Leah's Birth Story

     Leah's birth story actually kind of begins back when I was pregnant with Jocelyn. I am a bit of a birth nerd and love doing birth research, learning about the different aspects of birth, reading birth stories and watching birth videos. I've joked for a long time that if I had a stronger stomach (I don't do blood and guts) I would become a birth doula. Anyway, I was on a birth video kick while I was pregnant with Jocelyn and couldn't get enough of them. I would watch these beautiful birth center and home birth videos and cry, thinking, "Why can't I have that? Why can't I have those kinds of experiences and feel those kinds of powerful emotions?" I just figured that I could never be strong enough to do something like that, that a natural birth out of the hospital just wasn't going to ever be in the cards for me. So, I'd watch those videos and cry for a bit, then distract myself and try to move on. On and on this went. Though I still desperately wanted it, I intentionally kept a birth center/home birth off of my (literal) bucket list just so that I didn't have one thing on my list that I could never cross off. I went on to have a hospital/medicated birth with Jocelyn that was beautiful in its own right.

     Fast forward three years and I am expecting Leah. The desire for a birth center/home birth never left me and once again my thoughts were consumed by what could be. I carefully tested the waters with Stephen to see what he thought of an out-of-hospital birth and he was not in favor. I didn't push it but felt super disappointed and defeated and started to try and get used to the idea of another hospital birth. Now, with the exception of Benjamin's birth (he came via a traumatic cesarean section) my hospital births were good experiences that taught me much, but I was always left wanting. I always felt like I had missed out on something that was calling to me. It was that void that kept me unsettled and searching for something greater, and it was that void that propelled me to jump into research once again. I reread my favorite birth book, "The Gift of Giving Life" and kept careful notes of things that stood out to me or impressions I had had. It felt like I had read the book for the first time all over again and the call to an experience outside of the hospital was as strong as ever. I would occasionally share my thoughts and feelings with Stephen who was always so respectful and kind in response, but I knew he still didn't quite understand. During this time we were also in the process of buying and renovating a house out in Stansbury Park so I knew his thoughts and time were pretty consumed by that (VERY large) project. I tried to be patient with him, but it was still hard to feel so alone in my pregnancy journey. So, I walked this path of learning and discovery largely on my own (I didn't initially feel like anyone could fully support me seeking out an out-of-hospital birth). A number of weeks went by and stress with our house and Leah's pregnancy was higher then ever. Stephen caught me off guard by revealing that he had been doing his own research on an out-of-hospital birthing and felt like he had reached a point to where he could support me should I want to commit to that path. I was very excited! We decided we wanted to look at birth centers.

     We spent many months interviewing midwives at various birth centers all around Salt Lake and Utah Counties but nothing ever felt right. I felt very much that this birth was meant to transform me spiritually and I wanted someone who understood that and could support me in it. After many interviews I grew quite discouraged. Then finally we interviewed a midwife in West Jordan that felt better then anyone else had and we decided to ask her to join our birth team. After discussing our needs and hopes with her, she was the one who decided that she wasn't a good fit for us and turned us away. The discouragement was heavier then ever and I started to wonder if maybe this was the Lord's way of redirecting me to a hospital birth. Shortly after that we discovered that my placenta was located directly over my previous cesarean scar and that legally no licensed midwife could take me on as a client as I was now considered high risk. Oh, how I cried and cried! I was referred to Maternal Fetal Medicine (MFM) for care and careful monitoring and I starting walking this difficult line of hanging on to hope that I could still have my birth center birth and accepting the fact that I likely couldn't and needed to work on adjusting my attitude towards another hospital birth. This was a very dark and difficult time during my pregnancy that required a lot of faith and prayer, and oh how we prayed for a miracle!

     When I was 28 weeks pregnant I had an in-depth ultrasound that would determine if my placenta had moved away from my scar sufficiently to remove my "high risk" label. I held my breath during that scan, trying to prepare myself for unfavorable news. Within just a few minutes, however, it was pretty clear to the MFM doctor that my placenta had in fact moved off of my scar (though it was right next to my scar by a hair line) and while the doctor was in favor of me delivering at a hospital he didn't feel like I was at any more risk than the average, normal pregnant woman to deliver outside of the hospital. It was a miracle! I felt an overwhelming amount of gratitude to my Father in Heaven for such a blessing.

     So, the hunt for a midwife continued. I HATED that I had to continue the hunt. I was done. So it got put off for a while and I went into my 32-33 weeks of pregnancy without a provider. By recommendation, I looked into a midwifery practice out in Tooele that was close to home. I scheduled a consultation and hoped and prayed that this was it, that these ladies were the right ones for us. The day of our consultation I finished up "The Gift of Giving Life" and one small paragraph at the end stood out to me. It talked about how all of Heavenly Father's children are blessed with gifts and talents to benefit the world and that the reader should be cautious to not judge a provider by their appearance but by how they feel around them. This was particularly interesting to me because all along I had had this idea in mind that my provider would be an older, more experienced grandmotherly-type and that was what I kept looking for. When we went to our appointment later that night I had an unforgettable experience. The Tooele Midwifery midwives were not much older than me. They had tattoos, facial piercings, one had dreadlocks and they had a different taste in clothing. In my eyes, they were total hippies and not at all what I had envisioned for myself. However, just minutes after talking to them I knew without question that these were my girls and I needed them by my side. They were kind, compassionate and really listened to me. We expressed our hopes and desires for our birth and they were fully invested and supportive. I started crying and blurted out, "These are my ladies! I've looked so long for you!" While I'm sure that was super awkward and weird of me (oh, the joys of pregnancy hormones!) they responded kindly to that, too! Haha.

     I finally had a provider and could resume prenatal care. Another miracle occurred and we discovered that for the first time ever I was group strep B negative during a pregnancy! This meant no stinking IV during delivery, which is easily one of the worst parts about labor and delivery for me. We also came to realize (through further education) that there really is no difference between a birth center birth and a home birth. The exact same supplies, medications, and emergency essentials available at a birth center are also brought to a home birth. It was around this time that we decided to go for a home birth instead as birthing at home would be more convenient but also potentially more intimate, which was a big thing for me. We kept this decision to ourselves (telling very, very few people and only people we knew would be 100% supportive), not sure how friends and family would respond and not able or willing to deal with any potential negativity or horror stories (why are people always SO eager to share horror stories?!). We had done our homework, we were educated and, most importantly we were following the promptings we felt we were receiving in regards to this birth. We felt confident in our decision and at peace with our plans.

