Gabriel's Birth Story

Hello old friend! It is Saturday night and the toddler is watching the World Series and playing baseball with dad, and our newest addition is sleeping soundly on the couch.

Oh yes; I almost forgot...

Gabriel Anthony joined our family last Friday, October 21st at 2:59 am :)

Since the memories of Gabe's grand entrance are still fresh in my mind, I figured now is the time to sit down and document his birth story (just like I did with Jackson).

Our lengthy tale begins the previous week -- I had my regular weekly checkup on Wednesday, October 12th and figured that since I was just at 38 weeks, it would be fairly uneventful. WRONG. My doctor checked me, told me that I was at a 3, and that there was a pretty good chance baby was coming that weekend.

I flat out panicked.

The nursery still wasn't finished.

My parents were leaving for an out-of-state conference.

There was still so much to do!

My doctor told me to take it easy, not do any heavy lifting, and to cross my fingers (and legs) that he wouldn't come this weekend, but that the odds were leaning that way.

After frantically calling Brandon, my mom, and Aunt Nancy (who said she would come watch Jax whenever the time came), and texting a friend as another backup, I felt significantly better... however, my parents still cancelled their trip in order to watch Jax if need be (thanks, mom and dad!).

My family came down that Friday and the next day, we did a lot of walking, visiting, and spicy wing lunching (with my Aunt Nancy and Uncle Rolf), but there was still no sign of baby.

Go figure.

That evening -- as I was laying down next to Jackson -- I felt a weird trickle down my leg...

Could this be it? Did my water break?!

(Spoiler alert: It was pee.)

After calling the after hours line and being told by the doctor to come in if it would make me feel better, Brandon and I hopped in the car and made the unnecessary trek to the hospital. Long story short, my water hadn't broke, I was still at a 3, and Brandon and I walked every square inch of that hospital (for two straight hours) to see if it would help me progress any more.

It didn't and we were sent home at around 12:30 am.

Poor Brandon had to work the next morning, so Jax and I went to church with my family, made a Costco trip, walked every square inch of the warehouse, and then headed home to rest a bit. At this point, I knew that baby wasn't coming that weekend and felt a huge sense of guilt that I made my parents miss their trip.

**3 DAYS LATER**

With toddler in tow, I made my way to my 39 week checkup and discovered that this time I was at a 5...

"How am I at a 5 and not in the hospital?" I asked my doctor.

It was then we talked about induction options (I had been really stressed about when it was going to happen and what we would do with Jackson if it happened in the middle of the night) and my doctor suggested just checking in and having my water broken since I had progressed so much already. So I made my appointment for that Friday at 5:30 am, called my mom to see if she could come down Thursday evening to stay with Jackson, and we were all set to go!

Whew, what a relief! However, a feeling of guilt began sinking in at the thought of induction... I was still at just 39 weeks, so what if he wasn't ready? After weighing the pros with the cons (the pro being that we were guaranteed to have somebody here to watch Jax), I decided it was the right choice and finished prepping for baby.

Thursday was a pretty normal day... Brandon was off work and took Jackson outside to do chores with him while I worked on some articles, then we dropped a meal off to one of my good friends who had just had a baby, and we patiently awaited the arrival of my mom and brother.

This picture gives me the biggest smile -- Jackson got to play with one of his best friends when we dropped off our meal and they were both wearing Batman shirts :)

Throughout the day, I noticed painless contractions here and there and finally realized they were getting closer together... but since I wasn't in agonizing pain, I wrote them off a Braxton Hicks and went on with my day. However, after dinner that night, I had a feeling that we needed to go to the hospital and notified the on-call doctor of what was going on. After hearing that I was at a 5 the previous day, she told me it would be safest to just come in and get checked. 

When we arrived, the floor was packed and instead of being sent to the regular triage room for monitoring, we were shown to a spacious delivery room, where I was monitored for the next hour. Since my contractions still weren't the strongest, the nurse wasn't quite ready to admit me. When we explained that we were coming back at 5:30 the next morning for induction, she told us they would probably just let us stay over night, to which we were extremely relieved. As the time rolled on, things were seeming more grim and the nurse notified us that now the doctor would probably send us home if I didn't progress more. 

