Introducing Spencer Lewis Francl

He's here.  Blessedly here!  And isn't he handsome?!?!

Spencer Lewis Francl.  
Born Oct. 24, 2015 at 5:57pm. 
8lbs, 5oz.  21 inches long. 

His name means "Provider" or "Dispenser" and "Famous Warrior."  His middle name being for, of course, C.S. Lewis.  We settled on his name the day we found out we were pregnant.  I knew it was a boy, and I knew his name, which solved many a late-night discussion for Chase- we didn't have to rehash names, ever.  I can't explain how I knew.  I just did.

I had no idea that he would come on Saturday. In fact, by 10am I was pretty sure he wasn't going to come until Wednesday, the 28th (his due date).  Lily had been up early Saturday morning from about 2:30-4:30.  She was emotional and whiny - uncharacteristic for her to be up in the night, but we didn't know what was going on with her.

I got up with the kids at 7:15am, and we watched cartoons, made pancakes and bacon, and generally enjoyed a lazy Saturday morning.  A little after 10, I realized I was supposed to be at a friend's baby shower (and if I wasn't there, everyone would assume I was in labor) so I headed to the shower and had a wonderful time with dear friends.

I got home at about 11:30, just after Chase had put Lily to bed, and she didn't seem to be herself.  She woke up about noon, and I went into her room to cuddle with her... and she vomitted on me and herself and bed and everywhere!

My poor baby! No wonder she was up in the night! No wonder she kept saying her tummy hurt!  No wonder!  She can be dramatic, so I never know when it's real... I hate it when I miss things like that.

We got her cleaned up, got her bedding going in the wash, got her settled with a movie and comfy clothes and blankets and all manner of sickness-comforts.  Then Chase started to look pale.  Oh, and our washer backed up into our shower.  Yeah, that was awesome.

By 1:00pm or so, I was singing Lily to sleep in our bedroom while Chase was looking more pale by the minute in the recliner.  (Connor was napping normally, thankfully, and my mom had come over to watch the Huskers lose to Northwestern.)

As I sang Lily to sleep, what had been Braxton-hicks turned into not-Braxton-hicks-contractions.  I could still walk and talk through them, but I didn't really want to.  I got in the shower (between loads of laundry, which thankfully, hadn't backed up in the shower since that first load) in an effort to relax and calm down, and there was no doubt:  we were going to the hospital SOON.

By 3:30pm (after a lot of instructions to Mom like, "this pile of bedding has been washed, this one hasn't been" and "here's how to put a duvet cover back on a duvet" and "here are the medical releases should you need them" and "here are pet-feeding instructions") we were on the road headed to the hospital.  Chase had thrown up before we left, but I had him driving, a bucket along, and a promise that he'd pull over if he needed the bucket.

The 30 minute drive to the hospital never seemed so long... for either of us.  We arrived at about 4:00pm.

Bless the nurses who saw me walk in and put me straight into a room without triage!  We got the IV in, got changed into a gown, did vitals, got checked (I was at about 5.5cm) and then I stood up to head to the whirlpool tub (my favorite place to labor).

My water broke.  I nearly swore out loud.  I assure you, I swore in my head.

I'm telling you who have never done this before - there can be for many women (and is for me) a drastic difference between laboring with water and laboring without water.  DRASTIC.  I knew I was in for it.  And I had no idea how long it would take.

They tell me I was only in the tub for 30-40 minutes before I said, "Get the doctor!"  And I was right.  The doctor walked in at about 5:30, and Spencer joined the outside world at 5:57pm.  Blessedly, it was only about 25 minutes of pushing, and it (ironically) felt like even less than that to me.

That's the doctor who delivered Connor behind him -
I love the expression on her face!  It was how I was feeling,
though not what my face looked like!

I went from about 5.5cm to having a baby in my hands in 2 hours.  I went from no contractions to having a baby in my hands in 6 hours.  I went from washing puke out of my hair and off of bedding/clothing/carpet to holding my newborn in 6 hours.

