Michael Patrick Sullivan

He's finally here!

Michael Patrick Sullivan was born at home on his due date, March 22 at 12:47 PM. He was a round 9 lbs 2 oz (a whole half a pound larger than his brothers) and 21.25 inches long. He came out blue and silent initially, with the umbilical cord across his neck, but quickly turned a nice shade of pink and yelled admirably. He has a very healthy set of lungs. In fact, he seems to be in all ways just an incredibly healthy, vital baby. (Praise God!) It's more like having a one month old instead of a newborn. Right away he was alert and turning to listen to people's voices, especially mommy's. He was even able to lift his head to turn and listen to people and he managed to (probably accidentally) get out a couple of smiles just a few hours after being born. We are so so glad to meet him! The big kids keep asking to hold him or crowding around to "help" him or entertain him. Michael will probably never suffer from loneliness or a deficit of attention with so many loving siblings around. Diana has gone into full mothering mode and is happy to do anything and everything to help me with the baby. Liam seems to have a new, grounding sense of responsibility. He has been an incredibly reasonable, responsible boy lately and practically glows with pride every time he comes over to talk to me about the new baby. Matthew was a little skeptical at first that this was actually the fabled baby from mommy's tummy, but he seems satisfied now with the idea that the storied baby finally just came out. He likes to hold him occasionally, repeating "Hi, new baby!" and patting his head.

The birth story

(This is a hint to skip this part if you don't want the details.)

It took a while to be convinced that I was really in labor. I'd had a few false starts in the previous days, including one day when I even gave my midwife her "heads up" call since I really felt constant contractions. So when I woke up with contractions at 4 AM, I was suspicious but not entirely convinced. The contractions were anywhere from 3 to 10 minutes apart depending on what I was doing, and they weren't all progressively stronger. I tried sleeping again (no luck), then sitting in the bath, walking around, and sitting up. Thankfully the stronger contractions held off until after 7:30, so Joseph's family came to get the kids for the day. I didn't really want them to see/hear me in labor if we could help it.

I've been basically apprehensive about giving birth since we found out we were expecting. It's unlike me. With the other three kids, I reached a point at which I knew it was going to happen, it had to happen, and I was just going to do it as well as I could because there was no other choice. Truthfully, I think I was a bit traumatized after my experience giving birth to Matthew. It was all so painful and overwhelming and out of control. What I wanted most this time was just some control, or at least the illusion of it. Poor Joseph kept asking if he could do anything for me and I didn't have any ideas for him. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to yell. I didn't want to squeeze his hand with each contraction for the hours between when the kids left and when I went into transition. I wanted to slow the whole process down as much as possible so that I would have some control. Early on I laid down on the bed and the contractions started coming two minutes apart, but they were so much more painful and difficult to take that I quickly got up again and sat on a rocking chair pretty much for the rest of the morning. I knew that if I wanted to speed up the labor process, I could just lay down on the bed, but I wanted as much as possible to control this birth. So instead I sat in that chair as contractions started coming harder, but still staying around four minutes apart. We finally called the midwife when I started feeling hard tightening at the end of each one. I love that we were able to have a quiet, peaceful morning at home while I was in labor. I really like home births.

By the time my midwife arrived around noon, I was starting to feel some light pushing at the end of each contraction, which I think made Joseph just a little nervous. Knowing me and fourth-time births, she sprang into action and set up everything very quickly. I delayed moving to the bed as much as possible, but when the pushing started to feel moderately hard, I knew I couldn't stay sitting on the rocking chair. Sure enough, as soon as I laid down, everything started moving very quickly. Contractions were very strong and I started to get the urge to push hard. Feeling my baby's body move down into my pelvis was more painful than I remembered with any of the other kids. I had to grab Joseph's hands and yell, which I really didn't want to do because I still didn't want to lose control. With each contraction I asked Jesus to give me strength for my baby's sake. In the weeks leading up to that day I'd prayed hopefully for a painless birth. God didn't give me that, but I actually felt God's hand over the whole process. He didn't take away the pain, but he did give me space enough not to feel afraid or totally out of control. Throughout the entire last stage of labor, even through hard pushing, I had 2-4 minutes between contractions- enough time to regroup my thoughts and focus my energy on pushing rather than having my energy directed for me. I was able to focus on pushing more and yelling less. (The assistant midwife asked, "Is she always this quiet during labor?" Which was a far cry different from my experience having Matthew.) I could catch my breath, pray again silently for strength, even respond to people when they spoke to me. I felt like a person and a participant in the process instead of the animalistic experience with Matthew's quick labor and I was so so so grateful for that. 