And that's when the contractions began getting stronger and stronger...

After another couple hours of monitoring, I was at a 5 1/2, which -- according the nurse -- probably still wasn't enough to stay, which is when I began to panic. By this point, I was sitting on an exercise ball having to breathe through contractions... what was I going to do if they sent me home?

It was FINALLY at around 12:30 am when the nurse came in and said that it looked like I was staying until I had the baby and I was SO relieved. We were then introduced to our new nurse and I began pushing harder for an epidural (#priorities), to which she assured me was coming soon.

She lied. 

The contractions had gotten to the point of unbearable (those of you who have ever delivered a child know exactly what I'm talking about) and I could no longer keep my eyes open during them and would shake and sweat through the entire grueling 60-90 seconds (with a 60-90 second break between each one). That's when my nurse finally took my blood -- and got blood all over my shoes and the floor :/ -- had it sent out for testing, and then contacted the anesthesiologist. 

I'm sure that what seemed like 5 hours was only a half hour or so, but I literally cried when the anesthesiologist walked through that door with his cart full of spine-numbing goodies. 

"Whoa... what's going on with your back?" He bluntly asked.

(For those of you who don't know, I had back surgery when I was a senior in high school to place a rod on my spine in order to correct my Scheuermann's Kyphosis and I still a pretty large scar because of it.)

"Are you sure they let you have an epidural with your first one?" 

"OMG YES! Just hurry up and give me the effing shot" I wanted yell, but couldn't because another awful contraction was coming on.

It seemed like another 3 hours, but he finally gave me the shot and sweet relief was in sight. 

That epidural was nothing short of euphoric. 

I could breathe again.

I could talk. 

I felt so happy and relaxed. 

By this point, it was close to 2:30 am and at last check, I was only at a 7, so I figured that now was the time to kick back and try to take a quick nap. Our ditsy but sweet nurse (who despite getting blood all over my favorite Toms and crushing my legs beneath the bedside tray while raising my bed for blood work) was now my angel, and I finally felt up to visiting with her, which is what we did for maybe a minute and a half before I felt a huge gush and wetness against my legs. 

"I think my water may have just broke..." I announced.

Sure enough it had and I was beginning to feel a weird sensation in my lower stomach. 

"Are you sure this epidural is working? Something doesn't feel right."

She assured me that I was still hooked up and that I could push the button every 10 minutes, which is when I felt the undeniable urge to push. 

"He's starting to come out and I really think I need to push," I warned the nurse, who slowly walked around the bed, not believing that it was time. 

To paraphrase what she said:

"The doctor is delivering another baby right now, but if it is time to push, I think I can do it... Oh shit!"

She yelled for Brandon to press the call button, quickly told the nurse that baby was crowning, and sternly told me not to push anymore. 

(If you have been in this situation, you know that it is extremely difficult to not push when your body is telling you it's go time.)

Fortunately, the doctor had just finished delivering another baby (and was actually planning to come to my room right after to break my water) and the room was quickly filled with several new machines and nurses.

After 3 relatively painless pushes, all 6 lbs. 10 oz. of Little Brother Sandmeier was here! As I have discussed before, I spent 9 months stressing out over having a new baby and whether or not I could ever love another child as much as I love Jackson, but the moment the nurse placed him against my skin, my heart doubled in size. 

I loved this little boy so much. 

Ignore the exhausted woman with the chapped lips...

He looks nothing like his dad...

The rest of the morning consisted of the usual: Brandon slept on the uncomfortable plastic recliner, I cluster fed the baby for 2 hours straight, and then couldn't sleep from all of the excitement. 

It was a very long night, but our name-less baby was here and he was absolutely perfect. 

The next morning, my mom and brother brought in Jackson, who did about 2 million times better than I had anticipated. (Brandon and I acted the same as we always do and Jackson got a kick out of seeing the baby, laying in the hospital bed with mom, stealing mom's chocolate milk, and opening his new VTech digital camera from his brother!)

