What’s in a Name?

So last week we found out that Durrenbaby 2: Electric Boogaloo actually has a sex!

And it is…

a BOY!

Yay!

::shifty eyes::

Yeah so I went a whole week knowing the gender of my baby and forgot to blog about it. Sorry. I’m actually currently in the process of transitioning between jobs, which means I’m pulling double work duty right now, so I only kind of feel bad.

Anyway.

So, of course, the first thing people ask when they find out the sex of our baby is, “Do you have a name picked out?”

And yes, we do.

DB2EB’s name is

Case Daniel.

Gah! It’s in writing now! It’s so legit!

And naturally, after I tell people the name, they furrow their brow, assuming they didn’t hear me right and ask, “Oh. Case? Does it have a meaning?”

I kind of want to reply back with, “Nah. I just really like cases. You know, like, briefcases and beer cases and CD cases, so I thought I’d name a person after one.”

But I’m not a jerk. So I don’t say that.

We got the same thing when we named our first son Dax. I guess people just think we’re weird for the sake of being weird. But there is a method behind our weirdness, and here it is.

DAX ARTHUR:

It’s a tradition in Dan’s family to name boys with D names. (He is Dan, his dad is Don, and so on.) So when we found out we were pregnant, we scoured every baby name book we could find for a good D name. And you know what? We didn’t like a single one. Not. A. One. So we felt a little dejected.

But a few weeks later, a new kid came to our youth group and introduced himself as Dax. And as soon as the name came out of his mouth, Dan and I looked at each other and just knew — that’s our name!

According to some translations, Dax means “water”. Which is kind of eh. But in other translations, it means “leader”, which I think is an obvious fit, especially for my first born.

His middle name Arthur is the same middle name of my cousin Brian. He and I grew up so close together, basically like siblings, so I always knew that if I had a boy I wanted to name him after Brian somehow. And how rad does Dax Arthur sound?

CASE DANIEL:

So, the middle name is obvious. That’s after Dan.

But the first name… Case…

When we got pregnant this time around, we were a bit stumped. Dax was, as you now know, LITERALLY the ONLY name we liked for a boy. So, one night, we were sitting around running through other names.

“Do we have to do another D name?”

“No, we already did that. So I think we can move on to other names.”

“What names do you like?”

“I don’t know…”

And that went on for SEVERAL minutes. It got so frustrating that we started talking about something else, which led me to bring up a story involving this guy, who just happens to not only be my pastor and mentor, but also an adopted dad.

“What about Eric? You have another cousin named Eric?”

“Yeah but it doesn’t sound super great with our last name. Plus I went to high school with like five Erics and they were all jerks to me.”

“Hmm. You’re right.”

“But..but…hey, um. What do you think about Case?”

“Case?”

“Yeah…”

“I like it!”

“Me too!”

“Case Daniel?”

“Yeah!”

And that’s literally how we named our second born son after an entire family of dear friends of ours. And I am so proud of and grateful for his namesakes.

I also really like beer cases.

Dax’s Birth Story

A lot of people have been asking, and I’ve been meaning to document it for my own personal records, so here we go.

“What does labor feel like?”

That’s the text message I sent to my friends Ashley and Elizabeth Joy around 11  AM on Wednesday, July 18th. They responded, and their answers were pretty similar to the way I had been feeling since about 9 AM.

I was having pretty painful contractions, which kind of felt like I was getting the period from hell. I would get up, walk around, drink water, and nothing would alleviate the pain. But, despite Ashley and EJoy’s assurance that, yes, I was more than likely having a baby, I was reluctant to believe it. After all, it was exactly a week before Dax’s due date.

At their instruction, I finished up a project I was working on and told my boss I was going to work from home the rest of the day. I figured that I’d go home and lay down and the contractions would subside. After an hour or so of laying down with the contractions only growing stronger and more frequent, Dan insisted we go into triage for the fourth time, even though I really didn’t want to. I figured it was just another case of false labor and I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. But I finally relented because, “After all,” Dan said, “the worst they can do is send us home again.”

