Two weeks ago yesterday, just after 5:00 in the morning, we brought our sweet Annie Kate into the world. Born at 35 weeks, 4 days gestation, she weighed 5 pounds, 7 ounces, and measured 18 ¾ inches long. 

Annie’s arrival was unexpected. We were planning an induction at 37 weeks because my blood pressure had become a little unpredictable. I had been dealing with hypertension throughout the entire pregnancy, in addition to gestational diabetes, advanced maternal age (eye roll), and my history of preterm labor. Because of those risk factors, my pregnancy required a lot of appointments, ultrasounds, and twice-weekly non-stress tests among other monitoring. My last two pregnancies prior to this one were also considered high risk, but the hypertension was a new issue this time around.

On November 17, I was at a “Friendsgiving” lunch with dear friends. I felt totally fine, but I happened to glance down at my feet, and they were very swollen. Swelling was not normal for me, and with my high blood pressure, I knew that I probably needed to keep a close eye on things. When I got home, I had Luke check my blood pressure, and it was running high. We checked it a few times over the course of an hour, and it kept getting higher. When it reached about 175/100, we knew we needed to go to the hospital and see what was going on. 

This is not a good sign, just FYI.

When we arrived at the hospital, neither one of us were planning on staying longer than a couple hours. We didn’t even bring our bags. I think we thought I would get some IV medicine and be sent home. However, when my blood pressure reached nearly 200/100, we were given the news that we weren’t quite ready for — we were going to be induced that night. 

This created quite a panic in me. I found myself extremely emotional. All of a sudden, I felt very worried and my mind was racing. Was she big enough? Were her lungs developed enough? Would she be OK? Would I be OK? I thought of the other kids and how I didn’t get to spend quality time with them that day. I wanted one more special day and night with Leo as my baby, and now we wouldn’t have that chance. 

Once I was able to calm down, Luke ran home to tuck the kids in bed and get our bags. During that time, they started me on magnesium. Anyone who has experienced IV magnesium knows how terrible it is. Instantly, I was overheating and sweating profusely. The room temperature was set on 55 degrees, and it still felt too hot. Magnesium is supposed to prevent seizures when you have high blood pressure. It also relaxes your whole body, which means you can’t get out of bed. Because you can’t get out of bed, you are catheterized (the worst). Also, to avoid blood clots in your legs, you have to wear the sequential compression sleeves (SCD) around your calves. With the blood pressure cuff on my arm and the SCD machine on my legs, I felt shackled to the bed. This was certainly not the way I had envisioned my labor experience. 

Me, trying to put on a brave face as we began the induction process.

When Luke returned, they started pitocin. I hadn’t had pitocin since I was in labor with Noelle, and I just remember screaming for the epidural 5 minutes after it was administered. I hadn’t yet made up my mind about an epidural this time. I always try to take it one contraction at a time and see how I feel. I do have a history of very quick labors, so I can’t wait too long or an epidural simply won’t be an option. I was worried that having pitocin was going to force me into getting an epidural, but I decided to see how things went before making a decision. 

Because the magnesium relaxes your muscles and the pitocin contracts them, the two medicines work against each other. I progressed a little slower than normal, but the contractions also didn’t really hurt that bad. When I would have a contraction, I actually prayed the Hail Mary, which timed out perfectly. As soon as the prayer was done, the contraction was over, and I felt very calm. At about 1:00 in the morning, I turned on some of my favorite music and let it play on repeat, and I slept for about 3 hours. 

At about 4:30 in the morning, my doctor came in and checked the progress. I was dilated to 4 cm, which is extremely slow for me. In fact, I have never even gone to the hospital at less than 7 cm for any of my other deliveries. We decided to go ahead and break my water to see if that would speed things along. With Leo and Shiloh, they were born literally minutes after my water was broken, so I knew it would definitely get things going. 

Here’s where the fun begins. My water was broken a little before 5:00 a.m. I was 4 cm dilated. Annie’s official time of birth was 5:09 a.m. 

You do the math. 