     August 3rd we moved into our home. Our days were still filled with unpacking and cleaning and setting up but it felt so good to be back in our own space, running our own home how we wanted to. Even still, the stress continued level to climb as we still had many projects around the house that needed to be done. By recommendation of my midwives, I made a list of things that absolutely had to be done before baby came and I shifted my focus to those things only. It felt good to have a sense of direction and it lessened the feelings of being overwhelmed. I prayed and prayed that I would have at least two weeks to settle before baby came and those two weeks came and went. All of the items on my must-have done list were complete and I felt a great sense of relief wash over me. Things started to calm down and I welcomed with eagerness the lazy days with my kids. I was blessed with a couple more weeks to just be with my kids and I realized with surprise how much I had missed just being with them, watching them play, reading to them and doing other activities with them. It healed my soul in ways I didn't even realize that I needed, and I am so grateful that God did.

     My due date was just around the corner and prodromal labor (start-stop labor over a long period of time, in my case 2-3 weeks) had long since started as it had with each of my babies before. For an FHE activity we decided to make me an affirmations banner together as a family. It was such a simple activity but it brought that feeling of unity and excitement for our baby that I feel we had been missing. We originally planned on not actually hanging up the banner until I was in active labor, but at the urging of the kids it went right up. Looking back, I'm grateful we hung it early because I got to enjoy it for a while not realizing that come labor day I wouldn't even glance at it, let alone give birth near it as originally planned.

    My due date (August 31st) came and went, which was a great surprise to us as I tend to go into labor a bit early. I was pretty content waiting, however, and enjoyed each day I had to just be. Prodromal labored continued. On September 2nd at 2am a stronger contraction woke me enough to think, "Hmmm, maybe this is it." Contractions came every 5-15 minutes for the next 5 hours, never getting more consistent and never getting stronger, but not stopping either. Around 5am Stephen and I got out of bed and putzed around the house. I got into the shower and at sunrise we called my mom to come pick up the kids, certain active labor was right around the corner. We gave my doula, Dani, and my midwives a heads up but told them to hold off on coming until we gave them the green light (we wanted to make certain that things were progressing). We joked about going into labor and having a baby on Labor Day. Around 7am my mom picked up the kids and Stephen and I went for a walk to try to get the contractions closer together and stronger. Labor did not progress. In fact, it stopped all together. All day long I would go from having an hour or two of stop-and-breathe-through contractions to nothing at all for several more hours. Back and forth it went. We went to Walmart for some last minute things and to just distract ourselves when labor picked up again. I had to hide down empty aisles to work through contractions, no longer able to work through them quietly which was super embarrassing. On our way back out to the car I stopped in the middle of the parking lot to work through a particularly large contraction and we had a Walmart employee stop and ask if we needed help. I wanted to disappear, I was so embarrassed.

      By 4pm we determined that labor wasn't actually going to go anywhere anytime too soon and we didn't want to putz around the house anymore, moping. So, we packed up and headed out to my mom's to pick kids back up and enjoy a couple of different Labor Day family BBQs. When we got to my mom's we learned that Ian had somehow contracted pink eye. We decided not to go to the Palmer family BBQ and expose everyone there so we just stayed at my mom's where everyone had already been exposed. Laughing and playing and visiting with family served as a welcome distraction. We had a wonderful time actually, and I was grateful for the little bit of a break I had from hours of contractions as I was feeling pretty worn out. On our way home that night I had 3 contractions that were so powerful, so intense and unlike anything I had ever before experienced that I knew I had turned a labor corner. I was all but screaming and clawing out of my seat. Fortunately, I had taken careful time and preparation to normalize labor and delivery for my kids so they weren't surprised or worried. We actually have spent quite a bit of time reading together about birth, watching birth videos and discussing birth with our kids. They were very fascinated. Stephen didn't want our kids to be at the birth (though I did) but we felt like it was a good idea to prepare them anyway. We've had wonderful discussions and learning opportunities!

     True to the fashion of that day, contractions spaced out and then stopped again. Wondering for the millionth time how much longer this was going to go on we went to bed. Sometime around 11pm-12am I was awoken by another one of those claw-out-of-my-seat contractions followed by another one 15-20 minutes later. Not wanting to get out of bed for nothing and not wanting to wake Stephen, I worked through them alone in silence (which is a feat in and of itself!). On and on those contractions continued for hours, still only 15-20 minutes apart. I managed to sleep in between most of them, which I was grateful for. Around 3-4am I started getting some as close as 8 minutes and they got even stronger. No longer able to work through it alone I woke Stephen. I labored in bed with Stephen for a short while feeling extremely worn down and weak, worried that I couldn't actually do this anymore. I cried as I expressed my feelings of defeat to Stephen, who pulled me close and sweetly caressed my face, whispering in my ear his belief in me. It was the sweetest, most intimate moment between us during my labor and his words instilled in me a renewed sense of confidence and determination. He may never fully understand what his words of encouragement did for me just then, as it was the closest I had felt to him in many months. I was so grateful that we could have that small moment together before bringing our baby earthside.

     We soon got out of bed as contractions became nearly unbearable. I labored in our room, trying to contain the noise so I didn't wake the kids just yet. I was also in denial that this could be the real thing so we didn't make any phone calls. Sooooo much prodromal and start-stop labor will do that to you. I also wanted to avoid the embarrassment of calling everyone in when it was nothing, especially in the wee hours of the morning (now September 3rd). I'd pace our room and bend over our bed as a contraction started while Stephen applied counter pressure to my hips and back while I growled low and loud into a hand towel. The towel was meant to stifle the noise but for whatever reason, it quickly became an object of comfort. Each contraction I frantically looked for my blue hand towel and held it to my face. I couldn't get through a contraction without it.

