Nolan

Introducing...

Nolan Maxwell Sharp

Born Monday, November 16, 2009 at 10:30 a.m.

He's well-loved already.

His birth story is still whirling in my mind. It's wild. Let me share...

After much debate and discussion with my husband and my doctor, we decided to induce his labor on Monday morning. We were concerned that he might not have enough amniotic fluid because this had been a problem in all three of my previous pregnancies. I was disappointed because I really wanted to do this completely naturally. My doctor told me 2 weeks prior to the induction date that I was dilated to 3 cm and already 90% effaced, so I really thought I would have him soon. So I was also a little relieved to finally be done with the pregnancy and meet my baby.

We arrived at Parkwest at 5:30 Monday. They got my IV in and we signed paperwork, but nothing much really happened until 7:45. That's when they started pitocin to encourage stronger and more regular contractions (I had been having mild, irregular contractions for about 2 weeks). At 8:00 my doctor arrived and broke my water. She confirmed that I was still 3cm. They turned up the pitocin every 15 or 20 minutes, so it didn't take very long for me to be in hard labor. I was having painful contractions every 2 minutes (lasting about a minute each) by 9:00, and they gradually got stronger and lasted longer after that. I had signed the consent form for the epidural but told the nurse I wanted to wait to get it. The truth was that, although I had suspected I would need an epidural to get through an aggressively induced labor, I was disappointed about not having the natural childbirth I had dreamed of for so many months. So, just kept telling myself that I would wait 10 minutes and then ask for it if I still wanted it. After 10 minutes, I'd tell myself the same thing again. I kept watching the clock and, when the deadline came, setting a new goal time. At 10:00, I was holding strong.

At 10:15 my dad brought my children back from the waiting room where they had been playing. They were loud and busy. They climbed on the bed where I was laboring and made noise and broke my concentration. It was at this moment that I realized I couldn't go on for 4 more hours (I was expecting a 2:00 delivery, which was pretty consistent with the labor time for my second and third children, minus just a little bit due to wishful thinking). I don't know if the pain actually got worse at that point or if I just lost my concentration and ability to deal with it with all the noise, but that's the point when I could no longer look ahead 10 minutes. I told Mike to call the nurse and ask for my epidural. He gladly did. I guess everyone must have realized that I was in a lot of pain at that point because my mom took the boys back out of the room, and my dad left altogether saying that he'd be back around lunch (and not to have the baby before he returned). My nurse came in right away and went immediately about the business of preparing for the epidural. As she was unpacking the kit on my tray, I told her that I needed to use the restroom before the anesthesiologist arrived. She told me to wait because he would be there in 10 minutes and put a catheter in place. I assured her that there was no way I could wait 10 minutes, and she helped me unhook the 50 thousand cords which tethered me to the hospital bed so I could go. Leaning on my IV pole for support, I made it to the restroom, where I was hit with the most unbelievable contraction. I was dizzy with pain, and I felt pretty sure I was going to die in that bathroom. I called to Mike who helped me cross the room back towards the bed. I had another very painful contraction just as we reached the foot of the bed, and I stopped there to wait it out before I tried to climb back in. It was different though. This was no ordinary contraction. This was a prepare-for-your-death kind of pain.

I told Mike and the nurse that it was suddenly extremely painful. They ignored me, minus a few consoling pats on the back. I guess, "THIS REALLY HURTS!" is just something that women in labor exclaim, so no real reason for alarm. After repeating it over and over and OVER the nurse finally asked if I thought maybe the baby was ready to come. I told her I thought maybe he was already coming. Mike wanted to assure me that the baby was, in fact, NOT going to fall out of my body, but first he looked to be sure that he knew what he was talking about. That's when he said, "The head is already out!"

