Kivi's Birth Story

On April 4, 2016 I had my last appointment with my OB/GYN. He checked if I was dilated; I still was only at a 1 and the baby wasn't very low. Since I was going to be induced the next day he suggested inserting a Foley balloon to dilate me. It's basically like a catheter for your cervix. It was very painful and uncomfortable while he was putting it in. Once I got home I was in a lot of pain with cramping. Apparently that was my cervix dilating because after 6 hours it fell out. I was nervous so I called the hospital just in case to see what I should do. The nurse said that it was great that it was out and that meant I was dilated. The cramping had stopped and I felt much better once it was out.

April 5, 2016 I called the hospital at 5:30am to see what time I needed to come in to be induced. She told me I needed to come in at 7:30am. I was too excited to go back to sleep so I prepared my hospital bag and ate breakfast since I knew once I was there they wouldn't let me eat. I woke my mom at 7am. She was who I wanted with me during labor. She was there for Lucy's labor and delivery. 

We got to the hospital, registered, and checked in by around 8am. I was really nervous about having a failed induction or getting sent home even though my doctor assured me that wouldn't happen. My labor and delivery nurse was so nice and easy to talk to. Once I was hooked up with my IV that just had fluids for now, I was checked to see how far I was dilated. I was at a 4! I was very sore and it hurt to be checked so my doctor thought it would be best to break my water after my epidural. I was so grateful. I had to wait until I had a certain amount of fluids in me before my epidural. By 8:30am the nurse anesthetist was wheeling her epidural equipment in.

She had horrible bedside manner and was not very nice. She got the epidural in with no problems and left (thankfully). The epidural is always my favorite part. It's nice to get some relief after 10 months of pregnancy agony. 

The doctor came and broke my water and they started my pitocin. I'm not sure what time it was but I needed to throw up. I emptied my stomach. All my breakfast came back. I felt better instantly after throwing up. Time ticked on without much happening. Every so often I had to throw up again. It wasn't even nausea, it would just kind of need to happen and it needed to happen now. 

I progressed slowly all day. I kept setting goals of when I wanted to have the baby by. First I said by dinner time, then I said 7pm. I wasn't progressing past a 9 and I couldn't stop throwing up. I had severe heartburn and I was so tired of throwing up blood and stomach acid. My mom asked the nurses if I could have anything for my heartburn and vomiting. The doctor called in Zofran for my IV(doesn't ever work on me, but I was willing to try anything) and Maalox. The Maalox was mint and it helped instantly. The last time I threw up I started sobbing. I did not want to throw up again. I was exhausted and couldn't stop weeping. 

My mom asked if I wanted my brother and dad to come give me a blessing. I was too emotional and kept saying I didn't want anyone else in there. She said a prayer for me.

The doctor came back to check me and I was still at a 9 and my cervix wasn't all the way thinned. He also informed me that my baby was posterior-or face up. (With Lucy, she turned before delivery and everything went perfectly. I only pushed three times with my last delivery.) The doctor told me the baby was still up kind of high and he wanted me to start pushing to get her to move down. 

I felt more pain with pressure so the nurse anesthetist came back and gave me more epidural. I was very numb after that.

I was so tired and scared but I was ready to start pushing. I had two nurses and my mom holding my legs and cheering me on with each push. I pushed twice and got discouraged because I felt like nothing was happening. I was back to weeping and sobbing. Not just kind of crying, but truly ugly crying. Every contraction was pushing and weeping. Some things I kept saying were: "I'm not enough." "My best is not enough." "I'm not doing anything." "She's never coming out."

I pushed for about 45 minutes and I could feel her moving down, but I was still very discouraged. At no point did I stop crying. The doctor came back in and checked me. He started to assist I guess by stretching me. I'm not really sure I just knew he was doing something with each contraction. She wasn't moving down anymore so he told me he was going to use the vacuum to get her out. I was actually grateful to hear that since I was so tired and I knew there was an end. 

I was now in more pain which meant she was almost here. More pushing. Then he told me I needed to push really hard and he was going to suction her out. I gave it all I had. She was coming out! Then her shoulders got stuck. Ouch. Extreme pain. His voice changed to very serious and even though I was not contracting he said I needed to push NOW. I pushed as hard as I could and felt her come out. I sobbed harder. It was 10:25pm.