Moments after delivery

My water broke one or two pushes before his head emerged, as usual. This time it took a few pushes to get his head all the way out, and that pace was slow enough to prevent tearing, which my midwife was particularly on the lookout for. Another push or two and his body was delivered. He was just a round healthy boy from the beginning. And as usual, the moment he was out, the pain was gone and I was just ecstatic to see my baby. I may have even cried a little. 

I did end up tearing and needing stitches again. Those little hands got me. While it was a fairly small second degree tear, Lisa found something that neither she nor her assistant had ever seen before. (Which is an awesome thing to hear when you're already enduring the least pleasant part of post-childbirth.) She called around to some Certified Nurse Midwives and OBs and wasn't able to get a good answer. Since she wasn't comfortable dealing with something she was unfamiliar with, she ended up taking me, only three hours after giving birth, to the ER where a local OB agreed to look at the issue and repair it. (A decision I totally respect. I'd rather have someone who's willing to defer to other experts than someone who makes uninformed decisions.) Since Michael was healthy and I was going to an icky ER, we decided to leave him at home. It was totally bizarre to have been pregnant for ten months, holding my baby for a few hours, and then suddenly go out, baby-less the day I gave birth. There was a lot of waiting, but the OB recognized the issue right away and said it was not a big deal at all and that the repair would be quick and easy. Lisa and I were both incredibly relieved. After about half an hour, I was on my way home again. It was probably the nicest ER visit I could have hoped for.

Now here we are with a five day old baby. Joseph, my mom, and his family have been taking care of the older kids and me, which is an incredible blessing. I love having the support to just take it easy and care for my baby, especially since the first week or two after giving birth is so rough physically. I'm still healing up and I need to make sure not to walk around too much or carry anything heavy. Sitting for long periods or even standing for short periods can be uncomfortable. Breastfeeding was, as I expected, absolutely excruciating, though we recently found that a different position makes the pain much more manageable. My milk came in and the engorgement made practically every movement by the upper half of my body incredibly uncomfortable. The reality of having a new baby, at least in my house, is sleeplessness and broken, aching bodies- me keeping mostly to my room so no one has to see how uncomfortable and messy everything is. We have a small house full of kids and it feels too awkward to fill it up with people visiting. As a result, we still have some family and close friends who haven't seen Michael yet, even though I know they'd love to, and I'm so thankful they're so patient! I've really enjoyed having the space to be reclusive and just recover from having a baby. 

And that's where we're at so far. His birth and our recovery hasn't been all magical rainbows, but it's been very manageable, which makes it all seem better than I expected. We've had so much help from God and from the people around us. He's healthy, I'm healthy. and things are getting better every day. 

A snapshot of late pregnancy

Hello! I'm dusting off this long-neglected blog again while the morning is still dark and the house is still quiet to share what's been on my mind lately, which is a snapshot of late pregnancy.

In just a few days I'll be 39 weeks along with our newest baby, which is significant because both my other boys were born just two days before the 40 week mark. So we'll hopefully be seeing this baby's sweet face soon.

Pregnancy is miraculous. Throughout it all, you can't help but feel that it was brilliantly designed by someone who knew what they were doing. For example, in the first trimester you can't eat or keep food down, presumably because this helps save you from food-borne illnesses, which would be much more harmful to a little baby before 12 weeks old. The same masterful design applies to the last two weeks or so of the last trimester. In this case, the object seems to be that the new mother will become so uncomfortable just existing in her own body that she would gladly endure childbirth, and that's really been the case for me.

Here I am, up a couple of hours before the kids because I can't sleep. Anyone who tells you to try to be "well-rested" before birth has never been pregnant. I don't know what woke me up exactly. It could have been my hips aching from having a heavy baby resting on them. It could have been getting up for the 20th time to use the bathroom. It could have been that when I got back in bed, my brain decided this would be a good time to puzzle out exactly where to put the infant car seat in the second row of our car and what I should get accomplished this weekend. In any case, I was lying awake long enough to get hungry because after all, I hadn't eaten in hours, and when I tried to ignore the feeling, a small someone began kicking, wiggling, and punching to remind me to get up and eat. At 5:30 AM.