The rest is a bit of a blur, but here's what I know. The nurse insisted that I lay down on the bed, but I absolutely couldn't move due to pain and panic. So, Mike pushed me backwards onto my back. The nurse grabbed the towel she had just put out for the anesthesiologist to use and caught my baby with it (because she didn't even have her gloves on at this point) at 10:30 a.m. after 2 and a half hours of labor and zero pushes. There was a little nursing student observing (it was her first day on the maternity floor). She couldn't have been more than 18 years old. The nurse sent her out to get help, and she gladly bolted. Within seconds, a crew of nurses descended on my room. Meanwhile, the nurse who delivered the baby was cleaning him up at the foot of my bed. I hadn't delivered the placenta yet, and the cord was not yet cut. She wanted to wait for the doctor to do those things. The doctor did arrive quickly (out of breath from running from her office) and delivered the placenta. She discovered that it was abrupted, likely the cause of the "I might die" pain I felt while walking to the restroom.

The anesthesiologist arrived shortly afterwards. We thanked him but told him his services would not be needed.

So, minus the induced contractions, I got my natural childbirth. I would highly recommend it. I felt GREAT afterwards, and the high of what my body is capable of still has me smiling three days later.

Oh, and the best part? He's wonderful. He's tiny and squishy and velvety soft and smells divine.

And that's the story of how 7 pound, 6 ounce Baby Nolan was born and made his mark on the world. Welcome, little guy. I hope you always have as much enthusiasm for life as you showed Monday.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Parenting is hard. I've written that before, but this time is different. We're having a really hard time at the Sharp household right now, and I'm struggling. The big boys have started fighting, which I know is normal for siblings, but it's aggressive and ugly and makes me so sad. They refuse to clean up their toys. They talk back. The last couple of days I've been standing there looking at them, scratching my head and thinking, "What has happened to my family?"

Yes, I know we're in the midst of major life changes. The baby should be here any day now (the doctor said on Monday she'd be surprised if I lasted another 10 days), and that alone is bound to cause some ripples in our usually still waters. Aaron is outgrowing the baby stage and becoming both a playmate and a real nuisance to the big boys. We've started homeschooling, so our days are no longer full of free play (although we do still get plenty of that). So, I know that there's a lot going on in their worlds, and I've tried to be understanding. But enough is enough.

I got really strict about time outs. I started using a timer and had very specific rules about what constituted a successful time out. I was consistent, for the most part anyway, and tried to be calm but firm when sentencing. Aggression was a non-negotiable time out, as was talking back and acts of defiance. And they just didn't care. 5 minutes later they came bounding out of their time out spots, offering a half-hearted apology only because it was required. Nothing changed.

The other day I did something I thought I would never do. I spanked my child. Ei bit Jackson on his face, leaving a nasty looking bitemark next to his eye. I asked him why he would do something like that (not that there is any good reason, but I needed to know if Jackson also deserved punishment), and he said that they were playing ball and Jackson got to the ball first which made him mad. I wanted to cry when I realized that my sweet little boy had the potential to be so very mean. So, I spanked him twice, while Jackson watched, and thought that this would surely put an end to this recent streak of ugliness. Afterwards I felt like throwing up. I'm not judging others here--just being honest. I just can't figure out how someone can spank a child and walk away feeling good about her parenting skills. All day I wanted to grab Ei in a big hug and tell him how sorry I was, that returning violence for violence was a terrible thing to do. But I talked to Mike about it, and we decided that it might be good for him to see that parents do have bigger ammunition than just time outs and that he better get his act straight. We agreed not to use this particular method of punishment on a regular basis (in fact, I think I'm done with it), but we thought maybe some good might come of it. It didn't. He has bitten Jackson 3 times since then.

Today I walked into the bonus room of our house and took a good look around. There were toys (so many toys) on every inch of the floor, despite my pleas that they clean up for 4 days in a row. I walked the boys into the room and showed them what I saw and asked if they thought it was acceptable. They said no. They asked if they would still get their allowance this week, but they made no effort to pick up their toys. I wanted to bang my head into the wall. What have I created?

