Of Closing Eyes And Resting Head

This guy slept through the night last night!

We've been working to switch his schedule to being up during the day, and it was been heading that way but slowly. Then last night we put him down at 9, he was up from 2:30-3 to nurse, and then didn't get up again until 5:30! I call that a major success! Obviously growth spurts and things will likely send this on its head before too long but for now I will take it with open arms! Hopefully tonight I will be able to enjoy it instead of hovering over him wondering if something is wrong! :)

On a more personal note, last night I had a mini break down because I realized how much I have missed my husband over the last three weeks since Oliver was born. That seems odd since Austin took a week off of work AND was allowed to work from home for two weeks. This week is actually the first week he's gone back to the office. However, we have had a lot of company helping us with the baby, and our focus has been entirely on him. I am so grateful for this little boy, but I really love time to focus on my husband. I realize now I'm grateful to have that kind of problem, since I know a lot of relationships struggle after a baby is born. As for me, I have never been more in love with my other half. He's been so supportive and sweet through everything, and each moment with him is a gift.

This is me not caring about being sappy. End scene.

Two Weeks

Oliver is two weeks old! He weighs a whopping 7 lbs 8 oz, which is significant coming from his birth weight of 6 lbs 11 oz. It has been so fun to watch him start to fill out and get more acquainted with his budding personality.

The primary purpose of this post is to update everyone with some of our favorite pictures from the last two weeks! I sure do love this little face. We are doing really well.

Little bear on the way home from the birth center

With daddy

Late nights with this guy

The pediatrician gave us the go ahead to introduce a pacifier even though I'm breastfeeding since he has been gaining weight so well. He clutches 

One of Oliver's signature faces

Austin has been adjusting to the new sleep schedule like a champ :)

Oliver

Flashbacks of my labor and delivery have haunted me this week as I've had the privilege to hold my healthy baby boy. The details are surreal and painful to recall, but I would be foolish to abstain from recording them, as to me the details are unmistakable evidence of a higher power, as well as the reality and viability of a woman's natural instinct.

Beginning

On Monday night I remember texting my dad telling him that as the due date was passing with no baby it felt like everyone forgetting your birthday. I hadn't had any real contractions, and Austin and I were getting ready for bed, mentally preparing to wait a week or more for this baby to arrive. Suddenly around 11pm, my first contraction began and it was strong. At the time, I was unaware that delivery would take place within the next three hours.

There are three emotional signposts of labor:

1. Excitement as the realization sets in that your baby is coming!

2. Seriousness as you buckle down to work

3. Self-doubt. Is this really something your body can handle? This signpost should indicate to anyone helping the mother that the end of labor is near.

Looking back, it is obvious that I completely skipped the first emotional signpost, and half of the second. My contractions started at 5 minutes apart.

Austin and I worked through 8 or 9 contractions at first, breathing and trying to relax through them, still unsure if this was really happening. It seemed too fast! We called the midwife and alerted her, and then Austin helped me take a shower and get ready to go. We were supposed to leave when contractions were 4 minutes apart, a minute long, and had been that way for an hour.

When I got out of the shower, my contractions skipped to 3 minutes apart. After a few minutes, I hit what is known as "transition," threw up, and suddenly found myself in the third emotional signpost. We realized we really should have already been on the road, and I worked through more contractions on my own on my hands and knees as Austin got our bags in the car.

The Car

We have a little Mazda 2, and I was really not happy about the idea of working through any contractions inside of it. Having space and leverage to adjust and move through each contraction was the only thing keeping me stable. I decided to kneel on the floor facing the back seat while Austin drove. We had grabbed some bath towels on the way out, and I gripped one as the contractions became more and more intense on the road while Austin sped. I tried to relax in between each. Austin kept the AC pumping and blared various Ludovico Eunadi tracks that we had prepared for the birth center.

By now, my sense of time was completely nonexistent. I know now that my time in the car was around 25 minutes total. My water broke, but I was in a sleeping gown so I was still able to remove my underwear quickly before the next contraction. As the pain increased I tried to feel to see if the baby was crowning, but was shocked to feel 10 tiny toes. I didn't have time to process what bad news it was to have a surprise double footling breech baby, which is probably better considering the circumstances in hindsight. For those unfamiliar with birth, you would be hard-pressed to find a hospital that would deliver a footling breech baby vaginally at all: they would be taken for a cesarean section.

