2 months

I'm glad I'm getting around to writing this before Christian is 3 months old! But as expected, my life is quite preoccupied at the moment! And by the time he's sleeping, where I more time to write, I'm too tired to actually do it. Vicious cycle.

But life with this little guy is amazing. I just can't put it into words. Everyday I think about what a little blessing he is to our family, and I can't believe he's ours! How did we get so lucky?! I would say that we have a very very very easy baby. He's so mellow and seems to really like people. So far he's met quite a few of my flight attendant friends that have been here on layovers and he's just as chill as can be being passed around and held by "strangers" - his new aunties and uncles!

 

{Christian and Sammy}

 

{Christian and Cherie}

One of the biggest new discoveries is Christian's voice. He's talking up a storm! And by talking I mean, making mostly "ooohs" and "aaahs," but it's like he really does try to have a conversation with you. He watches your mouth so intently and tries to make his move too, and if you stick your tongue out at him, he'll stick his back out. I just love it! I really had no idea that having a kid would be so much fun and bring so many laughs to my day.

 

{a little video}

Finnair Flashmob

I nominate my bestie Billy to head up the first ever Alaska Airlines flight attendant flashmob!

what's in a name?

Quite a few people have asked us about Christian's name, especially since he has two middle names and one of those is Hawaiian. When Rob and I became pregnant in 2009, we found out we were having a boy. Since Rob's name (Robert Clark) pays homage to his roots, we wanted to do the same for our son. We decided on David Clark. David, honoring my father, and Clark honoring Rob's great grandfather - Clark Christian Shaffer. Unfortunately, things in life do not always turn out the way we expect (or hope) them to. Even though David Clark never made it to this world, he was our son and that was his name.

When I became pregnant the second time and found out we were having a boy, we knew (again) we wanted to give our son a name that represented where he came from, his ancestry. I love the idea of family names, and passing down names from generation to generation. I feel like, it's such a great story to tell! I have my Dad to thank for that - he was very into genealogy and finding out exactly where our family came from. He spent hours digging on the internet, visiting cemeteries, and learning about our family. As a matter of fact, my grandfather changed the spelling of my (maiden) last name.

However, one other thing we wanted was for Christian to have a Hawaiian name too. A name that Rob and I came up with together, and a name representing where Christian is from. The problem was, Rob and I couldn't agree on a Hawaiian name, so we threw the idea to the wayside. Occasionally it'd come up during the pregnancy, but yeah, we just couldn't agree. Being here in Hawaii means so much to us. It's not just some place we ended up having to move to because of Rob's job, for once. We wanted to be here... we are surfers after all. It took many tears, prayers, and a lot of faith before we finally made it to the islands. It was a long journey of growth for Rob and I before it all worked out. And now, I thank God for the "delay." It wouldn't mean nearly as much if Rob got the job here right away, and that's exactly what we wanted to happen. We wouldn't have an awesome testimony of God's perfect timing if we didn't have to rely on Him and wait. Or made lots of awesome, amazing friends in the meantime!

One day while reading a blog, yes, a blog, I came across the name/word Makana. I instantly loved it and the meaning. Gift. Makana means "gift" in Hawaiian. We agreed that would also be a part of his name, it would be the name that tied Christian Reid together. I believe that all children are gifts from God, and Christian is definitely our gift. I had a "high-risk" pregnancy with him, with a few scares at the beginning. More than once, I cried, begged and pleaded with God to let us have this baby. It wasn't until I hit thirty-something weeks that I really felt like I could really breathe and enjoy this pregnancy. He is such a blessing in our lives in about (more than) a million different ways. Having Christian has put God's love for us into slightly better perspective. Just slightly. If God loves us more than I love this little guy, then I can hardly wrap my mind around a love like that.



Christian - Christian is from Rob's side and this one goes back quite a few generations.

The name Christian originally started with his great-great-great-great grandfather, Christian John, born in 1813.
His son was Samuel Christian, born in 1847 (his great-great-great grandfather).
His son was Clark Christian, born in 1898 (his great-great grandfather).
Clark Christian's daughter is Helen Marie, who is Christian's great grandmother - we call her Gigi.
Her son is Richard Robert, who is Christian's grandfather, and Rob's dad! Follow that? Whew.

Reid - Reid is from my side.

Reid was originally the maiden name of Christian's great-great grandmother, Georgia Reid, born in 1887.
Her son was Donald Reid, Christian's great grandfather.
His son was David Reid, Christian's grandfather, and my dad!

Makana - Makana is a first generation name, that represents not only exactly what it means, "gift," but where he is from.

