5/52

'A portrait of our girls, once a week, every week, in 2014.'

Charleigh-girl: 'Fun' is an understatement when it comes to this child. It's the goal of her very life. 

Lo: Her turn to be sick. Inevitable when you share everything with your sister. She didn't even get to enjoy our little snowfall. Probably the only bit of winter we'll get this year. Like her sister, even with no voice and between coughs, she's 'pretty good.' The sweetest. 

Drew: Seven weeks old. One of the few times she's been in a real outfit instead of footie pajamas. Things are a bit different the second time around, eh?

a birth story {drew mclean}

Back when grabbing coffee with a friend didn't involve either tremendous amounts of scheduling and pumping or busy bags/coloring books/iPhones/leashes, a close friend of mine told me and my sister all about the birth of her first son. Not having had any children yet, I was intrigued but not in the 'I get teary eyed and goose bumps at any/every birth story I hear' way that I do now. She went into lots of detail about how he was early, the complications, the medical interventions, the doctors that didn't really listen to her, scary blood pressure issues, frustrations, pain, and everything else that could possibly go along with a birth. And then she sighed and declared, 'It was the best day of my life.' And my sister was like, 'Whoa. That sounds terrible.' But that's the thing about having a baby. It can be the worst experience but still be the best day of your life.

I didn't know what to expect with my second birth but I feel like we truly could not have asked for a more wonderful experience than the birth of sweet Baby Drew. To be honest, I was terrified at the thought of birthing this sweet child. With the girls, I felt like a lot of the factors leading up to my c-section were out of my hands. I didn't really have a choice. And I was open and comfortable with whatever we needed to do. But, with Drew, I had a choice and, for the life of me, I felt incapable of making it. I asked every doctor I saw what their thoughts were about a VBAC vs. a repeat cesarean. All but one were completely supportive either way. The exception told me in no uncertain terms that VBACS were too risky and worst case scenario, my uterus could rupture and burst into 'smithereens' and we both would die. Thanks. I know this is a true 'worst case scenario' but, for goodness sake, smithereens seems a little unnecessary to use with a patient. 

It's funny, that through my pregnancy with the girls there was always a certain amount of anxiety attached to it. So many more appointments, ultrasounds, and non-stress tests. I quite literally held my breath at each appointment just praying that there were still two healthy heartbeats. Even though I always felt movement and generally knew which baby was moving when, I still worried that something might go wrong. My pregnancy with Drew was completely different. I felt her move and knew everything was fine. I didn't count down the days until my next appointment so I could be reassured. But what I lacked in anxiety during the pregnancy I made up for thinking about the method she would be delivered. 

In my heart, I wanted to VBAC so badly but I also knew the risks and the possibility that I would not be able to. Once again, I started to prepare myself to be open to either scenario. In fact, because she was measuring so large at her last ultrasound, we scheduled a c-section with my doctor for December 17--four days after my due date. My doctor, who was extremely supportive of my desire for a VBAC, felt that if we made it that long she would be way too big for me to deliver safely. Thus, began, Operation Have this Baby before She Reaches Nine Pounds. At my last appointment, the doctor I saw very reassuringly informed me that she was indeed very big and my pelvic bones were indeed very narrow. Yikes. I just prayed that she would come on her own before the 17th. 

I started feeling 'off' on Sunday the 8th and thought I might be going into labor but then felt better most of the day on Monday. Paul took off work and nothing happened. He fixed a leaky toilet and played with the girls and helped me finish a few last minute things. But no labor. Around 5:00 I started to feel real contractions. My mom came by and we ate dinner and finished packing our bags. Around 7:00, my contractions were close enough that I felt we could start heading to the hospital. I spoke with the doctor on call and she said to come in. I kissed the girls goodbye, telling them I'd bring home a baby, and had a strange moment of sadness that it was the last time it would be just us. Paul and I stopped at Target on the way to get a a gift for the girls for when they came to meet Drew. {Turns out a puzzle doesn't hold a candle to a new baby and was completely unnecessary. Noted.}

The rest seems fast and slow, all at the same time. 

Last belly picture. Actually probably only the 5th or so belly picture in existence of this pregnancy.  And I'm not sure why I'm posing all sassy.  I did not feel sassy. 

8:00ish Triaged at 3 centimeters and told to walk, walk, walk. The doctor on call needed to make sure that I was really in labor before she would admit me. She was much more liberal than many of the doctors concerning VBACS. She would even give a VBAC patient pitocin if needed whereas none of the other doctors would. But she knew the doctor coming on in the morning was much more conservative and wouldn't allow a VBAC patient to labor or push as long as some of the others. She wanted me to be well on my way to having this baby before she left. I mentioned my 'narrow' pelvis and she laughed and said, 'Oh, he tells everyone that. You'll be fine.' P-dubs and I walked for an hour or so and when I was checked again at 5 cm, I was admitted. Praise the Lord. 

Walking the halls with the most supportive man I could have asked for. Such a trooper. 