The babies legs slowly emerged over the duration of a contraction, and I tried to remember not to touch them as I knew stimulating the baby could trigger a response of his arms inside me, which could stop his delivery and cause his death among other complications. With the next contraction, his body slipped out up to his neck. I massaged his legs and body as I waited for the next contraction to hopefully deliver his head. It is hard to know if that was the right move, since he could have decided to start breathing before his head was delivered. I can't think too much about that now.

Sure enough, with the next contraction, I pushed and his head came out. I was already holding his body, so I pulled him up, turned him over laying on my right hand and rubbed his back with my left hand trying to get him to cry and breathe. A month prior, I had actually dreamed that I had the baby outside of a medical facility and in the dream I knew to do all of that. I have wracked my brain for where that information came from, but I simply don't know. It took what seemed like much longer I'm sure, but he did cough and started to cry a little there in the back seat of that Mazda 2. My sweet, perfect husband (who never cries) was now audibly crying as he drove, just repeating "he's ok! I have a son! He's crying! He's breathing!"

You may be wondering about Austin. I shouted that his feet were coming out back when that happened, and Austin called the midwife back. My baby had been head down for months, so this was a shock for everyone. By the time the call ended, the baby was out and Krissy (my midwife) suggested we go to an ER since we were still around 20 minutes from the birth center. We just so happened to be coming up on the exit for the ER (I'm sorry for those of you who still only believe in coincidences), and Austin pulled in. 

Oliver and I carefully emerged from the floor, covered in blood, but in no pain. Following a natural birth, women's bodies are programmed to release a flood of hormones that act as painkillers, so I was unaware of my second degree perineal tear for the next few hours.

In Summary

Oliver Isa Dressman was born on August 25th, 2015 at 1:45am, weighing 6 lbs, 11 oz. He measured 20.5 inches long, and had absolutely no complications once he started breathing in that car. I received stitches for my tear, but never even needed as much as an IV or oxygen for anything else.

Every woman, body, and pregnancy are different. For me, I feel overwhelmingly privileged to have delivered Oliver naturally. I have never felt more powerful, more loved, or more purpose than I did that terrifying night, kneeling on the floor of our car. I obviously don't recommend delivering your own baby while your husband speeds on the highway, but I am grateful for the knowledge that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me and loves my baby. He knows me and what I am going through. I also know that God loves us through the misfortunes, and that if I had lost my child that night, which statistically should have happened, that I can still be with my little family forever. If you find yourself unsure of what will follow this life, I would encourage you to take steps towards coming to understand before you get there. 

I love my little family. Even as I sit here on this stitched up tush of mine, sore and nursing my tiny newborn, I feel an overwhelming surge of gratitude to be a woman. I am strong, and I am capable. I am grateful to be me.

The Waiting Game

Austin and I have decided to make this blog into our family blog in anticipation of our little one coming next month. Since family and close friends will be interested in the details of Oliver's coming, growth, and face, we figured it would be better to keep track of our story here rather than flooding facebook.

I am 35 weeks pregnant, and both of us are healthy as far as we can tell! I have been working with a midwife at the West Houston Birth Center for a number of reasons. Although I recognize that many women have more possible health risks, since I am healthy and game, I am excited about natural birth in a birth center. For those who are worried, it is only a few minutes from a hospital in case something goes wrong, but time and time again studies have shown that more goes wrong with added invasive monitoring and drugs. 

Recently we moved into our first house, less than 10 minutes from my dad, in Seabrook, Texas. It has been wonderful to set everything up and really prepare for the baby! Austin and I recognize that we are supremely blessed, especially for our age, and most of that comes from privilege outside of our own merits. Throughout the years we have been supported by such wonderful family and friends, and we can't help but overflow with gratitude as we glide into this next stage. I wish everyone in the world could have such a support system.

We will be actively amping up our efforts to take and upload photos! So feel free to nag and prod if its been too long, or if we are missing an opportunity to preserve history.

5 weeks and counting!

So Fresh, So Clean

Austin and I decided to rework this blog at the beginning of a new era for the newest Dressman family. We've been married for nearly four months now, will both graduate with our bachelor's degrees within the next two weeks, and within a month after that will have relocated to Houston, Texas.

I've accepted a position in the Spring Branch District in Houston through Teach For America, and Austin is looking for positions in Public Relations. We are optimistic, since Houston is one of the best cities for PR in the country.

