after that conversation ended. I couldn’t just shake this one off. Roman and I have had to pay an exuberant amount in taxes this year, way more than we could have ever imagined. I’ve already discussed these issues before in previous posts, but it wiped out so much of what we had saved for our future family. When we found out we were pregnant with Callum, we were right in the heat of the taxes situation. You would not believe the amount of guilt and depression I felt when I realized that not only were we not going to be buying this or that for our first born, but we simply couldn’t. We were both heartbroken and honestly, we beat ourselves up feeling like horrible parents who didn’t deserve a baby in the first place. Are we putting away loads of money into Callum’s college fund right now? No, we aren’t. We both feel it is more important that he has a safe car and car seat first. We are slowly but surely picking up the pieces and putting everything back together again, and I am really proud of us for this. (According to our tax outlook for 2014, there is no way we will have to pay what we did this year. After all, I am birthing a German citizen…. I’ll just leave it at that….)

9. “Europeans don’t circumcise newborn boys as often as they do in the States, right? You are going to circumcise your son right? He’ll get made fun of here in the US if you don’t!” I hate this topic more than you could imagine. This is such a personal decision, and really, it isn’t anyone’s business what we decide. I will defend the European point of view though and state that there are no medical reasons that make circumcision necessary which is why circumcision is not a routine procedure here. I have contacted over 60 physicians (Yes, 60!–Just doing my research as a mom before putting my child under the knife) all over America asking about any need so great to perform the procedure to make it medically necessary to find a doctor who can do this to my son. Not one of them said it was needed. The only thing 7 American doctors told me is that there are some studies that show males may be less likely to contract HIV if having unprotected sex than males who still have a foreskin. You know what else makes it less likely? Not having unprotected sex! And the good Lord better protect my son from ME if I find out he is being so careless with his body that way!!! Interestingly enough, more than 35 of the American doctors did tell me that the numbers of parents opting for the procedure have been decreasing rapidly in recent years. Many stated the reason behind it was surgeons botching the procedure causing babies to have more procedures to fix the mistakes made in the first surgery. Essentially, doctors mess up a lot more than people wish to admit. I just thought this was some interesting information worth sharing for anyone interested. Again, choose what you want. We’ll do the same.

10. “Say goodbye to your freedom.” I know this is probably very well meaning, and I also know that moms say this because time and priorities change once you become a mom. I know that everything will change. I know it. I know that I can’t just do what I want to do because it conflicts with nap time, a feeding, or simply because getting a baby ready to leave the house is just so dang hard sometimes. But even as a mom, I will take some time out for myself. I think that is especially important BECAUSE I will be a mom. I know that Roman has a demanding schedule, but no one’s life will change more in this process than mine. Roman will still go to work where everyone knows him as an individual. He will still have his MBA program to better his life and his career. He will come home from work and really be able to choose which baby tasks he wants to handle, and he will be able to pass off Callum when he feels like it. In general, moms don’t get that ability to just hand off the baby. We are stuck. While I am really excited and ready for this new and forever phase of being a mom, I am not ready nor willing to let go of simply being Katie. If it means I hire a babysitter for a few hours a week to go teach a class at night and be with other adults, I will do it. If it means I ask my mother-in-law to come babysit so I can attend a German course during the week, I’ll do it.  If it means I leave Callum with Roman on a Sunday so I can have an hour-long walk by myself in the fresh air, I will do it. Being a mom will change my time. It will not change my thoughts, my opinions, or my skills in things other than being a mom. I am who I am, and I don’t want to lose this person because she is pretty great and worth keeping around. And when all of the babies are older, in school, and not really needing mom the way they do when they are little, I can pick back up where I left off as simply a better person, not an entirely different one.

11. “Say goodbye to your marriage.” I have gotten this comment a few times, and I LOATHE it. No one, except for the two of us in the marriage, has an ounce of an idea about what our marriage is like. Roman and I are bound by something greater than even our child. We are bound together in a Sacrament made in front of God, our family, and our friends that we made long before Callum was in the picture. We hoped and dreamed for Callum, and he will be loved and given more affection than any child in the history of the world. But our marriage does not and will not begin or end with Callum. He isn’t IN our marriage. His parents are. Callum came FROM our marriage. Long after Callum moves out of the house, Roman and I are still going to be married. Some might greatly disagree with this, but our marriage must come first, even before our children. Roman is the number one in my life just as I am in his. This doesn’t mean we will deny time and attention to our kids by any means. What it does mean, is that in order to be the best parents we can possibly be, we have to have the best marriage we can possibly have since it is the very root and foundation of our family. There will be date nights. There will be time away from our son. There will be adult conversations and things that don’t even involve Callum. Our kids will be better off in the long run having a happy mom and dad who still love each other and are best friends with one another long after they are grown up and perhaps married themselves. We are their first example of love, and we take this very seriously. I know that our roles will change, and I know that our marriage will bend over the years. It’s allowed to go through hard times. It’s allowed to just flat out stink sometimes. It’s allowed to bend. It just can’t break.