Grammy in her element.

Exhausted but oh so happy!

At around noon -- before Brandon, my mom, brother, and Jackson all left to go to lunch and take Jax to get his haircut -- Brandon and I decided we had to nail down a name. My entire pregnancy, I was stuck on the names David, Matthew, and Patrick, but he just didn't seem like any of those. We had been bouncing names off each other that entire morning (I like Braden and Gavin; Brandon liked Christian and Jacob) when I finally looked online at baby names and came across Gabriel. 

For the first time ever, Brandon actually agreed with me on a name and we had it narrowed down to either Gabriel or Jacob. 

To decide, I did what any logical person would do and wrote both names on different slips of paper, put them into an unused barf bag, and told Jax to draw one. It took a lot of coaxing, but he finally reached in and grabbed out the slip of paper that said Jacob.

It was settled. His name was Jacob.

However, something just didn't seem right... he just wasn't a Jacob to me. Brandon could tell I was having second thoughts and said we should name him Gabirel and that he also thought he seemed like a Gabe. 

(Since Jackson's middle name is Lee, which is also both Brandon's dad's and Brandon's middle names, I asked from the get-go if we could use one of my family's names for his middle name, so we went with Anthony in honor of my dad.) 

The rest of the afternoon was spent resting, visiting with family, drinking lots of chocolate milk (my major craving), and cuddling with sweet Gabe. 

Aunt Nancy and Uncle Rolf

Joe (my brother)

My dad came in Friday evening after work! 

Gabe's first bath with our favorite nurse, Maxine (during his 24 hour check up... at 3 am!)

 

Saturday was our discharge day, so after Gabe's early afternoon circumcision (and a visit from a few friends), it was time to go home!

Terrible quality but a lady brought by some homemade hats for Gabe and Jax couldn't help but try one on!

Our friend Sondra and her daughter stopped by Saturday afternoon to meet Gabe!

Post HUGE breakdown... postpartum hormones are crazy... more on that later this week. 

Time to get these munchkins home!

The adjustment to becoming a family of four has gone way better than I could have ever imagined, which I will talk more about later this week! Thank you all so much for the prayers, texts, calls, and well wishes -- we are so incredibly blessed by our two sweet boys!

Jax?

Did you know what you were going to name your child before he/she was born?

Me too!

Daniel. My son's name was going to be Daniel.

How did we come up with Daniel? Well..

When I first learned that we were having a baby, I poured and poured over boy names--I've had a girl's name picked out forever (which I will share if/when we have a girl!) but couldn't decide on a boys name that I really liked.. and then one day, it came to me.

Owen.

Yes, that is the name we would use if we had a little boy. Well, it turned out that Brandon wasn't too keen on the name Owen and thought he had some say in the matter (psh, men..)--Baby Owen was no more. So a few short months later when we found out that we were indeed having a boy, it was time to start pouring over boy names again.

Should I name him after one of my favorite musicians?

Layne? No.. (didn't he die of a heroin overdose? BIG no-go)

Kurt? Nah.. (Didn't he commit suicide? Another big no-go.. plus, I'd already had a betta named Cobain so that was tribute enough)

Steve Miller? Maybe..

Ugh, what were we going to name our son?!

It finally came to me one day in late August: Daniel Lee (Lee was always a given for the middle name--its both Brandon's and his dad's middle name). I ran Daniel past Brandon to see what he thought and, sure enough, he liked it! I was so happy that it was finally settled and that we had our son's name; I couldn't wait to start buying little personalized outfits and decorations with "Daniel" on them! But my husband quickly put a stop to that.. he was dead set on waiting until we'd met the little fellow to officially name him.

That. Drove. Me. Crazy.

His name was Daniel! I thought that had been established--why couldn't we just make it official already? Anyway, we decided to come up with a few backup names just in case he wasn't a "Daniel" (whatever that meant) which included Peyton (for the millionth time, not for Peyton Manning; I just really liked the name!), Ethan, and Jacob. One night, Brandon came upstairs after finishing an episode of "Sons of Anarchy" and joked about naming him Jax (Jackson) after the shows main character.