This doesn't bode well for me today because now that I am HUGE, I naturally tire easily. The nesting instinct is real, and it has set in, so normally I'd bounce around the house clearing clutter, setting up baby gear, making freezer meals, and folding adorable baby laundry, but instead, I know I'm going to get one or two things done today and take breaks while I'm doing them, then be tired and cranky. Pregnancy is a beautiful time.

I don't really care that much about my weight because I know it all comes off eventually. With my first baby, I think I stayed on the low end of the recommended 25-35 lb weight gain. With my second, I was probably on the high end. The third pregnancy I think broke through that and this time I don't give it any thought as I don't end up weighing more than my husband. I would describe my body type at this point as "grumpy land-walrus waddling around the house trying to snack in peace." And you know what? This land-walrus don't care.

But the truth is there are lots of physical challenges that come with being heavier than I've ever been in my life. Some days I don't know if my pelvis and hips can actually still support me or if they'll just up and quit. I walk the same way I watched my older relatives get around when I was young: grimacing and hefting myself up (rest here to give the baby a minute to settle), then leaning to each side to swing the opposite leg around. Heaven forbid I should need to, say, run around after kids, change clothes or diapers, or bend down to pick/clean something up, or put on someone's shoe. Because with this pregnancy, I'm also dealing with pulled abdominal muscles and/or round ligament pain. I can't hurry anywhere, though I have found myself pulling off a light trot when it comes to whisking a child away from the road. I get out of breath doing simple things like doing the dishes or putting away groceries. Basically all I'm cut out for right now is bobbing in a warm-water pool for the remainder of this pregnancy. Joseph also snapped what he calls a portrait of late pregnancy, which is me sitting on a recliner chair looking at my phone and eating chocolate fudge brownie ice cream off a carton balanced on my belly. Don't judge.

This baby is healthy and growing, and that is real cause for celebration. He lets me know that he is outgrowing his home by stretching his feet into my ribs or extended episodes of trying to find the exit or punch his way out. My body lets me know it will soon be time for labor with Braxton-Hicks contractions that aren't joking around. And he lets me know that this is not cool by kicking, punching, and readjusting himself after every hard squeeze.

So basically everything about living and taking care of three kids, which is already a challenge, is more difficult because I feel like a large invalid, and you have been tricked into reading an entire post of whining (and that's just the stuff I can share in polite company). GRUMPY WALRUS DOESN'T CARE ABOUT YOUR TIME. I feel that I have two options at this point: having this baby soon or being pregnant forever. (If you contradict me, I will start crying because nonsensical feelings leading to tears are at an all-time high too because: PREGNANCY.) In this day and age, it is possible to send a person into space, but not to design clothes that will fit a pregnant woman in her third trimester, so I wear the same 2-3 outfits. My feet and I are in a long distance relationship. This is just not a fun time.

The last two weeks really are the hardest two weeks of pregnancy, BUT I am so very lucky. The place I live, my economic situation, and my family and friends all enable me to take it easy and enjoy myself as much as possible. I can be a grumpy walrus because I am treated like a queen by my husband, who works for our family all day and then still helps take care of the house and kids when he gets home. I am helped out by family members who watch kids or stop by just to bring gifts, and by friends who watch our kids so I can enjoy some last time with Joseph before a new baby. I am healthy enough to have the option of trying for a quiet birth at home with a midwife I know and trust. So far, this baby has given every indication of just being a healthy, growing baby trying out his body in preparation for living with us in the outside world. I don't have to work or do hard manual labor. I'm not starving, I'm part of a culture that values women. I am blessed surpassing reason in so many ways that it allows me to dwell on being a grumpy walrus, which actually makes me very happy indeed.

I know it's not a walrus, all right? Just go with it.

So I'm going to go make some pancakes now that it's time for kids to get up, then take a breather, then eat something other than pancakes so I don't ruin my blood sugar for the day because it feels bad and because my midwife is now IN MY MIND encouraging me to eat protein, spinach, and quinoa. Grumpy walrus OUT. Hopefully the next time I pop on here it will be after having a brand new baby.