When we got into triage, the nurse joked with us that, perhaps, the “fourth time’s the charm.” When she went to check my cervix, I pleaded with her.

“Please tell me this is labor,” I begged, “because this is really awful, and if it’s not labor, I don’t know what I’ll do when real labor happens.”

A few seconds later she nonchalantly affirmed me. “You’re about four — no wait — five centimeters dilated and, yes, this is labor, and you will be admitted.” The words came out of her mouth so plainly, as if they weren’t some Godsend of a message. But, no matter how flatly she explained it, tears sprung to my eyes as I looked at my husband.

“We’re having a baby!” he said proudly.

They admitted me right away and they whisked me away to the room where I’d deliver my child, and Dan popped in the first Harry Potter film. (Hey — there are 8 movies. It was a good idea to bring them all!)

Our birth plan was to have no medicinal interference, but we also were humble enough to have open minds, just in case. I labored hard and strong, progressing nicely, until about 9:30PM, putting me in labor just over 12 hours. At that point, my contractions were so intense and painful that I was positive I was in transition. But I was wrong. My body was stalled out at 8 centimeters.

No matter what I did, my cervix refused to dilate any more. Even though my contractions were right on top of each other for hours, there was no movement. So finally, after talking it over with Dan, I asked for and got medication. First through my IV, then an epidural.

From there, there was a lot of waiting. My body still wasn’t progressing, so the doctors had to break my water. But Dax was already so far down, pushing hard against my stubborn cervix (evidenced by the CRAZY BIZARRE shape of his head upon entry into the world) that breaking my water did nothing. So the doctors and nurses had to manually move my cervix out of the way (just imagine what that must have felt like without an epidural) in order for Dax to progress.

I felt the extreme urge to push, and I did for a good while, but one of the nurses (who happens to be the mother of a good friend of mine!) suggested that I just lay there and wait for Dax to move down on his own until it was absolutely unbearable and I had no choice but to push. To avoid exhaustion, I agreed, and laid back to watch Goblet of Fire. (Yeah, we made it to the fourth movie.)

After awhile, I was pretty positive I had to push. So I called the nurses in. They checked me and one of them said, “Yep, you’re ready, you’re going to have a baby in less than 30 minutes.”

OH MY GOSH!

So, they called the doctor in and, with one nurse holding one leg and Dan holding the other, I pushed for about 20 minutes until I heard my sweet babe’s first cry. And then I cried.

I’m a bit disappointed in myself for opting for pain medication, honestly. And I think Dan was disappointed, too. But ultimately I think that our birth went exactly the way that God wanted it to go — Dax came out perfectly fine and healthy, with no complications, and I was still able to feel a lot, so I was very connected to the experience.

I can’t write it in words, but the feeling of hearing my baby and seeing him for the first time? It’s hands down the most precious, special, perfect moment I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never known such love.

And now that I’ve given birth I know I can do pretty much anything.

38 Weeks

This week, several people (independent of each other, mind you!) remarked that I’m way too “small” to be two weeks away from my due date. A nurse even used the word “tiny”!

As someone who hasn’t felt anything but HUGE for as long as I have, it’s been a good week.

Here we are at 38 weeks! (FYI, if you click on the pictures, you can enlarge them.)

Ready when you are, sweet boy!

36 & 37 Weeks

Last week:

This week (full term!):

I don’t even know what my real body looks like anymore. It will be so weird to not be/look pregnant.

I can’t wait to meet that little basketball in my shirt!

Lazy and Overwhelmed

I’m just about 37 weeks along now. That’s full term, y’all. Very exciting, but also very scary.

What’s REALLY scary, though, is how lazy I have become lately. (Many people say I’m just “resting” up but honestly, I just feel lazy.) The other day, for instance, I went to sleep at 7PM. I slept till my alarm at 7AM. Last night, I didn’t even get up in the middle of the night to pee. And not because I didn’t have to. I always have to pee. I’m just That. Freaking. Lazy. I’d rather lay in bed and squeeze my legs shut tight than get up and pee.