Yeah.. like I was going to name our son after the character on a TV show that I couldn't stand.

Fast forward to December 22nd..

Our son was born--I couldn't believe it! He was so sweet, tiny, and perfect and he was finally here! It was time to call our family and friends and tell them the exciting news of little Daniel's arrival.. but something just wasn't right. I couldn't put my finger on it, but Daniel just wasn't a Daniel.. I knew it, Brandon knew it, and "not Daniel" knew it.

Okay, okay, we'd name him Peyton--he seemed like he could be a Peyton.

Our Kansas City Chiefs loving nurse made a face and threw a fit as soon as she heard me say "Peyton." I explained that we weren't naming him after Peyton Manning (although I am a Broncos fan) and quickly realized that I would have to explain that to everyone for the rest of my life ("Hi, nice to meet you! I'm Annie and this is my son, Peyton.. not after Peyton Manning though!"). Peyton was out.

"What were those others names you'd mentioned?" I asked Brandon.

He went through the list again and once more mentioned Jackson.

Jackson, huh?

I looked at my little sweet and alert boy and thought about the name.. the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. Jax is a really cute nickname for a little boy and he could go by Jack (or Jackson!) later on in life.. Little Jax Sandmeier.. Dr. Jack Sandmeier.. President Jackson L. Sandmeier.. yep, it had a good ring to it.

His name was Jackson.

My sweet boy.

We have gotten so many compliments on Jax's name--a friend of the family even made a comment about how Jackson Lee sounds like the name of a Southern gentleman :) As much as I hate to admit it, Brandon was right about waiting to make his name official; the name Jackson just suits him so well!! 

And that, my friends, is the story of how Jackson Lee came to be (and how his mamma is a poet and didn't even know it).

Jackson's Birth Story

Have I ever talked about how much I love blogs? Seriously--you can learn so many different recipes, makeup tricks, gift ideas, etc. It's amazing!

Over the last 9 months, my favorite blogs/posts to read have been pregnancy and birth stories--Brandon and I never took any classes (we kept thinking "oh we have plenty of time to take one" only to realize that it was December and that Baby Sand would be here any day) so reading these raw and candid stories from real women was a way of mentally preparing myself for the birth of our son. My hope in sharing our story is to help someone who was in the same boat as me, and to offer any advice or guidance that I can.

I should also warn you that this post might be a little TMI for some so proceed with caution..

3 days old and propping his own head up when I burp him--does it get any cuter (I think not!)?

My story begins on Thursday, December 19th (3 days before Jax was born).

Now, if you've ever been pregnant (or have ever known somebody who is pregnant), you know that the restroom is your second home and that you need to potty every 4 minutes. I was completely aware of this fact and had fallen victim to the occasional leaks (word to the wise, if you need to sneeze, cross your legs) but began to notice more leaking than usual..

Did my water break without me realizing it?

I really didn't want to be the boy who cried wolf and make a bigger deal out of it than it was but after talking to Brandon, I decided to call my doctor and head over to the hospital to get checked out (I have heard so many horror stories about a mother's water breaking without her knowing it and the complications it caused the baby). After being swabbed (which is exactly what it sounds like) and monitored for a couple of hours, the verdict came back that my amniotic sac was still in tact and that the leaking I had was most likely urine.

UGH. 

I left the hospital, picked up a couple things at Walmart, and headed home to use the restroom and prop my feet up.

The rest of my day went on as normal--our landlord is selling the duplex we live in to his daughter and was coming over Friday morning with an appraiser so I spent the afternoon vacuuming, mopping, and scrubbing down our place (remember the story about how we're not supposed to have Bitsy? Yeah, he still doesn't know that we have her..). After all of that cleaning and moving around, I was spent and lounged around for the rest of the day.

Fast forward to Friday morning at 2am.

