Ean's birth.

In the same manner that I had felt another child after Jane's birth, I felt another presence soon after Kate was born. Like Kate, I didn't know gender or personality, I only knew that the Lord was entrusting another soul into our family. Also similar to my experience with Kate, I didn't know when this person was to arrive. Kent and I used birth control the first few months of Kate's life, just to make sure we didn't have any back to back babies but after that we left it in the hands of God.

Nursing is pretty effective for me in suppressing ovulation, so I wasn't surprised that first year to not have anything happen. Actually it wasn't until Kate was 18 months that I found myself pregnant. I was really excited. I called my parents, word got out quickly. We picked out a name for that baby. Greg after Kent's favorite uncle and probably Malcolm after my dad but we weren't sure on that. We asked Kent's grandma if it was ok to use the name Greg, after all that was her son and he was deceased. She was thrilled that we wanted to use the name.

My parents came out to visit the first week in august, the year was 2002. I was queasy and not a happy camper. My dad spoiled me rotten by taking us out to eat every single night. My mom was TICKED at my dad. *laugh* It was his way spoiling me and mom couldn't stop him. It was a neat visit. We went to the zoo, we talked, we laughed. My dad cracked me up by fixing our house. He was awfully worried he'd insult Kent but Kent didn't have time and hey, if my dad was willing to buy parts Kent wasn't about to stop him. *grin*.

Mid august I started to bleed. It was happening again. That pregnancy wasn't meant to be. In a way it was easier then my first miscarriage. I'm not sure why but maybe I had a touch more faith in trusting that timing was everything and if I didn't stay pregnant then I had to be willing to trust the Lord, his wisdom and his time table. Thankfully with this loss, I didn't have the problems that I had before. It all passed on it's own. I had one day of excruciating cramping and then my physical healing went pretty fast. My emotional healing then took a dive.

If that miscarriage had been the only crisis I had to deal with then I would have been fine but it wasn't. Two weeks later, just barely when I had stopped bleeding, my mom called at 5:30 in the morning. My dad had died of an unexpected heart attack. The coroner said that he was dead before he hit the ground. It was September forth, 2002. We went had to sacrifice our savings for three plane tickets East. My cousin that lives in Salt Lake flew both ways with us. Her husband, normally a kind and caring man was so caught up with his wife leaving him for a week when he didn't think she should go, he was a complete self absorbed jack-ass right before we left.

One of the most hurtful things he said was basically, that my dad was a drunk, making it sound like that made the loss less for all of us. He never expressed condolences, that I hurt that my dad had died because he was ticked of his wife going to the funeral. Somehow he missed that my house growing up was like a second home to my cousin and her brothers. They spent a lot of time there. My cousin loved my dad almost like a second father. My cousin's husband never figured out how hurtful and insensitive he was the day after my fathers death.

Adding to the hurt of losing my father was the unintentional hurt caused by those that my dad had shared shared the good news with. So I had people I didn't even know whispering congratulations to me on a pregnancy I had lost just two weeks before.

The back to back losses put me in an awful depression. I cried a lot. The thought of doing housework, loading the washer overwhelmed me. I gradually pulled myself out but it was a long and hard road. I knew that if I had boy next I wanted to use Malcolm as a middle name, after my dad.

Actually the emotional roller coaster left me empty for some time. I stopped caring about getting pregnant. Where I got pregnant so fast with Jane after that loss it took over a year to conceive Ean and I wasn't even nursing.

I should mention that Kate was weaned about four months after my dad's death. It was just after her second birthday and I can't quite remember why but I couldn't nurse her that morning. I think I was getting Jane ready for school. Kate whimpered and whined for five whole minutes. Then she spotted the bottle of orange soda from the night before and started to scream that's what she wanted. We don't have pop in the house very often but she knew what it was! She screamed for forty-five minutes straight. The whole enchilada, kicking and screaming, it was very impressive. Obviously nursing wasn't that important to the girl. I said no the next day and she was done.

That left a big chunk of time trying to conceive without nursing and still nothing happened.