     Now, one of my goals and dreams this labor and delivery was to have a deeply spiritual experience. I wanted to be spiritually transformed during this process. I wanted to be close to my Father and Mother in Heaven and I wanted to feel the love of my Savior and come to understand and appreciate His Atonement in a new way. I had figured that this would come during the most difficult and final stages of delivery, but I was blessed with these tender experiences earlier on (not knowing that the actual delivery would be much too intense for me to be tuned in spiritually). These experiences are too personal to go into detail here, but I have never felt closer to heaven then I did at that time. I didn't fully realize the significance of praising God through my own little Gethsemane until later, but I am grateful for those connections to heaven I had throughout labor. They were a beautiful blessing and taught me much.

     I got into the shower, seeking relief when suddenly contractions were every 1-2 minutes. It was only then that I started to wonder if we needed to call in our birth team. It was about 6am. Stephen made those phone calls while I worked through a couple of contractions and let me know that everyone was on their way, including Brandi, my sister-in-law, who was going to take pictures for us and my mom to come pick up kids again. I made it a point to dress in the floral gown I had bought for labor and delivery. For whatever silly reason, I wanted to feel beautiful on my birthing day.

     Brandi was the first to arrive and I was so grateful for her calming spirit. I really needed her there. Concepts of time get blurry after this point, but I remember running to the bathroom to try and clear my bowels out before my midwives got there, scared of the potential of the embarrassment of having a bowel movement during delivery. I even told Stephen to not let my midwives back into our bathroom until I came out, haha! My midwives arrived as I was in the bathroom and I came out to the living room to see them setting up the birth pool. I didn't have my heart set on a water birth but I thought it might be cool to try it out. As it turned out, they didn't have enough time to set the tub up, nor was the hose long enough to reach a water source. I didn't mind one bit though because I preferred being upright in a squatting position during contractions.

     I noticed that the boys had woken up and we're sitting at the table, eating breakfast. Their eyes were wide with excitement as they watched everyone rush around and I was happy that they were awake and could be with me even for just a little bit. I labored now out in the living room and my labor took another turn, increasing again in intensity. I remember the boys making comments about how the noises I was making were normal and that they didn't need to worry. It was sweet.

     Bryanna asked if  she could check the baby's heartbeat, which was normal, and I felt some relief. She also asked if I wanted a cervical check but I was so worried that she'd tell me I wasn't complete and I didn't think I could handle that, especially since I didn't know how my contractions could get any stronger as they were now completely overwhelming. I was starting to get a little screamy and Bryanna had to coach me back down to low growls. Dani arrived somewhere around this point and I was so relieved that she had made it.

     My midwives pulled out the birth stool and asked if I wanted to try sitting on it. I was still standing and squatting through contractions, which was still what my body preferred, but I thought I'd try it. I scarcely grazed the top of the stool before I let out a shriek and jumped right back up. The sharp pain from trying to sit was unimaginable! So standing and squatting it was. I moved on from the hand towel as my anchor and for whatever reason I latched on to a particular section of wall right next to the hall closet. Whenever I felt a contraction coming on I hurried to my wall and squatted up against it while one of my midwives or Dani or someone (I kept my eyes shut tight during contractions so I never knew who it was) applied counter pressure to my hips. The most fascinating sensation for me was experiencing my brain turning off and my primal instincts kicking in. I didn't have to think through anything. My body just knew what the baby and I needed and it did it. Very soon I suddenly started making this grunting sound through contractions and I heard Bryanna call to Amy, "she's pushing." This caught me completely off guard. I had fully expected this crazy, uncontrollable urge to push but that was not my experience at all. While it was still very instinctual, I felt like I could have controlled it had I wanted to. I began pushing and grunting like this through every contraction, still standing up and squatting. It felt SO much better to push.

     I labored like this for maybe 4 or 5 contractions when someone suggested trying to find relief in our tub in the master bathroom. I agreed and we slowly made our way down the hallway, stopping for contractions. We were just outside Jocelyn's room but by some miracle she slept through the whole thing. I'll never know how, I was so loud.

     I did not find relief in the tub. Sitting in the water was very uncomfortable and so I got up on hands and knees and someone drained the tub. I felt super embarrassed because I did indeed crap myself in the tub while pushing and kept saying, "I'm so embarrassed, I'm so embarrassed." Dani and Bryanna kept trying to reassure me that it was normal but it did little to console me. It didn't take long though before contractions somehow increased in intensity again and I stopped caring. I got back up and resumed standing and squatting. Contractions were on top of each other and more powerful then ever. I couldn't believe the sensations I was experiencing and got more screamy and a bit frantic as fear filled my being. I kept pleading, "Lord, please help me! Please help me!" I held on to Dani for dear life and desperately wanted it all to be over. As hard as everything had been up to this point, this was easily the hardest part for me. I felt so incredibly afraid and worn down and I was in a tremendous amount of pain that felt at times to be overpowering. I fought it and lost again and again. I NEEDED it to end.

     I needed to know that I was close and asked Bryanna to check me. Sure enough, I was 10 cm dilated and 100% effaced. I cried out repeatedly in relief, "Oh, thank you Lord, thank you Lord!" My mom arrived around this point and I remember her popping into the bathroom briefly with the boys. One particular contraction I felt the baby's head move down. That sensation caught me completely off guard and freaked me out. I yelled, "Her head! Her head! I feel her head!" Dani and Bryanna calmly reassured me that this was good, but I wasn't having it. I yelled, "No, no, no!" and baby's head went right back up. The mind-body connection is amazing!

     I started pleading aloud, again, "I need a break, I need a break!" Almost immediately a quiet calm filled my very being and a peace filled the room that was so tangible I felt like I could touch it. No contractions. No pain. No fear. I couldn't believe it! I rejoiced over and over and expressed my surprise to my birth team. Dani quietly reminded me, "Well, you did ask your Father in Heaven for a break." I was deeply humbled and grateful for her reminder. I'm not entirely sure how long that break lasted. Maybe it was one minute. Maybe it was five. Whatever it was it was a healing balm to my soul and I was extremely grateful.

     Someone asked me if I wanted out of the tub and I said yes. Dani and Bryanna helped me out of the tub and very, very slowly I made my way into my bedroom. My legs were shaking so badly and felt like they weighed a ton each. I was surprised by how much physical AND mental effort it took to put one foot in front of the other. I ended up at the foot of my bed where the birth stool and a mat was laid out but I stayed on my feet.