The shakes attacked afterwards (as they almost always do) and took a looong time to go away.  I bled a bit more than they like to see, so it was after 10:00pm before we really got peace and quiet.

Notice the wet spot on Chase's shoulder - it was from the cold damp
cloth the nurses put across his shoulders when he nearly passed out
while I was pushing.  Chase took a break for a contraction, changed
into a short sleeve shirt, and splashed cool water on his face in order
to be able to come back for the grand finale.  Thankfully I didn't
realize what he was doing - I just knew a nurse stepped in for a minute.

And now... now it is 1:13am.  I have beheld his sweet face for little over 7 hours, and my heart could not be more full.

A healthy newborn.
A healthy (recovering) mama.
A daddy who is finally feeling a bit better.
A labor short enough (unlike my other marathon labors of 17 hours and 26 hours) that my ill husband could make it through.
A dear friend who came at just the moment I needed her support to finish strong.
A dear friend who came at just the moment we needed her to help us settle in.
Family nearby, ready, willing, and eager to take sick children so we could focus where we needed to.
Children, brave beyond their years, who went with Gram even though all they wanted was mommy.
A call in to have our sewer looked at - at least it's not snowing or frozen yet like the last time it backed up!
Likely a 24-hour virus, just the kind I almost never get, and we should be through it by tomorrow.
Great antibodies being shared with our newborn through my system so he won't get sick.
A place to give birth that is equipped to handle excess bleeding and make sure mommy (and daddy and baby) are ok each step of the way.

I could go on, but I should go to bed.

We are blessed beyond all reason.

Lord,
Thank you for Spencer's safe arrival.  I fought with You in the shower as I wept over the timing.  I fought with You in the whirlpool tub as I wrestled anger over my water breaking "too early."  I fought with Your divine design as I pushed our little miracle into the world.

You are Creator, God.  You had a plan.  You have a plan.  And tonight, as I lay down to sleep, teach me yet again to rest in Your plan, in Your grace, in Your peace.  You know better than I know; Your ways are higher than mine; I will try to remember that in the future...
Amen.

*I wrote that late last night.  Here are a few of our favorite moments from today*

The Francl siblings.

Connor surprised us - we thought he'd likely be indifferent about Spencer.
Instead, he was as smitten as his sister was and wanted to hold his brother
all the time.  For the most part, Connor was very gentle.

He was gentle until we tried to take Spencer away, at which point
Connor would hold on to his brother as if his life depended on it.
I hope this is a sign of the friendship for years to come!

My little mini-mommy watched everything and is ready for her
baby brother to come home.  Look at that paci-magic she's working!

*sigh* These little ones are so very, very dear.

Look out, world!  The Francls are now a family of 5!

Settling in

It's been 38 weeks...  And I'm ready for it to be over.  No surprise there, really.  What woman at 38 weeks doesn't want to just go ahead and get the delivery business over and meet the little one who's been growing inside?  

I have thought since the beginning of this whole experience that this little guy was going to be coming early - before his due date.  Really, any time after 37 weeks is what I've been preparing myself for.  So here we are a week after that, and I'm still pregnant.  And I could be for another 3 weeks or so (any time between 38 weeks and 41 weeks is considered full-term).  Who knows?

I want to be impatient.  I want to rush things along.  I want to get this show on the road and get the pain and agony over with so I can enjoy the peace of knowing it all went well and my family all gets to enjoy baby.  

My laundry is caught up to within a day.  My dishes are [almost] always done.  My house hasn't been this clean for this length of time (we're talking like a week!) in I can't tell you how long.  I'm ready.  But then...

Then I think about how easy it is to feed the little guy right now; how even though I wake up multiple times a night to roll over, at least I can go right back to sleep and not have to stay up for an unknown amount of time to nurse the baby; how I can easily pack up my children and head to the park for an hour; how I can prep a meal while daddy and the older two play in the living room; how I can hold all 3 of my children at the same time.  

