Noah at 2

I look back on my pregnancy with Noah and wish I would have known then what I know now. That a baby, regardless of the gender, becomes a part of your being and takes a permanent place in your heart the instant they are born.



My love for Noah is one that completely blindsided me. I thought my love for a boy would be different, less even. But it isn't. It is true and beautiful and just as strong as my love for his sister(s). I think all mothers wonder how their love can possibly divide and make room for a second baby but, as soon as that second baby is born, we understand that love grows instead of dividing. That love makes room no matter what. That love, so intangible and sneaky, makes its own way and that there is little we can do about it. My love hasn't divided- it has exploded- and I couldn't be luckier.

I always joke that Noah is such a mama's boy because he had to prove to me just how wonderful little boys are. And he has. He has the most beautiful little spirit and is the sweetest boy. It doesn't hurt that he is completely gorgeous, to boot.



At two, Noah is a ball of energy. He is cheeky and spirited and doesn't like the word no. I have never known a child to look so defeated and wounded by one two letter word. He also likes to have a good tantrum now and again. Still, he is oh so sweet. He loves to give kisses and cuddles.

He know his colors and can count to 10- even a bit higher. He can sing the alphabet and speaks in sentences. He has a pretty great vocabulary and I think he speaks pretty clearly for his age. He has the strongest little accent and I love the way he says Mummy!

Ali, his babysitter, started getting him to go to the toilet on the potty once a day back in October/November. I think watching his big sister has made him keen to try to do it himself. I held off a bit because I knew the baby was coming and didn't want him to regress as a result. When we are at home he often has his nappy off and almost always makes it to the potty. He has had a few accidents but this is usually when he has trousers on without a nappy. We need to have a solid two days at home, as we did with Esme, so his confidence grows. I know he has great bladder control because he can go a little on demand and, would sit on his potty and go once a minute when it was a new novelty.

Today he did his first poo on his potty...and without any coaxing! I am confident that devoting two full days to training will result in a nappy free boy!



Noah loves:

Cornflakes
Toy Cars
His blanket.
Yo Gabba Gabba
Rio
The Gruffalo
Jumping
Running
Shoes
Tortilla Chips
Cars (Lightning McQueen)
His sisters
Apples, Grapes, Bananas and Oranges


Dislikes:

Water poured on his head
The word no
Sharing his cars
Being strapped in the buggy
Sitting still
Sitting in a high chair
Most meats


When the baby cries he shouts "OH NO! OH NO!" and runs over to help her. "Mummy baby crying OH NO!" It is sweet to see the love and concern he has for his baby sister. He is a natural big brother.

A Few of my Favorite Things

Newborns have the most wonderful breathing patterns. The little noises she makes melt my heart. They are so sweet.

When she was born, she had the softest little head. It is still soft but, for the first few weeks, there was a time when I couldn't keep my hands off of it! I am surprised she hasn't been rubbed completely bald as a result. Speaking of bald- lets look at a little comparison.



People keep insisting that she isn't bald....but look what I have to compare it to! I knew she had less hair than her sibs but it took looking at this picture to get the full picture. She has lovely reddish hair (a hand me down from her maternal grandfather and her daddy). Esme and Noah are so similar and I just assumed she would be the same. The funny thing is that I spent my first two pregnancies worried I would have a red haired baby, mostly because red heads are picked on in the UK. This time it didn't even cross my mind- probably because I was preoccupied wondering if baby was a he or a she that I forgot to consider the finer details. This picture shows how different her hair is but it also highlights how facially similar they all are. They all have identical noses. Noah (bottom left) looks a more like me and the two girls are spitting images of their daddy!

Wren's wrinkly little forehead is my favorite thing about her. It gets wrinkly when she is looking around at things and I can't help but kiss it constantly. She made some of the grumpiest faces in her first few weeks. I think she gets it from her daddy :)

She is such an amazing baby. She only wakes once a night (usually around 4 in the morning) for a feed and doesn't cry very often. She lets out one little WAH when she wants something and waits a few seconds to see if someone is going to respond before making any more of a fuss. Her sibs love her to death- a love that is directly responsible for the fact that she has had two colds in her short life. I try to keep them from breathing on her but how can I deny them a little cuddle here and there? They have been so amazing during this process and I want them to remain positive about her presence.