So, what's in a name? For Christian Reid Makana, a lot. A solid name from a long lineage of two families, together.

a birth story - part 2

a birth story - part 1

We had previously decided that I would labor at home as long as possible before going to hospital. And since I didn't know how long this day was going to end up being, I wanted to eat breakfast! We did our normal routine, and I finished getting everything ready we needed for the hospital and called our parents. At around 10am, we headed down the street. (Luckily our hospital is only a mile away). And then I waited in the waiting room...and waited... tick tock. It was so nonchalant. Rob drops me off at the door, I go to the elevator, girl standing their with a stroller looks at me and says, "oh so close!" (or something like that), to which I reply, "Yep. Today. Going upstairs now." Nothing to see here. I get upstairs and then wait in the waiting room. I make sure to tell the nurse that my water did break and I am already 4cm dilated...so I probably shouldn't wait TOO long. Then the contractions start. Nothing too painful, but they start.

 {"I'm going to be a dad!" I love this picture of Rob taken at the hospital.}

We finally go to triage. A tiny little room where they hook me up to hear the baby's heart rate, and to see my contractions on paper. When they check me, I'm 8cm dilated. Whoa, what? I asked if I'd be having this baby in triage. She said, no. They would take me to an OR. Uh... I was just joking, but they were waiting for a delivery room to open up!

 

{In triage. Still smiling. Yes, my fan says, "Pregnant Woman Are Hot!"}

When I did eventually get my own room, we setup the music and I immediately sit on the "birthing ball." On a normal day it's just one of those big exercise balls. So here I was, 8cm dilated and the contractions were manageable, not pain-free, but manageable. But not for long. They started coming hard and they started coming fast, and I was still determined to go all natural. But, I'm not going to lie, the doubt is there that this all-natural stuff ain't gonna happen. The only relief I could find was sitting on that ball. My focal point? A spot on the floor, and I couldn't do any other Lamaze breathing other than "slow chest breathing." (In theory, it's the 1st Lamaze breathing technique you would use). Although not as dramatic as it's portrayed on TV, I thought if I did the "he-he" breathing, I would hyperventilate.

The nurse comes in and checks me. 9cm dilated. "Can I get I still get an epidural?????" She said yes, but Rob totally coached me through my doubt. I only had ONE centimeter to go. I could totally do this. Um...I can? I was also throwing up with each contraction. And I know that sounds horrible, but in all honesty, it took my mind off the pain. I was getting to the point of, "I am going to push this baby out RIGHT NOW because I can't manage it anymore." But, I kept going. And oddly enough, the nurses and doctors (residents) were impressed at how "calm" I was being and that I was doing this au naturale. They originally doubted me, but now they thought I was a rockstar. In a weird way, that also motivated me to keep going.

When I had finally reached 9.5 centimeters, the nurse had some not so good news. My cervix hadn't completely thinned out on one side. So, until that happened, even if I were to reach 10 centimeters, I couldn't push. I thought I would die. She had me lay on my side to help it along (somehow), but those were the worst contractions. I laid there for an eternity.

Finally, it's time to push. They kept asking me if I had the urge to push, and I never really remember feeling that I did. But since thundercats were go, I was getting this baby out of me. And then I pushed for 2 hours. Two HOURS. Man alive. I couldn't tell anymore if I was even having a contraction... I had to ask the nurse, "is this a contraction?" I'm serious.

Eventually the doctor said he HAD to come out, his heart tones were dropping. By that point, I didn't care if they cut my abdomen open right then and there. I was exhausted and was starting to feel like I had nothing left to give. I was crying, I was on oxygen between contractions, I was frustrated, I wanted this baby in my arms two hours ago. This is EXACTLY why birthing a baby on your back is THE WORST POSSIBLE way to do it - you're completely going against gravity. Hoping to give myself one more ounce of motivation to push him out, they brought in a mirror (at my request) so I could see his head. But it was too...distracting. I told them to take it away. I could even feel his head, but it just wasn't happening. It's kind of surreal. Doctors, nurses, my husband - they were all cheering for me. It was kind of awesome in a way. I was a rockstar.

Finally, the doc said it, "Amber, I have to cut." Episiotomies are not "routine" anymore, and I had hoped that I wouldn't have to have one, but the baby had to come out. Lo and behold, right after that, he did and was put immediately onto my chest. A crying, screaming, absolutely perfect in every single way, baby boy. I can't think of any words to describe that moment. Relief. Love. So in love. A love that has no words, a love that I didn't know existed. Unreal.