I woke up to use the restroom (nothing new!) and noticed that my legs/pants/sheets were soaked. I was really warm and wondered if I had just been sweating (or worse.. wet the bed.. :/) or if maybe my water had broken for real this time. I woke Brandon up to tell him what had happened and we decided it was time to head to the hospital.

Biggest. Ordeal. Ever.

I had planned on dropping Bitsy off at my brothers apartment before my doctors appointment Friday morning but that obviously wouldn't happen if I was really in labor, so I called Joey (who was thankfully still awake) and we quickly threw all of Bits' toys/things into one of Brandon's old army foot lockers, packed up Bitsy & her essentials (food, litter box) and sped over to Joe's place. Bitsy was really scared and cried from her carrier the entire time we were in the car which in turn made me cry.. Poor, poor Brandon.. We got Bitsy all dropped off and taken care of and were on the road to the hospital by 2:45. I was once again swabbed and monitored for about an hour or so before they sent us home.

It had just been sweat.. or pee..

We made the decision to just leave Bits over at Joey's the rest of the night, came home, washed the sheets, and headed back to bed at around 6am. I went to my doctors appointment at 10 that morning, discovered I was dilated to a 3 (this time 90% effaced), was told by my doctor that I'd most likely deliver sometime that next week, picked up the cat from Joey's, and headed home to rest.

Saturday rolled around and Brandon and I designated it as "baby day"--we were going to do lots of walking around the grocery store, mall, eat really spicy food for supper, and do other "things" that are said to induce labor. Not even 5 minutes after arriving at the grocery store (we were trying to buy all of our groceries for Christmas dinner), I had to throw up. "Well, maybe something is actually happening.." I thought to myself as I ran to the restroom. This wound up triggering a few hard contractions but they eventually subsided into nothing.

Dang.

We went home, took naps, walked around the mall, ate really spicy Mexican food for supper, and went about our normal evening before I realized I was losing my mucus plug. I was so excited!! This had to really be it, right?! After some quick research, Brandon and I discovered that this really means nothing and that it could still be weeks before I went into labor.

Dang².

So I laid in bed, watched "48 Hours," fell asleep before the beginning of SNL, woke up at the end of Justin Timberlake's 2nd song, couldn't get comfortable again, and just stared at the ceiling.

And that's when it finally happened.

My first ever real contraction (I had been getting period like cramps here and there and assumed those were contractions--nope, not even close). I hurt so, so badly, couldn't breathe or move and decided it was time to get the stopwatch out. After about an hour of monitoring, I woke Brandon up--there were only 4 minutes between each contraction at this point and I needed to get to the hospital.

I called the hospital (they kept transferring me to the wrong department which is extremely frustrating when you can barely talk), they gave us the okay to come in, and we headed out. Our nurse checked to see if I had dilated anymore (still at a 3, just like the day before) and told us she'd check again in the next hour.. that, my friends, was the longest hour of my entire life.

My contractions were anywhere from 1-3 minutes apart at this point, I couldn't breathe, talk or drink water, and I kept throwing up; I told Brandon that if they sent us home, I wouldn't know when to come back if these weren't what real contractions felt like.

An hour finally passed and Kaitlyn (the nurse) checked me again and announced that I was now at a 4--I was in active labor! She put me on an IV drop (bless her heart) and gave me a shot to somewhat ease the pain which made my life so much better. I continued to dilate, progress, and rest as the hours rolled on--Brandon started making phone calls to our families to let them know it was indeed time as I drifted in and out of sleep. The doctor arrived a little before 9 that morning to check in on me and give us the go ahead to start labor--he said we were definitely good to go, broke my water, and then we began to wait.

The rest of the time leading up to pushing is kind of a blur but I know the following happened at one point of another:

1. An anesthesiologist came in to give me my epidural (yes, you read that correctly--they let me have an epidural!).
2. The epidural didn't help at all with my abdomen contractions so a second anesthesiologist came in and gave me a stronger one (which worked!).
3. We watched the movie "Big" (with Tom Hanks).
4. Several random people came in and out of the room and commented on what a great movie "Big" (with Tom Hanks) is.
5. We surfed channels for the Broncos game.
6. We couldn't find the Broncos game and settled on watching the Chiefs lose. 

