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S–Sweetie, I have a migraine
A–All right I’ll take the girls with me to (town 1 hour away) to get parts
T–That would be wonderful! You are the best.
U–Undergo a great time! Enjoy your time alone.
R–Really, it’s hard to enjoy myself when I’m in pain
D–Didn’t you just get adjusted?
A–Adjusted? Yes, I guess he needed to adjust me from the other side.
Y–Yes. I hate to see you feeling so poorly.

We’ve found that just once in awhile, if they adjust my cervicals from the side I’m subluxated on, it can actually trigger the migraine that was underlying.

So now I get a whole morning to myself and I can’t even enjoy it.
At least I’m alone!

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why I love my chiropractor

Chiropractic care basically allows the power that made the body to heal the body. I love the essence of its care–to put your body back in perfect alignment so it can be functioning at it best. It’s the same philosophy to me as good nutrition.

I’ve been getting adjusted for 8 years more or less. Originally, it was because I was dating chiropractic student, and then it was because I saw such amazing relief with chronic, debilitating migraines. I’ve been getting the girls adjusted since they were newborns. They’ve never been to the doctor for sick visits, except for Aviana’s Appendix Adventure.

My own chiropractor is a teacher as well as a man of superb intelligence and panache. He’s short, bald and speaks with an Arkansas accent. He’s prone to a flamboyant flair, choosing flashy colors like coral and Kelly green, but he carries it off surprisingly well. He’s father to twin boys and husband to a most understanding wife. He’s fantastic with my girls both personality wise and care wise. He specialized at one time in maternity and post-partum care.

I have been having pelvic pain, much like I did with Brielle, that got so bad with her I could hardly walk. I didn’t realize at the time that I should have mentioned it to my chiro. Because he adjusted me today, I am feeling fine now!

It is just amazing what having your body be “right” can do for a girl.

I didn’t even realize that chiropractic care is kind of an “alternative”. Or that people can have really strong negative opinions about it.

I was having a conversation a while back with a friend who was going off about another friend of ours who takes her kids to the chiro for ear infections. She couldn’t believe someone would actually get their child adjusted, or wouldn’t just go get a prescription right away. She told me chiropractors are quacks and aren’t real doctors. She obviously didn’t know what a proponent of chiropractic care I am.

But the conversation really opened my eyes to how much people don’t understand about how the body works.

***edited to add***Ironically, I wrote and posted this and promptly got a migraine. After being awake with it several times in the night, and resting and medicating almost all day Saturday, Kevin called Dr. Chiro and asked him what we should do. His response?

“I’ll be right out!” He arrived tout de suite and adjusted me on my couch. We paid him with 2 dozen eggs.

I was really hoping for an immediate transformation, but the headache hung around for the night. Around 2 a.m. I woke up with it still drilling me, and prayed to God, If you want me to teach Sunday pre-school tomorrow, you’d better get rid of this migraine!”

Sunday all was good!

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Birthin’ My Baby; Birth Story Child 2

It’s been a good while since I wrote about the time I had a baby. I thought now would be a perfectly good random time to follow-up with the time I had another baby. This post is really for me, so don’t feel bad if you skim.

It was a hot August back in aught 6, and I was more than ready to have our second baby. I was somewhere between huge and humongous. I had been having prodromal or latent labor for a couple weeks, waking up every night, writing down how often contractions were occurring. After several hours of semi-regularity, they would subside, and I could finally sleep. The baby had also dropped and engaged really early, and it was painful to move much those last few weeks.

The afternoon of August 10, Kevin and I went in for my 40 week check-up, the due date of Baby B (who never let us see the gender at the ultrasound) being August 12. Kim, one of my midwives, asked me if I wanted her to strip my membranes–which means she separated the bag of waters from the cervix to try and jump start labor. I agreed because I was so tired and tired of being in pain. Well. Let me just tell you. I didn’t know what pain was. The process of stripping my membranes about made me crawl off the table! I was dilated to 3 1/2 (centimeters; 10 being ‘complete’ and hopefully ready to push the baby out.)

She also prescribed some sleeping pills because she was concerned about my going into labor so energy depleted, since I had been up most of every night for 10+ days.

