the Event

Well, I figured I should at least start writing what I can remember about 'the Event' before I forget some of the finer details. The event, as I am referring to, is the birth of our 3rd child, Micah Christopher Zirk. It was not as easy and quick as the other two births were, but equally as memorable. There were highs and lows like the other pregnancies, but this one was different for some obvious and not so obvious reasons.

First of all, we knew what we were having. That was different. We didn't find out with the girls, so they were both surprises until they were evicted from the womb. We had prep time this go around, which was nice, but I still cannot decide which was more fun--the not knowing and preparing as much as possible, or the knowing and stressing out a little because you actually KNOW what you will be needing.

We were having the first boy in the Goedge family offspring. That was different. Micah will be showered with love and affection from all the girls in his family. He has 2 sisters, and 4 girl cousins. It will be cool to see how they love on him. And it will be cool for my brothers to teach him the finer points of sports and outdoors and such. We teach that to the girls, too. After all, a girl needs to be well rounded. But there is something different about teaching those things to a boy. The testosterone in him needs to know those things for a healthy outlet.

So let me start with a few weeks prior to Micah's arrival. I was large, uncomfortable and not sleeping at all. I was crabby, I was short with all of my family, and I was so ready to move forward. I had finally gotten my asthma under control, my reflux under control and I was peeing every half hour or so. My hips were throbbing and my sciatica would flare up unpredictably. This pregnancy was not kind to me at all. And so it was for the next couple of weeks; people at church would always tell me how they didn't expect to see me this week. "Me either" was my reply. I had been having contractions on and off, but nothing regular. So, we hit the last week of school for Christopher and Ava. I had gotten Ava's teachers their thank you gifts, Christopher had made sub plans for each day in case he wasn't coming in the following. It was Monday, and I was shopping at Meijer when all of a sudden I felt like I was about to pass out. I was getting the ring of sweat I get when my sugar drops. I had Paige in my cart, totally unaware, and someone who had never used the self-scan register in front of me. I was already cutting it close to be back to pick Ava up on time. I tried texting my friend to see if she could pick Ava, but I got no response. I was supposed to be picking up Gavin, our next door neighbor's son, too, that day because his mom (who I would've tried texting) was at a Dr appt. I was starting to panic a little. I didn't want them to call EMS for fainting--who would watch Paige and who would get Ava or tell her teacher I wasn't coming? I knew I had to do something quick. I grabbed a bag of Skittles and just downed them. Paige thought it was pretty cool that mom opened candy (I shared with her, too) right there in line and ate it. After buying my groceries, I grabbed a pop and rushed to the car. We were late because of the slow lady and me getting my pop. So everyone at preschool assumed when a 9 month pregnant mom doesn't show up on time, she is in labor. I wasn't. I was just late. When my friends at the preschool heard my story, they all told me I should've paged them. I replied, "I was kind of in the middle of passing out! I didn't think to send out messages".

So, I picked the kids up, and reassured everyone at the preschool that I was ok and had not had the baby (in case it wasn't obvious). I felt much better, and took the kids home. So comes Wednesday, the next day Ava had preschool. I wanted to visit a friend who works at a coffee shop in Saline, so I headed there after I dropped Ava off. I bumped into a bunch of people I knew that day, and had a fun time showing Paige the finer details of hanging out with a good cup o' joe. So we took off after a bit, and headed back to get Ava. To make sure I would get back to pick her up on time, I decided to get on 94 instead of Michigan Avenue. Bad idea. Down to 1 lane going in the direction I need to go. So, I was late again, for the 2nd day in a row, to pick up Ava from preschool. So, again, everyone was worried I went in to labor, and started sending panic text messages out to check on me. I promised Ava's teacher I would not be late again--after all, there was only 1 day of preschool left! And I wasn't. The last day of preschool, I didn't even show up.