      Contractions picked up again and baby girl moved down quite far. I wasn't in a ton of pain anymore but the intense pressure was overwhelming. I pushed HARD each time, hoping the end was near. It was here that I finally felt myself surrender. I couldn't control it anymore and I subconsciously let go of the fight and just... felt it. My squats with each contraction got very deep. I had my arms around Stephen and he had his arms around me. With each contraction I'd drop into a deep squat and push, then Stephen would help me back up. I was so lost within the sensations I was experiencing, but I do remember thinking, "It's almost over. It's almost over. And when it is over, this moment will seem so small." I held on to the thought of the light after the storm that I knew was coming and that became my lifeline.

     During one push around this time my water broke with a small "pop!" and a gush. The fluid was stained with meconium but it was thin and light in color so Bryanna was not concerned. Just after a few contractions and pushes more I heard Bryanna say, "she's crowning." I wouldn't have known I was crowning because the intense pressure overpowered any other sensation, including "the ring of fire." Bryanna asked if I wanted to reach down and feel her head, but I shook my head vigorously, my eyes shut tight. I regret that now, but in that moment I couldn't move or think about anything "ellective." One or two more pushes and her head was out. I silently cheered, knowing the rest of her body should come easily and quickly. At 7:41am our sweet baby girl was born and she was perfect.

     Someone helped me sit back onto the birth stool and my girl was placed quickly and directly onto my chest. I couldn't give her a good look-over for a few minutes because I was so overcome with relief that all I could do was sit back and breathe, grateful that it was finally over. After a minute I looked down at her and all I could see was Benjamin. She looked just like baby Benjamin! She cried her sweet little cry and I said something incredibly stupid like, "I just had a baby! In my HOUSE!" I noticed that she was covered in vernix, a first for one of our babies. She was sweet and healthy and perfect. I loved her immediately.

     I looked over and saw my mom in my bedroom doorway, sobbing. I hadn't realized that she and the kids were still there (she later told me that they were waiting on Joss to wake up and then everything just happened so fast)! She ushered the boys in and they were wide-eyed and grinning. I was SO excited that they had been there! The boys oooed and awed over their new sister and chattered away excitedly as I delivered the placenta with one more small push. My mom later told us that Benjamin said, "And there's the sack! And that's a lot of blood, but it's not owie blood." Once again I was so grateful that we had taken the time to normalize birth and to prepare the boys for this experience, even if initially we weren't planning on having them present.

     My midwives and Dani helped me settle into bed with baby girl (who was also still attached to the placenta) and the boys climbed on up with us, still ooing and awing. Ian especially was very attached to his new sister and would not leave her side. Dani helped me with our first latch and baby nursed like a champ, then were pretty much left alone for a good amount of time (time is still an iffy concept at this point). No one rushed us. Jocelyn had woken up at this point and my mom brought her in to see the baby. She was still groggy from sleep and didn't seem to understand what was going on, but I was happy that she was there. My little family and I just basked in that endorphin and oxytocin high which was thick and heavy. I loved it all.

      I was in awe over the difference in experience between my hospital births and with what had happened at home. No standard protocol IV. No room filled with people I didn't know and who didn't know me. No one told me when and where and how to labor or push. No counting and holding my breath during pushing (I'm more convinced now that this practice lead to my hyperventilating with my first three births). No immediate chord clamping and cutting. No waiting to hold my baby. No immediate newborn exam and cleaning (minus the initial couple heart rate checks to make sure baby was well, and that was done on my chest). No one cared what the clock was saying and everyone waited for my cue that we were ready for exams. We were blissfully left alone while my midwives cleaned and packed up. It felt like heaven!
   

    When we were good and ready the exams took place next to me on our bed. Benjamin asked if he could cut the chord and I was excited to be able to witness that. He had latched onto one midwife in particular, Melissa, and followed her around asking her endless questions. One of those questions was, "Why do you have nails in your face?" I about died of embarrassment (Melissa has some facial piercings). Melissa was very kind and patient with him, bless her heart.

     Baby girl was a surprising 9 lbs and half an ounce and 19.25 inches long! She was a big girl! My second biggest baby (Benjamin being the biggest at 9 lbs 5 oz). She and I were still doing very well, perfectly happy and healthy. It wasn't until she was five days old that she was named our little Leah Noelle.

     After exams were complete and everything was cleaned and packed up, my midwives and Dani headed out along with my mom and our three oldest kiddos. Brandi stayed for a bit longer, helping me get showered and cleaned up and making sure Stephen and I had something to eat. I will be forever grateful that she was able to be at our birth and take photos, but also for her calming and peaceful presence. I really needed her there and she blessed us in tremendous and significant ways. I am also grateful that timing worked out as such that my mom and kids were present for labor, delivery (my mom got to witness delivery) and immediate postpartum. Those are memories I will forever cherish.
   

     Stephen and I settled into bed with our new daughter and Stephen immediately fell asleep. Adrenaline was still pumping through me so I couldn't sleep but I enjoyed the quiet, cuddling my girl. Many people have asked me since if I would do a home birth again and I don't know how to answer them. Truth be told, it was one of the HARDEST things I have ever done. It was absolutely terrifying. It was grueling. It was unbelievably painful and completely overwhelming and intense. But, it was also one of the most incredible experiences of my life- one that touched me so deeply and blessed my life with such great beauty and meaning that I will never be the same. Welcome earthside, baby girl. We love you.
   

First family photo!

My doula, Dani. 

My midwives from Tooele Midwifery. 

Melissa, Bryanna and Amy. 

My sister-in-law, Brandi. 

Me and my mama. 

                                                                Leah Noelle Palmer
                                                       September 3, 2019 at 7:41 am
                                                           9 lbs .5 oz, 19.25 inches
   

This Parenting Business

I had a neat experience today that I thought I should share. With the addition of sweet Jocelyn to our brood, my routines have been thrown off and I have been trying to adjust to my new "normal." This has included accepting the fact that I cannot do all of the things I used to be able to do, including the fact that I cannot always dedicate a half hour or hour of meaningful and uninterrupted scripture study. Along with accepting that, I've also had to learn to accept that it really is okay that I just do the best that I can, even if that "best" looks different day to day. That is all the Lord asks of me.

