Little #2 missed his first day of kindergarten today. (Not THE first day, it was actually day 10 for him.) He came home last night not feeling well and when I checked him later on, he was running a low grade temp. Poor kid. I hate when my littles are sick.
Apparently getting up at 6:40am (on your own) makes you sleepy when lunchtime rolls around.
Little #3 was quiet all of a sudden during her lunch. I came out of the office and found her like this. I believe that she’s the first of our kids to fall asleep at the table.
Now I can only hope she will go to sleep when bedtime comes later tonight.
Last week we spent time up north with Jake’s family. Little #4 had a hard time napping during the day (unless it was in someone’s arms) and sleeping at night unless it was next to me. We all had a hunch she was teething.
Sure enough, tooth #1 on the bottom has popped through!
(Edited to add that tooth #2 followed a few days after this post.)
I have been meaning to write about a few things that have taken place over the last 8 months in hopes that someday I’ll be able to look back on this season in life and laugh a little while smiling and thanking God that everything turned out just fine in the end. God is faithful and I’m finally ready to publish what I began writing back in November of 2012.
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I never would have dreamed that when we accepted an offer on our house at the end of August that we were setting the craziest time of our lives into motion. I’m sure anyone who has had kids start a new school, sold their house, moved, rented, OR had a baby would tell you that it can be a bit stressful. Did you notice I said “or?” Can you imagine doing all of those things at once? In our case, that “or” should read “and.” I still can’t believe that’s the path we embarked on back in August. (Well, technically I found out I was pregnant in June, but anyway…)
We should have been excited that we actually got an offer on our house relatively quickly, right? Well, we were, but the catch was we had a month to move out. At least that’s what it said on paper. In reality, we had much less than that. First, we had to wait for the inspection to go through. (No sense packing anything until that passed, right?) Then we had to wait for the appraisal to be completed and returned. (Again, it didn’t make sense to pack much before that was approved because if the house didn’t appraise for enough, the whole offer would fall apart. And our agent wasn’t 100% confident our house would appraise high enough. So why bother packing if you’d just have to unpack?) So we waited, and waited, losing precious packing time with every day that passed. Finally, on September 20th, we got a call saying that the numbers looked good and we would be closing in a week. That’s right, a week! We knew this was the date all along, but we really weren’t sure everything would fall into place. I quickly started making phone calls to line up a storage container for all of our stuff and sent out a plea to family and friends to help us pack up our entire house. Oh, and we also needed to find a temporary place to live. Minor detail, right?
Saturday morning, we had a crew of awesome help show up and start loading & packing, packing & loading. By late afternoon, “The Big Blue Box” we had rented was full as was my parents’ trailer. My kitchen cupboards were bare, rooms were empty, and it looked like we were actually going to have a chance at getting everything out of the house by the closing on the 28th. I am still in awe of all that was accomplished in one day. I don’t think we could have asked for a better group of people to help us in such a short amount of time.
The rest of the week we continued to pack smaller items, leaving the beds until the very end. We moved them to the rental house I found on Craigslist on Thursday. (More on that house later.) We had a series of “lasts” in the house that we tried to capture in photos – last dinner, bath time, bed time, etc. Even as we went to bed that last night in the house, I think I was still a little in disbelief that we were not going to be living in that house anymore. With all of our belongings gone, it didn’t really feel like our home anymore, but the reality of us actually moving somewhere else hadn’t officially hit me quite yet. That was still to come.
The move to the rental house went smoothly. Again, with some great helping hands, the blue box was emptied into the garage and house very quickly. I should take a step back though. The rental itself was not in very good condition when we were ready to move in on Thursday. Having previously been rented for 8 years, the landlord was attempting to get it in to a rentable state again, however, we found out too late that he came up extremely short of that goal. The place was downright disgusting. Friends and family spent hours just getting the place livable. And when I say livable, I just mean clean. Who in their right mind rents a place in the state this house was in? I guess we did. Like I said, we were short on time and jumped at the first place with enough space to store our belongings while we looked for a new home.
Cleaning the house was one ordeal. Finding all of the broken or non-functioning things while living in the house was another. Here’s what we encountered in our little rental house in 7 months: The kitchen sink leaked (but did get fixed.) The dishwasher didn’t work. (Once replaced, the water leading to it leaked into the basement for a week, causing damage to the ceiling and wall – water also leaked behind the electrical panel.) Apparently a constant leak into the basement wasn’t a huge concern for our landlord. The fridge constantly ran and had broken shelves, the bathtub jets leaked into the basement bathroom, toilets didn’t flush without holding down the levers, and the washing machine didn’t work. We were without a washer for TWO WEEKS until we ended up bringing in our own. What kind of landlord doesn’t return phone calls or texts when a family of five renting a property is without a functioning washer that was promised in the rental listing? (Thankfully, my mom was kind enough to do many loads for us during those two weeks.) We negotiated a rent reduction since we brought in our own (functional) machine. The garage door opened, but the track looked as if it was going to break in half. Brackets actually broke on the door and had to be fixed. Then a short time later, the door quit closing on its own when using the remote button. The sliding back door became more and more difficult to open and close as the temperatures got colder, and the screen door was completely useless. The oven only heated to one temperature…hot, and to top it all off, the furnace died in February on one of the coldest days of the year…the day Little #4 was born.