Yes, I went from 4 to 10 cm and birthed a child in about 9 minutes. The contractions became extremely intense within seconds of my water breaking. I tried to keep my cool and breathe through them, but I knew this was some next level stuff. To my knowledge, I was still at 4 cm, so I was worried about enduring hours of this pain. Also, keep in mind I was literally strapped to a bed and not allowed to stand, walk, sit on a bouncy ball, or really change position at all. This was not good for pain management. I told Luke I needed an epidural, but then shortly after, I felt a wave of nausea. I knew from reading about childbirth that sometimes when you feel like you are going to throw up, that means the baby is getting ready to be born. I told Luke to get my doctor because I was ready to have the baby. He didn’t quite believe me, but he got her to come in the room anyway. 

Sure enough, it was time to go, and within minutes (probably seconds), Annie Kate was born. 

The NICU team was in the room for her delivery because they knew she might need some assistance. It is equal parts reassuring and scary when you have several extra nurses and medical staff within arm’s reach in a delivery. I knew why they were there, and that was comforting, but it also reminded me that we could have a baby who might not be able to breathe very well or who might need a medical intervention. 

When Annie was laid on my belly after she was born, she didn’t make a sound. I could tell that her color looked good, but I longed to hear that cry. She was in a little bit of shock from the quick delivery. They were rubbing her down and stimulating her, but she wasn’t really responding much. The NICU team began suctioning out the extra fluid and gunk from her mouth, and finally after what felt like an hour (but was probably just a few minutes), I heard her make some noises. 

They held her up so I could see her, and I was overwhelmed by her beauty and by how tiny she was. Our smallest baby before Annie was Shiloh who weighed 6 pounds, 5 ounces. Annie weighed nearly a whole pound less than that. She was so dainty and sweet, and I couldn’t wait to hold her. 

I was allowed to hold Annie for a few minutes before they took her to the NICU for further evaluation. She looked so much like her big sister, Charlotte, complete with light brown, almost blonde hair. This made me so excited because Charlotte had been praying for a sister who “looked like her” since she is our only blonde child. 

Luke went to be with Annie while I began the recovery process. I was still going to be on magnesium for 24 hours following Annie’s birth, which made me sad because the best part of not having an epidural is the way you can just get up and “return to normal” immediately following delivery. I was still catheterized and not allowed to stand or walk, which was frustrating because I wanted to literally run to the NICU to be with my baby.

Initially, we didn’t realize how long Annie would be in the NICU. We thought maybe she would be there for a few hours, or maybe even 1-2 days, but we were told she would at least be there until she reached 36 weeks gestation, which was 4 days away at that point. In my mind, I was thinking that 36 weeks would be the magic number, and she would go home on that day, but unfortunately, I was wrong. 

All in all, Annie spent 9 full days in the NICU and was released when she was 10 days old. I am going to write about her time in the NICU soon. Nine days is not long in the grand scheme of things, but those 9 days might turn out to be the most transformative days of my life. 

Annie is our 5th child (4th baby girl), and we are just as enamored by her and this newborn stage as we have been with each of our older children. It just can never, and will never, get old… the snuggles, the new baby smell, the sounds newborns make, the way you are their entire world, and the way they are yours.

We are so thankful to experience this miracle again.

We are on the final countdown before our new baby girl arrives. In just a couple short weeks, everything will be so different around here. 

We’ve done this before. We’ve welcomed home four babies already — navigating that delicate shift from “Baby of the Family” to “Big Sister.”

And now it’s Big Brother’s turn.

For the past two and a half years, we have enjoyed our time with Leo as the youngest child. He has been the most wonderful little guy. 

I, especially, have had the pleasure of spending lots of quality time with Leo over the past couple of years. Leo is the first child of ours who hasn’t experienced me working outside the home in any capacity. This has created a lot of opportunities for us to be together — and even though I occasionally miss and long for a “purpose” other than motherhood, I know that this time I have spent with him has been invaluable and good for both of our souls.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little anxious about how Leo will adapt to a new baby in the family. When I hold other people’s babies, he isn’t a huge fan, so it will be interesting to see if he has the same reaction when his baby sister is born. 

Over the past few weeks, I have been really trying to soak him up… to drink him in… to observe his features and mannerisms… to record the sound of his voice in my mind. I know that once the new baby arrives, the time will pass in a blur. Days and nights will mesh together, fatigue and hormones will create a messy mix of emotions, and I will likely have to transfer the care of the older kids to their dad and any other willing helpers. 