She nurses like a champ. She makes the saddest, sweetest little noises when I switch sides in the middle of nursing or when she loses her latch- little whimpers of desperation that completely melt my heart. I love nursing and it makes me happy knowing I am doing the best thing for my baby. I wish everyone were as lucky as I am.



Her first smiles were on April 3rd.

The Great Divide

My internet decided to pack up and delete this entire blog, which I just spent an hour writing. An hour I don't get very often. This is the truncated version.

Though we didn't know the gender of the baby until birth, Stephen and I had selected first names for both gender previous to the birth. The irony in this story is that choosing feminine names that we both like and agree on has never been an issue.

I discovered the name Esme long before I ever entertained the idea of becoming pregnant. I found the name in the death records at East London Cemetery, where I worked. I had seen it in Twilight but I didn't like it and, if I am honest, wasn't even sure how to pronounce it. It wasn't until I found it in the death records (how very funerial of me, I know!) that it started popping up everywhere and nudged its way into my heart. Stephen wasn't at all convinced. I would even say he was opposed. For nine months I referred to my "baby lump" as Esme and he eventually fell in love with it and agreed that it was her name.

Boy names are a nightmare for us. Noah was going to be Vaughan but I kept changing my mind because it didn't feel right. The fact that I was less than enthusiastic about having a boy probably didn't help the situation. We both liked the name Noah (despite its popularity and the fact that my mom has a cat with the same name), he was born and it seemed to fit him...end of story. He was our little Noah John.

Without knowing the gender of the baby, we managed to find name of each gender that we liked. A feat in itself.

Sloane (middle name TBD)

&

Everett James (or Everett Vaughan)

I was obsessed with the name Sloane. Everett took a while to come 'round to (thanks to the lovely city in which I was born) but I grew to love it and was content. I thought her name was a slam dunk. I had no idea there was a storm brewing that planned on trying to sink our ship.

A week before the baby was born, Stephen started expressing doubt about the name we had selected. He had received less than rave reviews and wanted to consider alternatives. I was heart broken. I adored the name Sloane and, more to the point, it had become her name (should she be a girl) throughout the course of the pregnancy. Esme called her Sloane and wouldn't even entertain the possibility that there was a brother in my tummy. The question "Esme, what if it is a brother?" was met with a resolute "What if it is a sister?!" To say this change of heart knocked me through a loop would be an understatement.

I understand that both of our opinions and feelings need to be considered when naming our child. I think the think that bothers me the most is the fact that I don't think the opinion was all his. While I agree that people liking the name you have chosen is nice, I don't place that much value in it. I think the most important thing is that the parents of the child in question agree on it. And we did agree on it and that agreement, for whatever reason, was snatched from me.

Stephen suggested the name Isla, a name we had discovered in the days before children whilst visiting the Isle of Arran in Scotland. It is a beautiful name. It also happens to be number 11 in the UK baby name charts and climbing. A quality that I find most irritating. Stephen has no issue whatsoever with the popularity of a name but I have always been bothered by it. Esme, a name that barely breaks the top 1000 in the USA, is top 100 in the UK. It drives me crazy. Noah is even more popular. I digress.

I agreed to consider Isla. It is a beautiful name and one that I once felt strongly about. In all honesty, I figured the sting of negative reaction would blow over and that Stephen would come back around to Sloane. I wasn't stressing. I toyed with other names that were on our middle name list (Hermione, Clementine, Henrietta) but never put much weight into the consideration. I was sure she would be Sloane.

On March 4th our beautiful little girl was born. Our little beauty with her reddish hair and her familiar little face. Everyone said I would know her name when she was born. And I did. Her name was Sloane and she was perfect. Just perfect.