Just re-reading that list makes me shake my head in disbelief.
I turned in our keys to the place we called “the rental house,” today. I couldn’t bring myself to ever call the place “home” for numerous reasons, but primarily because I needed to hold onto the hope that we would find a real place to call home again. Thanks to the prayers of so many, we finally can.
Today is a day I will NEVER forget!
I went to bed about midnight. Little #4 was due three days ago. I laid in bed, unable to sleep, for about 3 hours. Finally, at about 3AM, I got out of bed and realized that the temperature in the house was 57 degrees…in February. We were in the middle of one of the coldest weeks of the winter and we had no heat coming from the furnace. I went looking for our space heaters and then went to the basement to put the laundry in the dryer. I had to do something to keep my mind of the regular, but tolerable contractions my body was experiencing. While the clothes were tumbling, I downloaded a contraction timer app for my phone and started timing my contractions. Talk about an awesome app to have! Forget about needing to find a watch with a second hand, pen & paper. All I had to do was click a button to start timing and click it again to stop. Brilliant! Apparently closing the dryer door startled Jake and when he woke up enough to realize I wasn’t in bed, he came downstairs to see what was going on. I showed him the record of my contractions and we decided to call his mom and ask her to come to the house in preparation for us going to the hospital.
Patti got to our house around 4AM and by the time we gave her the low-down on school schedules, furnace repair needs, and meals, we left the house about 4:30. Close to 40 minutes later, we pulled into the ER parking lot at the hospital. We made our way up to the OB floor and were directed to the triage area. (I had called before coming in and the phone triage nurse had given me the ok to come in.) What happened next set the tone for the entire morning. The triage nurse came in with a scowl on her face and made me feel like my presence was an inconvenience. I wasn’t expecting to have a heart-to-heart with her, but a little cordial conversation would have been nice. She got me hooked up to the monitor and my contractions were tracked for about a half-hour. After that, she checked my progress and informed me that I wasn’t far along at all. She asked what I wanted to do.
Excuse me?
What do I want to do? Help me out here. What are my options? She didn’t really offer any. When I asked if I could walk the halls, she told me that walking really doesn’t help labor progress and that since this is baby #4, that it could take longer for my body to deliver.
Excuse me?
Apparently mentioning to her that my previous three labors had all gone from start to finish in about 12 hours didn’t mean anything. Apparently the fact that we were living 45 minutes from the hospital didn’t mean anything either. I was finally able to convince her to let me walk the halls for an hour and she told me we’d re-evaluate the situation again after that.
One hour and 15 minutes later, I was checked again and told that I still wasn’t making any progress and was asked what I wanted to do.
Excuse me?
Nevermind that as I was walking, my contractions were causing me to stop and concentrate on breathing through them. Nevermind (again) that we live 45 minutes away from the hospital and we are approaching morning rush hour on a weekday. Nevermind that this is my fourth delivery. Nevermind that I know my own body better than anyone else. We finally convinced the nurse to contact my doctor and get her opinion on the situation. When she returned to the room, we were told that my doctor said we could go home and that I should keep my late afternoon appointment with her to check if I had made any progress.
Excuse me? Go home?
Tears starting flowing down my cheeks. I was tired (hadn’t slept since Monday) and in my gut, I knew I shouldn’t be sent home. I felt defeated, too tired to stand up for myself. (I found out later that my doctor had actually given the nurse two options for me – walk the halls for another hour or go home. I was only told I could go home.) We packed up our things and headed back to our car.
As we drove back to our rental house, my contractions began to increase in intensity. By the time we arrived at the house, Jake and I were so exhausted that we went to our room to try and nap. Laying in bed was extremely uncomfortable. The time between my contractions was holding steady at about 5 minutes, but the intensity was increasing. Unfortunately, I had no idea how much “progress” I was making.