Anyway, so my studies have looked a lot like this since we brought Jocelyn home: listening (or half-listening) to a conference talk while I tend to my children and my home. This morning I listened to a conference talk from October 1991 by H. Verlan Anderson, titled "Bring Up Your Children in Light and Truth." This talk was an answer to prayer.

One of my biggest concerns and worries (if not my absolute biggest concern and worry) is being adequate enough to teach my children those things and skills that they will need most in this life. For me, those things include who and Whose they are, delayed gratification, self-control and discipline, love and kindness and, of course, the gospel. It is such a big concern of mine that I often fret about it.

Well, this talk taught/reminded me of two very important truths:

1. The age of accountability is the age of 8 for a good reason! Satan literally cannot tempt my children before this age and therefore has no influence over them. They are purely innocent. These early years are critical for gospel learning and character building because these precious children cannot be touched or swayed by the adversary, and the foundation created here will serve as a foundation for the rest of their lives.

2. My children are not mine and Stephen's alone: they are also Heavenly Father's children. He has entrusted these children to us for very specific reasons and purposes and He is even more invested in them then we are (and we are really invested!). We MUST include Him in our parenting and counsel with Him often. If we can do this, then we will not and cannot go wrong.

I am so grateful for these reminders! As I pondered them, I thought about the latest parenting issue that has been troubling me: getting Benjamin fully potty trained. A seemingly silly thing, but I was also reminded that what matters to me also matters to God, no matter how small or insignificant. Potty training Benjamin has been a on-going process for months and months with very slow progress. I hate it. If I could hire someone else to come do it I would. Quite seriously. Anyway, inspired after my study I decided to take the concern to the Lord, and once again the Spirit touched my heart. I told my Heavenly Father about how scared and insignificant I felt about teaching my children. I told Him about all the things I hoped to teach my children, things that mattered most. I realized that potty trained did not make the list. The Spirit softly spoke to my heart that all I needed to do was focus on the things I most wanted my children to learn- those things of eternal value. If I could do that and then trust in God's hands fully, everything else, including potty training, would take care of itself in it's own due time. Of course this doesn't mean that I should stop encouraging and reminding Benjamin to use the potty, but it did mean that I could stop fretting so much about things that didn't really matter. I felt immense relief!

How grateful I am to know how invested God is in my children and that my efforts can be blessed with grace! How grateful I am to know that Stephen and I are not in this parenting business alone!

Jocelyn's Birth Story

     Because I had gone into labor naturally early with both boys, we fully expected my first contractions with this baby to come early as well. Starting around 36 weeks I had sporadic contractions and some start-stop labor (we didn't know it yet, but baby was posterior and we learned that this can often cause start-stop labor), but it seemed to never amount to anything and it was very frustrating. I also had near constant pelvic pressure and was in a lot of pain. At my 36 week appointment I was dilated to 2cm which encouraged and excited me. Each subsequent appointment, however, I would learn that I had not made any progress and was still dilated to only 2cm. With all of the pain and contractions I was having this was especially discouraging and frustrating. The last weeks of pregnancy were very hard for me, not just because of the pain and seemingly insufficient contractions, but also because I felt like everyone was constantly reminding me that I was still not making any progress and all I wanted to do was to forget about making progress and just enjoy my boys.

     To top it all off, I started having what I thought was severe heartburn. I tried 4 or 5 different medications and home remedies but nothing brought relief. The chest pain got so bad that my nurse midwife decided that she wanted me to go in to the hospital to get checked out in case it wasn't heartburn at all but something more serious. So on Saturday, August 13th (the day before my due date) I asked my mom to come down and watch our boys so we could go in to the hospital. I did NOT want to go, but agreed to appease my midwife and Stephen, who had started to worry. While we waited for my mom's arrival, I bounced on the birth ball and talked with Benjamin, who had just gotten up from his nap. Teasing, Stephen told Benjamin to "tell baby sister that it was time to come out." Benjamin rubbed my belly and spoke the words, then sat back, looked at me quizzically and said, "Mama, it no works!" It sure made us laugh. If only labor worked like that...

     My mom arrived and Stephen and I kissed the boys good-bye. Upon check-in at labor and delivery I was dilated to 3cm. They determined that all was okay with baby and sent us over to the ER to get me checked out. It was a very long and ridiculous process (I was still mad about being there), but tests were run and we waited not-so-patiently for results. While we waited, we decided to watch some of the Olympic games that were on. This was the highlight of the whole ordeal for me as I love the Olympics and desperately wanted to watch the games but we did not have the means to do so at home.While watching the games, I started noticing mild contractions about every five minutes but did not think much of it since I had had so much start-stop, non-productive labor for weeks prior. It started looking like we were going to be in the ER later then expected so my mom packed the boys up and took them to her house for the night. Around 8pm I finally got cleared to go home with a clean bill of health.

     On our way home, we stopped to grab me a Jamba Juice for dinner and Stephen a burger. My contractions started to get a bit stronger and a closer together, but my hope for labor was still reserved. When we got home, we decided to go for a walk to see what happened with the contractions. Almost immediately the contractions became stronger and more frequent and I had to stop and lean into Stephen, moaning through each one. We continued to walk around and around our block, not daring to go too far away from home "just in case." It was 10pm and dark out, our street quiet and peaceful. The night air was cool and the sound of the crickets was very soothing. Despite needing to stop and concentrate through each contraction (now coming on 1-2 minutes apart, but not lasting more than 40 seconds), I really enjoyed that walk with Stephen.