But what do you do when the name you are so in love with is no longer a name you can consider? You try to compromise. And try I did. The night before she was a week old we decided to call her Isla. Everyone kept asking me what her name was and I felt guilty. Who has a one week old baby without a name? I agreed under duress. And I tried. I called her Isla for a week but slowly started avoiding her name and crying to myself as I fell asleep. Isla wasn't her name. We agreed to start from scratch but soon realized we were going to have a harder time than we ever imagined.

I fully admit that the reason I had a hard time, at first, is because I couldn't bear to give up on Sloane. How can you give up on something you are so passionate about? I knew her middle name would be Sloane if it couldn't be her first name. I am a stubborn broad and I have strong opinions. Unfortunately I married one of my own kind. Our talks slowly escalated into arguments and we went long stretches of time without discussing names at all. The interesting part is that there are a lot of names that we both like- it is just that I am not happy to give my baby my 48th choice. Names are important to me and worth fighting for. I was going to find a name that we both loved come hell or high water.

I spent hours begrudgingly scouring name websites, on the quest for an acceptable second choice name. And then I found one. It wasn't a name we had ever discussed before. It wasn't my favorite name, but it was cute enough and even had the name "Isla" in it. It seemed perfect. Delilah seemed like it might be the answer.

Now, in the name of full disclosure, I am not sure that Delilah would have been her name, no matter public opinion. I know now that she isn't a Delilah. The problem is that, once again, for reason of opinions not his own, Delilah was pushed aside. I like to think that I call a spade a spade - don't mince my words- whatever you want to call it. And I call it unfair. I think it is unfair to make a difficult decision any more difficult than it already is. I would never dream of telling someone not to name someone something (unless it was Brock Lee or something ;). I would give my opinion honestly but make it clear that the couple should name their child the name they think is best. Names are very personal and that is why they are so diverse. I may not like the names my friends and family have chosen..but they aren't my kids. A world full of Tom's could be very confusing. Come to think of it, I have three Uncle Toms. Yes, three. A little diversity wouldn't go amiss from time to time.

So we were back to square one. We stopped talking about names. I kept crying. I kept dreading the next time someone would ask me what her name was. When we did talk, it escalated into an argument.

And then it happened. I found a name that I loved as much, if not more, than Sloane. Sloane was a name I liked that became her name. This name jumped off the page and claimed her. It was perfect...what could go wrong?

I think you're starting to see a pattern here.

The name is Wren.

When I told Stephen the name, he was curious and cautiously optimistic. To him, it was a surname- a la Sir Christopher- and a bit obscure. To me, it was the perfect compromise. Off the radar yet very similar to Erin, a name that Stephen had expressed interest in. Erin is lovely but a bit too popular for my tastes and also the name of one of my cousins. Wren sounds familiar- it is the root of names like Renne and Renata- but has more character. It is unique without being weird and it sounds traditional even if it isn't. He wasn't sure.

I got to the point where I told stephen to name her whatever he wanted. And I meant it. I was mentally exhausted and couldn't take one more debate. He didn't want to make that decision alone, just as I wouldn't. He decided to take his time with Wren, deciding if he could live with it. He has been met with less than positive opinion, yet again, but it has grown on him. And I think it will continue to do so. I have had very positive reaction to the name. And while I have no question in my mind that it is her name, I know that Stephen does, if only because certain opinions sway him.

But here's the thing. My husband and I are solid. We are here for the long run. Hell, as much as I hate to say it, we are the friggin' Yankees. We are in it to win it. My husband loves me as much for my conviction as he does for my heart, as I do him. He sees me believe in something and he wants to believe it, too. We are a team and, if I had to choose any page on which to differ, I would choose the name page. Why? Because we are on the same page in almost every aspect of our lives. We are on the same page when it comes to the importance of our marriage. We are on the same page when it comes to how we want to raise or children. We are on the same page when it comes to our morals, our dreams, our goals. What's a little name when you're lucky enough to have all of that?

So, folks, here it is:

Wren Isla Juliet Bailey.

For today, anyway.


My little songbird. The fourth piece of my heart.