Thursday evening, I started having contractions. Nothing new or stronger than what I had been having. I woke up around 1am because they had gotten stronger and a bit more regular. I was so tired of waiting and wondering, but I decided to see if they continued before I got Christopher up. They did. He made his call in to work, missing the last day of the school year. Heidi came over so we could head to the hospital. I tried calling the OB on-call, but the phone kept disconnecting. I wouldn't get the answering service or anything. I tried from both the cell phone and the house phone. I was not sure what to do--the protocol is to call the Dr on call so they know you are heading in. I said, "forget it. I 'm not waiting". We headed in. And in typical 'me' fashion, it seemed as though my contractions had stopped. In triage, we learned that I was dilated, but my contractions had almost completely stopped. They made me walk the floors of the hospital for about 2 hours before they would check me again. I was miserable, and it was from 1-330am that I explored and walked almost every part of the hospital with Christopher. I prayed almost the whole time that I would have some progress, and that they would decide to keep me and admit me to the birthing unit. I got checked again. No progress. The Dr on call spoke with the residents following me, and with the Dr who would be coming in. They decided it was close enough to the change of shift that they let me stay, and they finally admitted me to a birthing room. I was so thankful.

I got a hot tub room, which was nice. I thought I would try it out, since I knew this would be my last pregnancy, and my last chance to soak before this child would rock my world on the outside. And the muscles covering my entire body were aching. It was nice. The Dr said she would come check on me again after I was done in the bath. So I enjoyed it for a bit, and then got out and got back in to bed. The nurse came back, and hooked me back up to the monitors. As we were talking, there was a knock at the door. 2 or 3 men were asking to come in and look at the tub. They asked if anyone had used it recently. We told them we had just finished. Apparently, it had flooded the room below us. There was supposed to be a sign saying not to use it, which had inadvertently been removed. All I could do was laugh. I decided to get my epidural before anything else 'flukey' could happen. It was great, and didn't give me any trouble at all.

Well, I had still not progressed any, so they decided break my water to see if it would get things going again. 3 out of 3 times I had to have my water broken because it didn't do it on it's own. But unlike last time, where it did the trick, this time, it did not. So after a little while, they decided to start the pitocin. That worked. I was ready to push after about an hour of pitocin. I had Micah after about 45 minutes of pushing. It seemed like a long time, since both girls I pushed for about 15 minutes and they were out. There was a good reason it took quite a bit longer. When I heard the Dr said, "oh my" as I was pushing, I knew there was something crazy going on. It turns out, Micah was a pretty big baby! After they measured him and weighed him, they announced his birth weight as 10 lbs, 9 oz! I didn't know anyone who had delivered a baby that large. I have several friends who have had 9 lbs babies (Paige was 9 lbs, 1 oz) and even one who had a 10 lbs baby, but this was so unbelievable to me. As the Dr said shortly after, "imagine if you had gone the last 4 days to your due date. This baby would've been 11 pounds easily". God's timing is good. And I am really glad to have not gone the last 4 days! It took a little longer to heal up after this one, but I didn't have nearly the trauma I would've expected for delivering a baby that large. Micah was born on Friday, June 17, 2011 at around 3:30 pm.

3 cm and 50%

So, I am 38 weeks and a couple of days along, the end in site. Last week's OB appointment left me excited and scared both. I was checked for dilation, and usually they tell me, "well, dilation doesn't necessarily mean labor is coming, so don't worry that you are still at 0-1 cm." Well, ok then. And I leave the office feeling a bit bummed. But I know once the contractions start for me, the delivery isn't far behind. I was told Thursday I was at 3cm and 50% effaced. So, this is new for me. I'll be honest--I don't expect to go early. But if it were to happen, I wouldn't be sad. Christopher should just be done with school (17th) before my due date (20th); just in case though, for this last week of school, he has made sub plans. The way our luck goes, that should guarantee we won't go early--being prepared is one of the best ways to delay anything premature. I didn't shave my armpits today, though, so it might balance out our chances!

On Christopher's work front, we had some good news yesterday. He has officially been called back to teach next fall. He had been pink slipped several times in the beginning of his career, and always been called back, but we had gone a few years without the pink slip. It returned this year.

