A New Name

Ever since my daughter was born, I knew that she'd be a fighter, a stubborn fighter.

At the end of my pregnancy when I began having blood pressure issues, my doctor warned me that there was a good chance that if we couldn't hold off on labor that S would be spending time in the NICU. Simply put, I was 35+5 when I was induced and they said she was a tiny baby with immature lungs. When she came out gray and alien-like, I was afraid, worried, concerned. She made no noise, no sound. After sitting under the warmer and being coddled by the nurses for a few minutes though, her APGAR scores improved, it seemed like the steroid shots had worked, and we avoided a NICU stay.

Less than an hour old

I learned very early on that she was stubborn. She cried constantly. The doctors said it was because she was a preemie, because her formula was upsetting her tummy, because she had colic. She wanted to be held constantly (which meant that we've invested in many baby carriers). She had to sleep at a specific angle or she wouldn't sleep. She loved being swaddled. She had a certain way that she wanted things done- and she'd let you know when you weren't doing things "right".

4 months old

Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter- she just frustrated me sometimes. I knew that we were blessed to have a baby that would sleep in her own room and mostly slept through the night at a month old, but that didn't always help when she spent the entire day screaming and screeching and I felt completely helpless. I isolated and hid away. We didn't go to church because I was afraid that she'd scream the whole time. We didn't get a babysitter because I was afraid they might shake her, as we had learned to walk away when these thoughts began to arise. I struggled massively with anxiety and depression as my postpartum hormones still tried to find their way back to how they were pre-pregnancy. I felt like a failure as a mom. Most days, I wanted to be anywhere BUT with her- because the screaming and the crying and the screeching seemed to never end until bedtime. We had some happy moments, some smiles and giggles- but Year One was rough. The Fussy Baby Site and it's Facebook groups were some of my greatest support- they made me feel like I wasn't alone. It wasn't my fault that I had a fussy baby- it wasn't my fault for taking antidepressants during my pregnancy or for the anxiety, or for struggling and thinking that motherhood was hard. Simply put, S was the way she was because that was the way that God had created her- extra sensitive- and that was okay.

After a year of dialectical thinking (that this motherhood thing IS hard AND it was okay to be that way), we reached S's first birthday. It was a hard day. The movers were packing up our things to send ahead to Maryland, my kid was a year old, and in a lot of way- it didn't feel like things were better. Sure- she was crawling FINALLY, she was starting to use words sometimes, and was starting to become a little person- but I was still unhappy. Being a mom wasn't anything like I had planned. I was mourning the loss of the child that I had always imagined that S would be like. I was grieving the way that the first year had gone, the loss of an innocent dream of childhood that having a baby would be magical. Newsflash- it wasn't. 

First birthday

I realized that I had a choice. I could choose to keep being sad about the way that things were, or I could change my expectations. I could keep believing that S would eventually be a "normal baby" and everything would turn out "the way it should" OR I could let go of that ideal and embrace the idea that God made S extra special, unique, and that He made her this was for a reason and a purpose that would be revealed someday (even if it wasn't today). I decided to take a chance and try the second option. After all, I'd spent the entire first year upset about things, would it really hurt to try a new approach? With this new approach, I decided that it was a time for a new beginning. We were moving to a new state where we'd be with all new people that didn't know how S's first year had gone or what our background was, or what we've been through individually and as a family. And with this choice, we gave our child a new name.

Some of you may be curious why I've suddenly stopped referring to "S" as "SC" or "Sarah Claire". Simply put, it's because we no longer call her Sarah Claire, or even Sarah, for that matter. Are they beautiful names? YES! But to be perfectly honest, I had hesitations about her name since she was first born and people asked if she was Sarah with an A or an H. It's one of those crazy pet peeves of mine. But, by that time, the birth certificate had been filled out and I didn't feel like I had a choice in the matter. After all, we had such a hard time coming up with a name that we liked, and WHAT kind of parent decides to change their kid's name after they're born and everything formal is already done?! (If you were wondering, it's something like 1 in 5). "Sarah" is a hard name for nicknames as it's already pretty short, but I didn't want to have to legally change her name. A few internet searches later, and I found out that "Sadie" is a nickname of Sarah. I loved the name Sadie (it was a name that I considered for future children until I found out the nickname status), and T agreed to give it a try. We tried it out secretly for a few weeks (calling her it while we were home, or when we were introducing her to other people that we'd never see again), and then- we just did it. When we moved to Maryland, we started introducing her as Sadie, we told our families that it was her name now (or at least I THINK we've told all of our families....surprise if you didn't know!). And honestly, it fits her. It's got the right amount of spunk for our rambunctious kiddo. I love the fact that it's short and not a double name (which is just too much work to call out 24/7 to a high needs baby). And...as silly as it sounds, it makes me love my kid even more, because there isn't the trauma from the first year associated with it (is that bad to say...because I'm still going to say it because I'm being honest and true here and it has been a struggle to love at times). Now that we've been in MD for almost two months and we are starting to make friends that are slightly confused by my Facebook calling "Sadie" "Sarah", I felt like it was time to make an announcement- even if it did seem slightly awkward. Hey- at least I can call Sadie by her name now without weird questions!