Homecoming

Perhaps the greatest beauty of natural child birth is that I was unable to dwell on things like I normally do. I have always had a bit of a wild imagination and the many possible complications with birth and newly born babies didn't exactly put my mind at ease. With the previous two, worries of syndromes, defects, missing limbs, albinism, mental issues plagued my pregnancy and labor. This time, I was so present, so in the zone, that I didn't once worry about the endless possibilities- my mind was focused on delivering my baby- whoever it may be- into this world as best I could. It didn't even cross my mind to check her gender when she was born.

We stayed over night at the birthing center. This isn't common practice for straight forward births over here but they offered and Stephen and I were happy to have a night alone with the baby sans interruptions from her two older siblings. My mom was more than happy to look after Esme and Noah. Stephen's parents, Ali (our "Friday Nanny") and especially my mama were all instrumental in their own ways to a successful birthday. Stephen's parents took care of school pick up and looked after the kids for a few hours so my mom could witness my labor. Ali took a shift of baby sitting so that my mom could stay at the hospital for the birth and a visit and my mom took the night shift so that we could have some alone time with the baby. We were very lucky to have such wonderful support.

Baby's first visitors were Gram and Granddad Bailey and Ali. Eveyone was able to get a quick cuddle in with the most magnificent and cuddly of all creatures- the newborn baby :)



Baby's first night exceeded all expectations. She fell asleep around 1030 and woke only once, around 4 am, for a feeding and a change and then slept until gone 9 am when I woke her up to change her for discharge. Discharge took a lot longer than intended because I noticed all of my paperwork had my first name spelled incorrectly (Brie-Ana instead of Brie-Anna) and I mentioned it in case it caused issue when registering her birth. It is mistake that caused irritation throughout the pregnancy as I had to blood work redone as a result of a missing N. I wasn't going to let this blessed N cause me any more trouble. Unfortunately, pointing out this error delayed our departure by a few hours but I suspect it was a lot less hassle in the long run!

We drove home- a full 4 minutes away (if that!) and were greeted by a lovely sign on the front door. My mom wrote us a welcome and Esme traced it so it was very special to me. My mom showed Esme a picture we posted of the baby as we were leaving the birthing center and asked Esme if she thought the baby was a boy or a girl. Esme, who has been certain that she was having a sister for the duration of the pregnancy, looked at the photo and decided, based on the blanket, that it was a boy. I have to admit the blanket is a bit boyish but I saw it and couldn't resist it when I was pregnant!

When we walked in we were greeted with the most ecstatic face I have ever seen. Big sister was super excited to meet her new little princess and couldn't wait to hold her. Big brother was having a much needed nap and got his cuddle a little later.



I have to admit that I was a little worried about Noah's reaction. He is very clingy and is a huge mama's boy. I wasn't sure how he would react to me being so close to another baby and nursing her, etc. He was, as I say, cautiously optimistic upon first inspection. He was very curious but wasn't as keen to hold her as his sister was (which could be down to age). My favorite story about Noah and the new baby is as follows:

As we all know, newborns sleep 90 percent of the time. Noah got accustomed to seeing her asleep. When he first saw her with her eyes open he proclaimed, with great pride, "BABY GOT EYES!" Noticing when her eyes are open is still his favorite game :)

I have been really impressed with the both of them, Noah in particular. Being a big sister has always come easily to Esme and she was practically a seasoned veteran already, having become a big sister to Noah at the tender age of 14 months! Noah is amazing. He gets a bit excited and boisterous but it is all with good intention. He punctuates his play time by giving her kissed and rubbing her fuzzy little head. He really loves his baby and is the most natural of big brothers!

Here is a picture of Noah and baby the first time he asked to hold her. You can see the pride in his eyes.



The home coming was wonderful and full of cuddles and love- hopefully things stay this way! x

A Baby Story (#3!).

Easter just passed so I figure there is no better time for a little resurrection.