10:30-3:30 I labored with the little monitor attached to me and Paul so I wouldn't have to be stuck in bed. At first, the doctor recommended I not get an epidural because it could slow labor way down. We had never really discussed if I wanted an epidural or not and I had taken a 'wait and see' approach to this part of labor as well. (I take that approach to a lot of things, apparently.) At one point, the doctor told the nurse she hadn't seen control through contractions like that in a long time. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad sign. 

 At 3:30, I was 8 and 1/2 cm and Paul and I were both falling asleep between contractions. And, my stars, were they intense and close together. I was exhausted. I never made any noise but, honestly, the last three contractions I felt like I might die. {I'm not dramatic at all, right?} The doctor came in and in between contractions told me that she would be happy if I got the epidural and she would be happy if I didn't. But she told me to keep in mind that, with the size of the baby and the fact that it was my first time delivering vaginally, I could be pushing for up to three hours. Paul thought I should get the epidural. At that point, with the thought of Dr. More Conservative coming on, I felt like I needed to conserve my energy to be able to push more effectively. {I might have just been justifying things to myself because whoa p.a.i.n.}

3:30 I got the epidural and after a few more contractions felt nothing. I kid you not, craziest thing ever. I could still tell when I was contracting and could still move my legs a little but every bit of pain was gone. {Side note: this anesthesiologist was not nearly as kind and jovial as the one in the OR for the girls' birth.}  My heart rate went down when they gave it to me and they had to give me something to bring it back up. Which meant in the next few hours while Paul slumbered oh so peacefully (not really)on that little husband-couch-bed, I sat there completely wired and unable to sleep. And my phone was out of reach. Darn it. 

6:45 The doctor came in to check me one last time and my water broke when she checked me. I was 10 centimeters. 

7:15  Dr. More Conservative came in to check me and I realized he may not be as conservative as she was letting on. 

8:15ish  I started pushing with just the nurse and Paul. She commented that the baby for sure had a lot of hair. {At our last ultrasound, Drew kept hiding her face and the only picture we have from that one is a white-ish outline of her head labeled 'hair.' Very fitting.} After a couple pushes the nurse called for the doctor. Apparently, I am a pretty good pusher. Even with an epidural, though, pushing is no joke. 

9:07 One last push, and she was here. All 8 pounds 4 ounces of her. A true answer to so many prayers. When the doctor held her up she looked so big. And healthy.  Love at first sight doesn't really describe it. Because I loved her before I knew her. 

But, oh man, she looked so different from the rest of us. She didn't look like anyone at first and then slowly we saw bits and pieces of her sisters in her expressions and movements. I did know she didn't look like a Quinn (my choice) or a Harper (Paul's choice). Thus began her first day on the outside... as a tiny, nameless person. My mom was beside herself about this. 

The next two days were filled with flurries of activity where visitors and nurses were in and out, along with stretches of truly peaceful and rest-filled times. The girls were healthy when they were born but because they were so small (and there were two of them) we were interrupted much more often by nurses and lactation consultants. The lactation consultant came in a couple times but this girl took after Charleigh Grace and nursed like a pro. She was a dream baby. 

When the girls came to meet her, I made sure I wasn't holding the baby and was ready to give them my full attention. I'd heard that was important for some older siblings to make them feel reassured and such. Oh, but they gave me a sideways glance and a quiet 'hi, mama' as they searched the room for the new baby, asking for her instead of me. They were in awe and they loved her fiercely from the second they saw her. Lo cried when they left with my mom and sister because she wanted to take the baby with her. 

First bath. 

Clearly traumatic. 

This is the part where the nurse asks a woman who literally just delivered a baby how many more she thinks she will have. To which, my husband (undoubtedly on some sort of newborn baby high) answered 'As many as God gives us.'  And then I felt the need to clarify that we are not the Duggars. 

First manicure. Child came out with some long nails. 

Pizza and watching their favorite Christmas movie, Jingle and Bell.

...still watching ...

Still watching...shoulda turned that sucker off. 

She didn't stay nameless. She became Drew McLean Minor and it seems like, somehow, she's always been here. 

4/52

'A portrait of our girls once a week, every week, in 2014.'

Lolly: Some moments, this girl is the chattiest and silliest. Others, she's thinking so hard that you can tell she hasn't the slightest idea there's a world going on around her. 

Charleigh Grace: This girl is almost always only quiet if she's eating a snack. Hair bows and dirty fingernails. Our beautiful mess. 

Drew: Six weeks old. Still not bigger than Lambie. 

second pregnancy {faq}

I started writing this back when I was pregnant and never got around to finishing or posting it. Surprise, surprise. Since then, I've been busy snuggling a very cuddly newborn and I haven't been able to bring myself to put her down to do things like write blog posts. As it should be, I think. But I felt like maybe I should finish it. Because, first of all, I wrote a lot more about my pregnancy with the girls and we don't need Drew growing up having any complexes because of that. {Kidding.} And, secondly, our friend Heather of Heather Fink Photography took some wonderful pictures before she was born and they'll most likely never be shared anywhere else because I'm terrible at Facebooking/Instagramming/blogging/allthingssocialmedia. I'm working on Drew's birth story so in the meantime here are some questions I was asked a bunch about my second pregnancy.