     At about 10:30pm I finally accepted that this was the "real deal" and phoned my doula, Sariah, and my good friend, Amanda, who was going to come and take pictures for us. While we waited for their arrival, I labored on my hands and knees bent over the birth ball. Contractions were so powerful now that they nearly took my breath away, but they still weren't lasting very long so it was still bearable. Amanda was the first to arrive and her presence was so comforting and refreshing (my poor, sweet hubby was so exhausted from a long day at the hospital and then a late night supporting me). She came in with a new energy, a smile and a big pan of brownies. I love her. Stephen decided to give my midwife a call to let her know that we were coming back in to the hospital, this time in labor. I didn't hear much of their exchange but I'm positive she heard me hollering through each contraction. My suspicions were confirmed when Stephen handed the phone to me and my midwife told me to hurry and get my butt in the car. She apparently thought, by the sounds I was making, that I was close to pushing and was really concerned that we wouldn't make it to the hospital in time. I wasn't worried though and would probably have stayed at home a bit longer otherwise. Nevertheless, I was obedient.

     As we were loading up the car, Sariah showed up and the four of us made our way over to the American Fork Hospital about 25 minutes away. Stephen sped the whole way, making the trip in maybe 15 minutes. His driving didn't make me so nervous this time as it was close to midnight and the freeway was pretty clear. Stephen had highway patrol ready on speed dial just in case a cop caught us and tried to pull us over. My midwife, Katherine, frantically called us as we were pulling in to the hospital parking lot, hoping to hear that we were close. She met us outside with a wheelchair, following the sounds of my hollering to locate us in the dark. Katherine immediately started applying counter-pressure to my knees through each contraction which was a welcome relief. I was so grateful for her.

     My room and nurses were all ready to go when we got up to labor and delivery, courtesy of Katherine. They helped me strip down right then and there and throw on a gown. Katherine let me know that the anesthesiologist was not there and that I was probably too far along for an epidural anyway. That is when I panicked. I was in NO WAY prepared for an unmedicated birth and the thought of the possible pain paralyzed me with fear. Katherine checked my cervix and we were all surprised to hear that I was only 5cm along, 100% effaced. I didn't understand how contractions could be this close together and this powerful but not be in transition yet and asked Katherine about it. She said that because I was going so quickly and had hit-the-ground-running with labor that it made sense that contractions would be this intense this early on, and that I'd likely continue to go quickly. She stepped out to phone the anesthesiologist and I prayed hard that he'd make it in time.

     One moment that I was really proud of was when I presented my birth plan to my nurse and made clear my wishes for this labor and delivery. I am not a very assertive person and I struggle quite a bit with standing up for myself, so this was big for me. Luckily, my nurse was very receptive and kind and this made it easier for me to do. Advocating for myself and for my unborn baby made me feel confident and empowered, two things I had hoped to feel during this delivery.

     Amanda and Sariah (who drove their own cars) had arrived and I was yet again grateful for their presence. They brought such a calm, happy and energetic feeling to the room and I couldn't help but feed off of it. In between contractions, we were all laughing, joking and having a good ole' time! It was definitely not your typical labor scene. It was so positive and happy and even fun, as crazy as that sounds. I felt so much love for everyone present and so much gratitude for their support. I couldn't believe that labor could feel this way, but I was sure glad that it did!

      The positive feelings were only magnified ten-fold when I got my epidural (yes! The anesthesiologist arrived in plenty of time!) and I started to feel kind of silly and loopy, but not incoherent. With some coaxing, Katherin broke my waters and found meconium. I got really worried, but Katherine assured me that baby's heart tones looked great thus far and I didn't need to be concerned. She also said that because of the meconium the resuscitation team would be present by precaution. I was still super anxious and periodically asked how baby's heart tones were looking.

     With the epidural, my cervical dilation took off quickly. So quickly that at one point Katherine literally felt my cervix dilate a full centimeter (from 8 to 9) under her fingers within seconds. After laboring for 2 hours at home and 2 hours in the hospital (only 4 hours of labor total!), it was time to push!

     I really hated the pushing. I suddenly lost all positive vibes and energy and felt like I had no strength to go on, even though the pushing had only just begun. A nurse brought in a mirror so I could see my progress and it was neat to watch that little head of dark hair descend, but I was still too tired to be too excited. After what felt like an eternity (it had only been 15 minutes) and with a lot of urging from my midwife to push just one more time with just a little more strength, baby came out in a big splash of green fluid. Baby's chord was immediately cut (which I did not want, but I understood that baby needed immediate care) and she was handed off to the resuscitation team. I later found out that as baby descended down the birth canal, her heart rate dropped dangerously low, and upon crowning it was even worse. In efforts to avoid making me panic, my midwife had kept this to herself (which I was grateful for) and urged me to push harder. We also discovered that baby was indeed posterior (which I had suspected all along. Everyone was amazed that I pushed her out as quickly as I did as posterior babies tend to be more difficult to get out) and had her cord wrapped around her neck and then around her right arm. She also had a considerable amount of meconium ingested that was suctioned out by the resuscitation team. With all of those factors, it is little wonder her heart rate dropped so low.

     I had a SUPER hard time waiting for them to bring me my baby for the first time. I understood that they needed to make sure that she was alright, and she was really only gone for a few minutes, but those few minutes broke my heart. I was crying pretty hard; because I had had a SECOND successful VBAC when doctors had previously told me I'd likely never have one, because I was so relieved it was all over and because my little girl was finally here and I couldn't yet hold her. After what felt like another eternity (which was only a few minutes), I got to hold my sweet babe for the first time. The tears started all over again.

     One look at her sweet face and we immediately knew her name: Jocelyn Nicole Palmer was born exactly on her due date on August 14, 2016 at 2:50am. She weighed 8 lbs 2 oz and was 19 inches long, our smallest baby yet. She had a head full of long dark hair and looked just like my newborn photos.

     All traces of fatigue and pain were gone as oxytocin filled my being and the room. I was suddenly filled with new energy and excitement again (labor and delivery does some weird things to your emotions I've decided) and couldn't stop gushing over my new baby and chatting happily away. While Katherine stitched me up (I had some labial tears) I got to cuddle my new baby skin-to-skin for the next hour or more. Much to my relief, within that hour Jocelyn latched right on and was a champ nurser and has been ever since. It was all so perfect.

                                                       

    

      

Tender Mercies

Last night I prayed that my children would not grow up without me, that I could have the ability to slow down and enjoy them and motherhood to its fullest. It was one of the most sincere and heartfelt prayers I have prayed in a while.