Are our high needs issues over? Nope. They aren't. We still have rough days most days. I still am afraid to leave her with a babysitter and she still cries her way through service on Sunday mornings so we struggle to decide to go to church. She now throws tantrums and is currently refusing to use any of the words she knows. She's strong willed and stubborn AND that's okay. We can work on these things as she gets older- and now that I've started to accept that this IS what it is...things are going better most days. I'm anxious, but I'm not as anxious. I'm depressed, but I'm not as depressed. Progress, not perfection...right? 

And that's the story of how I changed my 1 year old's name...and it's okay. 

Oh- and yes, her legal name is still Sarah Claire and if as she grows up she decides that she wants to go back to being called Sarah or Sarah Claire or Claire, we will fully support that. But for now- she's Sadie. :)

Sarah Claire's Birth Story

We had a baby!

Sarah Claire decided to make her entrance into the world about four weeks early, so we've spent the last two weeks snuggling with a cute baby that squeaks and hiccups. I decided it was about time to write out her birth story, but that's where things get interesting. You see, I don't really remember my child's birth thanks to a mixture of preeclampsia and a lovely drug called Magnesium Sulfate (it's not really all that lovely). So, with some help from my husband and looking through pictures that I have no memory of being taken...the birth story.

It all started on a Saturday.

I was having contractions (nothing new about that- I'd been having Braxton Hicks since I was about 6 weeks pregnant) that were starting to pick up in intensity and becoming closer together (about 5 an hour) along with a terrible headache. When I called the birthing center on base where I received my prenatal care, they were a bit worried about the headache, so they told us to come on in and get checked out. While I was there, we ruled out preterm labor, but my blood pressure was on the high side, so I was diagnosed with gestational hypertension and told to come back on Monday for a Non-Stress Test (which come to find out can be pretty stressful).

That Monday, T and I went to base for my NST. We planned on it being a pretty short event- it was supposed to take about 20 minutes, then we would be on our way and I'd hang out on base while T went to class. We joked about the baby deciding to come that day, since it was February 29th and she'd probably like to be dramatic with her entrance. The test went fine, but as I started to get up, I got really dizzy and my headache got worse, so they took me over to Labor and Delivery for observation to see if we could figure things out. We decided it was probably a migraine, probably not preeclampsia, possibly allergies...but they kept me overnight, just in case. I went home, still with a terrible headache that wasn't really controlled by medication, but we thought that the worst of it was over. I was having a bit of anxiety and overwhelmed feelings, so my mom decided that she would come up for a few days and see if a short visit helped these feelings. She got into town on Wednesday night, and that's when things got interesting.

Early Thursday morning, I began experiencing more contractions. I waited a few hours, but they weren't going away, so I decided to wake T and we went in to Labor and Delivery again. I woke my mom and told her that she could just stay home, because I was 99.9% sure that this was a false alarm...but my anxieties just needed to make sure that everything was okay.

It wasn't.

Once again, it wasn't my contractions that were alarming- it was my blood pressure. This time, my blood pressure was in the 160s-180s (we think- I don't actually remember too much from this point onward, so I'm depending on my husband for the details) so I immediately was placed on magnesium, a terrible horrible catheter was inserted (seriously- it was a traumatic experience- it took three people ten minutes to figure out what they were doing), and since I was only 35 weeks 5 days (and shy of the 36 week mark that they require to deliver on base), I was sent downtown to a larger hospital with a NICU. I'm told that I accidentally kicked a full bird colonel when he lightly touched my knee to tell me that it would all be okay and that they'd take great care of me down at Miami Valley- my reflexes were pretty active.

