Scarlett Elizabeth's Birth Story

Birth Story of Scarlett Elizabeth Owens

On the morning of October 22nd, I had finally overcome my feelings of anxiousness and decided to just let the baby girl come whenever she wanted. It was two days past my 40-week mark and I had spent the last full week doing all I could to naturally and safely induce labor: walked, ate spicy foods, had the OB strip my membranes (which is what put me into labor with Eden, my first daughter), walked, did lunges, bounced on my yoga ball, watched a good crying movie, chased my preschooler and toddler around, and walked. Still, apart from a handful of Braxton Hicks contractions and pressure, nothing was going on down there. 

Even though time was running out for my mom who had flown into town from her mission in Salt Lake City and had to fly back at the end of the week, that Tuesday morning I actually wanted to hold off going into labor until the next day because my doula had had a death in the family and was out of town Tuesday evening through Wednesday morning. I had received an e-mail from her with a list of my back up doulas should I need to use them while she was away. I hoped I wouldn't have to because I had fought tooth and nail to hire our doula, Anna Morgan. With all I had done the last week, surely the baby may stay in one more day.

I had decided to get a pedicure that morning since my mom could handle my girls at home. It was a glorious pampering that I hadn't indulged in since I was very pregnant with Eden. It had been nearly four years! Then I went grocery shopping and took my minivan in for an oil change. When I got home, we all ate lunch and everyone took a nap. While I tried napping, I started having contractions anywhere from 10-15 minutes apart, but not super consistent, and not very strong. I called the on-call doula, Patsy, just to let her know, and also just to introduce myself just in case I would be using her that night. I had developed a headache, so my mom took the girls for a walk while I got dinner on the table and tried to take it easy. That evening I didn't really have any contractions. Scott and I watched the Apple Keynote, and then we were in bed by 9:30. 

I started listening to some soothing hypnobabies tracks, hoping it would help my headache go away.  It worked. I fell asleep really quickly, but woke up at 10 PM when my water broke. I was still in denial, though, saying to myself, "well, it could still be quite a few hours before baby comes," so I took a quick shower. It was calming and soothed my back-labor contractions that were starting to kick in again around 10 minutes apart. I called Patsy and told her she should probably come to my house right then since it would take her 30 minutes at least. I called the on-call OB and told her I'd be coming in soon, but that it would be great if she could contact my OB, Dr. Heidemann, since she had delivered both Eden and Chloe and I knew she had just arrived back in the country that afternoon from a European vacation and wouldn't want to miss this baby's birth. Then I woke up my husband and told him my water had broken, but he didn't necessarily have to get out if bed right that second. 

I should have told him to get out of bed right that second.

Fifteen minutes later my contractions were three to five minutes apart, and although I was listening to my hypnobabies tracks, I was having an extremely hard time "catching the wave"  and felt super flustered with how quickly everything was progressing. I had to tell Scott a few more time to get out of bed and eventually pulled the blankets completely off if him and said, "We have to go. Now. Right now." Patsy arrived just long enough to suggest I take a potty break before heading up to the hospital. I did, and could barely get out of there because my body had started heading into transition. I got in the car and breathed through the contractions as best I could, but by the time we hit downtown Nashville, my uterus was pushing. If there had been ANY traffic, I would have had that baby on the side if I-24.

We hit a stop light just before the hospital that seemed so long I screamed at Scott to run it. He didn't, but it finally changed and we zoomed to Centenial Women's main entrance with me yelling. The hospital door was locked, and if there had not been people coming out at that moment, I may have had the baby on the sidewalk.

The ER entrance had people that smelled like cigarettes. I prayed I wouldn't have my baby right there. So was everyone else-- especially the front desk lady who had grabbed a wheel chair and was saying, "Oh, no... No, ma'am... No way, you are NOT having that baby in the hallway!" Like I'd be able to help it!