They put her right to my chest. I kept saying, "She's here. My baby." My arms were weak and I was struggling to stop crying. (see picture) She was crying and had lots of black hair. I'm so glad my mom was there to get pictures of us right when she came out. 

They took her away, cleaned her up, and weighed her while I was getting stitched up. I had a second degree laceration which I wasn't worried about because I tore the same with Lucy's delivery. I was anxious to see how much she weighed. I was looking over and when I saw the screen with her weight I could not believe it. She was 9 pounds 1 ounce and 20 inches long! Lucy was 7 pounds 4 ounces so when I saw that I couldn't fathom how I carried and delivered a baby that weighed two pounds more than her. It made sense why pushing was so much harder. 

Kivi is here and I'm so glad she's outside of my body. She is such a good baby. Very low maintenance. I'm so blessed to have two beautiful girls.

Been Away for Awhile

I've been away for awhile, you know, improving my life and such... oh wait.. Best part is, I've done nothing. Well actually, I have done a lot, just not the things that necessarily improve lives.

Most recently, I was in an abusive relationship. And now I can fully understand why women don't just leave. I can't even explain it, nor do i wish to explain. But hey, go easy on those who are beaten and battered.

Here's an affliction I face: I am only attracted to black men. I'm not sure if it's a problem or not but I find myself almost repulsed by most white men. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical since I'm white but, s'all good. I like what I like. One of the only things I'm sure about in my life.

Boredom takes its toll, but i am working on growing another human, so i'm doing something at least. First trimester, I couldn't eat and threw up every single day and night. I lost 15 pounds which was weird. I had one ER trip and more than my fair share of my favorite suppository (ever insert a phenergan in a public bathroom? I sure have).  Second trimester has proven to be much better. I'm starving all the time, which is a change and I can't sleep past 7 or 8am without getting up to eat. Babies are tough work.. all this eating all the time..

Father of baby is not in the picture. So, I guess baby is all mine. I find out the gender in 4 days. I want a girl, but a boy wouldn't ruin my life either. I just hope the baby is still alive. I just have to assume there's still life inside me. I did hear the heart beat at 9 weeks, pretty cool. I have two heartbeats right now. 'Beat' that.... uh...

So anyway, the lesson to learn is this: decide what you want to do in your life instead of running around the country, getting pregnant, and getting charges against you. I mean it's fun and all. Just not that fun..

Finally a full-time job.

I work at the Homestead Assisted living center in Rexburg, Idaho. I work the graveyard shift alone in building 2. That's safe. Don't worry about a thing. I don't get a differential and I make minimum wage. I will be staying for at least 6 months at which time I'll receive a raise. I don't wipe many bums. I mainly cook and clean for ten hours straight. When I do have human contact it's usually one of the residents insulting me. One said, "You are heavy." Another said, "Walking a mile every day will do you good." Yes! Even the people who's tushes I have to wipe insult me.

Obviously I got enough beef that I didn't go to hair school. (Easier to blame everyone else than admit I never really wanted to go in the first place because it was Riley's dream and not my own.) Too much debt and I'd rather just move out. I NEED to move out. It's almost an emergency.

I need more electronics to make me happy. Let's face it, when people say money can't buy happiness, they're lying. Ask anyone with a really expensive phone and computer. They're so happy, it's not fair.

On another note, I have an addiction to craigslist. Not buying or selling things, but reading and responding to personal ads. I may or may not be done with posting ads... but there's something mysterious about responding to the unknown (knappy) craigslist man. Anyway, the usual.

Paul Mitchell Hair Academy: A partner school

Ladies and gentlemen I am starting hair school. Obviously, I hated college. Oh and p.s. I withdrew from one class and got an "f" in the other class. Right now it's just not my thing. So, I'm going to Paul Mitchell in Rexburg on February 17th. The question everyone is now asking me is: Are you passionate about doing hair? I have no idea. But I'm going into 14,000 dollars worth of debt so in some way, yes, I'm "passionate". I need 500 bucks by the first day. No loans or anything. How am I going to do that? No idea. So tight. Anyway, I'm going to be in school getting other people's hair caught in my mouth for 18 months. I sincerely hope my severe debt is worth this risk. Anyway, my life is still, The Usual.

Spud harvest.

Not only am I not in school, but I have no money. I'm poor and bored. A friend of mine thought up the great idea to work potato harvest. For those of you not familiar with potato harvest, I'll give you a brief rundown.