Third Trimester & Giving Thanks

Last Wednesday (November 27) marked a very special day for us and our family. It began my 28th week of pregnancy and the official start of my third trimester.  There is something really bittersweet in knowing I am beginning the last trimester of my first pregnancy in my life. I am more than excited to meet CalPal’s sweet face in February, but I find myself already missing the little kicks and movements Callum makes when he hears his Papa’s voice or the looooong stretches he makes when he’s waking up from a nap. We have a bit of a routine, he and I, and despite the hardships we have overcome, this little boy has redefined my whole entire view of my marriage, myself, and the world in all of the best ways possible. There will hopefully be other babies in our future, but this pregnancy, this baby, is our first – the one that started it all and changed everything in our lives. This is the one that made me a mother. This is the one that made Roman a father. This is the one that made us a family.

Even in the hard times, I always said to Roman that I wanted to remember the good things from being pregnant with Callum. I don’t want him to ever think of his story as any kind of burden because he wasn’t. He is so worth every bit and more. And looking back on this time, I don’t remember any of the bad times. I just remember the amazing moments from growing my son, and everything else was a learning experience that will undoubtedly make me the best mom I can possibly be to him and his future brothers and sisters. When I was on bed rest and things were looking really bad, a dear friend of mine, who is a pediatric surgeon and specializes in neonatal surgery, kept telling me, “Just get to 28 weeks. Just get to 28 weeks. Anything after that is icing on the cake.” Finally, we have hit 28 weeks, and this is a special moment for me personally and the biggest reason I have to simply give thanks this year.

I don’t think it was just a coincidence that Callum’s 28-week milestone came the day before Thanksgiving in the United States. From the beginning of this pregnancy, nothing has been just a coincidence. Callum’s due date just so happens to be the 5-year anniversary of the day I met his father back in Tuscaloosa many years ago. We just so happened to get pregnant within a month of moving into our new apartment despite being told it would take time and fertility treatment. Even his name was a sign that we were just open to listen to. I am so thankful that in spite of my need to control what goes on in my life, I am thankful that I have learned the skill of listening to what life needs me to hear instead. I am thankful that I have learned. I am thankful that I have grown, and I am mostly thankful for this life I have been given. It has not been easy. In fact, some things have been and still feel downright cruel. But I am alive, and with loss surrounding so many during this season of family and togetherness, I can’t help but feel thankful just to breathe one more breath or see one more smile from my incredibly handsome husband. I am thankful to have been blessed to carry our son to 28 weeks. There are so many who would give up everything in the world to be in my shoes experiencing what it feels to have a baby. I do not take this job lightly, and I most certainly do not take it for granted. I know that I am lucky. I will never doubt that.

During this season of thanks, I am especially thankful for the one person who very well could have walked away but never ever has and I know never will. Roman, you are without a doubt, the most amazing man with the most impeccable character. Even from the very beginning of our relationship that consisted of Skype calls in order to maintain some sort of contact, you stayed up all hours of the night sitting on the computer just talking to me. You have always put me and Callum before yourself, and I hope in some way, you have seen that I have and will always do the same for you. Always and forever, my love. Always and forever. As excited as I am about becoming a mother, nothing excites me more than watching you become a father. You are Callum’s Superman. You are his very first teacher, and you will show him what being a real man means. My promise to you as his mom is to only let him know how amazing you are. He will never hear a negative thing about you from my lips. Ever. I am so fortunate that you were chosen for me and that we chose this path and each other to share it with.  This year, I am most thankful for you.

I am also forever thankful for my family and friends who feel like family that have shared this journey, as well as so many other journeys, with me and with Roman. Not everyone can say they have friends and family all over the world, and our little boy is beyond blessed to have so many people that are rooting for him and love him. There are people who worship a different god by a different name or simply none at all. People who speak different languages. People who come from all different walks of life. Our lives are fuller, richer, and more meaningful because of you. Thank you for allowing me to share my journey in such a way, and thank you for always loving me and my little family of three. As we wind down to the final months of this pregnancy, I hope in some way that you feel that you have been a part of this with us, because you have been.

I hope that everyone back home had the most amazing Thanksgiving, and I hope that this holiday season for all of our friends and family around the world be one filled with love, happiness, and a peace of mind as we rapidly approach the new year. I love you all.