An ambulance ride later (in the snow, of course), we settled in at our new hospital and I was told that not only were they trying to get my blood pressure down- they were also going to start inducing labor and we would not leave the hospital without a baby. I don't think I grasped the seriousness of the situation (and I wouldn't until about a week later when I finally got my wits about me again, got off of magnesium, and talked to my mom about everything). Apparently, I was in the L&D ICU, but I was pretty out of it (as I've mentioned many times). Over the course of three days, I think that we tried just about every single induction method. It was terrible. I felt terrible. Everything hurt and no progress was being made. Finally on Saturday, we started to see little bits of progress and they broke my water. Sometime that day, I got an epidural (which kind of worked, but I still felt things that I wasn't supposed to feel...). I began to get increasingly frustrated and begged for a c-section- I just wanted it to be over, because it was a miserable experience. Over and over again, the doctors and nurses urged me to give it "just a little longer", telling me that a vaginal delivery would be less painful and the recovery would be easier.

And then things began to happen very very fast. 

At one check I was a seven.

Then, things got very very painful and urges to push this baby out right now happened.

Forty minutes after hearing that I was a seven, I was a ten and the baby was coming.

Fifteen minutes and two contractions later at 12:27 AM on March 6th, 2016 (Sunday), our Sarah Claire entered the world.

I was very worried.
Many of the doctors that I had seen had told me that most likely Sarah would be going to the NICU after she was born. She didn't cry as she entered the world and as T would tell you, she looked quite gray and alien-like (I'm sparing you guys the pictures mostly because she's nakkie and I don't think she'd appreciate me showing the internet those things, but also because it's kind of creepy seeing your baby look that drugged up). She was a little slower to "wake up" as I'd been on magnesium for several days, but eventually she gained some color and even scored a 7 on her five minute Apgar. Our 5 lb 11 oz, 36 weeker surprised everyone by not going to the NICU- she actually did much better than her Mommy (who we think hemorrhaged during labor based on blood loss and what the doctors were doing...but I guess I was at a pretty awesome hospital for delivery, because I didn't have to have a blood transfusion and the doctors stayed pretty calm through it all).

 I was kept on magnesium for 24 hours after birth, and then monitored for 24 additional hours to see how my blood pressure did. My mom stayed with me for many of these hours as T was in the midst of finals and final projects (we like to say that Sarah picked the absolute worst week of the semester to come). Even off of the magnesium, I still don't remember much of Sunday or Monday. I was very swollen from all of the fluids, so I was stuck in a hospital gown for much of the time as none of my clothes fit. I remember being weighed on the Sunday morning after I delivered and weighing 189 pounds- I weighed about 180 the week before at my Non-Stress Test- and that was after delivering the baby and all of that jazz. There was that much fluid on me.

Finally, on Tuesday morning, we got to go HOME!

 Of course, the "excitement" doesn't end there.

After one night at home, I was back in the hospital (this time on base). On Wednesday afternoon, I had a blood pressure check (which of course I failed...). Apparently doctors don't like when you are about 4 days postpartum and the upper number is in the 160s and the bottom number is in the 90s-100s. Who knew.

After another night on magnesium (I really really hate that stuff, even if I did kind of save my life) two lasix treatments, and peeing out EIGHT LITERS of fluid overnight...my blood pressure went down (though I'm still on meds for it), I was much much less swollen, and I felt much better (as in, I could walk and wear shoes and pants). We went out to Panera on the way home to celebrate finally being free from the hospital life. As an added bonus, at my next blood pressure check that Friday, not only was my blood pressure good- my weight had decreased to about five pounds short of my prepregnancy weight- yes, apparently fluid can weigh that much.

At two weeks postpartum, I'm feeling pretty good. My mom has gone home, my husband is on break, and my baby girl is pretty awesome (though she'd be more awesome if she'd quit messing up her days and nights). All in all, we are blessed. Things could have gone so much differently- we could be making trips downtown over the break to visit Sarah in the NICU, but instead we get to snuggle her in her arms. Even though preeclampsia wrecked my birth plans and things turned out wildly different than I imagined it would go (and probably scared me off from having any more babies), I survived and didn't suffer too much irreparable damage- my doctor even says I might be off the blood pressure meds by 6 weeks postpartum. Even T got something good out of it all- with all of the waiting at hospitals, he's apparently caught all of the Pokemon- gotta catch em all, I guess. ;)

And that is the story of how Sarah Claire P entered the world. 

(I think)