And so, today begins a new experiment in my parenting career. We skipped our regular trip to the library for storytime, and instead I emptied the toy room. I gutted it. While the boys screamed and begged for me to stop, I loaded up all their toys into boxes and took them to the garage. Afterwards we had a discussion about how they are not entitled to a room full of fancy toys, dessert after every dinner, and fun outings every day. I told them very calmly that they've become spoiled brats, and that I'm accepting part of the blame for what's happened because I'm the one who buys all the toys, gives them treats, takes them for outings, and doesn't expect an ounce of respect in return. And I told them that today things change. They will earn their toys back by keeping their room clean, respecting others, following directions, and refraining from acts of unkindness. Time outs will continue. Rewards (treats, fun outings, etc.) will be just that--rewards for good behavior, not a part of our regular routine.

Yes, this is poor timing. The baby will be here before we know it, and all of this will be put on the back burner while we just try to survive those first few weeks. Yes, it's going to be hard on all of us to change our old habits. But it's a good start, and I feel hopeful about things for the first time in weeks. Parenting is such an incredible responsibility. I have such a short amount of time to teach these little people to be responsible, compassionate, KIND adults. There's no room to be wishy-washy, even if it's more fun and seems to make the moment easier. I get it. I know this. Now, doing it is the hard part. Prayers, please.

32 Days to Go

The belly, 35 weeks

That's some serious belly.

The Mama with her boys

32 days until our Nolan is due
Life is good.

Thanks to http://www.when-did-i-become-my-mom.com/, I'm a blog award winner. Who knew you could be such a blog slacker and still win an award? Thanks a bunch!


So, I'm passing it on. As I understand it, you're supposed to accept the "One Lovely Blog Award" (check), post it on your blog together with a link to the person who nominated you (check--see above), and pass the award to other bloggers that you enjoy along with a personal contact to let the blogger know he or she has been chosen for the award. Oh, the pressure! So, here are the blogs I read every time I get the chance:

Adventures in Babywearing
4 little men and girly twins
Owlhaven
BECAUSE I SAID SO
Love Well
Casual Friday Everyday
The Extraordinary Ordinary

I love to read blogs, especially about parenting (it's nice to hear stories about other parents making the same mistakes I make each day!) I wish I had time to read more and keep up with these blogs better, but I'm struggling to keep up with my family some days. Anyway, go check out these bloggers and tell them I sent you. They're all worth your time.

Where, Oh, Where?

Where have I been?

I've been preaching. I was asked to guest preach at a little church in Seymour for two weeks. The first week I was there the electricity was out, and I preached by candlelight in the scorching hot little wooden church. It was very Little House on the Prairie. The second week the lights were back on (along with the air conditioning, thank goodness), and I had fewer jitters, so it went much smoother. I have really mixed feelings about this though. On the one hand, I loved being in the pulpit and sharing a message with the congregants (however few there were!), but on the other hand I just kept wondering what I was missing at my home church and feeling sorry that I had pulled the boys from the Sunday School classes that they love to visit a church with only one other child their age. So, I don't know where I'm headed right now, but I am thankful for the opportunity that came my way.

I've also been getting older. Yes, let's not make a big show of it, but the anniversary of my birth recently passed. I purposefully did not say birthday because I am not having any more of those. 29 was plenty. 30 sounds old. 30 feels old (or so I'm told, but I wouldn't know because I'm staying 29). I think it's made especially difficult because I can't dye my hair right now (on account of the little guy growing inside me), so my grays mock me every morning by multiplying faster than I can pluck them out.

And I've been incubating. Baby Nolan is due in 47 days (not that I'm counting or anything), and I am finally feeling PREGNANT. I have to type that in all caps because it can only be said in a heavy, groaning voice, and I can't recreate that for you here. So, PREGNANT is the best I can do. Overall, it's still been a really easy pregnancy, but now I feel like I have to struggle for breath, and my hips are finally hurting (as if they needed to spread some more, seriously), and his knees are so bony and poking me right in the gut. At my last appointment I asked the doctor to identify the huge bump in my abdomen that was causing me so much pain, and she said, "Well, that's your little guy's knee!" as if I should swoon and put it in his baby book. I guess I didn't look very happy because she offered to help me move him. Do you know how this is done? She had me lay down, then put both hands on my belly and, I'm not kidding here, she practically did a handstand she put so much weight on my middle. Yowza. That was unpleasant. The good news is that it worked--he turned on his side and moved his knees. The bad news is that he was back in the painful knee-forward position by evening. He gets the hiccups all the time, which, again, sounds cuter than it is. This child shakes his entire body when he gets the hiccups. This is only tolerable for about 3 minutes before I grow impatient with the full body jerk inside me every 5 seconds or so. So, if you ask me how I'm feeling, I'll probably answer, "PREGNANT." And that's about as good as can be expected at 33.5 weeks, huh?