He also got to select what courses he will be teaching next fall, and got some of the classes he had always wanted to teach. Usually the higher math and the honors classes go to the teachers with the most seniority, and they are the envy of most teachers, because a lot of the discipline and behavioral issues don't occur with the higher math. College prep classes tend to have students more serious about their education. Well, Christopher got some higher math classes, which will include more prep because he hasn't taught them before, but the mental health relief from having better disciplined students will be such a welcome change. You would not believe some of the things a teacher hears from students and parents until you are a teacher, or their spouse. It is an incredible burden a teacher bears when the people who should be taking responsibility for their children's behavior decide it's the teacher's job and not their own parenting responsibility. It borders on ridiculous! There has been so much negative press about teachers lately, and I assure you, there are bad teachers out there; but not all teachers fit in that mold. And I STRONGLY caution anybody from pigeon-holeing teachers based on what they see on TV or read on the internet. I live with one who carries a world of burden he shouldn't have to, because he cares enough for his students and doesn't want them to fail. But he can't do their homework for them. He can't take their tests for them. He can't study for them. Some of the initiative HAS to come from the home front. And if the parents aren't putting in time with their kids and their education at home, it is crazy to expect the teacher to do it in their stead. Teachers have 28-32 kids in a class, times 5-6 classes. If the parents expect the teacher to carry each of those students because they aren't working with their kids at home, that is easily over 150 students the teacher is responsible for in addition to his normal, expected job responsibilities. There has to be some help from parents at home. And it is fairly obvious when there is help at home. If the state wants students to reach certain goals by the time they are done with high school, teachers can't be reteaching the fundamentals that kids have already been taught and students are presumed to know. There simply isn't enough time in a semester to do that. All this being said, it is a welcome relief for Christopher to have a few classes where the students are more serious and the parents are more involved. It is such an eye opening thing for me to see, realizing how critically important it is for parents to be involved in all aspects of a child's education. It makes a world of difference.

We have also been so blessed recently by all the generosity of our family and friends. The girls are getting to go to a week long day camp soon after the baby arrives, and they get to attend a summer ballet class, because of people wanting to help us out. It is a struggle to go from 2 incomes to 1, which is what we have to do each time I go on maternity leave. I do not get any benefits or pay whatsoever when I go on leave, because I only work part time. I do have a good chunk of PTO coming, which they cash out to cover any time off on a leave, so thankfully, knowing that ahead of time, I worked extra to build up my PTO bank. It was tiring to do so, but I am glad I did it now....

We have so much to be grateful for, and we have so much we are fearful for. Thankfully, Jehovah Jireh, our provider, will not forget us now. He never has. His ways are so much bigger than our little minds can comprehend and eyes can see. And thank goodness they are. I have no idea what the summer holds in store, but I sense some changes coming that might be tough, but necessary. Continue to lift us up in prayer as we turn to God to navigate us through all the craziness we call 'everyday life'.

Catch up time before the next arrival....

I haven't written for a while, but not for lack of material! Life seems to be zooming by, and I am just holding on, trying to stay alive. I have had recent health issues, work issues, food for thought from books I have FINALLY had a chance to read, and fear and excitement mixed about all of the unknown heading my way.

My most recent health issue (as there always seems to be at least one, whether I am pregnant or not) has been my asthma. I have had asthma for the past 5 years or so, but it only becomes a potential problem after exercise, or when I am sick and coughing a lot. So, I've had a rescue inhaler and I need it a couple of times a year. Totally tolerable. Well, it has been a different story while pregnant. I have suffered from really bad acid reflux this time (as well as last pregnancy), and have needed to go on prescription strength reflux medicine. I also sleep on a huge wedge pillow and a couple regular pillows to keep me almost upright while sleeping. And it seemed to be working fairly well. Then, starting about a month ago, I would wake up from sleep choking on food, and cough so hard that I would end up vomiting (and lose other bodily functions that go along with being very pregnant). This coughing so hard would trigger my asthma, and I would get really short of breath and a 'tightness' in my chest. This would happen 3-4 times a night. My rescue inhaler was not working, because it is not supposed to be used as frequently as I was needing it. So, last week, I decided to call the OB to see how they could help me. I ended up having to go to the Labor and Delivery triage to get checked. Turns out, I wasn't getting as much oxygen as I needed, and my heart rate was high. After ruling some serious possibilities out, they sent me home on some steroids and told me to go ahead and start using a nebulizer machine to get my breathing medicine. I am feeling so much better after my primary care doc prescribed the dose of steroid that was actually appropriate for my 'size'. So thankful for modern medicine and specifically, steroids.