We were at Target getting our prescription for the Ambien filled when labor really did start! I started getting contractions that scared the other customers. I had to stop and hold onto the cart and concentrate on breathing low to get through them. They were still about 10 minutes apart, and we had read to just go about your business in early labor, so we finished our little jaunt, and called my mom, Cindy our labor assistant ( a Bradley instructor), and picked up Aviana from Kevin’s mom’s. We made sure the bag was packed and all preparations were in place in case this was finally and really it.

My mom arrived at our house, and made us dinner. I tried to eat, but was contracting so much I had to get on all fours (at which point Aviana thought playing Horsie would be a swell idea). After they got her to bed, my contractions were closer and still lasting 90 seconds or longer, which is longer than average (30-60 seconds in early and active labor) and were quite, shall we say, intense… (referencing the above link: I never got to eat a single Oreo or watch the movie…I made them stop watching too, because that just wasn’t fair.)

Around midnight, the contractions were three to four minutes apart. Since we live a half hour from the hospital, and I thought I must be close to delivery, we decided to head in. Every time I had a contraction in the car Kevin had to pull over and let me out. It took forever to get there.

When we got there I had to go to the ER, because Admissions were closed. Even though we had pre-registered, I had to wait in the ER with strangers staring at me, and weird smells and noises and people, for close to an hour. When we finally were allowed to go up to the Labor and Delivery floor, some idiot stranger was trying to make small talk with me in the over heated too bright elevator.

We met Cindy in the parking garage, and Beth, the midwife on-call (who was my least favorite of the three midwives in the practice), met us at the floor. Then I had to go to Triage, where I had to listen to a nurse with a voice like Marge Simpson’s sisters, and worse breath than that, who demanded I do this or that, including climb up on a narrow bed that was nearly at boob level all while I’m hugely pregnant and contracting to boot! Smokey ‘checked’ me, which huuuuuurt! I was at a 4 1/2. Not even halfway there. We had to wait in Triage for almost an hour, because all the L & D rooms were full.

We finally get admitted to a room, I have to get hooked up to more machinery (Seriously? I had no idea those monitors were so tight. The belts actually hurt. And it was aggravated every time I had a contraction. Which were still long, frequent and INTENSE despite all the hospital interference. And every time I tried to loosen them, I’d get in trouble with the nurses.) Plus I had to get an IV port put in, just in case, because I was a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). Plus they had to draw blood. Plus I still had to sign more papers! Abso-freaking ridiculous.

I’m trying to get a baby out here people!! (Can you sense a tad bit of animosity?)

I labored all night. Fortunately, we were “allowed” to try different positions with a portable monitor and fortunately Smokey wasn’t my nurse. I labored all over that room. I threw up so many times. I threw up so hard it broke my water. The night is all a blur. I remember Kevin reading to me from the verses on strength and courage I had written out. I remember having to go pee for the umpteenth time, and they told me to just go where I was. I couldn’t.

By daybreak, I was not handling things well at all. I asked for an epidural, which I was totally against. Cindy thought I was in transition, and would soon be done, so I got ‘checked’ again, and I was at a 6. A six. The entire night and I had ‘progressed’ 1 1/2 centimeters. Then in my head, I really started freaking out that I would end up with another Cesarean, for failure to progress.

On one level, I knew I was doing the hard work of getting the baby to where it needed to be, and was progressing, but on the other hand, I also knew the hospital protocol would kick in eventually, if I didn’t meet their standard of progress.

Kevin, Beth, and Cindy tried to talk me out of the epidural, knowing how I felt about it. Beth suggested I tried Nubane, but having had that before, I knew it just made me feel drunk. So the anesthesiologist, who was supposed to be in the hospital because I was VBAC made his surly appearance 45 minutes later.

Try holding still with not much covering you, cold stuff on your back, rubber bands around your middle feeling as if they are cutting off your air supply, and a baby who is trying to drill its way out your midsection with a hayfork.

Finally, though I could rest. I think I even dozed off a little. He gave me what is called a walking epidural, so I was supposed to be able to feel the contractions a little. I could tell when I had one, but that was about it. My care givers wanted me to try and labor down, which means allow the baby to work its way out on its own, without pushing. Beth said I would know when it was low enough, because I would feel a lot of pressure, then we could start pushing.