Oh, and in my spare time I've been homeschooling and cleaning out closets to make room for fall clothes and washing and hanging baby clothes and visiting doctors (one ear infection, one diagnosis of Vitiligo, 3 dental cleanings, and a trip to the vet--in addition to my bi-weekly OB/GYN appointments) and also completely revamping our entire diet in the hopes that I can prevent little Aaron from getting back in the ear infection cycle this winter.

I'm very tired now.

31 Weeks

The belly, 31 weeks

Yes, I'm sure I'm only 31 weeks, but thanks for asking. It gets funnier every time I hear it.

My doctor says that he is measuring large and suspects that he'll come early.

I'm thinking he'll just be another huge Sharp boy, and I'm not expecting to go into labor until the turkey hits the table on Thanksgiving (making him 8 days late). I think I'll still want green bean casserole, even if I'm in labor.

So, tell me, when are you thinking he'll come? Lock in your votes now.

Dear Ei,

My Sweet Ei,

Today you turn 4 years old. In some ways it seems like you should still be my tiny baby, but you are so grown up that I often think of you as even older than 4.

When Jackson was still pretty little (about 5 months old) I took a little drive to the store by myself. I didn't get out much without him, and I had thought it would be really relaxing to spend some time alone. I got in the car and turned on the heat. As soon as the air in the car warmed up, I began to feel really sick--I mean, REALLY sick. I don't get carsick except when I'm pregnant so I decided to buy a pregnancy test while I was at the store. When I got home I took the test, meaning for it to be my little secret. No need to tell the world if it's a false alarm, right? I hadn't even had time to wash my hands when I noticed the two pink lines. I read the box to be sure: two lines=pregnant. Since the recommended time had not passed to read the test I told myself not to panic--maybe it would fade in a minute or so. When it didn't, I knew. I was pregnant. I cried. I was still very much new to this whole mothering thing. I wasn't sleeping through the night. I wasn't eating hot meals. I was still unsure of how to manage a baby and a grocery cart at the same time. How could I possibly handle another baby? I think I must have sat on the bathroom floor and cried for at least half an hour before I decided I would soon be missed. I tidied myself up and went about the day, unsure of how to tell your Daddy that he was about to be a daddy again. I told Aunt Becca first. Then, when I had given myself a couple of hours to digest the idea, I told Daddy. I prepared him for news I wasn't sure he was going to like. I'll never forget his response: "How could I be upset about a baby?" Suddenly, this whole second-baby thing seemed so much more manageable. I wasn't doing it alone. Daddy would be right alongside me, as would all of our family and friends. From that moment on, I never even considered crying about being pregnant again. I was scared, sure. And tired, absolutely. But I was so happy. I was also fiercely defensive for you. People joked about my little "oops" baby, and I adamantly explained that you were well-planned, just not by me. No, you weren't in my plans, little man, but God knew that our family needed you. And, boy, was He right.