Someone else grabbed a gernie and I climbed up in my hands and knees, which was infinitaley more comfortable than hanging on Scott. He had left the car running with the doors open outside the hospital and ran off to park it. They wheeled me backed into the ER and I honestly was in such a blur as to what was going on around me. I couldn't see anyone's faces due to my position and I didn't care that all the nurses were helping me get my clothes off.  Less than a minute later, the gernie was being pushed into an elevator and rushed up to the delivery room. I crawled over to the delivery table. They had thrown a blanket over my back and legs. Patsy was somehow there beside me, though I have no idea how she got there. Then the baby started crowning and while I obviously couldn't speak, I knew I had to do something so that my baby wouldn't fall and be injured. So I reached down with my left hand and caught her head! When I got a breath, I groaned "Crowning!!" Patsy lifted the blanket and told me that she will never forget the image of me cradling my own baby's head while the hospital staff was sill buzzing around trying to get ready to deliver. Scott was across the room on the phone with registration and missed the whole thing. The on call doctor, probably a laborist who is always just available at the hospital, was an older soft-spoken man who quickly helped me hold the baby as I turned over and then one more push later, our newest baby girl had fully made her entrance into the world. The time was 12:10 AM on October 23rd, 2013. My first words were, "DON'T clamp that cord!" I had wanted a delayed cord clamping with Chloe, but didn't get it, and I would be darned if I let that happen again. I actually said it multiple times and the sweet old man said, "No one's clamping it." Then when it stopped pulsing he still made sure that for my liking it was the right time for Scott to cut it. (Side note: with Chloe whose cord was cut immediately, it took 3.5 weeks for her embelical chord stump to fall off-- a sign if an immune system deficiency. Eden's was over a week. Scarlett's fell off when she was 4 days old). About twenty minutes later my OB walked in. The on-call OB I had talked to on the phone never even made it in. 

Baby weighed in at 8 lbs. 5 oz., my biggest baby, and I didn't tear at all.

I was still wearing my shirt from home... And there was blood all over my hand... And my body was shaking harder than it may have if I was naked in Russia in January... But I was brimming with joy and felt like I had once again conquered the world! 

We named her Scarlett Elizabeth Owens. She's beautiful and we are thrilled that we have been blessed to be her stewards in this life. I love her so much already.

Something you'd rather not hear at 9-months pregnant

Isn’t it frustrating when things don’t go as planned—especially big things, like pretty much anything related to or involving pregnancy? We are expecting the arrival of Princess #3 around October 20^th. During the first of my weekly OB appointments today, my doctor states that she will be going to Denmark for her grandma’s 90^th birthday October 10^th through October 22^nd. Talk about poor timing for this very-pregnant momma! What frustrates me the most is that at 18 weeks when we had our last ultrasound and got the clear that everything was looking absolutely fantastic—even more “normal” than my first two princesses during that stage of fetal development—I talked to my husband about the possibility of switching to a midwife, simply because I wanted that kind of experience and who knows if I would again have the opportunity, especially with such a textbook-normal baby. After we discussed it, we decided to just stick with our current Obstetrician because after all, we know her, we like her, we trust her and she knows our history. Now, come to find out that it is likely she will not even be in the country during the prime time that the baby will come. It makes me have two thoughts:

1) Just get over it. You’ll have the doula you fought hard to get with you by your side regardless, so stop worrying and just let whoever is on call in the practice to catch the baby.

 2) This is the Lord’s way of giving you an opportunity to seek out a midwife and get that midwifery experience you’ve been kind of longing for and not feel guilty for “leaving” your OB.

I posted about it on Facebook and because I have a high number of pregnant friends, as well as birth-loving and natural-inclined mommas reading my posts, I got a lot of support and validation, which is such a great feeling. I love my support system—I don’t know where I’d be without great friends. Even though I haven’t seen most of these wonderful women for several years, being validated by them makes me feel so loved, and that’s awesome.

So, the next step is the conversation I’ll have with my husband when he gets off of work tonight. Logic does not like unnecessary change. It’s illogical, for lack of a better word. And I completely understand where he’d be coming from if that’s the way he feels. Switching this late in the game may also be an added financial burden, which simply wouldn’t go over well for anyone. Then again, it may turn out that he won’t care either way, and we end up finding a last-minute midwife that is just the rock-star we’ve always wanted! Who knows? I’ll pray about it. And pray about it some more… and I’ll keep everyone posted!