At around noon, our nurse announced that I was at a 9 and that it was about time to push--I couldn't believe it! We did a few practice pushes while we waited for the doctor to return from lunch and by the time he arrived (around 12:30), it was baby time! I couldn't have asked for a better labor--I seriously didn't feel any pain and couldn't have asked for a better support system (our nurse held one of my limp and dead legs, my husband held the other).

After pushing for nearly 30 minutes, Jackson Lee was here!

Baby Jax--5 lbs. 13 oz.

The happiest moment of my life.

My sweet and alert little boy.

Those first moments we had with Jax are memories that I will always hold in my heart--I had never seen anything so perfect before as this little boy I was holding in my arms. Brandon and I laughed, cried, and stared in awe at this beautiful little life we helped create. I loved holding, cuddling, and feeding (he latched on immediately and has been an awesome eater ever since) my son--I couldn't get enough!

However, our cuddling time was short lived; Jax couldn't cry and needed to be observed closely. 

Since he was born a week and a half prematurely, the doctor worried that something was wrong with his lungs (he would groan when he breathed) and had him placed in the NICU. I was scared and devastated; I have never felt so helpless in my life as I did when I walked into the ICU and saw Jackson's little head in an oxygen machine.

Brandon and I stood next to our son as we talked to nurses, cried, and prayed--I felt like a failure because there was nothing I could do to help him. I'm so grateful to the nurses in the NICU who took such good care of our little guy and helped talk us through everything; the nurses called our room every time Jax was awake so I'd be able to go in and feed and cuddle my little boy. Jackson was released from the NICU on the morning of December 24th and was able to come home Christmas morning--the doctor was amazed at how well Jax was progressing and told us that he wasn't even the same baby she'd met a few days earlier!

December 23rd--no more oxygen machine!

Christmas morning--Time to go home!

Thank you all so much for your prayers, kind words, cards, and gifts you've sent for Jax--he is such a sweet, content, and curious little boy and I constantly thank God for allowing us to be his parents. Like I said earlier, I really couldn't have asked for a better delivery and have been recovering very well at home (the only discomfort I really have is from tearing/stitches). I can't wait to continue sharing Jax's story with all of you--we're so blessed to have you all along for this new adventure!

Life with Jax

It's amazing how quickly life can change in one short week!

Jackson-4 Days Old

Jackson Lee was born Sunday, December 22nd at 1:13pm--he's a mellow little guy (5 pounds 13 ounces, 19 inches long) but absolutely perfect in every way! He had a hard time breathing at first and couldn't cry (more on that later--I'll try to write up his birth story this weekend) and ended up spending the first few nights of his life in the NICU but went on to make a full and quick comeback. 

A few hours old--I can't look at this without tearing up.

We were hoping to be home by Christmas eve (my favorite day of the year!) but ended up having to stay until Christmas morning which was really difficult and stressful. However, God knows what is best for us and our Christmas morning homecoming turned out to be absolutely amazing--all of Jax's grandparents (and Great Aunt and Uncle from CO) were at the house to greet us when we arrived and meet our sweet little man.

Oh be still, my heart--Brandon knows how much I love Christmas Eve and brought it to the hospital for Jax and me.

We had so many visitors/well wishers and I can't put into words just how much that meant to us--thank you so much to everyone who visited, called, texted, emailed, FB'd, etc. to congratulate us/check in on little Jax. These last 7 days have truly been the most exciting, exhausting, and emotional that I have ever had and there is no way I could have gotten through it without my incredible husband, family, and friends. I will post much more about Jax's birth and first Christmas next week!

Jax's friends who stopped by the hospital.

I hope you all had a blessed Christmas! 

Oh, one more thing..

Miss Bits is actually handling everything baby related a lot better than I expected--she basically just goes about her day-to-day routine and ignores Jax as much as she can (though she did lay on my feet last night while I pumped and intently/nervously watched Jax jabber and flail about in his Rock 'n Play). Give it a few weeks though and I know they'll be the best of friends!