Charlie's Birth Story

It is 4:15am, and Charles is laying in his pack n' play next to me, grunting and begging me to write his birth story down before I forget.

I will happily oblige.

 

On January 3, 2017, I had an appointment scheduled with my OB's office for early morning. It was a very rainy day and I was not eager to drag all the kids out...just for the doctor to send me home again with instructions to "Lay low, coast to the finish line, keep the stress at a minimum, sleep, drink lots of water and come back in two days so we can tell you your blood pressure is AWFUL AND WE CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!"

 

ok. I may have added on that last piece.

 

Whatever.

 

I had been waiting to be induced for over a month at this point. We really thought that Charles would be coming early because my health has been in danger for such a long time. But, at every appointment, they would tell me to go home and rest and come back again in a couple days. Even Saint Matt of Belleholm was getting upset. "Why are we gathering data if we aren't utilizing it?!?"

 

I did NOT make that quote up.

 

Poor husband. He had been so patient, doing all his work and allllll my work for so long.

 

Back to January 3rd. I packed the sensational six in the van and met Matt at the office parking lot. He climbed in the driver's seat as I waddled into the waiting room. My appointment started off with a weighing in and then a BP check. (WHY OH WHY do they weigh me BEFORE checking my blood pressure?! That is good for an increase of approximately 4mmHg, right there!) My blood pressure at this visit was 192/89. Never had I seen these numbers before while gestating. I started crying. I cried through my urine test. I cried walking down the hallway. I cried while waiting for the doctor.

And then.

A midwife walked in.

And she had pity on my soul.

She promptly told me that my doctor was actually on a cruise and wouldn't be around for another week or so.

But.

But.

 

 

"Let's see if we can get things stirred up a bit!" she said.

 

Right on.

 

She did an internal and saw that I was about 3cm and 50% effaced. She swept my membranes and told me the most amazing thing.

 

"Go home and walk around."

 

YES, M'AM!

 

So I ran out to the car and told Matt to go to work but wait for my call. The baby is coming today! I am going to run a marathon! I am going to do the stairs until I can't breathe! I am going to...go home and teach the six kids in the back of this Express van.

 

I drove home, having an occasional contraction and some spotting. I was getting very excited. About an hour after we got home, the contractions stopped. Stopped.

STOPPED!

I cried.

Then, the doctor's office called. I had run out of the office so fast that they weren't able to get that blood draw that they needed, so would I please come back in, like, right now?

 

"No, I will come in after the school day," I replied. I had to get at least one thing going and under my belt.

 

At 3:30, I packed all the kids back up and met Matt in the parking lot again. It was still raining. The children were being so, so brave. I told him to just swap cars with me, take the kids home and start making pancakes for dinner. I ran in, they drew my blood and I left. Just like that. I got home about 10 minutes after Matt. I texted our friend Sheryl in Cicero to let her know that it would be another baby-less night and not to worry about being on call. No contractions. No signs of labor. I was just miserable. I texted a couple other people to let them know that the doctor changed my due date to January of 2045.

 

 

My brother Matt sent this conversation to me after Charlie was born, to remind me how he knew I was getting close and that Charles got the message.

 

I stood at the counter watching Matt flip pancakes on the griddle. Gosh, I hated EVERYTHING. WHY WAS EVERYONE SO RIDICULOUS? WHY WAS THE WORLD SO UNFAIR?!

And then, a contraction. 

"WHATEVER!" I yelled inside my head at my contraction.

Then three minutes, and another one came.

Then five minutes, and another.

Matt asked if I wanted to eat.

I watched him flip one more pancake and I had the worst contraction yet.

My body was done.

 

Soooooo, I did what any sane pregnant woman would do.

I lied.

I told him I had to use the bathroom and I needed some space. "Please, feed the children," I said, "I'll be right down." 

Except, I went upstairs and had another contraction. And then another. So, I texted Matt from upstairs. Just the word "now" every time I contracted...because I didn't want to keep track. 

Screenshot from Matt’s phone, as he kept close record of every time I texted “now”.

After about three more contractions, he texted me back from downstairs to let me know, in no uncertain terms, that this baby was coming and I needed to text Sheryl back and ask her to come NOW.

 

Sheryl got to the house just after 7p. We live out away from the city, so it takes a while to get anywhere. Twenty minutes, minimum, for everything. I took this into account when I was planning getting to the hospital in time.

 

I had a PLAN.

 

I was going to labor at home. Then, Matt would drive me to the hospital. I would sit on a birthing ball, pace the halls, deep breathe, sit in one of those Jacuzzi tubs, etc. Then, after a few hours of very controlled labor, I would push the baby out.

 

Welp, we got to the hospital around 7:30p. I made Matt drop me off at the front door so he could go park the car. The valet parking guy was confused. But, I let him know that I was having a baby and my husband was going to park the car! GOSH! WHY WAS EVERYONE SO IRRITATING? So, the valet guy backed away very, very slowly.