At 5 am on March 4, I woke up for the 100th time that night and went to the bathroom. I waddled back to bed and, within a few seconds, noticed something wasn't quite right...either I was incontinent or my waters were breaking. I was hoping for the latter for the sake of my pride :) Since my waters have never broken on their own before and I have always been dilated to ten, I found it all a little suspicious. I do know, from my many hours of watching shows like A Baby Story, that delivery should happen within 24 hours of waters breaking so I decided to mosey my big self downstairs and call the midwife.

At this point, I wasn't having contractions (530 am) so was advised to come in at 9 am so they could check my waters and monitor baby. Not long after I put the phone down, mild contractions began. They didn't feel good but they were manageable. Stephen and I left the house at around 815. We took Esme to school, informed them that baby was likely on its way and Gram and Granddad would be picking up and hurried off to the birthing centre.

And here begins one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. I had HUGE worries about going from the overly clinical and hospitalized US system (which is all I knew) to the midwife lead system in the UK. My worries were silly and the rest of the blog should spell out why.

I was welcomed with smiles by a midwife named Denise. We were put in our private birthing room (you wouldn't believe the size of this room!) and, after a small wait, I was put on a monitor and brought tea and toast. It was lovely. The monitor slipped and I had to be monitored for a bit longer. I don't know how to explain the mood of the birthing unit but to say that no one was in a hurry. No one was offering me pitocin to speed my labor, no one was urging me to do anything. Everything was completely relaxed. Denise checked the monitoring and said baby was completely happy and healthy. She then did an internal examination and informed me that my waters were still in tact (hello, incontinence!) and that I was approximately 3 cm dilated. YAY...or so I thought. Because this was my third baby, three centimeters didn't mean much and baby was still sitting pretty high. I was offered some pain meds, which I declined, and was told that I could either go home or wait it out. I opted to go home.

I had decided, long before the contractions kicked in, that this would be my first natural and unassisted child birth. I am not going to claim that my first two births were unpleasant but, after reading about natural lifestyles as of late, I was convinced that I wanted a more human experience this time. No needles, no drugs- just me, my body and a giant vat of water to relax in.

By the time we got home it was noon and the contractions were really starting to kick in. I got into my bathtub, hoping to experience the miracle pain relief of hot water only to be sorely disappointed. I am not convinced it helped at all. But I like a nice bath. So I sat there, with my Mama, complaining about the pain and expressing disbelief that humans weren't extinct by now. Surely choosing this pain for the third time qualified me as clinically insane?

At about 2 pm I decided the contractions were close enough (3 mins) and strong enough to justify a return to the birthing center. After all, Noah was born three minutes after I dilated to 10 and my waters broke and I didn't want to be one of those ladies on the news who gives birth in her car on the way to the hospital. Stephen's parents were in the process of picking up car seats and Noah in order to collect Esme from school and as soon as they left my mom, Stephen and I were off to the birthing center.

They were surprised to see me so soon. Without question, we were brought to our birthing suite and offered tea, biscuits (cookies) and toast. By the time they examined me it was 3 pm and I had been having painful contractions for a few hours. I was expecting to be about 7 cm. I was horrified when they told me I was only 4 cm- a one cm improvement from the morning- and my resolve for a natural pregnancy started to waiver. The coming contractions were earth shattering and am a self proclaimed wuss. Somehow I managed to say no to all of the drugs and even the gas and air. Denise told me she wouldn't offer me anything else and I nodded my approval.

Each contraction shook me to my core. I tried to sit on the big bouncy ball but each bounce seemed to encourage another contraction. All I wanted to do was sleep and I made this very clear. Denise told me to walk around and I told her I wanted a nap. I knew each movement I made would trigger another earth moving contraction and I wanted to stay as still as possible. My mom kept reminding me that Denise wanted me to walk around but I kept whining about a nap and the improbability of the perpetuation of the human race.