{"Every good and perfect gift is from above..." - James 1:17}

Christian Reid Makana Willoughby was born on August 18th, 2011 at 6:34pm. Weighing in at 8lbs .2oz, and 21.5 inches long. Big boy.

Rob cut the cord, as dads do. And I don't know how he did it, but he managed to record video, take pictures, and encourage me for hours, remain completely calm, all while holding a little mini battery operated fan pointed at my face. The entire time. My hero. Having Christian has made me love Rob more than ever before. It's just different. Everything changes.

{First family photo.}

I look exhausted because I was exhausted. I wasn't this tired after running a marathon. No joke. My labor was a total of about eight hours. Not bad considering the average first time labor is fourteen hours. But my doctor told me, women who go drug free don't usually push for two hours. She said that's more typical with an epidural. Lucky me.

In the end, not much happened the way I thought it would. I don't know exactly what I thought would happen, but in my head, this birth story wasn't it. We had a "birth plan" written out that all the nurses and doctors had a copy of - our wishes for the labor and delivery. And in the spirit of being real, (this is my birth story, after all), things WILL happen that you don't plan on. For me, the umbilical cord detached itself from the placenta before it was delivered. The doctor had to, for lack of a better way to say it, reach in, several times, and hand deliver it. Let's just say, I feel bad for anyone taking a hospital tour that day. There was NO amount of pain throughout labor or delivery that even touched what was happening. To say that was traumatic, would be an understatement. Fortunately, for any expecting mamas reading this (Liisa), my doctor said that was NOT common, and no one I know has ever even heard of that happening.

A few things that did go according to plan: we were able to have immediate skin to skin contact (this was really important to me), delay cutting the cord, delay eye "drops" until the absolute last minute (so my baby could see me!!), no continuous IV, and freedom of movement during labor. Getting a healthy baby in our arms, in the safest way possible is the goal, and thank God, that went exactly according to plan.

a birth story - part 1

When I first got pregnant I knew I wanted to have a natural, unmedicated (no epidural) birth. I figured so many women before me had done it, I could too. How hard could it really be??

To prepare, we decided to find a "child birth class," and since Lamaze was a reasonable price and had been around since the beginning of time, we decided to go for it. We went to six weeks of classes. Our teacher was a little on the eccentric side, to say the least. But it was quite entertaining. She's been teaching Lamaze for 30 something years, has had 3 "Lamaze" births, blah blah blah. Since the classes were inexpensive and I had come to understand through my research that if you want to have an unmedicated birth, you had to prepare for it. If you go in with the mindset of, "oh I want to go natural, but I'll just see how it goes...," then in all honesty, it probably won't happen. Sorry.

For six weeks we practiced all kinds of breathing techniques that would be used through each contraction depending on it's intensity. We were told to have a focal point - something to look at through the contraction - a picture of a pretty sunset, a flower, whatever. But not only that, we learned about the process of giving birth. How labor starts, the different phases of labor, different "tools" they bring into the delivery room, all kinds of medication they can give you (besides an epidural), the effects of having an epidural, how to make my birth "sacred," even if I were to have a C-section. I learned that it's actually very uncommon for a woman's water to break before making it to the hospital, like in the movies. All of that stuff was all really informative and very helpful. Rob learned to be my "Guardian of Courage." Yep, that's what she called the coaches. How we didn't laugh the whole way through, I don't know.

In a sense, you could say I was "lucky." At my 36 week appointment, I found out I was already 3cm dilated. I thought that meant I was going to have that baby that day. That's not what that means. The next week I was still 3cm dilated. They use all these things to determine when baby is ready - effacement (how thin the cervix is), dilation (how open the cervix is), and station (where exactly is the baby - up high or "engaged" in the pelvis). Baby stayed up high. Even the day I went to the hospital, he was up high. Not really something I wanted to hear. I just decided to look at this as, well only 7cm to go... and I didn't even have to do anything to get to 3cm. By 39 weeks, I was at 4cm. And at 39 weeks, you are ready to have that child.

On Monday, we all hiked Makapu'u. I was trying to get this show on the road, naturally, of course. On Wednesday, we walked to Chinatown, I sat on a bouncy exercise ball, and I ate lots of pineapple. Thursday morning (at 39 weeks, 2 days) I woke up to fix coffee, and my water broke (so much for "that rarely happens"). It wasn't a big gush, also like you see in the movies, but I knew what was going on. I knew the "real" contractions would soon follow. I told Rob, and he responded with something along the lines of, "For real?" For real. We knew that on this day, we were finally going to meet our little man.

my loves, my life