I should've known I was in transition at this point, since everything was making me so batty. But it didn't actually occur to me that I was close to delivery until I saw the Security Counter in the main lobby and completely bypassed it, waving to the guard angrily and yelling "IM HAVING A BABY!"

 

Her jaw hit the floor and she called back, "You want a wheelchair? Floor 5..."

"NO," I snapped, "I DON'T WANT A WHEELCHAIR! I'M HAVING A BABY!"

 

Good grief! Why was everyone being so dense!?

 

There was a tough-looking teenage boy standing next to the elevator as I tried to push the button. I glared at him.

"I'M HAVING A BABY!" I sneered, letting him know that I didn't like that he was staring at me and that I would totally take him down if he, too, offered me a wheelchair.

 

I had a contraction on my way up to the 5th floor and I remember thinking that I probably shouldn't have told Matt to go park the car because he was going to miss the delivery now.

I felt bad for approximately the length of the contraction. And then I got good and cross again.

 

I stepped off the elevator and the triage nurse met me in the hallway. She told me that they had received BOTH of my phone calls but the on-call doctor couldn't call me back because she was in surgery.

Fine, I thought. But I wasn't waiting for her to call me back.

 

"I'M HAVING A BABY!" I said.

 

She told me they needed to check me to make sure I was in real labor and this wasn't just Braxton-Hicks. She said to me that occasionally they have to send women home when they are in false labor.

 

"I'M HAVING A BABY!" I said.

 

Regardless, she sent me into triage and asked me to give them a urine sample.

I waddled into the bathroom, every single muscle aching, and wondered if I should tell someone that this was my seventh delivery. I tried to get the urine sample, but each time I attempted, I had a contraction that I had to breathe through and grab onto something. Three contractions (also, three minutes) later, I had the sample AND felt something verrrrrrrrrrry familiar: pressure. Insane pressure. And then my body did something that it was created to do.

 

It pushed. In the bathroom. Of triage. With no one around. And I hadn't even been admitted or had my IV placed for antibiotics or even put a gown on yet or or or or

OR

 

OH BOY!

I "ran" out to the stretcher that they had temporarily labeled as my bed, behind a curtain that no one ever closed. I didn't care. I stripped down and threw on a gown and told the nurse that my body was pushing.

I was entering a phase now that was incredibly new. Panic. They weren't ready for me.

Matt ran in, breathless. He had to go through security, unfortunately. (hehehe)

I told him I had forgotten how to breathe through contractions and my body was pushing. They hadn't even checked my dilation yet!

The nurse called for backup and they simultaneously checked that I was 8cm ONLY and tried getting an IV in. They poked me four times before they gained access.

As I was laying on the stretcher, I remember hearing Matt, but I couldn't see him. My eyes were shut tight. I thought I could squint and tighten all the muscles of my body to keep this baby in.

I was wrong.

With the very next contraction, I yelled out: "I'm pushing! I can't stop! I forgot how to breathe! I forgot how to breathe! I forgot how to breathe!"

And the flurry that followed was actually quite comical (well, it is NOW).

They unlocked the stretcher, ran and pushed me down the hallway, laying in the bed calling out "I FORGOT HOW TO BREATHE! I FORGOT HOW TO BREATHE!" And the nurses were yelling back, "DON'T PUSH! DON'T PUSH!"

They wheeled me into a room that wasn't ready. The doctor, fresh out of surgery, came into apologize for not returning my calls. I told her I didn't care and that I was going to push. She checked and said I was still 8cm, to which I responded:

 

"I'M PUSHING!"

And I did.

Once.

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

The nurse looked at me with a crooked smile and said, "Glad you came in when you did. Dad would've been delivering baby boy in the car."

 

Charles Francis Pernot

born at 8:12pm

7lbs 6oz

20in

 

Christmas Is Coming...Mommy's getting fat!

We had a killer stomach bug this month. Brutal. And about the third day in, my dryer BROKE.
Of course.
And I was hanging up three loads of laundry a day, in front of the wood burning stove. Sheets and pillowcases and blankets and pajamas...plus the normal loads. It was sad. Then kind of enjoyable. And, eventually, I felt industrious and maybe even a smidge proud.
Grandma, ALL those years you hung laundry in the winter, inside the house? I appreciate them.

We had two children with fevers and my bursitis was acting up, but we knew if we didn't go to pick out a tree this day, it just wasn't going to happen. We planned on getting something very, very, very small.
This is about par for all our plans.
 

It started snowing while we were waiting for Matt to shove the gigundo tree INSIDE our van.
It was a moment to document because I think we usually let this times pass us by without appreciating the simple wonders of God. It felt magical and peaceful, even with Danny and Essie's sickies. (Esther not pictured because...well, she's Esther...and she didn't want to take a picture in front of a car.)