I think my crowning “lazy” achievement was skipping lunch one day because I was simply too lazy to get up and go to the break room to make myself a sandwich. MY CUBE IS RIGHT OUTSIDE THE BREAK ROOM, YOU GUYS.

Seriously. It’s that bad.

In true lazy (bulleted) fashion, here’s my 37 week update for you:

• My coworkers threw me a surprise baby shower! It was so nice and unexpected! Thank you all! (See photo.)
• At last check, I was 3 centimeters dilated and 75% effaced. My doctor also complimented my cervix, saying she’d be “tickled pink” (yep, really) to already be that far along before active labor. I’ve never had someone compliment my cervix before. I’m so flattered.
• I’ve also never posted anything on the Internet before concerning my lady bits. But now, since I’m expecting a baby, it’s totally acceptable and normal for me to do that.
• Also. My boobs are officially functional. Aren’t you so glad you know that?
• Pregnant women can do anything they want. Much like honey badgers.
• A lot of you have been asking for pictures of the nursery. Sorry, I can’t give you that, because I’m doing the opposite of nesting. This is what it looks like: I walk into the nursery. I see that, while it’s put together for the most part, there are still clothes to be sorted and put away, there are no sheets in the crib, there is no cover on the changing pad, there are no sheets in the bassinet(s) (yes, we were gifted several), and there are no decorative things on the wall, and then I turn around and walk out and shut the door. As if putting it off one more day is going to help at all. Chalk it up to either I’m a horrible mother or the lazy thing. (My money’s on lazy, but I can’t deny that the idea that I’m also a bad mom is always in the back of my mind.)
• My good friend Emily is exploring a career in massage therapy and has so graciously offered to practice on me weekly until baby boy shows up. It’s probably the best thing to happen to me since actually getting pregnant.
• I’ve had to remove myself from Facebook to protect myself from the onslaught of unsolicited birth/labor/parenting advice I’ve been receiving. I’m too overwhelmed, emotional, and hormonal to take it.
• My friend Ashley, who was 4 weeks ahead of me in pregnancy, just gave birth to sweet baby Jack. At the beginning of this, I told myself it’d really hit me when Ashley gave birth. Well. I guess I was right. Because up until now, I’ve been waiting on Jack. Now, there’s no one left to wait for except my son. My. Son. (Oh yeah. And finish the nursery. But let’s be real, here. Until this nesting instinct kicks in, if it does at all, that’s just getting ignored.)

I’m too lazy to effectively end this post. So bye.

Maternity Photos — We Did It!

Welp, we took your advice and went for it! And there is actually quite the back story…

After I posted this blog, our friend Leah who does photography in Orlando offered to do maternity shots for free. We were so blown away by her offer! We set up a date and were all ready to travel down when, oops, I had a close call with false labor.

The doctor advised us not to travel, lest we wanted to have a baby in Orlando (we really don’t) so we had to cancel with Leah.

However, I was so excited about having photos done, I racked my brain to try to think of an alternative. Then I remembered our good friend and budding photographer Sammie!

I messaged Sammie on Friday asking her if she was free the next day to shoot for us (after all, we weren’t sure how long this kid was going to be in my belly) and she obliged!

We agreed to take the photos at Railroad Square which was nostalgic, because that’s where we had our engagement photos with Ashley taken so long ago. It all comes full circle, I guess!

Here are some of our faves from the shoot (sorry if they’re huge):

Thanks again, Leah and Sammie! Y’all rule!

We’re On Our Own, Now

S’pose it’s time for a wee bit of an update, don’t you think?

Here we are. 35 weeks. Five weeks away from Dax’s due date and two weeks away from full term. As a friend of mine pointed out, I can now count down everything on one hand. That’s just nuts.

This week, we had dinner with some friends who had their baby boy a couple weeks ago. Their baby boy who, by the way, was due only a week before Dax. The reality is that this baby could seriously come at any moment. Crazy, right?

So. What’s been going on?