I actually made it to my last day of work before maternity leave at the hospital . I figured working until the end of May was pretty good considering my due date is June 20. I ended up having to leave a month before Paige's birth, so I wanted to leave some extra cushion on the front end this time, too. Though I know this makes sense for my physical health, it freaks me out in the financial sense. We managed last time without my income, and we made it, and I am trying to be reminded of that. But we have one more child this time than last, and somehow, that makes it seem exponentially more scary to deal with.

I was also informed on my last day that when I come back, I would not be able to function in the nursing educator role, as the budget had been eliminated. I knew it was a possibility, because my manager had let me take on that role as a reprieve from staffing on the floor. I had been working 8 hour shifts for about 3 years, and I was also informed that when I came back, I would have to work 12 hour shifts again. I stopped working 12 hour shifts because the stress and the fatigue was too great after starting a family. So this left me with some food for thought. I have been waiting and waiting for a position to open in the outpatient infusion center, and hoping it would coincide with my return to work from maternity leave. There were a couple of employees that had the possibility of leaving around the time I would be coming back from leave. I found out someone who hadn't ever expressed interest or worked hours in the infusion center was given a part time position to start about when I get back. I was totally dumbfounded. When I approached my manager, she claimed she wasn't sure about anybody going anywhere in the infusion center. On the one hand, everything is hearsay to me, but at the same time, I feel as though something that was promised me is going to someone else (less qualified). I want to stay in oncology, but I don't want to staff on the inpatient unit for 12 hour shifts. I have NO IDEA where God is leading in this, but I am going to have to wait and trust. In the meantime, I am not sure whether to pursue a job somewhere else, or to go back to something that I know I don't want in hopes what I do want opens up. I like the familiarity of where I've worked for the past 8 years, but if there is no chance for me to get where I am wanting to go, then I'd like to look elsewhere. I do not want to work in the environment where I feel I have had to compromise the quality of my patient care in order to 'complete' all the required tasks and forms. And that is what going back to staffing on the floor would have me do. Just not sure where God would have me.

Just finished reading the book, "Choosing to SEE" by Mary Beth Chapman. It was an amazing book, but probably not one I should have read while all emotional, hormonal and pregnant. It is amazing to see how a family struck with tragedy learns to see God within their circumstances. The loss of their daughter was something that hit the core of my emotions. I could not imagine losing one of my children, and even with the 'head' knowledge they would be with God, the book allows you to experience the grief of a parent and how retching it is. I have definitely learned that every moment with the kids is precious, and I don't want to forget any of the things that make them each so unique and special. I bawled my eyes out for most of the book, but it made me stop and realize how incredibly important they are to me. I am more deliberate to celebrate the little things with them, that might seem insignificant at the time. They are everything to me.

So, now that I am off of work, I am frantically working to get everything ready for the baby's arrival. Cleaning like I haven't had the chance to in months. With much less energy, of course.....Every day I try to clean, declutter, or organize something in efforts to be closer to 'ready' for our baby's celebratory appearance. Just trying to take one day at a time...what else can I do?

