Monday, November 28, 2011

The Birth of Robert "Bobby" Jacob Stenzel

My doula, Laura, suggested I write down Bobby's birth story, not only to record it but also to help complete Patrick's story and the journey I took to get there.

With Bobby, I had a much more laissez-fair approach to childbirth.  I read the standard pregnancy books, but nothing that focused on childbirth.  I knew I wanted drugs and figured that I didn't need coaching...women have been birthing babies forever- I didn't need to take a class to learn how.  I used an OB practice that had 6 physicians and used one throughout my entire pregnancy until the last month or so when he recommended that I visit with the other doctors in case one of them ended up delivering us.  At my 40 week appointment, I casually mentioned to the doctor I was seeing (not my own) that I was considering an induction if Bobby hadn't made his appearance by his due date.  She immediately scheduled me for September 8, 2008- four days after my due date.

I remember talking to my sister a few days prior to my induction.  She said to me, " well, I guess that means that you'll be a mom by Monday".  I hadn't thought of it that way and honestly, it freaked me out a little.

My induction was scheduled for 7:30 am Monday morning.  Jacob and I got up, I took a shower and did my hair and make-up and we headed  to the hospital.  When we got there, I changed into a gown and was hooked up to the monitor and given an IV with a Pitocin drip.  The doctor on call from my practice was not my doctor, but it was okay since I only saw him maybe 3 times throughout my entire labor.  I labored for a little bit but the contractions quickly became painful.  I got up to use the restroom and as I was walking back to the bed (with Jacob's assistance), my water broke.  Once I got back to the bed, I knew I would need an epidural so the anethesiologist was called and the drugs were quickly and uneventfully administered.  I continued to labor.  I honestly don't remember much.  I was put on oxygen at one point and made to lay on my side.  Bobby wasn't doing well either.  At about 5:15-5:30pm, the doctor recommended a c-section.  He said, "we can do one now before it's an emergency or we can wait until it is one".  We agreed.  How could we not when given those options?

I was taken into the operating room and Jacob was told to wait.  They almost forgot about him but thankfully he found us.  The anesthesiologist administered more pain medication and they began the procedure.  At 5:58pm, Bobby was born.   The doctors held him up above the curtain so I could see him and then began weighing, measuring, and cleaning him up.  Jacob stood next to me the whole time, holding my hand. We were both crying.  The epidural made it feel like I couldn't breathe, but I was told that it was a common feeling, I was actually breathing.  They started to take Bobby to the nursery.  I made Jacob go.  He didn't want to- he didn't want to leave me by myself, but I didn't want Bobby to be alone.  He was so small, he needed his daddy.  So Jacob went with him - he was the first of us to hold him.
Proud Papa

I was taken to recovery, where my mom and my mother in law came to see me.  Finally, Bobby was brought to me and I was able to hold him for the first time.  He was so small, so new, so perfect.

My life started that day. Our life. This wonderful, crazy, fun filled, exhausting life that I love so much.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

A surprising thanks.

What a Thanksgiving week.  In retrospect, losing my job was a great thing especially considering all that I had to do this week. And surprisingly, none of it involved cooking! My sister came into town and with her the whirlwind that is her existence when she visits. She always tries to cram as many things as possible into her two regularly scheduled visits home (the other being 4th of July) and I have usually been able to bow out gracefully, spouting reasons of work and family pressures.

Not this time.

I was available full force and it was great.  It was my first (full) week as a Stay At Home Mom. At first, I was worried since Bobby would be out of school for the holiday- what would we do all week?  How can I keep us all from going crazy?

Enter- the whirlwind of the Goodsole family. All 5. My dear sister, Maggie and her husband Geoff, and their three children , Joshua- 12, Kathleen - 2.5, and Leighton -1 year.

It's funny how relationships change.  My sister and I used to fight  ALL.THE.TIME.  About everything, anything.  It's amazing what motherhood does, it soothes all past arguments- we are now joined together in solidarity in being a mother, a friend,a sister- someone who can relate - and considering we have both had 2 children in the past 3 years (both sets are 4 months and 4 days apart- how weird is that?) we are both going through similar changes in behavior and use each other as sounding boards on how to better discipline and parent our unruly  strong willed children. 

So this week of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for losing my job so that I was able to spend all the time I could with my sister and her children, and that my boys were able to play (and fight) with their cousins. That's what Thanksgiving is all about, right?

Sunday, November 20, 2011

And it begins...

The holidays are upon us and with that means my home is about to get turned upside down for the next 2 months or so. As much as I enjoy the end of year festivities-- family get togethers, gift- giving, craft making, cookie baking.. part of me just wishes that it wasn't all necessary.  But then I see the look on my Bobby's face as I tell him about Santa and I know why I do it.  It's for him.  So that he grows up with the sense of wonder and merriment about holidays that a person carries throughout their life.

I'm big about tradition.  I want my boys to grow up having certain things happen every year. Thiings they can track and remember and hopefully carry on with their families.

I haven't carried on much from my childhood.  Mainly because some of the most memorable things were specific to my childhood of a child from a divorced family.  Like, we always went to my mom's on Christmas Eve - where Santa stopped by early since he knew that we lived with my dad.   and then drove through the neighborhood lights.  The neighborhood we grew up in always ( and still does- my dad still lives there) lined the streets with luminaries to guide Santa to our homes.  When we got home, we were allowed to open ONE present.  And it was new jammies - Christmas themed- to wear to bed (and for the next morning- of course).

Now, unless I can get my insta-neighborhood of over 400 homes to start the luminaries- I'm  out of luck on that one.  And with 3 different sets of grandparents all within driving distance- there is no telling where we will be driving from on Christmas Eve. BUT my kids will always wake up in their own home on Christmas morning.  My in-laws have asked us to stay with them every year since Bobby was born, but I won't do it.  I can't.  To me- it would break the magic of Santa - having the stocking- putting out the cookies.  and jammies- Christmas jammies- if only he liked to wear them.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Real Life

I lost my job today. 
It wasn't a glamorous one.  It didn't pay extremely well. But I liked it.  I met a lot of really good people. People who cared and who were fun to talk to.  I made life long friends.

 I did a good job. I worked hard. at least I thought I did.  

oh well.

I wasn't happy anyway.  I wasn't doing what I wanted to do.

So I have a chance now to do what I want. 

which is what?

The majority of my closest frieds have dreams, some of them lifelong, some of them recently realized.  One decided to become a lawyer, so she did and preceeded in kicking ass and killing it in law school so that she was hired before she knew if she had passed the bar.  Another wanted to be an archelologist, so she is. And another, that wanted to see the world so she took a job in Africa for 2 years. and another is fulfilling her lifelong dream of being a rock star. for realz.

recently I saw one of those shared pictures on facebook with an inspiring quote.  The one by John Lennon.

When I was 5 years old, my mom told me that happiness was the key to life.
When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I
wrote down “happy”. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment. I told
them they didn’t understand life.

This is how I have always wanted my life to be. Happy.  Now I have a chance to do something so that I am doing what I love.  I don't HAVE to work to to make it so ends meet. 

So now I begin a new chapter. A new part of my life where I find out what it is I really want to be when I grow up!

Here we go!

Popular Posts