Potato harvest is an Idaho only thing. It might even be a Rexburg, Idaho only thing. The schools get out for about a week to a week and a half to harvest potatoes. I'd say about 25% of the kids actually work. It's a pretty big deal. It's the window for all the potato farmers to get the potatoes out of the ground and put them in giant cellars. They temporarily hire tons of Mexicans and high school kids to deal with the filthy vegetable. And because potatoes are not glorified enough, this brief period of time is called spud harvest.

So I get hired. I'm kind of pumped because you make a lot of money due to the fact that you work 13 hour days. I arrive on the scene very ill prepared. I did not bring warm clothes or gloves. Mistake. Gloves and coats are a necessity. Once I obtained these items I'm good to go. One thing people do not realize is that shovelling is extremely labor-intensive. My task for 13 hours was to shovel dirt. I move a pile of dirt from one place to another. Why? No idea. After a long day of that my hands hurt to make a fist. But it's worth it right? Right...

Here's the thing: the potatoes rushing past you on multiple conveyor belts is nauseating. It truly is. You stare at them for so long that when the machine is turned off and you have ringing in your ears, the potatoes look like they are moving slowly in the opposite direction. Intense vertigo. Another point, the smell of dirt and "spuds" is kind of pleasant. They're like an old friend greeting you and reminding you that you will never be done sorting potatoes. See, but it's all a trick. You think it's a nice smell and that very well may be true. But imagine this, you get home and strip off your many layers, you get in the shower and see the dirt running down the drain, the shower is as hot as it will go and it's burning your skin but it's still not hot enough, and to top it all off you blow your nose and the mucus is completely brown and crusty and hurts. Cool. That "pleasant" dirty smell has now turned into a bloody nightmare in your nose.

Anyway, this better be worth it and I mean I better make big money. I don't want to strain my groin just for a couple of bucks. Let's just say: Yay Spud harvest!

Dude, College Life

I am now in college. This is the real thing. I went to high school for four years and hated every day. I had the maximum number of absences in every class. Why did I think it would be a great idea to go to college the summer after my senior year? I hate school.

I live in the dorms. I have two roommates. On roommate's name is Aubrey. She is a previous cheerleader and track star. She is shorter than me and very cute. My other roommate's name is Amber. She is a very kind person. We don't have much in common, but she is a very kind person. She is 22 years old.

I have two classes. One class is a joke. American foundations is twice a week for one hour and forty minutes a day. Going to class is not mandatory, so why go? My other class is Writing Foundations. It's a two and a half hour class Tuesday-Thursday Sweet!

My family lives a quarter of a mile away. I'm not actually "away at college". Well, I am but not really. If my parents need something, then I'm not away. But if I need something, I'm far away. Living close does have it's advantages though. For example: I can borrow the car, eat their food, etc...

Men in general. Boys in college are almost worse than boys in high school. Everyone thinks they'll be more mature just because there is a change in venue. False. This is not the case. The male sex still thinks and acts the same. The same girls will be liked that were liked in high school and the same girls will not be liked. There will be no surprises.

I came to college with high expectations. Bad choice. College is no more special than high school. I'm sure if you asked my roommate Aubrey - who is skinny and gorgeous - she would disagree. She would say college is a blast. That her classes are super fun and college boys are so much more mature. It all depends if you were popular in high school I guess. I was not.

Wal-Mart - My Safe Haven

Many people spend years of their lives looking for a place of contentment. For some it is their garden or a quiet respite, for others it is a sense of excitement or exhilaration. I have found a rather unconventional safe haven: Wal Mart. I feel at home at Wal Mart because it is familiar, wardrobe does not matter, and I feel unknown. There is also always something to do there. I am never bored because numerous people that I can observe surround me. I also like to touch and smell everything. Going into the candle-or even the household cleaner-section provides of variety of smells and colors that appeal to me. Wal Mart provides more than just goods and services, more than just low prices and smiling faces; it is a place to re-center myself.

Wal Mart is so familiar to my family and me that we affectionately call it “Walmy’s.” Even as a child of but nine years, I was often taken along on my mother’s numerous trips, and this habit that began before my age of majority has since continued and evolved. My mother sends me to Wal Mart with a large list. The list will have a range of everything from a gallon of milk to six inch white augers. I get everything on the list and then come home. She then tells me she needs something else and I must go back that day to get it. Once, my dad had a honey emergency. I had to go to Wal Mart immediately to pick some up. At this time, the store was being re-modeled so I was a little out of sorts. I could not find the honey. I walked up and down every food aisle multiple times. I finally broke down and asked an employee.