Last night was a rough night for Benjamin, and, consequently, Stephen and I. He woke all throughout the night and early morning crying many times. One particularly difficult time, I asked Stephen to bring Benjamin into bed with us. He gave me that face -that face I'm all too familiar with- that says, "Are you sure you want to do that? EVERY other time we've tried this we've ended up regretting it because the boys get excited and want to play for hours on end. Each time you suggest it you think 'this time it will be different' and it never is." I smiled that smile -the one that Stephen is all to familiar with- that says, "I know...but will you go get me my baby anyways?" Needless to say, Benjamin ended up curled into me in bed :D

Benjamin told us about a scary dream he had had involving some sort of car crash. It was sad and broke my heart. The three of us cuddled for a while, singing Primary songs, and then we put Benjamin back down successfully. As I thought about that moment, one that I loved so much and ate up, I realized that God had answered my prayer in a very simple, yet profound way for me. Instead of being frustrated and irritable with the situation, I was grateful for it and held on to it as long as I could.

When the sun was just beginning to rise the next morning, I again found myself in bed curled up with that blonde-haired, blue-eyed little boy who had just been crying. Stephen had gone off to work and Ian was still asleep, so it was just the two of us. Benjamin was a little bit more difficult to soothe this time, but I was still blessed with the ability to see the good and I'm so grateful for that. We again cuddled for a while, still groggy because we weren't ready to be awake after a rough night. I repeatedly sung Benjamin his favorite Primary song "When I am Baptized" (which, coincidentally, is also mine), mumbling a lot of the words sleepily. I had just finished the song the second time when Benjamin, suddenly energetic and excited, turned over and said, pointing to the wall, "Oh! There you are, Jesus!" Surprised, I asked Benjamin, "Where, sweetheart?" "Ober (over) there!" came the response with an enthusiastic point to the wall. I then asked him what Jesus was doing and he said, "Flying around!" For the next few minutes Benjamin kept pointing to that same wall exclaiming that Jesus was "Ober there!"

I don't know what Benjamin actually saw or what he actually experienced, or maybe if he was just responding to the Spirit he felt, but I do know that the veil is often not as thick as we think it is and sometimes Heavenly Father blesses us with special experiences just to let us know that He is there and that He loves us. I'm so grateful for the purity and the innocence of children and for the many things my boys teach me daily about Christ-like love

Rantings of a Misunderstood Mother

Disclaimer #1: In case the title of this post didn't do it justice, this post is a rant.

Multiple times this week Stephen and I found ourselves in a few different situations where we felt the need to defend our choices in raising our boys on a specific topic: sleep, bedtimes and naps.

Disclaimer #2: This is our/my blog and therefore this is my opinion. It doesn't make my views or my feelings about this the most correct or the least correct. It only means this is how I feel and view this specific topic. I truly believe that every decent parent is doing their very best in raising their children and are using methods that they believe are best for them and their situations and their families, even if those methods do not look like someone else's methods. That being said...

Sleep is very important to me, especially sleep for my children. I have done hours and hours of research and reading various articles and books and have picked from them things that resonated with me and my family. Likewise, I have also left behind those things that did not resonate with me. I think that this is a very important thing to be able to do in a world with so much conflicting information.

After having done this (and I continue to do this), I have formulated several beliefs that are firm for me:

• Adequate sleep is vital to the physical, emotional and behavioral development of children.
• Children thrive off of routine and fairly predictable schedules.
• Parents are the primary protector of their child's needs. Just because they are little doesn't make their needs less important than something else. If parent's don't protect their child's needs, who will?

Those who know me and our family well know that we have bedtimes and nap times that, for the most part, we stick to. We protect the needs of our children- yes, sometimes at the expense of a fun activity or gathering that we'd rather be participating in. But for us, that is what being a parent is all about: sacrificing for the well-being and betterment of our kids. Sometimes it is inconvenient, yes. But parenthood is not about conveniency.When we decided to be called mommy and daddy, we agreed to sacrifice parts of our single and free days to raise a family. We decided that that was more fulfilling and satisfying for us.

Now, does this mean that we never get to have fun and do things for ourselves? Does this mean that we as parents don't have a right to meet our own needs? Heavens no! We would likely be poor parents indeed if we didn't. Stephen and I have worked out a way to provide each other individually and ourselves as a couple relief and self care time on a very regular basis. It works for us. We are happy with how we do things and don't really feel like we miss out much at all, despite what others may think.

We hear lots of arguments about how we chose to do things, such as "But your kids will never learn how to be resilient!" or "But life doesn't always revolve around a schedule!" or "You guys are so uptight and strict!" I've heard it all. And quite frankly, I don't care what others think. I have seen WAY too much benefit from how we do things to be concerned about the misguided assumptions of others. There are PLENTY of other life situations that will help teach my children resiliency that I am not concerned about letting them have the comfort and predictability of knowing their needs for sleep will be met. No, life does not always work around a schedule, and my kids will learn that. But my job right now is to meet their needs in a loving and selfless way (and besides, it is my opinion that routine and predictability help with behavior which can, in turn, help with a happy and successful childhood). And yes, maybe we are sometimes uptight and strict, but that doesn't bother me either. When the occasion warrants it, we are actually pretty flexible. I just don't believe that EVERY occasion warrants it. It is my belief that there are important things and then there are MORE important things, and if a bedtime happens to be the lesser important thing (say, in the occasion of a wedding or other important family gathering), so be it! But not every late night or skipped nap warrants it for me.

So I guess what I'm really trying to say is that there is no one right or wrong way to parent, so we need to be a little bit more kind to each other. I'm not asking anyone to agree with me or someone else with whom they actually disagree with, but we can all be respectful and kind.

To the Women at Deseret Book

My boys slept in this morning, and I mean SLEPT IN. We are usually up and going around 7:30am each morning, but this morning Benjamin was up a quarter after 8 and Ian was out until 9:30. 9:30am!!!

It was some kind of miracle.

So, assuming that because they slept in so late they wouldn't want or need naps at their usual time at 12:30pm, I figured I had until at least 1:30pm to run errands and loaded us up in the car.

Never assume anything with toddlers. Ever.