I struggled during the summer when a woman at church announced her pregnancy. She had a son the same age as Kate and this was her second pregnancy since we had our two December 2000 babies. I cried. It seemed so unfair. I lost hope for a while. Actually I don't know if you could really say I lost hope as much as I just stopped caring. It was really a dark time for me. I shut down. Went through the motions.

The one thing I did do during this time was lose a bunch of weight. I was *H*O*T*. *laugh* I was spinning 3 times a week, riding my bike that summer, hauling kids on my bike. It was awesome.

During the fall, I was at spinning class and suddenly I felt my stomach lurch. Uh, I knew that feeling. So after class I stopped by the drug store for a test and there was no doubt, I was pregnant.

This left me with a difficult doctor decision. I know that no one would have blamed me if I went to a different doctor after what happened with Kate. Our family physician was directly responsible for her injury. I prayed, a lot and I felt like going back to him was the right decision. I really was happy with that choice too.

Meeting with the doctor during that first pregnancy visit, he excitedly told me all the changes he'd made, basically changing his whole birth philosophy to avoid situations like Kates. He went into great detail on how his delivery had changed, how he now does classes to teach other doctors and med students how to avoid shoulder dystocia. How common practices like episiotomies will not free the babies shoulder. What the mom has to do to widen the pelvis.

Firmly believing there's a purpose in all things, It renewed my spirit to see his enthusiasm for a cause he now felt deeply about.

A controversial move to avoid dystocia is to induce early. This is because induced babies are more at risk for dystocia because they haven't dropped into the pelvis before labor. However, after talking with my doctor, I decided to go with the induction. Having birthed two babies vaginally, I knew that my babies don't drop until it's time to push. So really, I couldn't see how an induction would increase that risk. Also, I already had an induction at thirty-seven weeks, zero days and delivered in four hours from going on the pit. My body likes going into labor and seems to deliver a touch earlier.

It's not a decision I took lightly and I was accused by many for having an elective induction but it wasn't elective and the decision wasn't made lightly. The decision was made at eight weeks pregnant, the date wasn't chosen for any one's convenience or schedule.

I felt defensive about my decision to induce. It was ironic that women who didn't see Kate, didn't go through the agonizing first six months of her life not knowing if she'd have a permanent disability were very quick to judge me.

It was ironic that my doctor who doesn't schedule inductions unless there is a medically sound reason had five (one was me) scheduled that month. There was a very large group of National guards going over to Iraq that month and he had four OB patients at thirty-seven weeks or farther when the dad's were scheduled to leave. I can't say for sure but I strongly suspect that I would have induced if my husband was leaving for a year.

I've already written out three births, the girls and the twins. Ean was my perfect pregnancy and birth. My one memory where I can smile knowing that everything went right with the pregnancy, where no one was in trouble. What an awesome feeling and I'm grateful that I had one pregnancy that went perfectly.

I was determined to not find out the sex. Kent and my mom, who was there for the ultrasound announced they both thought it was a bad idea, so I caved. To say Kent was thrilled to be getting a son doesn't quite do his emotions justice. He beamed, just beamed.

Even though physically everything was fine, I was having some emotional problems. Since I had shut down after those back to back losses, I didn't open my heart to this little boy for a long time. Actually about half way through my pregnancy I touch my belly, felt him move and realized I felt disconnected from that baby inside. It was a scary feeling. I prayed, I rubbed my belly and talked to him, I did everything I could to connect to him and the oddest thing happened.

I must have connected because we had his name all picked out and it felt wrong. It didn't feel right. With Jane, I knew her name and once we confirmed what we both thought it was, we used it even while I was still pregnant and it felt natural. Kent's mom used the name Greg a few times while I was pregnant and I cringed, it just didn't feel right. I actually kept this to myself for a good six weeks and the disconnection between the name and the child inside me grew. I had to tell Kent.

Sensitive man that he is, Kent immediately told me To bad, the name was already picked.

What?

You didn't say that?! Oh HELLO! You're telling your pregnant wife that she can't change her mind on a child not even born. Like HELL!

Kent and I have a really good relationship and we honestly don't fight. Well at least our record was clean until this moment in time. This was the precursor of three months of fighting, almost until the birth. Kent kept saying, we'd decided, it'd hurt his grandma's feelings because Greg was her deceased son. And he was right, it did hurt his grandma and I felt/still feel terrible about that but I could not name a child something that didn't feel right.