“Excuse me, do you know where the honey is?” I humbly inquired of a female associate.

“Yes, I think it’s right here,” she confidently replied while turning around to show me where she believed it to be.

She did the exact same thing as me. She walked up and down, up and down, searching. As it turned out, she could not find it either. There was no honey in the store. I thanked her and went on my way. I had walked about 30 feet when I heard someone saying “ma’am!” I turned around and the same woman that helped me was running toward me. She found the honey. She looked for it even after I walked away. She went above and beyond her call of duty. Only my mother in her own home would do that for me. I am intimately acquainted with Wal Mart because of the frequency of my visits. I feel so comfortable in Wal Mart that being there evokes a sense of familiarity unequaled by anywhere but my own home.

If I am in my pajamas I do not need to change my outfit to something more formal. Once, my little sister and I went out to lunch in our pajamas and no shoes because it was a lazy day. My pajamas were four sizes too big and had a gingham print. They were also too short and had holes in them. My sister, Elizabeth, was wearing high-water sweats and an old ratty t-shirt. We looked like homeless people. We went to a drive-thru restaurant so as to not have to get out of the car. On our way home my mom called and told me I had to pick something up from Wal Mart, of course. We rushed home and my sister picked up the first shoes she could find, when she came out she was holding two pairs of shoes. The shoes she got me were high-heeled, pointy-toed, tweed, slip-on church shoes. The shoes she got herself were black, peep-toe, kitten heels. We walked into the store and I was laughing so hard; I could not control myself. I was not embarrassed in any way. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen, I could not keep a straight face. Every time I looked at Elizabeth I would go into hysterics. Luckily, we saw a couple people that we knew. The friends we saw didn’t think less of us, they just laughed along with us because it is acceptable to wear our attire in a place such as Wal Mart.

“Hi Rebekah,” one friend said with a cute smirk.

“Hey Erica, do you like my outfit?” I replied while laughing.

“Ha ha! I love it! That’s hilarious, only you could pull that off,” she commented.

“Thank you. I thought so as well.”

When I’m at home I can dress as casually as a please, so it is with Wal Mart; wardrobe does not matter.

Have you ever felt bad for someone shopping alone at Wal Mart? No, because shopping at a one-stop store alone is common. I don’t often have someone to run errands with me. I have grown accustomed to being alone when shopping. Not only have I gotten used to it; I actually prefer it. The great thing is, I am not judged for being a loner. I am anonymous and I feel like a tiny insect blending into a swarm of chaos. I can lose myself in the bliss of useless merchandise. I love to walk around and look at everything. I feel free to touch anything in reach. Wal Mart may seem dirty to others, but I grew up with six siblings, five of which are boys. I don’t mind when things are a little out of place. The toys all over the floor and every single one turned on and singing an annoying song is a remembrance of my early childhood years. That’s what makes Walmy’s homey. Hearing the chaotic mess of various children and adults is a common sound to me. My home is not a quiet place. I don’t judge people according to their shopping-cart choices. I once saw a woman with a cart filled to capacity with cartons of gallons of milk. My mind was literally blown. If she were to judge me, she would be extremely hypocritical.

Though it may not be seen as orthodox, Wal Mart brings feeling of comfort and peace. Being there helps to calm me and relax my nerves. My grandparents refuse to set foot in that facility. They feel as though it is white trash and low quality. If my grandma was given a choice between two of the exact same products, and one was more expensive, she would purchase the more expensive one. She believes price dictates quality. I do not share this belief with her. My friends will not buy clothes there because it is not name-brand enough. If a sweater is not at least 30 dollars and it doesn’t have some kind of logo on the front, my teenage friends will not buy it. One of my high school teachers felt like it was a social hub. They believed that they would always see a close friend, which in a way is the truth. Everyone goes to Wal Mart sometime or another. Contrasted to that, I view it as my home away from home, my solace in the summer storm, the eye of the hurricane, the life-saver in the flashflood. When I see it figuratively cresting over the hill I feel like a baby resting in his mother’s arms in which I will soon be ensconced. There is no feeling like it other than when you are away on a long trip and you come home to be embraced by your loving family.