If you were in my shoes, what would you do? Let me know in the comments.

Dear Autumn, I LOVE YOU!

"It's Autumn time! It's Autumn time! The leaves are falling down. It's Autumn time! It's Autumn time! It's all around the town. It's Autumn time! It's Autumn time! There's yellow, red and brown! It's Autumn time! It's Autumn time! Bright colors can be found!"

These are the lyrics to my favorite, rarely sung Primary song that I taught my daughters last year when I was the primary chorister in our ward and both girls were in nursery together. Due to an early January birthday, P1 is still in nursery with P2  despite the fact that P1 has been ready to graduate since well before the end if last year ... But that's another topic for another time.

This post is about my happy season: Autumn. That blissful time of year when it's just the right temperature outside, and the air smells just like the sound of the leaves underfoot: crisp and gloriously invigorating. The brilliant colors-- red, yellow, brown, and my favorite color orange-- are also eye candy, especially here in the South where there are so many trees that it's positively breathtaking. And the taste of Autumn is right up there on the list, too. PUMPKIN! I heart pumpkin with every fiber of my being. I was once called the "Bubbah" of pumpkins, because just as Bubbah in Forest Gump loved every thing shrimp, I LOVE everything pumpkin! Pumpkin pie, pumpkin ice cream, the color of pumpkins, pumpkin seeds, pumpkin carving, pumpkin pancakes ... the list goes on.

Another awesome thing about Autumn is the month of October, which in my opinion is the greatest month of the year! My birthday is near the end, and who doesn't like their birthday (at least secretly)?! Of course, since marrying Logic who has a grade-school aged niece with a birthday two days after mine, it's definitely been different having to give up the attention torch. I grew up in a family where everyone had their own birth month. (I think this is a brilliant idea, by the way. Way to be smart, parents! *high five!*) Alas, unless P3 makes an appearance three weeks early, she will have an October birthday like her mommy. But you know, I'm actually okay with that because having a birthday during the best month of the year is the bomb-diggity. I hope, however, that she gives me slightly more breathing room than my niece did.

Halloween is also partially what makes Autumn time awesome. Dressing up has always been one of my favorite things. And though I abhor scary movies, I get my All Hallow's Eve fix with flicks like The Nightmare Before Christmas, Hocus Pocus, and It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown. Plus, free candy is a perk... And though I've become less and less interested in that part, I can't turn down a Starburst or fun-sized pack of skittles.

And these are just a few of the reasons why this is my happy season! And it could not have come at a better time because I need some extra happy to get me through some extra hard trials I've begun facing very recently (hence the last post being nearly 20 days ago). 

How do you feel Autumn measures up when compared to the other three seasons?

Princess 2 is 2!

Oh, good heavens! My miracle baby, P2, turned two-years-old today! We have been so blessed to have her and she definitely adds a lot of fun into our dysFUNctional family. If nothing else, she has taught me more than anyone else tremendous patience. I not only need this Christlike attribute to be a successful mother ("successful" being a term that never really has a clear definition), but in  all other areas of my life. Well, at least a little more patience... I still don't consider myself a patient person. But I haven't hit 30 yet, so at least little miss fiercely independent is helping me get a jump on it early in life.

I love you, my precious girl!

Sharks and Mountains

Thanks to a friend who is even more pregnant than I am, I had a kid-free trip to Nashville for P3's OB appointment. During the drive, I took advantage of the opportunity and ejected the music with songs about saying "Please and Thank You" and counting to ten, and rummaged through my old CD wallet to pull out something more "grown up." I decided on a mixed CD I received from a guy I was friends with in college after my trip to Russia in 2006. Three bars into the first track, I was unexpectedly pulled back to when I was 20 years old, living in Rexburg, ID as a full time student, facing about a trillion different paths that would dictate how the rest of my life would go.