Our first stop was Deseret Book. I normally hate shopping at Deseret Book alone with both boys because they don't have shopping carts and you can imagine what that is like with two toddlers. But I took a risk anyway because I was excited about my tentative purchases and thought the boys should be happy because they were just fed and well rested.

Ha.

It was a disaster. Benjamin immediately took off running down the isles of the store, ripping photos of Jesus off the racks and showing them to other kids in the store -kids who were staying obediently and quietly by their parents- exclaiming loudly, "Jesus!" Ian, who I had forgotten to put shoes on so I was holding, was wriggling violently, trying to get down to run around with his brother. He got really angry and started screaming loudly. So there I was, trying to keep a hold on Ian while quickly scanning the isles for Benjamin (while cleaning up the messes he left in his wake) and what I needed so we could get out quickly. Heads turned our direction and eyes stared; I wanted to disappear.

I continued frantically trying to hold it together, quiet Ian and get out as quickly as possible for another 5 minutes, which felt like 5 hours, when I noticed an older woman watching me. I was humiliated. I rushed passed her after Benjamin and mumbled an apology. Her big smile stopped me as I heard her say, "Don't be!" With a far-away dreamy look in her eyes, she then said, "This phase goes by too quickly you know. One day those babies will be gone, so enjoy every minute."

I was baffled.

I lost sight of Benjamin as we chatted for a minute and she offered me a few more words of encouragement. When I caught sight of Benjamin a ways across the store, I made to take off after him and that sweet woman called after me, "Now go! Enjoy it!"

As I was checking out, I had a still-screaming Ian in my arms and heard Benjamin knock over the container of wrapping paper behind me, sending rolls of it rolling everywhere. I was ready to cry. I tried to juggle Ian, Benjamin, making my payment and cleaning up the mess without much success.
There was a mother and her teenaged daughter behind me in line and I silently plead that they would help me. They didn't. They continued to watch what I'm sure looked like an irresponsible mother who couldn't control her children and hold herself and them together.

After my purchase was made, I scrambled to clean up Benjamin's mess when the cashier said kindly, "Ma'am, please don't worry about it. I've got it." Grateful for her kindness and relieved that we could get out of there I thanked her and turned around to leave. As I did so, I heard the mother and daughter behind me in line say, "Oh! I guess we could have helped..."

I learned three valuable lessons this day:

1. Young motherhood does indeed go by much too quickly, and I have two choices: One, to look back one day with regret, or two, look back one day with fondness. Life is messy, and life with two toddlers is especially messy. But those messes do not have to overwhelm the beauty of childhood or my ability to appreciate it to it's fullest.

2. Not everyone who watches you in your moments of frantic stress is judging harshly. Some might be silently praising you and encouraging you. Some might even be slightly envious. It's not fair to assume that everyone is being critical. There are still kind and generous people in this world. Humanity is not dead. Just as you hope people are not judging you and making assumptions about your life, don't make assumptions about theirs.

And 3. It is okay to need help, and it is equally okay to ask for it. We all need help at some point in our life or another. If you see someone struggling and you can offer help, offer it. Chances are they are silently pleading for it.

Now, that being said, I completely understand the occasional withholding of help. Maybe that mother and daughter behind me in line wanted to help, but didn't want to make me any more uncomfortable than I already was by drawing even more attention to me. Maybe they were worried about over-stepping bounds. I can't blame them, and I don't. But what I later realized is that most people want to help, but hesitate, unsure if help is wanted. Most people have an innate desire to help another with their load but are unsure how. This is why it is important to be able to ask for help when help is needed, even if a swallowing of pride or embarrassment is required. It's a balancing act. Don't wait until it is too late to offer help and don't be afraid to ask for help when help is needed. In either case, ACT.

So, to those women at Deseret Book today who taught me valuable lessons, thank you.

Ian Has Turned One!!!

So...this one is a little late. With all of the hub-bub of buying a home and moving, it kept getting put off. Here it is:

Ian had his first birthday on July 11th! We had a BBQ and water party at Grandma Duke's house that afternoon. There was a kiddie pool and slip n' slide for the littles, and visiting for the adults. We had grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends over and it was a lot of fun! I felt horrible though because I didn't have the time or the energy to put into Ian's first birthday party that I had put into Benjamin's first. Decorations were neglected, food was cheap and quick and the cake was not what I had wanted. Stephen had to keep reminding me that it was not a statement of my preference or love for one boy over the other, that Ian would not remember or care, and that we were still trying to recover from the stress of our house. The things I worry about sometimes...

My heart broke a little when we sang happy birthday to Ian for the first time; my baby was gone!

He would only eat cheetos for dinner. We eventually gave up the fight and let him. After all, he only turns one once, right?!

Unlike his brother, Ian loved smashing and eating his cake, though you wouldn't know it by his facial expressions.

Ian wasn't as interested in opening presents. He kept trying to run away with his favorite present; an orange ball from aunt Brooke.

To make things a little easier, aunt Brooke had also gotten Benjamin a ball. Bless her.

Some fun one-year facts about Ian:

• He started walking at 11 months old and has been trying to run to keep up with big brother since.

• Unlike Benjamin, he hates to play alone and is constantly seeking out companionship. Also unlike his brother, he LOVES to cuddle and that makes me happy.

• His favorite (and most used) word is "Yeeahhh!" He likes to use it whenever Benjamin asks him if he wants to play or go outside. Their little conversations make me smile :)

• He is a very serious boy, usually wearing a concentrated or concerned expression. He is likewise a lot more mellow than Benjamin, preferring to watch and see rather than do and explore.

• He is my carb baby, eating breads, crackers and cereal. He will gobble down fruits and vegetables in their pureed form, but not in their natural form. So he has texture issues.

•  He can sure hold his own! With a 2 year old for a big brother, Ian is often pushed around and taken advantage of. He has no problem, though, chasing Benjamin down to "get even." 

• Even if he is in a bad mood, the minute he hears music he is busting a move!

• His favorite pass-time is blowing raspberries to himself and laughing.

• He is a COMPLETE mama's boy, which I love. No matter where I go, I can always count on having a little tag-a-long blowing raspberries right behind me.

We are grateful every day that were blessed with this sweet little boy! Life would certainly be a little more gray without him. We love you, Ian Delaine!