Well, for starters, we had a “brush with birth”, so to speak. I haven’t told many people about it because I didn’t want to freak anyone out. But, on Saturday, I took a bath in the morning and when I got out of the tub, I noticed some… stuff floating in the water. Stuff, I should mention, that is associated with the start of labor. (I’ll spare you the details because, quite frankly, everything about going into labor is pretty gross.)

Unfortunately, Dan was already gone and at a pool party he was in charge of throwing for the church. So I carefully put my bathing  suit on and made my way to the public pool. When I got there, I pulled him aside and told him about what I’d experienced that morning and that, after texting a few close mom-friends, I deduced we should probably go to the hospital just to check to make sure everything was okay.

Long story short, everything’s fine. Nothing to write home about. I was, however, put on “pelvic rest” for two weeks. (We’re all grown-ups here, right?)

After that, I went home and spent my afternoon on the couch. Then, some sweet friends, the Hookers, came over to hang out and have dinner. The boys (Dan, Daniel, and baby Isaiah) all hung out while Elizabeth Joy and myself really took to organizing the nursery. (And by “Elizabeth Joy and myself” I really mean “Elizabeth Joy while I sat on my birth ball and tried to not move at all due to the morning’s brush with birth.”) There are still some minor details that need to be worked out and some random things that need to be put away but, for the most part, everything’s coming together quite nicely. I am so thankful for you, Elizabeth Joy!

On Monday, we had our last childbirth class. We took a tour of the labor and delivery unit as well as the postpartum floor so we were all able to see what we’ll be dealing with in a few weeks. The birth bed is kind of like the most elaborate thing I’ve ever seen. I’m pretty sure you can set that thing to turn into a pretzel if you so choose. There is also a shower and Jacuzzi bathtub in each room. I have a feeling that’s where the majority of my labor will take place. Our class was supposed to end at 9PM, but at 9:30, Heidi asked us all if we had any questions. When we didn’t, she dismissed us, and none of us wanted to leave. I think reality set in; once we left the hospital, we’d be on our own, expected to give birth to and then raise these children by ourselves, without Heidi to comfort us or guide us. It was really frightening. We were a bunch of baby birds Heidi was haphazardly tossing out of her nest, hoping to fly but really just plummeting to the ground below.

We’ll be fine, I’m sure.

Thoughts on Father’s Day

When I first got pregnant, my mom asked me a really jarring question:

“Do you want me to try to track down your dad and tell him you’re pregnant?”

I didn’t know what to say.

For those of you who don’t know, I haven’t seen my father since I was nine. And the last time I talked to him I was nineteen. It wasn’t even a conversation, really; it was a four-page letter I wrote him telling him to get out of my life forever.

Long story, I guess.

Anyway, while my gut reaction was a hearty HELLS NO, I decided to not go with that. I gave it some thought and prayed about it and then talked it over with Dan and concluded that if Mom could reach my dad, he could know about his grandchild. But the extent to which he’d be involved in our child’s life would be at our discretion.

She hasn’t found him yet, so who knows what will happen.

But as Father’s Day approaches, I can’t help but think about him. And my son. And the fact that, because of my son, this is the first Father’s Day I can remember having a father figure of some kind to truly be thankful for — my husband.

Granted, he’s not a father figure to me. That void is still very real in my life and probably always will be, despite being raised by a great woman. But, if the American Dream is for our kids to have it better than we did, Dan will certainly fulfill at least this part of that dream for our kids.

Sure, he has flaws. All parents do.

But he really loves me. He truly, honestly, wholeheartedly, loves me. And I know he already loves our baby more than either one of us can fathom, even though Dax is still in my belly.

But, more than anything, he’s here. He’s committed. And I know that nothing could ever tear him away from us.  That is truly invaluable.

Dan, I love you so much and am so thankful for you. Happy Father’s Day.

Getting Uncomfortable

Here we are, 32 weeks and 5 days, and it seems as though Dax is growing faster than my uterus can handle! I should be gaining about a pound a week from here on out, with most of it going to my boy. It’s so exciting! But it also means that I’m officially pretty uncomfortable.