-Was this pregnancy a surprise?
 For some reason a lot of people assume she was a surprise. Or maybe they're hoping she was so they can still justify that we're somewhat sane. Because what kind of people get pregnant when their twins are 17 months old?! {I felt this sentiment strongly when we were flying back from NH and I stood in the aisle balancing a sobbing Charleigh on my belly while I could practically hear travelers nearby saying, Someone get that girl birth control.} 

The answer to this question is yes and no. Paul and I knew we wanted more kids. We just didn't feel like we were all here yet. So we hoped we would be able to get pregnant again at some point. I was going to discuss possibilities with my doctor but we were pretty sure we wouldn't be doing Clomid again. I actually had my yearly appointment with my ObGyn scheduled for the week after I found out I was pregnant. When people ask us if she was a surprise, Paul always says no because we were hoping for her. I always say yes because I was nervous to be too hopeful. I was certain we were going to need some sort of medical intervention again to get pregnant. But, surprise, we didnt!

-Were you taking Clomid again? Nope. See above. 

-Is there just one in there? Yup. But she was b.i.g.

 

-How did you know you were pregnant? 
I was still nursing the girls and wasn't on any type of normal or predictable schedule as far as {ahem} fertility stuff goes. So I actually didn't know I was pregnant until I was about 7 weeks along. I remember going to swimming lessons with the girls and feeling so off all day. My mom and I went through the Starbucks drive-thru and I just didn't feel like anything. But I did feel like a Chic Fil A ice cream cone. So random.  The next morning I went to make coffee and just the smell sent a wave of nausea over me...exactly like I felt when I was pregnant with the girls. I knew that very second I was pregnant. Later that day, I got a couple pregnancy tests and, lo and behold, I was right.

-How is being pregnant with one baby different from being pregnant with twins?
Everyone told me being pregnant with one would be so much easier. My doctor told me it would be a piece of cake and I wouldn't be as sick because there wouldn't be as many hormones, etc. But honestly, my pregnancies were almost exactly the same until about the 33rd or 34th week. I had the same amount of morning sickness {Meaning, I felt like I might die until 13 weeks.} I started showing at about the same time. I craved the same things.
My pregnancy with the girls was honestly so great and this one was the same. 

But at about 33 weeks I was in so much pain. I felt like I did right before I went into labor with the girls. My incision from their c-section was killing me and I wondered if that was a sign that a VBAC wasn't for us. I couldn't pick up the girls and could hardly walk. By my next appointment, the pain had subsided some and the doctor reassured me that it was just the baby settling down where she should be. After that, I started feeling better and was, thankfully, able to function again like a normal human being. Then, I felt huge. But not huge like I was with the girls. And I wasn't swollen like I was with the girls, either. {Meaning, I could wear real shoes. Unlike with the girls, where I wore slippers to my place of employment.}

I taught right up until the day before I went into labor with the girls and I honestly think the end of this pregnancy was more difficult. Maybe because I was wrangling two small children all day, everyday. {Granted, I kept track of 23 small children during my first pregnancy but I didn't have to pick any of them up. Or get up and down 83 times a day to get them a snack. I just rolled from place to place in my classroom on my roll-y chair. Much, much easier.}

-Are the girls excited/do they know what's going on? 

I don't think the girls had the faintest understanding of what was really happening. Pregnancy is a concept lost on many an adolescent. So I'm pretty sure it's a concept a two-year-old might find confusing. If you asked them where the baby was, they would point to my belly and would even kiss it. If you asked them if they wanted a new sister, they would look at each other and then say, 'no' with a look as if to say, 'I already have my sister.' But, I can tell you, that once she was here, excited would be an understatement.

-Cravings? 
First trimester, oranges and orange juice. And about the only other thing I could stomach was cereal. I ate A LOT of cereal. I would eat three bowls before bed (this little habit continued until Drew was born, actually) and then would wake up nauseous in the middle of the night and eat another. During the heat of the summer, I went through a very cliche pickle phase. And in the last trimester I craved the Chobani key lime flips yogurt. So good.

Ultimately, I was blessed with a truly wonderful pregnancy and an extremely supportive and helpful family. Trying to take care of twins when you can barely stand to even open the fridge without getting sick is no joke. My husband, mom, mother-in-law, and sister all helped out so much. They loved this tiny girl right along with me, long before she was born. 

3/52

'A portrait of my daughters, once a week, every week, in 2014.'

Lola: The ultimate big sister. She loves her fiercely. At least once a day she says, 'Mama, mama, watch, watch.' And makes sure I'm looking as she gives her baby a kiss on her head. 

Charleigh Girl: Sick tears. This girl is still sweet though. Even when she is sick. I ask her how she's feeling when I get her up from her nap, and through sniffles and tears and with barely a voice, she always says, 'Pretty good. I good.'

Drew: Five weeks old at her one month check up. She's textbook, the doctor tells me. Sheer baby perfection in a a 9 pound, 1 ounce body.