For some reason I don't understand Jane and Kate started calling the baby Malcolm. I never encouraged or suggested they use the name Malcolm but since I had a secret desire that I never told my husband to use that name, I thought it was hysterical to hear them use it. I've wondered if my dad was whispering the name across the veil into the girl's ear.

I told Kent's mom about the girls, once again because I thought it was cute and it all blew out of proportion. Suddenly I was getting calls on how I have to name the baby Greg, how much it would hurt Grandma over and over again. My husband was one of the worst ones. So praying for patience and guidance I called Kent's grandma myself and tried to explain how I felt disconnected between the name Greg and the baby due in a few short months. She was very hurt and very upset. And my biggest regret was setting her up for that disappointment when we should have kept our big mouths shut until we were closer to the birth. There's not many things I wish I could change about my past, but I do wish I could take that hurt away.

Kent didn't realize it but I was starting to hate the name Greg. He was such a jerk about my feelings, completely dismissing my intuition, every time he announced we had a name and there wasn't a chance to change it, I got madder.

Finally Kent consented to consider other names (but he did let me know he still felt it was silly when we had a perfectly good name). We tossed a few around and had a couple we both could agree on. I did compromise that we wouldn't pick anything new until the baby was born in case I held him and changed my mind about using the name Greg. Kent didn't know how negative I felt about the name after fighting for three months.

When the name Ean was put on the list, I referred to spelling because Ian is the traditional spelling. Kent thought I'd lost my mind because his best friend growing up spelled Ean. After three months of contention and fighting I was more then willing to give on the spelling just because it wasn't worth fighting about.

The rest of the pregnancy I was reminded occasionally that this baby's name should be Greg by well meaning family members.

I was also a tad frustrated that some members of the family continued to warn me about the dangers of inductions. As I said before, this was not a decision that I had made lightly. While understanding the warnings were made out of concern, I found them intrusive. Especially when the warnings were made by those that experienced the trauma of Kate's birth with us.

The goal on Ean's birth was to have neither the baby nor me in trouble. Having done both before, I longed for healthy from beginning to end and was blessed with that health. I'll forever be grateful for this one birth experience which was uneventful. Neither my health nor the babies was ever in jeopardy. Actually my heath was excellent during this pregnancy. I went to spinning classes twice a week until the beginning of the third trimester when during class the baby kicked hard enough to hurt like crazy, apparently ticked with the motion of me hopping around on the bike.

Around thirty-five weeks we discussed when to induce. Since Kate was born at thirty-eight and a half weeks, we went a week earlier. My doctor didn't dare go earlier then that and he ordered an ultrasound to make sure that everything looked fine before scheduling the induction.

It certainly wasn't an induction for convenience! Before I left for the appointment, Kent told me that any day the next week would be fine, except the twelfth. He had a huge meeting that he couldn't miss that day. When talking days with the doctor, the twelfth was the only day that worked. So we knew, we knew our baby was going to be born on the twelfth of May. My mom had her plane ticket already bought and she was going to be there for the birth. She hadn't been to a grandchild's birth, so this was going to be a first and probably the only time. Kent's mom was also going to be there. I didn't want to exclude her after she'd already experiences both the girl's birth.

We arranged sitters for the girls. My mom wouldn't come until after a bit. Jane was walking to a friends house after school. Everything was set.

I was so nervous, I woke up super early and couldn't go back to sleep, so we called the hospital at five am to ask if I could come in. The labor and delivery nurse was shocked I was calling so early, but they only had one patient so I could come in. It really worked to my advantage because about an hour after I came in and we'd already started, three other women came in. If I'd called then, they would have told me to wait.

After I had been laboring several hours, my mom and Kent's mom showed up. Really they were there to soon. Kent's mom just kept jabbing away. Then she got a phone call and said that her mom (Kent's grandma) was outside in the waiting area and she wanted to know if she could wait there so she could come in right after the baby was born. Honestly, I felt like there was already a room full of people, I told Kent's mom to tell her to come in, she could stay for the birth if she wanted too.