There is much to be thankful for in these final days.  There are so many reasons not to rush things (not least of which is the last bit of development baby boy needs) and to just enjoy this last little bit of pregnancy.  So I'm trying.  In spite of the back/hip pain... and heartburn... and general discomfort... and...  

And anyway, I'm not really due for another 2 weeks, so bring it on pregnancy!  I'm going to [try] to enjoy it.  :)

All she wants is to be a mommy

Pregnancy has begat many interesting conversations with Lily, who just turned 4 a week ago.  She's intelligent, an observer, a thinker, terribly sweet, and very attentive to all things baby-related this time around. She wasn't quite as attentive when she was 2 and I was pregnant with Connor, but this time around is a different story.  

I wrote last month about how Lily was working out HOW the baby was going to get out of my tummy.  You can read about it toward the end of this post: Holding on for dear life.  The gist of it was that I told her that I would have to push the baby out kind of like pooping, but that the doctor would catch the baby - the baby wouldn't end up in the toilet.  That satisfied her, for a time...

So last week we were sitting at the table talking over our lunch, and Lily looked at me quizzically.  "Mommy, does the baby come out the front bum or the back bum?"  (You see, when you potty train a girl, you have to be careful to teach about the "front bum" and the "back bum.")  I just looked at her.

SERIOUSLY?!?!?  I mean, she's 4 years old and a couple of days and I'm having this conversation?!?  What kinds of conversations am I going to be having with her when she's 11, 12, 13, 17, 21?  Maybe we'll have had all the complicated ones talked out by then so we can have more simple conversations when she's an adult like, "Pass me the pink marker, please." and, "What color should I make the princesses dress in this picture I'm coloring?"  *sigh*  

Those deep brown eyes still gazed at me intently waiting for the truth she knew I'd share, because that's what mommies do.

"Well, honey, God gave mommies a special 'middle bum' that is just for babies to come out of.  It's in between the front bum and the back bum, and only just babies come out of it."  

Satisfied she went back to eating, and (blessedly) conversation turned to smoother waters.

I thought the topic was settled.  I would go to the hospital, I would push the baby out of my middle bum with a little help from Daddy and the doctor.  Lily and Connor would stay with Grandma while I did that, then they would come visit at the hospital, and we wouldn't have to talk about this any more.  Then yesterday...

We're soaking up all this amazing fall weather we've been having - 60's and 70's with little wind and perfect for playing at the park.  After an hour of running around at the park, I loaded the kids up in the stroller and started for home.  About 1/2 way home, Lily turns around and asks, "Mommy, when I'm a mommy, will I have a middle bum?"  

The shock at each of these new questions is starting to wear off...

"Honey, you already have a middle bum.  God made girls with middle bums so they could have babies.  But you won't have a baby out of your middle bum until you're much older and married.  Like 25 or 30.  Like Mommy's age."

And then came the root that begat all these questions, "But Mommy," Lily said as the tears welled in her eyes and made her voice quiver, "I want to be a mommy NOW!"  

Her sincerity was both heartening and heartbreaking in the sweetest way!  A pure desire to give love to a little one - not that she really has any idea what kind of love a newborn needs.  The good news, I told her, is that she doesn't really need to be a mommy right now - she can leave that to me.  But what I need for her to do is be the best big sister to our Bitty Bear who will be here very soon.  I need her to love him, to help take care of him, to protect him.  

She's going to be SO good at it, too.  I know, because I watch her with the little brother she already has.  She is learning to be patient with Connor, to share with him, to have fun with him, to help him, to teach him, and to be an example of a loving sibling. 

I've wondered about her sensitive, sweet, gentle spirit that tends toward perfection and requires much assurance and affirmation - will she be ok as the oldest?  At this point, I wouldn't call her a terribly confident child in situations she's never been in before.  How will she hold her own with two younger brothers?  But then there are magical moments where I see her teach, lead, yearn to love more.

She will be fine.  She will be better than fine...

She IS a marvelous older sister and with a little encouragement and direction, I think she always will be.

*Photo credits to Kathy Chase