Fighting my own flesh

Most days, you wouldn't know I am struggling--I am getting really good at covering it well. Some days, my hubby doesn't even know. The thing is, I'm so tired of fighting against my own flesh. I have been struggling and fighting a battle since February against my own mind and body. I know we cannot live without struggle, and that working through the battle is supposed to make us stronger. Every time I think I am making progress, I fall backwards. And it seems to be pervading into all other areas of my life, which is making the fighting effort that much more difficult. I am finding myself so cynnical, negative, disheartened, depressed, and quite frankly at times, ready to give up. I feel so unloved and unlovable. It's funny how pain moves and cripples you at your core. If it was simply physical 'pain', I could deal with that and compartmentalize it. The problem for me is, the physical pain is draining me of all my other capacities, and I am completely zapped of any coping mechanisms. I feel drained in my physical, mental, and spiritual realms. Don't get me wrong--there is a very logical side of me that knows I am loved, that knows God loves me and showers me with grace, that knows I am a capable mother, nurse and member of a family. But Satan prowls in and around all of my weaknesses and just takes tiny jabs here and there, knowing my resources to fight back are limited by my flesh and fatigue. And for some reason, the more I try to claim Christ in the areas of my life I am struggling with, the more difficult the battles become. And they are the same attacks, just increasing in strength each time. I know He is there to be my strength when I am weak, and yet I don't feel any of his power pouring through me when I call His name. I feel wrapped up in the silence I hear in response to my pleading. And then I lose the battle again, because I cannot muster the strength to keep fighting on my own. I wallow in the fact that I lost AGAIN to the same sin that has been a stumbling block for me over the past few months. I repent, wholeheartedly, and swear to be stronger this next time. 'I just need to claim scripture over the situation, and Satan will flee.' But he doesn't; he comes at me stronger. And I fail again. And again. And again. If it weren't for the solid assurance I have that God has not given up on me and is willing to shower His grace upon me each and every time I fail, I am not sure where I would be. Of all the things I know, I know His grace is truly amazing. That is how I know I must keep fighting. But I feel like I am battling in solitude. I haven't felt the comfort of a good friend for months, and with this pregnancy drawing near it's end, I realize I have felt quite alone through it. The struggles have been intimate and personal this time, and have really left me feeling cut off from the group of friends that I know would do anything for me. One area of disheartenment tends to bleed over into other areas, and I begin to experience those same chords of disheartenment and discontent in what feels like all aspects of my life. I feel I have no source of refrehment and renewal for my soul. And it is in desperate need of refreshing.

So What's New?

So, since my first ultrasound, I have had some pending excitement in the world of carrying another baby. Because they didn't get all the required views on the 1st ultrasound, I had to schedule a 2nd. No big deal. Had to do the same for Paige as well. They also mentioned to me that I had a 'low lying placenta' this time, which is something that usually fixes itself, but requires further ultrasounds. No big deal. I already had to have the 2nd one. So I go in to get the 2nd ultrasound 2 weeks later, and they got most every view except a clear view of the heart. Kind of critical. Had to schedule a 3rd ultrasound to try and get a picture of the heart. I got a call from my OB telling me she wanted to chat about my ultrasounds at my next visit. I figured it was about the placenta, and I wasn't alarmed. I forgot my next scheduled visit wasn't with my regular OB, but with another in the office. So, when I got there, she asked if anyone had spoken to me about the baby's heart. I said, 'no', so she explained that they saw something on the heart (echogenic intracardiac focus), which if found in more than one spot, could indicate 'chromosomal abnormalities'. And since they hadn't gotten a good view of the heart, they needed to let me know about this possibility in case the U/S tech said something about it. The Dr said that when found in an isolated spot, it doesn't usually end up being anything; it's when they find 4 or 5 spots that it becomes a concern. And with my 'advanced maternal age' title, it does make me more prone for the chromosomal abnormalities anyway. So, I was a little frightened, but not worried scared. I coaxed myself into waiting for my 3rd ultrasound results before borrowing trouble, which happened to be the following day. So I go in for the 3rd ultrasound. The baby is still not cooperating, and they really had a hard time getting a picture of the heart. When they could see it, there was a shadow of the arm bone on it or something which slightly obstructed the view. There was never any question of whether the heart had developed or functioned correctly--we could always see it pumping on all the ultrasounds. But they need to have a front-on view of it to see if the chambers have formed correctly and, apparently, to see if there were anymore of these 'spots' to cause concern. So, finally, after much coercing and pushing and prodding, the tech thought she had a few pics that would suffice. She said standard procedure after the 3rd u/s, and not getting the views they needed, would be to get a fetal echocardiogram. This is no big deal, and doesn't hurt, but it's just another visit to schedule and coordinate childcare, etc. She said the Dr would call and let me know if I needed to schedule this or if the views she got would suffice. So, I waited all afternoon and into the evening before I got a call. And thankfully, it was my own OB, who hadn't seen me since the 1st ultrasound and had just gotten the results of the 3rd one back. She assured me that they only saw the one spot, so not to be alarmed, and that I didn't have to go get any more ultrasounds out of her office. Praise the Lord! So, the heart issue had pretty much been laid to rest, and the placenta issue, if it didn't resolve itself, would be at worst case a c-section. Although there is still a slim chance something could be wrong with the baby, the only way to know for sure is by having an amniocentesis (inserting a needle and drawing out some of the amniotic fluid around the baby to analyze), which has higher risks of complications than not finding out at all. And because it wouldn't change my course of action, I saw no need for it. My Dr agreed. So, now, I am doing fine, hurting a lot (read about symphasis pubis dysfunction during my pregnancy with Paige titled 'my testimony of God's goodness', July 16 2008), but the baby has a lot of umph in my belly and is growing right on schedule. I am looking pretty large at 5 months, but look the best I have out of any of the pregnancies up to this point as far as weight gain. I am still wearing my regular pants, but definitely had to get out the maternity shirts to cover up the protruding belly. I am definitely filling out differently with this babe than I did with the other 2, which some might say is because I am having a boy and not a girl. Who knows? I am just thankful that the baby is ok, and I am chugging along.