When Kent's grandma came in she lost her balance and came within a hairs breadth of grabbing the sterile tool table set up for delivery. Luckily she didn't actually grab it. All the grandma's jabbered and my mom (Bless her!) suggested they visit the cafeteria for breakfast. Kent and I had a good hour to ourselves to enjoy the process and anticipate the arrival of our son.

We had the old battle ax of a nurse that was wonderful. She was so attentive, she cared so much. She was the best nurse I'd even had. She was also irreverent, opinionated and not to mention stubborn. Her personality and views on religion mirrored my dads and there were times when in the middle a contraction, she'd say something and my mom and I would both look at each other and smile. It felt like the Lord was letting my dad be with us in some small way.

At one point she wanted me to labor with the blood pressure cuff on, no flipping way was I doing that again. She said I couldn't have drugs without the cuff on and I told her, when that time came, I'd have it on. I had an intrathecal again and kept the damn cuff on. I do follow rules, even stupid ones. As soon as the intrathecal wore off, I took that cuff off again.

I was almost fully dilated for a long time. It was really strange because with the girls I had this overwhelming desire to push very early on and I didn't have that with Ean. The intrathecal slowed down my labor and contractions this time. I hadn't anticipated that. So I wasn't about to get anything else, I wanted to keep control. I used the bar over the bed and spent a while laboring there. I worked hard trying to ease that baby down. I started to push with contractions even though I didn't feel the urge to push.

Even though it was the best birth, the ideal we sought after where both of us weren't harmed or in danger, it was the most intensive and hardest physically for me in terms of work I needed to do. That lip on my cervix just wouldn't go away and I pushed much longer then the girls put together trying to pop that baby past the cervical lip. My doctor didn't actually deliver me, a young doctor fresh out of medical school was doing her labor and delivery rounds and I gave her permission to deliver me. I'd never had a woman work with me before and even though she didn't have children of her own, the level of empathy she showed during the birth process was amazing. She worked very hard under the direction of my doctor to help move that baby past the lip of the cervix.

There were times that I almost passed out while pushing. I remember blacking out and then looking around actually feeling confused and not knowing where I was when it would dawn on me that I was suppose to be pushing.

My battle ax nurse would continue to make irreverent remarks about organized religion during this time.

Finally Ean Malcolm Hill made his appearance into the world. His two grandmothers and his great-grandmother were all lined up on the opposite wall with a perfect view of his entrance into the world. I joked afterwards that all they were missing was popcorn during the show. I whispered to my husband that if we were to have anymore, I wanted no one in the room. That dear seven pound, twelve ounce baby boy was placed on my tummy. Unlike Kate where she was so obviously in trouble, Ean was so healthy. He cried and squirmed as I talked to him, touched him. Finally his cord was cut and they took him over to the table to examine him briefly. My son proceeded to pee all over the nurse. It was hysterical.

Officially he wasn't named yet. We held off because I had agreed with my husband that I would see how I felt after the baby was born. Ean was born with bright red hair and Kent's uncle Greg was a red head. Kent's grandmother felt like that was a sign that baby was suppose to be named Greg and for over a year after that, she confided to Kent's mom that she felt like we had named the baby wrong.

Of course Ean is who he is and I have no regrets about his name. I knew it wasn't Greg. I knew that name wasn't suppose to go with that child and when Kent chose to use it on one of the twins, it fit so much better. I do still regret hurting Kent's grandma and I'm sorry she had such strong feelings during Ean's birth about his name.

Actually Kent's grandma took great offense at the battle ax nurse and her remarks on religion and put a complaint into the hospital. This upset me far more then the name business. Since I allowed her to be there for my birth, to really be a spectator, I felt it wasn't her place to complain. I wasn't offended and Kent wasn't offended and we were the parents. Actually the battle ax nurse has a special place in my heart, she reminded me so much of my dad. I was thrilled to see her again, albeit briefly at the end of my pregnancy with the twins.

Ean.

My son.

Sometimes I have to remind myself what a blessing he is. *smile* My life certainly isn't ever boring with Ean. Really, the Lord must trust us to give us such a high spirited boy. In whatever way he could, I know my dad was with us on that day he joined our family. My dad would have loved Ean stories.