In the last four months, Austin and I have been the busiest we've ever been. Austin has held two internships while going to school full time, and I student taught at a local middle school full time while working at BYU on Saturdays. We are grateful to be wrapping up, and excited for what's on its way! Austin and I will both be contributing to this blog, and are planning on posts ranging from photo updates to thoughts from the day.

Come back soon :)

Represent

Everyone wants to talk about women. So let's talk about women for a second.

The word "feminist" is accompanied by one torrent of a spectrum, but for the sake of this brief conversation, I'm going to call myself a feminist. 

I think I rock.

As do other women.

As do men.

As a general rule, I think human beings are pretty A+ creatures.

However, I've noticed something that I feel is being miscommunicated that I would love to clear up, if I can. It has to do with image, modesty, representation, and self respect.

If this is the first you're seeing this image, don't be too hard on yourself. This is Rihanna in her new video "Pour It Up." It emphasizes the allure of strippers and wealth. I'd like to hope that Rihanna has a whole truckload of redeeming qualities. I just...can't tell from that video.

I'm not seeing any strides for women here. I see power, yes. Perhaps a sense of freedom? To be honest this really isn't the kind of power I'm looking for. Maybe that's weird.

Now before you get all crazy on me and start thinking this:



I want to clarify that I don't think a body is anything to be ashamed of. I'm quite proud of mine, to be honest. This is not a "cover up- no one wants to see that" conversation. What an incredible phenomenon is the human body! I just mean to make the point, ridiculous as it may seem, that there is more to me as a being, a woman, a student, an activist, and whatever else I choose to be, than my physical appearance or sexual allure.

It's right about now that the big ugly word "modesty" comes into play. I know people hate that word. "Modesty" has come to have a nearly oppressive tint to it, and I lament that. So when I use it here, yes, I'm referring to clothing, but more than that- I'm referring to a sense of self imposed self-respect.
(Did anyone else notice how many S's that was? Just saying.)

Everyone likes talking about women in relation to men, so I'll indulge you for a second.

This image is featured at the Women's Rights Museum in Seneca Falls, New York. It's one of my personal favorites, and it's really what I'm talking about here. The message is, women are often seen for their quality outsides, and men for their quality insides. Under this rationale, I hope you're really proud of those master's degrees, ladies.

Do you wish to be respected for what goes on in your brain?

Do you consider yourself to have a strong character and a sound mind?

Does your will power or your cool intellect contribute and make the world a safer and more sane place?

Does your love for others give them hope or a greater reason to press on?

Then do yourself a favor. Focus on that, instead.

As a final example of what I mean by all of this, I'd like to give you just a few examples of women who I personally look up to, regardless of their sex appeal or nerve to walk outside in underwear. 

Jessica U. Meir-  Assistant Professor of Anesthesia at Harvard Medical School, and one of the eight new astronauts of NASA. (Ok...once the government shutdown shenanigans are over)

 Chimamanda Adichie- Inspirational speaker and author. She has received education from Yale, Johns Hopkins, University of Nigeria,  Drexel, and Eastern Connecticut State University.

Crystal Christensen- Elementary school teacher, talented blogger, good friend, and currently battling bone cancer like a champion.

These three beautiful women inspire me to further develop what makes me who I am. Every day should be spent questioning, learning, giving everything you've got to make this world a better place, and let's be honest- the best way to do those things is with your clothes on.

Enculturation. But what else can you do?

Hi everyone!

I've been asked to do one of those assignments you do when you tell people about what makes you you and all that and stuff.

You are now privy to it.

YOU'RE WELCOME.

1. Microphone- I am a recording artist, and will be releasing an album in the fall. These songs mean more than fame or recognition, but have always been a part of who I am. I am not trained, but play the piano, guitar, and I sing. In more aspects than just music, I think of myself as slightly rough around the edges but true.

Possibilities. Imagination. Creativity.

2. Cheerwine- I am from North Carolina and miss it. Being from the South has shaped much of how I see myself and others. It has molded my political views, the pace of life, my environmental preference, and my sense of home.

Accepting. Nostalgic. Heritage.

3. Engagement Ring- I am getting married in January! I come from a culture that values marriage, and it's not so strange to be getting married at 23.

Commitment. Sacrifice. Hope.

4. Tracting shoes- I served a mission in Upstate New York and returned in May of this year.

Hard work. Dedication. Religious conviction.