You dropped into our world and instantly felt like you'd been a part of us forever. I think we might have called you Ethan once or twice before Jackson re-named you Ei. You became "Baby Ei" and would be until we dropped the "baby" and left it just Ei. You had this round bald head and ears that stuck out, and you looked exactly like Charlie Brown from behind. You adored Jackson from the beginning--no one could make you smile the way he could (and the feeling was mutual). You were on the move from the beginning, and I almost can't remember a time when you didn't talk in full sentences because you started talking so early. And your laugh. Oh, Ei, you didn't just laugh. You cackled. And your whole body laughed. You shook all over and turned red in the face and couldn't breathe you laughed so hard. It was impossible to be in the room with you and not laugh along with you. We started saying that your cuteness would keep you out of trouble. 4 years later, I'm sure we were right. You are so rotten, Mr. Ei. You tease and pick and stay on the verge of trouble, but your precious laugh still gets you out of trouble. Everyone who meets you is charmed. Your Sunday School teacher from last year still goes out of her way to talk to you. Your Bible School teacher made a point of telling me how much she adored you. People who barely know you fall in love with your mischievous smile and funny mannerisms. I can't tell you how many times someone has said to me, "I'd take Ei home with me in a heartbeat," or something similar. I always beam with pride. And you and your brother Jackson? It melts my heart to see the two of you becoming such good friends. You tell me often that Jackson is your best friend, and I hope that's true forever. You love each other so well.

You know how sometimes someone surprises you with something wonderful, when it isn't even your birthday or Christmas? Those are the best kinds of presents because they are so unexpected, and because it usually means the giver is so sure you'll love this particular gift that he just can't wait for a big occasion to give it to you. That's you, Ei. I had always planned on having more children. I knew I wanted more babies--someday. I really think that God had an idea for a great little person, and He was so eager to present it to me that it just couldn't wait until I thought to ask for it. You are my perfect little surprise. If I could have planned all my children to be surprises (which seems like an oxymoron, I guess), that's exactly what I would have done. I couldn't have planned anything as marvelous as your birth. I couldn't have designed a better relationship between brothers. I couldn't have imagined a more precious child. I am so lucky to be your mom, and I hope you know that. I hope you know how much I love you. I hope that you know how proud of you I am. I hope you know how wonderfully made you truly are.

Happy birthday, Big Boy Ei. I love you so very, very much.
Love,
Mama

The Eyebrows

What Aaron lacks in vocabulary, he makes up for in facial expressions. This particular look says, "You again? Go. Go now. Leave me alone with my Mama."

School's In!

Today started the 3rd week of homeschooling in the Sharp household. Many of you asked how it was going, so here's the scoop.


For the most part, it's going great. I'm teaching Jackson and Ei together, so that means Jackson is occasionally bored while Ei catches up, and Ei is occasionally lost while Jackson explores a more difficult concept, but for the most part we're all working together. Ei's attention span is really short, and I have to remind myself over and over that he's not even 4 yet. Both of them love science best and are fascinated by outer space. So, we've spent a lot of our free time this week watching video clips on the internet about space. I've actually learned a great deal too! Math is our hardest subject, mostly because there is such a gap between what Ei is doing and what Jackson is doing. I've been spending most of my one-on-one time in math so that Jackson doesn't have to go back to square one but Ei doesn't get lost. Ei does not enjoy seatwork of ANY kind, so he gets frustrated when I give him some work to do while I work individually with Jackson. The best part is when they recap the entire day for Daddy over supper. I'm constantly amazed at how much they retain. Even after a few really hairy scheduling days in which we fell behind on our plans for the day, we managed to get caught up and are currently right on target. So, overall, I'm really pleased, and the boys seem to be enjoying themselves (mostly) too.


We are back in Funtastic Fridays (our homeschool co-op) this year. Jackson and Ei are both taking a math class, a language class, a Spanish class, and karate. I was afraid that I had over-scheduled them (4 classes is a lot in one day), but they seem fine. We're always exhausted when we leave, but they enjoy all their classes.


Oh, and I get asked a lot about what I do with Aaron while we're doing school. Good question. He says the Pledge of Allegiance with us every morning (well, he puts his hand on his heart and mumbles), and he sits on the sofa with the boys while they're listening to a lesson. But while we're busy working on seatwork or doing hands-on projects, I often forget to keep a close eye on him, and this is what happens:

He self-teaches an art class. I give him an A for self-expression. Class dismissed!

The Belly

26 weeks

Yes, I still feel great.