Sleeping has become a bit of a challenge. I am now limited to two positions. The first is on my left side, cuddling with a body pillow, and/or my husband. (Or both! Last night I fell asleep cuddling my body pillow with my palm on Dan’s chest. I’m sure it looked and felt pretty awkward for him, but it was nice for me.) I don’t know why this works, or why it’s more beneficial than my right side. But it’s what I’ve read in all the pregnancy books. So I’m trusting it’s the right way.

It’s true that back pain is not atypical in pregnancy. But it’s usually lower back pain. For me, though, it feels as though someone has lodged a jagged knife under my right shoulder blade. It is an intense pain that doesn’t wane, either. It is constantly hurting. (It hurts right now.) The only time I don’t feel it is when I lay on the ice pack and numb it into submission. And so, the second sleep position I can stand is face up with an ice pack wedged between the bed and my upper back. To those of you who suffer from chronic pain of any kind? I offer my sincerest condolences.

(Side note: at our childbirth class last night, I found out that Heidi, the teacher, is also a massage therapist. She took about five minutes to massage where it hurts and OH HEAVEN I NEED HER AROUND 24/7.)

When I’m not sleeping, I’m sweating. (Oh, who am I kidding? I’m sweating when I’m sleeping, too.) A born-and-raised Florida girl through and through, I’ve never been bothered by the 100-degree summers that start in April. But this year, it’s pretty brutal for me, because my internal temperature is already consistently elevated. I’m trying to freeze my poor Chicagoan husband out of our apartment. So far, though, we both still live there. He just has to utilize more blankets than he’s used to.

But, despite the persistent pain and how inconvenient it is, I can’t ignore the amazing cause of it all: my sweet little boy! And the miraculous fact that he’s growing inside my body! INSIDE MY BODY!

Dan also pointed out that this could be the only time I’m ever pregnant. I honestly had never even thought about that. So I don’t want to take any bit of it for granted; even the uncomfortable parts. This could be the only time my body works this kind of miracle, and I’ve only got about seven weeks left to enjoy it.

Cheers!

Only 9 Weeks Left!

HOWWWW are there only 9 weeks left until my due date? What?!

Oh, and you know you missed the chalkboard. (Well, if you didn’t, I certainly did.) Here I am!

It’s late, and I’m tired, but there are definitely things I want to update you all on. So here we go… bullet style!

• The exhaustion I currently feel rivals that of the first trimester. The good news is that I can sleep through pretty much anything. The bad news is that’s literally all I want to do. Makes having a job and, you know, a life pretty difficult. And let’s not get me started on the fact that our new apartment is still a wreck from the move and…
• The nursery isn’t even close to ready. Basically, it’s just a storage room filled to the ceiling with boxes of things I got from my baby showers. Just looking at it makes me want to cry. Does anyone want to come over and go through all this stuff with us and, oh I don’t know, help us put this room together so our baby has a place to sleep once he gets here? Anyone? Bueller?
• However, we were gifted a bassinet. So we have that at least. I mean, we have a bassinet, diapers, and my boobs. Does he really need anything else at first? I mean really.
• I believe I’ve started to have Braxton Hicks contractions. They don’t feel like I assumed they would; rather, it just feels like my whole belly tightens up and gets really hard. It doesn’t hurt at all. It’s just strange.
• Dax certainly has particular patterns of movement. For instance, if I want any of my friends to feel him kick or move, all I have to do is lie horizontally. He’s evidently not a big fan of that. (That also makes getting comfortable at night rather complicated.)
• I felt nauseous today for the first time in the history of me being pregnant. Also, it feels like I’ve been pregnant for all of history.
• At our birthing class on Monday, we watched a video (and by “video” I don’t mean a digital video disc. I MEAN A VHS TAPE) about the “stages of labor” that included a live birth. I looked around the room and found that all the males were taking this like a champ, whereas us females were all about to collectively schedule our own c-sections. One girl in my class didn’t even know about delivering the placenta. If you’d like to hear a dude’s perspective on it, I bet Dan will blog soon. Right Dan?
• I am so excited to meet this kid! I bet he’s gonna be rad.

That’s all! Goodnight, folks.

— Lindsay