Inside the garden store, after cookies and spiced cider.
Happy babies.

Daniel, "helping" Matt put the crib together for the new baby.

Bag packed. Crib Assembled. Grandma's blanket waiting.

One of the funniest gifts we have received so far.

The kids thought THIS ONE was the funniest.

Esther found my phone. I have thirty-four of these.

Our church adopted us this Christmas and supplied us with enough food for Christmas.
Christmas 2016...
Christmas 2017...
Christmas 2018...

We are so grateful.

These two.
Matt and I wake up early, usually around 4a-5a.
We do this in the hopes of having just a couple quiet moments together.
But every single morning, this happens.
They come down. They eat. They talk. They fight.
LOUD.
EVERYTHING IS SO LOUD.
We keep saying we should wake up earlier to avoid this, but I am certain they have radar and know when our feet hit the floor.

But then we have moments like this and I remember that someday we WILL be alone.
And it will be quiet.
And I will MISS THIS.
So, I am appreciating and soaking in and trying to love every single loud and teary morning.

Brave Baby Tom. This recent virus kicked him pretty hard. He fought it for about 9 days. He's definitely on the other side of it now, and I feel nothing but gratitude.

Syracuse, You are CRAZY SNOWY.

Lando loves the kids. I don't know why. If I were a cat, I'd be terrified of them. Unpredictable, Loud, and Tactile humans running after me 12 hours a day? No, thank you.
But, he loves loves loves loves them.
Also, they feed him about 4998734987 times a day.
Soooooo.

Grateful for every moment.

Nathan was not happy because all the haircut lollipops were the same color.
It was Christmas season, so I handed out candy canes instead.
Still not thrilled. 

Isn't Thomas an amazing artist? At just seven years old, he actually teaches my art class for me to the rest of the kids.
He tells me it's ok that I can't draw well.
"I think you are good at lots of other things, Mom."

Sick sick sick sick.
This was between 3-4a.
Watching train documentaries on the couch with popsicles.
It was exhausting, but excellent, time.

Christmas photos. Always a hoot.

Me: Esther, could you just be good for ONE picture?
Esther: Sure, Mom. I'll be the holiest.
Me:...

Got It.

Preparation

We are expecting number 7 to arrive within the next month.

 

When we first found out we were pregnant with this baby, I had it set in my mind that I would stay busy with everything in my day to day so the pregnancy would pass by quickly. I wouldn't think much about it. I would get projects done, pay attention to the six babes outside my uterus, and before I knew it, I would be at the very end of my third trimester.

Then...

I had 23 weeks straight of morning sickness. Somewhere in there, I damaged my knee and developed bursitis, limiting my physical movement to practically nothing. My blood pressure shot through the roof. I began having shortness of breath and chest pains, earning myself an emergency appointment with a cardiologist. I had an EKG, echocardiogram and 48 hour Holter monitor done. We discovered I was having episodes of ventricular tachycardia and supraventricular tachycardia. The cardiologist wasn't sure if my symptoms were brought on by pregnancy or if this was an underlying condition that was being exacerbated by pregnancy. Regardless, he told me, it would take an act of congress for him to start me on medication because I was already 34 weeks pregnant. Any medication he would start to help with my heart rate and blood pressure would have to be discontinued about a month before delivery. We were too close. It would affect the baby's growth now.

 

I sat in his office, completely confused. 

 

34 weeks? Wait. What?! When did that happen?

 

"Lay low and try to stay peaceful," the doctor says, "We will figure your heart issues out after delivery."

 

ok.

ok.

ok.

Deep Breath.

 

I went home and continued laying low.

Then, just three days ago, Matt asked me when we were going to take the tour of the hospital for delivery. "We are delivering at a new hospital this time and have no idea how to get there or where to park," says Matt.

And I think I said something intelligent back to him. Something like, "We have plenty of time." 

Then I checked the hospital website and discovered that we were supposed to have two tours before delivery, the first at 28 weeks...and the second at 34 weeks.

Whoops.

 

At the OBGYN's office, they had a magazine that read on the cover page

"150 MUST-HAVES FOR YOUR NEWBORN!"

150? I could only think of, like, 7.

And then, I promptly realized I had NONE of the seven things to get ready.

Whoops.

 

So, here I am, 36 weeks along, and in full-blown panic mode.

I am not ready!
What have I done?

The baby clothes are scattered throughout the house, on random baby dolls, stored in bags in closets, in dress-up bins. We have a crib somewhere, in a box, in pieces. But! I remembered! We have the bassinet pack n' play! I'll get that out!

 

 

ummmmmm.

Missing the bassinet attachments.

Whoops.

 

Ok.

ok.

ok.

Another deep breath.

 

And I walk into the kitchen. And I remember that really all the new baby needs is 1 thing.