We had scheduled two house showings with our agent for later in the morning, so not knowing how far along I was, we decided to keep our 11 and 11:30AM appointments. I thought that getting out of the house would help take my mind off the contraction pain I was experiencing. I made it though the first showing…barely. By the time we drove into the second driveway, I told Jake that he should go in with our agent and if he thought it was worth having me see, we’d schedule another showing. The few minutes he was inside the house felt like forever. In hindsight, we should have gone from the showing back to the hospital, but again, I had no idea how far I had progressed.
Jake drove us back to the house and then took Little #1 to school. On his way home, he decided to stop for gas. While at the station, I tried laying down in our room to relax. Ha. Ya right. Not possible. Apparently my attempt to keep my voice low through the pain was not successful. However, my mother-in-law did a great job covering for me. When Little #2 looked toward my room with concern, she turned up the television a little more and sweetly told him that “Mom is just singing.”
When I couldn’t stand the pain anymore, I got out of bed and called Jake’s cell phone. I told him we needed to leave for the hospital immediately. He pulled into the driveway shortly after and I climbed into the front seat in-between contractions. As we drove, I clenched Jake’s right hand as the time between contractions decreased and the intensity increased. Jake remained extremely calm as I kept telling him over and over that I didn’t think we were going to make it to the hospital. Finally, about 10 minutes into the trip he asked if I wanted him to call 911. I said yes. The dispatcher asked if we wanted an ambulance and I said I wasn’t sure. (Clearly I wasn’t thinking straight.) We told the dispatcher we’d call back. About a minute later, I told Jake we needed to exit the freeway and head for the nearby hospital (not the one we were supposed to deliver at.) He called the 911 dispatcher back and asked for an ambulance to meet us at the grocery store near our exit. Two cop cars and two minutes later (which seemed like an eternity!) the ambulance pulled into the parking lot. The medics rolled the gurney out of the truck and brought it next to our car. I slowly made my way to the gurney and they swiftly rolled me to the ambulance. All the while, I was telling the medics that I needed to push. The driver firmly (but kindly) told me that I had to wait until I was at least inside the truck.
Excuse me?
Ok, she had a point. But honestly, a woman in labor can’t just turn off the urge to push. Anyone who has given birth will tell you that. But I digress. As they put me in the back of the ambulance, the driver apparently told Jake that there was no way we were going to make it to our intended hospital destination to deliver the baby. In fact, she didn’t think I’d make it to the hospital just a few blocks away. Turns out she was right. About 30 seconds after they closed the back doors of the ambulance, I had a strong urge to push and my body took over. I yelled for the paramedics in the back with me to help me and with one more push, I delivered Little #4 at 12:36PM.
The paramedic who caught her placed her on my chest and wrapped blankets around us. It all happened so fast that neither medic even knew what I had had. After a quick check, I was told “It’s a girl!” A minute later, we pulled into the ER bay of the hospital. They wheeled us up to a delivery room and thankfully, Little #4 and I both checked out ok after her crazy entrance into the world.
Baby girl, you have one amazing birth story! I am so thankful for your Daddy’s calm demeanor through an incredibly intense situation, for our relatives who took care of your siblings while we were in the hospital, and for the paramedics who helped deliver you. We are so happy to have you here, safe and sound! Welcome to our family!
Here’s what happens when your two year old’s chin meets the edge of your glass dining table.
Little #3 was a very brave girl as the doctor stitched her up tonight. She said, “It tickles!”
Today was a big day in the Sheck house. Nolan embarked on a new adventure…kindergarten! We’re so proud of you, buddy! You’re going to have a great year!
Our Little Miss has become quite the talker. She now calls her “buh-buhs” by their actual names – “No-nen” and “inkin.” (We’re still working on the “L” sound in both names 🙂 )
She has also learned to appropriately use the term “bless you” when someone sneezes or coughs. She caught me by surprise recently when I sneezed and she said, “Bless you, Mommy.” She has also figured out how to say “I love you” in her Ingrid-ese. So sweet to hear!
Jake was able to get two tickets to tonight’s Twins game from a co-worker. He took the biggest of the littles with him. They rode the train downtown, grabbed a bite to eat, and took in the majority of the game. I think a highlight was walking around the inside of the stadium while the game was being played 🙂
Here is our little Twins fan waiting for the train:
We dyed eggs with Nolan & Lincoln for the first time tonight. I know, I know, why haven’t we done it before?!? To be honest, they’ve never really asked about it and I just didn’t encourage it. Dropping eggs into a staining liquid just sounds like a dangerous activity for two busy boys, but we decided to finally give it a try. Now that we’ve got one year under our belts, I’m sure they will remind me we need to do it again next year.
You may notice the man with the beard in the upper right photo. Jake gave up shaving for Lent. What you’re looking at is 40 days of growth. I’m happy to report that shortly after the photo was taken, he was once again clean shaven 🙂