The decisions I had to make during that time in my life were many, certainly, but I always felt like the path that I ultimately chose was the "right" one. After much praying, counseling with people I looked up to, and more praying, I decided to put my higher education on hold for 18 months, put off the suitors who could have easily been more than just the means to score free frozen yogurt on a Friday night, and to instead serve a full time mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Nashville, TN. I wouldn't know until after that mission had ended that it would be the means of meeting the father of my children. Making Logic a permanent part of my life was as easy as breathing. Again, the decision I made to marry him felt very "right". 

Though, through these four and a half years of building a life together after the covenants have been made has felt more like swimming through white rapids with sharp rocks that slice up your legs to attract sharks, than breathing easily while leisurely floating in a hot air balloon (something I've always wanted to do, by the way).

Would my life be easier if I picked one of those Friday night fro-yo guys over the path I did choose? Would my life be harder? Would I even be married at all? Undoubtedly my life would different... Or maybe Fate would arrange a different way for Logic and I to meet, but maybe not.

I look at friends and even family who jump ship when they see or start to feel rapids. But I haven't. Perhaps it's optimism. Maybe it's fear. It could very well be blind ignorance. I like to think that the stubborn commitment that Logic and I have for each other will do us well in the end, even in the midst of sea monsters tearing away at our flesh. It's hard, though, when there isn't an end in sight.

But then I watch things like this:

And I remember...

There is a balm in Gilead. The assurance that I won't ever be left forsaken is what keeps me grounded during times of white water. These days I feel like it's more difficult to know what the "right" choice is, but I do know that regardless of my mountain, I will climb it.

In the Birthing Mood

Two years away from contributing to the blogosphere has it's perks; people turn to other means of getting family updates from me, like an e-mail, a Facebook message, text, or even the occasional archaic telephone call asking how I, Logic, and the Three Princesses are doing. It has a sort of freeing sense to not be burdened with that personal guilt because certainly there are plenty of alternative sources to fill that daily quota. However, it has been nagging me recently--

As I was adding an entry to my personal journal this afternoon during Princess1 and Princess2's nap time (of which only P2 was actually sleeping and P1 was pulling every book off of her shelves and spreading her Hooked on Phonics cards all over her bedroom -- though quietly, so I just let it go), I realized that journaling was always something I loved to do before I got married and plunged into the whirlwind of family life. I remember honestly writing in an entry during college, "Oh, my gosh! It's been ten days since my last journal entry and I feel so bad that I haven't written in so long!" Yes. Seriously. Now, as I look at my DayOne app timeline where I keep all of my journaling, I pat myself on the back if I see two entries within the same month. In my entry today I contemplated what the real reasons were for my lack of recording. I came to the conclusion that I don't enjoy writing about difficult things or anything that causes me to be negatively emotionally compromised. And, let's be honest here, since I've been married my life has been one big emotionally compromising event after another. And who wants to relive all of that through writing about it? Not this woman. But what I think I want sometimes turns out to be the exact opposite of what I need. I need to write about it. I need that connection to what has happened by seeing it in black and white. And it isn't all negative, either! Another reason to make those memories and emotions permanent somehow. Yes, all very valid reasons for keeping a personal journal. But why go so far as a blog?

What really snapped me back into the world of blogging? Simply a comment made by an old high school soccer buddy of mine who just had her first baby. She said, "Now let's get your blog back up and going." That was it. But better than trying to resurrect something that wasn't terribly fantastic to begin, how about give birth to something new? I'm in the birthing mood anyway, since Princess3 is due to make her appearance in the next couple of months. So, here we go.

Does the title have a story? Why, yes it does. Thanks for asking. When I married Logic four and a half years ago, I went from having a moderately uncommon last name to a name where I share both first and last names with at least a dozen people in any given state. Not only that, the surname "Owens" is just as common as "Owen", so upon meeting anyone for the first time and having to relay my name, I've formed the habit of saying "Angie Owens, with an S." My husband does it, too, though for much longer, of course, than I've been doing it. And that's the story. Not terribly exciting, but apparently uncommon enough that the title wasn't already taken on blogger. I guess that's all it takes. Here's to a new adventure. I hope it's worth the ride.