After an hour or so, I thought I was ready, and sure enough, the magic “10”. They told me to go ahead and push whenever I got a contraction. This time seemed to fly by because I was working so hard, but it turns out I pushed for two hours.

We think that Brielle was face-up, and that is why labor was SO intense, and I never really got a break from the contraction, the pain never went away, just varied in intensity. We think that the epidural allowed my body to relax enough for her to turn over while she was in the birth canal, which is probably what caused such major tearing.

Brielle finally was born at 9:07 in the morning. It was precious to meet her, and I was enthralled with her.

And it was a good thing I had her to occupy my time, because I got stitches upon stitches. Nearly 1 1/2 hour’s worth of stitches. In addition to the internal tearing, I tore outside and had been given an episiotomy (which I didn’t even know until I started asking questions during pre-natal visits this pregnancy).

Recovery from her delivery was a lot harder for me and took a lot longer than my recovery from the Cesarean.

But she is well worth it! I am so glad I got to have a VBAC. I’m so glad she was born perfect and healthy. I’m so glad to know my sweet Baby B .
And I’m so glad I get to have a home birth this time!

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Sassy Spray

It’s so crazy how the littlest things can just add up. Brielle had stuck some stickers to the table when we were doing a project, and I was frustrated with that, and of course Aviana is trying to assert her will all day long, and I was frustrated with that.

I asked her, to keep her from pestering me while I was trying to rescue my table, “Why don’t you take some of the stickers off this paper and decorate this envelope?” And she said “But, MAAAA-MA…” It was then I started yelling. Then I realized what I was doing and calmed down.

I told Aviana I was going to make Sassy Spray and starting tomorrow if she mouthed off, or started one single sentence with “But…” she was getting Sassy Spray. She doesn’t even know what it is, but since I read about it the other day we’ve talked about it, and does not like the idea one tiny bit! She cried and cried. She kept telling me she didn’t want the Sassy Spray. I told her it’s her choice because she doesn’t have to be so argumentative and doesn’t have to start a sentence with “But…”

And she said, all teary and pathetic, “I just want you to use your good voice, not your evil voice!”

I guess Mama could use some Sassy Spray too!

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Make Me Laugh Monday

I think my kiddlets are so adorable, I couldn’t pick just one. I’m sure you’ll agree. To wit.

The one where Brielle smells flowers (only she’s exhaling)

And the one where Aviana dances and “gets her wiggles out”

The one where Brielle follows directions,

And finally, the one where Dada teases the baby

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Made me cry

Not that I really need much prompting these days, but over at My Writing Mentor, one of my favorite-ist authors mentions li’l ol’ me!

Also made me well up today: Trust and Obedience at Testosterhome.

And McMommy’s post about her little baby (who’s about Brielle’s age) growing up…

Over at Life in a Shoe, Kim posted about why she births at home.

Megan also made me well up in the tribute she wrote to her sweet now five year old.

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Aviana, looking out the window: Mama, the van wooks diff-er-ent.
Me: I washed it.
I am disciplining Brielle in the bathroom while Aviana is around the corner in the kitchen. She hears me begin the process, which is to address the specific incident of disobedience and to make sure the child understands what she is being disciplined for. I usually hold them close to me on my lap and say something like, “Mama loves you too much to let you be disobedient. God put me in authority over you and it’s my job to teach you to obey me, so you can obey Him.”

It was about this point that Aviana hollers into the bathroom, “NO DISCIPWIN IS PWEASANT AT THE TIME BWEE-ELLE! NO DISCIPWIN IS PWEASANT AT THE TIME!”

Sage advice from one discipline-ee to another.

The verse in its entirety is No discipline is pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Hebrews 12:11 I paraphrase.
Mama, I’m doe-ing to weed dis storwee to my husband. My husband is sitting right dere. Den he’s doe-ing to weed me a storwee. I wuv my husband. We weed to each udder.
Kevin’s straight laced, somewhat snobby, childless cousin: What are you going to do this summer?
Aviana: After my birfday, and after the new baby comes, we tan doe outside and take off all our tlothes, and pway!
I’m doe-ing to put on my bwacelet, so dat ever-wee one at Fawrm and Fweet will fink I am a PWINCESS!

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