His Family.

Ok, maybe 2 things.

He needs his great-grandmother's handmade blanket.

 

 

He needs family and his blanket.

 

 

 

When Advent Feels Like Lent

Advent 2016

Danny is showing me how strong he is. Tommy is showing Danny how much MORE stronger he is.
Daniel was the one who put his muscles to work on my poor, mangled Advent wreath.
He was so angry because I wouldn't light the candles so he could blow them out while I sang "Happy Birthday to Danny!"
I believe my exact words *before* he turned the candles into nun chucks were "It is most certainly NOT your birthday. Please help your friends set the table for dinner."
 

 THE VERY NEXT DAY...

Daniel woke up at 3am, just wanting to hold my hand. And his demands continued ALL DAY LONG.
This particular tantrum took place at 7:30am, because Thomas wouldn't read to him or play with him...he had schoolwork to do.
Life is so hard when you are two.

Twenty Minutes Later...

Esther came to me crying. Missing HALF OF HER HAIR.
"I don't know where it went! Everyone is laughing at me!"
 

Found it. She tried to hide it in the garbage can in her bedroom. She had found Sarah's sewing scissors and went to work on her beautiful golden-white locks.

The hairdresser we took her to is a miracle worker.

.We've had a stomach bug since before Thanksgiving. It has worked it's way, sloooooowly, through the entire family.
I absolutely MUST document how Nathan is my most favorite sick child. He smiles and smiles and smiles. Even with a fever. This picture was taken 5 minutes after he threw up. I mean, as a mother, I have to be grateful.



An Open Letter to My Hero

 

 

 

Dear Grandma,

Ninety years ago, your mother said "yes" to the gift of life and you were born...I guess I would even venture to say that "Schwalm Spirit" was born at this time as well. I've only known you for 32 of these years, but those who know you best and longest have shared stories, and I feel I've known you for much, much longer.

My earliest memories of you were of simple and happy things. Family get-togethers. Donuts on Sunday mornings. Birthday parties. Personalized teddy bear sweatshirts. Bulk bags of blow-pops in the dining room buffet table drawer. Afghans draped over our couches, a constant reminder of you.

As I got older, I remember actually realizing the first day when you became one of my dearest friends. We bonded over silly things like the color purple, CHOCOLATE and cross stitch. We Instant messaged each other on AOL. One Christmas season, you even agreed to let me tag along on a shopping trip with you and aunt Deb. (I totally underestimated the two of you. I practically chased you through a crowded mall as you navigated stores like professional marksmen. I never told you, but my teenage body was sore that night and my respect for you rose 10 times that day.)

You always supported my education. You cared, genuinely. You were thrilled for me when I was accepted to nursing school and you laughed at my tales of naked men running down the hospital hallways. You cheered me on in my triumphs at clinical and listened intently while I grieved over terrible teachers. You shared stories of your own experiences and helped me grow in ways I can never express.

We did fun things together. We played cards at the cottage, took walks, and went bowling. You accepted  my husband Matt into your heart and life like he was one of your own. We went car shopping with you and out to pizza. We laughed. A lot. I love your laugh.

But I can truthfully say that I never ever fully appreciated your friendship until I became a mother. When Sarah was born, I remember you holding her for the first time. I still cry when I think about it. "My grandmother is holding my daughter," I remember thinking. You've held each of my six babies. And each time it affects me more deeply than the one before. The love, care, compassion and strength you have passed down through the generations is overwhelming. Your knowledge and sense of humor about raising a family have gotten me through some of the most difficult times in my parenthood. I can think of more than a half dozen times I spoke with you about the terrible, awful, no good, very bad time I was having with such and such child...and you just laughed. Heartfelt chuckling. I never got upset when you'd laugh. It made me realize the simplicity and temporary nature of these issues of mine. And it made me grateful that I knew someone who'd weathered the battlefield of motherhood before me. You had some scars to show for it, but were nevertheless a whole and completely loving person.

When you made the time and took the energy to come to my home this past November for Thanksgiving, you gave me the greatest gift. You walked through our house, sat on our couch and took time to talk to me. I was so excited to show you that I have reminders of you everywhere. From the blankets you've made for all our children to your framed needlepoint hanging on our walls and your handwritten notes taped inside my cupboards. You are a huge part of our home, our family and who I am.

So even though we are separated by 90 miles, I've realized that distance doesn't matter. You are a part of my every day life. And I thank God for each and every one of those 90 years that have made you who you are.

Thank you for everything you do and everything you are. You mean the world to me. I love you.

Xoxoxo-
Anne

Alleluia!!!

Well, We Did It!

Easter is here!

Lent seemed as though it would never end, but here we are on the other side of the tomb.

 

 

The children gave up video games and chips for Lent.

This is Easter Morning...

If you look carefully, you can see a tear in Joseph's eye.

Happy Easter!