Still, Leo will need me…and still, I will be there… but still, it will be different.

It’s an odd feeling — this feeling of overwhelming excitement as we prepare to bring new life into this world mixed with this feeling of overwhelming sadness that things will never again be the same. 

So for now, I am doing my best to appreciate the small moments with Leo. The way he wants to “duggle” (snuggle) in my bed. The way he wants to share his food with me by forcefully shoving bites in my mouth. The way he says “thank you, Mama” and “I love you, Mama” unprompted. 

The way he enjoys looking out his bedroom window at all the nature outside. The way he insists on wearing his underwear over the top of his diaper. The way his toenails are always dirty, no matter how many times he takes bath. The way he can’t go anywhere or do anything without his paci and his bunny. 

Leo, it’s been a true gift to spend nearly every one of your days with you since you were born…giving you so much of my undivided attention and love. As we prepare to welcome your baby sister to our family, please know that my mother’s love for my children can never be divided, only multiplied.

Five years ago today– actually, five years ago this morning before 7 am, we added our third baby girl to the family. 

Shiloh Frances is now “a whole hand” old.

There’s something about a kid who turns five. Somehow, it just seems so much older than four. Maybe it’s because she’s that much closer to going to Kindergarten. Or maybe it’s because she can now say (nearly) all of her words correctly without a cute little lisp or mispronunciation. Or maybe it’s because she does more on her own than she does with my help.

Regardless, it just seems like she’s growing up too quickly. 

I would be lying if I said I didn’t carry with me some “third child guilt.” Shiloh is the third girl in a row. Immediately following her is our baby boy, Leo, who gets a lot of attention because, well, he’s a boy. He’s my boy. 

Shiloh gets all the hand-me-downs. It’s rare if something she wears is new or purchased specially for her. She’s too little to be big and too big to be little. She desperately wants to be on the level of her older sisters, but at the same time, she still wants to be my baby. 

Caught in between, she is about to be the true middle of the family– the third born of five children. 

I think about if she and our newest, youngest baby girl will be able to closely bond despite their five year age gap. I hope and pray that Shiloh doesn’t feel replaced or upstaged by the baby or overshadowed and eclipsed by the older two. 

I have these worries, but then I take one look at that feisty little package, and I remember who I am talking about. 

This kid is so unique…so spunky…so herself. She will make her own way. She will be just fine, no matter what.

A whole hand old today.

And her whole hand still fits in my whole hand — which means she’s still the baby girl for a little while longer.

July 6th.

July 6th was the last time I sat down to write. 

And before then, it was March 26th.

It’s not for lack of feelings, or lack of words, or lack of motivation, or lack of desire. 

It’s for lack of faith in myself. 

You see, writing is important to me, and I know it is important to me because every time I want to do it, the enemy tells me not to. That’s how you know what you’re doing is good – good for you or good for others or both. The enemy doesn’t want good and will try to stop you every. single. time. 

But today, I am powering through, because today is a special day. Today, my Charlotte is 7 years old.

This child – so unique in our family, not only in her looks but in her personality. It is truly amazing when you have 4, soon to be 5 children, all born from the same parents, and they can all have such individuality. 

On the surface, Charlotte is quiet. She doesn’t fight for attention. She finds her own way of receiving it, whether it be sneaking in extra snuggles by repeatedly coming out of her bedroom at night, or mysteriously hopping onto the counter while I prepare dinner, or somehow always negotiating an extra story, even when the parents are exhausted and half asleep already.

She just has a way. 

She’s unassuming, but she’s brilliant. She has an affinity for math and numbers. She likes to make lists. She likes to know “how many days until.” 

She’s dainty, but she’s strong. It’s hard to imagine that the little fairy legs she has now were once disguised in pudgy leg rolls. She likes to run, and she’s fast. 

She’s polite, but she’s funny. She has a quirky sense of humor. She speaks in funny voices and keeps us all laughing. 

She’s soon going to be the 2nd born of 5, which doesn’t exactly make her “the middle,” but it seems she will always have that title. It’s fitting though — all the good stuff in life you can find in the middle. The cream in the Oreo. The PB&J in the sandwich. The pages in the book. 

Today may be Charlotte’s birthday, but God gives us the gift of life each morning we wake up. 

It feels like my birthday, too.