I am the first....

I am officially the first bearer of a male grandchild for my mom and dad! This will be their 7th grandchild, but first GRANDSON! I am certainly very excited about this, and am still sort of in shock about the whole thing. I am so used to having girls, and this pregnancy was the first time we decided to find out the gender of our baby. So Ava and Paige were both surprises, and delightful ones at that. It is just so different knowing ahead of time. I am not sure which way I prefer. I like the idea of getting used to a certain family dynamic and constitution, but I also like the 'let's see how it goes when whoever gets here' dynamic. At least now, I know I need different clothes!

I have also encountered a new, odd feeling that I find myself dealing with--the thought (and possible reality) that I might have been disappointed if I had another girl. I found myself ready to brace for disappointment when we went to our ultrasound appointment. I was so scared of my own reaction when I should have been elated to see our baby, whatever the gender. The thought that it was some kind of personal failure to not be able to make a son, crazy as that sounds, was on the forefront of my mind for the days preceding the appointment. I was very uncomfortable to be aware of this thought process as it was happening, and not being able to talk myself out of the thought pattern. Weird, because I adore my girls! They are fun to play with, paint nails with and do hair, play dress up with, buy fun clothes for and the list goes on and on. Why I felt this unspoken pressure to produce a boy/grandson I am not sure--but I do know it was not from an external source. The best I can guess is knowing what an awesome gift it is to give to my husband--a son to carry on his name. And what a cool gift to give to my dad, who is such an outdoorsman, nature, sports guy, fix-it-upper who would love to have a grandson to share some of these passions with. Interestingly enough, I was more 'wanting' a boy for Christopher than he would admit to wanting for himself. He LOVES the dynamic of being a dad to our girls, and he understands what a huge and important job it is. He wouldn't have been disappointed to have a 3rd girl, but I think I might have been. Seems so backwards, because everyone figures he's 'relieved' to finally have a boy, because what father doesn't want a son? Such a complex train of thought for me to encounter, and yet such an odd sense of relief to know I am carrying a boy. I am a mystery unto myself (as well as others, I'm sure).

We are thrilled, and yet thrusted again into the unknowns of parenthood. What an exciting ride this will be.....

A Joyful Update

Since my last update, I have gotten a 2nd opinion from a different ophthamologist. Praise the Lord, and thank God I did! He didn't see any signs or symptoms that would lead him to believe I had glaucoma. He was going to review my records from the previous Dr and try and figure out why they would tell me I had it or needed surgery. So, while I am extremely relieved to hear that news, I am still completely perplexed by the whole situation from the other Drs office. I will be going back to my new ophthamologist in 2 months to get my eye pressure checked again. Hopefully, then, I will be completely relieved of the fear that robbed me a week of sleep and worry. My life is too crazy.