They had started filling my birthing pool when I came in. Those things are enormous and use more water than any environmentally friendly person should feel comfortable using...but I didn't care. I wanted warm water and I wanted it NOW. Denise was reluctant to get me in because she was afraid it could slow my progress. By this time I told them that I was a failure and that I needed drugs immediately. They ignored me (in a caring, we respect your wish for a natural birth and your angry yells mean nothing kind of way). I was finally allowed into the pool at about 4pm. My waters broke shortly after and the contractions got even more intense. They encouraged me to start pushing when I felt the need. I felt the need but I was petrified. I lived for short time between contractions when nothing hurt- it was nirvana. But each few seconds of nirvana meant the next contraction would hurt worse than the last. I was afraid to push- I was lucid and completely aware of my body- something I had never experienced before and I knew pushing wouldn't be as easy as it had been my previous births. This was going to hurt.

I gave a few half hearted pushes and remember asking if they could see her head. They said not yet and I was disappointed. Surely that couldn't be right? I didn't try very hard the next two contraction. But soon I couldn't fight it anymore. I finally bucked up and pushed the baby out at 4:31. That's right, folks. 4-10 in an hour and a half. Not too shabby for a self confessed pansy.

I pulled that little baby up onto my chest and felt the biggest rush of relief and love. It didn't even occur to me check the gender. It was a baby! It was my little baby! At first glance, the umbilical cord tricked me into thinking it was a boy but, on closer inspection, it was clear that we had a bouncing baby girl. I just sat in the pool, holding my baby and nobody intervened. Nobody swept her away to be bathed or weighed or prodded. The midwives (of which there were now two- more on that to come) just let me sit there and soak it all in. It was divine. And so unlike my past births.



After a good long cuddle, I got out of the tub and delivered my placenta. My mom and Stephen were with the baby. I felt so alive, so present. It is hard to explain. After my last two births I had a cuddle and fell asleep. This time, despite wanting to sleep through my labor, I was wide awake and felt completely normal. I didn't feel like I had just given birth- I felt like I could walk out of the center then and there if I needed to.

So now for the funny part. As you can see from the above photo, I was wearing a pink/fleshy colored genie bra in the birthing pool. When the baby was born and brought to my chest, her little foot slipped into my bra. It didn't phase me and I didn't remove it. Stephen, who was sitting at the bottom of the pool, could only see that she had one leg. He tried to nonchalantly ask if they were going to count her fingers and toes (he didn't want to distress me) but they waved it off and told him they would do that shortly. So the whole time, Stephen is sitting there worried that she only has one leg and, because the atmosphere was so relaxed, his concerns were brushed aside. It might not be hilarious but that story cracks me up.

Being a midwife must be a very rewarding job. My original midwife, Denise, had seen to me the entire day. It must be quite disappointing to spend a day laboring with a woman and then get off work minutes before she delivers. She was so keen to be a part of the birth that she decided to stay. She signed over to Helen, whom I had met on a few of my antenatal visits, but she wanted to be present for the birth. It was nice to have two familiar faces at the birth. She kept saying she had to leave to go to her daughter's gymnastics class- it was funny. She stayed for the birth, congratulated me and rushed off. I wouldn't have had it any other way.

So there it. My birthing story, otherwise known as my faith in the NHS being restored. The best part? Not a drip, not a needle, nothing. The differences are staggering. When you walk through the door of a hospital in the USA you are immediately hooked up to drips and machines and all sorts. WHY?! There is really no need for it (in most cases). It was such an amazing experience and I recommend it highly! There is no better way to make yourself feel like an instant tough guy, either!


Baby girl Bailey, born at 431 PM weighing 9 pounds 0.5 ounces. My biggest baby yet and done all naturally!





She is a spitting image of her sister. She has reddish hair. She had some burst blood vessels in her eye from descending so rapidly. The midwives said when babies are down for a while they have time to adjust to the pressure change but she obviously came so quickly that she didn't have time to adjust.

It is amazing how quickly you forget the pain of child birth. Another amazing trick of the body. There is nothing quite like giving birth and nursing a baby to remind you how amazing our bodies are. You can create a human and keep it alive with your body with no help whatsoever. It is amazing. I am lucky and blessed to be a Mama x 3 :)